#(mostly w writing) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

apomaro-mellow · 3 months

Text

Hot for Teacher(s)

Part 1/? Read on AO3

Omegaverse modern au where steddie are both teachers. Eddie is teaching single omega Steve's son.

Eddie let out a satisfied sigh as the latest parent left his classroom. Parent/teacher conferences were always a tad stressful, even if there was no tangible reason to be. Most of his kids were doing well in all their subjects. There were only a couple behavioral outliers but Eddie knew that those parents rarely showed up but from professional and personal experience.

The main reason he didn't look forward to these was how selective kids could be with the information they shared. More than once in his years, a parent would arrive with a bone to pick about a problem that was apparently happening in the classroom that Eddie had no idea was occurring. These kids came up to him ten times a day to tell him what their little sister had for lunch two days ago but god forbid they admit when they have a problem with another student.

Today's appointments had mostly been smooth, though. It typically wasn't the quote unquote problem children whose parents showed up anyway. He just had one more person to go and then he could run out the clock fixing up his room until he was allowed to go.

He double checked the name. Shawn Harrington. Good kid. Bright, active, and it sounded like their parent had arrived.

"Mr. Munson? Hi, I'm Shawn's dad."

Eddie looked up to see a total smoke show.

"Hi", he cleared his throat when it squeaked out. "Nice to meet you, come in, have a seat." Eddie had Shawn's folder ready, like the other kids to show any work that should be highlighted, as well as his grades up on his laptop. "So did you have any concerns or worries about Shawn?"

Eddie quickly went in autopilot. It was the only way he was going to get through this. He was going to keep his eyes from drifting to that smooth sweep of this man's hair. He wasn't going to hyperfocus on his pretty lips. He wasn't going to gaze deeply into those chocolate brown eyes. He wasn't going to flare his nostrils to take in more of his scent. And he definitely wasn't going to check his fingers for any rings.

Bare hands.

Very nice hands.

They had a nice, brief conversation about the student's progress, and Eddie couldn't help but give him a glowing review. Even if Mr. Harrington wasn't totally hot, his kid was a wonder at times.

"He listens and pays attention well, always raising his hand to answer questions. If you don't mind me saying so, he just seems really prepared for school."

Which was saying something when many of the other first graders were still asking things like 'do we have to do math?' or 'are we going home today?' Eddie remembered being little and having pretty much no control over his life, so he could relate to the tiny ones still getting the hang of school. But kids like Shawn were a breath of fresh air.

"He did pretty well in kindergarten and I put him in daycare pretty early", Mr. Harrington said. "He gets really excited for school and I can tell he really likes you so far."

His smile could have blinded Eddie. He wanted to gush on just to keep seeing that smile.

"That means a lot, thank you." It wasn't a strong stigma but sometimes people got iffy over an alpha teaching children so young. It was thought they needed the 'gentler' hand of an omega. His eyes drifted back down to Mr. Harrington's hands. Yep, there was no ring there.

Now Eddie would never ask out or even flirt with a parent. That was off limits. But you know, if he got a little creative with his fantasies... well, you can't go to jail for thought crimes.

They said their parting words and Eddie was definitely not watching that ass in those khaki slacks. God, was there anything more cliche than him being a teacher and having the hots for a parent? He tried to keep his mind off it as he fixed up his classroom. He wouldn't even be seeing the guy that much. Not unless something came up with Shawn. And that kid was kind of an angel.

It was Friday, so once he was done, he went home to enjoy his weekend. Come Monday, there was a cacophony of voices. Half talking to each other and the other half trying to both greet him good morning and get right into another conversation. Eddie took it all with a smile.

"Mr. Munson, did you tell my mom about my butterfly!?", Theresa exclaimed, pointing to their bulletin board where their work hung.

"Mr. Munson, I got cheez-its in my lunch today", Victoria said, opening up said lunch box.

"Did you really talk to our parents?", Walker asked, arms crossed.

"Most of them", Eddie answered once they gave him a breath to speak.

"He talked to my dad", Shawn said. "And he said you said I was good."

"That I did", Eddie nodded, watching them as they put their coats and bookbags away. Theresa and Walker were known to fight over hooks.

"Mr. Munson, did you know my dad is a teacher too?", Shawn asked.

"I did not know that. Explains why you're so ready for school."

"Yeah, we practiced", Shawn said as he sat down to get started on the warm up.

Eddie raised a brow, wanting to ask what he meant by that, but his attention was grabbed when there was a shriek and a cry from Yasmin. He steeled his nerves for the day. He would need the fortitude.

-------------------------

When Steve walked into the classroom to meet Mr. Munson, he didn't know what to expect. He regretted missing Back to School Night, but his had been on the same evening and as a teacher, he couldn't miss it. But Shawn had nothing but good things. So he went in with optimism.

And was met with a gorgeous, gorgeous man sitting at the teacher's desk. For a second, Steve was sure he had the wrong room.

"Mr. Munson? Hi, I'm Shawn's dad."

His hair was pulled back in a bun and Steve's first thought was how it must look when it was down. Honestly, Steve couldn't tell you exactly what he had said. His tongue felt twisted the whole time as did his stomach. But Mr. Munson was smiling through it all and hadn't brought up anything bad about Shawn, so Steve must really be selling it.

He wanted to say that Mr. Munson's praise meant the world to him. That it wasn't always easy to bring up a kid as a single omega parent. But that felt too personal for a first meeting. And mentioning he was single would probably be too forward. When it ended, they shook hands, allowing Steve to get just a little close. He caught a whiff of his scent and instantly wanted more. At least enough to pinpoint what it reminded him off.

But he had to let go just as quickly and then leave without lingering. He was NOT going to be the type of parent that made goo-goo eyes at his child's teacher. It wasn't like Shawn needed the leg up and Steve was done with his slut era. So even thought Mr. Munson could definitely get it, he was absolutely off limits.

And if Steve went home and immediately put the rest of the school year's events in his own calendar, that was simply because he was an amazing dad and for no other reason.

