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downbadmostofthetime · 1 month

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Please go in depth on how you think wanderer isn't much of a red flag as he is now! I agree with you for sure, but I love hearing people's takes on him! Personally, I think scaramouche would definitely be a huge red flag, but I think as he is now, he'd definitely be really loving and caring towards his s/o

OF COURSE I CAN DO THAT!!!!

Scaramouche himself is definitely a very big red flag. From his ties with the fatui, murderous/abusive (to his subordinates) behaviour and as well as his rude manner of speech. He definitely isn’t the most pleasant person you’d want to date.

but Wanderer on the other hand is completely different. And because of this he is a much bigger green flag than Scaramouche and im genuinely so sick of people grouping them in together when he even said himself in game that he doesn’t want to be anymore.

So im gonna go over his green flags (more under the cut!)

1. Animals like him – He likes animals.

Wanderer is actually portrayed with animals in a lot of his official art (or aranaras), specifically birds and cats

His 2023 and 2024 birthday arts are literally just him chilling with animals. In 2023 he’s chilling with a bird and in 2024 he’s with a bunch of cats.

It’s not like he hates it either. sure it may seem like he does sometimes but he really doesn’t

-In his character demo he may have swatted the bird away when it came back at the end, but at the beginning he was completely fine with having it on him as he was walking. He probably only swatted it away because it was flying in his face when he was already annoyed with having to fight those fatui.

These two images are just him chilling with birds. The second one he even lets on his hand and HES SMILING he literally loves animals like they’re bffs in that picture ITS SO CUTE 😭😭

You can’t even argue that he’s only soft towards animals when he’s alone because of the scenario in his 2024 birthday art where the traveler meets him in the tree when he’s cuddling with the cats. It’s not like he’s even embarrassed or annoyed about them being there he’s just chilling with them!!!!! Sure he did tell the tabby cat off for playing with his vision BUT HE CALLED THEM FLUFFBALLS BEFOREHAND!!!! THATS A WORD THAT WOULDVE NEVER COME OUT OF SCARAMOUCHE’S MOUTH EVER!!!!! AND HE EVEN PROMISED TO PLAY WITH THE CATS LATER!!!!!! The white and grey cat also just lounging on his leg knocked out completely defenceless is also a sign. cats are usually very alert when they try and sleep unless they’re CERTAIN that they’re safe. and look me in my eyes and try to tell me that that cat isn’t feeling 100% safe sleeping on his leg.

This isn’t even his only appearance with cats minus him being portrayed as a cat. he has a chibi birthday art from 2023 that’s just him and a cat hanging out with a birthday present

The second piece of dialogue might make him look mad but the art literally proves it otherwise he’s just confused LMAO there is not a single angry wrinkle on his face nope NOTHING!!!!

2. His development with the Traveler

Wanderer’s attitude stayed around the same since he regained him memories, but it isn’t as bad as when he was Scaramouche. It’s very evident from how he talks to the Traveler before going to Irminsul and while they’re there for some time and then how he talks after regaining his memories. It’s much softer and he isn’t biting as much. Hell, he even asks the Traveler to give him a new name when he could’ve asked Nahida to or waited awhile before asking.

In his voicelines he’s still the same. Though the birthday one is something I’d like to focus on the most.

“Give me your hand. Heh, there's no need to be nervous. I'm just taking you to a vantage point.”

“How is it? The scenery here should be quite breathtaking. There's no need to thank me — I see little point in it.”

Wanderer went out of his way to do that for the Traveler on their birthday. He could’ve just barked that he doesn’t need to do anything for their birthday or that he doesn’t care or that they’re still enemies so he doesn’t need to celebrate it but he still does something nice for the Traveler regardless!!!Him initiating physical contact just to take them to a vantage point and reassuring the Traveler because they’re nervous is something he CHOOSES to do.

Now, I’ve always thought that he was flying the Traveler to the vantage point, but now that im rereading the line it literally doesn’t even mention him flying so LMAO

BUT ITS STILL SWEET IN BOTH WAYS

-He’s going out of his way to FLY the Traveler to the vantage point. And if he’d have to fly them there then obviously there’d be more physical contact than hand holding. That means he’s completely fine with having the Traveler in his personal space like that, so obviously he trusts them a lot more now to a certain degree!!!

