#sprites from the machine

[robotpiez-sprites]

weird terezi/vriska frankenstein

this was fun to make!!

[robotpiez]

terezisprite >:]

[putting-spaceboy-in-places]

(REQUESTED BY @theinkbunny)

Captain Spaceboy is now at the Ink Machine!!! The original version though.

Surely this must be an OSHA violation or something!! No wonder they got shut down.. or something I dunno I'm not caught up on bendy lore

[monogramsalarm]

the urge to become a diet coke bitch again…..

[unusualsims]

my mom was laughing at me for meticulously choosing everyone's drinks whenever I do cafeteria scenes

actually, it's crucial to the story that max is a monster guy and lucas is a sprite guy smdh 🙄

[v3joker]

[Game of Dice] November 2023: 2nd Week

YouTube: [X]

This Week's Events

▪ Childhood Toy Share (Facebook/Naver/Twitter Comment Event) ▫ Share a picture of your childhood toy(s). ▪ RPS Event ▪ World Run ▪ Devil Staff in My Selection ▪ 1+1 Package (Saturday - Wednesday) ▫ Resource package usually. ▪ Reflector Mirror Force - Refine/Craft (Sunday - Tuesday) ▪ Domination - Draw or Combine (Monday - Wednesday) ▪ Agent Pierre & Magic Cat Ren - Upgrade/Purchase ▫ Character reruns are more for players who already own one of the two characters. ▫ It is cheaper to random refine the character up to 6P and use topaz/elixirs to attempt to get evolve. ▫ Upgrade star pieces in character reruns require real money to obtain.

[~☆~]

New Skill: Punishment

▪ Walnut (Edition): Add 1 [Trip Trap Card] to selected opponent's deck. The effect is applied immediately when opponent draws [Trip Trap]. ▫ [Trip Trap] Move to an opponent's city. ▫ Collector: [Enhanced Trip Trap] Get extra 1K% toll + -100% goods effect chance for 2 turns, then move to opponent's most expensive city.

[claire-starsword]

god i understand now how limited these java ME games were in terms of animation, but playing phantasy star without the spaceship sequences is tragic

[archangeldyke-all]

ANGELLLL hear me out, club mom getting hit on at work🫡🫡🫡

AEWFHAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

men and minors dni

the thing is, you don't even notice it's happening.

nobody comes to a strip club and to flirt with the clothed people. especially not when those clothed people are spending their evenings kicking out touchy-feely customers and cutting off heavy drinkers. you're the resident buzzkill, that's literally half of your job. you are not the main attraction here.

so, you assume this woman's just chatty, just one of those people who'll talk to anyone. you don't even remember her name, but she's been chatting casually with you all night. you know she works in the mines. you know she's here for her buddy's birthday party. you know her favorite drink is vodka sprite. she says she likes the bubbles.

you don't even consider that she's flirting with you until cherry catches your eye across the club and frowns. after so many years working in the loud-ass club, you and cherry have become experts at reading-lips. what? you mouth.

cherry rolls her eyes. don't let sevika see you.

you frown in confusion. why? she loves these pants on me.

cherry laughs then nods toward the locker room. you huff and follow after her.

"what?" you ask.

"that lady's flirting with you mom, don't be stupid."

you burst into laughter. "why the fuck would she be flirting with me?!"

"you said the same thing about sevika on her first night here, and now look at the two of you." cherry says.

you frown. "well, yeah, but i like sevika."

cherry laughs. "and she likes you too. enough to have married you. which is why you need to steer clear of flirty-pants over there. you're gonna make your wife jealous."

the idea makes you laugh, but cherry looks dead serious. you frown in contemplation, and she kisses your cheek before heading back onto the floor.

you know sevika's the most loyal wife in the world, and sevika has full faith in your loyalty to her. she has to, seeing as the other half of your job is keeping a bunch of half-naked girls happy.

plus, flirting is obvious... right? flirting is a lower lip bitten, a heavy, calculating, lingering gaze on your hands as you work. flirting is bantering until you're too busy kissing to argue, it's sparkly grey eyes wide with lust, and giggles that sound like music.

it's not chatting about beer.

you head back out to the club only to run into ms. flirty pants herself.

"oh shit! hey, i was lookin' for you." she giggles. you frown.

"is there something i can help you with?" you ask. maybe she needs help with the atm machine-- it's been on the fritz lately.

"no, no, i was just... well, i got to talkin' to that bartender bimbo about you," you frown at the description of trinity, "and she mentioned that you're into the local music scene."

your shoulders sag in relief. she's not coming onto you, she's looking for a gig. "oh, yeah, love it. sadly, we're not lookin' for any more dj's at the moment, but if we ever have an opening--"

flirty pants cuts you off with a laugh, one of her hands landing on your shoulder. your stomach sours. "no, no, not that! god, i wish i was a musician. no, i got two tickets to this battle of the bands thing happening--"

"oh." you mutter. "no thank you." you say, enunciating each word clearly as you can over the music and firmly removing her hand from your shoulder.

you brush past her, making a bee line toward the bar.

"is that bitch flirting with you?!" trinity gasps. you groan.

"relax about it, would you?"

"relax!? mom, she's trying to break you and papa sev up!"

"you're so dram-- ew, papa sev?" you groan. "that's the worst one yet."

trinity laughs and pours you a shot. "here. drink."

you down the shot and sigh. "i'm wearing my ring and everything!" you whine. "i-i'm in this frumpy, stinky sweatsuit!"

trinity laughs. "i wasn't gonna say anything--"

you roll your eyes. "it's laundry day, okay?" trinity giggles. "but you're just proving my point. i am not the person to flirt with in this building!"

"sevika did." trinity points out. you groan.

"i looked good that night and sevika..." you trail off, the liquor hitting you and a warm fondness bubbling up in your tummy at the thought of your wife. trinity groans.

"ugh, mom, keep it in your pants."

you snort and roll your eyes. "i didn't mind sevika flirting with me. i mind this. this is awkward and horrible. what do i do?"

trinity shoves another shot under your chin. "drink this and tell her to fuck off. wave the ring in her face."

you drink the shot and cringe, then pat trinity's shoulder. "are you okay? have you taken your break yet?"

she laughs and rolls her eyes. "i'm good mom. let 'er down easy, then tell 'er if she's got money i'll let 'er flirt with me allllll night." trinity says.

you snort and shake your head, turning around to do that.

flirty-pants is leering at you from across the club. you groan, roll your eyes, then march over to her.

"there you are, pretty thing. had me thinking you were runnin' from me."

