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spidernuggets · 5 months

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reader showing jason her plushie collection?

Jason Todd x Reader

"So, you don't think any of this is dumb?"

"Without a shadow of a doubt, sweetheart"

You didn't hear your front door open, though. You'd given your boyfriend, Jason, a spare key to your apartment for emergencies.

You were in your apartment, stuffing your face with chips, watching a movie on your laptop. You had your favourite stuffed animal wedged in between your arm and your cheek, laughing at the comedic one-liners that a character said.

In this case, you had your bedroom door locked because never in a million years would you show your boyfriend your plushie collection.

Most were animals, consisting of cows, bats, sharks, cats, dogs, and more. You had probably 2 or 3 Jellycat plushies, too.

Your most favourite plushie besides the animals was the small bodied, big headed Red Hood plush you found a while ago. You've seen so many Batman, Nightwing, and Robin merchandise, and you always sulked when you came to the conclusion there were no Red Hood merch.

So you took matters into your own hands.

Sure, the stitching and stuffing was a little messy, but you managed to create your own little Red Hood plushie that is currently sitting comfortably beside your laptop so it's easy to see.

Embarrassingly, you'd give it kisses here and there for nights that you worry that Jason might not come back for patrol. But luckily, he always does.

But once again, you'd never show Jason any of this. You're a grown ass adult, living your own life, you have your own place, a full-time job. Plus, your boyfriend is a 6 ft something, 200 pound something vigilante who busts crime and kicks ass.

Why the fuck would he want to date someone who owns thousands of plushies, plus their own homemade one. He'd probably be too embarrassed to be seen with someone like that.

You flinched when you heard a twist on your doorknob.

"Babe? You there?" Jason called out. You heard the slight panic in his voice. You didn't question it since the conversation both of you had about Jason always being paranoid that his occupation would lead you into danger while you're in a relationship with him.

You slammed your laptop shut, frantically looking at the plushies scattered all over your room. Shit.

"Uh- Yeah! Just a sec!" You yelled back, your voice cracking in the process.

You and Jason have been together long enough for him to know when you're panicking. He knocked again. "You okay in there, mama?"

You tripped over yourself, luckily not making much noise, as you shoved all your teddies and plushies and toys into your cramped, small closet, not having time to organise it neatly like usual.

"Yeah, yeah! Just kind of messy in here!" You say as you try to shut your closet.

You rushed to your door, unlocking it and smiling up to your boyfriend in front of you.

"Hi!" You quickly say, awkwardly leaning against your door frame.

"Hi to you too, sweetheart," he replies, looking sloghtly confused. "Why are you out of breath?"

"Oh- I.." You cleared your throat. "I didn't know you were coming over."

"Am I not allowed to?..." He asks, tilting his head to the side.

"You are! You are.. I just thought you'd be busy today."

Jason shrugged. "Hmm. So what were you doing before?"

Your shoulders relaxed as you steadied your breath. "Just watching a movie. Wanna continue with me?"

Jason smiled, kissing your forhead. "Of course, sweetheart."

As you steooed aside from the door to let Jason into your room, from the corner of your eye, you see your closet door slightly open, an ear of your bunny teddy sticking out a little bit.

As Jason went to go open your laptop, he follows your swift movements to shut your closet door.

"What was that?" He asked.

You turned to him as your eyebrows raised high in panic. "What was what?" You ask back quickly. "I was just... y'know.. closing my door. It's nothing, " you say with uncertainty.

"Babe..."

"Yeah?"

"You always have your eyebrows raised when you lie," Jason says, his voice turning monotone and serious.

Your eyebrows immediately go back down. "I- I'm not lying," you stuttered.

Jason walked towards you, stopping right in front of your closet. "Sweetheart? Can you open it up for me?" He asks, only hoping that he's being overdramatic and she has nothing to hide from him.

"Why?" You asked in a small, quiet voice.

"Well, why wouldn't you?"

"Well, there's nothing interesting in there so..."

"I thought we agreed, no secrets," Jason said, getting upset, his emotions starting to escalate. "What? Is there a guy in there?" He says, his insecurities getting the better of him. "You cheating on me? 's that why your door was locked? Why you were running around in here?" He quickly asks all at once.

Your eyes widen. "Jason!" You exclaimed. "I would never cheat on you! You know that!"

Jason takes a breath, calming down. "I... I know. 'm sorry- I'm sorry, baby, I know you wouldn't, I was just being stupid. Had a long day. Let's just watch your movie, hm?" He says, dragging himself across the room once more, sottomg on your bed, getting your movie ready.

You sighed. "No. Jason, you're right. We don't keep secrets," you say as Jason's head shoots up.

"No, no, no! I didn't mean 'it's true, I'm cheating on you', I meant..." You hesitated. You sighed once more before opening your closet, revealing the pile of plushies tumbling down to the ground.

Jason's eyebrows furrowed as he got up, inspecting the toys spread out in front of him. "What? What am I looking at? These things have drugs in them?" He asks.

You give him a confused look. "What? No. It's just my plushie collection," you claimed.

"And...?"

Both you and Jason were utterly confused.

Was he not shocked? Embarrassed at your collection?

Was this your big secret? A bunch of teddies?

"Is... Is it not stupid? Having a shit ton of plushies? Like... I'm a grown ass adult owning children's toys. You really wanna be dating someone that could bring down your... I don't know. Tough guy persona?" You ask.

And Jason laughs. "Sweetheart, what? It's not stupid. I have at least one teddy I kept since I was a kid back in the manor. And I'm sure Dick has more than you," he steps closer to you, cradling your face in his large hands, placing a kiss on your forhead. "And they seem that much to you too. Wanna introduce me to some of them?"

And that question got you eyes twinkling. You're sure you saw heaven. And Jason couldn't help but smile at your excited reaction.

So you started picking up some of your plushies, introducing them to Jason.

You were both sitting on your bed as you described how you fell in love with an octopus plushie at a charity shop until something caught the corner of Jason's eye.

"Oh my god..." he lowly says.

"What?" You ask, suddenly curious.

Jason gets up and heads to you pile of plushies, picking up the clumsily stitched Red Hood toy of him. Your face flushed in embarrassment.

"Do not!... say anything. Don't let it get to your ego, okay? No stores had any Red Hood merchandise..." You pathetically say.

Jason chuckles as he goes over to you, planting a gentle peck on your cheek. "It's cute. You're cute," he says, his index finger under your chin, moving your face towards his as he kisses your lips.

"So you don't think any of this is dumb?" You ask as you break the kiss.

UGHHh thank you for this request, Anon 🙏 This request made me haooy seeing as i have a small plushie collection of my own!!

Jason smiles. "Without a shadow of a doubt, sweetheart," he says as he pulls you in for anotber tender kiss.

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feminist-space · 2 years

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"Yes, you read that right: Chicago is spending $33 million to build fake housing and commercial buildings in an overpoliced community that could really use their actual, real-life equivalents. No Cop Academy organizer Destiny Ball laid it out plainly to Block Club Chicago: “To find out that they’re building a scenario village when there are thousands of people, homeless, with nowhere to go … it’s sickening.”

Architecture sometimes lays bare the contradictions in urban life, but rarely does it do so this explicitly, if not mockingly. A first phase of the training campus is nearly done, and the “tactical village” will begin construction this summer. The campus, which rises on the site of a former rail yard, will replace seven facilities currently in use. The second phase will be built by a joint venture of Berglund and Brown & Momen. The City’s website lists the design architect as DLR Group. The company recently published a blog post in which Andrew Cupples defended its work on juvenile justice systems, claiming that DLR remains “undeterred in the belief that design excellence contributes to better outcomes for youth who enter the justice system.”

“Justice system,” to this critic, reads as a remarkable euphemism for a place to detain children. Incredibly, the City lists the project as part of Mayor Lori Lightfoot’s INVEST South/West platform which seeks to direct about $1.4 billion in funding to previously underdeveloped neighborhoods.

The City neglects its citizens—especially its Black and Brown ones—before policing them with militarized tactics. This is, after all, the police force that was found to be using “black site” tactics—essentially kidnapping and torturing civilians at Homan Square, a property it owned on the West Side—until an exposé in The Guardian in 2015 spelled its demise. This is the police force whose officers shot 13-year-old Adam Toledo to death in 2021 and paralyzed another unidentified 13-year-old boy just a few weeks ago. These are the law enforcement officers who have made arrests in only 6 percent of rape cases. Per Alex Vitale’s book The End of Policing, this is the police department that arrested 8,000 Black schoolchildren, more than half of whom were under 15, in 2013–14 alone.

Chicago suppresses funding for housing, schools, environmental remediation, public health, and transit, but it generously funds cops. This is not only ineffective, given the statistics and reality of police brutality, but immoral.

Any architect who participates in realizing the carceral program of police surveillance and terror is complicit. Architects often characterize their work as impartial, but the reality is that the form of the built environment is regularly weaponized by those in power. Architects are moral actors who have the agency—individually, but especially collectively—to see a project like this and decline to participate.

At times, activism comes in the form of saying yes to certain advances, but in this case it more powerfully comes in saying no. This denial of service can come in the form of whistleblowing to journalists, organizing political resistance among your peers, or finding a new job. After George Floyd’s murder in 2020, when Michael Ford (the hip-hop architect) learned that his then employer SmithGroup was to work on civic buildings with holding facilities, he left. In the fall of 2020, AIA New York attempted to discourage members from working on spaces of incarceration. The work of Colloqate explicitly demands the end of architects working on behalf of police and provides alternative solutions for reallocating police funds toward endeavors rooted in community building and racial justice.

Architecture exists at the all-important nexus where political ambition is given form. Resistance to terrible carceral projects from architectural firms matters—if no one draws the plans, the efforts stall. Sure, someone else can do it, but the broad systemic woes of capitalism don’t excuse us—mere individuals—from living ethical lives. It is unethical to work on a project that will be used to oppress and terrify Chicagoans, just as it is a project of criticism to be explicit about architecture’s role in surveillance, police expansion, and, by extension, urban policies that govern by force, not by support. So, to the leaders of architecture offices who are currently overseeing construction documents for a fake strip club in western Chicago, I see you. The architecture world sees you. You can and should do better than this."

-Kate Wagner is an architecture critic and a journalist.

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fdelopera · 16 days

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Never Again is NOW

This evening marks the beginning of Yom HaShoah. This Jewish holiday and Holocaust Remembrance Day marks the anniversary of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising.

Yom HaShoah is different than International Holocaust Remembrance Day. On International Holocaust Remembrance Day, we mourn the 6 million Jews, as well as the Romani and all the others who were systematically slaughtered by the Nazis during World War II.

Yom HaShoah is the day for Jews mourn our dead and to remember the Jews who heroically fought back against the Nazis in the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising. We mourn the 6 million Jews who were murdered the LAST time the entire world was infected by the mind-virus of Jew-hate.

In the midst of this current global tidal wave of Jew-hate, we Jews say NEVER AGAIN. Never again is NOW.

youtube

And a reminder to non-Jews who might try to steal this phrase:

Never Again is a Jewish phrase. Period. It doesn’t belong to non-Jews.

Never Again refers to the Shoah, and to the THOUSANDS of years of violent Jew-hatred we have endured before then.

Never Again states that we Jews will NEVER AGAIN be slaughtered by the millions.

If you are a goy, and you use this phrase for any other purpose, you are engaging in cultural appropriation.

You are appropriating Jewish trauma and pain that IS NOT YOURS.

Unless you are willing to shoulder the burden of 3500+ years of Jewish history, you do NOT get to use this phrase.

If you steal Never Again for any other context, all you are doing is broadcasting that you are a Jew-hating bigot who engages in Holocaust Inversion.

And you can take your antisemitic bigotry and go fuck off into the sun.

Baruch ata Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha-olam, borei p’ri hagafen.

Baruch ata Adonai, Eloheinu melech ha-olam, asher kid’shanu b’mitzvotav v’ratza vanu, v’shabbat kod’sho b’ahava uv’ratzon hinchilanu, zikaron l’ma’aseh b’reishit. Ki hu yom t’chila l’mikra-ay kodesh, zaycher l’tziat mitzrayim. Ki vanu vacharta v’otanu kidashta mikol ha’amim. V’shabbat kod-shi-cha b’ahava uv’ratzon hinchal tanu. Baruch ata Adonai, mi’kadesh ha Shabbat.

(Blessed are you, Lord our G-d, Ruler of the Universe, who creates the fruit of the vine.

Blessed are you, Lord our G-d, Ruler of the Universe, how has sanctified us with his commandments and favored us, and given us in love and favor his holy Shabbat as an inheritance, as a remembrance of the act of creation. For this day is the beginning of all holy days, a remembrance of the Exodus from Egypt. For you have chosen us and you have blessed us from among all the nations. And you have bequeathed us your holy Shabbat in love and favor. Blessed are you, Lord, who sanctifies Shabbat.)

Feel this, to all those races, colors, and creeds, every man bleeds

For the countless victims and all the families of the murdered, tortured, enslaved

Raped, robbed and persecuted — Never Again

To the men, women, and children who died in their struggle to live

Never to be forgotten, Reuven Ben Menachem, yo…

My own blood dragged through the mud

Perished in my heart, still cherished and loved

Stripped of our pride, everything we lived for

Families cried, there's nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide

Tossed to the side, access denied

6 million died, for what?

Yo, a man shot dead in his back

Helpless women and children under constant attack

For no reason 'til the next season and we still bleeding

Yo it's freezing and men burn in Hell, some for squeezing

No hope for a remedy, nothing to believe

Moving targets who walk with the star on their sleeve

Forever marked with a number tattooed to your body

Late night, eyes closed, clutched to my shotty

Having visions, flashes of death camps and prisons

No provisions, deceived by the Devil's decisions

Forced into a slave, death before dishonor

For those men who were brave, shot and sent to their grave

Can't awaken, it's too late, everything's been taken

I'm shaken, family, history in the making

Never again shall we march like sheep to the slaughter

Never again shall we sit and take orders

Stripped of our culture, robbed of our name

Raped of our freedom and thrown into the flames

Forced from our families, taken from our homes

Removed from our G-d then burned of our bones

Never again, never again, shall we march like sheep to the slaughter

Never again leave our sons and daughters

Stripped of our culture, robbed of our name

(Never again) Raped of our freedom and thrown into the flames

Forced from our families, taken from our homes

Removed from our G-d and everything we own (Never again)

Some fled through the rumors of wars

But most left for dead, few escaped to the shores

With just one loaf of bread, banished

Called in for questioning and vanished, never to be seen again

I can't express the pain, that was felt in the train

To Auschwitz, tears poured down like rain

Naked, face to face with the master race

Hatred, blood, and David, my heart belongs to God and stays sacred

Rabbis and priests, disabled individuals

The poor, the scholars — all labeled common criminals

Mass extermination, total annihilation

Shipped into the ghetto and prepared for liquidation

Tortured and starved, innocent experiments

Stripped down and carved up or gassed to death

The last hour, I smelled the flowers

Flashbacks of family then sent to the showers

Powerless, undressed, women with babies clumped tight to their chest — crying

Who would've guessed — dying

Another life lost, count the cost

Another body gas-burned and tossed in the Holocaust

Never again shall we march like sheep to the slaughter

Never again leave our sons and daughters

Stripped of our culture, robbed of our name

Raped of our freedom and thrown into the flames

Forced from our families, taken from our homes

Removed from our G-d and everything we own

Never again, never again, shall we march like sheep to the slaughter

Never again shall we sit and take orders

Stripped of our culture, robbed of our name

(Never again) Raped of our freedom and thrown into the flames

Forced from our families, taken from our homes

Removed from our G-d then burned of our bones (Never again)

Never Again. Never Again.