Part 2

#apo writes #stranger things #steddie #omegaverse #a/b/o #nothin like the smell of fresh new fic #and with this one i get to vent about my job #hoorah #this is mostly fluff w/some dramaaaa

291 notes · View notes

luxaofhesperides · 4 months

Text

Human/Mer AU + Bioluminescent Siren Duke ; requested by @justwannabecat!

The human hadn’t been in his territory recently.

He wasn’t attached or anything, but Duke had started to look forward to seeing him around. It was equal parts exciting and terrifying to be under the curious, watchful eyes of a human who could so easily be dragged down into the depths.

He knows he shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t be indulging this human’s curiosity, trying to lure him closer time after time. Holding the attention of any human is dangerous; Duke’s heard the stories plenty of time. He’s seen the damage humans can do even more.

There’s just something different about this human, who never dives too deep, who smiles at him and leaves little gifts in the tide pools tucked away from the rest of the beach, hidden from sight. Or rather, usually hidden from sight, since this human is the only one to go there.

It’s foolish, but Duke actually misses his human.

It’s not the first time he’d been gone for long stretches of time, but something feels off. There’s worry curling up at the base of his throat, making him swim to the surface more frequently. Steph had given him a look when she caught him, but didn’t say a word. She shouldn’t, really, when she’s been sneaking up to the surface for her own human friend, some small, dangerous human with dark hair and hands that speak more than a voice.

He’d seen her, just once, when he had gone up to splash water and his human then swim away.

Somehow, things felt easier back then. Like the horrors of the world couldn’t reach them among those tide pools.

It’s reached them now.

Duke’s not expecting to see his human when he swims up to the surface. He’s expecting another quiet night, an empty beach, a dark sky with only the moon casting its lonely light down onto him.

But when he swims up, his eyes go to a figure on the beach instantly.

Even from this distance, Duke knows: that’s his human.

He doesn’t think before he’s swimming over, pushing himself faster than he’s ever gone before. It’s low tide, so he can’t get as close as he wants and can’t reach most of the tide pools at all, but it gets him close enough. Human and merfolk vocal chords are different; he can speak in water, but can’t make more than a few hums in air, and humans can’t really do anything in water at all.

His human is sitting with his knees tucked into his chest on the beach. He’s hiding in his clothes, a hood pulled over his head, but he looks up when Duke drags himself onto the sand.

Duke can see bruises. Dried blood. A stray tear slipping out of his eyes.

He wants to ask what’s happened? But all that comes out is a low crooning noise.

His human laughs, a quiet, bitter noise that makes Duke’s chest tighten uncomfortably. “Hey,” he rasps in a low voice. “Been a while, hasn’t it? I hope you’ve had a better time than I did.”

Duke can’t reach his human. The distance between them isn’t great, but it’s too much. He’s already partially out of the water, hands sinking into the wet sand just out of reach of the waves, and he can’t get any farther out. He reaches a hand out, silently pleading for his human to come closer.

The move makes his human soften, some of the hard edge of tension in his body melt away. He gets up and walks into the water, then sits down next to Duke, taking his hand.

“I missed you,” he whispers.

If they were underwater, Duke would be able to say I missed you too. Don’t ever go away so long again. But his human is in no shape to go underwater right now, so Duke presses his hand against his lips and hums lightly.

They sit in silence for a moment, and Duke realizes that he’s never been this close to any human before. It doesn’t feel dangerous. It feels like relief, to finally have his human in his reach, safe from the rest of the world.

He gives him human another moment, then reaches out and carefully pushes his hood back. His human allows it, blinking at him slowly. Without the shadow of the hood, Duke can clearly see the bruise coloring his cheekbone and the cuts going down his temple to his jaw. His split lip is still red with blood, and what little of his throat isn’t hidden by his clothes reveals more bruises wrapped around the delicate column of his neck.

Duke ghosts his fingers over each of these injuries, hating how easily humans hurt each other. His human leans into the touch despite how it must hurt, something devastating in his expression.

Who hurt you comes out as a questioning trill. Somehow, it gets the point across.

“It’s alright,” his human says. “Really. I’m not even that hurt. It’s just been a long few months. We never talk much, so you wouldn’t know this, but I have to fight a lot of people. Perils of being a hero, you know?”

Duke knows about heroes. More specifically, he knows about mer heroes. He’s considered being one himself, but the currents shifted and he ended up more a loner, banding with the other rejects of the city to live in the fringes and help only those who wander out too far from the marginally safer waters within.

He hasn’t heard of any human heroes, but then again, he doesn’t know much about humans at all. Nothing beyond the stories all parents tell their children to scare them away from the surface, or the horror stories kids tell each other in the middle of the night when they want to scare each other.

He hums again to let his human know he’s listening. His human has such a nice voice. Why haven’t they done this before?

It’s always been a push and pull between them, carefully keeping their distance but always circling back to each other. Duke would let his human swim with him, and his human would let Duke sit safely on the other side of a tide pool, tossing sea shells back and forth between each other.

They don’t even know each other’s names.

He wishes, just for a moment, that he could go back in time and do things better. But he’s happy here with his human and he doesn’t want to lose this either.

He’ll just have to make the best of what he has. It’s how he’s always lived after his parents disappeared.

“This really isn’t that bad,” his human says, “I’ve taken worse hits before. It’s just that I couldn’t transform before the attack started, so now my human form is bruised too.”

…Human form? The more Duke hears, the more questions he has.

Duke hums at a lower octave, placing a hand over his human’s chest.

His human laughs lightly. “Yeah, I guess we’ve never really talked much about ourselves, did we? I’m human, don’t worry, just not all the time. I… actually, I died a few years ago. But I came back partially. So I’m also half dead still and I can transform into a ghost to fight threats. I’m a hero called Phantom. Actually, Danny Phantom since I was stupid enough to just give out my first name when I started out. In my defense, my brain was still a little fried.”

There is so much he wants to say to that. He tries, and makes a series of low hums and clicks in the back of his throat, staring at Danny (he finally got his human’s name!) incredulously.

“I promise I’m fine,” Danny continues. “It was just a bit rough. As soon as I get some time to recover, I’ll be good as new! And I really did miss you, you know. Didn’t even go home first, just come straight here.”

