#Verse: SPACE ACE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

goldengirlls · 2 years

Text

security tape

pairings — beefy!biker!bucky x fem!reader

warnings — dom!bucky, unprotected sex, breeding kink, lap dances, talks of sex tapes/pictures/audios, dumbification, beard burn, mentions of balls, oral fem receiving, daddy kink, exhibitionism/public sex, dirty talk, spit kink and cum play

summary —only for our eyes.

wc — 3.2 k

authors note — AHH !!! OVER 2.5 K OF YOU BABIES!!! LOVE U ALL SO MUCH !!!! SO IN HONOR OF THAT, HERES THE FIRST INSTALLMENT OF MY NEW AU VERSE !!! will be part of the for our eyes only verse

࿐ m.list 🂱 s.stan list

“Well look who finally decided to make an appearance.” Bucky’s voice rang through the beer infused air, back pressed back up against the dark color cushion and behind the wooden table that was littered with papers, a screen and a nearly finished glass of bourbon. The hum of the ice makers coming to life and the music fading from one song to another.

A sympathetic and amused look, thrown in his direction as your legs took you to stand in front of the table. Hands pressing themselves against the cool wood table and resting your body against them.

“I told you I’d be here around six.” Leaning further on to the table and at the pout forming against his lips and the space growing larger between his hairline and eyebrows.

He scoffs at the audacity, looking at his watch, “Yeah, a whole forty seven minutes after.” Firm glare or what was trying to be, but the glimmer of his midnight eyes proving otherwise that he was happy you were here, with him where you where were suppose to be.

“Yeah ‘s in the general area of six.” You protest while holding back the laugh that you so desperately wanted to let go off at how childish the six foot four leather clad biker was being about this.

His arms uncross from one another and his lip untucked itself from his pearl white teeth. Not saying a word as he slid out of the booth and over to the low lit bar where the open bottle of bourbon sat, pouring himself another glass.

It was comical when you really thought about it. The six foot something tattooed cover biker with a sour look and grumbling under his breath. To anyone and everyone else he was labeled as grumpy and scary, but to you— he was a big softy, with a weak spot for you.

Making your way over to him, you squeezed your body between him and the cool wooden bar, doe eyes already begging for forgiveness, “‘M sorry. I didn’t mean to be late. I, uh got distracted.” Tucking your lip between your teeth, your cheeks growing warm at the faint thought of what made you late.

Grabbing his attention, the midnight eyes searched your face for an answer to said distraction. The pink dusted cheeks— warm to the touch, the dazey hooded glimmer in your eyes and the slightly ruffled hair was drawing a conclusion, but couldn’t quite draw a conclusion.

Then, with one last sweep over your enhanced features, it all clicked.

Bucky biting back a smile— or a smirk, “Distracted?” His voice dropping low and hands bruising your hips as he deposits you up onto the bar. “Care to explain, Ace.” Glimmer of hope you’d spill all the details he was desperately trying play in his mind.

“Uh, I couldn’t find my keys.” That was believable.

“Really?” His hands trailing up your bare legs, only covered by a denim cladded mini skirt. “When I left an hour before you, could’a sworn the were on the gold dish on the counter.” Challenging you.

Your eyes growing ten times in size, “I, uh mean my wallet. Yeah, couldn’t find my wallet.” The goosebumps rising the closer he got to the hem of your mini skirt. Fingers playing with the distressed material as he hummed at your answer — not believing your words for a moment.

Bringing your body closer to him, his lips hovered over yours, “Sure it wasn’t something else that made you late?” Bourbon mixed with mint meeting your cotton candy like lips, “Maybe something like on your phone.”

Wicked, delicious and a dangerous game.

One of Bucky’s ring cladded, tattooed hand leaving your thigh as it met the heat of your cheek, thumb brushing against the high point, encouraging your answer, “How’d you figure it out.” Sheepishly asking with a glimmer of pride.

“Cause ‘m usually the one makin’ you look that way.”

“Bucky!” A hand meeting his concrete shoulder, doe eyed and face warmer than before and far pinker.

“Love it when ya scream my name.” Smiling before pressing his lips against yours. Bucky’s tattooed hands seemed to have a mind as they wandered around your body, meeting your legs , under your skirt and ever so lightly ghosting against your thighs which elicited a moan letting him deepen the kiss and sliding his tongue into your mouth.

A fucking dream come true. His best girl — perched on the bar, leather jacket and all, nape of the neck exposed for his lips, sloppy kisses and even messier hands.

“Which video did ya watch?” Bucky spoke against your lips, trailing down your jaw and to the column of your neck, a trail of destruction everywhere his lips connected to your skin.

“I— the one of us after Sam’s house party.” Gasping out when his teeth grazed your skin. “Y’know the one where you tore my panties right in half.”

“Didn’t seem to mind when I made you cum four different times that night.” He hums against you, eyes gleaming with pride when he met your eyes that were watching his every move.

Four years of love and two years of living together. Soulmates. Complete opposites, but alike in many ways.

A crisp autumn night, layered in a waffle white long sleeve tucked away in a leather jacket with light washed denim jeans. One too many tequilas as your sneaker cladded feet took you to the very man that you’d come home to every night and show you how much he loved you every morning. And Bucky thanked his lucky stars every day for those doe eyes and wicked tongue.

You fell hard and fast for the six foot something, leather wearing, tattoo covered biker.

Neither one of you loving someone the way you loved each other. Day in and day out proving your worth to one another.

“‘Specially when I did that thing with my tongue.” He mumbles out, his forefinger running between your wet folds followed by many curse words.

You gasped out a string of incoherent words when his cold rings could be felt when his finger dipped into your messy hole.

“Gonna let me wreck you.” Other ring adorned hand squeezing your bare thigh, voice dangerously low and the midnight eyes pleading for your acceptance. “Let me destroy this little pussy. Make her cry and squirm.” Retracting his finger to bring to his lips— tasting his favorite thing.

“Sweeter than ever.” He hummed out pressing his lips against yours so you could taste you on his lips. “And always so messy for me, for daddy.”

“Bucky.” You whine grinding against his jeans, trying to alleviate the ache between your legs. The pleading, close to pathetic look you were giving him was enough for him to flip your skirt up and blow against your puffy pussy. “Don’t tease me, touch me.” Lips pouty and prominent with the taunting promise of watching them quiver.

“Yeah? Want me to make ya sing, baby? Play with her all night? Make her weap and cry till she can’t take it anymore?”

A moan escapes from your bruises lips with a nod and eyes fluttering closed.

“Gonne let me eat your pussy, baby? Know you’re gonna be my good girl for daddy tonight.” He questions licking his lips as his eyes follow your glistening pussy, “Shit, baby. A drippin’ mess, s’all for me? Needs me that bad, huh?”

Nodding your head in response, your walls clench around his forefinger and middle finger, your head becomes even fuzzier when his lips connect with your clit as his tongue begins spelling words that word spoken between the two of you.

“Got the prettiest fuckin’ pussy ever. Can’t wait to show you what she looks like when ‘m done with her tonight.”

Your senses are in overdrive. Hypersensitive. And when his beard brushed against your folds the most pornographic sounds falls from your bruised lips and he inserts a second and a string of saliva leaving his lips runs against your folds to your hole.

It’s filthy and delicious.

The pathetic whimpers leaving your mouth mixed with the wetness from your pussy and the moans from Bucky are driving you closer to the edge.

“D— Daddy, ‘m gonna cum.” You cry out, squeezing your legs around his head, only making him shove his face further into your sensitive pussy. “Don’t stop, please.” Whining out rubbing your face against his mouth and beard. The burn of his hair increasing the pleasure and without a doubt leaving the promise of him on you tomorrow.

Bucky’s tongue laid flat against your clit, his eyes connecting to yours holding eye contact telling you to cum, to be his good girl. He’s desperate to taste you — your warm cream filling his mouth. He needs you spread on his beard and he’s begging for it with every lick and curl of his finger.

A few more swipes of his tongue — spelling his name, the promise of coming home and the curl of his cool cladded fingers brushing against your spongy spot was enough for you to cum, squirming against him as you see the stars.

Bucky continues to clean you up. Never missing a drop of the warm cream lapping up every last drop. Standing tall and proud with a smirk plastered on his lips, noticing how floaty and fucked out you already look.

Your slick glistening against his beard, swollen pillow like lips and blown pupils, “Think ya can give me another on, baby?” Bucky husks out, nudging his nose against yours — smelling you on him.

Your eyes lashes flutter close when your lips meet his, moaning into his mouth with the taste of you on the tip of his tongue, as you palm at the prominent bulge hidden beneath his jeans.

The zipper makes a loud, thick sound, as your hands find the bottom of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head— only left in your mini skirt when his angry cocks’ finally able to breathe.

“Shit— gettin’ pretty everytime I see you.” The butterflies soaring in your stomach when you feel the mushroom leaky tip drag up and down the reminiscence of the mess he created earlier before he eases the head into your sore but desperate hole.

“Just stretched her out this morning, how’s she this tight already.” Bucky continues, “Guess ‘ll have to fix that, seein she’s gonna suck me back in everytime I pull out.” Bottoming out — pelvis to pelvis, chest to chest.

“Gonna fuckin’ ruin her and you, baby. Gonna have her a weapin mess, beggin’ me for more after I fill her up.” Bucky states as he slams in and out of you at a bruising but promising speed.

Bucky fucks into you as if his life depends on it. His midnight eyes connecting where his cock meets your needy hole, moaning when he sees himself covered in your slick. Bucky’s balls slapping against your ass as words fall from his lips when he feels you suck him in and clench around him.

He pounds into you relentlessly, the girth is snug and length is delicious. His bulbous tip brushing against your g’spot, the delivering of every thrust is deliberate and tasteful. He’s demanding you feel everything that makes his cock — veins, crevice and mushroom tip.

“Daddy needs you to be a good girl. He needs ya to drench his cock. Need ya to make a slutty mess, c’mon I didn’t fuck you that stupid, yet. Cum for me. Make a mess so daddy can make a mess in you.” Bucky states, eyebrows furrowed, cock slipping in and out of you.

His balls are heavy. Begging for a release. Begging to fill your silky creamy walls. Needing it.

“Be a messy slut and cum for me.” Buckys fingers start rubbing your little clit, in small deliberate circles, as you moan loudly clenching his cock like a vice making his balls tighten and body tighten.

Your legs to shake and spazz around his thick thighs, as your pussy wheeps and creams around his cock riding out your orgasm.

“Good girl, baby, fuck, gonna cum.” Bucky moans ropes of his seed shot from his bulbous tip, spewing into your bruised and velvet like walls, flooding your pussy to the brim, riding out his and your orgasms.

A few moments of labored breaths and stolen kisses, he slowly slides himself out, careful to not let anything spill out. His fingers coming down to collect the cum that’s dripped out, collecting it and running his fingers along the rim of his glass— a promise to taste you the rest of the night.

“I have to save some of you for later Ace” Licking his lips and fingers once done.

Tucking himself away and helping you collect yourself you catch that lovestruck boyish look he’s given you a million times.