From the USA to Afghanistan

From Israel to Pakistan

From Iraq to Iran

To Russia, Poland, and France

From China over to Japan

Worldwide

Never Again

Shema Yisrael Adonai eloheinu Adonai ehad

(“Hear O Yisrael, the Lord is our G-d, the Lord is One.” The Shema is the most important prayer in Judaism. It is the declaration of our faith in one G-d. Jews say the Shema prayer every day, in the morning and evening. And we also say the Shema before we die.)

FIRE!

*GUNSHOT*

#jumblr #jewish history #yom hashoah #warsaw ghetto uprising #never again #never forget #never again is now #NOTE: I report and block antisemites. If any antisemites comment on this post you will be reported and blocked. You have been warned.#Youtube

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a-998h · 3 months

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Each nations festivals for the Creator.

Mondstadt

It is known as The Ventus Dies Natalis (Latin: The Winds Birthday Festival).

Time of year: Spring

How long it lasts: weeks/ 14 days

Origins: The people of old Mondstadt wanted to honor the creation of the winds. Do to this they planned a festival that at first was a serious religious affair that lasted for a week, before it became a 2 week festival.

Traditions week by week

Week 1

Day 1: The people go to the cathedral plaza or inside the cathedral for prayer and to present offerings of Calla Lillies, Snapdragons, Dandelion Wine,and Fruits of the Festival, Mint Jelly, Moon Pie, and Northern Apple Stew.

Day 2: A tournament between the kinghts is held from sunrise untill noon. Once the final round has ended, the winner is given a crown of Calla Lillies, Snapdragons, and being honored with the title of Ventus Fortitudinis (Latin: Wind of Strength). The winner is beilved to be blessed with good fortune for as long as they retain the title, the current title holder is Bennett for two years in a row.

Day 3: A tournament is held between Mondstadt's archers from noon to sunset. The winner gains the title of Sagittarius Ventus (Latin: Archer of the wind) along with a Calla Lilly and Sanpdragon flower crown. The winner is beilved to be blessed with good fortune for as long as they retain the title, the current title holder is Amber for four years in a row.

Day 4: From sunset to midnight a contest for bards is held and the winner gains the title of Vates Ventus (Latin: Bard of the wind). The winner is beilved to be blessed with good fortune for as long as they retain the title, the current title holder is Venti for six years.

Day 5: The three winners throw a ball, similar to the Ludi Harpastum games, but these balls have two flower crowns on each ball. The three winners throw the balls and those who cath any of the balls and gain one of the six flowers crowns is believed to share in the original winners good fortune. After this the people good to play games, eat, and drink.

Day 6: This day is most for prayers to local shrines or at the cathedral.

Day 7: People go and either, buy of pick Calla Lillies and Snapdragons and spend time making flower crowns for their friends, fammily, or lovers. A large feast is had and people gift the flower crowns they made to each other.

Week 2

Day 1: People return to the Cathedral area for another prayer and this time no offerings are put at the statue offering table.

Day 2: Those who are willing with travel out to the separate shrine near the Thousand Winds Temple in order to deliver written prayers of the people.

Day 3: In cetian locations in the more rual areas will have games set up, like wind glider races.

Day 4: This is a day with many bards who share their poems, song, and stories with people in the plaza during one act performances that last from noon until sunset. Once the sun sets, people will spend their night drinking and eating.

Day 5: This is another rest day.

Day 6: drunken partying with lots of food.

Day 7: people gather around campfires or fire places and tell stories.

Week 3

Day 1: The church choir sing a few songs to start off the final festival week.

Day 2: The petals of Snapdragons and Calla Lillies are picked from the flower and case to the wind carrying prayers, often down by those who do not wish to write their prayers.

Day 3, Day 4, Day 5, Day 6: drinking, feasting and games.

Day 7: The people all blow on dandelions, making wishes as the fluff blows in the wind. A large feast like at the beginning of the festival is held in oder to cap off the festival itself.

Liyue

The Creator has been celebrated on Lantern Rite on few occasions.

The Creator has a festival of their own called Lóngfèng jié (Chinese: Dragon and phoenix festival).

Time of year: Spring

How long it lasts: 15 days/ 1 week and a day

Origins: When the adepti roamed the land along side humans, they saw how the humans would worship the Creator on the same days of worship for Rex Lapis. Once he was told, Rex Lapis said that the people shall have a festival for only the Creator every spring for 10 days before it became strethed to 15 days over the centuries. The times during Lantern Rite where the Creator was worshipped, happened during times where the spring was to rainy and dark for the typical festival.

Day 1: The citizens gather at their nearest shrine and present offerings of Snapdragons, Violetgrass, Lotus Flower Crisp, Stir-Fried Shrimp, and Stone Harbor Delicacies. This happens after the people say a prayer for good fortune.

Day 2: a parade is held with a dragon and phoenix being made to look like it is dancing by being controlled by a team of performers.

Day 3: There are kite design contests for both children and adults. Once the designing is done, there is a contest for who's kite can go the highest and farthest.

Day 4: A feast is held to honor the Creator's role in making the Archons.

Day 5: The Liyue Opera puts on a performance of the Creators brith from the stars and Celestia.

Day 6: Bouquets of Violetgrass and Snapdragons are traded between those who are close.

Day 7: People place a Snapdragon or Violetgrass flower into the sea as a prayer for good fortune.

Day 8: The shrines are decorated with Snapdragon Violetgree garland and only drink offerings are placed this day.

Day 9: A feast is held to celebrate the Creator's role of making the adepti.

Day 10: The Liyue Opera puts on a performance about how the Creator made the Archons, adepti, and humanity.

Day 11: Prayers are written onto pieces of paper and are then burned, they believe the smoke carried the prayers upto Celestia for the Creator to grant.

Day 12: A contest is held for who can make the best sculpture of the Creator from sunrise to noon. The winner is given the title of Shítou yìshùjiā (Chinese: Artist of stone) and the current title holder is Madam Ping. From noon till dusk a tournament is held to see who is the strongest fighter, it was used to see who would be a good guardian to the Creator, the winner gets the title of Fènghuáng wèishì (Chinese: Protector of the Phoenix), current title holder is Gaming. From dusk till sunset a contest held to test who would be a good advisor for the Creator, the winning title is Míngxīng gùwèn (Chinese: Advisor of the Stars) current title holder is Xingqiu.

Day 13: People tell smaller stories and myths about the Creators interaction with Liyue's archon and adepti at home or on stage.

Day 14: A final feast is held for the Creator's role in making humanity and everything on the mortal world.

Day 15: The Liyue Opera puts on a performance on the death and rebirth of the Creator. Kites with prayers and wishes written on them will be released as the streets are lit with lanterns.

Inazuma

The festival is called Hana-shin matsuri (Japanese: The flower god festival).

Time of year: Summer

How long it lasts: 10 days

Origins: The yokai started holding a small festival to thank the Creator for giving them life. When yokai and humanity became friends, the yokai shared some of the traditions with humans while making sure they were followed and done properly. Eventually the festival became a common part of life in Inazuma. It became even more important when the arachons of Inazuma were seen in public for the festival.

Day 1: A prayer service is held at Grand Narukami shirne in which special incense are burned and offerings of Dendrobium, Sakura, Sakura Mochi, Sakura Shrimp Crackers, and Tri-colored Dango.

Day 2: Kabuki theaters put on performances that tell important myths about the Creator, similar to the Liyue Opera.

Day 3: Sangonomiya shrine holds a prayer services with the same offerings as the first prayer day.

Day 4: A parade with floats moves through the streets of Inazuma city. Each float follows a set theme for the festival that year.

Day 5: The samurai and Inazuman warriors hold a contest of strength and skill. The winner gets the title of Hoshi no senshi, current title holder is Kujo Sara.

Day 6: Onikabuto trading, collecting and fighting amounts children is seen as a way for them to test their strength, Itto is still trying to win.

Day 7 and Day 8: Are the rest days untill the evening, in which there is a large feast.

Day 9: Sakura and Dendrobium flowers are put floating into the sea and a way of wishing or prayer.

Day 10: Fireworks are fired into the sky as way to end the festival.

Sumeru

This is known as Laghayati Parvan (Sanskrit: Color Festival).

Time of year: Summer

How long it lasts: 7 days

Origins: The people of Sumeru believed that since they were closest to nature, that they were closer to the Creator. They treat this time of year like a 7 day funeral service as it is believed that the Creator drew their last in the Avidya Forest, however it has become more light hearted in the last 20 years.

Day 1: People clean their homes and the nearest shrine before leaving offerings of Sumeru Rose, Mourning Flower, Padisarah Pudding and Baklava along with prayers.

Day 2: People get markings on their body in symbolic patterns using an ink made with Henna berries.

Day 3: The people lights bonfires to tell stories about the Creator and Greater Lord Rukkhadevata. People in Sumeru ship them.

Day 4: People adorn their homes and local shrines with flower garlands and lanterns.

Day 5: People throw colored powder made with Henna berries at each other and decorate their homes and shrines with it.

Day 6: The colored Henna Berry powder is thrown as a welcoming gesture for the Creator.

Day 7: A clean up of all the colorful powder from the streets and buildings.

Fontaine

This is the Dieu créateur Carnival. (Fench: Creator gods carnival.)

Time of year: Late winter/early spring

How long it lasts: 7 days

Origins: It started as a way for devoted worshipers of the Creator to mark the end of their fasting period. Fontaine kept it like this for the whole time untill Furina became archon. Furina thought the Creator deserved a more fun and colorful celebration.

Day 1: Rainbow Roses and Romartime bouquets are gifted to shrines as offerings along with Fruity Trio and Fontaine Aspic.

Day 2: An 18 float parade goes through the streets lead by the king, queen, and carnivalon on floats. These floats are offer followed with performers from all nations.

Day 3: Another parade during those in costume on the floats throw up to 10,000 flowers into the crowd. During this time boquets of Rainbow Roses and Romartimes are exchanged between lovers, it is believed to bless the relationship with years of good luck so long as the partners are together. This parade is called the défilé de fleurs (French: flower parade).

Day 4: This is a repeat of the parade on day 2 expect the floats are decorated with lights of various colors. Known as Défilé de lumières (French: Parade of lights).

Day 5: On this night, people par take in games and drunken fun while dressed in costumes and masks.

Day 6: This is a day full of performances all having a common theme of myths about the Creator.

Day 7: The days in which people clean up from the weeks events of chaos and fun.

Currently all nations are either starting or preparing a festival to welcome the Creator back to Teyvat. I will explore these a bit more in the main plot line.

#genshin fanfic #cult au #sagau #creator!reader #sagau lore #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #this took sooooo long #I did research on irl festivals for this

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wood-white-writer · 6 months

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"Didn't mean to make your heart Blue" || [8/...]

— OPLA! Buggy x F!Reader

"My love is mine, all mine. I love, my, my, mine. Nothing in the world belongs to me but my love,"

— Mitski, "My Love Mine All Mine"

Pairing: Buggy the Clown (Live Action) x F!Reader

Summary: You were an apprentice of Gol D. Roger’s crew in your youth, long before his eventual demise. Along with the Red-Haired Shanks and Buggy, you were a formidable trio; the embodiment of a new generation of pirates yet to come. But times changed, and so did you and your friends. Buggy, desperate for your attention, can't help but think about what led to this situation.

Warnings: fem!reader, LA!Verse, slight canon divergence, morally grey reader, depiction of blood and wounds, DIY suturing, slight alcoholic indulgence, Buggy realizing he's fucked up big time

Buggy recalls the first time he caught your smile.

It had been several months since the Captain introduced you to the crew. Despite the sorry state you were in at the time of your debut, your eyes were so bright even back then, as though illuminated by something internal.

He’s heard about fish glowing in the dark even when in the deep depths of the ocean, thousands of miles out of the light, and they require nothing but themselves to keep the light on.

He wondered if you’re like that. You didn’t look like a fish, nor did you remind him of any fish people he had encountered; too pretty and earthbound but glowing all the same.

Glowing, but dull. A knife that's not been polished for long, but still being used as intended.

Everything about you, how you walked and moved, all the way down to how you blinked, felt placid and stale from his perspective. He himself was an expressive man, never denying himself the capacity to show how he felt, so to witness it from you felt like a foreign sight.

You didn’t smile, nor show much of anything really. No sadness, anger, or joy. Just a blank canvas without any colors.

He compared you to a doll; a mannequin having come to life from behind a display case, breathing and blinking and moving, yet maintaining its lifeless nature all the same. You were strong, exceedingly so, and you followed orders without question or complaint. Like a machine working on auto.

He wondered whether you had been a slave or some kind of child soldier before Rogers found you. You must have been because no one becomes this … this … cold of their own volition.

He found that your apparent incapacity to live annoyed him, and so he set out to change it. He didn’t know why, but he just had to.

Quite frankly, he didn’t know what he said or did. Maybe he told some silly joke, the kind his crew mates usually smacked him in the back of the head for due to its cheesiness, but you smiled.

The image of that remains stuck in his head like a stain that won’t wash off. He remembers everything about that moment. The way you wore your hair, with a singular braid on the right side of your face. Asymmetrical and messy, yet you made it look just right.

He remembers the way the gray sky parted just in time for a ray of sunlight to shine across the deck, further illuminating your face. It was like the heavens above decided to put a spotlight on you.

He recalls the way your eyes glistened in the sun.

He remembers it all.

Maybe that’s when it first began? This … thing that’s been gnawing at him for so long? This feeling that won’t leave him in peace, even in his sleep. It tugs at his chest, pinches his stomach, itches his skin, and warms his face.

This feeling that’s been clawing at him in the twenty years you were parted.

The source of that feeling that’s currently looking at him from across the room.

His eyes light up like fireworks upon seeing you enter the kitchen area. “Hey! Look who it ...—!" The moment he sees the state you're in, whatever words were about to exit subsequently fall dead on his tongue. "— ... is."

You look like shit, mildly put. He's never seen you look as terrible before save for the time you first joined Rogers’ crew, and it feels like he’s back there again.

Back to sitting on the sidelines as the Captain procured you from under his oversized coat; a kid who looked smaller than she really was, now with a fresh bruise in development across your cheek, sunken eyes, and a pale complexion to your skin that wasn't there before.

