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chosos-mascara · 5 months ago

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all my love, suguru

chapter 4

summary: after an unexpected night spent with your close friend, you find yourself pregnant, and unable to tell him so. will you be able to come to terms with this news, or will it destroy the delicate relationship you’d had left?

chapter warnings: mentions of declining mental health (suguru), general angst, secret pregnancy/child

masterlist

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A brown head of hair follows you from your car to the apartment. It's an uncomfortable journey knowing you're back in Tokyo again, so close to a life that feels so distant from you now.

There are many boxes to unpack, and when accompanied by a young child, the task feels insurmountable. To credit her, she does make an attempt to help, picking out a few toys from one of the containers with a smile, though just as quickly becomes distracted by the prospect of actually playing with them. This does make things easier for a short while; you're able to unpack some dinnerware into empty shelves, folding down just one cardboard box before she's back at your side. "Mama!" She toddles to you with tears brimmed at her lash line, a doll in one hand, it's arm in the other. "Help, please."

You offer a soft smile, crouching and accepting the broken toy. It's easy to slot the arm back into place with some jostling (a manuvre you've learned from experience with this particular toy), and she's smiling once more, a shriek of excitement when the doll is returned to her in one piece.

Her expression lightens your mood, how beautifully she wears her emotions. There's so much innocence to children you hadn't expected before meeting her, so much joy. Her brown eyes are locked onto her barbie as she babbles, some nonsense, though some actual words do crop up - mummy, love, play.

You'd spent your entire pregnancy wondering what she would look like, whether she would take after you or her father, and to little surprise when she was handed to you, she was the image of Suguru. Even more so with age. Brown hair and eyes, and she has his nose too, with a calm temperament and warmth that you also accredit to him.

Being a single mother is hard, and seeing so much of him within her is bittersweet. He's the man you fell in love with, but he's also the man you had to leave. There's so much you've wanted to share with him too; her first steps, words, her first birthday. Despite this, you know even if alone you've raised her well, and she is so loved. You've brought her this far without sorcery, but now a blue flame surrounds her. She's an early bloomer in the cursed sense, and just as you'd feared, inherits her father's technique meaning she'll likely be a special grade... something you'd wished so deeply to avoid.

There was change on the horizon, beginning only a few days ago when you'd been told to pack these very boxes, and push your daughter into a future you hadn't willed. You feel sick when recounting the memory.

"No." The sight of his face brings a burning to your throat, a sinking feeling as if a bowling ball had been forced into your chest, dropping to weigh within your stomach. Two years in hiding, to end involuntarily by no one other than Gojo Satoru. White hair draped over his forehead, blue eyes meeting your own. They look tired, aged somehow, though you can't seem to care when that weathering is accompanied by remorse, lips downturned.

"Invite me inside." His voice is quiet, low. It's late, and you're sure he's exhausted, yet he's at your door instead of his own. There's a small spark of hope that perhaps he simply needs a place to stay, though this is snuffed out when you look back to his face. He knows. "Satoru, why are you here?" Your voice trembles on the verge of tears, but he doesn't comfort you, instead remaining silent as you try to steady your breaths, eventually regulating them enough to step to one side. There's some hesitance as he walks past you.

You lead him to the livingroom, and as he trails behind his gaze wonders the painted walls of your entryway, pictures decorating an otherwise bland white. Most of which appear to star a small child from the ages of infancy to two; the same dark hair and brown eyes that he recognised within his close friend. There's dimples in each cheek when she smiles with her mother's lips.

"You had a girl." He means it to echo a question despite already knowing, though it sounds to be a statement. Your eyes lift from the floor to meet his, and you nod.

"Keiko." Usually her name on your lips brings you joy, but telling Satoru only makes your heart ache.

"Satoru, please tell me why you're here." You swallow thickly, afraid of the news you're about to be privvy to. He offers little reprieve with his reluctance, and you expect the worse. "You have to come back, to Tokyo."

There's a numbness that begins at your throat, and slowly, like mould spore growing through a piece of fruit, you find yourself rotting before him. You're plagued with dread as you picture your daughter, only two years of age, opened up to a world you wished to shield her from. "Why would I need to do that?" You act as if you're unaware, yet you understand clearly. She's gifted, even if you hadn't wanted to give her this strength.

"She has Cursed Spirit Manipulation." When those words leave his lips, you realise you truly have lost this case. This is it, this is what she will be forced to use. Your jaw tightens as you form a response, though you're unable to begin when Satoru elaborates. "Two weeks ago, a small girl was seen chasing a grade four, and upon capturing it, the curse was ingested."

You frown. "Who reported this?" Satoru hears the panic in your voice, no matter how strong you try to be. Just like when you were teenagers, you feign confidence against him, yet in equal power, Satoru can see right through you.

"A grade three sorcerer working within this district reported it to the higher ups. They've decided her potential is too strong to ignore." You're staring at him wide eyed, and he feels guilt as he watches you grieve this life. Satoru wouldn't tell you how he'd practically pleaded with them to let her be a child before introducing her to the horrors of this world, because he didn't want you to know he'd failed you.

"What if I refuse?" "You know the answer, do I really have to spell it out to you? There is no other choice." His words imbue a hopelessness into you, and you finally give up, walking past him to take a seat on the couch. The cushions sink under you, and your hands rest upon each leg. There's one question you have left.

"Does he know?" Monotone, dead. Your tone sends a chill over Satoru's spine; he's never seen you so genuinely defeated. Even when he'd found out about your pregnancy, you held yourself together better than this. But even with all of Satoru's experience, his strength, he still couldn't empathise with that of parenthood. Megumi was the closest thing he had to that, though he understands that the relationship the pair share is nothing close to the love you would have for your own blood.

"You left with no word as to where you'd gone. If I told him it was to have his child, what would he have done?" There's some bitterness to his words, and you cringe. "Didn't he question the fact there's a child with his technique?"

Satoru moves from one foot to the other, crossing his arms as he watches your meek state. You're slouched and sweating, and your eyes haven't lifted from the same patch of carpet for the past two minutes. Though with his quietness, your gaze lifts, stopping at his lips.

"He doesn't know."

You nod once, taking your teeth between your lips. This is worse than being lectured, you think, enduring the judgement of a person you value highly, feeling their revulsion of a decision you made long ago. "Don't you think he had a right to know before all of this?" You stay silent, your arms closing in closer to your body as if to hug yourself. "It's only right he hears it from you, before this goes any further."

Only, you still haven't made that call, and told him the truth. You watch your daughter walk toward the school, her hand in yours, while Suguru is none the wiser. It's a secret you knew would be revealed within the next few hours, unrevealed as long as you'd been able.

Shoko's leaving the lab when you enter the halls. You don't notice her at first, instead preoccupied by the small girl beside you, though when your eyes lift from the little fingers wrapped around yours, you stop dead in your tracks.

Not many things shock Shoko. She likes to think she's seen all, and likely knows most of what goes on even if only surface level, but when she sees you in Jujutsu High with a child clutching at your hand, she comes to a standstill, eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

Keiko takes a few steps, her little feet tapping on the hard floors, though soon notices her mother's halted action. "Mama, come on."

Shoko's brow raises, a sharp gasp on her lips as she pieces things together. The child looks to be around two, and not long before that you'd left - this must've been the result of that pregnancy test you'd requested long ago. And as she stares at her a little longer, taking in at the warm toned brown eyes, she realises why you'd left. This child had to be Suguru's, her features were far too akin to his to be coincidental.

She says your name, though it sounds foreign to her now. She wonders when the last time she'd called out to you was, and when you peer anxiously to her expression, she realises how you've matured, mellowed almost. There's a protectiveness she can sense, you're definitely more closed off, but that's understandable considering the fact you've been gone and likely without much social contact.

"Hi." Part of you had hoped for a better reunion, but with how things went it was only understandable that Shoko wouldn't be running to hug you anytime soon. "You’re a mother, huh?" There's little goosebumps over your skin as you swallow, nodding slowly. Of course, she'd remember your offish self asking her for tests, and she'd be able to piece things together. "What's her name?"

You knew Shoko wouldn't bring harm to you both, and if she's worked out your daughter's father, she wouldn't press you on it. "It's Keiko." You look down to your daughter, who's holding your hand a little tighter in the presence of a stranger. Funny, growing up you'd thought these people would be your children's family, yet here your baby is, backing up at the sight of a woman she'd never met.

"Keiko," Shoko crouches to her eye level. "That's a beautiful name." Shoko offers her a smile, and Keiko's hand loosens up a little, though it's still clammy on your palm. "Thanks." It's spoken quietly, and the 'th' sounds more like an 'f', but it's coherent enough.

"What are you both doing here?" Shoko's looking back to you now, standing up to meet your level once again. Mouth opening, your free hand comes to your arm to fiddle with your jacket. "The higher-ups found out about her technique." "Manipulation?" You pause. So, she's figured it out. "Yeah. They want him to show her the way, I guess." "But he doesn't know." "No, he doesn't." You offer her a half smile in hopes she would forgive you. "I was kind of hoping he'd find out before i got here, but he hasn't."

Shoko wants to tell you it's your job to tell him and that you need to face your fears, but she keeps her mouth closed in order to save your feelings. Instead, she nods quietly, arms crossed. When the air is too stale to bare any longer, you breathe it in, deciding to take you leave before you would combust on the spot. "I've got to find Yaga, we have a meeting." Your words are rushed and you almost stumble as you walk past her.

"Who was that?" Keiko questions in her own muddled words, and you force a happy expression when meeting her gaze. "Mama's old friend, from school."

Suguru sits back in the beat up couch, bitter instant coffee still swirling as he places it on the low table. The staffroom has definitely seen better days, he was sure this furniture would've been used back when he'd attended Jujutsu High, with stains and scratches over old wood, rings from mugs of coffee much like his own. Budget cuts had meant money was syphoned into other things, much less into staff.

"A meeting, with Yaga?" He repeats Satoru's words carefully, brow creased. He watches as the brown liquid begins to settle, a few bubbles at the surface meeting in the middle. "Yeah, something about a new student." The explanation makes much less sense to Suguru, because this year he's supposed to be taking on more missions, and offering a supporting role rather than holding his own classes. "And why would that concern me?" His voice is tired, he's tired. The school is working them all into an early grave, he thinks. What was supposed to be more of a career break had somehow turned into more work than he's ever had, and he realises the only way out of this is to leave Jujutsu society for good - much like you did.

Suguru can't deny he feels responsible for your sudden leaving. As if a phone call would've fixed anything between you after he'd not only slept with you, but left you to fend for yourself afterward too. He thinks about you a lot, much to his own distaste. It's his fault you're not here, after all.

"You'll be teaching them part time." Suguru outwardly sighs, a hand flying up to massage his temples. "Of course." It was drenched in acidity, and Satoru shifts. He's still standing, muscles tense as he watches his friend stress himself further. It's been a difficult few years, and he is sure Suguru is at the end of his tether. Satoru worries that your return might just be the thing that breaks him entirely.

"What do you know, Satoru?" When he zones back into the room, glancing away from the disgustingly beige walls to peer into his friend's brown eyes, he realises he'd worn his concerns too evidently. "Not much," He lies, something he's found himself doing consistently as of recent. "She's young, though. A child." He tries to soften the blow by letting on that piece of information now, because he knows Suguru will be disgusted to find out they're having him begin training with a child who cannot yet read, let alone understand what a curse is.

"How young?" Suguru's intuition tells him that something is awry here, but he can't place his finger on what exactly it is. Satoru is definitely withholding something important, and he understands that he's not going to find out what until he's in Yaga's office. "Fine, don't tell me."

With a sigh, he pushes himself up from the couch, all the while Satoru is stood in silence, that pitying look he hates being bestowed unto him. The coffee on the table is going cold, not that Suguru has much of a stomach for it anyway.

a/n: soooo yes, reader ran from her problems (sorrrry) but it looks like suguru is about to find out everything...

tags - @animeisforkings @emikisses @boredwithwrath @karazorel7 @tomiokasecretlover @mrsoharaa @magey0412 @thisbicc @aemiliabruno @zeunys @sukunaspillow @caixgee @ssetsuka @pinkpunkdynamite @harlamarie @chilicopsticks @khoochie @hojoslutoru @karazorel @idkuluka @itztamar @magey0412 @strflp @kaeyakaikai

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catgrandpa · 4 months ago

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I started this post with the intention of asking for fic recs where Bruce gets his kids early, but then I ended up just writing some ficlets

_(:3 」∠)_

I still really just want recs I swear but I wrote these anyway and am incapable of doing more with them so here

☆彡

Dick Grayson is 8 years old when he watches his parents die. Bruce is 24 years old when he sees a young boy’s life fall to pieces. He’s far too young to be a single father. But he sees too much of himself in the child, and he knows in his heart that he won’t be able to walk away from him.

He talks to Alfred about his fears of only furthering Dick’s trauma by failing him as a guardian. It takes some time, but Alfred is able to convince Bruce to find a therapist and take some discreet parenting classes. He’s still Batman, and I don’t think he’s capable of Gentle Parenting™ but he does do better. Plus, Dick is young enough to learn to read Bruce before the teenage hormones kick in so they manage to communicate much more effectively with each other.

☆彡

Bruce meets Catherine Todd by chance because there was a cool park Dick wanted to stop at. She’s trying to deal with her hungry and fussy 3 year old step son, but she’s young and stressed out and hungry herself and she just doesn’t know what to do. Bruce offers to take them out for lunch. He asks Dick to take Jason to the play area in the corner while they talk.

