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thesoftestmess · 4 months

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this might not be canon, but personally i need furina to struggle a whole lot longer and harder with post-prophecy depression and mental illness. She's played the same tiring and painful act for five centuries, was constantly in a life or death scenario and had to hide her true self from the world the entire time and she won't just recover in a few years from that.

There's parts of her that will never ever be compatible with a simple human lifestyle, and parts of her that are irreparably broken. She isn't sure of her personality after everything that happened and the lie she had to live. She slips between personas and her archon temperament comes through like a defensive mechanism at any sign of conflict or trouble.

She's plagued by nightmares. Of the flood, of the trial, of the people closest to her conspiring against her behind her back, and of being found out in a million terrible ways. Of saying the wrong thing, making a wrong decision. Of being found out, of being found out, of being found out.

Lying or keeping a secret feels existential still. Being honest still feels life threatening sometimes. Putting herself first feels like putting both hands on a hot stove.

She doesn't live in the palais anymore, doesn't have to sit through trials anymore, but her heart and soul are still there. In her dreams she's still at the place she spent her entire life's memories at.

Yes, she can make new memories, but it'll take time. More time than she has, maybe, now that she's the closest to being human she'll ever be.

She'll never be human in the way the people around her are.

What sort of human has 500 years worth of memories after all? What human tells personal anecdotes and mixes up their centuries?

What sort of human can feel the absence of their divinity like it's a physical thing? A voice that will never speak to her again, or keep her alive? What human has no family, no childhood?

What human remembers so little, but still remembers death somewhere deep within?

She jerks out of sleep from it sometimes, gasping for air, and spends the rest of the night awake, almost frozen by fear. The flood is over, but it's hard to convince her racing heart that the danger is too.

Humans have entire family trees that go generations back, but Furina was put into this world a solitary creature, her blood heavy with sin ever since she turned human.

She owns a hydro vision now and doesn't know how to yield it, but the ocean still calls out to her some days. Sea creatures flock to her like they can smell she's not human enough.

She learns how to make little hydro companions for herself, so the darkness and emptiness of her apartment feels less ominous when she lies awake at night.

She can't turn her vision into a weapon quite yet, but when it rains the droplets seem to cling to her. She's watched them roll upwards along her arm, watched them gather in her palm like kin. She wonders if sea creatures flock to neuvillette in a similar way, or if his immense power makes them recoil. She wonders if elemental dragons can feel regret. Wonders if he, too, ever feels entirely foreign in that human body he was given. If he, too, lies awake trying to grasp faint memories of a past life.

She's extremely human in the way she's plagued by body pains from not being able to relax just one day in five centuries. The years catch up with her once she gets out of survival mode, and fatigue is a constant companion now. Sleep comes difficultly and getting out of bed was easier when the fate of a whole nation depended on it. On her. She's never lived for just herself before and some days she's not sure she wants to.

She did her duty and earned her retirement and the story turned out well, all things considered. She still has people by her side, some of them.

Still, she feels raw and tired and overwhelmed by the life lying ahead of her. As a human and as someone who will always be Something Else.

#you can have your perfectly competent fully healed hyper independent furina #if i can have my mess of a person multiply-disordered and trying her best furina #like i'm sorry but this babygirl can fit sooooo much ptsd and depression and personality disorder into her #that's a girl with lifelong chronic pain from not being allowed to relax for a day in five centuries #that's a girl who needs a teeth protector at night because she'd grind he #*them into a fine powder from all the tension she still holds #that's someone who gets so low so suddenly and loes all her joy in the matter of minutes #that's someone who wants to catch up on a lifetime of being human but is bone-deep exhausted #and crushed by fatigued #my disability beam went all over her like neuv's water gun #now she's sopping wet and shivering i'm sorry #genshin impact #furina #fari talks fic

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olwrat · 5 months

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Three hours later...