That’s honestly really sweet. Duke hums again, a lighter pitch, and takes hold of Danny’s wrist and tugs him towards deeper waters.

“What? You want me to go in?”

Duke nods, already shuffling his way back out of the sand.

He expects to look awkward during the process. What he most definitely doesn’t expect is for Danny to easily pick him up and walk them both into the ocean.

Listen. Duke is not a small mer. He’s big. He’s got a long, heavy tail and wide fins going down his back, his forearms, and the sides of his tail. It’s a struggle for him to fit into seaweed nests with his friends during the colder seasons, often left to balance on the edge with his tail hanging out. His friends struggle to pull him through the water with his weight. His parents weren’t able to hold him much after he started growing.

None of this matters to Danny, who acts as if Duke weights nothing at all.

To his great embarrassment, his fins flare in appreciation for Danny’s strength. He was not expecting a human to be so strong, but Duke’s not about to lie to himself and say it’s not attractive.

He trills to Danny, who laughs again, then falls into the water, taking them both under.

Duke doesn’t hesitate. He grabs hold of Danny and swims them further out. He stays close to the surface so Danny can rise for air as needed, but he makes no move to leave Duke’s side even after a few minutes.

He glances back, concerned, when he sees that Danny is watching him with dark eyes, not breathing at all despite being conscious.

Danny holds up a finger and closes his eyes. Two rings of light appear around his waist, then split apart and pass over his body. Instantly, Danny’s body becomes lighter, as if Duke’s hand is grasping at a current on the seabed. His hair turns white and his eyes glow from how bright of a green they are, but there’s something inhuman about his features now, something that makes him look different beyond just physical features.

Well. Danny did say he could transform.

Now that they’re underwater, Duke can finally speak. The first thing he asks is, “What was that?”

Danny grins at him. “That,” he says, speaking with ease as if he’s not underwater at all, “was my transformation. And this is my ghost form. Quite the look, isn’t it?”

“You can talk down here?! Also, hi, my name’s Duke. Since I never introduced myself.”

“Ghosts can do a lot of things,” Danny answers with a cheeky grin. “It’s nice to finally know your name. I’ve been calling you glowfish in my head this whole time.”

“Glowfish?”

“Yeah. Because you, you know,” Danny gestures vaguely at him, “Glow.”

Duke glances down at his back fins, which are indeed glowing. They flare a bit from embarrassment, which just makes the dots of light lining the fins more visible. He doesn’t glow a lot, keeping a tight hold of that ability, but sometimes it comes out anyways when he’s feeling especially happy.

And apparently, he’s always very happy around Danny.

It’s a good thing Danny doesn’t know what that means, because if anyone of his friends found out, they’d laugh at how obvious he’s being. Drawbacks of being somewhat bioluminescent: anyone familiar with mers who have this feature know exactly what the glow means.

“Right,” he says just a beat too late. “Well, now that we know each other’s names, can you tell me how you really feel? Those injuries didn’t look too good.”

“It’s fine, really! I take harder hits all the time.”

“That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

Danny doesn’t answer for a long moment, then sighs. “Yeah. It still hurts.”

“Stay with me for tonight,” he says. “You’ll be safe. You can rest and heal and I’ll keep you safe from anything that comes looking for you.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

Danny doesn’t put up much of a fight. He must be exhausted. “Yeah, alright. Take me away, Duke. You know, this is like those stories about sirens luring sailors down into the depths.”

“Well, I am a siren.”

“Wait, really?”

“Yeah. I take after my mom. She’s the one who taught me how to sing.”

“I guess it’s a good thing we’re friends so I don’t have to worry about being dragged down to my watery death.”

Duke snorts. “Good thing you’re already a ghost then. Not much I can do to you down here.”

He swims down, heading towards a small cavern in a sea rock that he’s claimed as his own, leading Danny into it. The light from his fins illuminates the entrance and the rocks within, a narrow passage that goes in for a few meters before opening up into a larger space full of carefully tended to seaweed and starfish decorating the walls.

There’s a nook tucked away in the back wall where he’s set up a seaweed bed, the plant braided together into something more solid. It’s big enough to fit his tail, which means it’s big enough for him and Danny.

“Here,” he says, helping Danny down. “Get some sleep. Then you can tell me about what happened in the morning and we’ll take it from there.”

“I’m glad you’re here Duke,” Danny whispers, curling up on his side. He holds Duke’s hand, twining their fingers together, and it’s as nice as it is strange to feel how cold Danny is in this form when he was so warm as a human.

“I’ll always be here for you. You just need to come back to me.”

Danny hums, but doesn’t answer. It’s alright; Duke’s used to his loved ones leaving. He knows he can’t make them stay. All he can do is hope they return one day.

It’s been a long time since he’s had anyone in his home. There’s a communal cave where his friends stay that he visits when he gets lonely, but this place used to be for his family. Now it’s just him.

Him and Danny.

The last time there was song in these walls, his mother was still around, singing him lullabies.

Looking down at Danny, curled up and so strangely fragile looking, Duke feels the song build up in his chest. It slips out in low, soft notes, an old melody passed down through generations of their family.

He sings Danny to sleep.

He sings and sings and sings until all his nightmares are soothed and dawn is almost upon them.

It’s all he can do, so Duke sings and hopes it’s enough to keep Danny close to him for just a little longer.