She breaks down and tells him of her struggles with addiction. She does her best to keep Jason fed, but it’s so hard. Feeding him means she goes hungry most of the time because she can’t quit using. Jason wouldn’t survive if she had to go through withdrawals with him.

He’s not even her kid! Not really. Her husband is just an abusive deadbeat so she doesn’t have a choice. She does love him, but she never wanted kids, and she can’t just let a child die when she can do something.

Bruce fills their fridge and cabinets to the brim (he offers to do much more for them but that’s all she will budge on. She has too much pride to accept outright charity, but she will do what she can to keep her kid safe) and he makes it clear to her that he is willing to take care of Jason for however long is necessary when she decides to take the first step to get clean.

Two months later, Willis gets arrested and Catherine shows up at Wayne Manor and tells Bruce she signed up for inpatient, but she thinks it would be best for Jason and for herself if Bruce would be willing to take permanent custody. She stays in Jason’s life, just not as a mother figure.

☆彡

A year or so later, Bruce gifts Alfred with a vacation as an early birthday present. Things have been hectic with the sudden acquisition of two sons, and Alfred has done so much, he deserves a break. Bruce promises he’ll be able to handle two kids on his own.

Turns out, he was mostly right, but only just barely. The kids are fine, the manor not so much. He ends up hiring a few services to help out with general housekeeping. A couple of those workers also happen to be regular hires for the Drakes.

Bruce overhears them talking about how sad it is that those awful people treat their toddler more like a doll than a child. He learns that not only do they leave for long periods at a time while not hiring a proper nanny to watch over their son, just expecting the help to take care of him, but they also lock him away on his own whenever it’s ’not fashionable’ to have a 2 year old around.

Alfred comes back to the manor on August 15th, just in time to celebrate his and Master Jason’s birthdays together. He opens the door and dodged around a very excited 4 year old jumping up and down in the entry hall.

“ALFIE! ALFIE! BOOSE GOT ME A BABY BWOTHER FOR MY BIRFDAY! LOOK! LOOK! HIMS NAME IS TIMMY AND HE’S THE BESTEST!”

Alfred leans over to peak behind the boy, and sees a very quiet, very small child standing behind him.

“Oh, dear.”

☆彡

The day Bruce got the call from Talia telling him she was pregnant with his child was one of the best days of Bruce’s life. The day she called to tell him she miscarried was one of the worst.

The only blessing was that he didn’t need to explain it to his kids. Talia was going to move in once she was in her second trimester, and they planned to reveal her pregnancy together.

He got the call two weeks before her flight out. He begged her to come anyway, he loved her, they could still be a family. She refused.

Six and a half months later, he walks into his bedroom to find Talia standing by the window with a squirming bundle in her arms. With equal measures steel and sorrow in her eyes she tells Bruce she is sorry for what she put him through, but it was the only way to keep their son safe. He gathers them both in his arms and holds them tight as she explains.

Her father had planned to raise an heir to be the Demon Head. He would be kept a secret from Batman until the very end. But when Talia gave the final push to birth their son, he came out quiet. She panicked for a moment until her midwife quietly leaned down to listen to the baby’s breathing and then looked up with a soft smile, she bundled up the small thing and handed Talia her baby. Big beautiful green eyes blinked up at her. The midwife leaned closer to Talia and whispered, “Sadly, your son was stillborn. I’m deeply sorry for your loss, but surely The Great Head of the Demon would be willing to allow you some time away from your duties while you recover.” Talia allowed the woman to cover her beautiful cooing baby gently with soft linen and silk and carry him from the room. Later that night she left her home with her son and boarded the first flight to Gotham.

Tears gather on Bruce’s lashes and he tells her everything will be alright because now they can finally be together as a family. Once more, she refuses. She tells him Damian and his boys are far too precious for her to bring the danger of the league of assassins to their door. Bruce closes his eyes in sorrow, but nods his acceptance. He asks her to at least stay the night together. They fall asleep wrapped in each other’s arms with their baby boy safely bundled between them. Talia is gone when he wakes.

☆彡

It’s been one week since Talia left and, while still beyond upset, Bruce feels like he’s starting to have a decent handle on things. He is sitting with his boys at the breakfast table, Dick and Jason to his left, Tim to his right, Damian in his arms, and Alfred across from him. They’re finally able to have a relaxing breakfast. No babies crying, no food fights, no arguing, just the sounds of eating and gentle chatter.

He feels a small hand grab his right sleeve and give a gentle tug.

“Boo?” Tim asks, quietly. Bruce feels his heart warm at his son finally feeling like he can speak up without permission.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Why isn’t Big Sister sitting with us?”

Alfred is the only person in the room other than Tim to not startle at the sudden appearance of a 5 year old girl standing next to Bruce at the dining table. He simply sighs, stands up, and grabs another place setting for her at the table.

#to this day nobody knows how Cass got there #but Tim says she came with baby so they assume she hitched a ride with Talia somehow #notice how I /very discreetly/ made it so Jason knows Catherine isn’t his birth mom?#Bruce communicates with him when he’s older that if he ever wants to find his bio mom he will help him and they can do it together ❤️#No dead robins for me🧍🏼‍♂️#Sorry Duke but it’s because I love you that I’m allowing you to stay with your parents 🫶#IM SORRY DICK I WROTE YOUR PART BEFORE I HAD ANY REAL CREATIVITY AND NOW ITS ALL DRIED UP #I LOVE U BB BUT UR STUCK WITH TWO SUCKY PARAGRAPHS ✌️#also? I don’t even ship Brutalia. like I’m almost a hater. but they took me over here ig #if I was writing more of this just know that Clark would show up with Jon at some point #batfam #dcu #fanfiction #ficlet #batman #brutalia #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #cassandra cain #alfred pennyworth #shut up grandpa #dcu ficlet

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mirnilop · 1 year ago

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𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝑜𝓁𝑒 𝒹𝑒𝓋𝒾𝓁 𝒸𝒶𝓁𝓁𝑒𝒹 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 ˚₊·͟͟͟͟͟͟͞͞͞͞͞͞➳❥ wally darling

⚠ tags: sfw, mob au, yandere!wally, gn!singer!reader, power imbalance, discussions of violence

♡ synopsis: you’d be surprised how many fans you accrue as a small-time lounge singer. while this is usually a good thing, one of yours happens to rule half the city, so he isn’t exactly receptive to the word “no”.

♡ word count: 5,310

⛧ﾐ‧*･ﾟ the following content may be triggering to some. please proceed with caution! ･ﾟ*‧ミ⛧

a/n: hello!! ₍ᐢ.ˬ.⑅ᐢ₎ goshh, my very first post on this acc!! i haven’t posted fanfic in a hot minute but i’m suuuper excited to get back into it!! 💞 i have sooo many wips for this fandom, it was difficult to choose which one to finish first! credit to @/clownsuu for creating the au and for the lovely art!! i tweaked the concept a wee bit so that it takes place in a roger rabbit-esque world where puppets and humans live together unharmoniously (with a jessica rabbit inspired reader ofc >v>). it was a lot of fun trying to marry wally's canon personality with a Scary Mob Boss (*´ 艸`) i can't wait to post more!! what are y'all's favourite aus? let me know!! ･*･:≡(　ε:)

There’s a rose on your vanity.

The sight of it snuffs out your high spirits, irritation igniting in its place– and it was such a good day, too! You and the girls were perfectly in sync for your entire performance, bolstered by the unusually affable audience; you even rewarded them with a sneak peek of new material, which made them go wild!

Dreams of stomping it beneath your heel stew in your head as you drop it in the faience vase at the rim of the mirror, where a crinkled, beige-tipped rose droops against the rim. Why not break the vase too? An idea that’s crossed your mind too many times, and while it gets harder to resist with each flower, you endure it. They’re presents, after all, and you doubt your admirer would take kindly to the news that you’ve trashed them. You’re certain one of his minions would obtain the evidence, if not witness you do it; you can’t pinpoint the extent to which they survey you, but the crawling sensation of eyes on your back crops up often, and obviously they have no problem barging into your dressing room to play delivery service.

Sighing, you comb through your rolling rack to pick a suitable outfit to change into. Most of the articles hanging are also gifts, but you’ve made sure to keep some of your own hard-earned clothes here out of sheer spite. A burgundy cashmere number has just slipped into your grasp when the door bursts open.

“How’s that for a show?! And what a great crowd, a whole buncha dolls! Or– well, puppets– and humans! Hahaha!”

Lottie skips in with her usual energy, the bell on her collar jingling alongside the clack of her Mary Janes. You hate that their manager mandates the bells as a part of their costumes, as if puppets being treated like second-class citizens wasn’t enough. “You wanna make money or not? It’s part of the appeal! You know, Mary Had A Little Lamb and all that!” is what he told you after one of your countless tirades regarding his treatment of them, but the sleazy smirk wrapped around his cheap cigarette allowed you to read between the lines. As much as you despise that man, it’s not your business to judge the trio for staying contracted with him. Mottie’s recalled to you how difficult it was to hire a manager at all, and you suppose you have to (begrudgingly) thank him for bringing them into your life, since he’s the one who bagged them the backup singer gig.

A swell of color in your peripheral lets you know that she’s come near, but you don’t bother diverting attention from your search. This is such a common occurrence between you two that pleasantries are no longer required.

“And they were mighty generous with the tips! So me and the gals was thinking we should go somewhere to… celebrate…”

Hearing her trail off, you turn to find her staring at the new rose, her once-perky ears fallen limp. You click your tongue, remorse prickling your heart, though you’ve done nothing wrong.

“I’ll be alright, Lottie. Here,” You grab a wad of bills from your personal tip jar and fold them into her hand. “You take your sisters somewhere nice, my treat. As an apology for having to skip out tonight.”

When she doesn’t move from her spot, merely pouting at you with big, glistening eyes full of concern, you swaddle her in a hug. Fleecy strands of shell pink hair tickle your nose as she nestles her snout into your shoulder, squeezing you like a lifebuoy. Having her in your arms is a vital reminder as to why you continue to put up with everything. Lottie, Dottie and Mottie are your beloved friends– your family when you had none– and you are willing to do whatever is necessary to build a life with them.

“Are ya sure?”

“Positive. And if that bug gives you even a whiff of trouble, you come get me right away, got it?”

She laughs, the sound a balm to the ache of your worries. “He never gives us any trouble– n’fact, I haven’t heard ‘im say a single word!”

“Good. At least one of them has manners. Now go have fun!”

After a few more hugs and a promise to relay your apology to her sisters, she trots towards the entrance. Halfway through it, she pauses.

“Promise ya’ll play nice?”

An involuntary grimace twists your face, which you smooth immediately.

“I was planning on it,” you concede, earning an exhale of relief from Lottie.

“Thanks. Honestly, I’m kinda worried...” She leans against the doorframe, gaze trained on the checkered floor. “I see more and more of that Napoleon-wannabe’s goons lately. Do ya think he’s gettin’ antsy? It’s been real quiet since that incident with Dorelaine.”

Ah, the incident. It happened a handful of months ago; he refused to go into specifics, but what you’ve gathered from his gnomic recount and various news stories is that their rival organization– led by Ronald Dorelaine, a human man– planted explosives somewhere important, racking up thousands in damages and dismembering several puppets, left to be mended with those horrific stitches. You didn’t receive another rose until several weeks afterwards.

“I can’t be sure,” you admit. “He doesn’t tell me much about the goings-on of the ‘family’, not that I care to know. But I noticed he’s been more wound up lately… maybe they’re going to retaliate?”

A visible shudder travels through Lottie, and she tosses her head as if to ward off the gravity of your predicament. It was easier to ignore the implications when there wasn’t an active turf battle.

“You’re right, we should stay as far as we can from that nasty business. Wear the red, then. To butter ‘im up a little.” She offers you a conflicted half-smile, most likely holding herself back from proposing a makeover, before sidling out the door.

Glowering, you follow the advice, shucking your tight, shimmering stage outfit for the cozy cashmere you were eyeing before. Like I need to be reminded of his favorite color. I’ve practically lived in red since I met him. It inexplicably fits like a glove, as do all of the clothes you've been bestowed; for the sake of your sanity, you prevent yourself from delving too far into that subject.

As you fix the little bits of your appearance that got mussed up during your performance, you can’t help but contemplate hiding in your room until morning, even though you know it wouldn’t work– and you’d have to pay for a broken front door. Once every speck of lint has been removed and your ensemble is flawless, you steel your resolve with a hard look in the mirror. If things go south, at least you’ll make a gorgeous open casket.

You step into your shoes and out of the dressing room, swiping your bag and a matching hat from the plethora that dangle on knobs affixed to the wall along the way. The haze that eternally permeates the lounge envelops you as you walk, no longer springing tears to your eyes like it did so long ago, when you were a starry-eyed fledgling. Upon entering the foyer, you call out to the owner, Gene, who’s counting the register behind the bar.

“Hey, I’m heading out!”

“Geez, you’re in a hurry! Got a hot date or what?”

“Something like that,” you breathe, your nerves relighting tenfold now that you’re so close to the outside.

“Ahh, I getcha.” His amusement is clear, construing an innuendo within your words that is absolutely not there, but you’d rather die than clarify. “You did a great job today, you deserve it!”