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kiraman · 24 days

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vi is so fucking fascinating to me, I am studying her like a bug in a jar

she was a CHILD putting on her father's gauntlets in spite of the fear gathered in her little body, in spite of just witnessing someone she's known all her life die in a HORRIFIC way (benzo), still she rises, still she says I HAVE TO DO THIS still she takes on men three times her size and fucks them up so bad that silco has to send his shimmered up fucked up monster to try to stop her and STILL she persists, indifferent to the worst happening because she’s survived the worst already. furious and unstoppable and determined to do whatever she has to survive and ensure those she loves survive, no matter the cost.

vi under all that debris, bruised, bleeding, screaming, watching her family die, staring at the monkey head in shock and crying because this can't be happening, they were so close...

sobbing in pain until her father saves her just to watch helpless as he dies protecting her. they were so SO CLOSE to surviving, so close to escaping and everything gets ripped away in a second

vi trapped in that prison cell for years and years on end with the ghosts of her family and her guilt for company, drowning in guilt, wondering if her sister's still alive, no doubt thinking about how she LET her slip right through her fingers

the last thing vander said to her was "take care of powder"

she's let the man who's her FATHER and loves more than anything down.

"whatever happens is on you" / "protect the family" / "take care of powder" .... but she can't, not anymore, she's fucked it up and let everyone down (re "I should have been there for you, for everyone") all she can do is sit in that shitty prison cell, on that freezing floor, hungry, bloody, counting the hours until she can somehow rescue powder

Vi is piercings and tats that no doubt got infected, she's a child becoming a woman too fast, she is a danger-zone high-risk disaster area and won't back down, won't give up.

Vi is soft!! self-sacrificing, protective, supportive. ("You wanna talk about today?", "We've all had bad days, but we learn, and we stick together") brave, SMART, witty. she's got a tongue sharp as her fists and a barbed, delicious sense of humour. she gives people nicknames (cupcake, pow pow, pretty boy) and fights with everything that she's got to protect what she loves!!!! she is her father's daughter!!!

she is idealistic and expects the world to see her reason, look at things through her eyes and wanna make a change ( "This is how things are, how they've always been. I was so stupid to think it could change. / "oil and water that's all there is" )

and yes! vi is not flawless. she's obsessive (re sevika. to her eyes she is the last thing standing between her and silco/getting to silco and saving jinx) and complicated, morally ambivalent because she makes mistakes, flies off the handle like a comet crashing through everything in her way, makes reckless choices because she has to. she is selfish when it comes to jinx and would do anything to keep her safe.

also

look at the way she hugs the people she cares about!!!

#“vi left powder” LISTEN vi was a baby too!! she just witnessed her entire family DIE. for the second time.#she was SHOCKED and traumatized! she left for one MINUTE and was dragged away to a shitty hole even deeper than the one shes grown up in!#“she keeps going after sevika” LOOK idk how to tell you that sevika represents the ultimate betrayal to her idealistic ass #also i love how BADASS she is yet her inability to let things GO and #furious dedication to jinx gets her in so much trouble.#that cait ends up having to save this dramatic damsel in distress from herself like! THEIR DYNAMIC #UGHHHH I LOVE HER BYE she is everything to me #vi arcane #arcane vi #arcane brainrot tag #arcane #one girl wrecking crew

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bekaterrier · 5 months

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Looking for a gift for the podcast lover in your life? Why not get them a podcast-inspired handmade bracelet? Until the end of the year, my gift to all the podcast lovers out there is 15% off any of my podcast bracelets!

Bracelet designs based on additional shows can be found on my Etsy. Check it out!

https://bekasbeadshop.etsy.com?coupon=PODCASTLOVE

#podcast piece #girl in space #caravan podcast #moonbase theta out #the penumbra podcast #midnight burger #the pasithea powder #the strange case of starship iris #re: dracula #where the stars fell #desperado podcast #wolf 359 #sidequesting #bekaterrier #my jewelry #handmade jewelry #wire knitting #bracelets #audio drama

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thephantom · 9 months

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Who was that shape in the shadows? Whose is the face in the mask?

Featuring Anouk Van Laake and Jon Robyns. @shakeatradefeather's master.

#*mine #anouk van laake #jon robyns #potoedit #phantom of the opera #the phantom of the opera #poto west end #poto london #DARLING BABY GIRL WHO'S NEVER DONE ANYTHING WRONG IN HER ENTIRE LIFE #she just unknowingly set off a powder keg...#how could she have known???