You're leaning onto Rubber Boy like he's your only lifeline from falling headfirst into the floor, and upon squinting his eyes, Buggy notices the edge of a bandage peeking out from under your shirt, with a drop of blood staining the material.

In all the time Buggy's known you, he's only seen you bleed maybe once or twice. It was a rare occurrence; no blade could pierce your skin, nor daggers or swords. Your hide was impenetrable, like molten armor in the flesh. Arlong really did a number on you. He couldn't see much during the time he was stuck in that God-awful bag, but by the sounds of it, it was not a fight you were winning. He always held onto the notion that you were unbeatable; unbroken. Nothing could hope to harm you.

However, this diluted image of you he’s presented with confirms the opposite. You’re not invincible. You’re human. Faster, stronger, indefinitely more dangerous than the rest if your track record is anything to go by, but still bitterly human to the core.

When he led Arlong to Baratie, he thought you'd be able to finish the fucker off without a struggle. He'd watch the spectacle from the front rows, popcorn in his metaphorical hands while cheering you on from the sidelines.

Now, seeing you like this, like you've just walked through hell and back, he can't help but acknowledge the fact that he did this to you. He led Arlong to you.

He swallows the lump in his throat and stores the guilt away for another day.

Your eyes finally meet, for the first time since Orange Town, and he can see the confusion in your eyes. The hesitation that gradually morphs into the anger that he's become acquainted with as of late. You promptly yank yourself free from Luffy, stomp over to the table with uneven and unsteady steps that threaten to topple you over, and finally slam both of your hands on each side of Buggy's head.

The table cracks lightly under your grip, sending several splinters flying in every direction. Buggy gulps nervously.

"H-Heya, doll," he tries, but the darkness over your eyes leaves no room for sugarcoated words. They never did.

"Luffy," you say calmly while never taking your eyes away from the clown's, unbridled rage simmering in their depths despite your compromised state. "Why is he here?"

"About that ..." Luffy sheepishly scratches the back of his head. "He's the only one who knows the way to Arlong Park."

"To Arlong P— … " Your nails leave crescent-shaped holes in the soft tablecloth, and you glance at Luffy from over your shoulder, looking far more tired after seeing Buggy for ten seconds than you did beforehand. "And you're sure there'sno other way of getting there?"

"Nope!" Buggy interjects with a prominent pop!, hoping to catch your attention again. "He was real secretive about where his little fish-mancave's located. Lucky for you, I memorized the way back to my body!"

He's disappointed that you won't turn to even acknowledge his contributions to the conversation. You won't look at him again, and he discovers that he can't bear it.

Please look at me!

But you don't.

The silence is suffocating until you push yourself from your table, and he notices the way you cradle the side of your stomach while doing so. A silent hiss leaves your lips that he would've been unable to catch onto had he not been so focused on your reactions.

You look at Luffy, your back turned to Buggy, and limp over to the pathetic captain. Buggy predicts you’re about to shout at him, tell him the stupidity of this decision, and maybe even smack him across the face for emphasis. He hopes you will; the kid needs to have his ass kicked a few times to compensate for the humiliation the clown suffered at his hands.

To his bitter disappointment, you don’t commit yourself to any of the aforementioned. Really, not even a smack? Instead, all you do is heave an exhausted sigh before you prepare to exit the kitchens. "It's your decision," you say, and that's all you say before Buggy has to suffer your absence again.

———

It's the bounty hunter's turn to keep watch over him tonight, and Buggy, for one, would rather prefer to get tossed into the ocean than suffer like this.

He finds that this asshole is the worst one among the bunch to be keeping an eye on him. While the waiter and the long-nosed idiot would rather ignore him and leave him be, Moss-hairs over there seems like he has it out for him the most. Maybe it has to do with the fact that he almost killed him, but hey, all is fair in piracy?

"YAH!" Buggy shrieks when the asshole yanks him by the scruff of his hair with an iron grip, pulling out several blue hair strands while doing so. "CAREFUL WITH THE HAIR, SHITHEAD!"

"Shut up."

He can only hang when Zoro takes him inside to the kitchens, where the pretty-boy with the blonde hair is already cooking something up. Even before they entered the threshold to the kitchen, Buggy could hear your voice. You were talking to the blonde, and judging by the lightness in your tone, you were at ease enough not to be spiteful.

Buggy feels himself become annoyed, and not even the smell of food can tame it regardless of how hungry he is.

"Also, you should stitch up that wound soon," says the blonde, his voice growing more audible the closer they get to the kitchen. "Wouldn't want it to get infected."

"I'll handle it," you say in turn. "Wouldn't be the first time I've had to do something like this."

"You know, if you want to, I can lend you my hands. I'm told I have quite dexterous fingers, molded for delicate work."

"I'll pass, thank you."

"As you wish, but my offer is still on the table should you have a change of heart."

Buggy doesn't even know the guy, and he already wants to drown him. Whatever hunger occupied his stomach miles away with the rest of his body gets promptly replaced with something far sharper. Far uglier. It has teeth long enough to bite through flesh, claws that can tear open flesh, and it’s starving.

They finally enter the kitchen area, and whatever conversation previously took place shifts into silence upon their entrance.Buggy grins as he meets your eyes. "What's tonight’s specials?" he asks, hoping you'll actually respond with something this time, regardless of how sardonic it is.

He wouldn’t mind it if it’s something along the lines of “Fuck you” or “Eat shit” or “I hope you die, asshole.” It only has to be something, but it seems that even that is too high of a criterion for you to bother with.

You merely get up to your feet, unsteadiness painting your steps, and try to excuse yourself from the room without as much as a look his way.

For the duration of his uncomfortable stay with these shitty nobodies, Buggy's main priority aside from navigating this useless crew and getting his body back is your attention.

However, whenever someone — whether it be that shitty cook or the bounty hunter or the slingshot — brings him someplace where you coincidentally happen to be, you excuse yourself from their company and go someplace else.

He finds it more torturous than the bounty hunter's hold on him. It's been like this for the past two days. You won’t talk to him, won’t look at him, you won’t even acknowledge him even when he’s being the loudest head in the room.

Sure, he can piss off the rest of the bunch without even trying, but no matter how much he tries to catch your ire, you don’t take the bite.

The string that’s been dangling him above the water is just about ready to snap at this point.

"Hold up," Zoro says and proceeds to hold up Buggy's head for you, ignoring the string of curses that flow from his lips. "I want to eat my dinner in peace, so you take him."

Your face, while blank, cannot disguise the irritation laced in your words. "Give him to Ussop."

"He's on watch duty tonight,"

"Sanji?"

"My fine lady, as much as I'd desire to ease your woes, I'm currently preoccupied with preparing the meals." The blonde raises his pan for emphasis. "I would have lent you my aid, do not doubt that."

You’re not convinced. "… Right." Your eyes finally settle down to Buggy, and with great reluctance on your part, you slowly raise your hands up to take him.

Zoro smirks and deposits the clown into your hands. The absence of pressure at the top of his head is a welcomed reprieve. Your hold — while firmer around his cheeks than he'd prefer — is not uncomfortable per se. At least, not in comparison to your other crew mates.

He considers this a win. It's been far too long since he's been granted your touch, the last time being when you bid him a bitter goodbye back in Orange Town.

"Also," you say to Zoro. "I need a bottle of rum and a rag."

The swordsman tilts his head skeptically to the side. "Haven't you had enough to drink?"

"I need it to sterilize the sewing equipment."

Realization dawns on his face and Zoro relents. He hands you a bottle of rum from the kitchen cabinet, and after thanking him, you make your way to your cabins with the bottle in one hand whereas Buggy rests in the crook of your other elbow.

The walk is excruciatingly quiet, only the sound of your feet making any noise. It's deafening, and he can't stand it. He needs noise, preferably from you, but he doesn’t mind being the instigator.

"... So," he begins. "You know how to stitch yourself?"

You don't answer, and when he peeks up at you, your eyes are solely aimed at the path ahead.

"You gotta have the right technique," he continues, a little more energized. "Or it'll become an ugly scar. I can help you with it, I'm a pretty good seamster if I do say so myself."

Again, you don't dignify him with a response. He bites his cheek. Fuck, this is getting tiresome.

He looks up at you again, and he notices just how different you've become from when you were younger. Your eyes were bright, but your smile was even brighter. You'd happily chat with him for hours and hours on end without ever growing bored of the conversation. You'd joke, you'd playfully hit him (though your definition of 'playful' usually had him stumbling in his steps), and you'd smile.

Now, your eyes are dark, and sunken, and there are several wrinkles in development; not from age alone, but simple exhaustion. The years have truly changed you, and the itch nagging him at the back of his head reminds him that it's partially his fault.

He decides to shut up until you reach your cabin.

Your place, he discovers, is vaguely minimalistic at best. You have the basics: a hammock in the far corner, a chair with a small table next to it, a barrel serving as both a nightstand as well as what he assumes to be a storage space of sorts, and a lantern on the top that's already been lit.

You close the door behind you and head for the table. He expects you to all but pummel him down on it, like your crew mates, maybe even drop him altogether for the heck of it. He braces himself for impact and shuts his eyes when you raise your hands.

To his surprise, you simply put him down on top of it without any unnecessary pressure or force. He feels the wooden surface under his neck without any discomfort, and he can't help but notice that you've deliberately positioned his face towards the window.

He tries to plop around, like a fish out of water, but your hands - a little tighter around him this time - retract his movement. "Hey, what gives?!”

He doesn’t know why he’s even bothering to ask, already knowing that you're probably not going to answer.

To his surprise, you actually do this time.

"Don't look." Despite the sharp enunciation of your voice, the one he's been aching to hear for the past two days, it sounds hushed.

Not wanting to piss you off in case you decide to completely ignore him again, now that he's regained a smidgen of your notice, Buggy complies and elects to stare out of the window in spite of the desperate need to remain focused on you.

However, Buggy's never been one to completely follow the rules, so he decides to bend them. The window provides him a half-measured view of you in its reflection, with the dark waves serving as an addition to your image. A beautiful addition at that.

How sad is it that this is the only way he can look at you now?

He listens and watches as you put the liquor bottle on the table inches away from him, and then you proceed to retrieve a box of something hidden under the wood. It's not until you put it down next to the bottle and open it that he discovers that it's some kind of sewing kit.

You take a small mirror and put it on the edge of the window frame at a very specific angle.

Eyes sharp and focused on the task at hand, you withdraw a needle of adequate size from the box, carefully pull a thread through the pinhole, and douse them both with booze. Shortly after taking a generous gulp of the liquor yourself, you put them both to the side to draw up the side of your shirt.

Buggy pales slightly when he sees the bloodied bandages hidden under the fabric. If the semi-transparent reflection of it is enough to make him nauseous, he can't imagine what the real deal is like.

The three marks that stretch across your ribs look ugly. Scratch that, they look grotesque. Old blood rests dried and cracked along the edges, and the fresh flesh between your severed skin looks even worse. Like an animal maimed you and left you to rot on the ground. He’s seen his fair share of shitty shit in his life as a captain, but this is something he considers almost too much for him. It doesn’t make sense, he’s seen someone amputate on themselves due to a canon blast, but he only considered it a nuisance at best.

Maybe it’s because it’s you this time?

“God,” he whispers more to himself than anyone else. When snap your eyes to him, having heard him speak, he is quick to deflect. “I- Erhm, I never noticed how shitty the weather is tonight.”

He can’t tell if you buy it or not, but if you do, you don’t voice it and continue with your makeshift patchwork. With the rag you procured, you pour some of the alcohol over and press it tightly against your open wound with no delay. Buggy winces at the same time you do. He's had to disinfect wounds similarly before, and it hurts like hell. Fucking hell. He doubts you disagree with the notion.

You grit your teeth tightly, face contorting and your lips wobbling as a quiet "Fuck" leaves you. One second becomes two, two become four, four become eight until finally, you withdraw the now stained rag. He notices your hand shaking, your breath hitching, and the way you're all but forcing yourself to stay calm.

Since when did you limit yourself like this? Deny yourself the capacity to feel? Fucking scream, he wants to yell at you. Feel something. Say something! Show him that you still feel anything. Don't pretend like you don’t.

If that pot ain't calling the kettle black, he doesn’t know what is.

He looks at your reflection, watches as you pick up the needle and inching it towards your severed ski—

“DON’T!”

You abruptly stop and snap your eyes over to him, and he realizes he’s efficiently blown his cover. While still selectively mute, all the anger and irritation you need to convey is done so through your glare alone. Scorching. Sizzling.

He licks his lips. “If you do it like that, it’ll scar real fucking bad and won’t hold the skin together.”

At first, you only stare, and he thinks you’re going to ignore him again. However, like some miracle, you answer. “I know how to patch myself.”

“Sure as shit don’t look like it,” he retorts snidely. “With an angle like that, you’re lucky if—”

“I didn’t ask for your input.”

“Fucking looks like you need it.”

“I don’t need anything from you.”

You all but throw the needle into the nearby wall, which just happens to be the same one he‘s positioned next to. The needle lodges itself right into the wood, sticking out with the thread still dangling from the eye.

Buggy stops breathing, and a drop of sweat trickles down his forehead. He expects you to throw the bottle at him next, just for good measure.

But you don’t. You don’t do anything.

He spends a minute deliberating whether it’s appropriate to continue the flow of conversation. “Look,—” He turns his head around to face you directly. “I’ve been around the block; I know what is best suited for your kind of scratch.”

“I don’t need your help.”

“Between the two of us, who do you reckon has the most experience with having their asses kicked? The walking-talking tank who can launch people twice her size in the opposite direction, or the clown?”

“Thought you couldn’t be cut.”

“Correction; I can’t be sliced. There’s a difference,”

The look you give him is a culmination of everything ranging from indifference, irritation, boredom, and subtle agreement towards the statement. In lieu of an answer, Buggy prevails, "If you move the needle in a wavelength through the skin, it keeps it together better and is easier to remove. I know your name would make crossed stitches better fitted, but it sucks by comparison. Trust me."

You don't. Buggy knows that already, but if only for a second, your eyes shift to something other than the four aforementioned. Maybe it's contemplation, perhaps a softer edge around your crow's feet, but it's indecipherable from where he's perched. If he got closer, he might have a better chance at figuring it out.

To his surprise, you actually follow his word on it ... after retrieving the needle that's been embedded into the wooden wall with at least two-thirds of its length.

He corrects you here and there, and provides you pointers while weighing his words. He's just now got your attention, he's not about to risk losing it. "- Not too deep, remember? God, what are you trying to do, give yourself another scarring? Keep it tight!"

... Well, he weighed his words, but maaaan, is he bad at measurements.

After a few more glares from your side and some non-verbal threats of bodily harm, you finally manage to stitch the skin together. Your hands, while precise and experienced in the art that is self-suturing, didn't get to do it perfectly. He knows it hurts like a bitch, he winces every time he sees the needle protrude through your flesh, and while you show no facial reaction, he knows it hurts you as well.