Somehow, your admirer has managed to limbo directly under Gene’s nose; thus far he’s made no indication that he’s aware he has a very important patron. For a moment, you observe him, and see how he absentmindedly rubs the pocket of his button-up– where a polaroid of his two children is safely tucked away– and you decide that it’s probably for the best.

“Thanks, Gene. Have a good one.”

“You too!”

His reply barely reaches you as you cross the threshold from the comfort of your work into the cold, pensive night. A luckier soul may have suffered a fright when greeted with the colossal figure standing below the street light, carved with shadow, but it’s a familiar sight to you now. An inconspicuous black car is parked behind him.

“Hi Howdy.”

“Evening, Mx.” He bows slightly, whisking open the sleek passenger door which you reluctantly slide inside.

“I wish you’d stop calling me that. I do have a name.” It’s true. Being addressed formally by such an important figure imbues you a with a sick feeling, like he’s won, and you’ve already been initiated into this fucked up institution.

Though he waits for you to finish speaking before shutting you in, he doesn’t grace you with a response; not that you were expecting one. In all the times he’s escorted you to these duress-dates, as you’ve taken to calling them, he’s remained stoic to a mechanical degree, acknowledging your presence and nothing more. Thrashing, crying, screaming– you’ve tried everything to escape, and have never elicited a reaction more severe than that of a tired parent handling a tantrum. If you resist, he simply manhandles you. It’s hardly a fair match, with him having 4 arms and several feet of height on you, so you opt to reserve your energy for dealing with his headache of a boss.

When he hauls his many limbs onto the driver’s seat, the car lurches, too small to accommodate a puppet of his stature; he has to hunch forward to see the windshield, antennae pushed flat. You lean back and vacantly turn towards the window, wondering if cars big enough for someone like him to drive comfortably even exist while the engine rumbles to life.

The umbrous cityscape passes you by, inklings of humans and puppets flashing in and out of the darkness like ghosts. Thick boughs of red and green tinsel are strung across a few lamp posts, but by the end of the season they’ll all be covered. Dottie’s already triple checked that you and her sisters have one day of the annual Christmas market off, even though you strike the same deal with Gene every year; the four of you get Saturday, then he gets Sunday to take his family. It’s one of your favorite times of the year, if only because you get to experience the aura of wonder that enlivens Lottie when the first snow falls, Mottie’s timid wheedling to attend The Nutcracker, and Dottie’s alphabetically-organized checklist of fun winter activities.

Those cheerful thoughts are wiped away as Howdy turns into a private garage attached to a sleek, angular skyscraper. He parks in the spot nearest to the entrance, the first in a row of spaces labeled with metal “Reserved for Staff” signs, and circles the car to let you out. The sensation of him gingerly lifting you comes with no alarm; he always assists you up the concrete stairs leading to the elevator, as if you’re so physically inept you can’t handle 3 tiny steps. You assume his needless precaution is for the same reason he hasn’t beaten you yet despite defying him so often: boss’s orders.

With a reedy knell, the elevator glides open, and Howdy signals for you to go ahead. Once you’re both inside, he inserts a key and presses the button for the uppermost level. Expecting a noiseless ride, you tune into the low muzak emitting from the speakers, which makes you miss the first time he calls you.

“Mx.”

Startled, you swivel towards him. His steadfast profile is unreadable.

“Boss doesn’t know you’ve opposed him so vehemently in the past. Please keep that in mind tonight.”

The entrance broaches before you can interrogate him as to what the hell he means, granting you entry to a luxury penthouse laved in gold, ivory, and– of course– red. A glimmering chandelier suspends from the ornamental ceiling, bathing the antique furniture in an amber glow. If you hadn’t just ridden up the elevator, you would have assumed such a lavish drawing room belonged to an old mansion.

It’s something straight out of a romance novel, except instead of a chiseled, broody Italian, it’s a short puppet sitting at the marble-topped dining table. He lounges at the head in a slate blue silk suit with its jacket buttoned to the top; an honor seemingly reserved solely for you, because it’s the only way you’ve seen him wear it, despite street tales describing the way it billows from his shoulders as he stalks the town. Revealed by its plunged neckline is the collar of a white dress shirt embossed with rainbow pinstripes, and a red ascot neatly tied and pulled askant around his throat.

Wally Darling, in the felt: kingpin of The Neighborhood, and resident thorn in your side.

When you arrive, he rises to meet you, dismissing Howdy with a pointed glance; you’ve learned that the relationship between a crime lord and his loyal bandog transcends language. You watch him as he leaves through a pair of swinging doors to the left, his cryptic advice-slash-warning heavy on your mind.

And so, you find yourself alone with the most dangerous man in the city– puppet or otherwise.

“Good evening, dearest. I hope my gift found you well.”

The concept of personal space might as well be Greek to Wally, since he hasn’t once respected it from the day you had the misfortune of making his acquaintance. He crowds so close that you have to crane your neck to see his face, the heat emanating from him eliciting shivers in your chill-soaked body.

“Yes, thank you. It was quite a lively night,” you chirp, wielding a civil smile.

Although the contours of his wispy, coiffed curls only reach your ribs, he extends his arm to you, which you take with such a featherlight hold that you barely brush his sleeve. Rather than leading you to the dining table like you expected, you’re guided towards a small lounge area to the side, the crackling croon of Billie Holiday wafting over from a refurbished stereo console in the corner. Oh, great. He’s feeling sentimental.

“Would you indulge me with a dance before dinner?”

Don't have much of a choice, do I?

“I’d love to.”

Dancing with Wally is funny, in an ironic sort of way; it certainly caught you off guard the first time he asked. When you envision dancing with a powerful, deadly mobster, you think of being swept away, wrapped snugly by strong arms and a dastardly smirk, or perhaps something more courtly, like a waltz steered by a polite hand on your waist. Turns out both versions are incorrect.

Muscle memory ushers your arms open, and Wally falls into the space in between them– literally. Slack against you, his full weight is heftier than his height would imply, but not physically uncomfortable– emotionally and morally, however, are another story. An air of pure peace washes over him as his cheek nuzzles the underside of your chest, arms limp at his sides; you swear you even hear a little trill. Your face burns, but you say nothing as you begin to sway faintly to the beat, tracing a loop with your feet as you traipse along. Wally follows easily, tethered by the reluctant cage of your embrace.

“Do you remember the night we met?”

The query is felt more than heard, his gentle monotone muffled by the downy fabric of your garb. You huff softly to yourself, rustling a few gel-slick strands atop his pompadour.

“How could I forget?”

The day the infamous Mr. Darling appeared in your club, his two largest henchmen in tow, is burned into your brain like a regrettable tattoo; Gene was off, so you were covering entertainment for the night while the sisters managed the bar and floor. As you were singing the very song playing now, you detected a curious hush that had overtaken the throng of guests, and strained to cut through the stage glare and cigarette fog to locate the cause. Tracking the audience, who were all regarding the bar with varying amounts of subtlety, you nearly dropped the microphone when you saw the broad blue back of Barnaby B. Beagle, someone you’d only heard of in gossip. He gesticulated as he spoke boisterously to poor Mottie, who was as white as a sheet behind the counter. Situated a slight ways away was Howdy Pillar, who stood as motionless as a statue with both sets of forelimbs fastened behind him.

And then you noticed him. A puppet no more than 4 feet tall, but whose oppressive presence commanded full attention. He paid no mind to the (one-sided) conversation between his colleague and your friend– no, he was staring right at you. Boring into you so acutely that you felt pinned, compelled somehow to continue singing until the final note trickled away.

As if a spell had been broken, you leapt from the platform and scurried to Mottie, who stayed petrified even when you tried to covertly nudge her to the side. How avidly you wished a fissure would open beneath their shoes and swallow them whole; but, armed with years of appeasing difficult and sordid customers, you spoke.

“Evening, fellas. I hope you enjoyed the show.”

Barnaby, who had stopped talking when you rounded the bar, bellowed a laugh.

“Fellas?! Is that any way to greet the boss and I?"

He tilted forward with menacing glee, propped up by furry elbows as his claws scraped the laminate countertop. Each of his fangs were as big as your nose.

"Dontcha know who we are, toots? Or do ya just need a refresher on respect?"

The acrid smoke from his cigar blew directly into your face, making spikes of anger bubble in your belly as you choked back a cough. Just when you felt composed enough to reply, a surprisingly mellow voice chimed in.

"It's alright, Barnaby."

The shock slacking his jaw mirrored yours, although you hid it under a mask of cool indifference. You dared a glance at Mr. Darling, but the pressure of his peer chased your gaze back to Barnaby, who grumbled as he straightened back up. It was difficult to stay trained on his good eye, but you soldiered on. Fear was not something you could afford to show, and you knew you'd crumble if you peeked at the fabled gaping socket that he stapled open himself.

"I don't suppose you're Gene Clifton, aged 54, father of two, owner of this joint?" He joked, recovered from the flub.

"No, sir, but my banker would sure be happy if I was. Can I take down a message?"

"A message! I love this bird!" Snickering cruelly, he waved a flippant paw. "Y'should try that material on stage sometime, might bring ya more customers than the singing bit."

You sucked a sharp inhale up your nose. Serenity now.

"See, here's the problem. This is family territory, and in return for our protection, we charge a teensy fee. Now, we ain't unreasonable– we've sent ole Gene a few letters. And what’s our thanks for such humble hospitality? Zilch."

Oh dear. Gene doesn't bother investigating any mail the lounge receives before tossing it because it’s typically adverts. He definitely would've noted The Neighborhood's seal if he did. Regardless, the frank abuse of power only fanned your annoyance, obscuring your better judgment.

"What protection? I don't recall seeing any of your members patrolling outside. Besides, we didn’t ask for protection."

Mottie snapped towards you, looking as though she might faint. The corner of Barnaby's mouth twitched skyward, like he was hoping you'd argue, but his boss beat him to the punch.

"We can reach an agreement, I’m sure. I'd hate to see a family establishment go under, especially when they have such lovely entertainment."

Apparently Wally was so smitten that he'd accept your company in lieu of money, and so the agreement (if you can even call it that, since you were coerced) was this– whenever a rose was delivered to you, you'd attend a rendezvous with him. When you returned to your dressing room later that evening, you discovered the first gift of several: your vase.

“I knew because of your eyes.”

The floral wallpaper in front of you shifts back into focus, Wally’s voice shaking you from your recollection.

“Pardon?”

“That night, you drew me in; I couldn’t concentrate on anything else, least of all a petty protection tax. And I knew I had to have you when I met your eyes.” He sounds dreamy, reminiscing as you were before, though his framing of events is worlds apart from your own; he recalls a destined encounter with his future partner, whereas you mark it the day your wings were clipped for good.

“They shone like stars, even through the smog.”

It’s only after he’s finished that you realize you’ve stopped moving, wrapped in an intimate hug like true lovers. A strange mix of pride and disgust floods you at the compliment, stomach flip-flopping rapidly.

He untangles from you, receding so that only your hands remain connected. The newfound distance eases some of your tension, but to your horror, you find yourself mourning the loss of the husky scent of his cologne. Loath as you are to admit it, the bastard smells amazing: a dark, leathery swirl of apples and saffron that you’d buy out if someone turned it into a candle.

“Let’s not delay any longer. You must be starving.”

True to his gentlemanly veneer, he seats you at the table before settling himself. You don’t see him call, but a server emerges immediately from the doors through which Howdy left with a tray of appetizers.

There are two graces you award Wally Darling: his excellent taste in cologne, and his staff’s Michelen-quality fare. Though they adopt the four courses typical of fine dining, the dishes are more grounded, toeing the border between grandma and Gordon Ramsay perfectly. Truthfully, you’re not even sure what to categorize it as; virtually everything is transfigured into a jello, pie, or salad, harkening back to the post-war cookbooks you used to gawk at as a child in your late mother’s library. The yellowed pictures in those books appeared extremely unappetizing, but somehow The Neighborhood makes it work.

It could be because of an illusive member named Poppy, one of the 7 who make up Wally’s illustrious inner circle. She’s scarcely seen due to her fretful and skittish nature, but Wally lauds her cooking and baking skills, regaling you in the past with plenty of kitchen mishaps that occurred when she tried to decompress by experimenting with recipes and was interrupted by their more excitable comrades. If you remember correctly, he once told you that most of the menus in rotation were created by her.

The nature of these duress-dates is wholly dependent on Wally’s mood– if he’s happy, then he’ll gladly chat your ear off about frivolous happenings in his and his friends’ private lives, though he takes care to be shrewd with any details that dive too deep into the murky underbelly lying just below. If he’s unhappy, then they can be utterly unbearable; his mere existence puts you on edge, so it’s exponentially worse when he’s out of sorts, tone curt and glare fierce.

Thankfully, he’s amiable tonight. The first 3 courses march on without incident, and painless conversation flows between the two of you, even if he does most of the talking– you’re not exactly eager to share more than you have to. It’s when the server presents dessert that things go awry.

“Say, how are those triplets you work with doing?” Wally says, spooning at the Bananas Foster. “I haven’t had the pleasure of catching a performance since our mishap a while back. So much paperwork, so little time, you know how it is.”

The mention of both your friends and the aforementioned Dorelaine incident have you bristling reflexively, but you do your best to tamp it down.

“They’re well, overall. Sometimes it’s difficult for them– their manager’s a real piece of work, and we get all types at the lounge.”

“I see…”

He lets out a long “hmmmm”, like he’s reflecting on this information.