He cups your cheeks, cold rings flushed against your pink cheeks, keeping you close to his heart and the steady thumps beating at the same rate. Passionate and messy. Desperate and yearning. Actions speaking louder than words. Each kiss expressing the impact and heaviness of his love. Everything pouring into this kiss.

“Much as I love those sweet lips, gotta get ready to open the bar.” Speaking lowly and with a huff. Meeting your eyes as he leaned down for one last kiss.

“Oh and Ace,” Your eyes connect with his, your head titling to the side — indicating for him to continue, “Can’t wait to watch the security tape later.” His tongue licks the rim slowly and deliberately as he goes to get the supplies to clean the counter.

taglist: @mackenzielovee @r0und3bitch @glitterandsparklessss @onmykneesforrafe

1K notes · View notes

aroacehanzawa · 1 year

Text

On Dazai, his heartrate, The Book, BEAST, and metanarratives (or: how we may or may not already know how it all ends)

Have you noticed that in the opening of season 4, Dazai is the only one who is shown to mouth along to the lyrics? Specifically, he mouths along to the last part of the line that goes something along the lines of "The context in which my soul beats, turn it into a heartbeat" (魂が打つ文脈、鼓動に変えてしまえよ (source)).

This is interesting, because as Ango established in episode 11, Dazai has been communicating with the outside world by adjusting his heartrate to encode deciphered messages. And i hate this plot point with a passion, hated it when it came up in the manga and still hate it after the latest episode, so i will cope by doing the following in this 3k word essay (which i wrote in about 5 hours on the day i have an actual real-world deadline):

Trying to figure out 1) what this skill of Dazai implies about his character and role in the overall story, and 2) how this implication is supported by the lyrics of the opening theme, "True Story" by SCREEN MODE, and 3) how this opening suggests a more intricate connection between BEAST and the main timeline, and 4) what all of this means for the current arc, the overall story, and the author(s).

I. The heartrate gimmick

The reason why i'm so put off by Dazai's superhuman ability to control his own heartrate is that this is the first time in the series where something significantly breaches the realm of plausibility which has so far been established in the universe of bsd. However, that in itself means that it may be a hint to a much bigger picture.

To start with, we've seen that human biology in bsd verse still follows the rules of our own world, and any anomalies can typically be explained by abilities, such as Kenji's superstrength. The same goes for non-human anomalies: instead of outright breaking the laws of known science, they are either some kind of manifestation of abilities or otherwise derived from abilities, such as skill weapons (like Well's time-manipulating camera, or Fukuchi's space-time sword. The plot of Fifteen and Stormbringer, even.)

Even Dazai and Fyodor's galaxy brain moments generally fall into the realm of possibility, like Fyodor memorising all the cards in Ace's deck based on their scratch marks, or Dazai predicting Sigma's rock-paper-scissors moves with Sherlock Holmes-esque deduction skills. (Dazai and Fyodor communicating in code based on their past conversations is something more unbelievable, so for now i'm putting that in the same category of unexplainable as Dazai's heartrate trick.)

The thing that bothers me is this: Ango says that Dazai's heartbeat trick is something only he can do, but it clearly doesn't fall in the realm of biologically possible as we know it (controlling heartrate to some extent maybe, but being able to encode complex messages like that?). We also already know Dazai's ability, so it can't be related to that. (Or do we? Dazai's ability in itself is a paradox, a non-ability, and that arguably places him outside the circle of typical ability-users.)

Now, when it comes to things that have gone beyond the general level of plausibility in bsd, it could be said that they are all somehow related to The Book: the reality-altering that took place when the ADA got framed, Sigma's existence and the Sky Casino, and BEAST. The island on which Yosano was stationed is possibly also related to The Book, as it apparently came out of nowhere and is surrounded by its own anomalous properties.

If so far all the discrepancies between our own world and the world of bsd can be traced to either abilities or The Book (even historical differences are caused by the overall existence of abilities), we can extrapolate that any unexplained phenomena can likewise be traced to one or the other. We know Dazai's ability, but that alone doesn't seem enough to explain Dazai, which leaves us with The Book.

I'm far from the first one to suggest that Dazai is somehow connected to The Book, and others have written some excellent theories about it, so i'll move on to my next point: the lyrics to the opening theme "True Story":

II. What exactly is the true story?

When i listed the known (or at least most significant, because i can't remember more) cases connected to The Book above, they are all significant plot points in season 4, except for BEAST. However, that may not be as obvious if we have a look at the lyrics of the opening theme.

I wont go into too much detail because i don't know any Japanese (i'm just referring to google translate as well as this fan translation of the lyrics) so if someone who knows the language decides to continue this analysis that would be amazing!

The first notable line is this: 何者でもない　白紙だった僕に　刻まれていくMy True Story ("To a blank page that wasn't anyone, my true story is etched" or "My true story is engraved on me, who was nothing but a blank page"). Here, the speaker is likened to a page of the book, something initially empty but given a purpose through the telling of a story. The reference to a blank page unmistakably reminds us of the page from The Book, that has played such a significant role all throughout this season.

I'm not going in order, so the next notable line i want to point out is: 魂が打つ文脈、鼓動に変えてしまえよ ("My soul reflects the context, turn it into a pulse" or "The context in which the soul beats, turn it into a heartbeat"). There is the clear mention of a heartbeat, and this is the line which we can see Dazai mouth along to in the opening, so let's continue by assuming that Dazai is the speaker in these lyrics.

While the song as a whole is very metaphorical and can be applied to a large part of the cast, it becomes more interesting for the purpose of this analysis if we take a more literal perspective, whilst simultaneously assuming that these are Dazai's thoughts.

Idk how to say this in a less convoluted way but: if Dazai's very existence, that is to say including his soul, is anomalous itself, then the superhuman manipulation of his heartrate could just be considered as one application of his existence. Or rather, of the context of his existence: something anomalous beyond abilities.

The mention of "context" is also interesting as something inherently tied to a story and storytelling. So far we have a page, a book, and a story, and they all point towards Dazai. Let's then assume that Dazai is indeed the speaker to whom the "blank page who wasn't anyone" is likened to, whether figuratively or literally.

The next line I want to bring your attention to is: 傍(かたわら)にいる　誰かを救うため　刻みこんでいくMy True Story ("To save someone who's by my side, I engrave (it into) my true story"). And this is where i'm going to bring up BEAST, a concrete example where Dazai has specifically succeeded in saving Oda by writing the plot of BEAST into existence in The Book or one of its pages.

If we then connect this line to the previous one with "my true story", we can say something like: Dazai saved someone important to him by writing his story onto a blank page not unlike himself.

In fact, he says so himself: 何者にも委ねないで　書き残せ自分自身で / ……書けるさ、魂を (Don't trust/entrust yourself to anyone, write it down yourself, write it down with your soul/write down your soul.") Here we get an implicit connection between writing down something, and doing so with one's soul, arguably with Dazai's existence (or writing down one's soul/being into existence, depending on what's the accurate translation).

Given the theme of The Book, we can't help but connect the act of writing to the act of reality-altering. Therefore, if we consider that Dazai writes i.e. reality-alters by either writing down his soul or by engraving a story into his soul, something akin to a blank page, we arrive at the conclusion that he is himself a reality-altering page like one in The Book.

The whole thing turns in on itself: Dazai does something external to affect the outside world, but that something is directed at himself. This circular or paradoxical nature is reminiscent of his own ability, which instead of manifesting outwardly like other abilities, is something that negates the outside, reverses an existence into an inexistence, even turns his own ability into a lack of one.

Now, an especially interesting line is this one: この命こそが文章-sentence-だ ("This life is the sentence") because the word "sentence" is intentionally sung in English, retaining its dual meaning of "a formally pronounced punishment" and "a cluster of words usually containing subject and verb".

For the first definition, there is obviously the prison sentence Dazai is currently iin, but you could also say that he considers his life a similar burden. For the second definition, does he mean his whole life has been written into existence in one sentence (knowing that it's possible to write a human into existence, if we take Fyodor's word for it when it comes to Sigma), or would it be more correct to assume that by "life" he means his and everyone else's life in the present timeline? Combining both definitions, we could even say that his life is a burden or an inescapable prison precisely on account of it having been brought into existence as a story.

Like i said, the "Dazai is the Book" idea is nothing new, but interpreting the lyrics in this way offers some interesting support to the theory, and will lead into what I want to say in the next part, which is how BEAST relates to all of this.

III. The role of BEAST

The refrain with which the song opens and is repeated several times is: 未(ま)だ語られない　物語の先へ　踏み出して征(ゆ)くのが勇気だ ("I still can't speak of the story ahead, it takes courage to take a step/to step forward and conquer"). This can be taken as apprehension towards the future, but there's something about the song that also makes it sound like Dazai already knows what's ahead, he just doesn't have the courage to say it.

Specifically, it's this line here: 出来過ぎた結末が　用意されてたって ("Even if the too perfect ending was prepared for me"). The lines following it are rather difficult to interpret through mediocre translations, but there's something about not being able to abandon ("it"? what? something or someone? "those who give up"?). We could continue with the interpretation that Dazai knows something about the future, about his ending, but there's actually another approach we can take.

I'm just spitballing here, but what was a more perfect ending for Dazai (whether prepared for him by an outside force or achieved with his own hand) than the one in which Oda lives and writes a book, and in which he himself gets the sweet release of death? Yet there's something he can't abandon - those around him, or life itself, or his own self that gave up.

I've heard the "main timeline is a prequel for BEAST" theory before and others may have also proposed what i'm going to say next, but i'll say it anyway: BEAST is the prequel to the main timeline. (Or better yet, it's both, with some variation. But that's too convoluted for now.)

The line that i mentioned before about "saving someone who's by your side" might hold the key to this idea, depending on how accurate the translation is and how we interpret it. It depends on if being "beside someone" is meant as like being with "someone important" or more like literally being next to someone, even being with them in life. Because as much as Dazai found the ending of BEAST as perfect as it could get, it is still not the same as being able to stand next to Oda in every sense of the word - at the same place, at the same time, in life, as friends, as equals.

Then there is this line: 自問自答を繰り返して　撰(えら)べ　本当はどう生きたいのか / 本性が知る解釈、根拠はそこにあるだろ (Unavoidable decisions, even if they are arranged, am I just a dull existence if I just accept them") where Dazai shows reluctance to accept something predetermined, "unavoidable decisions" such as those that would lead to either Oda or Dazai surviving but not both. There is also the implication of things being arranged by an outside force, so if we go with this assumption then the previously mentioned "perfect ending" could also be said to have been prepared for Dazai by this outsider, even if he presumably arranged it himself as he says.

And this is where we delve into the truly meta part of this analysis.

IV. The role of Dazai

First, I'm going to go back to the part where Dazai is shown to mouth along to the lyrics in the opening sequence. He is the only character to do so, effectively breaking the fourth wall by engaging with an anime opening theme, singing along to the line specifically mentioning a heartbeat, and saying out loud the lyrics that would otherwise be considered only as inner thoughts (like with character songs etc).