If he'd had his own hands at disposal, he would've made it perfect. So perfect that you'd not even have a scar at all. That, and he’d finally be able to touch you.

But this is as appropriate a substitute as anything, and all in all, it's not too bad. It's you, of course, so nothing you do can be too bad. He keeps that thought to himself as he watches you wrap up your midsection and put away the equipment.

"So, how did I do as an instructor? Pretty damn flashy, am I right?" He says with a low chuckle, only for it to disappear once he's discovered that you're not talking or looking at him anymore. "What? Back to the silent treatment?"

Evidently, yes.

He chews on the inside of his cheek and comes up with another approach to get your eyes on him again. It’s a risky one; might get him your attention, or it might land him into the opposite wall, but it’s a risk he’s willing to take. "I heard what you said, you know? To Rubber-Boy."

He observes no palpable reaction, so he tries again. "Shanks seriously never told you what happened that day it all went down?"

There it is. The fish on the line. Bull’s eye. He sees you stiffen just slightly, and he gets his wish. A shiver runs down his spine when your eyes fall on him again; he can feel it, even from miles and miles away.

No distance can hope to expel the feelings your gaze bestows him with.

You speak one word. Just one. So low, yet so clear all the same.

"No."

... Buggy the Clown wants to vomit.

He's not sure if his current disproportionated state can manage it, not to mention it's been days since he last had a scrap of food, but it does not ease the nausea that threatens to overwhelm him.

Fuck.

When he first heard you tell Luffy this, he thought you were ... lying, somehow. It was stupid; you're not the kind to lie, always telling things as they are without skipping a beat. But he could not see your face, could not see the face you were making, and so he took it with a grain of salt. Or a bucket-load of it.

There was no way you didn’t know, no way Shanks didn’t tell you… Right? Buggy used to come up with excuses for his own righteousness, telling himself that this thing that happened was never his fault.

Now, he knows for certain. He knows you're telling the truth, he sees it, and he feels a bile rise in his throat.

One conclusion is made in the messy pile that is his brain.

He fucked up.

He fucked up BIG TIME.

It's a fuck-up that'll go down in history as the biggest fucking fuck-up ever to cross the seven seas in all fucking time. He fucked up so bad, in fact, that it cost him more than he'll ever be able to pay for.

The sound his throat makes is pathetic.

"Oh."

BANG!

A good-sized piece of the wooden table snaps under the pressure of your fist and descends to the floor with a plat. Buggy imagines if that was him instead, getting crushed to the floor like a maggot crawling in the dirty as an unsuspecting hiker walks across..

With the shove of your chair, you get to your feet. "I'm getting Zoro."

"NONONONO! WAIT! PLEASE, ANYONE BUT HIM!"

You don't care. You're already halfway across the room when he, in his desperation, shouts two words he's never said before.

"WAIT! I'M SORRY!"

… You stop.

He takes the moment right out of fate's hands.

"I didn't know, alright! I didn't know that you didn't know, and I thought you knew." He hopps his head a little closer to the edge of the table, right where the cracked piece currently on the floor once was. "I thought you knew, and then went with that fucking red-haired asshole! How was I supposed to know that you didn't know?!"

Wrong words. Very wrong words. He finds out soon enough just how wrong they were.

You're inches away before he can even blink, hands clenched on the table counter with one at each side of his head. Your noses almost touching, and he can feel the fire in your throat threaten to scorch him alive like a pig above the pyre.

"You could've asked." You say, softly at first, but bit by bit, your voice opens up to the deep-rooted anger that's laid dormant for years. "You could've asked me."

Craaaaack, and another splinter pops off the table and lands in his hair.

"You could've talked to me."

The entire table shakes now, and Buggy struggles not to slip from it. He thinks you're about to tear the whole damn thing to shreds with the way you're clenched around it. It's on-brand by now for you, comes with the name and everything.

"Cross-Hairs. Captain of the Cross-Haired Pirates, the Beast of the East, and Breaker of Tables and Faces and Bones and Jaws and Clown Noses."

He expects the additional titles to apply to him any moment now. He'll have to jump around the ship in search of his misplaced jaw next time, and probably the nose too. The crew of nobodies will have something to laugh about in years to come, and he'll never live the shame down.

But like with Orange Town, instead of the hand that will bring about his demise, all he feels is a breeze across his cheek. So light, and so brief, yet there lingers a warmth he wants nothing more than to grasp it. A thirsty man searching for his oasis.

You remove your hands from the table. "I would've traveled across the seas with you if only you'd asked it of me."

... What?

He feels his head freeze for the umpteenth time as your words circle in his head, garnering a storm of long-forgotten memories and feelings and hurt and betrayal.

You would?

You really would?

You would have gone with him all those years ago, if only he'd asked it of you?

He looks at your hands; the cracked knuckles and bruised skin, adjusted fights and blood and the impact of bones. The same ones currently threaten his safety as a dislocated head. He looks right into your eyes despite the risks it warrants.

You refuse to look at him, more now than ever, like there’s a rope wrapped around your neck that’s forcing you to face down. Like you're afraid that he might see something you'd prefer to keep in the dark. And yet he sees something wet and salty gathering in the corners of your eyes, and he sees the ways your body scrunches like a child wanting nothing more than to curl up to the floor and cry.

When was the last time he saw you even come close to crying? You never cried, for as long as he’d known you. If there ever was a time, it was the day he left you behind on that dock so long ago, and he had already turned his back before he had a chance to see the waterworks leak.

He finds it strange how some things seem to change whereas others don't. When Rogers first brought you onto the crew, disheveled and thin as you were, you never made a sound or showed any emotions. Being a man who wore his feelings and thoughts on display, he found it fucking weird. You were weird. You are weird, now more than ever.

Now, seeing you like this, knowing he's the one who brought it out, he doesn't know whether he's the detonator or the executioner. Maybe a bit of both?

His general nature is to deny accountability and put the blame on something or someone else to save face. It's always been like that; a habit by now. Call it cowardice, but he calls it a way of life. A bank getting robbed after the employees got knocked out by Muggy Balls? Not him. The white lion having a stomachache after eating old slabs left for too long in the cooler until it developed an ecosystem of its own? Not his fault.

But you crying?

You being hurt.

You hurting.

His fault. All his.

You, the strongest person he knows of; the same person who laughed at his jokes, worried about him, kicked ass seven days 'til Sunday, and shone so brightly in the moonlight by the docks, crying ...

His fault.

You're the strongest person he knows. Hell, you're probably one of the strongest people in all of East-Blue, yet still, he's the one who managed to make you cry. A beast rendered to a tearful child, still so small even after all this time, all because of him.

What does that make him? The strongest person in the East Blue? Or the worst? He's never minded being the worst at what he does, but he realizes in that moment, perched on the tabletop, that he can stand anyone's tears but yours.

Never yours.

You’re fighting those tears the same way you fight everything else; putting every ounce of strength your body has to offer, clawing at it, gripping it, doing everything in your power to keep the tears from spilling and potentially revealing something more.

Still, it doesn’t matter how strong you are. You could’ve lifted the world and held it in the palm of your hands, and the tears still would’ve proved the biggest challenge you'd face yet.

If he had his hands, he’d cradle your chin, hold you close, and promise to never let go ever again. You’d fight him all the same, kick his ass, claw at him, break all the bones in his body, and he’d let you.

He’d endure your strength, dance across the blazing charcoal that is your wrath, but nothing you’d do would make him let go, even if you were to separate every atom in his body one by one.

He'd hold on, and when he gets his body back, that’s what he’ll do.

“I’m sorry …” he whispers, the apology tasting like bitter peppercorns on the tip of his tongue. “I … Shouldn’t have left. I shouldn’t have” Fuck, he sounds pathetic. “… I’m so … so fucking sorry.”

For all of it.

He’s never once apologized in his life, not to anyone, but for you, he’d apologize a thousand times over. He’d learn “I’m sorry” in every language known to man, recite every prayer, suffer every penalty in the book.

This could all have been avoided if he’d just fucking talked to you that day instead of running. As if divinity decided to deliver punishments, he was haunted by that thing he ran from for twenty years; torturing him, driving him mad with longing.

Twenty years of bullshit in your absence … all of it avoidable had he not been the fuck-up he acknowledges he’s been.

He’d dive head-first into the ocean if it meant he could take back what he said that day. He’d take on the Marines too if he had to. He’d find the One Piece and give it to you, forgo his own dreams. He’d do anything, just to take back what he did.

Just to have you look at him with something other than scorn. Just to have you look at him the same way you used to.

A few drops of salt land on the table right in front of him, and save for the occasional sniffs and heavy inhales, you remain stubbornly quiet. This time, he keeps his mouth shut and awaits your judgment. The likelihood of you refusing to forgive him is the most probable one, and he can’t fault you for that as much as he’d hate it. The chance of you forgiving him just like that … is less.

A minute of silence becomes two minutes, and two become three, and five, and ten.

You raise your head to peer down at him, your eyes reddened and heavy, but you finally do look at him. He holds his breath in anticipation and wonders what’s working behind them.

What are you thinking?

What are you feeling?

Is it rage? Is it vengeance?

Will you wrap your hands around his neck and squeeze until there’s nothing left but an ashy head? He doesn’t know if asphyxiation will have the intended effect given his condition, but there’s only one way to find out.

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and imagines that it will be his last.

The door slams and the room rattles, throwing him off in surprise.

Buggy opens his eyes and sees that you’re not here anymore.

You’re gone, again.

He releases the breath he’s been withholding, not knowing what to make of this. Will you come back, or will you leave him here by himself: put him through the same state as he left you in?

His head burns thinking about it.

Not even a minute later, you return to the room, and the scent of something delicious fills the atmosphere.

You’re holding something in your hand, a plate. It takes him a while to realize what it is, and as he’s about to open his mouth to ask, you wordlessly put the plate down in front of him.

Buggy drools like a dog. It’s food. Actual fucking food. Some kind of dish (fish?) with boiled potatoes and cabbage on the side, with sauce distributed evenly over it. He usually hates cabbage, but as hungry as he is now, he thinks it looks like the most delicious thing of all. Even better, the food is still hot, and it’s been cut so that it’ll be easier for him to take in.

He looks up at you expectantly and watches as you sit down, cross your legs, and put a glass of water with a bendy straw next to the plate. Did you bring him a bendy straw? Holy fuck, you brought him fucking bendy straw! He can’t help but stare at you like you put the sun in the sky because, how could he not? You brought him food, you brought him a drink, YOU BROUGHT HIM A FUCKING BENDY STRAW!

Bored eyes turn to him as you rest your chin in the palm of your hand. “It’ll get cold,” you state matter-of-factly, which he interprets as Hurry up and eat, asshole.

Buggy doesn’t have to be told twice, and he digs in like an animal. Decorum was never his thing anyway.

Maybe this isn’t forgiveness, and maybe you’re still rightfully pissed, but that’s alright. This gesture implies that, at the very least, there’s a bridge now. It’s made of rusty nails and unsteady planks and runs over a shitty river, but it’s a milestone from his point of view.

He’ll wait for as long as he’ll have to, even if it’s takes another twenty years to make up for it, even if it takes a hundred. He'll wait and he'll work for as fucking long as he have to, just to see your smile again.

He knows your dream.

He knows you care; you protected him, after all. You held him close, put yourself in harm’s way just to keep him safe.

That means, even after all this time, you still consider him yours.

All that remains is for you to finally find our for yourself.

-----

Taglist: @kurinhimenezu, @carpinchootaku, @ay0nha, @teh-vampire-bunny, @lokiscure, @internationalsuper-spy, @detectivesparrow , @yuriwk , @notyuralycat , @angeli-fucking-cat , @machinema7k , @shuujin, @avatar-lover, @gingernut1314, @autumn-slaves. @marvelouskatie, @floristoflillys, @dizzyenby, @redpool, @deliri-yum22, @aemondsb1tch, @ackroxia, @gayandfairycore, @knightsfavoriteprincess, @asterizee, @aamethyst23, @lizzie1107, @cyberwears, @heylookliisten, @f41k47, @beep-beep1, @crimsonflameproxy, @unpopular-sober-thoughts, @rayleeya, @timeladyrikaofgallifrey, (If you want to be tagged for this story, just send me a message or leave a comment :))

#buggy the clown #buggy x reader #one piece live action #buggy the clown x reader #one piece #one piece x reader #buggy one piece #buggy x you #buggy the clown fanfiction #buggy x female reader #DMTMYHB #Didn't mean to make your heart blue #one piece buggy #captain buggy

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goatpaste · 1 year

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Alrighty, this has been something I'v been putting off for awhile because I really just wanted to save all the money myself but I just dont think its gonna be able to happen anytime soon and I'm tired of putting it off for Daisy's sake

but this is officially the Donation Post for us to start pooling together money to move daisy up from Texas to Pennsylvania. I'll bore you with the details under the cut but in the mean time here is links and info on the ways you can support the move!

[My commissions are Open] [My Etsy is Open]

[My Kofi were i offer PWYW commissions as low at 3$]

[My Toyhouse has designs for sale on it]

[You can Donate here and all the saving made toward this will be going directly into savings]

These are all the ways you can directly support us and help us work toward the goal of getting Daisy into a safe and better environment! I know not everyone is going to be able to chip in but anything helps even reblogs and sharing around! We've been talking about this move for over a year and I want to try and move her by the end of this year at the latest.

For more info on our specific situation and bit more details, please read under the cut

Daisy has been my friend since we were 6 years old, she is like a sister to me! We've been at each others side through thick and thin and I care about her so much.

Daisy's home life has never been the best and her parents are nightmare people who are a blight on the general public but as well as Daisy's home life.

Daisy doesnt have the ability to drive, work or save her own money even when she did work as her mother would take the money she earned constantly, and was ultimately the reason Daisy was unable to keep her job.

So for Daisy's end she has no ability to save and moving funds, it will primarily be on me to round up the money.

We are not 100% sure how much we are going to need at this moment in time but have a rough estiment.

Were hoping to get Daisy's mother on a good mood and have her pay for Daisy's plane ticket. We are going to be unable to move all her stuff and will just have to pack as much as she can into a large suitcase and fly up. So we will not have to pay for the plane, but will have to pay for bedding, and everything else she will need once up here. we have some temporary arrangements Via my bed and couch and potentially picking up a blow up mattress. But my current apartment is extremely small and not much room for two people let alone just me. Not sure how long I will be in this space while Daisy is up here if at all.

I may potentially reach out to my step father and ask him to dip into the savings he has kept for me to get Daisy furniture and necessities. But im avoiding that for as much as i can as im not on the best terms with my dad.