“My family has also come upon hard times. It can be… trying, sometimes, to guide my children. Especially now, when we are under unjust attack.” He confesses, wistfully resting his chin on a thread-scarred palm. “Every family requires a head, but what is a head without a neck?”

Unjust my ass. Still, the weird metaphor confuses you.

“A neck?”

At that, his catlike grin only grows. What is he talking about?

“Yes, a neck; that is, someone who supports the head. I care for my family, so it’s only right I am cared for in return, wouldn’t you say?”

Though the phrasing is puzzling, you’re fairly confident you can infer what he’s purposefully dangling in front of you, and oh, it makes your stomach plummet. Sweat breaks out underneath your suddenly-sweltering outfit; it's as if you've been tied to a railroad and have managed to divert the train through pure will for a year, but now it's steamrolling square for you. The anxiety of impending doom renders you mute, unable to piece together a coherent thought.

Taking your silence in stride, Wally leans forward, intense as he grasps your hand in both of his own. The yellow fuzz does nothing to help how clammy you feel.

“What I mean to say is, I think that it’s time to settle down."

No.

“Wh– what? Settle down how?”

“To get married, silly.”

You’re unable to help the gasp that escapes you. No, no, no!

“Get married? You mean– to me?!”

“Of course. I’ve been courting you all this time, haven’t I?”

You sputter, and he rubs your hand as if to soothe you. His many gold rings gleam under the chandelier, teasing a glimpse of your fate.

“I know in the beginning you weren’t receptive to the idea of this life, but I've shown you that I can provide for you better than anyone else.”

Your expression must betray your surprise, because he chuckles– a slow, stilted sound that sends gooseflesh blooming across your skin.

“You thought I didn’t know? Howdy may not have reported it– which I’ll rectify in due time– but I have eyes everywhere, dear. You’re quite the talented actor, though.”

That trademark simper melts into something beguiling; he cradles you as if you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held.

“I love you, and I will take care of you, as I ask you to do for me. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”

An inviting facade of genuine affection, so ardent that you almost want to believe it. Wouldn’t that be the easiest path to take? To surrender to the hand that feeds, because where it strangles others, it caresses you sweetly? It’s more tempting than you’d ever divulge, because underneath the armor of aplomb you've so carefully forged, you're exhausted. This burden has been yours alone to bear– and what a bear it is, because if you mess up, the people you love could be injured, or worse. So much worse.

Perhaps sensing an opening, Wally continues.

“Be reasonable. The family welcomes you with open arms! Haven’t you missed having a family?"

The words stab you right through the heart, and your waning resolve springs back tenfold by the fury that ruddies your vision. When you rip your hand away, he makes no move to stop you.

"My friends are my family. I don’t want anyone else, especially not murderers!” You snarl. “You kill people– and torture and maim them! How can you expect me to accept this?!"

"All in a day's work when cleaning up the city, unfortunately," Wally hums. "I wish we didn't have to resort to such things, but you must understand. As it is, puppets are treated as less than, and hardship runs rampant for both humans and puppets alike. You’ve experienced these firsthand.” With the elegance of a master conman, he touches his chest in mock respire. “All we wish to do is provide a safe haven for those in need– somewhere to rest your bones, enjoy a hot meal, and where everyone accepts you as their own. A home.”

You abruptly stand up, feeling like you’re wound so taut that you could erupt at any moment. The mahogany chair behind you tips over from the force, striking the floor with a leaden thud, though the sound is deafened by the blood rushing in your ears.

“Bullshit! You don’t have to start a gang to combat discrimination or help suffering people! Maybe that spiel works on the poor saps you trick into doing your dirty work, but it won’t work on me. The answer is no.”

All is still for a moment as you struggle to calm your heaving breaths, trembling and locked in a quiet stalemate with Wally, who’s as relaxed as ever. Your attention flits from his right eye to where the left would be, if not for the lesion carved from a notch above his eyelid to an inch below, giving the illusion that what lies beneath is impaled.

Oh shit.

The magnitude of what just transpired comes crashing down as your adrenaline flushes out. After playing it safe for months– stomaching unwanted exorbitant gifts, being tailed by his employees, and rousted to innumerous “dates”– you just rejected Wally Darling in the most aggressive way possible. So you do the only thing that might garner you a chance to make it out of this alive: run.

You’re halfway across the room when 4 thick arms suddenly wrangle and force you to halt, a scream ripping itself from your throat out of fear. Can this motherfucker teleport now?! How the hell did he get here so fast?? Thrashing, you throw your head back to search Howdy’s face, desperate for an ounce of the sympathy he’d offered in the elevator, but it is in vain; his stony visage is impenetrable, as though it had never wavered.

“How about you sleep on it, hm? Think about all of your options. We wouldn’t want anything to happen to those little lambs when their adorable shepherd isn’t around to protect them.”

Delicate fingers cup your jaw, making you freeze as Wally stretches up to plant a faux-kiss on your cheek, complete with a small “mwah!”. You scowl daggers at him as he collects your hat from where it flew to the floor, dusts it off, and lovingly places it back on your head before giving you a few pats.

“Aw, don’t be that way, darling. I truly meant what I said; you have beautiful eyes. I can hardly wait to try one on.”

With a snap, you’re hauled over Howdy’s back and spirited out of the room, presumably to be transported to wherever you’ll be staying. Hopefully not Wally’s quarters.

It’s all too much; you feel like you’re trapped in a nightmare. How else did you expect this to end? You’re not sure. With all of the awful things he’s done, forcing you into marriage is not beyond him. You just thought you’d have more time: to plan, to save up enough money to take the girls and race to the hills.

Tears gather on your waterlines, and the minute your mouth wobbles, they spill ceaselessly. Full-bodied sobs wrack you, the pain of Howdy’s shoulder jutting into your midsection compounding the profound ache of sorrow. All this time, you’ve been trying to fight, but there was no fight to be had; it ended the moment his eyes found yours across the lounge that day.

#🐇 penned #🌈🖼️ wh #feat. some random ocs i made up for the sake of the fic #welcome home #welcome home x reader #wally darling x reader #x reader #reader-insert #yandere x reader #i love randomly throwing in ronald dorelaine #cause we have no idea who he is or what he's like #so he can be whatever i need him to be #yandere wally darling #yandere wally darling x reader #welcome home mob au #clownsuu

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burnt-by-marigolds · 6 days ago

Text

Astarion’s first bite: Vampirism in a nutshell

As a person who's spent the better part of their life consuming and analyzing various vampire media, I'd like to stop and appreciate the first time Astarion feeds from Tav. The scene, however brief, is simply delicious.

(I know it's probably already been written a thousand times all over the Internet, but I'm playing the game for the first time, let me have my fun.)

Vampire bite has been portrayed in a million different ways in popular culture. As an avid TTRPG player, I am probably the most used to the idea of Vampire the Masquerade’s ‘Kiss’: there, the act is generally intensely pleasurable for mortals, putting them in a state of daze that some even liken to orgasm, but victims retain hazy memories of it at best. It’s not unheard of for people to get addicted to the feeling and become so-called blood dolls, purposefully seeking out vampires just to experience the high again. Oh, and the bitemarks? No worries! All it takes is for the vampire to lick the wound after they're done feeding and the skin instantly heals.

I love VtM, but I'm glad this is not the case with Astarion.

The game makes a clear statement: being fed on by a vampire isn't a sexy or pleasurable thing. Even if Astarion tries to be civil about it, and Tav gives consent, this is still very much a predatory act, a physical intrusion. It's painful – like a shard of ice into your neck – and leaves the character weakened.

And Tav stays conscious for the entire time, gritting their teeth, trying to look at Astarion and figure out what exactly is happening to their neck. No haze to dull the memories, no painkillers or sedatives, no nothing. Sorry, Tav; you have to go through this acutely aware of every single sensation.

This contrasts profoundly with what the ‘pale elf’ is experiencing. While Tav feels pain and gets a very telling, brand new ugly wound, the vampire pulls away, clearly intoxicated and even incredulous. That was amazing. (...) I feel… happy!

This opposition is further emphasized by the game systems, namely the conditions the two characters receive. Tav becomes Bloodless, suffering a penalty to rolls etc. A classic victim of vampire bite: sluggish, strangely pale, with mysterious punctures on their neck… It's almost a pity we can't choose to decorate Tav’s tent with a garlic wreath.

Astarion, on the other hand, doesn't become, I don't know, Invigorated, or Sated, or Bloated As a Tick. No, the focus is again on him being… Happy. Not empowered (although he clearly is), but simply happy for the first time in gods know how long, as opposed to him being constantly on edge, on the run, and fighting for survival. He experiences a moment of bliss. This is a gift.

Thus the scene presents various facets of the vampire myth in a nutshell. Because what is a vampire? It's an animalistic monster who preys on humanity (cut to the painful wound on the neck and gritted teeth). It's a deceptively civil and charming individual, often tragic and very self aware (cut to Astarion asking for permission, saying how he's only ever fed on vermin or stating he won't forget the kindness). It's a blood junkie (cut to Astarion experiencing the rush of excitement and ‘happiness’). It's a parasite, because even if the feeding is consensual, we can clearly see which side reaps the benefits, and which is left weakened with nothing in exchange.

Oh, the complexity of the vampiric condition.

(The fact that vampiric bite is often a metaphor for sexual act isn't lost here, even if it's not the focus; it becomes more pronounced later, when Astarion reluctantly admits You were my first. Which, depending on the angle, may render the whole thing an even darker shade.)

And let me say again, all of this is packed neatly into a single, pretty brief scene. I love this game already.

PS The screenshots feature Yae, my half-elven goolock/bladelock. Say hello to him!

Thanks for reaching the end of the note! Please bear in mind I'm playing Baldur's Gate 3 for the first time and I haven't played any of the origin stories yet. Feel free to let me know if you think some things can be viewed differently in the context of the full game, but please avoid spoilers while doing so.

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #bg3 astarion #vampires #vampirism #opinion piece #vampire the masquerade #vtm #bg3

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cursedvida · 1 year ago

Note

Any headcanon about Buggy's kinks? NSFW if possible <3

SOME KINKY BUGGY HEADCANONS (NSFW || +18)

Warning: Praise kink, daddy kink and a lot of kinks in general. Minors not allowed please get away. A lot of swearing bc yeah. Dirty talk. y/n has femenine pronouns.

A/N: just some dirty toughs i have about this filthy guy. I hope you enjoy. <3

PD: my request are still open!

-Buggy likes to play. He is a natural teaser, he loves to make out-of-place comments to see how you react. A "fuck, you just made me super horny" totally out of place to turn you off.

-That brings me to one of his favorite hobbies: dirty talk. Buggy loves to say dirty things to you, both in and out of bed. It's one of his favorite pastimes, from being in the middle of a fight and saying something like "Fuck, baby, that punch you just gave him made me so hard" to "You like to see how hard you make me get when you moan for me like that, huh. Can you feel? That's what you did to my cock" right before you orgasm.

-The fact that you're a little younger than him is also something that turns him on. Buggy likes power, as insecure as he may be deep down, he enjoys feeling in control of the situation. That's why it's not uncommon to see him constantly refer to the fact that you're younger, especially through the nicknames he uses for you during sex: "baby doll, my little girl, baby girl, kid, little one…"

-In private - and always with a "joking" tone so that you cannot react badly - he often refers to himself as "daddy." ". He says things like, "Have you seen how amazing Daddy was today?" or "Do you know that Daddy has been waiting all day to have you on his cock?" But he also uses it for more casual things like, "Would you like to help Daddy put on his makeup?" or "Have you seen Daddy's hat?" It's not something you're particularly excited about, but it's not a game that bothers you either, and you know he likes it, so it's okay.

-He may not seem at first, but Buggy loves foreplay. He takes his time before starting to fuck you. He likes to take you to such a limit that you ask him to please put it in you. Get yourself so horny that you need it with all your being. He knows how to use his tongue and he uses it very well, oral is one of his greatest skills and he will make sure not to put it in you before you have cum a couple of times. He also loves receiving, of course, and seeing your face while you suck him is something that makes him lost his mind.

-Of course, Buggy uses his powers during sex. It is not something that he necessarily always does, it depends on the situation and what he wants, but he knows that his skills are very useful for performing certain practices during sex and he does not hesitate to use them if the situation requires it. The fact that he can use certain parts of his body to pleasure you in other places while he fucks you is something he resorts to regularly.

-He likes to watch you while you moan, it turns him on very much listening to you moan, asking for more, begging. Knowing that he has you under his net, that you have surrendered to him, that makes him hornier than anything.

-He loves that you praise him. Buggy needs validation all the time. Remember that, despite everything, he is a pretty insecure man, so hearing praise during sex is not only something that turns him on, but also helps him be more sure of himself. Hearing you say how good he is, how much you enjoy it, how good he fucks you… All those things are like music to his ears.

-He likes public sex. Well, actually, what he really likes is the idea of being able to fuck you anywhere, even if there may be people nearby. He likes to imagine scenarios in which you can't resist and start fucking like crazy anywhere, it's one of his fantasies.

-You know that Buggy likes to attract attention and be the center of everything, so don't be surprised if he really enjoys making you scream. He loves the idea of his crew hearing you moan, knowing that you are his and he is the one who gives you that pleasure. He will let you be as loud as you want because that means others will know who you belong to.