This is not the first time Dazai has shown to take on a role precariously close to directing the narrative. He does this explicitly in BEAST, whose universe exists because of his own meddling with reality. In the main timeline, his predictions and strategising border on the omniscient and almighty.

There is one significant line towards the end of True Story that is worth examining now: 今語る言葉　物語を創る ("The words I speak now create the story"). This line could mean that Dazai is currently crafting the story to save that someone, to create the life he wants to live etc etc everything that the song is about. But it could also be related to him specifically singing this song, the opening theme of Bungou Stray Dogs Season 4, and laying out the story that will take place this season.

All of these things add up if he truly is an existence beyond ordinary humans or abilities, like something intricately connected to The Book. That is because there is at least one more existence that's found these things - namely, the author.

With that in mind, if Dazai knows that the endings (of BEAST and/or of the main timeline) have been prepared for him by someone else such as the author, that could be the reason why he says the line "Don't trust anyone, write it down yourself" etc. To be precise, that could mean that Dazai acts as the "author" of the current arc in defiance of the true author (and the lyrics contain a lot about "truth" that i haven't touched upon at all).

But what does that mean in the long run? Is Dazai the author? Is Kafka Asagiri the final villain? Who is the mastermind? Idk, this is already the furthest my brain has gotten for now.

I do want to quickly mention an interesting discussion i saw recently about how the different instalments of bsd all have separate protagonists, who are not Dazai - yet Dazai remains this central character in all of them, somehow deeply rooted to the narrative yet standing at a distance from it. And that may be precisely due to his nature of being more than just a "character" of bsd as we know them.

So, to put together allllll of these different points and make sense of what i've been trying to say:

The existence of Dazai's character and abilities must be explained by something adjacent to The Book, or something even beyond the in-universe explanations.

Dazai is able to alter reality, either in his own right or with help from The Book (which may itself be connected to him) but the alterations he makes may have been compelled by a greater force.

In the event that BEAST acts as a prequel to the main timeline, Dazai's dissatisfaction with the pre-determined ending (and distrust of others) leads him to write his own story, in order to save someone important to him (Oda, if we take the word "someone" at face value, or it could be something more abstract like the value of his own life).

This act of writing with/into his soul relates to the reality-altering aspects of writing into The Book or its pages, so the entire main timeline can be considered as originating from words on paper following the events of BEAST.

Dazai goes from protagonist to author (which also explains his Godzai moments) but this very act pushes him outside of the story, thereby alienating himself from the circle of characters. Effectively, he has taken on all three roles of Reader, Writer, and Protagonist.

Then, how about the "we may or may not already know how it all ends" that i alluded to in the title of this post? Easy: it ends when Asagiri stops writing.

Sorry i couldn't keep out the Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint brainrot at the end there. But if you know what i'm talking about then you get it.

#my phd thesis also known as: the orvification of bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd dazai #osamu dazai #bungou stray dogs #me writing english essays on tumblr dot com for an audience of like 5 people #<- my neglected meta tag #bsd spoilers #bsd meta

411 notes · View notes

blasphemecel · 1 month

Text

Michael Kaiser, Alexis Ness — Ego Death

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader, Alexis Ness/Reader WORD COUNT: 1.4k TYPE: Rivalry, Tension WARNING(S): Canon-typical football derangement, canon-typical overreaction NOTE: This is a part of the dog walking-verse again it's getting out of control

They swap you in not long after Shidou’s goal.

You’re in a good mood when you step on the field, of course, like you always are. Noa doesn’t like the way you play, but you’re always in the games in the end. Your unbalanced mind chooses to interpret this as an acknowledgement of your greatness, which gives you a funny feeling. Kind of like a high.

And your target is Ness, as usual. You find yourself standing next to him, excitement bubbling in your stomach. “Let’s give them hell, ok?”

“I’m tired of telling you everyday, we won’t be doing anything,” he says, irked by your persistence. “You’re not my ace! Get it through your thick head.”

You continue grinning, giddy for what you have planned. “Ness, do you see the future I see?”

“I don’t know what your delusional imagination has come up with, but I bet it’s something stupid.”

“Whatever. When someone’s mind is closed, you just need to pry it open sometimes.”

Ness maintains his upbeat demeanor, but it’s nothing more than a mask. He intends for his words to cut into you, though he knows you won’t care. “You always talk nonsense and then call everyone else myopic for not understanding you.”

“I guess. I mean, if that’s how you see it,” you say.

After relenting, you glance at Kaiser, who’s not saying anything, just frowning. His attitude has been getting worse the longer this Neo Egotist League event has been going on. Isagi must be wearing him down.

That’s a nasty face he’s making right now. You want to watch it get worse.

When the game starts, you do your typical movements, as if you’re trying to go on the offense. You make an earnest attempt to evade the defenders marking you down whenever you get the ball, but it’s mostly a ploy. What’s important is to get the positioning right for what you’re about to do, so you keep track of where everyone is, where they’re going to run next, and try to use your approach as a lure to adjust it all to your liking.

Is the misery settling in? Does it bother Kaiser how he’s struggling to stand out right now, and against this competition, for maybe the first time in his life? Is Ness frustrated because his passing courses are so limited like never before? You’ll need to create an opportunity for this desperation to turn into a slip up you can exploit. A moment of urgent, careless thinking, more likely to give into instinct rather than a clear-minded aspiration…

You can’t leave it to coincidence, though. You break through with one-two passes from Hiori. Karasu follows, hot on your trail. Defenses are tight, not leaving any room for a sensible breakthrough.

“Always flittin’ about like a damn fly,” Karasu says. “Yer annoying.”

“And you’re a hillbilly.” You’re close to the penalty area, and you realize things have aligned well now, though you try not to let it show on your face that you’re scheming something. The next step requires meticulous execution. You manage to keep the ball in your possession against Karasu, but you can’t drag this out.

The exact moment you have enough space to move, the ball goes up in the air and you take on a shooting stance. Rin jumps into your field of vision as you thought he would, blocking the path with his foot, trying to get in your way. “You’re so damn predictable. It’s-”

In what looks like a show of godlike reflexes, but was actually premeditated all along, you reveal the feint, sending the ball flying to your desired spot, somewhere behind yourself and near the arc. Rin doesn’t even finish his critique of your performance out of incredulity.

You snap your head around to watch with an ecstatic grin, goosebumps breaking out across your skin in anticipation. Even by your standards — quick and precise with your aim — this was an abrupt and forceful pass, enough to catch the recipient off guard.

Ness doesn’t have much time to think it over by the time he realizes what’s happening, what with three defenders blocking Kaiser and two more hovering near Ness himself. So, he pulls his leg in and obeys the instantaneous reaction-

“Yes!” you scream, elated at your success. Your vision comes to life — Alexis Ness scores Bastard München’s first goal.

Despite kicking the ball, Ness seems surprised by this development, staring at you in a confused daze. He doesn’t even bother putting on a pretense of feeling annoyed by your interference. He’s not the only one perplexed. While it’s surprising enough that he scored, what’s even more shocking is the fact that you made an assist. A deliberate one, with this outcome as the intention.

“See, Ness,” you say, gesturing ahead with a manic expression on your face, before you begin making your way towards him as if to celebrate. “You make your own magic.”

He is trembling. Ness never considered himself interested in getting a point by himself, and as of recently to make any plays separate from Kaiser at all, but it is undeniable that he’s excited by this, and he’s sure the afterwaves of energy will linger in his system for a while. But he’s still dumbfounded. “Why…?”

“Let’s play together,” you say. “You shouldn’t shackle yourself to one option like a coward. There’s no need to be scared of making a choice.” Your gaze strays from him and instead moves over his shoulder where you see Kaiser glaring at you with pure hatred from a distance, but you recognize the expression as a farce, hiding feelings of hurt and betrayal and paranoia. He really is sensitive deep down. It’s too much fun poking at that kind of thing. You continue looking at him while you continue, “After all, everything’s possible.”

“But…”

“Ness, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Kaiser approaches with crossed arms, and his scowling is so intense, you feel like he’s trying to blow you to smithereens with his pathetic display. Ness flinches away from him regardless, maybe ashamed of his transgressions. Usually Kaiser treats your encounters together with a sort of levity, but his patience has been stretching thin for a while. “What do you think you’re doing? I thought you don’t help anyone besides yourself? The hell is this?”

“Ness, don’t be scared of him,” you say with a smirk. “You let him do most of the thinking, but you’re not dependent on him. It’s up to you most of the time if he gets a good shot in, not the other way around.”

Ness’s eyes widen at your words. Good. You want to watch him develop a sense of identity. It’s been too many games and you’ve been antsy. You want the satisfaction of being the catalyst to his evolution. How will his real ego manifest?

“I’m talking to you,” Kaiser grits out, grabbing you roughly by the collar of your jersey and leaning down to invade your personal space to the best of his ability as a last ditch attempt at intimidating you, blocking your view of Ness. The corners of your lips quirk up even higher, clearly not taking him seriously. The fuck is he gonna do? Whine at you until you die of boredom? “Look at me and stop pretending I’m not here!”

“When an emperor loses his last lackey, I consider him dethroned.”

His grip on your shirt tightens in response. So temperamental and easy to mess with, it’s almost cute. “Ness won’t switch to you over this. Besides, that was your orchestration. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you say. “He’ll resist it at first, I’m sure, but there’s no going back after this. He’ll start seeing me and Isagi as viable passing options, and then curiosity will get the better of him.”

Kaiser pushes you away, but his anger doesn’t seem to be simmering down. You stumble a little, but it’s not even enough to make you lose your balance and land on your ass. “I’ll make sure you plunge so deep into despair, you won’t want to touch a football in your life ever again.”

“Ho ho ho.” You laugh fakely in an exaggerated voice, clasping your hands together behind your back, pleased with the way this is going. “That’s what I like to hear.”

You’ve caused a great sense of unsettle within your favorite player out of the New Generation World XI. How long ago was it when you first saw him through a screen? Now he’s standing in front of you, and he’s disturbed, and you’re getting under his skin, and you’ve just completed the first step in your plan to steal his loyal midfielder. And he even wants to crush you! You’re so happy, you can’t help but continue to grin.

Yes, today is another beautiful day, like always.

___

It's never that serious

#blue lock x reader #michael kaiser x reader #alexis ness x reader #ness x reader #kaiser x reader #bllk x you #bllk x reader

108 notes · View notes

assiraphales · 2 months

Note

I don’t know if this is like a mutual feeling or not but I wouldn’t mind zorosan that much if it wasn’t shoved down my throat at every turn. Like I get the whole enemies/frenemies to lovers troupe but they have zero romantic chemistry in the manga compared to zolu.