"right. about that--"

"don't tell me you're fuckin' married or somethin'--" you hold your hand up to show her your ring. she sags. "oh c'mon. that shit's fake, right?"

you scoff. "what?"

"'s a fake ring you wear at work so you don't get hit on."

you blink. "n-no! what the fuck?"

"wait... you're really married?"

"yes. she is."

you cringe and turn around, your wife standing behind you and glaring daggers at poor flirty-pants. you open your mouth to explain, but sevika simply reaches out and pulls you in for a nasty kiss by the front of your frumpy sweatshirt.

you sigh against her lips, letting her hands circle your waist, her leg shoved between yours, her tongue brushing your lips. you moan against her and she hums in response, walking you back until you're pinned to the wall.

"fuck, okay, i get it. sorry." flirty-pants mutters before walking off.

you snort a bit at her words, then reach up to thread your hands through sevika's hair, tugging enough to make her growl.

eventually she pulls away, a string of spit connecting your lips. you grin at her. "well, hello."

she snorts. "cherry waved me down when i got here and told me i needed to 'mark my territory.'" sevika explains. you giggle.

"i was handling it... but your way was a little more efficient."

sevika swoops in to kiss you again, much sweeter and softer this time. "hi, baby."

"hi. how was work?" you ask as you scratch her scalp. sevika purrs in your hold. you nuzzle your nose against hers.

"horrible. think we can leave the girls to fend for themselves for the rest of the night? i wanna take you home and mark my territory some more."

you cackle and kiss the tip of sevika's nose. "yeah, i think they'll be alright."

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @vkumi @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17 @losernb @p1nkearth

taglist!!

@sevikas-baby @ghostscandys @sevikasllver @runawaybaby3 @lesbones

@chezze-its @lez-zuha

[robotpiez-sprites]

tricksters

more soon (?)

[robotpiez]

Meenah from Homestuck 2!

[utopianparadoxist]

On Roxy, Centrism, Gravitation, and Love

So Candy Roxy has gotten a lot of shit--rightfully so--for taking a consistently centrist and peacekeeping role in the Candy timeline. Generally averse to the spotlight and of the opinion that the Gods, with their outsize importance and cultural weight, should stay out of the governing affairs of regular people, Roxy has largely been reduced to a passerby watching as her friends plummet the world into chaos as they try to tear each other's throats out.

But there's another way to read her fundamental centrism, one where her focus and perspective simply aren't political, but rather interpersonal. As one redditor (I lost the comment and don't know who, sorry!) put it, they read Roxy in this latest update as a character striving to "keep everyone together", to pull the fracturing group back into unity.

Pulling things together. That sounds familiar.

It sounds, in fact, like Gravity. "In physics, gravity (from Latin gravitas 'weight'[1]) is a fundamental interaction primarily observed as a mutual attraction between all things that have mass." In other words, Gravity is a word we use to describe the fact that everything that physically exists, that has substance and matter, is inexorably pulled towards each other.

Rose describes gravitation as "the intrinsic nature of nothingness", that is to say, the nature of Void itself. And while the force of Gravity gets weaker the further things are spread apart, this weak and subtle force is what draws together cosmic gases that compact and condense into each other with such intensity that they give birth to the Stars themselves.

In this way, Void is a force which creates and becomes Light. And in the same way Gravity acts as a force pulling stellar objects together, laying the foundation for organized solar systems and ultimately Life itself--could Roxy be trying to act as a force pulling her friends into harmony reflect her relationship to the Void, right at the time the Black Hole threatens to grind them all into oblivion and they most need someone to rally them to a unified cause?

Let's see how deep we can dive into the dark.

--@lime-bloods's Void/Home Collage.

To start with, there's some required reading to understand where I'm trying to go. The image above is from Homestuck blogger @lime-bloods, who has done some absolutely brilliant work unpacking the symbolic importance of Black Holes.

I suggest reading the images above to grasp the full context of the idea, but in essence, it suggests that Black Holes are synonymous with the concept of the Home in the bounds of Paradox Space.

As Lime-bloods states, The local Black Hole of a Cherub's birthplace is identified as that Cherub's home, and Cherubs always return to this same black hole in order to reproduce. John's speech about the note that desolation plays makes reference to "the Voids keeping neighbors apart", in other words, the houses separating communities into families.

--@lime-bloods's Void/Home Collage.

The Sprites, too, are bound to the gravity of their player's Home during Sburb, unable to leave the house until the player reaches unlocks the ability to summon and eventually release them. This carries over into Homestuck: Beyond Canon, where almost every sprite manifests inside the Black Hole created by The Point.

The only exception to this is Jasprose, who A) As a Light player may have some natural resistance to the call of the Void and B) was the only Sprite explicitly released from her duty by her Player--Davepeta "released themselves" as Davesprite, but we don't know if that represents true freedom from their Sprite nature or merely a more nuanced rebellion against it. That's a tangent though, lets get to The Point.

--@lime-bloods's Void/Home Collage.

The Plot Point is a massive machine created by Roxy and Calliope for the purpose of stabilizing a Black Hole, a supermassive source of literal and narrative Gravity, and for all intents and purposes, it represents a Space/Void fraymotif, or feat of combined Aspect magic.

And what it does once Vriska dives into it is pull her into an cocoon forcing to re-experience of her old childhood Home, her very experience of being Homestuck, to force her to confront and grow past it. In this simulacra of her Home she has to contend with the toxic family dynamics she grew up with--Mindfang and Spidermom as her mothers, Doc Scratch as her groomer and symbolic father.

Diving into the Black Hole makes her once again Homestuck.

"...Understanding that Rose's lapse into alcoholism is her own way of succumbing to 'gravity' - a pull towards toxic familial cycles which not only evokes Vriska's own "addiction" to breaking 8-balls but also literally surrounds the drinker in a dark pocket - her allusions to the Void and gravity here are also tinged by her own experience and outlook as a Seer of Light (who heavily relied on a magic cue ball as her source; a fountain of information which is symbolically opposed to the information-consuming black hole)..." @lime-bloods reader response to my ask.

Lime-Bloods also draws the insight that Rose's relationship with alcoholism--brought out by her grief over the loss/absence/non-existence of Mom in the first place--is itself her succumbing to the call of Void, of Gravity, the narrative and force that pulls her toward Roxy, Mom, and her own childhood. It is in the midst of her alcoholism, after all, that she has the very revelation that leads her to tie Gravity and Nothingness/Void together in the first place.

There's another name for that force. Another form Gravity can take, that is experienced not narratively, but emotionally.