#buggy #buggy imagine #buggy the clown #buggy smut #buggy x reader #buggy x y/n #buggy headcanons #buggy the clown imagine #buggy x you #op buggy #one piece #one piece live action #opla buggy #buggy pirates #captain buggy #buggy live action #buggy one piece #buggy x oc #buggy d clown

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intertexts · 4 months ago

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oh you wanna think about muse and trickster? yeah? it's been a while since I put a heartbreaking nhw post in your inbox <3 I know u love the prime dehumanization loss of bodily autonomy defenders. << im not even remotely trying to keep the acronym the same anymore. I've lost the plot. ANYWAY

briefly mentioned this before but because I loooove the aesthetic so much I think at least one important muse confrontation should happen in the tricksters city, specifically in the amusement park. make it like a fuckign scooby door episode everything is all abandoned and run down but as the wards are walking down a boardwalk or something all the lights flicker on and some distorted fuckign. carnival music starts playing and they find muse sitting in like. the rebar scaffolding or whatever in the ferris wheel. just like grinning chin in hands kicking his feet watching them. this image is so clear in my mind. some creep shit !!!! also its like when they first go to the spirit world to get tide back from.mal and end up in the amusement park. except ashe isn't with them this time

uhhhhhh also thinking about. downtime. when muse isn't out being destructive and causing chaos for funsies. like... does he have a bedroom????? does he eat does he sleep??? idfk !!!! I would assume he has to or else he'd fucking die but !!!! man the trickster is so far gone I don't think he even realizes his puppets are real people anymore. that's a fun little doll for him to play dressup with. literally never going 2 get the image of him braiding muses hair and like. putting makeup on him and dressing him in fancy little outfits out of my mind. making myself ILL. smile! good evening I'm gently placing the knife box in your in. << as I was going to type inbox I accidentally typed out inventory. yknow what I'm keeping it. knife box directly into your inventory. watch out they're RUSTY

GOD. THANKS FOR THE KNIFE BOX MAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! knife box directly in my inventory!!! u know what this means is that now i can use them :3 <- has been drawing wards stuff abt this for the past two hours ^_^

this is so fucking good though yeahhh.... i love creepy carnival shit so much. he trickster probably Knows it's very over the top and horror movie creepy and just a little absurd. he's so fucking fun 2 think abt since he's literally always doing shit simply because it is funny to him. we can swing a trickster justification for anything probably. i bet he fucking saw traps people!! anyway. ashe isn't with them this time. except..... well. he kind of is. :(

I HAVE ALSO BEEN THINKING ABT DOWNTIME. FREQUENTLY. i guess. the answer to this is he lives however the trickster&co does. the image of him coming back in his fancy intricate little outfits to some disgusting nasty bloody industrial warehouse where they're posted up & always being this very jarring contrast to the gore and violence is really good. the image of him having a perfect doll bedroom and going through a fancy little routine half the nights when the trickster is in a good mood or feeling it & just. getting thrown on the bed & the door locked to pass out for a couple hours whenever he forgets or is busy is also really good. literally anything we do to muse makes me feel some kind of way man. i also have had the extremely vivid image of the trickster braiding his hair & chatting about all kinds of horrific things excited sleepover style to muse who is just. Visibly Not There in my head for so long. not even like he has to touch him, he could be making him do all these things for himself! he's literally controlling him! he just does it for fun!!!

anyway i think post-muse ashe should get to freak out very badly in a multitude of ways whenever anybody touches his hair. like i think he's touch-adverse in general (& miserable about it because he's also so touchstarved & his brain simply whites out in distress anytime anyone touches him because. literally the only person doing that was the trickster!!!!) but i think specifically his hair being messed with is a bad trigger for him. makes him freeze up n go nonverbal for hours. dakota knows that he's jumpy about touch but he still wants to do something for him & before the everything he loved them playing with his hair (its so long!! wibby & dakota think its so pretty!! virion's the only one who knows how to braid it because of his mom!! ashe melts into a puddle over it every time because nobody's ever done that for him before!) so he goes to just run fingers through it & ashe just. fullbody locks up and goes weird and still and silent & doesn't protest or fight back when dakota shakes his shoulder or smth and his eyes are distant and sort of dark and empty like virion's were most of the time when they first met him... maybe he wants to cut it a little bit just because he hates that it's been covered in The Ooze and he can't do anything with it without thinking about how the trickster would do the same thing but also he hates the idea of getting rid of the one thing abt himself that he really likes & is a little connection with both of his parents because of the trickster also, when he's already taken so much from him. (it does have to get gross and tangled and matted because he refuses to put it back or do anything to it for a while though. maybe virion helps him sort it out & it's slow and painstaking and miserable for both of them and they both feel better at the end of it.)

#yeah!!!! yeah!!!!!!! that's a fun little doll for him to play with!!! his favorite one so he takes good care of it. & maybe whenever ashe #is lucid he sees how everyone the trickster controls but Doesn't really like is treated & it's terrifying. he hates this so much but god he #doesn't want to be that either so maybe he should just behave well so the trickster doesn't get fed up with him (he never would he's too #powerful and useful) and he doesn't end up Like That. but ohhhhhh god he hates this too it makes his skin crawl and he wants to run but he #can't. etc. also the idea of him waking up in a fancy little dollhouse ass bedroom with the hazy syrupy dream memories of whatever #nightmarish horrors were happening with muse the day before... just facedown on an ornate bed blood and gore still crusting a beautiful #outfit he's never seen before in his life. door's locked and deadbolted and whenever he tries to use his powers it's like trying to move #when you're excruciatingly sore and in pain from something the day before. etc.#anyway. GOD. tag rambling. thank u for the rusty knives ilyyyy i have missed fucked up wardsposting lately SO BAD!!!! i need to get back on #this shit. ough. i love the prime dehumanization loss of bodily autonomy defenders!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#mac tag!#new haven wards

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gold-rhine · 2 years ago

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For the ask game, what about edging, dollification, collars with Albedo, Diluc, and Heizou?

warnings nsfw

hmm, edging and collars work for basically anyone, lets start with dollification. i'm leaving albedo out of this bc it feels both the most obvious and also bc he has his unhealthy hang ups on being an artificial creation which i wouldn't want to touch. now, both diluc and heizou would be fun, but in completely different ways.

like, if u told heizou "hey baby, today you'll be my pretty little doll," he'd be SO excited. he's into roleplay in general, loves feeling helpless and completely in your power, loves being manhandled and things being done to him, would adore to be dressed up and pampered and showed off as your pretty treasure. the problem is that he can't keep still for longer than 5 minutes or his hyperactive ass will die. so it wouldn't be so much dollification, as "enthusiastic heizou vibrating at high velocities for few minutes, trying to not move before breaking into giggles, whimpers and writhing." like he'd still be fun, just not very on theme.

now, diluc tho, that'd be a complicated case, i'm almost tempted to actually write it out. is he straightforwardly into this at first? no, but diluc is so repressed, he doesn't know shit about what he wants until it punches him in the face. he'll be open to try bc you asked, but dismissive like he doesn't even see the point. though passivity will be secretly appealing to him bc he's awkward and always anxious about doing something wrong or being too wooden and weird, so the fact that there's basically nothing for him to fuck is comforting. he'll see this as a challenge, bc diluc sees everything as a challenge, but it has clearly defined rules and expectation by which he can judge his performance, so that works well for him.

the thing is that diluc is already on several layers of dissociation, he sees his body as this kind of meat puppet, a tool to do things with, sometimes useful, sometimes inconvenient. so forcing him to ground himself in the sensations, in his body by focusing on it, being hyper-aware of positioning and movements might be very good for him, while also providing him safe space to realize he enjoys things without the psychological struggle to allow himself it first, bc it's not his decision, it's you playing with him as with literal doll.

so like, dressing him up in a pretty dress, positioning him carefully in front of the mirror, so he has to see himself, scars and all, being treated like a fragile and precious thing. leaving him for some pauses so he has to stew in this view, going back to make adjustments, touch him almost casually, nonchalantly, pretending not to notice that he's getting riled up, bright blush, cock getting harder. moving him to more and more provocative positions, until he's half undone, playing gently with his hair, while the sweet shame and desire and softness melt through his barriers, until it turns from a challenge to maintain stillness to actually relaxing and letting go of control, so when you fuck him, he's pliant, tension finally gone, trusting and open with his body.

collars - heizou would be into it, but i've already wrtten a fic with leashplay for him, and the social aspects of collars are kinda lost with him, bc like. he's just like THAT anyway. he's already wearing a choker, shirt with the sides cut off, his gloves are a combo of red ties and fishnet. he can show up to work wearing bedazzled "Master's little cumslut <3" collar and no one would blink an eye, except kujou sara who'd yell at him for dishonoring the tenryuo commission and he'd be like show me where in the regulations it says i can't be a cumslut, no i dont care about the spirit of the law, show me the exact paragraphs. so like it'd be fun, but i feel like it also derails the prompt lmao

albedo tho is that kind of introverted clingy where he won't be actively pestering you for attention, but he will drop anything if you ask him to spend time with you for as long as possible, and will be unashamedly open about it. he's also pretty direct about showing preferences to ppl he likes in public and in companies, as we've seen in few events now. so i think he'd actually be into collars unironically, as the symbol of belonging and being connected even when not together, an open unspoken secret that he's yours. he'd have very tasteful narrow leather collar, dyed darkest blue to match the darks of his outfit, with the golden ring in the center framing the gold diamond mark on his throat. like, it passes quite easily for fashion accessory for most ppl, for these in the know its like - is this ring for what i think it is??? or is this his artistic shit to accent the skin mark?? and like since albedo can be quite a mischievous smug troll, he can catch the confusion and press on it with absolute poker face, until the person is embarrassed that they were even assuming it, and then he'd drop a banger of double entendre that suggests, but doesn't confirm anything, again with innocent poker face. albedo would have a lot of fun with it

but also, the imagery of his "imperfection" framed, left open, just for you. the clasp of the leash, when closed, touching the gold diamond. silent acknowledgment of his nature and acceptance of it, the triple secret meaning of vulnerability under the already existing layer of suggestiveness. him sitting at your feet, surrounded by papers and drawings for his research, working as usual, but content to be close, glowing softly when he feels your fingers gently run through his hair from time to time, reaching up both eagerly and obediently when you tug up his leash. much to play with a little prince.

edging - heizou is so fun to tease <3 put him into your lap, hold him close, take your time. he's sensitive, responsive, eager, he'll squirm, whine, whimper, beg shamelessly, tease, cling to you, try to catch your hands if you don't tie him up, but get back to behaving if you scold him, pout, writhe helplessly, arc, moan, never shutting up for a second, regressing into some incoherent sweet and horny nonsense in the end. mwah best kitten.

#rhine talks #rhine writes filth #sub heizou #sub diluc #sub albedo #genshin smut

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agrosehamada · 1 year ago

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I'm taking a moment to appreciate how healing AG-blr has been for me :) Growing up I was absolutely obsessed with AG, but I didn't really have any friends who were into AG, and my siblings didn't want to play with dolls, so I was kind of left in my own little hyperfixation bubble all alone. I mean my mom liked AG but that wasn't the same as having someone to play with. Yes I hosted multiple AG themed birthday parties and even put on a backyard productions of both the Molly and Felicity plays but no one... Really got it?

I remember the last AG birthday I had, having my brother tell me that my friends were all talking about how they were "too old" for AG when I was out of the room, and I think that was the beginning of the end for me because not too long after that I put my AG dolls in a cedar chest with all their things and closed it up.

I was still kind of interested in AG in highschool. I remember visiting the AG Store when the one in my state opened. And I remember desperately wanting a special doll I could make a wardrobe for and take everywhere with me. I had a little success with a few handmade dolls but nothing that really stuck, and my sewing skills were not up to par with what I wanted to make so I kind of gave up on that too.

Then the end of highschool happened, and I kind of went into survival mode. My mom's health got really bad. I had to start working and taking evening college classes on top of regular highschool and helping out more at home. Which kind of put my mental health in a crisis mode which kind of broke in my first year of college. Which finallygot me the help that I needed. But then I got kicked out for being queer and I was REALLY in survival mode, although I was lucky enough to have first a friend's family and then one of my siblings take me in through the end of college.

I remember getting mildly interested in AG again once I was working my first full time job and living with my first non-family roommates. I was (and still am) really into Big Hero 6 at the time, and when Luciana came out with her little robotics lab I ended up ordering her. Then I bought a secondhand Nellie, one of my grail dolls from childhood I never got to have. So that opened the door.

But then I remember being on Tumblr and finding some AG blogs and being like, "Hey! There's other adults who like AG and create their own characters?" And I really wanted to be a part of that. But I wasn't sure what kind of character I'd want to make. And then I remembered an old BH6 fanbaby I'd made in college and was like, "There's no way AG has a pink hair option." (I didn't really know about doll customizing back then so I didn't know wig swaps were a thing.) And then I checked the CYO generator and guess what was an option? XD

I was not in the best financial state, so it took a few months for me to be able to afford Rose, and then another anxious month of waiting for Rose to get here, in the meantime trying to plan out her wardrobe in the style of the og historical girls. And I made a placeholder blog for once she finally got here.

I finally came home to her delivery sometime in the early am after an event--if you go waaay back to the very beginning of this blog you can find a video of me very emotionally opening Rose's box for the first time XD Love at first sight for sure, I was happy to have my little girl home, and I had no clue how she'd change my life.