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp fic #prompt fill #my writing #once again hit by the need to go crazy with worldbuilding #hitting myself w a broom while writing this like KEEP IT SHORT. KEEP IT SHORT!!#this could so easily be 20k+.....#the worldbuilding.... i have Thoughts on mer society and underwater gotham and human/mer differences and so much more #duke's parents were captured by a human (the joker) to use in a fucked up traveling aquarium #danny's still a halfa and a hero but he's not w his parents. they're good parents they just fought the gov for his sake and got arrested #so he's w vlad in a coastal city while jazz is in college #other heroes are still around on land and are not mers so villains are still up there too. and danny had to fight them hence his injuries #he actually got captured a bit and taken to some evil underground gladiator ring he had to fight his way out of mostly in ghost form but #also as a human. and the whole time he just thought abt the only friend he has in this new city which is duke. a mer he visits when he can #there is just SO much i want to write for this but i have to hold myself back....#this whole asking for prompts thing is to make myself writing shorter things... keep fics brief... not 10k+....#anyways. thanks for the prompt!!#i went straight for the hurt/comfort lol

297 notes · View notes

kelocitta · 3 months

Note

i saw your post on how you were thinking about handling the Whole Artificer Thing and i say, let em be a villain! i think it would be fun

I don't have any qualms about Artificer being cruel or whatever; I just don't think that when working them into an anthro doing a 1-to-1 transfer of their behaviors and/or making them just flat out racist/genocidal is an interesting or accurate way to characterize them. (and I just have. Negative interest in working with that type of character) People can do whatever they want but ultimately I just find the idea that anything other making them aggressively genocidal is like, woobifying them, tiring.

Artificer is obviously not good in the context of the game. But the problem and focus of their actions is the scale and spiritual aspect of it, not the actions themselves. Other slugcats are perfectly capable of killing scavengers, most players likely will and many who don't are only held back by the consequences. Scavengers are also warriors, and Artificer's whole campaign is basically set up on the fact that scavengers are defensive and very much follow a 'shoot first' method of self preservation.

So why does Artificer have always be the one thats uniquely villainous in behavior (now with significantly more moral weight behind it than they had as an animal) when the other slugcats, and even the scavengers, get properly 'civilized' when people make them anthros? I just don't think its an interesting way to utilize them, and I won't fault people who do- but like- I feel like if Artificer is going to be Like That when they can walk and talk and do taxes or whatever than at bare minimum the other slugcats and scavengers' relationship with violence/murder/hunting should be touched on.

I'm not making Artificer a good person. I don't want them to be a good person, because I think the fact they are so bad that they have problems on a spiritual level to be the interesting part. Technically, the Artificer I do for anthro stuff has already done their 'Scav King' and found their 'closure'. They set out to do something awful and did it, they got their ending. So now theyre just old and tired and mean and miserable because getting what you want isnt a solution.

#long post #ask #rw anthro #i want her to get worse but not in a 'i kill scavengers because im fucked up and evil' kinda way #i want her to get worse because theres something wrong with her shes not gonna address until it rots her from the inside out #even in this sense her early relationship with hunter is more #founded in her views of life being just generally bad and connecting w/ hunters illness in that way #as for hunter their connection starts out as mostly being in a rocky place due to their developing symptoms and liking that #artificer lets them ignore the feelings being suddenly ill causes #its not the best relationship lol #but its also messy and rough since i cant write for shit

180 notes · View notes

stardustdiiving · 6 months

Text

The way some people talk about “misogynistic writing” with the female genshin archons—specifically Nahida & Furina— kills me a bit, because while i do feel there’s valid criticisms of genshin’s writing to be made (especially regarding Ei, who I do feel was done a massive disservice writing wise), often I see people seem to come from a place of not understanding the writing/characters well, and/or leaning into like…very reductive ideas of what makes a female character “good” that honestly says more about their biases than Genshin’s

For example, a common complaint I see against Nahida & Furina is about them being made to be “weak/unserious” and how this is bad writing because genshin is unwilling to take their characters seriously—but the way this is argued seems to suggest Furina & Nahida would be better characters if they were more physically powerful, mature, or “cooler” in some way. But I really dislike the notion of girlbossification being seen as the one standard of good writing for women. A girl being strong and independent and able to punch things really hard isn’t a marker of inherent good writing

Nahida and Furina not being physically powerful or completely sure of themselves is the point. Their lack of life-experience-based maturity and overpowering physical strength are intentional and points of strength for their character writing, not flaws or weaknesses:

Nahida is the God of Wisdom—her primary source of strength is her intelligence, which comes from her curiosity about the world that is intrinsically linked to her being very caring by nature. The reason Nahida is at a disadvantage in physical strength with the antagonists—Scaramouche and Dottore—and doesn’t have an epic moment where she brute force overpowers them, isn’t because Genshin is treating Nahida like an incompetent joke, it’s because her character highlights the overall theme in Sumeru’s AQ that power isn’t everything and strength/wisdom comes from many places.

She outsmarts both Scaramouche and Dottore through her ability to strategize—if you’re trying to sell Nahida as a character who embodies wisdom, it’s far stronger writing wise to have her use her wisdom and mind to overcome narrative conflict than have her be all powerful. If you don’t think Nahida revealing she’s trapped Scaramouche in a dream loop after he tries to rip her gnosis from her, or her standing her ground against Dottore and forcing him to bargain with her when he attempts to intimidate her into giving him what he wants doesn’t make her “cool” or interesting….idk ! Maybe it’s not the writing and just your personal preference for character appeal

Furina —without getting too deep into 4.2 spoilers—has an arc revolving around the loneliness & conflict of needing to mold yourself into a performance for a greater purpose, and grappling with personal identity and autonomy in the aftermath of performance and repression shaping your life. I really don’t understand how people watch how she’s handled and come away with the conclusion her character gets bent around Nuevillette’s man pain/the fact he’s just so ~much more competent than her unless you’re just really not interested in trying to engage Furina’s writing or taking it in confusingly bad faith

Her struggling with lacking the physical power/competence a god “should” have is, again, the point of her character and they are very clear where that lack of ability comes from within the writing. Her narrative actions follow an arc that revolves around this internal conflict she has—she feels very established to be her own person and they certainty don’t shy away from expanding on Furina’s emotions without it only being done as footing for other (male) characters

I think Nahida & Furina were just not what people were expecting the Dendro & Hydro Archon to be like, I also see a lot of complaints that neither of them “act like gods” or “seem very godlike” but see, in my opinion, one of the central themes to genshin overall is to examine the relationship between humanity and the divine. Part of this also includes calling into question what a god should be, especially in relation to humans/having a sense of humanity