"My instinct is that Rose has reached the same conclusion I have: that 'gravity', as a metonym for the influence of a black hole, is just the inevitable pull towards oblivion. I think she's using "nothingness" as a euphemism for "space", over which gravity has dominion, but through this we can start to appreciate how the concepts of Space and Void weave into each other ("nothingness", "space" and "void" all being functional synonyms)..." @lime-bloods reader response to my ask.

At the same time that lime-bloods identifies Gravity with characters being pulled towards their homes--and so, emotionally, toward their histories with each other, in the context of Child/Guardian pairs-they also identify Gravity with the pull towards oblivion, towards nothingness.

Towards death, like how it was in death itself that Rose's mother gained the gravity to pull her daughter's heart closer to her, bringing all of Rose's love flooding to the surface. Death is itself a kind of nothingness after all, and while Space is the neighbor holding Void's left hand on the wheel, Void spins through the cosmos holding Doom's hand on its right.

And there's something interesting there when it comes to Roxy. A recurring pattern in her emotional responses to death and brushes with mortality. When Jaspers died and she held an elaborate funeral for him in an attempt to connect with Rose, like when Rose died and she held a private funeral for her and reached out to embrace Jaspers, when Dirk committed suicide in Candy and Roxy reacted by proposing to John at his funeral--

when faced with her mortality, Roxy reaches out for love.

She actually lays out this logic explicitly in the midst of her proposal. Death reminds her that time is finite, and that reminds her that what she wants to prioritize in her life is her love and connections to the people that matter to her.

John's inner thoughts in response to her proposal describe love in a rather interesting way, too--describing it as a feeling that goes "unexamined", unobserved, not directly paid attention to, as if out of the spotlight of the concious mind, until it becomes overwhelming and crashes over you.

As if a mass of cosmic nebulae gaining enough Gravity to compact gases together intensely enough to birth Stars--or Light. This association between realized Love and Light isn't new--as the aspect of Truth and Importance, the original comic associates Light with almost every major pairing, including Dirkjake, Vrisrezi, Rosemary and Roxycallie.

But the process of being drawn closer together and developing love, of strangers becoming acquaintances becoming friends becoming family or life partners, gaining importance in each other's eyes through the mutual attraction of Gravity--that process tends to take place mostly in the Void in original Homestuck, askance and askew from the viewer's perspective, hidden and private.

Though perhaps I shouldn't limit the force of Gravity entirely to the word "Love" (perhaps Passion is a better one, Heart's echo to Void's Gravity as a horizontally mirrored pair on the wheel) after all, Terezi tells John that the purpose of kissmesitude is ultimately to force both partners to "Shine a Light" on parts of themselves that would otherwise go ignored in other to improve both parties, meaning Hate can serve much the same purpose.

Dirk, for example, shines a light on massive problems with himself and with his effects on other people interpersonally through his relationships with Jake (Love) and Hal (Hate). Both force him to contend with himself and grow, enabling his eventual rooftop conversation with Dave.

Coming back to the Candy timeline in this latest update, we find Roxy trying to pull everyone in a centrist position on the matter of Jane, again reaching out to the friends she knows and loves for support when faced with the imminent mortality of someone she cares about. She finds nothing.

The thing is, the call towards love, towards Home, isn't inherently either good or bad. What I'd call it instead is essential, as in that in the same way gravity pulls astral bodies together and keeps us bound to Earth, it is in the essence of people to be pulled towards one another.

This contextualizes the Home as a Void symbol somewhat. Above all else, what a Home literally is is a House, and what a House really is is Empty. A house means nothing by itself, its purpose to be a hollow shell encasing people away from the elements.

It is the shared life, the mutual draw of love or the conflict and hate between the people sharing that Home that defines it, that gives it distinct meaning, whether for the better or for the worse. Without that inner Light, a House is indeed a perfectly generic object--an oversized Box, forgettable, infinitely replaceable. A microcosm of the Void itself.

So as Lime-Bloods says, Gravity/Love pulls Rose towards reliving toxic family dynamics, and in this case it pulls Roxy towards saving the life of a fascist who will inevitably make the world more toxic and cruel for everyone, simply on the strength of feeling provided by Jane having been a core part of Roxy's Home herself.

That said, what is toxic in one context can be productive in another, and right now the Candy adults are desperately in need of a leader who can get them all to agree on a direction to take towards solving the very real, very imminent problem of the Black Hole obliterating the Candy Timeline to nothingness.

While Vriska suggests that it may be possible for them to save Earth C from its fate, it is really only Roxy that is stepping up to the plate of advocating for it, continuously emphasizing the metaphysical threat and her unwillingness to abandon her Home, and by association, the very Black Hole that entraps her.

She says it best herself: She feels it in her gut that they can still save this place, and who better than a Hero of Void to make that kind of determination? A Black Hole is after all as much a symbol of Void as it is one of Space.

So I suspect she's going to rise to the occasion of meeting this particular challenge, and if she does, she's going to do so on the merit of the Gravity/Love that keeps her bound to Earth C, in all its wretched beauty.

The two easiest ways I can think of to solve the Candy Earth situation are for either John to dive into the Point and become June, for all the Gods to work together on some sort of large-scale abstract fraymotif or combined God magic the likes of which we've never seen before, or some combination of both.

In any of those scenarios, it feels like Roxy will likely be coordinating and keeping the group on task, simply because everyone else is too distant and divided from each other. And all of this makes me think about someone else. The other Roxy, traveling to confront Dirk in Meat.

When I first read this update, Meat Roxy came off unusually cold to me, surprisingly callous about the idea of killing Dirk. He even came off as willing to do the deed himself if need be, and like he was simply asking Dave if he was up to the challenge.

Now I find myself wondering. It feels to me at the moment like Meat Roxy is playing it cool, so to speak, keeping his own cards close to his chest and deliberately providing the space for Dave to express his own feelings and opinion. Neither Roxy nor we get to hear Dave's answer, but considering Roxy even said he hopes things end hunky dory, he really asked the question as neutrally as possible, providing space for Dave to go either way without feeling judged.

But considering the lengths Jane was able to go and still have Candy Roxy's love keep her attached to her, at least as far as wanting to offer mercy, it seems likely to me that Meat Roxy would feel similarly merciful about Dirk. I'm sure Dirk will do everything in his power to make Roxy and Dave feel they have no choice but to try to end his life, but I think he and we may end up surprised at how far he'd have to go to really convince Roxy of that.

I suppose time will tell. This somehow feels incomplete--perhaps fittingly, even now it feels like nuances of both Void and Roxy escape me, and I find myself simply waiting for what the future will bring. But I think the association between Gravity and Love treads new ground on the subject of Void, and I hope you enjoyed reading about it.