I will start looking for a bigger place for us to live together once we start getting in a comfortable area on savings. As the only money maker currently i will be needing savings to afford a place for us to share that will of course be much more expensive than where i am right now. Daisy will start looking for a job once she is/has moved up here and hopefully we will be able to support ourselves at that point, it will just be the first little bit of time we will need a cushion.

this is one of the areas im not 100% sure how much were going to need but certain in the thousands area knowing rent for a place big enough for two individuals.

after that its just gonna be us figuring it out.

but this is the situation as it stands right now, we are trying to help a trans woman out of her shitty living situation and across the country where her friends who love and care and want to support her are. We dont know exactly how much its going to be, but its going to be a lot and were really just looking for a bit of support!

thank yall so much!

#donation post #moving funds #commissions #furry #anthro #etsy #kofi

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thesherrinfordfacility · 10 months

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okay let's get them hard truths out in the open following episode 6, bearing in mind that i am in the UK and am therefore chronically sleep-deprived, and have watched the Feral Domestic™ maybe only like oh 7 times:

crowley is as much at fault as aziraphale. they are both as bad as each other. their own individual idiosyncrasies are literally the other's emotional downfall and if im honest im not entirely sure there's any way they can adequately move past it.

waxed on and on and on about it, but aziraphale's issue is not that he has any allegiance to heaven. he doesn't at all, and that is obvious in his initial reaction to the metatron, in that he essentially says that he knows his place and it is not Up Above. it is right there in the bookshop, and with crowley (even if he didn't consciously think it that explicitly at the time). he doesn't want any part of the heaven that it currently is, he has had enough and is tired of trying to be the angel that hides who he is and what he wants from his existence. that much is very much clear.

but the mantra throughout most of life is to be the change you want to see in the world. look at the major societal issues that are happening in the world today; people are rising up and fighting for what is right, and what they believe in, and wanting to make changes. now look at this opportunity that aziraphale has been given. regardless of the questionable motive of the metatron offering it to him; if you were in his position, could you say you'd find it easy to refuse that?

the issue here with aziraphale is that he (again, ill harp on about it until the cows come home) thinks that crowley - this demon that isn't a good demon because he is good and kind and gentle - would want to have his place in making that change happen; be by aziraphale's side whilst they create the world and heaven that is different from the largely shit one they've always known, hated, and feared. this is where the Pedestal comes in; like i said before, aziraphale has now been confronted with the fact that this demon, his best friend and love of his life, is acting in the way he's always acted but that aziraphale refuses to acknowledge... because to acknowledge crowley's shortcomings (which ill discuss in a sec) would be to question aziraphale's faith in him, and mean falling from the pedestal that has been aziraphale's status quo for the last few thousand years at minimum.

edit: this also needed adding because it touches on aziraphale's tendency to hold himself superior to crowley, which he also does in the Domestic scene.

crowley's issue is twofold. one, he cannot move on from the fall. second, that he is sometimes a manipulative and childish shit. the first is obvious, and his recent experiences with heaven have only compounded this (ie his conversation with gabriel/goob, where he lays into him about gabriel's part in the cruelty shown towards aziraphale to the point he almost makes goob kill/injure himself). crowley can also however be incredibly cruel borne out of his own pain. there were major hints in s2 that not only did crowley fall (no matter what the metatron says, im still not convinced he fell for only asking questions) but he fell from a great sodding height that in his mind should have made him untouchable. my thoughts on morality in heaven have already been discussed, but that must have had a huge impact on crowley; it is no wonder that it's a sore point and he feels bitter, resentful, and angry.

in the above context, id want nothing to do with heaven either. but crowley doesn't communicate and im guessing that his feelings about the fall are a No Go area in terms of what he's shared with aziraphale... so for crowley to assume that aziraphale turned down the metatron is grossly unfair - how was aziraphale necessarily meant to know how deep his trauma (if we're applying human mental health constructs) runs? he isn't to know that at all - so it does track that aziraphale would think that crowley would want to help him make a difference so they don't have to keep getting involved in the toxicity that is the heaven/hell politico-moral dichotomy.

what also upset me about the Domestic was the kiss. i loved it for what it was in isolation and it was a long time coming, and a huge movement in the dance they constantly have with each other, but it was in essence manipulative. i realise crowley was on his last emotional straw and yes, perhaps the love and devotion got too much for him to contain... but he literally just stood there and heard aziraphale tell him that he wanted crowley and he wanted them to be together. there were no qualms at all that aziraphale loves him as much as he loves aziraphale. so, what was the kiss meant to prove?

to my mind, it was manipulation; specific, a temptation. whilst very romantic and 'sweep him off his feet with the violins playing', it was also non-consensual and unwarranted on crowley's part - to the point of being derogatory and redundant (lets be clear: not a criticism on Neil for adding the kiss, im purely talking about crowley as a character and his Choices here). there was nothing to prove, nothing that that kiss could have possibly convinced aziraphale to do. so the only thing that leaves, imo, is that it was a temptation. crowley does not typically use temptation in this way, or at least that's the impression ive had throughout s1 and s2, so he chooses now is the time? to tempt aziraphale into staying with him? of course he does!

he's desperate, but also childish and immature and completely ignorant of what aziraphale is actually saying to him. aziraphale never denied him; aziraphale wanted him in this opportunity exactly by his side as he always has been. but that didn't fit with what crowley wanted, so he tried to make aziraphale bend to his will. aziraphale says the fatal words "i forgive you", but if he has (as i suspect he has) realised that crowley was trying to manipulate him... well, id probably say something as damning to crowley as 'i forgive you' too.

when aziraphale said 'nothing last forever', i realise crowley took that to mean him and the life that they built together, but it obviously wasn't that at all. aziraphale is saying that they have eternity ahead of them, that he wants to spend it with crowley, whatever has to end around them (ahem the world? apocalypse from s1, anyone?). aziraphale demonstrated consistently throughout s2 that he is trying to give crowley his own agency where heaven/hell are concerned (paraphrased but: "I want you to help me but if you don't want to, you are free to leave"). crowley however seemed that he was constantly one foot out the door in case things got Too Much (which, you know - valid) but aziraphale really did his best to make crowley not only not feel suffocated but also that crowley was wanted. and for anyone that is a tough balancing act.

the two of them have had 6000+ years of Not Really Communicating. this is the detritus that remains when they don't, and it was absolutely needed in this season. for them to break apart and break in and of themselves. s3 needs to be where they learn more about themselves than each other, and stop believing that the other is infallible, because such thinking - worship, blind faith - only ends badly.

#good omens #not the analysis this fandom wants #but the analysis that it needs #i will proof read this at some point so if shit doesnt read well or make sense just pretend that it does #aziraphale meta #s2 meta #feral domestic/final fifteen meta

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matan4il · 3 months

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Daily update post:

Today, Israel is voting in its local elections (for mayors and city councils). ALMOST all of Israel. The original date was at the end of October 2023, for obvious reasons, the elections were postponed. There were also a lot of mayor nominees, who were summoned for reserves service due to the war, and one of the reasons why the elections were postponed more than once, was to give as many of them as possible a chance to finish their service, and participate in their own election campaign. But even so, there are still hundreds of thousands of people from evacuated communities (displaced people, internal refugees, however you wanna call them), and therefore not everyone will be voting today. For the evacuated cities and towns, the elections were postponed until November. Looking at things, it's not sure they'll be back in their homes by then either, so IDK what their elections will look like. And then of course there are the hostages. Save for two, 4 years old Ariel Bibas and his 1 years old baby brother Kfir, they all had the right to vote, and none will get to. We remember them and hurt over their absence and everything being continuously being stolen from them on this day, too. On a side note, the national supervisor of these local electional is Rayan Ghanem. And if you know Jewish last names, you know Ghanem is not one of them. I'm trying to remember a time in apartheid South Africa when a non-white was a national supervisor of elections.

Despite still pointing out that the International Court of Justice has no right to judge the case brought to it by South Africa (becaue of SA's false claims to bring this case to court), Israel has filed a report in accordance with one of the ICJ's provisional measures, showing that its actions are in compliance with all of them (like providing humanitarian aid to Gaza, and doing all it can to protect civilians).

Meanwhile, at Harvard, just 6 weeks after she was appointed to lead the task force meant to combat Jew hatred, the university's antisemitism tsar has quit her position, with reports saying that she's frustrated over her inability to implement practical measures.

Remember when I wrote about Idan Amedi, the Israeli singer and actor that most people outside our country know from his role on Fauda? He gave a really moving speech when he was released from the hospital. I've wanted to share it for a while, but couldn't find it translated well. I found this bit:

But it really doesn't cover how moving the whole speech is (it's 9 minutes long). Among other things, he also thanked medical teams, assured Israelis we have the best ones, and apologized to his soldiers who died in the same incident in which he was injured. He also mentioned that he was unrecognizable when he was rushed into the hospital, and that doctors only identified him by the note that was attacked to his hand. It turns out, he really wanted people to see what he was talking about, and to understand that by the time he gave this public speech, he was already looking much better than on the day of he was wounded. So here is the image he shared himself on his IG (just scroll quickly past it, if you feel like it is too much for you, which is an understandbale reaction):

This is 68 years old David Edri.

On October 7, he was held hostage with his wife by Hamas for hours. At a certain point, he even covered his wife Rachel with his own body, in order to protect her from the terrorists' shots. They both survived. Yesterday, we got the news that he has passed away. His family said the trauma and stress from the massacre, and the news of its scale, had aggravated his medical problems for the last couple of months, until he could no longer go on.

This is 23 years old Raz Mizrachi.

In May 2021, she was injured in a vehicular terrorist attack in Jerusalem, but survived. On Oct 7, she was attending the Nova music festival. Her last phone call was to the police, to help instruct them on where she and dozens of others were hiding from Hamas terrorists, inside a public bomb shelter. Raz was murdered shortly after that. When her mom got a copy of the call's recording, she said it was a great source of comfort to the family, to know that Raz was a fighter till the last moment.

May their memory be a blessing.

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

#israel #antisemitism #israeli #israel news #israel under attack #israel under fire #terrorism #anti terrorism #hamas #antisemitic #antisemites #jews #jew #judaism #jumblr #frumblr #jewish #israelunderattack

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its-not-a-pen · 5 months

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—Terracotta—

Ok so I visited xi'an during my trip back to china (3 months ago?), and this idea popped into my head during the 9h train ride back to shangdong. I am of course 100% projecting my own love of the terracotta army onto Qin Shi Huang, in reality he did not care for this pit of mud statues depicting lowly commoners. In fact, no one ever bothered to write about it and they were lost to history until 1974 when some farmers digging a well stumbled upon them. But it's exactly the reason I'm so fascinated by them. QSH's tomb has not been excavated, and although I have a running joke about cracking it open--mercury vapors be damned--none of the riches inside will ever enchant me as much as the chance to see the face of a person who lived during this time.

Notes under the cut:

the title Qin Shi Huangdi means "First Emperor of Qin" and was given to QSH by later historians. He actually called himself the Shi Huangdi, "First Emperor", and that is the title I've gone with here.

in English the other kingdoms are translated as "states" (i guess to avoid confusion?) but in chinese they are very much kingdoms.

The terracotta warriors used thousands of craftsmen, many of whom were slaves from conquered kingdoms. From a storytelling perspective I thought it would be more streamlined if there were two main artisans who reported directly to QSH.

QSH's clothes are based on the overly complicated courtly regalia. which has 12 symbols that only the emperor is allowed to wear

Notice how this hat is ROUND at the front??? Well I CERTAINLY DIDN'T. HAD TO REDRAW IT!!!!!

the stripped shirt is based on this Chu woman figurine. Clothes were fairly unisex during this time and I thought it was a nice fit.

Paperwork: writing was done on books made of bamboo slips. Anecdotally, QSH had an impressive work ethic and would read 100 bills every night.

Bronze Goose lamp: ok this is actually a Han dynasty lamp pls forgive me. I saw this bad boy at the xi'an history museum and it's bewitched me body and soul. The goose neck is hollow and connects to a reservoir of water in the belly, which minimizes smoke and cools the lamp.

QSH is remembered as a brutal tyrant and brilliant statesman, but I wanted to present a more human version of him here. Bored, tired and drowning in work he refuses to delegate. His new empire is balanced as precariously as everything else on his desk.

The attendants standing behind him are holding little wood tablets called hu for taking notes. Their brushes are tucked into their hats/hair, inspired by Han dynasty custom. (You'll see me using Han stuff a lot. Their cultures were very similar to Qin, since it was only a few hundred years apart).

So I had a slight breakdown trying to find the correct hats for the eunuchs, and ended up redrawing everything the night I was due to publish. Closest thing I could come up with was a reference to a round-style Han Dynasty hat which evolved into this square Jin hat. Yes, this is a cry for help .

the wheeled platform is 100% made up, I tried to come up with a plausible way of getting a bunch of figurines into the palace.

#5 & #6

Painted terracotta soldier

How were the terracotta warriors made

The General: Fun fact, I got to see this guy in person!

The Epic Wide Shot was inspired by some Tang Dynasty terracotta figures I saw at the xi'an museum!

THIS KNEELING ARCHER. ARGGGGG. He use to be my favourite guy. I even went into the pit and drew him IN PERSON. the archers inexplicably have their hair buns on the OPPOSITE SIDE OF THE HEAD. So because of him, I DREW ALL THE HAIR BUNS WRONG!!!! REDRAW!!!! PAIN AND SUFFERING!!!!

#10

Qin was famous for it's very long, thin swords. They were more useful as status symbols than actual weapons, as QSH knows from personal experience…

#11

QSH'S Tomb hasn't been excavated yet, but high levels of mercury have been detected in the soil, making the historical accounts of quite plausible.

#chinese history #warring states period #qin dynasty #qin shi huang #terracotta army #comics #my art comes with homework lol #art

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public-trans-it · 8 months

Note

i would love to hear your dark spore rant. i didnt even know spore had a sequel.

Oh anon. Poor sweet anon. I’m so sorry.

So, the thing about Darkspore is…

… it was a really REALLY… mediocre game.

Like, the moment to moment gameplay was… fine. Just fine. Not incredible. But not BAD! Really, it only had two major flaws:

The first, it was buggy as hell. One particularly nasty bug was present in the games launcher, and on certain systems the game would fail to install at all. They were unable to ever fix this bug, which I speculate was a major reason the game was abandoned by the devs so quickly and lead to it being taken down from every major digital distribution site. You could still install and play it if you already bought it though! If… it actually installed for you.

Which leads us to the second flaw. It’s right there on the box.

“Internet connection required”

The game has Always Online DRM. All the levels, enemies, loot, your entire account, was all stored server side. And servers are expensive. So, when the games bugs became unwieldy and not worth fixing, and they took it offline… it became a money sink. It was a game generating ZERO revenue, but had huge server maintenance costs. So eventually, they just shut down the servers.

It is now very difficult to obtain the game, requiring you to buy one of the few unopened physical copies remaining. And even once you do have it, it is IMPOSSIBLE to play. There is a project called Resurrection Capsule in the works, some fans trying to create a private server for it. But with so much info stored server side, they basically have to recreate entire subsystems from scratch. It’s… not going very fast, and to my knowledge hasn’t been touched in over a year.