The center conflict within Nahida & Furina’s characters is that their sense of humanity is at odds with being held to what being a god “should” be. Nahida is imprisoned by the Sages who treat her with disdain for being a child and not being inhumanly perfect enough to be useful to them as a deity. We see Furina try to engage with her people earnestly in a more human way before realizing she needs to put up the performance that proceeds to shape her life & state of deep loneliness for the next 500 years to be taken seriously and fulfill her duties. You aren’t supposed to look at Nahida or Furina and think they’re all powerful otherworldly divine beings. You’re supposed to view the, as people—people who are young and inexperienced regarding their position in life. Venti and Zhongli act like people in the same way—the only difference is they have more experience and have had the time to accomplish more feats as original members as the Seven

Again, it’s not that I don’t think there’s criticisms to be made. Genshin to me sets up Ei to be a character who requires a lot of self reflection/growth and thought with handling her moral dubiousness, and then out of desperately worrying she won’t be likable enough, seems to bend over with trying to insist on Ei being palpably appealing while not following through on a lot of what her character really needs to feel well handled. (I feel they barely even address Ei needing to rebuild trust with her people and it’s only more clear when you now see Furina spend a lot of time handling something similar despite doing less um, government oppression thsn Ei did for instance HDJNDJDJ. But I guess me pinning where my personal dissatisfaction with her writing comes from is another post in of its own and more based in general issues with Inazuma vs viewing it as misogynistic writing alone) The trend of not letting a female character grapple with her morality and try to push her being livable at the expense of addressing her complexity does honestly feel it falls into a misogynistic writing trends. I am really bummed out with Ei’s execution when genshin has proven through other characters along with Nahida and Furina they are capable of handling a character like her writing wise imo

But I really think, again, if someone thinks none of genshin’s women are engaging or interesting, or that Nahida and Furina aren’t taken seriously enough narratively while seeming to not really understand the intent of the characters’ writing, or want to take them seriously unless they’re cool/girlboss-y enough, I feel it may say more about their ideas of handling women in fiction than it does about genshin. I get personal preferences and not being really into a character, but people so frequently frame it as a possibly misogyny pattern with how genshin writes the female archons and I can’t help but disagree. I think sometimes people don’t consider what the story is trying to say with the characters vs what they think is cool or want (and of course what we all think is cool or may want/expect narratively is always informed by our own biases). There’s a level of subjectivity in how you can interpret writing and narratives of course but they’re just not interpretations I feel fit into what’s presented in the text !

#fern.txt #nahida #furina #Genshin #archons #THEY DONT GET MY GIRLS GUYS #fandomferns #slight 4.2 spoilers for thr furina bits #I keep it mostly vague tho #smh it’s not like I see genshins writing as the holy grail but sometimes I think it’s solid #I enjoy nahida and furina a lot and feel people just don’t get it a lot #and yeah some of the ways ppl don’t get it…does feel kind of like. damn. misogyny.png #which especially kills me a bit when it’s funneled through a lens of insisting their issues w the chars r bc of sexist writing

218 notes · View notes

skitskatdacat63 · 5 months

Text

2010 Bahrain Grand Prix - Fernando Alonso

#aaaaaahhhh what a good podium!! he looks so good bark bark bark #i love how theres like 2 immensely iconic pictures from this gp #its still so cool that he won his first race with ferrari!!#tho its a shame bcs its mostly due to seb's technical issues :(#not saying i dont think fernando shouldve won but rather that i was excited for a potential vettonso podium sigh #i already made a post w my thoughts abt it ^ but man i rly loved how 3/4 of this race was vettonso playing cat and mouse #and all the discussion post finish were abt comparing thier performances #twas a very exciting moment for me as you prob know ;;;; so its a shame that after all that they didnt end up on the podium together #OH MY SPEAKING OF THAT. it was so hilarious bcs they cut from nando celebrating in the car to seb's car on the side of the road SOBBBBBB #ah at least we got a little webbonso moment. that moment in my race notes literally says 'webbonso???' cause mark came from nowhere #anyways that gif where hes spraying champagne(rose water ig) at the camera makes me FERALLLLL AAKUHDKJAK #ngl even tho its not champagne it sounded pretty tasty. sparkling water/rose water/pomegranate juice i think?#f1 #formula 1 #fernando alonso #we do a little bit of f1 #fa14 #2010 bahrain gp #<- feels rly cool to write 2010 finally

162 notes · View notes

sapphic-agent · 20 days

Text

"If I was surprised at anything, it may have been that it seemed like people were less willing to let her make mistakes than they were with Aang."

I hate Bryke's guts, but the one thing I will agree with him (Bryan) on is this.

I've gotten heat from Aang stans for saying this, but for me Korra will always be a better written character for me. Not because Aang's childish and optimistic and naive or anything like that. That doesn't matter to me. Hell, it's not even for his actions during DOBS or EIP or Kataang. Sure, those things aren't great, but they aren't the issue with his character.

It's not about Aang's actions, it's about how Aang's actions are treated by the narrative.

This is nothing new obviously, I've said this before. Many times. Aang kissing Katara in EIP is treated as him messing up his chances with her, not because he forced something on her she didn't want. The kiss in DOBS doesn't even come up again in the show (and when it did in the comics, Aang blew up and nearly melted her face off so-). I've spoken enough about his holier-than-thou attitude in TSR too and how his message of forgiveness is perpetuated as the right one.

It's one thing that is 100% better in LOK; Korra is held accountable for her actions, by the narrative, the other characters, and herself. A big part of LOK is Korra acknowledging her actions and making the effort to change and be better.

A great counter to Aang repeatedly crossing boundaries with Katara is in Reunion when she warns Asami about trusting Hiroshi and Asami calls her out on giving unsolicited advice. Korra immediately backs off and tries to apologize when she sees that she upset her.

Now compare this to Aang's behavior in TSR or EIP.

And before anyone says it, I know Korra's older. I also know Asami reconnecting with her father is different than Katara wanting to kill Yon Rha. I get all of that.

But honestly? That doesn't matter to me. Because when you're talking about fictional characters- especially character progression and development for the protagonist- addressing flaws is important. Accountability is important. Especially when it comes to how they treat the people around them (love interests like Asami and Korra probably being the most important).

This is what solidifies Korra's character development as being better than Aang's for me.