Nothing to do now but wait for the next upd8.

Keep rising.

[comicaurora]

...What happens if I put a full twenty dollars into the urban fantasy vending machine?

it's been on the backburner for over a year, so nothing fresh, but for twenty dollars in the urban fantasy vending machine, here is a short vignette I haven't touched in a year and a half

The room was crisp and bright, all sharp edges and polished monochrome. The sun shone in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, refracting off the sparkling glass and steel spires that carved out the skyline and focusing with almost suspicious precision directly into my eyeballs. I slumped down further in my chair and squinted across at the empty desk. Everything was too damn bright.

“Can I get you anything, detective?”

The voice that rang out from behind me was innocent and musical. The woman it belonged to was not.

I scowled. “Absolutely not.”

“Suit yourself.” I could hear the indulgent smile. “The coffee’s very good, you know. I don’t settle for anything less than the best.”

“I’m sure.”

“And with a nose like yours, I’m sure you already knew.”

Water boiled, and a rich, bitter scent coiled through the air. It was good. Probably that Blue Mountain stuff, or - no. It had to be Turkish. Of course she’d do Turkish.

I squeezed my eyes shut and exhaled harshly. There was no way around it - I was exhausted. I’d hit the 48-hour sleep dep limit back on Saturday and had been burning through raw determination ever since. It was damn stupid of me, frankly. I probably couldn’t even handle arithmetic right now, let alone solve a mystery.

But it’d be real stupid of me to accept a drink from the most notorious poisoner in history, so I was just going to have to deal with it.

I reluctantly opened my eyes and the world blurred back into focus as a tall figure briefly eclipsed the dazzling display of sun-sparkled skyscrapers. A coffee cup settled on the desk with a soft clink. There was a rustle as she settled into the high-backed chair and leaned forward. The sun caught in her golden braided bun and played across the shoulders of her elegant black suit. Pale, slender hands clasped the coffee cup with practiced precision.

“So,” Medea said. “How can I help you today?”

Her eyes were honey-gold. Granddaughter of Helios, the myths had said, and the sun certainly seemed to be in the habit of favoring her. Her corporate empire dealt in energy. Geothermal, hydroelectric, solar, even nuclear - all those shiny, clean alternatives that were slowly outcompeting the old oil-burning models. Her power stations were already keeping the lights on for half of the eastern united states. It was a hell of a niche she’d carved out for herself, and like everything else she’d ever done, she was stunningly good at it. Then again, for a demigod princess and compulsive social climber, the world of corporate politics must’ve felt like a home away from home.

Her gaze was steady and level, like I wasn’t cutting into her busy workday. Like she had all the time in the world.

Well. She did, didn’t she?

I sighed. “There’s a new drug on the streets.”

“Is it Tuesday already?”

“This one’s different.” I rubbed my eyes. “Right now, they just think it’s a hallucinogen.”

“And?”

“It’s not. It shows what’s really there.”

The coffee cup froze halfway to her lips. “How much?”

“Can’t tell for sure. Sounds like they’re seeing fairies, sprites, goblins, standard hidden world stuff… but I’m pretty sure it cuts through glamour. Might even go deeper, start showing shifter’s true forms.” I leaned back. “The secret world won’t stay secret for long if the users and abusers start comparing notes. I was half-tempted to take some of the stuff myself just to find out how much they know, but I’m not exactly a neutral test subject.”

“Yes, between your physiology and your temperament, that would be very unwise.” The clink of her cup cut off my half-hearted retort. “Do you have any mortal friends who might be willing to take the plunge?”

I barked a bitter laugh. “All my mortal friends are wizards or cops.”

“Unfortunate. I see why you came to me.” She leaned back, lacing her fingers together. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, but this is the first I’ve heard of it.”

Damn. Damn. Why was I surprised?

“That kind of potion isn’t really my style anyway,” she said. “Illusions and the breaking thereof are rather… outside my typical wheelhouse.”

“I know, I know.” I rubbed my eyes again. “I didn’t think you were making the stuff. I just hoped maybe you knew something. Nobody knows where it’s coming from.”

“The Goblin Market?”

“Obviously some people are dealing it through there, but I don’t have a supplier.”

“Tricky.” She leaned back. “What’s the delivery method?”

“That’s the weird part. It’s topical.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “Unusual. No ingestion or injection?”

“No.” I dug into my jacket pocket and pulled out the scuffed stainless steel tin, then dropped it on her desk. “Kid up in Wicker Park saw me, dropped this and ran. Broad daylight. I wasn’t even changed.”

“You do cut an intimidating figure regardless.”

I scowled. “I don’t know what he saw.”

She nodded once, then gestured at the tin. “Do you mind?”

“Be my guest.” I sank deeper into the chair.

She delicately picked up the tin and traced a nail around the lid. “The container is mundane.”

“Yep.”

She turned it in her hands, the battered metal catching the light. Then she cracked the lid.

I braced myself and squeezed my eyes shut. The smell was overwhelming and utterly unidentifiable - syrupy, sickly, wormwood and petrichor and rot. The headache I’d been nursing intensified.

I heard her sniff. Lucky woman. She had to try to smell the stuff.

“Otherworldly ingredients.” There was a click and the smell dissipated. I risked cracking an eye open. She’d replaced the lid and was staring at the container pensively.

“What do you think?”

She arched an eyebrow. “Maybe I should be asking you. If I want to identify the makeup of an unknown mixture, I need a full lab and the favor of Hekate. You just need your nose.”

I groaned. “All I know is it’s weird and I hate it.”

“Weird?”

“Weird! I can’t pin it down. It almost smells like something, but” - I waved my hands vaguely - “it’s all wrong.”

Medea stared for a moment, then set down the tin. “Detective, have you ever been to fairyland?”

“I assume you’re not being euphemistic,” I said, rubbing my eyes.

“No. I’m referring to the realm of fairy. Built on the ruins of Tír na nÓg, ruled by the Fairy Queen, land of glamour and illusion, home of the people of the hills. You must be familiar.”

“Of course I am.”

“But you’ve never been there?”

“I don’t do otherworld travel if I can help it.” I sat up. “Why?”

Medea idly traced a finger over the tin. “The bones of the fairy realm are very real, but for the most part, the realm is a beautiful illusion starving for reality. Your senses are entranced by a perfect, glamorous experience, but your body and soul waste away. Surely you’re familiar with the harmful effects of fairy food?”

“On paper.” I glanced at the tin. “You think this is some kind of illusion?”