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pale-grunge-dark · 1 year

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popsixsquishcicerolipschitz · 10 months

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Movie Star Powder - Sheer Elegance Poster Print By Alberto Vargas

#Movie Star #Powder #Movie Star Powder #Sheer Elegence #Poster #Poster Art #Poster Print #Alberto Vargas #Vargas Girl #pngKIT

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backstabber128 · 3 months

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Here's a part 3 of this shameless Zaundad modern au bc I needed more fluff in my life 👍

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ghosted-jazz · 2 years

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My favourite crazy ex-soulmate

#double life smp #double life spoilers #pearlescentmoon #scott smajor #Been doing dl designs based on romance tropes and ig divorce quartret high school trope also became part slasher film #Blame 'final girl' for coming onto my spotify shuffle. Pearl can be a masked killer- as a treat #its almost 5am here too- gotta go to bed before i jump into some powdered snow to hurt my soulmate #tw knife #my art

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anwarism · 4 months

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After so many animals painted I wanted to get back to my girls. So I started to doodle some of the Arcane girls when they were kids/teens 😆

#arcane #arcane fanart #doodle #arcane girls #arcane vi #arcane mel #arcane caitlyn #arcane powder #arcane ren #first time I drew young Mel and Ren #i love this brush

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powderblueblood · 4 months

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omg can we see lacys dad being arrested? or maybe her first day back at school since it happened and everyone knows it was eddies dad that took him down?

CAN YOU FUCKING EVER!!!!!!!! i accidentally wrote 2k words on this because i cannot be normal about lacy, ever. should also mention that her father's name is mentioned in this. also, thank you for sending this in! it makes me real happy to know that people are interested in the background of the verse!!! *part of the hellfire & ice universe, obviously

You learned about guilty omniscience from your father.

The night that red and blue lights descended over your house in Loch Nora–a cage of relative opulence–your father was sitting in his favorite chair, drinking the aged scotch that he only brought out around his birthday. His suit was pressed. His hair shined, the salt-streaks of gray that ran like lightning shocks across his skull sharpened up against the light. His class ring from Hawkins High, which you always told him was tacky, tapped against the crystalline glass. Ting. Ting. Ting. Waiting.

Your father is the kind of man that carries himself impeccably, every single detail forethought.

Even this one. He knew when they were coming.

Like a fucking white collar soothsayer.

That always made your blood run cold.

Then again, from the minutiae that you were able to squeeze out of your mother throughout the course of his trial, this charge was a while in the making. He could have heard that they were closing in on a capture, so he made sure to wear his best three-piece.

At first, you thought the police car was for you. You had spent the entire weekend out with Carol and Cass– cruising around on a cloud of heady adolescent nonchalance, which also could have been the weed that Munson kid sold you. The three of you had approached him, slinking around the abandoned starcourt mall like a trio of vipers.

Some rum and Coke in a Big Gulp had helped soften out the sleaziness of the parking lot. You were all moving a little slower than usual.

Munson had looked at you–you especially–with some potent mixture of fear and resignation.

“Half ounce for thirty?” he’d said, and you’d heard the grit in his teeth. Ooh. He had some kind of principles when it came to selling to people he didn’t like.

“That’s an upcharge,” you’d rasped back, leaning out of the back seat of Cass’s convertible.

Cass, who was oddly fidgety, looked back and shook her head. “Let’s just get out of here.”

Munson clicked his tongue. “That’s inflation. Cost of livin’s crawling up.”

“For you, maybe,” you muttered and the girls snickered.

You turned back to him again, finding him glowering, brow all set and heavy. You understood why people thought he was frightening– the rumors of cult activity, animal sacrifices, ties to biker gangs, plus the garden variety he’s just a pervert! type of shit. But nothing scared you. Not then.

You were bulletproof.

“You can do better than that.”

His stare met yours. Heavy, like a door that wouldn’t nudge open. “No can do.”

People rarely said no to you, either. Not then. It made you drop back into your seat like the spoiled brat you were, unimpressed.

“What if we said you could come smoke with us?” Carol chirped from beside you in the back, just mockingly enough to go somewhat undetected. “You’d give us a discount then, right?”

Cass spun around in the passenger seat and smacked Carol on the arm, hissing, “Shut the fuck up!”