I think I personally am in a unique position as someone who followed the opla to animanga pipeline because I had NO previous knowledge of the fandom. I hadn't heard of any of the ships, I hadn't read any of the discourse (I didn't even know it was about pirates lmaoo) so i've never been a part of the one piece fandom when zoro n luffy wasn't a main ship / part of my experience. I know its always been a ship, but based on posts i've seen and ppl i've talked to it def was an underdog compared to being the dynamic a lot of newcomers like myself instantly gravitated towards -- to the point it was number 42 on tumblrs 2023 ship list despite the show coming out in september.

i didn't see it in the la, and the animanga has only concreted the fact that zsn is not for me. i'm not a big fan of constant rivals ships in the first place, but when zoro n luffy exist..... there was no chance.

with that said. I think bc I entered when zolu is a corner of the fandom that is widely excepted and growing by the day, I never had zsn shoved down my throat. which is a v different perspective to the ppl who have been shipping zolu for years/decades. I HAVE seen snippets. the weaponization ace luffy discourse, saying opla gave fans the "wrong idea" about what relationships were important (which is more embarassing for them imo bc it goes to show perhaps they were the ones not paying attention to canon, and taking zoro and luffy moments and trying to completely erase luffy from the equation (thriller bark). i have gotten hate anons. BUT like all fandom spaces, the negative side is loud but not a true representation of who whole -- I have mutuals n followers who ship it, etc etc (and I don't want to talk badly about something they enjoy)

this turned into a long answer -- apologies -- but just perhaps some background as to why I tend to leave shipping discourse untouched. I already ship THE ship that's as close to soulmates in the op verse that we've seen, and bc i'm a fairly new member of the fandom..... I just don't think i've seen a lot of what others have

#HMMMMMM #I do have fighting words i've just never used them yet #zolu

77 notes · View notes

heyiwrotesomethings · 10 months

Note

I made my promise I would make a request of this so here it is. May I please request y/n and Shinobu from different fics all meeting each other? Like for an example, painter reader and demon Shinobu meeting y/n from another fic and human Shinobu. Or maybe cat demon y/n meeting y/n that could mimic everyones voices. Maybe one modern y/n and Shinobu meeting the demon slayer timeline Shinobu and y/n.

Sorry the list got so long, you don’t have to do all of them, these were just examples :D

Anyways thank you for your time and I hope you have a great day/night! Take care and stay safe! <333

Into the Shinobu-Verse

Shinobu Kochou Variants x She/ Her and They/ Them Reader Variants

A/N: You know what? I think this turned out pretty good! It’s goofy, but I think that helped me work faster. Here are the links to the fics that got their own little spot light in order of appearance Fic1 Fic2 Fic3 Fic4 Fic5 Fic6 Fic7 Fic8 Fic9 Thanks for reading, hope you like it! Word Count: 3,901

“Okay, okay, everyone stand still, stay calm, and remain quiet so we can establish assigned seats and then we can sort all of this out in a timely manner.” Shinobu called out over the crowded tea room, it was the largest space they had that could fit all these… uncomfortably familiar faces.

“(Y/n) can you make sure everyone stays connected to who they came with?”

“I’ll try my best.” (Y/n) sighed, as tired as they were anxious to see all these alternate versions of themself that had suddenly popped into existence one by one, or two by two if you counted the Shinobus they came in with. “Okay, can everyone stop talking please? Hey, be quiet everyone! Hello?! Please?! Oh, come on—!”

A loud, very convincing siren noise screeched from within the crowd and everyone clammed up, swiveling their heads to find the source of the noise. It was one of the (Y/n)s, her Shinobu had been the only one to cover her ears in preparation and rolled her eyes playfully at the disruptive mimic.

“Uh, thank you for that.” (Y/n) cleared her throat.

“No problem, me!” The mimic flashed a thumbs up over the crowd.

“Okay, um, mimic me and your accompanying Shinobu, you can sit right here.” (Y/n) motioned them over to a spot on the tatami floor and gave them each a paper with the number one on it. “These will help us keep track of who is who and who comes from where kinda I guess.”

“Excuse us, can we please just skip this and figure out how to go home now?” Another (Y/n), quite noticeably older than most spoke up, “We have children we need to pick up from school in a few hours.”

“Really, kids?”

There was a mix of curiousness, confusion and envy that came over the space.

“Can you turn on the AC or something, it’s insanely hot in here.” The accompanying Shinobu groaned, wiping sweat from her forehead. “Or is this a completely historically accurate mansion from the Taisho era or something?”

“What is… AC?”

“How do you not know what AC is?”

“It’s a completely modern mansion!”

“I can’t even get any cell service here…”

“What era are you from?”

“The Reiwa era, obviously.” The older Shinobu spoke matter-of-factly.

“Reiwa?!”

“What’s that?!”

More confused murmurs began but (Y/n) yelled over them, asking everyone to settle down once more.

“Listen, we will work as quickly as we can to get everyone back to where they belong, just bear with us, go sit next to group one please.” She handed two scraps of paper with the number two on them to the older couple.

“Okay, uh, how about you?” (Y/n) pointed to another version of themself who was dressed in much the same odd clothes as the one they had just checked in, but this (Y/n) just looked at them like a startled deer. “Um,” she pointed more obviously, “I’m talking to you, come forward with the Shinobu you came with please.”

“Oh geez,” the Shinobu beside the other (Y/n) stepped forward, “She doesn’t speak Japanese, and mine isn’t that great either. We’re from America.”

“Oh, okay!” (Y/n) spoke up before the crowd could grow in volume again, “come take these papers and sit beside group two, please.”

“Sure,” this Shinobu came forward and perched her strange, blacked out glasses on top on her head, and scrutinized (Y/n) as she took the papers, “So Taisho, for real?”

“…Yeah.”

“Damn it! I really wish I had my gear with me! This has ghost shit written all over it!” She said to her accompanying (Y/n) in their native tongue.

“Okay, I don’t know what you are saying, but please move along, much more to get through!”

A commotion in the back of the room drew (Y/n)’s attention and then could see swords had been drawn.

“Hey! Hey! Put those swords away! What are you doing?!”

“These two are demons!” A few of the Shinobus responded tightly, “And these traitors are protecting them!”

“She has never hurt anyone! You leave her alone, or I will not hesitate to cut you down as well!” The Shinobu protecting the cowering feline demon threatened.

“You know how much I love to feed off negative emotions, but I’m feeling a little too full right now.” The other demon (Y/n) murmured in a strained joking tone to their own Shinobu variant who was in a similar protective stance in front of them.

“Enough!” Shinobu called out, her voice carrying more weight than (Y/n)’s at the moment, “(Y/n)’s right, swords away! We don’t know what the situation is like in everyone else’s plane of existence. Unless you are on the verge of being attacked, you must leave those demon variants alone!”

“Thank you”, the four called, relieved. They carefully made their way to the front and took the four and five group numbers and sat closely together, finding comfort in their solidarity.

“Okay, how about you two next?” (Y/n) quickly got back to work. The sooner they got this taken care of, the sooner they could go to bed and sleep off the headache they felt coming on.

Without a fuss they came forward and that was when (Y/n) noticed that they were both splattered with blood. No wonder the couples around them seemed concerned.

“Oh my! Are you two okay?”

“Oh yes, just fine,” the Shinobu in the backless, black dress smiled, (Y/n) caught sight of the sprawling, flowery back tattoo she had as this Shinobu twisted around to observe herself, “we’re actually glad to be here. We were in a bit of a pinch.”

“I almost had them.” The (Y/n) with her groaned. “Now that we’re here, who knows what those bastards are up to? You know how much I hate loose ends.”

“One thing at a time dear, once we figure out how to get back, we’ll do a complete overhaul.”

“That’s some back tattoo,” a (Y/n) from the crowd spoke up, “Are you part of the Yakuza or something?”

“Or something.” The Shinobu smirked and gave a wink as she took the group six papers.

That (Y/n)’s accompanying Shinobu shot the other a warning look, pulling her partner possessively into her body.

“Okay— wait, Mitsuri? What are you doing here?” (Y/n) had looked out upon the crowd again to see a bright pink and green shock of hair that stuck out from the room.

“Um, I’m with these two actually?” Mitsuri sounded almost unsure, but held the (Y/n) and Shinobu she came with an assured tightness as if she was afraid of being separated.

“That’s weird… why would you be here from another plane if no other Mitsuris are?” Shinobu pondered alongside (Y/n)

“Ummm… oh!” Mitsuri snapped, “Maybe it’s because all three of us are dating each other like all you couples seem to be?”

There was a smattering of noise, probably from (Y/n)s and Shinobus who were thinking they just might have to shoot their shots with their Mitsuris when they made it back home.

“That makes just about as much sense as anyone being here in the first place I guess.” (Y/n) handed the group of three, three pieces of paper with the number seven scribbled on them.

“Okay, you next!” (Y/n) pointed at another (Y/n), then made them stop when two Shinobus followed along with them. “Oh, wait a second, do we have our first mix up? Is there a (Y/n) out there who lost their Shinobu?”

“Nope. This is normal for us actually.” The (Y/n) spoke up. They took note of the bewildered looks they were receiving and shrugged, “Cloning mishap.” As if that made it sound any less insane. The trio stepped up and took their group eight papers, smirking when they heard a couple mutterings of ‘lucky bastard’ from the crowd.

Finally, after nearly a half hour of sorting, the last group was seated and (Y/n) sunk to their knees, exhausted. At least now this was Shinobu’s show to run, hopefully she and the other Shinobus would figure out how to get everyone back where they belonged soon.

“Alright everyone, let’s go through each group and see if there is a connection between what everyone was doing before you were sent here. Group one—“

There was a sudden snapping and popping crackle noise and a flash of purple light. Everyone flinched, but not because of the sound or light itself, they had all arrived in much the same manner, but what did disturb them has the immense demonic presence that had suddenly enveloped the room.

“Ah,” the demon Shinobu that had appeared at the front of the room stretched one set of arms over her head and her secondary arms out in front of her, four piercing eyes scanned the room appraisingly and a fanged grin spread across her face, “Not quite what I had in mind, but I can work with this.”

The room was filled with a twang of swords being drawn by all who had them. The energy this demon emitted left no doubt that she was sinister.

The (Y/n) who had appeared with the demon, anxiously clung to her deep purple kimono with paint stained hands.

“Such protective little ants.” The demon Shinobu’s eyes darkened and her grin curled into a sneer, “I’m only collecting what is rightfully mine. Afterwards, you all can be in your merry ways.”

“And what could we possibly have that belongs to you?” Was the sentiment that was heard from the crowd.

“As if it isn’t obvious, a pity I’m not as intelligent in ever universe. I will be taking all the variants of my beloved artist back home. Worry not, trust that I will take care of them better than any of you could ever dream of.”

The room erupted in a chorus of angry and nervous voices.

“Silence!” The demon’s butterfly wings fanned out, sharp and black as midnight with large, iridescent toxic purple rings.

“Shinobu-sama, please,” the Artist carefully maneuvered around a wing to clasp her arms around two of Shinobu’s, “maybe this was a mistake.”

“Wanting you is not a mistake.” Demon Shinobu assured grouchily.

“Well, no… but maybe wanting more than one of me is?” The Artist murmured quietly, looking down at her feet.

“Nonsense, if one is good then adding more could only make things even better. Now,” she spread her free arms out to sweep over the crowd, “come forward my little pets.”