“Just the opposite.” She tapped the lid sharply. “Fairyland is nothing more than the eternal dream of the Fairy Queen, but Tír na nÓg is as real as you or I. A land of promise and plenty, lost to ruin when its link to this world withered away. Its denizens fading to shades, its fruits and flowers rotting and decaying where they grew.”

I frowned. “This… this isn’t your area. Why do you know so much about this?”

She sighed. “Really, detective. Did you really think, over three thousand years, I stayed entirely in the mediterranean?”

“No, of course not-“

“After my flight from Athens I broadened my horizons significantly. I have visited the realm of Fairy several times.” She wrinkled her nose. “Of course, after the Tír fell to ruin, the quality of ingredients I could acquire plummeted rather dramatically. Gossamer illusions make for poor potions.”

I tried to cut through the fog in my head. Things were coming together. “You… think this was made in fairyland?”

“I think it was, at minimum, made from fairyland.”

“The smell… is odd. Like a floral perfume gone wrong. Rot making everything sweeter.” I scowled. “Not an illusion. Illusions don’t smell that bad.”

“Good,” she said. “Then some industrious denizen appears to have scoured the far edges of Fairyland to acquire ingredients from the ruins of the Tír.”

[sadhours]

dirty laundry

billy hargrove x fem!reader

masterlist • requests open

cw: 18+ minors dni, established relationship, smut, public sex, swallowing c*m hehehe I missed billy

🧡🧡🧡🧡

it’s kind of fitting. after a weekend of partying, you had to do some laundry. so monday morning, 9 AM, you’re sitting in the laundromat beside your boyfriend. you’re hungover. billy smokes a Marlboro and the smell is making you nauseous. you’re nursing a sprite he’d bought you from the vending machine. he has a coke. you’re somewhat regretting not indulging in the breakfast beer billy offered you but the thought of the booze had made your stomach twist something wicked. the shitty speakers spill a tinny “dirty laundry” by don henley.

“this songs actually pretty badass,” billy mumbles around the butt of his smoke, tapping his scuffed motorcycle boots.

you frown, “i like don henley.”

your boyfriend laughs, it’s a loud bellow and you really wish you had that beer to dull the headache splitting your head. but you love his laugh.

“like him like you’d suck his dick or…?” he teases and you roll your eyes despite the way it pains you.

“no, not my type,” you grumble. “i like his music.”

there’s a liquor store two stores up. you keep rubbernecking out the window at it and your boyfriend picks up on it. he reaches over and squeezes your knee, “regretting not having a beer with me this morning?”

“a little,” you gripe, “the lights are too bright, your cigarette stinks and i’m so tired.”

billy leans close to you with a pout, eyebrows furrowed. he looks adorable, even though he’s condescending you. “want me to go get baby a shot and a beer?”

“would you?” you ask, all wide eyed in a silent beg you know gets him.

he smirks, leans forward and bites your nose. it pulls a giggle from you which is exactly what you need. “i’ll be back,” he grabs your face and squeezes it before pulling away and heading out the door, it chimes with his steps. you lean back and watch his ass saunter down the sidewalk in his too-tight Levi’s.

once he disappears into the liquor store, you bring your attention back to the washing machine. watching as your clothes spin in circles, which doesn’t do anything positive for the spinning happening in your gut so you look away quickly. billy’s hard to keep up with but you’ve never had so much fun in your life. and he’s so sweet, really, when he wants to be. you’d kind of saved him when you brought up him moving him after only a month of hooking up. you were shocked when he jumped at the opportunity but that was before you met neil. it makes sense now. your boyfriend is free to be himself, and you love every bit of him.

he’s quick in the liquor store, returning and hopping up on the row of unused washing machines opposite the chair you’re sitting in. he opens up the black plastic back and displays a little bottle of Jack Daniels.

“come get your hair of the dog, baby,” he says in a seductive voice, all low as he wiggles his eyebrows. you extend your hand and then his brows furrow, “I got you trained better than that. C’mere, girl.”

you exhale with a frustrated sigh but obey your sexy beyond belief boyfriend. standing up and taking the few short steps to situate yourself between his thighs.

“atta girl,” he purrs, opening the shooter and pressing it to your lips, “head back, foxy.”

you lean your head back, downing the shot in a quick three gulps. he hums, all satisfied as he watches. the whiskey isn’t sitting in your tummy the best but the way billy chases forward and licks a drip off your chin quells any sickness. he follows it with a filthy kiss, tongue dragging against yours as his right hand grabs the back of your head, knitting his fingers into the roots of your hair and tugs lightly. a helpless little whine escapes from your throat but billy swallows it, smiling into the dirty kiss. once he pulls away, he smirks, eyes darker than before.

“better?”

you nod, biting your lip as you look to him. billy retrieves the shooter he bought for himself and downs it easily, like it doesn’t make his stomach curl. then he hands you a tall can of beer, opens it for you before he does. you take an eager sip to get the bitterness of the whiskey off your tongue. billy chuckles, it’s deep and rattles his chest. he nudges his nose against yours, “i know that look.”

“s’your fault,” you mumble, cheeks hot as you admit, “‘cause you kissed me like that.”

billy hums, hooks his knuckle under your chin and tilts your head up a bit. “like this?” he whispers back before pressing his lips to yours hungrily. licks into your mouth like you’re not in public and has your spine tingling, thighs warm and cunt aching. you respond by kissing him back just as desperately, putting your beer down beside him before both your hands move to grip his white t-shirt. his mouth tastes like whiskey, cigarettes and Billy. You get lost in it, moaning pathetically as you make out like a couple of high school kids.

Then the dryer buzzes, loud and jarring. You pull away, groaning softly before strutting over to the machine. You open it, grabbing a cart and wheeling it over. You tug all the clothes into basket, reaching in deep and wiggling your ass because you can feel your boyfriends eyes on it. You don’t even realize he’s jumped off the washers and made his way behind you until he’s kicking the cart away and grabbing onto your hips.

“you missed something,” he tells you, all nonchalant.

“huh?” you peer inside the massive dryer but you don’t see anything. billy’s hips meet the fat of your ass, pushing your upper half deeper into the machine.