Carol was all, ow, what’s your problem?! I was kidding… but your head lolled against the leather headrest. You peered at him over your shades. His jaw tensed and winched, an active attempt at biting his tongue. You could see that he was begging for this humiliation to end.

Despite all the hearsay, he was just some pathetic kid. And he clearly needed the money, or he’d have told you all to fuck off by now.

“I don’t smoke with trailer trash,” you’d drawled. Pulling the tension, just because you could.

“Thirty,” he said again, tone hard. “Take it or leave it.”

You shrugged at the other girls, reaching for your purse. “Well, we know he doesn’t take Mastercard, so…”

You had spent the following forty-eight hours attempting to drag yourself down from the paranoia that set in after your first joint. God, you were fucking horrendous at smoking weed. Still are. Everything was a threat; every sidelong glance from Cass, every hyena-like laugh from Tommy. You tried to stick it out and be cool and be normal for as long as you could, but the next thing you knew, it was Sunday night and you were sneaking back home through the backyard.

Your feet had just gotten a hold on the trellis you usually snuck down from when you saw the glimmer of red and blue flashes from out front. Shit. Your mother, your vengeful mother must have followed through on that missing person threat, because she knew that the only way to get to you was through a display of public embarrassment.

This maelstrom of irony is what we call karma.

At the head of the stairs, you prepared to edge your way down to the white-hot rage of your parents and the eye-rolling of whatever beat cops were unfortunate enough to have responded to the call. But police chief Jim Hopper's gravelly, monotonous voice carried remarkably well from your foyer. You heard your father’s name and your throat went dry.

“... you are under arrest for embezzlement, fraud, conspiracy to distribute illegal narcotics–”

“This is ridiculous! You have no idea what you’re doing–Jim, can’t you do something!”

A starchy, federal-sounding tone cut right through your mother as you raced down the stairs, panic tightening your windpipe. “Ma’am, we would really appreciate your cooperation–!”

“Cooperation with what?!”

“Mom?”

“These charges are bullshit!”

“Mom!”

She looked right through you, right to your father, as she always does–did. And your father, with his expression a kind of bemused smile despite the cuffs binding his hands behind his back, looked at you. He usually wore some kind of sheen for you; of pride, mostly. But now, his eyes were empty and deep and bore through you like a blade.

Tears trickled past your waterline though you didn’t even feel them building. On instinct, your hand dashed to wipe them away– despite your confusion, you knew he didn't like that kind of pitiful display.

“Daddy, what is going on?” you asked, and your voice was embarrassingly thick. Two of Hawkins PD’s finest slowly muscled him to the door, one dark-suited agent taking up the rear; he wasn’t putting up a fight in the slightest. Confident in this being a big misunderstanding, you were sure.

“Game face, Lacy. for god’s sake.”

As he passed Chief Hopper, who stood in your doorway and exuded a puzzling kind of aura, he stopped. Looked right into the cop’s face, with a kind of seething glare you’d never even imagined he could muster.

“To whom do I owe this pleasure, chief?”

“Don’t start this, Ray,” Hopper says, voice echoing tones of disappointment.

Your father’s voice dropped, dangerous and personal.

“Now, Jim–you really think that’s a fair thing to say to a man in handcuffs? Because it looks like somebody already got the jump on me.”

“This doesn’t end well for either of you, you know that.”

“Well, you be sure to pass that along to Al Munson next time you see him.”

Munson. Your blood chilled and you instinctively grabbed for your mother’s arm, before she could start after them.

“This is insane! This is in-sane– my husband is a beloved member of this community and–”

“Mom,” you said, rounding on her with a vice grip. Tears sparkled on the very precipice of your lashes but you willed them not to drop. “Keep that up and you’ll be in that squad car with him. You want that?”

She exhaled, and you loosened your hand to stroke her arm– attempting to approximate something like comfort. Not like either of you were any good at it. Snapping back around to where Hopper was just vacating your porch, you followed him and called, “When can we see him?”

“After questioning,” Hopper grumbled back, looking over his shoulder to size you up. He paused. Pulled out a cigarette. “Calm your mother down. But bring a lawyer.”

“Surely we don’t–” you started, but he steamrolled you.

“Bring. A lawyer.”