No one moved an inch, making the demon roll her eyes and huff in frustration. She just couldn’t fathom what was making the (Y/n)s stay put. Couldn’t they see she was superior to all the other Shinobus by leaps and bounds? Better than them all combined, even?

“Then I’ll just have to be a little more persuasive.”

The demon brushed her (Y/n) off of her arms and spread all four limbs out into an ‘x’ shape. Then with a couple beats of her wings, she emitted a purple dust that soon spread throughout the room.

Then chaos.

One by one, (Y/n)s began fading away, slipping right through the desperate fingers that were grabbing at them. Those with swords leapt forward at the demon, but she and her own (Y/n) were fading as well, the echo of an evil cackle was all that was left behind before a heavy silence filled the room.

But then one shuddering breath from somewhere within the crowd and everyone began breaking down in their own ways. The Mitsuri variant hand her hands full trying to bring comfort to every other Shinobu she could find along with her own, trying to stem the flow of her own tears.

“Everyone stop.” Shinobu, the one of this universe, called over the crowd, “Sitting here feeling sorry for ourselves won’t get us any closer to getting our (Y/n)s back!” She seethed, eyes blazing. “We have work to do. If anyone can figure out how to find them, it’s us.”

Everyone in the room began to steel themselves, nodding and agreeing and rallying around each other. They were the biggest scientific minds in most of their universes, if they put their minds together, they could figure this out.

“We will get them back!”

***

Demon Shinobu was getting impatient. Her new playthings were very, very slow to warm up to her and a few had attempted to behead her more times than she’d like to think about. She was a gracious host, gave them everything they could ever need. Why couldn’t they behave?

“How is the art going, lovelies?” She asked a group.

“Oh just great. I think I got you just right.” One of them slid the paper over to her with a smirk.

It was an unrefined, scribbled illustration. Not the least bit dignified. Her four eyes were looking in completely different directions, tongue sticking out, among other things.

“What are those lines signifying?” She asked pointing to the wavy lines that her form seemed to be emitting.

“How much you stink.” The (Y/n) shrugged with a roguish smile, accepting the high-five another (Y/n) offered them.

Shinobu blinked all four eyes simultaneously, looking thoroughly unamused.

“Children.” She muttered.

“I’m thirty-three.” The one who provided the high-five retorted.

“Well I’m over two hundred years old so that means nothing to me.”

At another table further away, the Artist sulked, half heartedly painting along side a few of her variants as she had been for the last few weeks, hardly saying a word most days.

“You aren’t trapped here like us, are you?” One (Y/n) whispered. “You like, actually love her.”

The Artist signed and nodded solemnly.

“So you probably like us being here as much as we like being here.” Another (Y/n) spoke up, “You should tell her that! Your word probably carries way more weight than ours. If you told her to send us all back to where we belong, I bet she’d listen.”

“Shinobu-sama does as she pleases, it won’t matter what I say…” the Artist said, continuing on with painting her depressing scene.

“Sure it will, you got a better chance than any of us do at least, really. Don’t you want her all to yourself again?”

“Of course I do!” The Artist didn’t yell, but it was the loudest the rest had heard her speak since they knew her. “I just don’t think it’ll matter…”

“Sure it will. Just try once, please, for all our sakes. We have Shinobus of our own that we long to get back to and I don’t know about you guys, but mine is definitely not coping healthily about this whole situation.”

“Neither is mine.”

“Nope.”

“Definitely not.”

“She probably hasn’t slept at all!”

“Our Shinobus all have one thing in common. She loves us unconditionally. It’s the same for you, it has to be.”

The Artist looked around the table, then across the art studio at all the gloomy and depressed variants of herself. They all looked as miserable as she felt. She owed it to them to at least try to talk to her muse.

“Okay… I’ll talk to her.”

“Thank you!”

“You’ve got this!”

“Demon or not, she’s a Shinobu at her core. She’ll listen to you!”

The Artist stood from her table and allowed the reassuring hands of her variants push her forward on wobbly legs. She had never gone against Shinobu like this before, or even in general honestly. She was always far too eager to please her and far too meek to voice any disagreement. That was how they ended up like this in the first place. Perhaps if she had spoken out against her muse’s plan, everyone would still be in their own universes none the wiser.

She swallowed thickly and approached the demon who turned to her as soon as she felt her coming.

“Shinobu-sama, I would like to, oh, um, I’m the (Y/n) who—“

“I know you are my first pet. Just say what you want to say.” Shinobu’s words sounded abrupt, but the Artist knew that was just how she spoke sometimes. She could be just a little impatient. The Artist thought it was cute.

“How can you tell it is me?”

“You think I couldn’t tell the original masterpiece from all these flimsy copies? Don’t make me laugh. Now tell me what you have to say, I’m in the midst of trying to convince these foolish demon variants to eat a human or two so they can get stronger and reach their full potentials.”

“Well, um,”

“Hahh, we will talk in the hall then,” Shinobu lifted her head up to address the room, in a semi-sweet voice “remember, try to escape into my woods and you’ll be as good as dead!”

She then pulled the Artist out of the large studio space and a ways down the hall of her sprawling mansion. The Artist’s mind was still spinning from the compliment the demon had tossed her way. She thought she was a masterpiece!

“Now talk, don’t think I haven’t noticed you acting cold… have the variants been giving you a hard time?” She added as an afterthought, showing a flash of fang at her displeasure at the thought.

“No! Not at all!” The Artist answered hurriedly, “It’s just… don’t you think that maybe… you should take them back to where they came from?”

“They’ll get over it soon enough I’m sure. Can’t be rebellious forever. I can handle whatever pettiness they throw at me. I’m not afraid of a little hard work. You don’t have to worry about me, pet.”

“It’s not about that it’s… well…”

“Yes? Spit it out.”

“Never mind. I’m sorry.” The Artist backed out. She was a fool for ever thinking she could do this. She began mentally apologing to all the people she left in the studio as she turned around to walk back, but the demon stopped her in her tracks and spun her back around with a flurry of arms.

“No, no. No never minding. You disrupt me like this, I expect to hear the reason. Speak, pet.”

“It’s nothing…”

“It is something and you will tell me now.” Shinobu murmured darkly. “Don’t test me further.”

The Artist swiftly shook her head and tried to turn again, but it hard when there were four insistent arms pinning her in place.

“Don’t. Be. Difficult.” She hissed. “You’re usually so good—“

“I want you to send the variants home!” The Artist suddenly snapped. “I want all of your attention on just myself again!”

She breathed heavily for several seconds and Shinobu stared at her dumbfounded. When the Artist had time to process what she said, she quickly ducked her head down and shrunk into herself as best she could with Shinobu’s arms around her. Not much longer after that, she heard the demon chuckle and renew her grip, pulling her close.

“Is that so, pet? You want my attention?” She cooed, “My, I’ve never seen you speak your mind like this and you look so expressive too. It’s very cute.”

Shinobu’s wings unfurled and wrapped around the Artist in a comforting manner that she rarely shared, save for a few occasions when she was feeling possessive or even rarer occasions when she felt particularly cuddly.

“Do you really want me to send them all away? Would that make you happy? Don’t think I haven’t noticed how drab your scenes have been lately.”

“Yes. It would make me happy for it to just be us again.”

“So selfish, pet,” before the Artist could tilt her head away in shame, Shinobu brought it back with a finger, “I like it.”

The Artist gave her a shy smile and Shinobu gave a delightfully evil-looking grin in return.

“But may I just keep a few to devour at my leisure?”

“Please don’t.”

“Very well. You are lucky I am so accommodating to your silly little whims.”

***

“Check the math again.”

“Who has seen Variant 27? She was supposed to be back from the bookstore an hour ago!”

“En went looking for her, apparently that bookstore is on the other end of town in her universe. She will be back any minute!”

The Shinobus (plus one Mitsuri) had been toiling nonstop, researching all they could about travel through dimensions, time, space, whatever they could get their hands on. So far they had yielded little results. They were starting think this was part of the demon variant’s blood art. No one would say it out loud, but they were all beginning to think that they had no hope in getting their loved ones back.

That is, until they heard that snapping crackle that had haunted what little sleep they had allowed themselves. They were all up in arms until their (Y/n)s began fading back into existence then they were rushing in for bone crushing hugs.

Among the last of the arrivals was the demon Shinobu and her (Y/n), both looking extra close to each other.

“Hurry along, chop-chop. Everyone found who they belong to? Good.” The demon sounded completely disinterested in even her own words, ready to go back to her normal routine.

“You’re setting them free just like that?” A few Shinobus asked skeptically.

“Yes. They’re obnoxious and grating. I can’t stand them for even a moment more.”

A couple more Shinobus felt comfortable enough to joke that they felt the same, even suggesting that the demon take theirs back despite how frantically they had been searching over the last few weeks.

“Too bad, your problem now.” The demon snapped her fingers and flicked her wings, this time, (Y/n)s and their Shinobus had begun to fade. “I’m sending you back to your original dimensions. When you arrive, it will be the same day it was when you left. Wish I could say it was a pleasure, but it wasn’t.”

The crowded room was filled with goodbyes, variants which had become friends waved and thanked each other for keeping themselves sane and soon only two pairs remained, the original duo from this dimension, and the demon and her artist.

“See, it wasn’t that bad, right?” (Y/n) smiled at the Artist.

“It wasn’t. Thank you for giving me that push I needed.”

“And thank you for getting me back home.”

“I did that.” The demon scoffed. “Anyway, enough of this. I don’t know what it is, but seeing myself in this sorry human form in making my head ache.”

“I could say similar things about your sorry state.” The human Shinobu quipped.

“I’m ready to go as well.” The Artist hugged the demon’s left arms, dissuading her from turning their little quips into a full out brawl.

(Y/n) and Shinobu waved goodbye to the variants as they faded from sight. When they were gone, Shinobu all but collapsed in (Y/n)’s arms.

“I’m so glad you’re back.” She whispered against their neck.

“Glad to be back, I missed you so much.” (Y/n) hugged her tight. “If I’m tired, you must be down right exhausted. Have you been eating enough?”

“Yes, Aoi had everyone working overtime in the kitchen to keep us fed. If we didn’t eat, she’d have force fed us. She was already mad enough about us overworking ourselves as it stood.”

“Good ol’ Aoi.” (Y/n) smiled. “Let’s get you into bed.”

“Only if you’re coming with me. I don’t feel like you’re really here just yet.” Her grip on their clothes tightened a little for emphasis.

“Of course. Nothing would make me happier.”

#demon slayer oneshots #kny oneshots #demon slayer x reader #kny x reader #shinobu x reader #shinobu kocho x reader #shinobu kochou x reader #requests #anonymous

197 notes · View notes

midnightactual · 8 months

Text

[ Continuing with @flashingmarkii ]

That sound certainly earned raised brows from Yoruichi. She momentarily glanced down at her own fist, still raised, as though perhaps expecting to find she'd had brass knuckles on and forgotten, or something like that. Of course she didn't, and she made ready to grab the mechanic in the event the younger woman toppled over, only to stop short as Melissa caught herself.