Story

The story of the game is pretty basic. A progenitor race of alien super-scientists create a new, synthetic form of DNA, called Exponential-DNA, or E-DNA. This rapidly mutates to create new life, and can be guided to create specific, specialized organisms, condensing thousands of years of evolution to a few hours. It can also be injected into existing creatures to alter them and make them more powerful. However it also linked everything affected by it into a hivemind. So it was outlawed. The creator of it decided to respond by creating a E-DNA virus, called The Darkspore, infecting himself with it, and spreading it across the galaxy and conquering it, wiping out his own race.

You play as another member of that race, who has been in hibernation for 1000 years while that was going down. Your ship AI has woken you up because it has managed to stabilize E-DNA and also keep it disconnected from the hivemind, and needs you to go kill the guy who took over the galaxy. That is how the game starts.

…

And how the story ends. There is not really any more story past that part. You get a cutscene describing each of the games 6 planets the first time you visit it, and a final “Hey you won!” cutscene after killing the final boss which ends with the cliche “implication the villain isn’t really dead” trope, and… that’s it. That’s the entire story. Not really the selling point of this game. Its not even entirely clear if it takes place in the same universe as Spore! It’s just set dressing for “Run through these 24 levels and beat everything up”

Gameplay

Darkspore was created by Maxis. This alone was HUGE. This was a team of developers who only really made lifesims like The Sims and Sim City, taking a stab at making a diablolike game.

And I GENUINELY BELIEVE every single studio out there needs to do shit like this. Designing for something so outside your wheelhouse creates SOOOOO much innovation so quickly. You get fresh new ideas injected into the genre so quickly. The final product won’t be good! You don’t have any damn experience in the genre! But it will create something unique beautiful, and god damn I wish we lived in a world where that alone was enough and devs weren’t focused on chasing profits instead.

Genesis

Genesis is just a fancy way of saying ‘Element’. There are 5 of them: Plasma (fire and lightning), Bio (plants and animals), Cyber (machines), Necro (death and fear), and Quantum (space and time) and the way they interact is… certainly a choice I guess. Each Darkspore you face has a genesis it falls into, and each of your heroes has one as well. If your Genesis matches that of the darkspore you are fighting at the moment, you take double damage and they take half damage. If they don’t match, all damage both ways is neutral.

The system itself is kinda mediocre. The biggest part of it, however, is the Variant Skills. Each Genesis has 4 unique skills tied to it that represent the common elements of that type.

Heroes

There are 25 heroes in the game, which each have one Genesis and one Class (Sentinel which are the tanks, Ravagers which are the DPS, and Tempest which are the Casters/Support)

Each hero has 4 total variants, with the first one you unlock being Alpha, and as you level up your account (heroes do not have their own levels) you eventually can purchase their Beta, Gamma, and Delta variants, with each variant having slightly different stats, and a different one of their Genesis’ 4 variant abilities.

Each hero has a unique basic attack, which USUALLY has a little extra to it. For example Sage shoots a bolt that hurts enemies it hits, but heals allies it hits. Zrin alternates between two different punches, one of which has a short duration DoT and the other of which has a 10% stun chance. Stuff like that.

They also have a passive effect that is always active while you are playing them. Collect a soul from each enemy killed for a 5% damage boost, 10% damage bonus when attacking from behind, a stacking defense buff every time you take damage, stuff like that.

Finally, a character has 2 unique abilities. One that is unique to them and can only be used while you are playing that hero, and a second ability that is everyone in the squad can use if that hero is present.

Squad Decks

Which brings me to the first rant and something I am SO AUTISTIC ABOUT (positive). SQUADS. The game had you craft Squad Decks, collections of 3 heroes that you can swap between during your missions, for a total of 883.2k squad combinations (I think my math might be off on that). Swapping between them is on a cooldown of about 10 seconds, but otherwise is don’t instantaneously and as often as you want without penalty. You always have 5 abilities active:

- The unique ability of your active hero

- The Genesis ability of your active heroes variant

- Hero 1’s Squad ability

- Hero 2’s Squad ability

- Hero 3’s squad ability

The first two abilities change out every time you swap heroes, but the last 3 are fixed. So you have 3 abilities that you always have access to, and 6 abilities that are paired up and you can swap between which pair of those abilities is active.

Your heroes do NOT share a health/energy pool, but DO share healing pickups. Any time you pick up a health or energy restoration pickup, it refills a chunk of the respective health pool of your currently active hero, and a smaller chunk of each of your inactive heroes in the squad.

So the core loop of moment to moment gameplay becomes swapping situationally between heroes both offensively and defensively, to get access to your other heroes skills and also to mitigate damage from enemies based on their genesis or control where your healing is directed.

Loot

Loot in Darkspore is fairly standard for your average Diablolike. Item drops have 4 tiers: Common (Item Level=Account Level-5), Uncommon (Item Level=Account Level), Rarified (Item Level=Account Level+5), and Purified (Item Level=Account Level+10)

Items of higher tiers have more chances to roll on a table to gain beneficial modifiers.

Each item fell into one of a few different categories: Weapon, Hands, Feet, Offensive, Defensive, or Utility.

Each hero has one of each slot, plus an additional slot based on their class. Ravagers have an extra Offense slot, Sentinels have an extra Defense slot, and Tempests have an extra Utility slot. Any hero can equip any item you gain, with the exception of Weapons that are hero specific. Some heroes also lack Hands or Feet, in which case their weapon has extra stats and can get the same modifiers as hands and feet can.

The items you equip can then be added onto the Hero in the Hero Editor. The Hero Editor is often equated to the Creature Editor in Spore, which is BULLSHIT and was a pet peeve of mine the ENTIRE DAMN TIME THE FAME WAS LIVE. This is a FALSE EQUIVALENCE. It uses the outfit editor from the Tribal/Civilization phases of Spore instead. Importantly: this means you cannot alter the overall silhouette of your hero. It will always maintain the same basic profile and animations. However you can freely place the extra parts you equip anywhere on its body, and can also place multiple copies of them.

Additionally, old parts can have their stats stripped, converting them into ‘Detail’ parts with no stats, of which you can equip 6 different parts, each of which you can include 10 copies of on your hero. So you could get some pretty cool looks from it!

However all this loot is garbage and you likely would not use most of it outside of appearance. Which brings me to…

Cash-out Loot

Usually if you mention the word ‘cash’ in any sentence involving a game published by EA, it would be a call for concern. Luckily this isn’t that! It’s just gambling! Everything is fine!

The main progression in Darkspore comes from gear, and the best gear comes from how good your ships engines are. These come from account upgrades as you level up your account, determining how many levels you can do in a row. Every time you complete a level, you are given an option: Keep going, or ‘cash out’ and get a guaranteed piece of Uncommon gear, with a 10% chance of it becoming Rarified, as well as all the gear you picked up in the level.

If you choose to keep going, you have to complete the next level. If you die, you lose ALL the gear you picked up, including that guaranteed piece. If you make it to the end, you are given another choice: Risk it all again and go on to the next level, or stop here and get your TWO pieces of guaranteed uncommon loot, which each now have a 20% chance of becoming rarified and a 5% chance of becoming purified.

You can only go another of levels equal to the number of Engine Upgrades you have earned by leveling up your account. So at first, after the second level you HAVE to cash out. As you progress you can start to do many more levels at a time, getting a dozen pieces of gear that are practically guaranteed to be the highest rank.

But of course you have to play these levels in order, and you don’t get a chance to upgrade your character with all the cool new loot you found on the way, so you can’t just jump straight into this. You have to slowly build up to being able to push yourself this much, and once you can, you have a readily available source of some of the best gear in the game.

And that ties into my absolute favorite system of Darkspore:

Catalysts

Many diablolikes have a mechanic called ‘Sockets’. The gear you equip has its own type of equipment slot, and you put gems in there that give you small bonuses. Every game does it a little differently, but it’s kind of a staple of the series.

Darkspore uses a similar system, but utilizes it VERY differently. While you are running levels, enemies will rarely drop Catalysts instead of loot. These come in 5 colors: Purple (boosts your base stats), Red (boosts offensive secondary stats like damage or attack speed), Blue (boosts defensive secondary stats like health regen or damage resistance), Green (boosts utility secondary stats like movement speed or lifesteal), and Rainbow (can contain any of the bonuses of the previous categories) They also come in two sizes: Big and Small. This determines how big the bonus from them is.

You have a 3x3 grid on your HUD that the catalysts you collect go into. You can rearrange them however you want, and if you create a line of 3 of the same color (Rainbow is a wildcard and matches with all of them), it will double the bonus of all Catalysts in that line. This stacks, meaning if you create multiple lines over a single catalyst it could get a x3, x4, or even x5 bonus if it’s the center piece of the grid and forms a line in every direction.

However, you can’t save Catalysts. You can equip it to the grid or drop it on the ground and move on. That’s it. You have to decide now. Do you keep that Big Purple you have for the big buff to your most important stat, or do you trade it for that Small Rainbow for a mediocre stat you just found that you can plug in the middle and double everything else in your grid?

“Surely that only matters early game, and once you have good catalysts you don’t swap them out that much, right?” I hear the diablolike veterans asking, because that is how socketing works in most of those games. And normally you would be right. Except for one major change: All your catalysts only last until the end of your run. When you get to the cash out screen, and choose to keep going? You keep them. But if you choose to cash out, or if you ever die, your catalysts all vanish. Every new run you have to go through and collect them again, which results in you playing your heroes in new ways and adopting new strategies based on what catalysts drop for you each run.

It’s an INCREDIBLE easy to learn system that adds SO MUCH depth and replayability to the game. I love it so incredibly much. Each mechanic flows elegantly into the the next. The catalysts help you do better runs which gets you better gear which upgrades your heroes which lets you do better runs, the entire spiral being locked into your account level to give a quantifiable metric of how far this spiral is gone. It was so good!

And now, it’s gone forever.

Man that sure was a long post. Friends have heard me go on this rant SO many times. Thank god I never got into a second mediocre game filled with novel innovations that are ultimately lost to time and can never be experienced again due to Always Online DRM making it unplayable. Can you imagine if I didn’t learn my lesson and did that a second time? Ha!

… I never did that again. Right?

… right?

…

HEX: Shards of Fate

Hex was a digital TCG legal battle with TCG elements created by Cryptozoic. It was originally put up on Kickstarter, advertised as a digital card game with both PvE and PvP modes, a unique focus on the design space opened up by being a digital game, and gameplay damn near identical to Magic: The Gathering.

The thinly veiled truth was that this game was never meant to succeed. They had hoped it would, and it would be great if it did, but I’m fairly certain that was always a secondary objective. The first objective was to get sued by Wizards of the Coast over the similarities to Magic: The Gathering.

Now, that might sound strange to an outsider, but to anyone in the industry, they are probably nodding along and going “Yeah that tracks actually.”

You see, Wizards of the Coast is… bad. Really bad. They do everything in their power to choke the life out of the industry and have resorted to a lot of questionable tactics to do so. One of these is against anyone who develops any form of trading card game. You see, WotC has a patent on booster packs, customizable decks of cards, and turning cards sideways.

Literally.

U.S. Patent No 5,662,332 (A)

It is not a coincidence that the second two biggest names in TCGs don’t involve turning your cards sideways. Konami contested that Yugioh was different enough to not violate the patent.

WotC responded by suing them. They settled out of court.

Nintendo actually hired WotC to design the Pokémon TCG to NOT violate the patent in return for WotC getting to distribute the first few sets. WotC gladly accepted, distributed the game, got their cut of the sales, and as soon as that was over….

WotC responded by suing them. They settled out of court.

Every single other game out there ended up paying royalties to WotC. Because the cut of the sales to WotC was cheaper than going to court even if you won. WotC had their fingers in every pie, but was smart enough to make sure not to piss people off so much that refusal was ever a viable option.

Cryptozoic was a company that, at the time, was making several licensed TCGs. The big one that jumps out was the World of Warcraft TCG, which they were in charge of (though it was originally made by Upper Deck). Cryptozoic was begrudgingly paying royalties because having the WoWTCG license was too good and they didn’t want to give that up. Then Hearthstone happened and Cryptozoic was going to lose the WoWTCG license as it got discontinued.

So Cryptozoic set up their new game, Hex, specifically to bait WotC into suing them, so they could get the patent overturned.

See, the patent isn’t actually valid. You cannot patent a game mechanic. There are certainly aspects of the patent that ARE valid and CAN be enforced, but the parts about mechanics can’t actually be enforced. WotC uses it because people can’t contest it, but if it actually was used in court it would get overturned VERY easily, and WotC would be declawed.

So Cryptozoic created a game that was a clone of MtG, used a Kickstarter to build up a large amount of legal funds, and got sued by WotC! Yes! Exactly what they wanted!

… and then they settled out of court.

Sigh.

I guess I’ll talk about the game now.

Lore

The lore of the game was solid. Pretty typical fantasy setting. Humans and elves and sort of racist orcs (better than most other orcs I’ve seen at least) and extremely racist tribal coyote people make up the good guys. Undead, spider-orcs, dwarves, and also pretty racist samurai rabbit people make up the bad guys.

There are two types of magic in the world: Blood magic and Wild magic. Elves are adept at wild magic. Shin’hare (the rabbit people) are adept at wild magic as well. The Shin’hare tried to take over the world, forcing the Orcs, Humans, Elves, and Cyotle to ally together to drive them underground into the underworld.

There the Shin’hare met and allied with the Vennen, an all male race descended from Orcs. They were adept blood mages, and they procreated by kidnapping orcs and using them as incubators for spiders. I fucking love the Vennen. I’ll focus on them a lot in this. The Vennen taught the Shin’hare how to sacrifice their young for more power.

The two then allied with the Dwarves, a genderless race of sentient stone statues who excel at creating machinery, and who believe the world itself is a giant machine. Specifically, a weapon of mass destruction, and they are trying to set it off. They believe blowing people the fuck up to be their natural calling.

The underworld and overworld forces go back and forth a bit, with the Elves doing a large chunk of the work as the only overworld race that can use magic.

Then Hex happened. Hex is a massive meteor made up of Diamond, Emerald, and Sapphire. Hex punched clean through the world, scattering gems all across it, before stabilizing in orbit on the other side, becoming the worlds moon.

These gems were incredibly magical, allowing every race to now use magic. Diamonds were restorative, bringing life to things. Rubies were extremely destructive and burned bright and hot and quickly. Sapphire allowed finesse manipulation and control over water. These

Yes this is just the MtG color pie.

Eventually, humanity stumbled into one of their old crypts that was very close to the impact site of Hex, and found it CRAWLING with undead. They were taking the Diamonds from Hex and putting them into the eye sockets of human corpses, causing those corpses to reanimate. These were NOT actually undead, but an alien consciousness that existed within the gems that were using human corpses as a host.