Eyes followed your father to the squad car, with its offending flashing lights making a mardi gras mockery of this moment of shock. Something wasn’t right– something really wasn’t right, but you couldn’t yet put your finger on it. Your mom wasn’t wrong; your father was an upstanding member of the community. A real estate mogul (as much as one can be in small town Indiana), a philanthropist, a generous investor…

Yours weren’t the only eyes watching from a porch. The surrounding neighbors had likely caught the reflections of the lights in their evening glasses of cabernet and come out for a peep– police cars were a rare sight in Loch Nora. So rare, it begot rubbernecking.

Your stomach leadened. In your minds eye, you saw the Hawkins’ phone tree light up like Christmas. News of this would have reached your homeroom by morning.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck fuck– and that haunting of a name ringing in your ears. You be sure to pass that along to Al Munson next time you see him.

It keeps on fucking ringing as you screech into an empty spot in the parking lot, leaving your car skewed over two spaces. You didn’t care, you hadn’t slept, you couldn’t think about anything else other than your poor father in that questioning room and your poor mother crying her eyes out over a bottle of beaujolais no matter how much you told her to lay off and that sinking feeling that something was terribly, awfully wrong.

It’s not that you believed what the police had said. You didn’t, of course you didn’t! You’d stake your life, your future, which you were so painstakingly building, on the fact your father was innocent. That he was a good man– but what had Eddie Munson’s shitheel father got to do with any of this? what could this Al Munson possibly get out of slinging false accusations?

Took exactly twenty four hours after that first pitiful day at school for the Al Munson factor to come to light. At first, you friends didn’t really know what to say– they handled it by kind of avoiding it, not entirely sure whether they should bring it up, even though you knew that they knew. And that they were frothing at the mouth to know more.

But after Munson Senior was a confirmed player in the scene (“Probably running his mouth about it in every shithole watering hole this hole of a town has to offer!” your mother had tearfully exclaimed), interest was piqued.

"Like, what was your dad doing messing with a Munson? How does he even know him?"

And the fact that you shut down almost every question with an, “I don’t know yet, we have to wait and see,” meant that rumors started to spread about what your dad had done. Nasty rumors. Violent ones.

Worst of all were the ones that painted Al Munson like some bad guy turned good, a victim of some thuggish mafioso taking advantage of underprivileged people in your poor, fair town!

It made you sick. literally. You puked many times, and regained your composure, and went back out to listen to the rumor mill churn again.

Motherfuckers. Pitiful motherfuckers. Something your father would mumble on the rare occasions you’d seen him really get angry. They have no idea what it takes to build something in a world like this.

Once, completely lost in this thought, you ran headfirst into the person whose two cents you wanted the least– but who seemed to know exactly how he was implicated in this situation.

Munson Junior jumped back in the hallway, as if you’d zapped him. If you had, you would have aimed to kill.

“Listen, I–”

“Don’t,” you warned, stalking around him. You never had words for this fucking loser; you weren't about to start then.

“I just want–”

“No.”

“–to say,” and something turned in his tone as he started to follow you down the hallway; something foul sprouted out of it, twisted and jagged and angry, “that I know times are real tough right now– and money’s probably tight! I heard the IRS are on their way? Anyway, those court appointed lawyers really ain’t the worst things in the world… my dad only got sentenced, like, four out of five times! I'm sure your pops will be fine.”

A beat shuddered between you. You stopped in your tracks.

“They love pretty boys like him in prison,” Munson finished, a self-satisfied smile dripping around his words.

It took everything, and I mean everything, not to turn around and use your manicured nails to rip clean through Eddie Munson’s jugular.

“All the money in the world won’t save him from getting fucked like he deserves.”

A shallow breath drawn in, shuddering some. You tossed your head over your shoulder and let your narrowed eyes drill into him until discomfort started pressing on the moment, like a boot to the neck. That same hollow-eyed stare. You inherited a lot of things from your father.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “Who are you?”

#powder room talk #Anonymous #hai brainrot #e. munson by powder #blurbs #published by powder #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #god the lore i do it for the lore the lore the lore #like lacy was a bad bad girl and played on indignity because it was one of her greatest fears too for fucksake for fucskaekeeeee #i love that you give a fuck about this thank you #l. doevski by powder

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