“it’s really in there,” he says, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your leggings. his other hand presses on the middle of your back, bending you over completely into the dryer. “almost there, you’re so close.”

you giggle, knowing exactly what you’re asshole of a boyfriend is doing. he pulls your leggings down to your thighs, moving his hand to rub your pussy through your underwear. you moan softly, still playing his game as you pretend to reach for the clothing he says in deep in there. billy’s impatient though, tugs your underwear down with your leggings. feels the slick collecting at your hole and hums, rubbing his fingers in circles at your entrance. his fingers are so thick, you can feel him stretching your hole just from the teasing. hangover suddenly forgotten, you’re spreading your legs and silently begging for him to slide inside you.

billy teases, “aw… keep reaching, baby… you’re almost there.”

his middle and ring finger slip inside your dripping cunt, the stretch delicious and intoxicating in their own right. he drags the pads of his fingers against your walls, pushing in and pulling out. your brains already fuzzy, eyes rolling back before your lids flutter shut. he laughs, soft and sultry as he fucks you with his fingers. out in the open. anyone can walk in here or hell, walk by and see your boyfriend bending you into the industrial dryer and fingering you senseless. the rush of it only make your cunt slicker.

he scissors his fingers, stretching your hole open wider as he smoothes his other hand over the expanse of your back.

“god, you’re so fucking wet,” billy exhales, his voice echoing slightly into the drum of the dryer. hits your ears something fierce. has you pushing your ass back at him. you moan out, nails dragging against the metal of the dryer as he finger fucks you open.

you don’t even hear the sound of his zipper or the shuffle of him pushing his jeans back. suddenly he’s pulling his fingers out and you feel the round, thick tip of his cock pushing at your pussy.

“fuck, billy,” you gasp, arching your back just slightly.

“atta girl,” he purrs, “so wet and desperate for my cock, yeah?”

“yeah— ah!” your response is hijacked by a moan, result of billy snapping his hips forward and completely sheathing his girthy cock in your fluttering hole.

he groans, a vibrating and sexy sound. let’s you know you feel so so so good for him. he doesn’t go slow, a hand on the small of your back and the other on your hip as he bullies his cock deep in your walls. billy always makes you feel like such a desperate slut. knows he can use and abuse your hole whenever and however. and how the fuck could you say no? the stretch is fucking unworldly. his cock is a goddamn masterpiece. crafted by the gods themselves to help please. if there ain’t nothing else to live for, billy’s cock is all you need.

once he’s inside you, you’re fucking gone. cockdrunk in a second. his hands move to knead at your ass as he pummels into you. rough and reckless. so billy. reality slips, you’re not even thinking about how the two of you are in a public place. fucking so filthy, so rough where there’s nowhere to hide. if you get caught, you get caught and you don’t fucking care. both so zoned in on getting off.

your hips slightly ache from where they bounce against the edge of the dryer but the sensation of Billy deep in your cunt dulls any pain. his cock pulsing as it drags in and out of your fluttering walls. you squeeze him, want him buried so deep and dirty.

“that’s it, slut,” he groans, voice deep as it bounces around the drum of the deeper, “taking my cock like a good girl.”

you whine back, not able to do much else. there’s no way you could form sensible thoughts. you ache to tell him how fucking good it feels but it’s useless, would fumble out of your mouth like word soup because billy fucks you stupid.

it’s a fucking joke when he moves his hand around your hip to rub at your clit. his goal is to get you to cum as quick as he can, because once those skilled fingers start strumming against your clit, your legs are shaking and your voice is uncontrollable in the moans bellowing from you.

“you gonna cum for me?” he chuckles, circles firm and quick against your clit, “so easy. such an easy slut for me, ain’t ya?”

“billy…” you cry in a plea, a whiny and pathetic sound. you’re on the edge, you can see it. each little stroke of his fingers and each drag of his cock against your tight walls threatens to toss you over it.

“ya wanna cum?” he spits, fingers working faster, “cream all over my cock, be a good slut for daddy.”

that sends you. a deep breath and sinking over the edge you go, crying out in absolute ecstasy as his cock works you overtime. drags your orgasm out with his fingers not letting up. you’re dead weight after, billy’s hands moving to your hips to hold you up as he barrels his cock faster and faster into your sensitive cunt. he pulls back rather quickly, grabbing your hair and pulling you out of the dryer.

“on your knees,” he instructs and you obey, hands on his thighs to steady you as you stick your tongue out flat. eyes wide and needy as you gaze up at your boyfriend. a curl has fallen into the center of his forehead, blue eyes dark with lust as he fingers move to grip his cock, jerking it in quick and firm strokes. “that’s it, good girl, yeah…”

he busts, spilling cum into your eager tongue. you love the taste of billy’s cum. abnormally sweet for a guy whose diet consists of booze and red meat. and when billy cums, he doesn’t close his eyes. he stares down at you, his lips part and you can see the swell of his tongue against his lower lip as he moans. you swallow, licking your lips so you don’t miss any.

he reaches for the back of your hand, scratching at the back of your scalp as he smiles warmly down at you. after a beat of lovingly looking at each other, you both get dressed. you plant a sloppy kiss on his lips before moving to transfer the load from the washer into the dryer. billy sits on the chairs and lights up another cigarette.

“you’re something else, foxy,” he grins, cheeks flushed all pretty.

[ironrose-stylistlegion]

Ranking How Difficult It Would Be to Fight the Various Creatures in Miraland

7. Easiest: Giftys

Even though Giftys are the arbiters of all styling battles, they show no sign of having any defensive abilities. It's also (somewhat) canon that Giftys are edible. This leads me to believe that at least some of them were hunted for food at some point.

6. Faewish Sprites

This might be a controversial pick, considering Faewish Sprites have an entire organized force dedicated to fighting and are shown in-game actually beating people up.

However, I think that's literally just a skill issue. If I was fighting a Faewish Sprite, I would wait for it to fly at me with its stupid little wooden sword, and then I would hit it with a baseball bat and send it flying.

The only reason Faewish Sprites aren't ranked last is because 1. Giftys are pathetic in a fight and 2. I think they could probably shoot each other out of their canons at their opponents and do some real damage.

5. Pieceys

Most weapons wouldn't work on a Piecey because they're just pieces of cloth, but we do know from the Caged Greed boss fight that they can be taken down with enough blunt force trauma. That might be difficult because they can fly, but it's doable.

Alternatively, you could use a flamethrower.

4. Croakers

They seem harmless and relatively easy to fight, but I don't think we should underestimate them. I feel like they could do a jumping kick at me and knock me over very easily. They could also hit me with their long frog tongues, and from there the fight would be over because I would be so uncomfortable that I would just have to leave.

The flamethrower would work on these guys as well.

3. Momo Clan

To be honest, I think taking Momo down in a fight would be quite easy. It's actually Momo's grandpa that gives me pause. His abilities are unknown. I would proceed with caution.