The Necrotic sought a peaceful and symbiotic relationship with humanity as thanks for the use of the bodies. Humanity responded by getting really pissed off that the Necrotic were grave robbing, and went to war over it. Eventually the Necrotic retreated deep into the underworld and allied with the other races instead, eventually helping the Shin’hare with a second attack on the surface.

The lore has a lot more depth than that, but that’s the basic. I liked it a lot. The Orcs being good guys who just really liked tests of strength was a refreshing take on orcs. I liked them a lot. The extremely racist caricature that made up the Cyotle and the Shin’hare? Less so.

Digital Design Space

As for the actual gameplay… it was MtG. Like, almost 1:1.

Like…

Seriously.

Shards work similarly to Lands, with there being 5 basic shards, Diamond, Sapphire, Ruby, Wild, and Blood. You can only play one Shard per turn and when you do you get 1/1 Resource. 1 resource to spend on this turn, and 1 permanent resource. You spend that resource to play a card that costs 1, and you go down to 0/1 resources. Start of your turn, you would go back up to 1/1 resource.

Pretty straight forward stuff. Resources are a card type like in MtG, but once it’s played it acts as a perpetual resource like the Mana in Hearthstone, with no need to care about where the resource is coming from.

… wait a second though, this is a MtG clone. It uses the color pie. Caring where those resources come from is KIND OF a big deal in MtG.

Which is the first really cool difference between Hex and MtG! THRESHOLD! Each time you play a shard you gain 1 threshold in that color. To play a card, you have to have at least as many threshold as are displayed below its cost. See that purple dot below Murder? That means you need 1 blood threshold to play it.

Threshold is NOT consumed when you play a card, which DRASTICALLY alters deckbuilding and how feasible multi-color decks are.

For example, in MtG, if you had 4 swamps and 1 mountain in play, and 5 cards in hand that all cost R…. You can play 1 whole card this turn.

In Hex, if you have 4 Blood and 1 Ruby, and have 5 cards that all cost 1 and have a single Ruby threshold, you can play your entire hand that turn. This made it incredibly viable to splash colors in relatively smaller amounts. It also opened up cool new design space, like cards that cost 1 but still required 3 threshold in a color. Or cards that require 1 threshold of every type to activate a bonus effect (very common among Necrotic) or… for sockets!

HEY WE ARE COMING FULL CIRCLE!

Remember how I mentioned Diablolike games having sockets, but how Darkspore didn’t use it? Well Hex DOES. There was a pair of keywords called Socketable Major and Socketable Minor. Each set, there would be 10 gems (two of each color) that rotated out for Socketable cards. Cards with Major sockets could equip any gem, while minor sockets could only equip half of them. So for example the current rotation might have the Sapphire gems be “While you have at least 1 Sapphire Threshold, this card has Flying” for its Minor gem, and “When you play this card, if you have at least 3 Sapphire Threshold, target player draws 3 cards”

You chose which gem was in each Socketable card during deckbuilding. Different copies of the same card could have different gems equipped, or you could have the same gem equipped across multiple different cards. It was basically a way to go “This card was designed to be splashed in other color decks. You pick what that other color is.”

It opened up a lot of design space! This was something Hex did VERY well. They knew they were making a MtG clone, but they weren’t beholden to the same restrictions a physical card game did, and they THRIVED in those areas.

For example, REPLICATORS GAMBIT, a one cost card that creates six copies of a troop (read: creature) that just… could not exist in MtG.

Another example of this was in my favorite archetype in Hex: Mill. Now, I’m not normally a blue player. I’m not a big fan of the ‘you don’t get to play the game’ archetype. Even mill isn’t really my thing. But the way it worked in HexTCG? God I loved it. I wish I could see my opponents faces as they reached a trembling hand out to their bloated, grotesque deck, a cruel mockery of what it once was. They had started the match with only 60 cards, but now it held twice that number. Knowing every draw was more likely to bring their own skittering death out.

…

Maybe I should back up a bit.

Vennen are, in MtG terms, tribal Blue/Black with a focus on control. Specifically an aggressive form of control. Your wincon is still ‘beat your opponent to death’, but the means by which you do it is… spiders.

Lots of Vennen cards work by still allowing your opponent to do the thing that you blocked, but it now creates Spider Eggs in their deck. Lock down a creature as it enters play with ‘Everytime this creature becomes tapped, shuffle 3 spider eggs into your deck’ or ‘Whenever an opponent draws a third card this turn add a spider egg to their deck’ or ‘When this creature is destroyed add a spider egg to your opponent’s deck’ and when they DRAW a spider egg… well… the effect of a spider egg is more or less ‘When this card enters your hand or graveyard, draw/discard another card into that zone and destroy this one. Your opponent creates a Spiderling and puts it in play. “

Spiderlings are 1/1 Unblockable creatures.

The Vennen win con is to just fill your opponent with spiders and then shred them apart once the spiders start hatching. It was a DELIGHTFUL playstyle.

PvE

Hex also features a fairly robust PvE mode with a point crawl encounter map that was quite delightful. There were cards unique to PvE, but all PvP cards were also legal in PvE. In general, all your staples came from PvP and were the same core staples everyone uses to win (they were very generous with handing out common/uncommon PvP cards in the single player mode, which in turn also made Pauper a very popular format), however you also had PvE cards which made up your win cons. PvE cards weren’t balanced as tightly, and allowed to just be dumb overpowered bullshit just because it’s fun to use dumb overpowered bullshit sometimes!

There were also equipment slots that would modify the cards in your deck, turning PvP cards into PvE cards. For example, Replicators Gambit made it so that EVERY copy of that card gained that text.

PvE started with character creation. You would create a character that was one of the 8 races, and one of 6 3 different classes. Warrior, Cleric, or Ranger. I think there was a late update that added Mage but I don’t recall too clearly, and it isn’t document online anymore as far as I can tell!

Each class had a unique talent tree that you could customize and change how you played. Your race determined what colors you could play, and your level determined how many of each rarity you could play.

I played a Vennen Cleric. Cleric’s whole thing was that you would gain Blessings, 0 cost cards that would rise in your deck each turn, and could be played to draw a card as well as additional effects based on your build. My blessings put more eggs in the enemy deck, to the surprise of no one.

As you went from encounter to encounter you would earn new cards to modify your deck, swapping decks between fights. Then there were dungeons, long laborious streaks of a dozen or so encounters, with branching paths and decisions to be made, earning you tons of new packs and equipment and experience to boost your character. One especially fun encounter was crossing a desert with a pack of… I think it was gnomes? There were 20 of them that needed rescuing. The way you rescued them was putting them in your deck, and then leaving the desert through a single combat encounter. Except they were AWFUL. Like 3 cost vanilla 1/1’s level of awful. The more you had in your deck, the harder the encounter became. It was a really nice way to portray the logistical challenge of trying to fight while protecting all these useless tagalongs.

There were plans to even introduce Raids, 3v1 PvE encounters, but they fizzled out as the game got sunset.

The game was good. REALLY good. It relished in the digital design space in a way I haven’t quite seen since then. A few games, like Legends of Runeterra, have come close, but always fall short, and that’s so sad! I DESPERATELY want to play a TCG with this level of customization again!

Luckily that was the end of it. I finally learned the error of my ways, never touched anything ‘always online’ again, and now can live a life without regrets! … except Legends of Runeterra a little bit like I mentioned above but THATS IT! There are no other always online games I have regrets about!

…

ToonTown Online

Okay no, not seriously. I’ve never played toontown. But honestly it looked kinda silly and like a shitpost in video game form. I think it would have been fun to try at some point with a few friends. Not seriously, just to screw around in for a bit.

Never going to get that chance. Just like nearly everyone reading this will never get to play two of my biggest influences that shaped how I think about game design.

Always Online DRM is an insidious beast. It doesn’t just kill games, it kills *archival*. All we have left of these games is a relatively small number of gameplay videos. I was planning on having a lot more pictures in this post of all the interface elements I was talking about as I talked about them, but there just… aren’t any good pictures of them. Even these details are based on my own memory cross referenced with a couple of wikis, and even those were sparse.

Some games can’t feasibly avoid Always Online. MMO’s are a big example. But by adding it into a game that has a single player experience involved, and not making that single player experience a standalone thing on its own, you are destroying any hope that your game will be remembered. It will fade into obscurity. There will never be a cult revival. Your work will be discarded and forgotten and it’s… so incredibly sad to see.

I jokingly titled this section being about ToonTown, but really this section is about Kingdom Hearts: Union X. It was a mediocre and disgustingly predatory gacha. It was horribly managed with horrible issues around localization and it was just… a mess. But it was part of the world of Kingdom Hearts, and it’s story was important and mattered.

The game is no longer playable, but it’s also not entirely lost. The devs created a new version of it, as a gallery to view the cutscenes. The single-player side mode, Dark Road, is also included. The devs didn’t have to do this. They could have gone the same route as Darkspore and HexTCG, and had their work be forgotten. They chose to save it. Not in full, but at least the parts the deemed important.

It also makes me wonder how much this happens in other mediums. Ludology is a pretty new field, and it rarely goes into specific games and their impact on the medium, mostly just focusing on the impacts they have on humanity, rather than the mechanics themselves as these beautiful pieces of art. And it makes me wonder how often this happens with say… film critics. Are there any indie film makers who are deep in the paint of indie films and critique of not just the films themselves, but the very techniques being used, just sitting there going “It’s so upsetting that this big studio managed to do something this beautiful and all of us in the scene recognize it’s beauty, but no one else seems to, and now it’s gone?”

… as I’m writing this I actually realize that this does happen there. It’s how I found out about what became my favorite film of all time, The Man From Earth. It’s a small film that flopped horribly in theaters, and only gained any attention by being pirated by a lot by indies who wanted to talk about it. It’s a good movie, highly recommend. Not for everyone though.

I don’t know. I’m sure I had a point with all this but… seeing it happen again and again and now with streaming services taking stuff down it’s just… I can’t help but seeing not just more and more games, but more and more of EVERY artistic medium ending up in this area. How many digital artists entire portfolios have vanished off the face of the earth because their tumblr got deactivated? How many movies are going to be gone forever when Netflix eventually goes out of business? We can’t even rely on piracy! Many old pieces of media is just lost forever. Just ask the Doctor Who fandom. They probably know more about that than anyone else at this point.

But mostly I just really wish more developers would consider what parts of their games are important, and what kind of legacy they want to leave, instead of just what will generate a short burst of profit, with no care for what happens after.

… I should start doing video essays with how long this got. It’s like some kind of text based video essay. A text essay. Those are a new thing I just invented.

#Darkspore #Spore #Those are the only two tags on this post because those are the only games I talk about don’t worry about it. it’s fine. don’t read further.#HexTCG #Hex: Shards of Fate #Kingdom Hearts: Union X #Always Online DRM #The Man From Earth #I swear to god if anyone tells me I should just play Temo on LoR I will scream #YES I KNOW AND I DO #but also LoR sucks #and also that is missing THE ENTIRE POINT OF THIS RANT #the SAME THING IS GOING TO HAPPEN TO LEGENDS OF RUNETERRA #maybe not soon #but it WILL die someday #and be gone forever #because it isn’t being preserved #Text Essay

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rawritzrobin · 23 days

Text

The Waynes: Chapter 9

Title: The Waynes

Pairing: Mobster!Jason Todd x Reader

Warnings: Some roughhousing. Nothing too crazy.

Summary: You attend the gala. Your relationship becomes public. Everything was going great, until you catch the eyes of a certain man.

A/N: I know, its been forever. I'm still working on this. The days are just getting harder to get through. But ill make it. (:

Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added!): @msghostface @khaylin27 @thequeenofbigmacs @escapism-r-us @orighami @neobreakmyback @bubbles-incorrect-yb @hypnobanditprofessorhorse-blog @attllas @comic-cat83 @mommyneytiri @aerangi @thegreawizards @baebeepeach @slitheringss @xoxoyourdoll @portrait-ninja @sunflowertardis @anime-lover-forever-1127 @wrldwidemind @dopedreamobject @jayroytodd @vanessa-boo @ih4temy5elfs0b4d @solivagantlife @killerwendigo @deimks @writing-over-ashes

Chapter 9: Target Acquired

You couldn’t stop fidgeting in your seat. You have never been so nervous in your entire life. The dress you picked out was suddenly feeling super tight and uncomfortable, even though Jason had it tailored to fit you like a glove. It was a crimson red gown, with a pair of off shoulder straps that flowed gently down the side of your shoulder. You had never worn anything like this before. The store you went to didn’t even have prices on their items.

You could either afford their stuff, or you couldn’t.

Jason prepaid for everything, so you weren’t able to see the total for the dress and the shoes he had picked out for you. You knew one thing, it probably cost more than a year of rent based on the clientele you saw in the store.

You glanced over at Jason who had been on his phone for most of the night. He gave you the heads up work was going to be a bit crazier this month and that he would be semi distracted most of the time. You understood. He still tried to give you as much undivided attention as he could with you. You appreciated that.

You look out the window at the large buildings of Gotham that raced by you. The gala was taking place within Wayne Manor. You had never been to this part of Gotham before. Never really left the city. The buildings slowly started to be replaced with rows of trees. Soon, you were at the gates, your driver checking in with security.

“Nervous?” Jason asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. You turned around to face him. His full attention was on you now, his phone face down on his thigh.

“A little.” You admitted. You had never been to a gala before. Let alone a gala hosted by one of the richest men in the world at his own home. You stuck out like a sore thumb at the clothing store. You were sure the rich and powerful of Gotham would notice when lesser being was among them.

“What if I don’t fit in?” You say as you look down at your lap.

Jason took one of your hands and brought it up to his lips. He peppered soft kisses from your fingers up to your wrist. You blushed. Jason was a magician with his lips.

“You’ll be the most beautiful girl there.” He said with a grin. “Those Gotham socialites have nothing on you doll.”

Your nervousness lessened as you focused your attention on Jason’s soft touches. He had let go of your hand and placed it onto your thigh, squeezing it with reassurance. His attention turned right as you felt the car come to a stop. You looked out the window and saw the entrance to Wayne Manor in front of you.

One of the butlers opened the door for you. Jason stepped out first, and turned around to offer his hand. You took it, and took a deep breath before stepping out of the car. As soon as you left the car, thousands of camera flashes went off. It all came so suddenly, so you closed your eyes. Stars flooded your vision, even with your eyes closed. You felt Jason’s arm wrap around your waist and lead you forward. You opened your eyes slightly as you both made your way up the red carpet that lined the floor to the entrance of the manor.

“Sorry.” He said as he kept moving forward, away from the paparazzi. “I should have warned you. Those people are like vultures.” Jason knew that at least one of those photos was bound to make the front page. Once they find out that he was in a real relationship with Y/N. They would be the talk of the century. “Jason Todd, reckless Wayne heir, dating mystery girl.” At least now they would have a better excuse as to why Y/N would need a driver and a personal bodyguard.