From there snowballed my deep dive into doll clothes making--I planned to buy Rose's clothes originally, but I couldn't find a school uniform I liked, and there was a very specific anime winter coat I wanted to make. I'd been making cosplays for a few years but then, so my sewing skills were finally up to the task. And then I just kept getting more cute outfit ideas and so... I just kept making them XD

And then I started posting pictures of the outfits on this blog. And adding new dolls to the family and posting about them too. And I am so honored you guys were so excited about my posts and brought me into the community! I saw your posts and got the inspiration to start taking Rose out places to get pictures, and she quickly became my emotional support doll, going everywhere with me and helping me through some of my worst mental health times. And I've been fortunate enough to actually get to meet some of you in person, and talk with so many of you online! And I even managed to rope my best friend into AG with your support XD It's really been such an amazing community, and I finally have friends who get my love of AG, and I finally have that special doll I take everywhere with me :)

So--thank you, AG-blr ^^ You're all amazing, and I look forward to many more adventures with you :)

#american girl doll #agblr #dashi gets personal #long post

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fandomfuntimem · 1 year ago

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Second chances au

Part 1, part 3

Chapter 2: Playground

So. It's currently summer and a week before that day. The worst day of Michael's life. Michael only has a week to make sure it doesn't all go to shit. It's only been a few hours since breakfast and so far everything has been generally ok. A few flinches from Evan and a few mini crises from Michael, but over all it's fine. They were all just sitting on the couch, The Immortal and The Restless was playing on the TV. Michael almost forgot how much he loves this show, he would always watch reruns of it after work. He felt for the baby. An absent father and a mother who was just too focussed on her hatred for her husband to pay attention to her own child. How unfortunate.

Elizabeth and Evan were on the otherside of the couch. Elizabeth was busy brushing her dolls, meanwhile Evan just seamed bored. Michael couldn't blame him, this show does get repetitive. It didn't even get a propper ending! It got cancelled in '88 because the main voice actress killed her husband, so they had to rush it. Soon, Michael also began to feel bored. He just got back from the future and he hasn't even explored his childhood town yet. What if, somehow, things were different? It was a nice day. The sun was shining, its warm, a few clouds in the sky, and a nice breeze was going. Oh! Michael thought, I can take Evan and Lizzie to the playground! They'll like that right? He was sure they would!

Michael stands and claps his hands grabbing Elizabeth and Evan's attention. "I'm bored! How about we go to the park?" He exclaimed with a smile. Unfortunately this only earned him a couple of suspicious and concerned glares, Shit. Elizabeth stood up on the couch to get to his eye level, leaning forword she glared at him, "are you sure you're ok? You hate the park! Even when you do go you spend the entire time terrorizing other kids with you 'friends'," she hissed 'friends' as if it was a curse. Fair. Michael's old friends weren't the nicest people. Now, how does he defuse this situation? How does he convince them to go to the playground???

"If my friends show up I'll beat the shit out of them." Nice. Situation handled.

Elizabeth looked thoughtful. She looked at Evan, then back at Michael, "fine! We'll go. But you have to swear on that! AND! You have to buy us ice cream!" She exclaimed. Ice cream? Ice cream sounds nice! He hasn't had ice cream since he got scooped. Ice cream scoopers do kinda make him uncomfortable though... still! He will do it for Lizzie and Evan! "Alright. Then. I swear I will deffend both of you with my fists and my life. Aswell as buy you ice cream." Michael grinned as Elizabeth squealed and dragged Evan away to get ready.

***

Michael felt like crying. Elizabeth won't stop talking about getting "the biggest heap of ice cream" and how she wants them to use "the largest scooper they have." He gets it, she's a kid and is very excited for ice cream, but Jesus Christ. Michael felt his gut ache at just the thought of that vile machine. It doesn't help that Circus baby was possessed by the alternate dead version of his sister, and was using her voice to tell him all about the scooper. Evan must have picked up on his discomfort, because he saw the little boy shoot him a fiew concerned glances.

When they got to the ice cream place Elizabeth insisted on the largest size. "Please! Please! Pleeeeeaaasssseee! Mikey!" She was tugging at his arm and swinging around, "Daddy always lets me get the biggest size!"

"No. I won't have enough to buy us all one! You're getting a medium."

"Nooooooo," she whined, "i want a laaarge. Come oooon"

Michael sighs, turns to Evan and crouches down it his hight, ignoring the tantrumming mess behind him. "What do you want Evan? Mediam, no toppings," he said gently.

Evan looked at the sullection then up at Michael, "Butter Pecan," he said, pointing with his fazbear plush.

"Alright then."

Michael got Elizabeth a Medium. She pouted the entire time but ate it anyways. Michael got himself some soft served vanilla. He felt for the ice cream, so soft serve felt like the more humane way to serve it. No big scary scooper. Evan enjoyed his ice cream in silence, kicking his feet and smiling. It was nice.

The walk to the park was uneventful. By the time they got there the sun was high and plenty of kids were running around. Michael waited on the bench and watched his siblings play. Some parents were cautious, he wasn't surprised concidering his track record of mocking the kids. Some seemed more concerned he wasn't doing anything. Thats the least of his worries though. Right now he is on watch. Making sure his siblings are just happy. Evan was even willing to let him old onto his fredbear for him! No one is gonna touch this thing!

Then he heard a shout. It was Evan, and he's crying. Michael jogs over to see him sitting on the ground and holding his knee. Tears streamed down his face while Elizabeth did her best to calm him down. "What's wrong? What happened?" Michael asked, crouching to Evan's level. The air almost seamed tense with how many parents and kids were watching them.

"He fell over," Elizabeth stated, "his knee is bleeding."

Indeed it was. Michael reaches into his bag and pulls out a pack of sanitary wipes and baindaids. "Don't worry. Dr Mike is here with his assistant nurse Fredbear," he grinned cleaning up the scrape. Everything seamed to go back to normal. The sound of a child crying had always seemed to set Michael off after that day.

Evan had giggled at the small fredbear joke. He gently took fredbear back, looked at Michael and through his mix of tears and snot and said, "That was lame." Michael laughed along. It was lame, but atleast he made Evan smile.

***

By the time they were walking home the sun was already setting. Elizabeth held Michael and Evan's hands and happily trotted along. Evan was completely tuckered out. He was rubbing his eyes and lazily trying to keep up. Michael had offered to carry him, but it didn't seem like he was too comfortable with that notion yet. Thats ok.

Today everything has just been so perfect. It's everything Michael had ever wished for. Of course. Nothing is every perfect for too long. "Hay Mike! Whats with you being so cuddly all of a sudden?" Erick. His snarky, cockyass voice pierced the ears like a fine needle. Michael always hoped he would never hear or see him again.

Michael looks up. Freddy, Chica, Bonnie. All they need is their foxy, "Listen Erick. I just thought about some stuff. I'm done."

"What do you mean 'you're done'?" Finch snarked. Bonnie was always the more aggresive one.

"I mean I'm done. I'm done being a bully. I'm done with scaring Evan, I'm done with beating up kids. I'm just done."

"We've all been through thick and thinn together man. You can't just throw that away for your crybaby brother and spoiled ass sister. What the hell made you change your mind anyway?" Jeremy glared. In all honesty the Freddy mask makes him far less menacing. Almost hokey even. How were they ever menacing?

"I- well- I got grownded. Yeah. I just had time to think and I decided the way we act, behave, and the way we treat others is just shitty. We're just being assholes," Michael stated. That did not sit well with the group of boys standing before them. Feeling a tug, Michael looked down to see Evan, "can we go home now?" He said in a small voice, "I'm scared."

Michael felt all his muscles relax, he didn't even realise how tense they were, "sure bud. We can go home. We'll take a different rout," he said, briefly glaringnat his old friends before turning to leave.

He wasn't even ten steps into leaving before he felt a fist slamming into the back of his head. Michael paused. He heard the laughing behind him. Their disgusting laughter. The laughter he heard that day. The laughter he heard every time they made fun of Evan. Every. Single. Time. He reaches up to his head and felt the familiar sticky warm sensation of blood, must have been some brass knuckles... Blood. He was bleeding... he. Was. Bleeding. He was alive! Michael hasn't bled in decades! He hasn't felt pain in so long, he almost forgot how it felt. He smiled. Then he began to laugh. Turning to face the group of boys he grinned. Don't get him wrong, the punch hurt, but the pain he felt in the life before was far worse. This was going to be fun.

Finch, the one who threw the punch, stopped laughing. He looked scared. Good. Michael threw his whole body into his punch knocking Finch onto his back. The crunch of the cheap plastic mask mixed with the yelp of pain was almost satisfying. Evan was now fully crying while Elizabeth held onto him. Michael looked back for one second to make sure they were ok, and somehow in that single second Jeremy and Erick came for him aswell. Now it was an allout brawl. Oh well.

Jeremy tried to grab him from behind. Michael elbowed him in the face before turning around and decking him as hard has possible. A tooth flew out of his mouth. Michael may have forgotten how hard is too hard to punch, last time he got into a fight it was with a giant yellow bunny. Hopefully thats the worst injury Jeremy will ever sustain. '87 was a rough year for him.

Erick, meanwhile, whent for the legs. Michael was too focussed on Jeremy to see it coming before he was already on the ground and getting pummeled. Three against one is not fair. It felt like an eternity of struggling and fighting. The stress only rose when Evan and Elizabeth were yelling at them to stop.

Then all of a sudden, BWOOP BWOOP! "Hurricane police! Seperate and put your hands up!"

Shit.

***

In all honesty. The police station wasn't too bad. Yeah it was cold and sitting in a cell sucked, but atleast Michael got treatment for his injuries. Poor Elizabeth and Evan had to vouch for him and explain what happened. Apperently whoever called the police also told the police he was just deffending himself. So that was good. Unfortunately, Michael had watched as the rest of the Masked Muskateers whent home with their parents. Meanwhile, Michael was stuck. Waiting. Dreading.

The sound of the cell door sliding open startled him out of his thoughts. "You're free to go kid," the cop said. Michael briefly thanked him, whent to pick up his belongings, then entered the lobby.

In the lobby there was a very familier figure in his signature purple suit, clutching the head of a certain yellow bunny costume.

"Michael."

"Father."

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weaselle · 7 months ago

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i miss this. I've just been in such a non-creative rut for the last few years. But i'm just starting to break out of it lately. Even started a bone sculpting project a few weeks ago (processing the bones is talking several weeks as it turns out)

Anyway i saw a post on here yesterday that got me briefly interested in my old video game idea and the artist who posted it just agreed to let me commission them to do concept art for it and i'm getting pretty excited about it!

So it's time to go back through and reconnect with Starsys 9 my dream video game project.

It combines a mix of genres, so players can be like, a cyborg human piloting a robot mech, or an alien beast creature, or an elven vampire necromancer, etc.... playing these diverse characters in a MOBA ARPG with FPS and RTS elements.

(please excuse my "drawings", you can see why i'm excited to commission someone for some better concept art)

there are 3 factions: Cyberians, the Sporeborn, and Dimenkind

Cyberians - humanoid cyborgs that often pilot robot mech suits

Sporeborn - Different alien species (many insectoid) all unified through infection by a sapient fungus

Dimens or Dimenkind - fantasy/horror genre characters like dwarves and werewolves that are pulled from other dimensions by godlike cthulhuic trans-dimensional beings (hence the name Dimens, from the word dimension, but also like demons)

each faction requires some but not all of the resources available on the planet, (water, organic hydrocarbons, minerals/metal, sulfur, methane) and they fight for access to, or control of, these resources. Resources typically need to be harvested and processed, and each faction has special installations/work units to do this.

Each faction has access to specific types of damage, with some overlap. Each faction tends to have weakness to certain damage types and resistance to certain damage types. Cyberians do: kinetic(bullets)/explosive/physical (melee)/electric/laser Sporeborn do: plasma/physical (melee)/chemical/biological Dimenkind do: physical (melee)/elemental/magic damage/curse damage (debuffs)

The total effect of resource needs, damage weaknesses, damage resistance, and damage capabilities results in a sort of nesting doll system of rock/paper/scissors relationships

Each faction maintains a control zone, in which their dominant resources are provided to player characters for free in AOE dispersal fields.

Cyberians use relay beacons to broadcast resources as particle beams made of individual atoms to be reconstructed into materials. Sporeborn use spore piles to waft clouds of spores that provide sporeborn characters with resources, and Dimens use altars that generate large circles of magic energy.

Another key feature of the game is team-leading. Each player has a certain number of points to spend on npc supports that are assigned to them. There are three size classes of support, each size class costs a different number of points, so a player can choose how to spend their support points to have a whole bunch of small supports, or one of each size, or one big one and a few small ones etc. Some skill tree options increase the number of points available to spend on supports.

Cyberian supports are droids and bots, Sporeborn supports are spore-infected alien animals, and Dimen supports are goblins and zombies and trolls and things.

personal npc supports can be given complex commands using a communication wheel. Leveling up increases the number and complexity of these commands

Each faction's control zone also has unassigned npc supports wandering around doing control zone maintenance and upgrade tasks. Players can temporarily command a couple of these unassigned npcs, as players raise their rank they increase the number of npcs they can claim in this way. These npcs can only be given a small number of very basic commands. However, they can be put under the control of the players personal supports, assigned to perform the same behaviors as that support unit, who can then be given the more complex commands. In this way groups of unassigned npc supports can be deployed by player characters to perform complex maneuvers as a unit.