2. Cadenceborn

Kilo is the only Cadenceborn we've met so far, and he seems relatively harmless. It's important to consider that we've never seen him truly threatened, though. Additionally, the other Cadenceborn could be lean mean killing machines, and we just don't know it yet.

The sheer size of the Cadenceborn also concerns me. I'm not sure what weapon would take a Cadenceborn down. What could penetrate their scaly exteriors? Much to think about.

1. Hattys

These things scare me.

[pjomakesyourkidsgay]

. . . leo valdez

˖°𓇼 bf!leo absolutely ends up being an accidental romantic. bf!leo who doesn't really care that it's valentines day, specifically, but he just really likes to spend time with you and make you happy. bf!leo who cracks annoying jokes and calls you weird terms of endearment like "cute little chicken mcnugget" and "adorable miniscule metal scrap with eyes" and "special sparky mcdonald's sprite". bf!leo who drags you to a burger king at a ghastly eight in the morning to grab a burger because he was working late the night before. bf!leo who makes an effort to clean out bunker nine so that you can spend the day there comfortably. bf!leo who, out of nowhere, takes you out on a ride with festus to get groceries for a spontaneous private camping night. bf!leo who prepares his famous tofu tacos just for you. bf!leo who starts the bonfire but ends up getting his hair on fire. bf!leo who plays just dance with you on a switch he made. he definitely knows all the latest dances. bf!leo who tries to cheat in uno by making a machine but he fails because you can see every little thing he's doing. bf!leo who toasts the marshmallows just perfectly. bf!leo who tells festus to ward off every other camper that tries to get near your date site. bf!leo who makes you little custom gifts made out of the extra parts and pieces of his projects. bf!leo who warms you up at night by cuddling with you. bf!leo who lets you play with his unruly, curly mess of hair. bf!leo who's a total best friend kind of boyfriend. bf!leo who reserves the most emotional part of him for your eyes only because of the immense trust he has for you. bf!leo who can't go a full day without, at some point, holding your hand in his perpetually warm, calloused ones. bf!leo who falls asleep next to you, his face buried in your stomach as he snores, really loudly...

"bro, pay attention to me."

leo's head whips away from whatever he's tinkering with between his fingers, sending you a carefully practiced look, one eyebrow raised to his hairline. "bro?"

"i'm-"

"well, okay, dude," he shoots back. "what is it you want to tell me, buddy? are you alright, mate? perhaps this chap right o'here wanted a l'il ol' chat? well, buckaroo, did you want attention from your special bruzz?"

"leo!" you shove him by the shoulder, cackling at the offended look on his face (that had melted the moment you started laughing at his antics). if you hadn't called his name he might've named every name in the book of bro code, and you really didn't need that. even festus blew a column of smoke into the latino's face.

"i know we're comfy and all but a random bro? seriously? weren't we just kissing by the fire?"

"that's enough," you interrupt him, a hue of red flushing your features, but if anyone asked you'd swear it was the flame reflecting back on your face. "i'm sorry, my hyper little elf boyfriend. is that better?"

"infinitely so, my blushing fairy maiden of a girlfriend, though we should go easy on the 'little'."

"i'm not blushing!"

"of course not, it must be my eyes playing tricks on me."

you shove him, again, with your foot this time. your socks were matching with his, cute miniscule fire-breathing dragons in yellow and red. "hey, you're gonna make me drop this!"

you halt your attack and scoot on over closer to him, peeking over his shoulder, his dark curls poking your eye. "what's that?"

"woah, there, ms. nosy!" he yelps, tucking the item back into a clasped hand and throwing an arm around your waist, bringing you down. "not yet." he mutters incoherent things, muffled because of his face practically pressing up against your stomach.

you complain immediately in his hold. "you're too hot."

"yeah, i know i'm hot."

"you suck!" you try to wriggle out of his grasp but he pulls you closer, holding onto you as if you were a giant teddy bear. "leo, i'm going to start overheating!"

he looks up at you then, grinning. "then we'll overheat together."

you give his hair a slight (and loving) yank, plastering a serious face on. "bruh."

"that's so not sigma of you," he whines, sitting back up and pulling something out of his pocket. "alright, then, i'll give it to you now."

"are you gonna fight me? get ready to catch these hands, you absolue L rizz."

"i'm supposed to be the brainrot one!"

with a joking eyeroll, he finally opens his hands in the way one would do when proposing. in his palm was a little metal box, about two inches on all sides, tightly closed.

you watch it for a couple of seconds, finally realizing that it wasn't about to do anything. you look at the latino boy questioningly.

"put the pad of your thumb here," he points at the spot, "it has a fingerprint sensor. it opens only to you."

so you do as you're told, and the tiny box opens, transformers-style. a round, rotating platform rises from the middle, showing tiny statues of what could only be you and him mid-wrestle, faces contorted with mirth. your favorite song plays as mini-you-and-leo spin around to the music, a scene of pure love between the two of you captured with the perfect backtrack.

"oh my gods," you gasp out, lips parted. you reach out to push his hands safely out of the way before kissing him. lips on lips, full of passion and obvious gratitude.

you pull away, he's still wonderstruck, you're peppering kisses all over his cute face with a 'thank you' between each one.

"ladies, ladies!" he laughs, closing the music box and placing it gently into your hand. "calm down! take a few deep breaths."

you open the box again immediately after you receive it, singing the lyrics to the song softly until leo kisses your cheek and sings them louder, word for word.

eventually the night dissolves into song, into you and leo's song, and screw it if all the other campers can't sleep.

dividers by: @strangergraphics and @ianrkives

[wordsinhaled]

The things Charles touches in Hell

Everyone run and look at @qwanderer's amazing gifset of the things Charles touches in hell that inspired this meta!!!!

TL;DR Charles' journey to get Edwin is not just retracing Edwin's steps following the maps in the notebook but also on some level specifically reflects the doubts Charles holds about his own capacity to be a good person (and, extrapolating from Edwin's confession, a worthy romantic partner for Edwin in the future). Everything Charles touches in Hell (the mirror in Limbo, the bell, the lock, the claw machine + Maxine grabbing him on the stairs) is designed to sow doubt in Charles - incidentally, much like Orpheus experiences doubt on the journey out of Hell with Eurydice.

-

The mirror

The mirror shows Charles his reflection, which he hasn't been able to see since he died. Jayden said in a Cameo that when he acted in this moment he was embodying Charles giving himself a pep talk about saving Edwin - so he's thinking about whether he is different enough from his father to be able to pull off this rescue, whether he's capable of it.