Once you made it through the front door, your vision cleared up. In front of you was the most beautiful entrance you have ever seen. You had seen pictures of Wayne manor, with its beautiful architecture, in magazine articles. But those pictures had not done the home justice. It was beautifully decorated with thousands of flowers. It was only one month away from the holidays, so there were a bunch of what looked like elegant Christmas decorations strung around the foyer.

Everyone around you was dress to the nines. You caught the attention of a few older gentlemen as you and Jason made your way into the main ballroom. Jason didn’t miss those longing stares from those old creeps. He pulled you closer next to him and kept his hand on your waist as you two walked forward. But not before sending death glares to any and all men that looked at you for longer than a second.

Jason had a reputation. Everyone knew about his anger problems. Ever since he was little, he was in and out of the principal's office for starting fights. That reputation carried on into his adulthood as he was known to throw punches when the paparazzi got too close.

You were soon walking through the doors that opened up to the ballroom. You had to stop yourself from letting your jaw drop as you saw the beautiful ballroom. You mentally pinched yourself to make sure you weren’t dreaming.

The theme was white winter. The snow outside had not yet stuck, the fake snow within the ballroom looked so real. Hundreds of wealthy men and women gathered around. Some were already on the dance floor, elegantly doing the waltz. Others were mingling with each other, champagne in hand. You quickly noticed, almost all the attention in the room turned towards Jason whenever he made his way through the crowd. Standing at 6’4, he was one of the largest men in the room, especially given his stature. Charles trailed behind you, making sure no one bothered you two.

“Jaybird!” You heard a voice call towards Jason. You scanned through the crowd and saw a happily waving Dick Grayson on the other end of the room. Jason quickly turned towards a different part of the room, as you gave Dick a friendly wave. He laughed at Jason’s reaction, already knowing that Jason would turn away from him. He turned his attention to the woman next to him seeking attention.

You spent the next hour or so walking around meeting people. A few people were brave enough to introduce themselves to you. Most merely admired you two from a distance. Everyone was curious who you were. It was not everyday Jason Todd brought his girlfriend to a Wayne Gala. Jason never brought women to these events. This was the first, so it caught everyone's attention.

After eating a bit of food from the buffet, Jason took your hand and led you to another direction.

Jason made his way towards the bar, leading you through the crowds of well dressed people. As soon as he made his way towards the bar, he gestured to the seat in front of him. You took a seat, and he stood behind you, acting like a shield between you and the people around.

“The good stuff. Don’t skimp.” He said to the bartender who quickly ran towards you two. The guy smirked and quickly noticed Jason’s protective demeanor.

“Well well Todd. So the rumors are true.” He said.

Jason rolled his eyes. “Yeah yeah. I’m sure Roy told the entire world by now.” Jason said in a friendly tone. It was clear he knew this bartender. Jason acted differently around the people he knew. His tone said it all.

The bartender reached out a hand towards you. “I’m Andrew. Jason’s favorite person at any of these parties.” He said. You took his hand and shook it.

“I’m Y/N.” You said. Andrew smiled a friendly smile. One that made you feel safe.

“Some good stuff, coming up!” He said quickly, turning and disappearing into a door behind the bar.

Jason looked around the room, keeping one hand on your waist. His plan was to make sure he was seen with you, say hi to Alfred, knock back as many shots as he could, and head out. The longer he stayed, the more people tried to talk to him. He didn’t want to be here long enough for people to gain liquid courage from the free drinks.

As soon as Jason finished scanning the room, a voice broke through the crowd.

“Master Jason. So glad you and Y/N could make it.” Alfred said, Jason quickly turned around to see Alfred standing behind him. “It’s been a while since you attended one of these.” He said, a slight sense of joking in his voice.

Alfred turned his attention to you, and you put your arm out. “Nice to see you again Alfred.” You said with a smile. You had only met Alfred a few times, but his name floated around every so often. You knew he was the one who had his hands behind the scenes of Jason’s life.

Alfred took your hand and pressed a quick and polite kiss onto the top of your palm. “The pleasure is all mine. I am so happy you could make it.”

Just then Andrew returned. He made you jump a little as he did announce his return. “Ah Alfred. The man of the hour. Do you want a shot of the good stuff as well?” He asked, two bottles in his arms.

Alfred shook his head and chuckled. “Maybe later Mr. Andrew. I still have many guests to greet.” He turned to look at you once more and smiled. “It was very nice to see you again Ms. Y/N. Please do let me know if you need anything for your new home. Master Jason keeps his hope pretty empty. So let me know if you need something to make it more comfortable.” His comment was most sincere. You could feel a bit of warmth on your cheeks. You had still not gotten used to the fact that Alfred was a butler that took care of the Wayne family.

“Thank you Alfred.” You said with a grateful smile.

You could hear his name being called from a different direction. Alfred quickly bowed, and excused himself as he headed towards the direction his name was called.

Meanwhile, Andrew was in the middle of preparing two different drinks. One was in a champagne glass, which he handed to you. “My lady.” He said.

You took it and thanked him. Just a few moments later he handed Jason what looked like a glass of whiskey with a large ice ball in the middle. Without skipping a beat, Jason finished the glass. You knew he didn’t like social events. The drink was just to help with the nerves.

You took a sip of your drink. It was sweet, with a hint of bitter orange. It was some sort of bubbly champagne. You knew it was some sort of expensive alcohol.

You spent the next few minutes making small talk with Andrew. Jason knocked back more than a few drinks and was finally less tense. You could feel the muscles in his body loosen up as his grip on you soon followed. You understood his fear. You tried your best to help relax his body with a few light touches.

Jason’s phone buzzed a few times. Each time he would try to silence it, but after the fifth straight buzz, he reluctantly unlocked it. You could see him tense up again.

With a huge sigh, he turned to whisper something in your ear. “Sorry doll. Something came up. I have to make a quick phone call outside. Stay here for a bit yeah? It’s a little cold out there for you.”

You looked him in the eyes and nodded. He left after placing a gentle kiss onto the top of your head. As he walked away he met eye contact with Charles, who was standing a few feet away.

You turned your attention back to Andrew as you watched him prepare a medley of cocktails.

You were so immersed by Andrew’s tricks, you didn’t notice a pair of eyes that had been watching you all night. You had caught his eyes as soon as you walked in. That bright red dress that made you his target that night. What caught his eye even more was the man that was with you.

Mario Falcone. One of Falcones sons. One of the more unhinged children of the Falcone family. He always got what he wanted, and would stop at nothing to get it. Even if it meant starting a turf war. One of which he had always wanted to do with the Wayne family. As soon as you stepped into the picture that night, he had his eye on the prize. Even if he knew the prize belonged to a Wayne.

He watched you and Jason close. He knew which one of the men was your body guard. The man stood close and always had his eye trained on you. Just one. The Waynes were slipping, he thought to himself. Just one body guard for such precious cargo? This was going to be easy. He watched you for a while, and as soon as Jason stepped away he made his move.

He whispered into the ear of one of the many girls around him. The girl nodded and went straight toward where Charles was standing. Out of nowhere, the girl pretends to trip, and spills her drink right onto Charles. Mario began to move as he was distracted.

Andrew was in the middle of preparing a flaming cocktail. As he lit up the drink, your eyes did too as you watched the blue flame dance above the orange drink. You felt a pair of arms snake across your waist. You leaned into it, thinking it was Jason. But when a voice that wasn’t his said something into your ear, you jumped.

“Hey beautiful, can I get you a drink?” He asked.

Immediately you hopped off your seat, nearly falling to the floor. But you caught yourself before you fell flat on your butt. The heels weren’t doing anything for you right now. You turned to look at the man you thought was Jason. He was a regular man, dressed nicely in a dark gray suit. His accent you could make out was Italian you thought.

“Sorry. I thought you were someone else.” You said as you scanned the room for Jason. When you couldn’t find him you started to look for Charles. You noticed that he now had a bright red stain on the front of his shirt, and a girl was in front of him apologizing. He tried to push past her to get to the bar, but she kept dragging him the other way insisting on helping him clean up the mess she made. She had a few other girls with him, all directing him away from Y/N.

Just as you were about to turn and run towards Charles, you felt a hand grab your wrist. You turned around to pull away from the hand, but he held firm.

“Relax. I don’t bite. Let’s have one drink. Thats all I ask.”

You looked down at your hand, still pulling as hard as you could to get away from this stranger. “No thanks. I have a boyfriend.” You said. Hoping deep inside you that Jason was finished with his call and on his way back.

You turned around and this time met Charles’ eyes. He could see that you were in need of help, but he didn’t want to hurt any of the girls that were currently swarming him. Though after a few seconds, he began to use his brute strength to push them away.

“Y/N!” He called out, pushing through the crowd now. You could see people giving him dirty looks as he pushed through the group of girls surrounding him. He pushed so hard one of them fell on the floor. He didn’t look back.

You pulled towards Charles as he made his way towards you. As fast as the encounter had started, it ended just as quick. Charles was now gripping Mario’s wrist. It didn’t take much of Charles’ strength to get Mario to let go. Mario hissed in pain and took a step back as his men started to surround him. The room around them went silent as everyone knew who the two parties were.

Out of nowhere, Dick jumped in between Charles and Mario. “Hey now! Let’s not let this bring us down. Common! The music is playing, let's all hit the dance floor!” He said pushing Charles towards you as he tried to separate everyone before things escalated. You didn't even get a chance to turn back as you felt a tiny pair of hands take your hand. Damian grabbed your hand and started to lead you out of the ballroom. You quickly followed him down another set of halls past the door you had entered through. You turned around to see Charles following you both, his arms tucked into his jacket pocket. Behind him you noticed Step and Tim, who followed closely behind Charles.

Tim sped up to match Damian’s pace. “Steph is going to go find Jason. Let’s take her upstairs.” He said loud enough for you to barely hear.

Damian nodded, and kept dragging you forward. Charles turned around, and caught up with you. “Apologies Ms. Y/N. I am afraid those girls were in on it.” He said, shaking his head in disappointment. He should have seen it coming.

The four of you rounded a corner, and were soon met with a set of stairs. Damian let go of your hand, and went up the stairs. Tim stopped, and gestured up, letting you go up before him. He followed closely behind Charles.

After a few moments, Damian stopped in front of a large pair of doors. He pushed them open and the room lit up. It was a library. It was twice the size of Jasons. You were too confused to be excited about the sheer number of books inside these walls. You followed Damian inside, where he pointed to one of the large couches in the room. “Sit. Todd should be here soon.”

You took a seat, and looked around the large library. The fireplace tucked in the back was one of the largest fireplaces you had ever seen in your life. It looked like it could heat this whole house on its own. You felt Charles take a seat next to you. “Did he hurt you?” Charles asked nervously.

You looked up at him and shook your head. “No. Annoyed me is more like it.” You said nonchalantly not realizing who he just rescued you from. Charles let out a breath of relief, and stood up to guard the door. Tim took a seat on one of the couches across from you and pulled out his phone. “They’re coming.” He said to Damian. He turned to Charles who was still at the door. “Jason said get the car ready.” Charles nodded, and stepped through the large doors, closing it quietly behind him.

“Who was that guy?” You asked. Confused. Everyone in the room around you seemed to know who he was, except you.

“No one you need to worry about.” Tim said. “Just some creep.” You could sense their was a hint of hesitation in his voice. But you shrugged it off and went back to admiring the beautiful room you were in. You stood up from your seat, and started to read the names of the books around you. Damian watched you. His gaze going from you to the door.

After about 10 minutes, the door swung open, and an angry, but also worried Jason stepped through the door. Once he made eye contact with you, he rushed towards you and hugged you close.

“Sorry I was gone for so long. Something came up, so we are leaving.” He said. You nodded. You have had enough action for one night. You put the book you were looking at back on the shelf and followed Jason towards the door. Jason grabbed your hand and led you down the hall. He led you down a different set of hallways, away from the entrance it seemed. The manor was huge, and you would certainly get lost within its walls. At least Jason knew where he was going. He stopped in front of what looked like an elevator, and pressed it. The door opened to reveal none other than Bruce Wayne. Bruce stepped out of the elevator.

Jason didn’t even want to look him in the eyes right now. “Are you happy now? They know.” Was all he said before he pushed past Bruce and practically dragged you into the elevator.

The doors closed on a confused looking Bruce, and you two started to descend.

You could feel the tension in the elevator radiating off Jason. You shivered as the adrenaline was wearing off and you noticed it was freezing in the elevator. You moved closer to Jason and wrapped an arm around his waist. Jason instinctively shrugged off his jacket, and wrapped it around your shoulders. He rubbed your shoulder as he pulled you closer to him.

“Charles should be down with the car. I’m sorry we have to leave so early. I know you were having fun.” He said sadly.

“It’s okay! You said voice with relief. It was nice to see everyone tonight. Even if that creep did ruin the night.” You saw Jason’s jaw clench at the mention of the man. But he said nothing of it.

The elevator dinged and you stepped out into a large carport. Dozens of fancy cars surrounded a small driveway. A familiar car stood waiting for you two. Charles had the back door open, and helped you get in as Jason went in the other side.

The drive was quiet. Jason kept his arms around you as always. You could tell he was calculating something in his head. You wondered what came up that was so urgent you had to leave the gala without saying goodbye to Alfred.

As soon as you arrived home, you noticed a few more black SUV’s in the parking lot. You knew they all belonged to the Waynes as they had the signature Wayne family crest on their cars. The car came to a stop and soon the door on your side opened. You started to get out, but Jason’s grip on you tightend for a second. You turned around to face him.

He looked at you sadly. “You go up first tonight okay? I have some quick business at The Cave and then ill be back in a couple hours. Charles is coming with me, but I have some of my men here tonight to stand guard. Just in case.”

You were slightly concerned, but said nothing of it. You merely nodded, and leaned forward to kiss him. You stepped out of the car and he rolled down the window. “Go straight up and lock up. I’ll bring back some snacks and we can watch something before bed.”

“Sounds good.” You said cheerfully. “Love you Jay. Please be safe.”

Jason smiled back at you. “I will doll.” He said and blew a kiss towards you. “Be back in a jif.” He said as the car pulled away. You noticed there were several men in the parking lot with you. Some of which you recognized from The Cave. You scanned the necklace that contained the code to open the elevator, and the doors opened. One of the men followed you in, but the rest stayed behind.

“Would you like me to help you with anything?” The man asked.

You shook your head. “No, thank you. I think I am just going to take a shower.” You said as you made your way down the hallway. The man nodded, and stayed near the entrance of the penthouse. He turned to face the elevator door.

You made your way to the bedroom to pick out some sleeping clothes. You quickly decided that you would need to take a bath to soak your aching feet. You never wore heels, so being in such tall heels did a number on your feet. You sat in the tub for a while, looking out into the city. Thousands of lights shone brightly against the window.

You were once one of those tiny specs of light. Looking up at the tall buildings wondering how the other half lived.

This was your life now. Paparazzi, fancy galas, body guards. Every day you wondered if this was a continuation of a dream you never woke up from.

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