"No need for that, I was just saying: you're doing a great job but you're working too hard and you ought to grab something to eat." That she hadn't been heard and the punch had done so much perhaps made the point...

#In Character #Character: YORUICHI #flashingmarkii #Muse: MELISSA #Verse: SPACE ACE #[ making a new thread cuz cutting asks goes weirdly ]#[ hope you don't mind! ]

5 notes · View notes

kivaember · 10 days

Note

Not sure if anyone's asked you this yet but PLEASE drop the walt/mich essay!!!

OKAY i went crazy and did an actual essay. im not joking this fucker is long. i'd open the read more in another tab, just to warn you.

ALSO ALSO! This was just me sitting down and rambling about things. It's a summarisation of my thoughts, and I pared it down since it was hitting 5k (it's about 4.4k words long lmao). If this essay has you thinking of specific questions and the like, feel free to ask and I'll try to answer them!

Now without further ado, my ramblings below:

THE WALTER/MICHIGAN SHIP ESSAY!

INTRO

That's right baby, I'm giving this an intro and everything. Alright, this essay is all about exploring and explaining my version of the Walter/Michigan ship using the characterisation I gave them for the APV verse. First I'm going to drill down into the individual characters, what makes them tick, their backstory, etc, before finally going into detail about how they mesh together as a ship and why they're both good yet terrible for each other.

THE WORLD LORE

To understand Michigan and Walter, we need to understand the type of world they were born into. Furlong Dynamics is a major powerhouse on the Jupiter colonies, owning several shipyards and carving a specific niche for themselves as the weapon-dealer for interstellar craft. They may not be as well-known or successful as Arquebus or Balam in the defence industry in terms of MTs or ACs, but if you're arming an interstellar craft, you sure as shit are going to use Furlong Dynamics weaponry.

Problem is in post-Fires age, that corner of the market is stagnating due to a lack of new interstellar craft being built. Prior to the discovery of Coral as an energy source, humanity had to do long-stasis and slow-walking their way across the galaxy, which meant trade and the like was incredibly limited between extrasolar colonies. With Coral, however, they were able to make tremendous technological shortcuts to create what they called the "C-Wave Drive". It functions a lot like the hypothetical Alcubierre Drive, with Coral producing the insane amounts of energy required and running the equally insane amounts of calculations needed to ensure the craft doesn't crush itself into a singularity (also, Coral has a very strange relationship with spacetime, the scientists found...). An added bonus as well was that these "C-Wave Drives" required no refuelling.

The interstellar craft needed crude fuel for sublight travel and other functionalities on the ship, but as for long-distance travel? There was no need to make pitstops or set aside cargo space for fuel, so many ships got used to just carrying a small amount that would allow them to travel as needed locally, as it would be easy to refuel when arriving at their destination as and when was needed.

Post-Fires changed this landscape drastically. Overnight, the interstellar craft market was rocked by the realisation that the previously thought limitless and abundant miracle substance that made FTL travel easy and convenient was now extremely finite had them all scrambling. The UEG openly seized every single galactic store of Coral from the corporations, citing "galactic security", and all orders for new interstellar craft - amongst other Coral technologies - instantly halted.

By Young Jupiter time (ten years post-Fires), Furlong Dynamics is beginning to feel the strain. They built their empire on focusing predominantly on interstellar craft - their designs, their weaponry, their engines - and their frantic R&D into solving the energy problem the Coral had shortcutted wasn't going very well. All that could be done was continue to maintain the existing ships that existed, as theoretically the C-Wave Drives could run indefinitely until some sort of mechanical failure happened due to wear and tear. As for new ships, the only ones being built were those utilising the old "slow-walker" engines, which meant bigger, bulkier, slower ships, with less room for ammunition fabrication and storage, and more for stasis compartment and fuel storage. Corporations that had specialised mostly in stasis technologies enjoyed an unexpected windfall, while those like Furlong Dynamic began to languish.

But as they say, shit rolls downhill. With the Corporations struggling to adjust to the Coral shortage and the UEG viciously hording the few galactic stores that remained, the working class found their workload increasing - heavily.

Factories that had benefited from the automation of Coral technologies found themselves in the position where they needed heavy reliance of human productive power. Yet they didn't want their productivity to lower thanks to human limitations, and neither did they want their profits to dent by either hiring too many workers, or paying the few higher wages to make up for the harder work. The few worker protections that had been steadily built up over the past few decades were immediately torn down and rescinded, and the working class were forced to work to maintain the corporations' and the UEG's productivity in their factories and fabrication facilities on basically starvation wages.

So, we have a world that has suffered from a fatal blow to the comfortable status quo. Furlong Dynamics is desperate to try and stem the bleed from their profits that the Coral shortage had started, and the boot has never been heavier on the working class's neck. It's an atmosphere that creates considerable tension within the various stratas of society, and the Jupiter colonies especially - known as the industrial powerhouse of the solar system - have become a bubbling pot. Any socialist talk or gatherings are viciously cracked down on by the corporate and government forces, and the workers are becoming increasingly frustrated and antagonised.

So it makes sense why Walter and Michigan initially have a bit of a rocky start, coming from these polar opposites of society. Michigan, the son of a Furlong Dynamic's director, and Walter, a Rubiconian refugee clawing his way out of the slums.

But alright, world context has been laid down, it's time for the character context. First up:

MICHIGAN - THE PRINCE WHO WANTS TO BE A PAUPER

So, Michigan. G1. Hell On Four Legs. Where did he come from, and who is he? To answer that, we need to look at his family... and Furlong Dynamics' leadership.

Every corporation is unique in its structure and the way it handles leadership. For example, Balam is well-known for its unusual meritocratic selection process for its CEO, though that hasn't exactly escaped the nepotism that pervades the upper echeleons of corporate society. Those with advantageous beginnings normally win the meritocratic race: they just have to work a little harder than most. Furlong Dynamics, however, are upfront about their leadership roles being hereditary.

Five families sit on the board for Furlong with one presiding as a CEO, a role that rotates every five years in a set pattern between the five families. This is a system that has worked for almost as long as Furlong Dynamics had existed (almost 300 years by this point), and needless to say that those five families were old money. They're the equivalent of an aristocracy in a hypercapitalistic galaxy.

One of these families is Rivera, which Michigan was born into as Gabriel Rivera. It was expected of him to succeed his father and sit on Furlong Dynamics' board as a director, so from a very young age he was prepped for this eventuality. His father dictated everything in his life, from his hobbies to what he wore and right down to what he ate. He was drilled in everything to do with business, politics and the interstellar industry, as his father was keen for Michigan to be ready and prepped for when he succeeded him, especially as Furlong Dynamics was entering a critical slump for the first time in its long history due to the Coral shortage. He didn't want his son to be the weak link.

Michigan despised this. He hated the people his father forced him to interact with, he hated the two-faced communication and backstabbing schemes he was encouraged to learn and inflict on others, he hated how boring yet stressful this kind of life was. Contrary to his personality later in life, Michigan was reclusive and anti-social when he was young - a direct result of his father's overbearing and relentless micromanaging - and when possible would hole himself up in his room and escape by watching classical films.

Classical films being... war films and action movies.

Though plenty of media had been lost when Earth suffered from ecological devastation, many had been salvaged throughout the centuries. It had begun from Michigan pilfering from his father's collection, something to put on display and boast about possessing rather than watching, and found himself hooked.

Brave soldiers heroically saving their comrades, taking charge of their destinies, denying fate, overcoming the odds, starting from the gutter and rising to the top from their own merits, making fire-forged friends that were genuine and not shallow transactional facades... this type of fantasy entranced Michigan, giving him a craving that he couldn't quite itch with his luxurious yet empty life. He desperately wished he had been born as some poor bastard whose only option was to join one of the corporate militaries, and distinguish himself by commiting acts of heroism, have people awed by him because of his own merits, and not because he is a Rivera and surrounded by brown-nosing sychophants.

It was a delusional dream driven by an intense desire to escape and forge a genuine connection with anyone, and after years of burying himself deeper and deeper in the propaganda belched out by these old action films (the message of 'war is hell' from the more solemn ones flying miles above his head), Michigan decided: he was going to disown himself and become an MT pilot.

Which he managed. To cut a long story short, Gabriel Rivera became just Michigan, the Rivera name used sparingly and only for legal reasons. He left behind the comfortable executive life to start at the very bottom of the pilot ranks, working his way up with grit and determination, denying any advantages or opportunities that came his way due to his blood or name. He wanted to emulate those heroes that he had watched in those films, he wanted to start with nothing and become something, all with his own efforts, and leave behind the Rivera name and reputation for good.

He started acting more like those gunslinger heroes, loud voice, boisterous personality, easy-going nature and possessing a masculine charm. He's always seeking that big, heroic event, that euphoric moment of victory and achieving the impossible against the odds... but he never really found it. Even after abandoning Furlong Dynamics entirely to jump ship to Balam, he realised that it was just more of the same, his battles against downtrodden workers protesting against their inhumane treatment, or furthering corporate interests over some useless moon in the middle of nowhere. There was no glory or higher purpose - just the company's bottom line.

Michigan started his piloting career as a rich kid craving adventure, naive to the true gritty nature of the galaxy. After decades of piloting under his belt and with an intimiate insight on both sides of the corporate ladder - both at the bottom and the top - to say Michigan was jaded by the time he landed on Rubicon would be an understatement.

He learned that there's no such thing as big damn heroes in this shitty galaxy. All the titles and medals he earned were just window dressings to whatever shitty advertisement his corporate master touted to bolster its reputation or sales. He hated his "Hero of Jupiter" title, and he took great pleasure in launching his "medals" off a cliff and into the ocean like they were frisbees. He hated that in the end his father had been right, that becoming a pilot wouldn't let him run away from the corporate lifestyle, it'd just throw him down to the very bottom and get him trampled

In short, Michigan's a man who tried to forge his own destiny by following a childish dream. His naivety resulted in him being trapped in a life that only had one escape - crawling back to his father and retaking the name Gabriel Rivera - and he viewed that worse than being a corporate attack dog with no real freedom. He'd rather die in some shitty hole in a random ditch somewhere over some pointless resource that meant nothing to him. Was it pride by that point, or stubbornness? He really didn't know.

He just knew that he was just another guy suckered in by the corporations' glitzy and false promises.

WALTER - THE AVENGER WHO KNOWS HE'S DIGGING A GRAVE FOR MILLIONS

Walter, meanwhile, was born to a privileged family of a different sort.

A good few decades before the Fires, Rubicon had done the unthinkable in human history: it had broken away from the UEG and declared independence, becoming a self-sustaining colony with a distinct identity - and able to negotiate with the fuming UEG on equal footing due to its sole access to Coral and its development of the C-weapons. The UEG couldn't take Rubicon or its resources by force (though it surely contemplated it from time to time), and so begrudgingly dealt with them as a peer, legitimising Rubicon as an independent colony and allowing it to forge its own desinty on the galactic stage.