However, I do think it's because of this framing (and the fact that she's a woman, but shh) that Korra gets more hate. Her flaws being addressed also means that they're constantly apparent. The audience is always aware of them. Whereas Aang's worse actions tended to be brushed over or excused. Or the context of those mistakes were maneuvered to make the audience feel bad for him instead of the one affected by his actions (EIP EIP EIP EIP).

So yes, Bryan, people were more willing to let Aang make mistakes because you and your bestie failed to actually address them

80 notes · View notes

claudemblems · 11 months

Text

Zzz | Dan Heng

Summary: Your nap with Dan Heng is cut short by the realization that it's dinner time, but you have no intentions of giving up your place in his arms.

Notes: I'm writing for Star Rail now 🤭 Can you tell who my favorite character is lol

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“[Name], it’s time to get up. The others are expecting us.”

Who cares? you thought to yourself, not daring to move a muscle lest you should let your boyfriend know that you were, indeed, very much awake. He would have chided you for your remark despite inwardly agreeing with you. Someone has to be the practical one in this relationship, he’d told you once, but becoming your boyfriend had to be the least practical of decisions he’d made in recent years. With your insatiable curiosity and heroic soul, you always ran yourself head first into the unknown without a single thought of what danger could lie ahead. But you were a magnetic force that even Dan Heng could not repel, and like a moth to a flame, he found himself drawn to you–every part of you–and if that meant setting himself ablaze, then so be it.

Dan Heng being so hopelessly in love with you meant that you could get away with a few more minutes of “sleep”, right…?

Not quite.

“[Name].” He gently shook your shoulders, sighing to himself when you showed no signs of waking. “March is going to give me another one of her punctuality lectures if we don’t get to dinner on time, which is ironic coming from her, but still.”

You nearly let out a laugh before catching yourself, quickly disguising it as a disgruntled snore. March 7th already annoyed Dan Heng enough as it was, but nothing unnerved him quite like when she chastised him as if she were his big sister. The disdain on Dan Heng’s face could be seen plain as day to everyone around, but, much to his dismay, his friends found themselves entertained by his so-called misery. But he was used to the antics of his fellow passengers by now…mostly.

Still, he would have liked to avoid a lengthy scolding from March if possible.

“[Name]...”

After a few moments of silence, Dan Heng breathed out a sigh of defeat. Not one to go to dinner alone (not since you entered into the picture), he decided to join you in catching up on some sleep. He situated the pillows of his makeshift bed into a more comfortable position before laying down beside you, and carefully, as to not wake you, he wrapped his arms around your back, pressing you close to his chest. You were glad that he couldn’t see the obvious flush to your cheeks—not only to spare you your own embarrassment, but also because your cover would have been blown. Sleeping people don't blush at their lovers' touch, after all. You already Dan Heng right where you wanted him, and you weren’t about to let anything come between you and your bliss.

That was, until a hot breath fanned against your neck and you jumped.

“I knew you were awake.”

“Dan Heng,” you hissed, instinctively hiding your face in your hands. “I just wanted some more alone time with you. Are you really going to get mad at me for that?”

“I’d never be angry with you,” he assured, using his elemental powers to ruffle your hair, something he only did when he was feeling particularly affectionate. “Maybe a little annoyed, but you can make it up to me by being on the receiving end of March’s lecture this time.”

“All right, fine,” you sighed dramatically, but you couldn’t hold back the smile forming on your face. “Looks like I win again.”

“And what did you win, exactly?”

“Your attention. I’m keeping track of how many times you choose to give into my impulsivity over your practicality. So far, I'm on a winning streak.”

“You really are as unpredictable as that stellaron you have.”

“And like a star, my gravitational pull is too strong for you to resist.”

“How cheesy.”

“You just wish you had a stellaron that made people so captivated by your presence.”

Dan Heng smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to your hair. “Stellaron or not, my heart would still find its way back home to yours every time, My Starlight.”

“Dan Heng—! You can’t just get all mushy like that all of a sudden, I…”

“Flustered?” he asked, and just by the tone of his voice, you knew he was grinning.

“I’m telling March that our absence at dinner is your fault after all.”

#w-when dan heng honkai star rail 😳#also im still new to the game so #hopefully what im writing aligns with canon (mostly) lol #hsr #hsr x reader #dan heng #dan heng x reader #honkai star rail

325 notes · View notes

ribbononline · 2 years

Text

Three idols on an island the show

#deep cut #shiver splatoon #frye splatoon #big man #splatoon 3 #idk. tags #sorry that this is the post i revive w guys #ive been drawing mons in the bg they r still in my heart. i just dont have anything im happy enough w to post #mostly just been writing up large hc walls w friend but thats not super interesting to post ksjhdfjksd #oh also i KNOW big man is a manta ray not a stingray but its just for the expression. its a ref to the special

1K notes · View notes

kentopedia · 2 months

Text

truthfully i want to back away from jjk but i don’t know how

#bc i still love nanami & want to write about him but #i don’t feel like i’m a part of the fandom anymore #& im okay w it i just want to have my own space on here #it’s just all i see allll the time and i’m kind of tired of it :( bc i don’t care anymore #i don’t get excited about it like i do bsd either :(#i also don’t just want to be known as a jjk blog which i feel like … i kind of am now maybe :/#but like it’s ALLL people post about & i have a lot of jjk moots which i love so i’m not going to block anyone 😭😭 but i also wish i could #just like …. distance myself easier lol #it’s mostly the fandom too like idk i don’t like it #anyway sorry for the rant but if you’re wondering why i’m posting all abt bsd again all of the sudden this is why #i just realized it makes me a lot happier !! :3 to be more a part of that side of tumblr

69 notes · View notes

yarnacle · 3 months

Text

its too late at night im having too many gay thoughts about these idiots so. here we are i guess.

It's Ian. No one else is going to fucking caress him. For all the informality of the company's content and general atmosphere, with this video concept especially, he's still their boss. And no one is going to want to, or have the guts to just fucking stroke his face like that. Even as he laughs and asks 'What is this?' he knows what's happening, knows who those hands belong to.