The mirror also reminds him that, being corporeal in Hell, he doesn't have the capacity to mirror-hop to Edwin, which would have been the easiest way to get to him. It's a tool he'd have had as an incorporeal ghost, a tool that he lacks in Hell. The mirror highlights Charles's need to be Useful to his loved ones and the doubt that if he isn't capable of being useful (especially in rescuing/protecting them), he isn't loveable. Later he says to Edwin "Well, I'm here now," and is able to use the tools in the bag of tricks to distract the doll spider and get Edwin to safety.

And though I don't think Charles is as consciously aware of this bit, the mirror's also a bit of a metaphor for Charles' people-pleasing and how Charles effaces himself in favor of his loved ones. Charles isn't able to be seen in reflections normally, as a ghost, just as he puts the comfort and mood of others above showing his authentic feelings/frustrations, so he isn't "seen" in those relationships. In the mirror in Hell, he can see himself, for the first time in over three decades, and it echoes a fear/doubt that if he shows up fully present in a relationship, romantic or otherwise, he will take up too much space for himself, or people won't like what the see when he is visible.

The bell

The bell speaks to Charles's doubts about impulsivity and its unintended negative consequences. Charles' on-the-spot impulsive decisions are a theme throughout the show - he identifies himself as "the one who does shit like this" in the pilot when possessing Esther. And he compensates for or offsets these things really successfully with resourceful thinking (see: the enchanted jar to replace the sprites' smashed vessel, etc.), and his quick thinking is a huge strength. But the bell here is an example to Charles of a time his impulsivity hurt others, even without him realizing.

Charles and Edwin have an exchange about it: "What about the bell?" "No - it hurts them." Charles experiences direct proof that his impulsive action caused harm to others that he can't fix or soothe, and this moment leads directly into Charles slowing down to take time to process/figure out his feelings for Edwin during the staircase confession rather than impulsively saying he was in love back right away. The bell reflects his fear of how his impulsivity could be a hurdle or liability in his relationships. The bell can also represent the fear that even something that typically makes Charles an asset to Edwin, a strength or a positive, can become something harmful if Charles isn't careful. It's the doubt that Charles' quick thinking, which complements Edwin's more regimented nature and desire to always "have a proper plan in place," could have an unintended harmful shadow side if Charles allows it to, so that he can't trust himself.

Also, the ringing of the bell that is meant to summon someone, much like the mirror, also speaks to Charles' desires to take up space and be perceived by others, and ties back to his doubt that he might take up too much space in a dynamic with someone else. Charles has missed being visible and living, wished to be "seen by someone his own age who's alive." The 'attention' piece might reflect Charles' occasional showiness - which became comfortable over years with Edwin, but which while alive he probably used to associate with negative consequences for himself for taking up 'too much space' or otherwise putting himself in a position where his dad or his peers would 'cut him down to size,' so to speak.

The ringing of the bell at a counter is, in theory, used to seek attention or service from someone, which would also mean Charles knowing what he wants in order to ask for it - and, in a relationship, being able to articulate his desires and needs. It would mean Charles subverting his usual way of being where he makes sure others have everything they need, to prioritize his own wants and needs. It represents his doubt of his ability to be vulnerable in a relationship.

The lock

Irene's phrasing "manipulate for access" about the lock got me thinking about the idea of Charles being able to pick any lock, having confidence in his ability to do so, and even others having confidence in his skill at it ("Big lock" "I'm sure you can open it"). It parallels Charles being good with people, being the one who "everyone likes […] eventually" because he's a "good sort of chap" - but also makes me think it reflects a fear that others will be taken in by the façade of affability he takes care to put on for others' comfort, and make themselves vulnerable to him only for him to hurt them. The classic sort of not-wanting-to-continue-the-cycle-of-abuse type fears.

The bell also highlights Charles's differences from David (who Crystal says "must have lied to [her]" to get her to "let him in" to possess her, as Edwin put it in that same scene). Charles doesn't actually manipulate people for access to their bodies, but it calls back to the doubts he experiences in 'The Case of the Two Dead Dragons' about being compared to Crystal's ex/Brad and Hunter in how they exploited women. The lock also speaks to the doubt that once he has actually gotten someone to like him, or if he were to enter into a relationship with Edwin, they're only there because they've been 'taken in.' Charles knows how to be a "cute distraction" to others or a temporary fling, he doesn't think people should be let in to see the dark emotions at the depths of him that he suppresses. The lock is a bit tied into the claw machine, I think.

The claw machine

The claw machine is associated with grabbing prizes and reflects Charles' self-doubt in general and the ways he seeks praise. It speaks to his issues with feeling fundamentally deserving of love and the fear/doubt that he doesn't actually deserve the "prizes" he gets (being praised by others, or receiving Edwin's love without any expectations or conditions).

It's also a game, and in those types of claw games there's usually a lot of maneuvering the claw, trying over and over and failing to grab the prize, "falling short" if you will, even despite having skill at the game; the prize might slip free and be lost, etc. - much like how Charles always felt he was falling short of his dad and never reaching making him happy/proud ("no matter how nice I was, or how good at sports I was"). When it comes to Charles + games: Cricket was a game Charles excelled at and yet never quite made the mark of his father's approval no matter how many trophies he got, etc.

The claw machine can also be a metaphor for the cycle of abuse. It speaks to the idea that Charles was caught up in a sort of 'rigged game' - an endless cycle of abuse in which his abusers held physical, emotional, social, or systemic power over him and he would inevitably end up 'losing' the game with its uncertain rules and would be hurt (by his dad/his peers or by society). While alive he was playing the assimilation/likeability game with his friends for the prize of feeling belonging, only for them to turn out to be the ones to kill him.

(Notably, the way out that Edwin ended up taking was a hole smashed in the wall behind the claw machine, bypassing the game entirely - and Charles retraces the path Edwin took. This shows how Charles doesn't need to actually keep trying and failing to reach an unattainable/shifting goalpost in order to be loved unconditionally or be deserving of love. It also foreshadows he can take a different path that would break the cycle of abuse, that indeed he is already breaking it.)

+ Maxine

Bonus, since this one touched him and not vice versa - Maxine grabbing Charles on the stairs and knocking him off-balance. In life Maxine was a stalker, an abusive person who was invasive towards and controlling towards her romantic interest. Ultimately she became physically violent and tried to kill Jenny. This has been spoken on in other metas, but much like the Devlin House reflected his fears of becoming like his dad, Charles encountering Maxine on the stairs reflects Charles' basic fears of continuing the cycle of abuse in a romantic relationship and emotionally or physically hurting his partner by being overbearing/controlling/violent. Maxine being present on the staircase during the confession also underscores this doubt in Charles.