While UEG and its many colonies functioned as a hypercapitalist ogligarchy, Rubicon became a technocracy, with the Rubicon Research Institute having considerable sway over the Rubiconian central government - to the point where it was understood that despite the elected 'president', it really was the Institute that was in charge. This gave rise to the 'intellectual elite', the scientists and academics who ran the Institute - the class that Walter belonged to before the Fires.

His parents were both scientists that worked on the Xylem and lived on-site. They were passionate about their work with the Coral and highly respected within their community, but while they clearly loved Walter, he was always second priority to their research and ambitions. Walter was the only child growing up in the labs (at least, the only one that wasn't a test subject of some kind), and only ever interacted with adults - all of whom were scientists or the security staff. He had never left the Xylem either, his concept of the 'outside world' being the small, sanitised courtyard with the lone tree, and the street he could see past the bars of the labratory's secure and gated exit. While he had some freedom of movement within the facility, there were areas he was barred from entering due to sensitive experiments, or to minimise his interaction with detained test subjects.

As a result, Walter became scarily self-sufficient from a young age, and came across as taciturn or emotionally stunted. He spoke like an adult but struggled to navigate social situations in general, unable to sugarcoat his words and coming across as rude or abrasive when speaking to others. While he found himself occasionally curious about interacting with people who weren't harried scientists that barely tolerated his prolonged presence, Walter genuinely found himself unbothered about his isolation. He was lonely, yes, but he occupied himself well enough, and filled the long stretches of time in furthering his education - determined to become a scientist like his parents and continuing on their work, as what was expected of him.

Then his father began the augmentations and everything went terribly wrong.

His mother volunteered to be Gen Zero, the prototype used to present to the Institute to have the augmentation project greenlighted. Initially, things went well. His mother suffered no significant drawbacks, and demonstrated an incredible boost in mental acuity and calculation power that current neural implants couldn't even begin to compare to. Once the Gen Ones were well underway, however, with a significant death rate at that, his mother began to rapidly degrade, physically and mentally. Walter's last memory of his mother was her unable to recognise him and talking to people who weren't there, knowing that it was the Coral's fault somehow.

His father was driven to perfect the augmentations to ensure his wife's sacrifice wasn't in vain. In Walter's words, he began a carnival of horrors within his labs, killing and mutiliating hundreds within his labs in his pursuit of the refining the augmentation process, with the Institute pumping unlimited resources, funding and test subjects into the project. The glimpse of the future Gen Zero showed them had them eager to achieve that perfection, no matter how many bodies they had to stack up.

It disgusted Walter. While he had never been emotionally close with his parents, he had still respected them, and to see his mother reduced to a crazed husk of herself before dying and his father turning into a monster, destroyed the pedastal he'd put them on. Walter found himself fostering a near irrational hatred for the Coral, rationalising that none of this would've happened if Coral had never been discovered - if it had never existed. He wished, vehemently, for it to disappear.

He got his wish with the Fires.

While the augmentations had made Walter view the Coral with a negative lens, seeing the damage it could do in the wrong hands, the Fires cinched it as a traumatic avatar of destruction in Walter's mind. The Coral was too dangerous to exist in their galaxy, not with how greedy humans could be, and blind to the dangers in pursuit of power. But his motivations weren't noble: he absolutely despised the legacy it represented, how he couldn't hear the word 'Coral' without thinking of his father, his mother, and how everything was robbed from him. It seeded in him an obsession, a hateful, vengeful obsession, because focusing on that, on gunning for a tangible entity that you've vowed to destroy, is far easier to stomach than processing the fact that your life was utterly ruined by selfish ambitions and a freak accident.

Overnight Walter went from part of the very prestigious intellectual elite on Rubicon, to a penniless refugee on one of Jupiter's colonies: Ganymede. It was a shock to the system to find himself in a world where food wasn't simply there whenever he desired it, that shelter wasn't a given, and that clinical cleanliness was a privilege, not a right. He fortunately had Carla with him, though, and while the first few years were rocky, they managed to find their footing by creating a scrapping service in the Ganymede slums, Carla using her previous experience in R&D at the Institute, and Walter his education, to repurpose old tech and mechs or salvage somewhat valuable tech to sell on.

From there, they began to plot, to focus their shared hatred and distrust of the Coral to really make sure it was gone for good, that it wouldn't come back. In the filthy slums beneath Ganymede, with a promise made between two emotionally exhausted yet furious Rubiconian refugees, Overseer was born.

But that's its own story.

Walter's endless conga line of misfortune did well to harden him and make him adaptable to unpleasant surprises. He always expects shit to go wrong at the most inconvenient times, he doesn't trust a single person to do the right thing even if he's known them for years (Carla, who all but raised him, he only trusts to a certain extent), and he realised how hypocritical most people could be. Though he was born as one of the intellectual elite, witnessing and experiencing first hand the oppression and indignity the working class suffered in UEG territories genuinely sickened him - and cemented in his mind that this galaxy couldn't be trusted with the Coral at all.

He had to destroy it for good. He had to make sure it could never come back and hurt anyone else. He had to erase every drop of legacy his shit-for-brains father had built and let history bury him forever. Walter, for all of his outwardly cold and emotionless masks, feels deeply and intently, and all of it is bitter rage.

Walter just doesn't know how to process his emotions well - he was never taught, and he missed those vital milestones with his lonely childhood, locked away in an ivory tower filled with nothing but scientists and test subjects. He feels so much over his father, the Fires, the Coral, but has no idea how to sort through it all. So he stuffs it away. He keeps his gaze fixed on the horizon where his mission to destroy the Coral hangs. He tells himself that once he destroys it for good, it'll all go away: these incomprehensible, heavy and painful emotions. The source of them all will be gone.

Imagine that: condeming millions to death because of crippling, unaddressed daddy issues.

THE SHIP ITSELF

Right, with all that context given, onto the part people really care about: so, why does the Walter/Michigan ship pair well? Or at least, why does APV Walter/Michigan pair well.

Michigan's POV:

From Michigan's side, he's fascinated with Walter. Everything about him just doesn't make sense. He's a 'sewer rat', a working class drone that managed to claw their way out of the muck and elevate his social standing through stubborn grit and determination - but his demeanour belies that. Walter demonstrates a level of education and sophistication that the working class just don't have. Michigan has grown up on Ganymede, and despite the high-ranking executives living in their gated communities and busying themselves with the day-to-day running of their businesses, they do keep an eye on what the working class are up to.

The corporations have perfected subjugation and propaganda to an artform. They can only achieve this if they know their target audience. Michigan knows, as any self-respecting Rivera knows, how the working class tick, their current worries and desires, the statistical trends of their few purchases and which style of propaganda they're most receptive to. Walter fits none of the established norms for Ganymede working class - he doesn't even have a recognisable Jupiter colony accent - so he already presents himself as an interesting puzzle for Michigan to break down.

There's also some genuine respect there too. Michigan acknowledges that Water had to work hard to get where he was, and he appreciates that Walter doesn't mince his words or beat around the bush. He's blunt, direct and isn't in the business of brown-nosing or fawning to ingratiate himself. You always knew where you stood with Walter, or so Michigan felt, and admittedly, Walter reminded him a lot of a certain character achetype in his precious films: the underdog, the guy you ended up rooting for just because he worked so fucking hard for what he wanted.

So, to Michigan, Walter's interesting, he's mysterious, and he's a representation of what Michigan wanted for himself. He wants to be like Walter: a poor as shit refugee making something of himself, with a whole future to distinguish himself and build his own reputation, to forge himself in fire! Michigan is mildly envious, but thinks as well that if he sticks close to him, he'll be able to live vicariously through him, to get a taste of dream he really wanted to achieve...

And because he's so fascinated with Walter, he starts to learn all of his tics and mannerisms too. He begins to understand the minute shifts of Walter's expressions, what he leaves unsaid and knowing when Walter is feeling but just doesn't know how to express or word himself. Michigan is the more emotionally intelligent of the two, and very perceptive despite how he acts. Combined with his easy-going nature and his respect for Walter's hardworking nature and competency, this helped him break through a few of Walter's walls - despite Walter doing his best to rebuild them as fast as possible.

Not to say they don't butt heads: they butt heads a lot. Arguing is their favourite pasttime. They challenge each other, and Michigan knows that he can say whatever and Walter can dish it out right back. Walter doesn't give a shit about any potential ties Michigan may have to the Rivera family - he just gives a shit about Michigan waking him up at 6am and asking him to go running with him. He snaps at him, argues with him, insults him... he treats him as Michigan, and this is what Michigan cares about the most.

Walter's POV:

Meanwhile, Walter's feelings towards Michigan are very complicated. He's irritated by what he sees as Michigan's nosiness towards his private affairs, and he doesn't appreciate him trying to figure him out. Mostly because he doesn't want him figuring out his true identity. Walter wanted to sever any and all ties between him and his father's legacy, and he and Carla took great pains to have no one realise that he was the famous Dr Kohler's son. And the disowned heir of the Rivera family? Definitely in the best position to connect the dots.

But Michigan's also the first person to ever just... treat him normally and roll with his verbal punches. People are usually scared away by Walter's cold attitude and sharp words, but Michigan gave as good as he got, and always shrugged off Walter's meaner comments. It left Walter at a bit of a loss, and after a while he slowly desensitised to Michigan's presence. He rationalised that it's just pointless wasting energy trying to chase off Michigan, but the fact was he... ended up liking his company. He had no idea socialising could be so enjoyable, once you learned to tolerate their more aggravating parts.

There's also a colder and more pragmatic side too: Michigan is useful to him, as a son of an executive, disgraced or not. Walter is aware enough to acknowledge that a small chunk of his tolerance is proportional to Michigan's use for him, but in his mind he sees it as an expected part of their relationship. It's transactional, what they share (or so he tells himself). He offers entertainment to Michigan, who in turns offers the same - and lets Walter take advantage of the few perks being "friends" with an executive's son offers.

He tells himself he can't get attached - he has his mission after all - but by this point Walter's good at ignoring his feelings and burying himself under six feet of concrete denial. He clings to the rationalisation that they're just "friends with benefits" for years, that from the beginning they were only making use of each other - there wasn't really anything there. Even to him that sounded hollow when he finally cut ties and left, to pursue his hopeless and doomed mission. He never really stopped thinking about Michigan, the what-ifs.

He hated it.

...

Also they both share a hatred of their respective fathers, so they Get That. They're part of the Dads Suck club.

CONCLUSION

So basically........ they're gay, your honour.

#armored core #armored core 6 #handler walter #g1 michigan #ship essay #i finally wrote it...#i don't write essays often but this was kinda fun to do #even if just to put my thoughts down or something #welp i hope people enjoy uwu

26 notes · View notes

mysteryshoptls · 9 months

Text

Episode 5-21 Rhythmic Lyrics

LET'S SING AND DANCE WITH ALL SEVEN OF US!

Piece of My World

Kalim/Jamil/Vil/Epel: Can't you hear it, just beyond the door? It's waiting for you, let's go to Wonderland!