Two fingers drag down the right side of his face, and he feels the chalk that's left behind. It's going to stay for the rest of the video, and there's something to be said about that, he thinks. Something symbolic, something romantic, or even something funny, the last thought being slapped into his head when Ian's hand collides with his face.

It doesn't hurt that much, and immediately after he cracks a joke.

"This person thinks they're hilarious."

And they are, he wants to add. They're ridiculously funny, with a dark, somewhat skewed sense of humour to match his own, and they're brilliant and kind and so many other things, but right now they're making it easy for him.

"Who would caress my face and slap me outta nowhere?"

He, and everyone else in the room, and everyone who's going to watch the video, knows.

"Feels like an Ian move to me- Did you just boop me?"

Ian's locking it in, making sure that it's clear that, yeah, in case you couldn't figure it out already, it's me motherfucker.

"That's the only one you truly needed to get right."

Anthony laughs. He's not wrong - It wouldn't matter if he got everyone else dead wrong [even Angela, after hearing her speak and feeling her entire cast]. So long as he got Ian right, then it would be fine. There's probably also something to be said about how sweet that would be, but after having all the fucking braincells knocked out of his skull from the second person, he's not very poetic.

All that matters is that he guessed Ian correctly, and can still feel the two stripes of chalk on his cheek. [All that matters is that now there's a phantom warmth ghosting across his face, a replication of the gentle, almost loving strokes a distraction from the slight sting from everyone else's hands.]

#i actually have no idea if this makes sense and if its coherent. im too tired to reread it so. here we are! 1st rpf w/ fully stolen dialogue #smosh #anthony padilla #ian hecox #ianthony #implied??? idk they implied it p heavily enough themselves w/ that fuckin 'my boyfriend' title so idk anymore lolsies #fanfiction #smosh fanfiction #rpf #very veyr reluctantly #my writing #i can do better i promise [mostly lying almost all my writing is done unedited and at ungodly hours]#sighs. if any of my irls or ppl from my main blog find this its over for me the bullying will never cease.#thanks for listening to my tags ramble ill be going to bed now im too mentally ill to also be physically ill

76 notes · View notes

alister312 · 5 months

Text

fuck it, posting that one doodle i made for that ask from a few days back that i didn’t realize already had a stellar image in the ask

#this is not my Big Gregstophe Proposal Headcanon™️ but it’s something i could still totally see happening lmao #south park #gregstophe #christophe delorne #gregory of yardale #also MAN I haven’t drawn them in forever…… mostly sketching various fankids these days haha #also been writing a lot of fankid stuff recently. specifically my tophlovski/gregstophe/style divorce au w dani #someday I’ll have more time/energy outside of obligation writing to go back to wmcg…… someday 🥺#anyway this has been snippets of life updates in the tags w alister hope whoever’s reading has a good day 🥰

82 notes · View notes

autistic-katara · 11 months

Text

are u even queer if u havent pounced on an opportunity to get beat up by ur crush?

255 notes · View notes

sherbetlemonss · 6 months

Text

Idk what to caption this but heres Funky Gyro Art !

Alt lightings n stuff ->

#ducktales #ducktales 2017 #dt17 #ducktales art #ducktales fanart #ducktales gyro #gyro gearloose #my art #art #digital art #Bro should not be inhaling whatever that is #ignore the nonsensical science notes #they r mostly there for decoration #he is writing w chalk

76 notes · View notes

possibilistfanfiction · 8 months

Note

nightmare for the one word prompts

[a little sad but mostly very silly, butch bea universe]

'i really don't have to go today,' beatrice says, kissing your forehead before settling down next to you on the couch. you know she means it: beatrice means everything she says, first of all, and you have grown — despite your brain's best efforts to steer you otherwise — to trust her when she offers care. you take her in: her fresh haircut that she gets done every month now, usually neatly parted on the top, messy from sleep; her tender wrists; the soft skin of her thighs; the soft sweater you bought her last christmas, sleeves pulled down over her hands, which are always cold.

you sigh. you had had nightmares — more than one, which is rare this many years later, after the worst of it — and woken up with scars that you don't think about too often, or at least with too much pain or sorrow anymore, aching all over your body. your legs had been pins and needles — worse, you've discovered, than feeling nothing some days — and your spine had ached, the halo feeling your sorrow, sharing in it. beatrice had skipped her typical surf session this morning, partially because she'd woken up with you both times last night, and partially because she's worried. she doesn't try to hide it anymore, her concern written all over her gentle face, in her sweet eyes, her soft hands. you find it nestled along all the small things she did for you in the past two hours: bringing you pain meds along with an easy breakfast of scrambled eggs and your favorite rosemary sourdough toast, doing a few snuffles with korra's morning unkibble so she's calm and ready to work today for whatever you need, helping you, after your glum nod, transfer from bed to your chair. you twist the wedding band around on your finger, focus on the few freckles that sit on the tops of her hands because of her time in the sun. your life is real, you remind yourself. your time on the other side, every endless day you spent in hell, was worth it for this, for beatrice quietly and patiently sitting next to you, soft and always becoming more herself; for your family visiting at the end of the week, camila begging to go to universal studios, lilith grumbling but giving in; for the respect people owe you now, and ready give; for your dog and your bar and the edibles you share with beatrice some nights, easy with laughter, and the farofa you feel confident in making for dinner when your friends come over, a warm offering.

'no,' you decide on, firmly, and you know beatrice will trust you. 'we should go. it'll be fun.'

'it will be fun,' she says, the same gleam in her eye you remember from years ago when she was ready to "maim or kill" (lilith's words) anyone who was in the way of her and the mission, especially once you became involved.

'you remember this is, like, your weekly tennis match for fun, right?'

'of course, ava.'

the way she cracks her knuckles tells you that the for fun is lost on her for the most part. it's endlessly amusing to you, though, and quite harmless — although maybe not to her opponent's pride — so you don't bother to argue any further. 'okay, well, i think angela and ruth wanted to have lunch anyway today after their jazzercise class, so we can watch you play.'

'no catcalling.'

you pout. 'you're my wife.'

'not from you, not from ruth or angela.'

'they're old, bea. let them have some fun.'