Additionally, each faction has a technique for taking over command of enemy npcs. Dimens can raise dead npcs, Cyberians can hijack npcs trekie-borg style, and Sporeborn can infect npcs with their fungal spores

There is a lot more (character class breakdowns, huge portions of additional gameplay mechanics like how the RTS elements work, i even wrote a short story as a kind of trailer to introduce the game and showcase a sort of vibe for it) but this post is long enough already

#starsys 9 #starsys9 #star system 9

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purple-plum-petals · 8 months ago

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Hello! Please forgive me. If its alright with you, can I get a romantic fnaf security breach matchup? I want to change some matchup details

My pronouns are she/her and I am an introvert. I am straight and prefer guys but if that doesn't count than you can ignore. I don't really like revealing much about myself so you can say that I'm shy and mysterious. My hobbies include dancing (especially ballet and sometimes kpop) and video games like Street Fighter and Mobile Legends. My talent is fitting into kids clothes because of slender my body is. I am a little pale and I get cold very easily, and I guess a little fragile (my bones pop often). My expression tends to look very distant and sad. I cannot emphasize enough how much I want to look like a Ball Jointed Doll, so I try to get as many sweet lolita dresses as possible. I love candy (especially strawberry flavoured ones), but I love tea and coffee more. I also like wearing (and buying) anything pink. I don't like heavy or gourmet meals (or food in general). If I were to be an animatronic, I'd be a cat.

Thank you so much! Feel free to ignore this!

Thank you for sending in a match-up; I think that either Sun or Glamrock Freddy would be good matches for you! I also incorporated the love languages you had mentioned in one of the other asks you had sent me.

Sun is nearly the complete opposite of you personality-wise, but I think that could be something that could benefit both of you in different ways; he could help brighten up your day while your more reserved nature reminds Sun to hold back a little when it comes to his own outgoing (and occasionally overwhelming) personality. Sun loves seeing you smile, so he'd do whatever he can to turn your usual resting frown upside down. Sun also enjoys dancing much like you do, and he would love to watch you dance or even dance with you if you were alright with that! He may look scrawny, but he's actually very strong and could lift you up into the air with no problem. Sun also tends to run on the hotter side so, if you ever needed to warm yourself up, he'd be happy to be your personal heater. I feel like Sun would adore your sense of style as well, always excited to see what cutesy and frilly outfit you put together; he'd be your #1 cheerleader and would be sure to hype you up whenever he had the chance! You and Sun also have very similar love languages (physical touch, words of affirmation, and gift-giving), so you'd both be able to express and receive what you need out of the relationship easily.

Freddy is a very understanding and caring individual who will always be there if you want to talk or need any kind of support; this animatronic is the king of affirmation. While not being very light on his feet (or paws, in this case), Freddy would still want to dance with you if you ever wanted to show him first-hand your love of dance; when not dancing with you, though, he'd be happy to play some music for you and simply watch you from the sidelines. Despite not being that great when it comes to video games, he'd be happy just being able to spend time with you playing the games you like while you most likely completely destroy him in Street Fighter; he's a great loser, though, and always makes sure to compliment you on your amazing wins. Freddy would also keep a stash of candy on his person at all times just in case you got a sudden craving for sweet treats, always making sure he's stocked up with strawberry-flavored candies as they’re your favorite. Freddy also makes sure to compliment your outfits every time he sees you, almost in awe of your style; he doesn't have the opportunity to change much about his appearance, so he loves seeing what outfits you manage to put together whenever he sees you.

#🌸 . Plum Writes #🌿 . plum speaks #🎉 . 400 followers match maker event!#fnaf security breach #sun #sunrise #glamrock freddy #s4ber

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letters-to-rosie · 1 year ago

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talk revolution to me: arcane fanfiction playlist

there are few moments more exciting as a fanfic author than when someone makes something inspired by your work. in this case, we have a playlist made by @arrowdite, and in this post, because there were rationales for every song picked, I wanted to respond! the playlist is a work in progress, and this post is, too! thanks again, friend! 💖💖💖

check out the fic here!

1. Black Sheep - this is pulled from my regular Timebomb playlist. I think it fits the state we find Ekko and Powder in, regardless of the universe. Now that the truth is just a rule that you can bend / You crack the whip, shape-shift, and trick the past again

I really like the lines you pulled out on the past for this one. The vibe of the song, like sonically, is very Powder I feel, and the lines about the past really fit with how I just kind of drop the reader into the story, into Powder and Ekko's relationship in the main timeline, before I bothered to explain how they got like that in the first place lol. Their own lack of understanding about what really happened between them and the other's motivations when they were kids is such a big part of their arc, so these lyrics really fit, not just the ship in general but this... articulation, I guess lol, of them.

2. Run Wild - I imagine Powder listening to this song to hype herself up as she heads to The Last Drop in chapter 2. I think some of the lyrics in the chorus fit her when we first meet her, too: determined, but aimless. I’m on a mission and I won’t stop / No destination but it’s worth a shot

For two, she wasn’t going to go. She wasn’t. But then she got back to her apartment, dumped her bag out on the floor, and saw that stupid green eye staring back up at her. She has nightmares about green eyes, sometimes waking, sometimes sleeping. Her worst ones are the what-ifs—if she had just done something different that day, or any of the days preceding it, what kind of life would she be living? Some of the what-ifs hurt for their immateriality, while others make her happy for what she’s got. And with Viktor, the human manifestation of her meager impulse control, gone for the weekend, Powder put on some music, dolled herself up, and got on the move.

She'd be playing this while getting ready haha, dancing in her apartment and feeling angry in a way she can't express right. She really is wild in that chapter. And that aimless state is so important, because Ekko is kinda right when he says she's not offering any alternative, but that's not even what she's trying to do at that point. Plus, this song is just fun, and I feel like Powder would like it lol. I also really enjoy the Thutmose reference, bringing it back to Ekko!

3. Pathetic - Powder’s opinion of Ekko at this point in the story, revealed when he makes his first appearance in chapter 2. …It's been / 1460 days since we were alright / You're having trouble sleeping and I think I know why / 1460 days since we were alright / But now you're just pathetic, I said it

Okay, I just really like this one hahahahaha like?? I can't even describe what exactly it is about it, but after a couple listens, it just stuck in my head. But considering "pathetic" is a word Powder uses in their fight at the end of chapter 2, it gets that other layer of meaning. The irony here is that Powder doesn't know why Ekko has trouble sleeping—and in Ekko's POV, we see how different that night plays out to him. In her head, he's just this posturing villain, and he is like that a little bit, but she has no idea the cognitive dissonance she's about to inflict on this man. Until later, hehehe. It's also fun to imagine Powder dancing to this one with a hairbrush as a mic. I'm sure y'all get the vision.

4. Pieces Of The People We Love - A character song for Powder. She has lost a lot of people and carries their memories with her, across distance (Vi), change (Ekko), and even death (Vander, Tovan, Mylo, Claggor, her parents…). As much as it can pain her, she keeps those people close to her heart. I think this is one of her strengths. She may not know how to express it, but she has a lot of love to give. Like when her empathy is on display at the hospital; though she doesn’t know the people there, they get to her. She takes them with her. Decides to stop looking away. Start her club. In short, the pieces of the people she loves are what drive her to build a better future. And all our time together is tearing me apart / I can't hold you tomorrow but I hold you in my heart

I remember I was actually really nervous about writing Jinx as a main character, just because I tend to relate more to Vi in canon, but working on this fic led me to appreciating things that hadn't stood out to me before. Jinx literally keeps versions of the people she lost near her because of how heavily the trauma weighs on her. I wanted revolution!Powder to have some of that same energy. The song has this kind of anxious energy, and I feel like that connects well with how Powder feels throughout the chapter. She's really knocked off-kilter in chapter 3, and she has to decide how she's going to deal with not only what Ekko said but what she's going to do with these "pieces of people she loves," and that really is what motivates her. She takes off the blinders and decides to empathize with others. I'm like a proud mom lol I love her!

5. Memories - Chapter 5, Ekko and Powder’s reunion at the community center. How Powder remembers Ekko and how he appears to her now juxtapose each other in her mind’s eye. And it’s reciprocated: Ekko is baffled to see her. I imagine they’re both confused about how to rectify the discrepancy in their minds. My memories came back in the form of someone else / …Why won’t you love me now? Why won't you love me now? / …You shouldn’t be on your high horse, we’re not so stable anymore

Yeah, they were both very confused lmao. They both have very preconceived notions of who the other is, and they don't really take well to the disruption to that. I alluded to it in the notes, and he says it outright in chapter 20, but Ekko really thought Powder was following him lol. And Powder accuses him of stalking her, even though she's able to put together that he went to school in that neighborhood way back in the day and would probably have some connections in that part of the city. She's also very much on a project to knock Ekko off his high horse after he retaliates with that threat. But as the creator of this playlist pointed out in a comment on this chapter, Ekko's not the only one being self-righteous! Plus more Thutmose! Yayyyyyy (for those who might not know, he's one of the people who provides Ekko's voice for True Damage!)

6. Hard Times - Chapter 6, but applies to Powder’s whole situation. “Vi huffs. ‘You gotta stop being so hard on yourself, Pow.’ ‘Tell life to be softer on me.’”

Is this the time to admit that I fully fit into that stereotype that black people love Paramore? I have a friend who's black and Brazilian and apparently the stereotype travels lmao. But I actually hadn't heard this particular song before, and I really enjoy it! Another one for Powder to dance and have a crisis to. But the funny thing about the particular quote from chapter 6 that was pulled here is it was actually inspired by another song with kind of similar enegry? "Softer to Me" by Relient K, because I grew up during a time when "Sadie Hawkins Dance" and "Be My Escape" were big hits, and that band was pretty formative for my teen years. I used to listen to them and Paramore on playlists I made in the late 2000s, so the connection was really fun for me!

7. Same Soul - Another song pulled from my Timebomb playlist. This one is kinda meta. They’re in a different universe, literally, since this is an AU, so it’s like they’re meeting again in different bodies. But it also works in-universe, since they’re meeting again after so much has happened and they don’t recognize who they were to each other. Figuratively—but also, Ekko’s eyes are green now. Would your heart know if I met you in a brand-new set of bones? / …I’m just somebody that you used to know

Also just really love this one, particularly the chorus, and especially the one after the bridge. I also thought of it in connection to Powder's feelings about Vi and meeting her after her years in prison. There are places where I make it explicit that Powder's feelings about Ekko and Vi are interlinked in some ways (particularly the poem at the end of chapter 17). This also fits well with Powder's gradual realization of how different Ekko's life is and how he has different people in it, which comes out strongly in chapter 12.

8. Starboy - This song makes me think of Revolution-verse Ekko. He’s under so much pressure and has to present a particular image to be effective in a lonely, high-stakes role he doesn’t like to play. And from Powder’s perspective, he does certain things just to hurt [her]. Look what you’ve done / I’m a motherfuckin’ starboy

Ekko definitely plays mind games. It's one of the traits I pulled out of his Arcane portrayal and turned up to eleven to make an "antihero" version of him. The first verse of this song I feel like connects to that part of him, and the second connects to the part that is tired of the games that are part and parcel of the shimmer business and take up so much of his time to push back against, even if he dismisses them as uncreative (and even if that comes back to haunt him). Everything he does is pretty much calculated to keep that inner universe steady and keep his head on amongst all Silco's allies as he comes into that more... administrative role. And Powder does see him as having particular tools to hurt her because of their history, as well.

The mac and cheese is baked as it should be. It is Powder’s sole consolation in this stupid, awful world. She ought to be able to enjoy the scene in front of her, but she can’t. Every time she interacts with Ekko, she comes away feeling like trash. Their history gives him a unique ability to make her miserable, and she knows, somewhere deep in her bones, that Ekko isn’t going to let this lie. Their little peace is over, and as long as she keeps coming to the community center, she’ll likely have to prepare for battle on a regular basis.

9. Undo - Chapter 8, the argument on the bridge from Powder’s perspective. You've been pouring gasoline in your living room / Light a cigarette while you complain about the fumes / Who are you to talk? / …Oh, come on, just say something / No, go ahead, tell me, what do I need?

Some of these lyrics kind of parallel a song I am trying to advance as a timebomb song, "Percogesic" by Gallant. But I think the lyrics here— You're so shook when I look right past you So surprised you don't get an answer Guess no one told you, now I told you We're not living in the forties Ain't it weird to feel small 'n stuff? —connect very nicely to Powder not answering Ekko's question at the end of chapter 8, even though it doesn't surprise him. He will get an answer, just not directly, and that's the surprise! But the lyrics in general remind me of them, how Powder is unwilling to give him that power over her; even though Ekko's presence does make her upset, he's far from the only problem she has. As she says at the end of chapter 9, "...she will handle Ekko. But first, she has to handle herself."

10. < Coping Mechanism > - Powder lost a lot the night of the explosion, including Ekko—from her perspective, willingly—to Silco. She sees Ekko as an adversary, but it’s because she feels betrayed. Now that he’s back in her life, she’s forced to look at some ill-timed big feelings in chapter 9. I've wasted so much time / Hating myself for trying / ...Had your eyes locked on someone else / No, you couldn't help it / Or could you?