Vil: I've always wanted to feel thrilled. Vil/Ace: So give me a sign. Jamil: You won't want to blink at all. Jamil/Rook: The magic is about to start.

Rook/Ace: AH AH

Jamil: Nobody ever wants to lose. Deuce/Jamil: The moon urges us on. Vil: Let's go and let out our tense feelings in our footsteps. Vil/Epel: Come, before the break of dawn arrives.

Jamil: I'm just fumbling my way through. Epel: Trying to figure out what I am. Jamil/Vil: Even though I have the passion to pierce all the way through.

All: Let's dance to the twisted rhythm. That spirit you have even when face down in the ground is still charming. It really doesn't matter, Isn't it okay to be just a little bit bad?

All: All these thrills are pieces that make up who I am. I'll show you the wonderful world in the darkness.

Jamil/Vil/Epel/Rook: Take a peek inside, just beyond the door. It's waiting for you, let's go to Wonderland!

The verses below are not in the rhythmic, but they were revealed during a broadcast of the Night Ravens singing Piece of My World. Although the chorus lines are essentially the same, the final verse was slightly different, so I have added it here.

Let's dance to the twisted rhythm. That spirit you have even when face down in the ground is still charming. It really doesn't matter, Isn't it okay to be just a little bit bad?

All these thrills are pieces that make up who I am. I'll show you the wonderful world in the darkness.

Take a peek inside, just beyond the door. It connects inside of you, that Wonderland!

AH AH Come along to Wonderland!

Piece of My World (Translyrics)

Under the cut, the following English lyrics should match the Japanese lyrics fairly well. Some liberties have been taken to make the rhyme and rhythm work, but stays true to the core of the song. It may take a few listen and read throughs to sing it just as I've envisioned it. I've also spaced them out slightly separately from the original written lyrics in-game to help with figuring out the beat.

Can’t you hear it calling? Right beyond the door there. For you it’s been waiting. Let’s go to Wonderland!

I always wanted to be thrilled beyond belief So now, give me the cue. And if you blink too fast I’ll have to give you grief All the magic will be starting soon.

AH AH

There isn’t anyone who ever wants to lose Yet the moon will taunt us. Let out loud footsteps to help the tension diffuse Hurry, before the break of dawn arrives.

It’s hard to figure out What all I can become But even so, I power through what may come

Let us dance the night away to this twisted beat Your strong spirit shines even when you're faced with a defeat. Don't you ever mind, You'll find, Being a bit bad can be so sweet

All these thrills are pieces that make up who I can be I’ll enchant you within the deep darkness unfurled. Yes, in this wonderful world.

It’s what you’ve been seeking. Right beyond the door there. For you it’s been waiting. Let’s go to Wonderland!

Let us dance the night away to this twisted beat Your strong spirit shines even when you're faced with a defeat. Don't you ever mind, You'll find, Being a bit bad can be so sweet All these thrills are pieces that make up who I can be I’ll enchant you within the deep darkness unfurled. Yes, with this wonderful world. It’s what you’ve been seeking. Right beyond the door there. Feel your soul connecting. Right to the Wonderland! AH AH Come along to Wonderland!

#twisted wonderland #twst #ace trappola #deuce spade #kalim al-asim #jamil viper #vil schoenheit #epel felmier #rook hunt #twst ace #twst deuce #twst kalim #twst jamil #twst vil #twst epel #twst rook #twst translation

137 notes · View notes

lovelessrage · 8 months

Text

The amount of times I've had to hear "don't you love your family and friends?" from people, including and ESPECIALLY other aros, is so ridiculous. You could have an otherwise very well-versed person who [in regards to the aroacespec] knows their stuff well, but you show them an aplatonic or an afamilial and that just doesn't fit somehow. Especially in regards to afamilials [although it is not a contest when we're all struggling, don't get me wrong] there is just about nothing circulating beyond vague mentions in aro and ace spaces, despite how many people fit on the spectrum and the fact it's as part of the aspec as anything else.

Shoutout to afamilial aros, afamilial aces, and anybody inbetween or included in both. Hope your identity, your experiences, and your struggles get recognised more [I sure haven't had much luck in it].

#aromantic #aro #asexual #ace #afamilial #afam #loveless aro #aspec #scowl corner

72 notes · View notes

orandoggo · 1 month

Text

Screw it, Asra and Muriel HCs time

Note that I played their routes like forever ago so I'm kinda going off of vibes here /lh

That and just personal HCs for them sillies. Quick warning that Muriel's might be a little sad?

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Asra:

Probably ace/within the acespec, definitely nonbinary

Will literally not care whatever gender you identify as, they'll happily and quickly learn new pronouns for you, just know that they are extremely queer over you no matter what

Hits the zaza. Does apothecary so you can't convince me that they don't know which stuff goes best with flavored zaza. Happily shares with you

Has a tendency to runaway from things, but ever since you came back into their life, they started to not do that as much anymore because they wanna be there for you. For real this time

Super open to otherkin. If the Arcana exists, otherkin exists like seriously

Loves stargazing and astrology (haha Asralogy), can and will infodump about starts to you when given the chance

Spaces out when deep in thought, literally goes into another world but it's cute tbh. Kissing them on the cheek snaps them out of it

LOVES kisses, they also really like it when you hold their face in your hands and rub your thumbs on their cheeks

Sometimes gets anxious when you're not within sight, they tend to call out your name outside of the shop to make sure you're still nearby

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

Muriel:

Likes going on hikes

CUDDLEBUG!! Can and will cuddle you whenever you lay down for a nap or to sleep through the night, or to simply just lay down and vibe. You can and will be in his arms almost constatly, or you'd be spooning him. He won't admit he likes being spooned tho

Fairly easy to make him flustered! You tease him enough and he'll stumble on his words and hide his face behind his hands

With the stuff he went through, mans has anxiety and PTSD, can and will have panic attacks when triggered bad enough. He's learning new coping mechanisms and he thanks the world for having you with him through all of this

Has adjusted well enough that going into town to buy stuff like food and such isn't as panic inducing as it used to be. But sometimes asks you to come with and he'd hold your hand discretely throughout the entire adventure for comfort

Has had to make sure you don't touch things you know nothing about, especially when it comes to wildlife and plants. You're versed enough when it comes to fauna and flora, but Muriel's part of the woods isn't your usual place where everything seems to be tame. He's scolded and educated you softly a few times now and you can't help but find his somewhat serious face cute

Inanna is like an interpreter when it comes to Muriel's untold feelings whenever she's around. You ask Muriel if he's upset and he says it's okay? Look at Inanna, she'll probably whine softly in response to confirm with you that he's not telling the truth. He's grown to be more open with you, but some habits are hard to let go of

#these are my bbgs if you can't tell #the arcana #the arcana game #asra alnazar #asra the arcana #muriel of the kokhuri #muriel the arcana #headcanons #hcs #fluff #soft #writing #prompt #writing prompt #ramble

42 notes · View notes

natasha-in-space · 1 month

Note

Can I request you RFA and Saeran ( minus Jaehee) with a male MC. The boys are just shocked they are attracted to someone same gender as them. Does Jumin Han is gay? Jumin would confirm that this is true. Male MC is literally so adorable and cute, kind and compassionate, also has some feminine trait

I do want to preface this by pointing out that this is very headcanon-territory overall! I don't think I talked much on this blog about my personal headcanons for MM gang's sexualities so far. Not directly, anyway. That is to say, they will love you regardless of your gender! All MC's are loved and cherished by the RFA, don't forget that <3

Yoosung

Now, Yoosung definitely had crushes before, but they never really went anywhere. By the time he meets you, he probably has little or no real-life experience with romantic relationships. I don't think he is very well versed in his own sexual or romantic preference... at all. He was simply too focused on studying for the majority of his school years, and once Rika has passed, the yearnings for a romantic relationships were just another form of his deep longing for human connection. So, it goes without saying that a male MC wouldn't have much impact. These feelings are still new and undiscovered for him, whether you are male, female, trans, nonbinary, etc. By the time he realizes that he is falling for you, your gender is the last thing on his mind. The thing that will come up is coming out to his family. This post focuses solely on exploring that aspect for Yoosung!

Zen

So, Zen canonically has quite a bit of relationship experience under his belt. He is aware of his likings and dislikes. I do headcanon him as questioning his sexuality, but still presenting himself as straight. A part of him just never really felt that inner push to try and pursue anything with a man. Not fully. But he definitely considers it sometimes, and he finds himself feeling attracted to non-female presenting individuals. He's kind of confused in that sense, often writing it off on him finding someone aesthetically attractive is all. I have a feeling that there were some men approaching him romantically or sexually, though. He works in a creative field, and creative spaces are often, if not always, full of queer people. So, for him, it'll be more of a confirmation than anything else. He finds you attractive, both inside and out, and that's a feeling he recognizes well enough. He'll be way more awkward with flirting, though. He knows how to charm a lady, but he's clueless if he should do anything specific for a man. You'll have to give him a push there.

Jumin

Jumin is not that interested in learning about his romantic or sexual preferences. Although he appears somewhat clueless, he really just... doesn't care much. In a way, he always knew that he is capable of attraction to more than one gender, he just never had a word for it, nor did he care enough to learn. I personally headcanon him on the ace spectrum, so that plays into his indifference towards his love life. Of course, that's not to overlook the role his unfortunate upbringing played in shaping his views on romantic relationships. He would definitely be way more involved if his family didn't raise him the way they did. (But we're not touching that huge can of worms right now) I don't think he will care much about labels, not until you or someone else brings it up to him. He just knows that he loves you, and that's that. He doesn't understand nor appreciate anyone questioning him or meddling into his personal affairs. His family included. So, I don't think he will be all that shocked, nor will he struggle. Most of his intimacy issues stem from his upbringing, not much else.

Saeyoung

It's pretty much a common knowledge that Saeyoung is very blatantly not straight. He doesn't try very hard to conceal it, nor does he care to. I actually view him as the most flirty one of the group, so he has his fair share of fleeting flirty connections with many people of all gender identities. None of it was anything meaningful nor serious, though. He's the sort of guy who flirts with everyone in the room, but will quickly fumble and leave if someone reciprocates his advances. Saeyoung's issue is not so much about his sexuality as it is about his unique situation regarding his job and identity.

Saeran

Saeran... doesn't know much, if anything, about sexuality. His knowledge is very limited to what little he reads in books and Rika's words. In other words, I don't believe Rika would instruct him that feeling something for another man is wrong or incorrect. I think it's pretty clear that she is not the type of person to do that or believe in that. (That's not mentioning that she is very not straight herself but I digress) I do think Ray would talk about it with her, though. Although she trusted him to select a tester on his own, I'm certain that she still overlooked some aspects of the process. And we do know that Rika doesn't really mind his attraction towards you. It's only when that attraction grows into something more substantial that challenges his loyalty to her does it become an issue in her eyes. That is to say, Ray wouldn't care if you are a man. He finds you as lovely as can be. Just be prepared to be called a prince. And Ray will probably want to be your knight. He can't think of a role more fitting than one that will make him serve you and protect you like you deserve.

21 notes · View notes