'at my expense? no thank you. i need to focus while i compete.'

she's already sitting up straighter, eyes lively. she's playing david today, you think, if you remember the club's "adult intermediate to advanced tennis league" rotation correctly. he's a decent player, and their head to head record is relatively even. he's also a bit of an asshole, and a venture capitalist, so it stands to reason beatrice despises him.

'fine.' you squeeze her hand. 'but can you change your shirt between sets?'

'ava.'

'gratuitously towel off or something at least.'

'ava.'

'whatever,' you say. 'i'm wearing a bikini. at least ruth and angela will appreciate it.'

'oh, i'll appreciate it,' she says, and then laughs softly and leans over to kiss you.

everything about beatrice, you decided years ago, is endearing. can she kill a man in, like, one second using just her hand? yes, sure, but you've seen her very skillfully practice her forms every morning for years, barring injury, and frown when anything is off, even by a breath. most people find her precision in all things kind of terrifying, but you've learned that some of it is a trauma response — from her childhood, from being a soldier, from losing you — and some of it is really just how she is. her books sorted exactly how she wants them — by genre, subgenre, and then author's last name — on the bookshelf; the meticulously labeled spices in your pantry, always in both their language of origin and english; her surfboards waxed perfectly and neatly stored in the small shed in your yard. everything about her precision is endearing because you understand her and you love her, and maybe the most endearing, or at least you think some days, is the way she treats rec league club tennis.

no matter how many times you've jokingly reminded her that your club isn't wimbeldon, she likes to wear all white little outfits; men's shorts and, your favorite, a neat polo. in the summer, she favors tanks, which you are not complaining about. she has three racquets and a very impressive bag like all the pros carry onto the court, special towels, pristine sneakers, and, when you're most amused, a wristband she very sincerely wipes her sweaty forehead on. since you'd met she'd loved watching tennis, and she'd taught you — as patiently as she has always taught you anything — the rules, her favorite players (not that it was, like, hard to think serena williams was the best athlete ever), common terms to know. you'd gone out with her a few times to the courts and she'd shown you proper form; you'd found out, eventually from her, that her dream as a little kid was to be a tennis pro, which was so charming and a little unexpected. you had thought she would've wanted to be some kind of scientist, maybe a really good lawyer, but her brother had dug out some pictures of little beatrice in her tennis getup, her expression so, so serious for a nine year old, and you'd fallen in love all over again.

she listens to her "pump-up music" — a lot of pop, surprisingly — as she drives you both to the club, focused already in her tennis outfit, complete with a quarterzip warmup top and everything. you're endlessly amused by her, in a way that most people are too intimidated to be, and you think it's good for her, to feel human, to not be taken so seriously when she should get to just enjoy things. your pain meds are helping by the time you get to the club, the pins and needles down your legs leveling out, the halo shaking off some of its deep sorrow, the memories of torture and abject aloneness that sometimes show up in your dreams. today is bright and sunny, the bluest sky, and your friends wave to you once you get out to the tables near the tennis courts. beatrice says a quick hello and then bustles off to start her very precise warm up routine, and you all wait until she's out of earshot to share a fond laugh.

'david today?'

'i swear she was rewatching coco and iga's last match yesterday to prepare.'

ruth pats your hand and angela orders a charcuterie for the table, gets prosecco for ruth and herself and — they both know you well enough by now that your chair usually means you've had to take medication, which you don't mix with alcohol — a cranberry soda for you, your favorite.

david shows up a few minutes later as you're gossiping, angela gasping at ruth's latest escapades with her new boyfriend while you laugh delightedly. he's the kind of muscular dude that likes to run along the beach shirtless because he thinks it's impressive but really it just looks ridiculous, the kind of dude that would give unwanted pointers in the gym. you don't have a disdain for him like beatrice does, because he's never done anything abhorrent to you personally, but when you see her steely gaze as he goes to his bench on the court, you get it. and, also, it's hot, so, like, you shoot a quick thanks to david and his douchey backwards cap for that.

things go just about as you'd expected: beatrice plays with the amount of passion you'd see in a wimbeldon final, and angela and ruth relentlessly whistle and cheer and boo. the charcuterie has a new truffle havarti you're all in love with, and the bottle of prosecco gets split happily while you watch. it's a fairly even match — david hits harder than beatrice but is slower and definitely stupider — and she wins the first set 6 games to 4. she gets mad at him for serving too slowly, and they briefly have an argument over whether or not one of his backhands was in. it's all deeply ridiculous for an afternoon at in an amateur club league, but beatrice and her overhand serves get you every single time.

she's down a break in the second set when she hits a drop shot that has david falling over his own feet, and you know it's over then. the second bea realizes someone is truly out of sorts, in any scenario, she's already won.

they shake hands after the match is over, beatrice taking the second set much quicker than the first, and then she makes her way over to your table and sits, very satisfied, in the chair next to you, a towel around her neck.

'my champion,' you say, and she rolls her eyes, accepting the congratulatory beer angela had already ordered for her as the last game was winding down with a thankful nod.

'great match, beatrice,' ruth says, half-sincere, half-teasing, but beatrice smiles anyway. sometimes, things are not good; sometimes, on the worst days, even now, even still, even with all this love, you still remember what it was like to suffer alone — without feeling, with too much feeling — for so much of your life. but beatrice slips into her quarterzip next to you and you smell sweat and laundry detergent and the pomade she puts in her hair, you feel the sun warming along your back and you hear the small group of children starting their lesson, laughing brightly. beatrice holds your hand and you'll nap later; you'll order takeout from your favorite thai place and watch the sunset on your patio; you'll fall asleep in her arms. you'll wake up and do it all over again — the loneliness, the pain, the longing — just for this.

#wn #wn fic #avatrice #avatrice fic #butch bea 🥺🫡#this is mostly bc a) i’ve been meaning to write this for like six months lmao it’s so funny #b) i’ve been watching the us open go coco obviously #c) whew ava deserves a silly happy life!!!! thinking abt him always #also d) bea when faced w normal competitive scenarios would be so insane #just absolutely batshit crazy i love her

145 notes · View notes