Somehow this playlist beat me to announcing my headcanon that revolution!Powder would be a Willow fan, haha. Their energies match in my head. Plus, bi solidarity! But anyway lol, the song mentions voices in her head, which is very relevant for chapter 9, and there's this sense that the lyrics are questioning whether the situation in the song is predestined or not. I also like these lyrics for them: Fun fact, I really wanna fuckin' make you cry It just isn't right, so enticing just like you Mastermindin' every fight Rivers flowin' from my eyes No emotion from your side Fun fact, I'm the worst, it's true Fun fact, I learned it all from you I need a coping mechanism now, every night

11. An Honest Mistake - Chapter 9. Powder’s Anniversary feelings catch up to her. My old friend / I swear I never meant for this / I never meant— / Don’t look at me that way / It was an honest mistake

Powder really does see the accident as an honest mistake (because it was!!!), and I haven't written it yet, but there's a reason Powder doesn't see Ekko's expression in the scene where he finds her mid-breakdown. She's assuming he's looking at her a certain way, and she doesn't even know. I love drama lmao

12. Our Own House - Chapter 12, the porch scene. Powder’s group becomes official. It’s the culmination of and launching pad for so many things in Powder’s life, and for Powder as a character. We built our own house, own house / With our hands over our hearts / And we swore on that day / That it’ll never fall apart

The porch scene!! It really solidifies Powder's friendships with her club, and it so much of the politics I've been trying to explore is about that "own house" building. There are a lot of things we can't change, but building solidarity with people around us and working to build something that will take better care of us than the current system does is certainly a place to start. This gets a nice theoretical resonance in a book I recently read for class, Olúfẹ́mi Táíwò's Elite Capture: How the Powerful Took Over Identity Politics (And Everything Else). The theory is doing a lot lol, but he advances it in the hopes of putting forward this idea he calls "constructive politics," which is about building new rooms and houses, as he puts it, where we can create more equal ways of relating to each other and the world. A tall order, but I like to dream big. He also talks about how Pedagogy of the Oppressed was used in the liberation struggles of Cape Verde and Guinea-Bissau, and that is just super fucking cool haha.

13. Zanies and Fools - Chapter 12. The porch scene is such a pivotal moment for Powder, it deserves two songs. It may sound corny, but together, anything really is possible. (This song is a real-life reminder of that truth for me and I get emotional nearly every time I listen to it.) This song also recounts how Chance the Rapper met his future wife and I’m not saying that’s Ekko and Powder but I’m not not saying it 👀 I'm so powerful every time I look at you / No memory of anything I couldn't do / …Everything will go right as it can / It's possible

It's true! If it weren't, there wouldn't be so much effort put into preventing solidarity on the part of the powers that be. If y'all will allow me a theoretical moment, there's this part in the Bible that says the wisdom of God runs contrary to people's wisdom, and I think that's interesting if we think of that in terms of how often we're told that humans are rationally selfish and human nature is greedy and violent and everything else. Acknowledging this is considered common sense, but we also know from practical experience that people are also often kind and generous, and we can choose to lean into that and cultivate it. Believing anything is possible is considered foolish, but how else do we change things, you know? Outside of the connection this could have to the porch scene itself, there's also a link to the way that Ekko sees Powder as constantly pushing what he thinks is possible, which is why she inspires him so much. They're so cute. Help lol

14. Montage - Chapter 13. Powder reminisces about the childhood she shared with Ekko. Tears soaked, we still make each other laugh / Fabricating a montage of our love / All the things we were gonna do fade away / We grew up and apart and we’re not the same

This one is a little funny to me just because it's so different from the song I chose to quote at the start. But it's a nice little flip side, because where I had a more... I almost wanna say cynical approach to that chapter, not necessarily in the content, but because I was the only person who knew where that moment would lead, it was almost like I was poking fun at it, but that's not how it is for Powder and Ekko. And she does make him laugh! That's how she gets through to him. The idea of the montage pairs really nicely with the play and the curtains that frame Powder's reminiscing in the chapter.

15. Let Me Down Easy - A song from Ekko’s perspective of chapter 13. Ekko expects Powder to tell him to fuck off forever when he offers, but it’s not what he wants. Despite how awful they’ve been to each other, despite expecting rejection, his care for her comes through. He holds her in higher esteem than she believes. I also like that the song mentions lemonade, a callback to the porch scene. It’s not a, a bad time, time spent with you / There’s cool lights and songs with good lyrics / We never have to talk again, whatever, up to you

Lol the lemonade needs to come back to tie things together in the plot. But this is a pretty good summary of where they are at this point. Ekko certainly doesn't think they'll be friends again, and he's willing to give Powder peace even if it means closing the door on the possibility that they could become close later. His care comes through, and he really doesn't expect the slightest bit of reciprocation, but Powder surprises him again (and gets ice cream for her troubles, lol).

16. Get Free - Another character song for Powder. I feel like this one could be Powder’s/this fic’s thesis statement: Not trying to get by / I’m trying to get free

I need Mereba to drop a new album because she keeps clowning us on instagram, and I have complained about this with a friend before lol. That said, I really think the title of the project this song (and "Black Truck," which gets quoted in chapter 25) comes from is really apt as well: The Jungle Is the Only Way Out. That phrase really sums up Powder's journey very well, and she really is trying to free herself from the structures that come more and more sharply into view as she applies herself to helping others and working towards change. And while this can be discouraging, she keeps pushing because she wants to be free. Very relatable feeling. Side note, I feel like "Sandstorm," another one of her songs featuring JID is a good timebomb song.

17. RICKY - An Ekko song. Particularly obvious in Chapter 16, at the hospital. “‘Catch more flies with honey than vinegar.’ Ekko scratches at his scalp. ‘But jealousy makes people do crazy things.’” His success doesn’t secure his safety. He has to deal with people he’d rather avoid or, at worst, would see him killed. But he’s successful because he takes wisdom from multiple—even contradicting—places, uses it the best he can, learns quickly, and doesn’t forget who he is. First they mockin', now they hoppin' / All on the wave 'cause they see me poppin' / Big-big-big large pockets, they start flockin' / Here's what I say when they ass keep knockin'

This is so funny to me lol. For reference, I quoted the title song from the ZUU album in chapter 6, and this is the track that follows it. There are a lot of themes (and I have a lot of feelings about Denzel's music, but this is not the time because otherwise we'll be here all day) about family and parenthood in Ekko's side of the story, so I think this is a good fit, even though it never occurred to me! He keeps things that belonged to his parents close and thinks about them often. Advice they've given him features in his inner monologue as well. But it's also true that people are trying to get things from him, and it's all catching up. (Chapter 16 also has a Denzel Curry song quoted in it, "Chrome Hearts" ft. Zacari and the Cold Blooded Soul Band; extra fun fact, I can rap this whole song lmao).

18. Dancing in a Daydream - Chapter 18. Ekko and Powder see each other at the club, on the balcony and dance floor respectively. This is, admittedly, the more angsty of the song options I had for this moment. I chose it because the lyrics describe a moment as temporary as the one they share. We've reached the palace but I'm betting that it won't last / Bright lights and mirror ball / We might be hurting but I'm ready for the free fall

It's fine if this is an angsty choice, because Powder's pretty angsty by the end of the chapter as she develops her plan to set things straight with Ekko, lol. The dream imagery of the chapter pairs nicely here. The song I picked for it is a pretty different vibe, and so is the song I could have picked but didn't think of in time, Kehlani's "Hate the Club," which is also a nice match. Between the three songs, you can choose your fighter lol. I like the name of this band, though. Fits the vibe, and me lol

19. Ego - Chapter 20. Ekko and Powder have a difficult conversation in Ekko’s hotel room. They’ve both been working on their egos, going by their ability to have one at all. (Thank you for recommending me this song forever ago, btw, it’s lovely.) Easy for me to care and you want me there / …I’m working on my ego

Y'ALL. This is my current favorite song. It has been since I first heard it. You gotta get like almost 4 minutes in before that switch comes in, but the strings and the bass... like it's truly magical. If you have headphones, I recommend using them. Done advertising lol. But that part at the end has nice lyrics for them too, as well as the beginning: Is that you, baby? Check when you're makin' no sense In this hotel bed Feels like, "What are we doin'?" Which is pretty on the nose lol, but I like it, and then toward the end: Don't wanna run Every time I get that feelin', I just rather be stuck Putting my favorite song at the most pivotal chapter, I'm emotional haha. The instrumental catharsis it provides matches the way the chapter is designed to build, too.

20. My Friend - By the end of chapter 20, Ekko and Powder clear the air. They reach a new understanding of each other. You’ve seen me from every side / Still down for the ride

These lyrics also capture part of why they work well as a couple; they work on most of their major issues before they even date, haha. On a more serious note, Powder really does get a real picture of what Ekko's dealing with, and to his surprise, she decides to stick by him and extend kindness. Just like in other situations throughout the story, Powder changes things by choosing to be understanding and kind. Perhaps it is cliche, but Powder/Jinx is a character who feels very deeply. I think it works.

21. Same Heart - You know I had to pick a song by Reed Shannon. This one has themes of reconnection while there’s action out in the streets. The moment Ekko and Powder part in chapter 21 feels like the start of something new, so I thought it fit. Baby, maybe we can do it again / Let’s restart, I’m your friend

In case you didn't know, Reed Shannon is Ekko's voice actor in the game AND in Arcane. As far as I know, he's the only voice actor from the game who reprised his role in Arcane. I love the 2000s r&b vibes on this one, very me. The fun thing is that Ekko realizes his feelings for Powder when he wakes up after the whole... hotel thing, and so there are a couple layers of meaning here. And it was just the night before that Scar was doing the stuff, so there was very much action in the streets! Really fun easter egg-type song to include.

22. Dirty - Caitlyn’s reveal in chapter 22 absolutely gets a song on this playlist. Full disclosure, I’m not convinced this is the one. But I like that it asks the question, “Do you love your neighbor?” because it has multiple meanings here: Piltover and Zaun are neighbor cities, and the rent strike is about helping your literal neighbors. And I like that some lyrics sound like they’re written by a schemer, like Caitlyn. I got a skeleton under the floorboard / I got a secret I need you to keep / …Aren't you fed up yet? / Do you have enough love in your heart / To go and get your hands dirty?

Caitlyn still has stuff up her sleeve in the plot! But she is very much a schemer, both in canon and the fic. Caitlyn's arc is very much about learning how the systems of exploitation that keep Piltover and Zaun in their places operate and using her influence to mess with that. Even if she doesn't get everything from the outset, she's determined to learn from Powder, and she's motivated by love, primarily for Vi, but also for the fellow people who are suffering under the name of the City of Progress.

23. Choose Me - Chapter 27, Powder and Vi’s fight. Powder is working hard to build a life she and Vi can be proud of, but they need different things. Vi doesn’t see what Powder does for Zaun and why, so Powder wonders how Vi can see her for who she is. How can Vi want her? I know there are places that I can't go with you / …I'd rather you choose me every day

OH BOY, there's a reason chapter 27's title has "tragedy" in it. Powder does want to be chosen by Vi, all of her, and not just the parts Vi understands. Vi's own trauma really does prevent her from seeing things from Powder's perspective. There are places she can't go because of how much pain they cause her, and while Powder's working on reaching out more, she wants the same from Vi. At the same time, Vi feels like Powder is choosing Zaun over her in a sense, so it works on both levels.

24. Call You Mine - Chapter 30. “Yeah, she decides later, lying in bed and looking up at the ceiling. She’s going to tell him.” Baby, can I call you mine, mine? / ‘Cause you're always in my mind, mind

This one is so hopeful! It's a big shift after the content of chapter 30, but Powder really is at that point where Ekko represents a bright spot in her life. They've been working to know each other better, and Powder's friends are cheering her on to go after something that would make her happy. It speaks to how sweet these two turned out to be in the fic, which was probably a surprise to everyone (including me lol, since it grew out of things I came up with as I was writing).

25. Hummingbird - Ekko and Powder steal moments when they can, resulting in long text convos and late-night phone calls. Pen pal on the night shift / She’s who I get away with / …And hummingbird, I know that’s our time / But stay on / Stay on, stay on with me / And hummingbird, I can never unsee / What you've shown me

The OG interlude! Even if it makes them both tired, they prioritize each other in those long convos and calls. You could almost imagine this playing in the background while the two of them are shown split-screen talking on the phone, lying in their beds.

26. Like 90s R&B - Ekko spends the night at Powder’s place and already she can’t wait to see him again. Feel like I was only seeking you, already got me feening for more / I spend all my time daydreaming, got me living for the weekend, oh no

I am an r&b girlie, what can I say. This one was a lot of fun! Powder really is in too deep, like the lyrics say. But so is Ekko, haha. I think the song will only fit more as they keep getting closer, getting frustrated with the things that make it so they can't be as open with their relationship as they'd want.

27. Offense - End of chapter 33. Powder announces herself to the wealthy of Piltover with her excellent award acceptance speech. Figured I should say some', but you don't wanna hear me vent / You can talk bad all day long, I will never be impressed / Dunno what I did to make you feel that you be earnin' my respect / …I said it with my chest and I don’t care who I offend, uh huh

Simz always has so much confidence in her music, haha. This song goes really nicely with the title of chapter 33, "polemics in free verse," which implies that Powder is attacking someone else's ideas through poetry. It really fits perfectly; Powder refuses to be taken in by the glitz and glamor, choosing instead to point out the people who make it all possible. All Power to the People indeed.

gif was sourced from here

#Spotify #revolution-verse #rosie's writing desk #arcane #fanfiction #arcane fanfiction #arcane fanfic #timebomb #ekkojinx #ekko arcane #jinx arcane #ekko jinx #LOOK AT IT #YAY #I LOVE MY FRIENDS

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