-If he’s not flying to the vantage point, he’s still initiating physical contact with the Traveler even though he doesn’t have to.

LIKE OMG?????

In his birthday art scenarios, he’s completely fine with the Traveler hanging out with him. HE EVEN ASKS THEM TO STAY WITH HIM FOR A WHILE IN THE 2023 ONE IF THEY DONT MIND!!!!!

I feel like the 2023 one does a good job with explaining him and the Travelers enemies to friends (to lovers— GUNSHOTS) pipeline. He calls them meeting on his birthday a coincidence and gets ready to leave, but he’s completely fine with the Traveler not wanting to leave!!!! And when he asks them to stick around with him that’s clearly showing what he wanted the WHOLE GODDAMN TIME!!!!!!!

The 2024 chibi art scenario one is just them enjoying each other’s company. His regular birthday art for this year is kind of the same too. It shows how now neither of them dislike the other’s company, they’re fine with each other and they dont complain about it, no nothing!!!!!!

His Teapot lines are (OBVIOUSLY) the best examples of how he is when he fully trusts someone though.

Here’s a list of the things he does that are a complete 180 to how many people expected him to be:

-He apologises more often

-Criticises himself for criticising the empty spots in your teapot

-Perfectly fine with chatting whenever

-Despite saying to the Traveler that they should start the conversation because he has nothing fun or positive to share, he still dominates the conversation by talking about his tea preferences and how he came to like drinking tea in the first place

-Perfectly fine with sharing a meal with the Traveler that they prepared just for him

His goodnight line is really sweet too. Thanking the Traveler for looking out for him and telling them to go get rest. Like that’s so sweet 😭😭😭😭

I really do hope that he gets more plot relevancy in an event or in another archon quest because I really want to see more of his relationship with the Traveler now. They’re just so UGHHHHHH 😭😭😭😭😭😭

3. His behaviour towards other people

It’s not even just the Traveler that he’s nice to. He’s nice to other characters too!!!!

In A Parade of Providence he’s shown being nice to Layla and Tighnari

-He helps Layla by offering her advice when he overhears about her anxiety to participate in the swiftflies

-Gives the Traveler a water-skin to give to Tighnari because he fainted in the desert. Despite providing snarky comments about how fragile humans are to extreme environments he still goes out of his way to help Tighnari when he could��ve ignored what was going on to win.

I really hope we get some more interactions with Wanderer and the Sumeru cast because wtf!!!!! Why not!!!!!

In his 2024 birthday letter he mentions that his classmates surprised him for his birthday with a cake. And instead of being mostly annoyed about how they disturbed his peace and quiet, he’s more concerned about why they would even want to celebrate his birthday in the first place which is actually sad 💔

Wanderer doesn’t even seem to hate participating in events and things with other people either. In his 2023 birthday letter he mentions that he was dragged into a cooking interest group by a couple of students, and despite the fact that he could’ve just left or told them he didn’t want to participate or scared them off, he still participated in cooking with them.

As well as learning from an old merchant how to sew and stitch to recreate the tiny doll the boy from his past had made him. It specifically mentions that he went to visit Treasures Street to learn how to make toys, so this wasn’t just some run in he had, he CHOSE to learn how to make a doll so he could recreate that one. He even takes it with him while he travels and it notes how it feels like a travel companion to him 😭😭 AND THE ENDING PART OF THE TINY DOLL STORY

“"From today, you shall wander together with me."”

“He said softly, placing it in his pocket.”

LIKE THATS SO SWEET 😭😭😭😭

SO!!!! How would all of this impact him having a romantic relationship??

If you manage to become friends with him, it’s definitely going to take awhile to break down his walls. But in that time he’s definitely going to be snarky, but not outright rude to you. He’ll probably just get more annoyed if anything about being bothered a bit more frequent than he’d like, though he’d probably never say that towards you.

As you break down those walls though, he’s definitely going to soften overtime and he won’t mind your company. At some point he’ll probably be actively seeking it out.

And when you get together with him. He’s definitely gonna be loving and caring towards you!!!! Honestly I think his love languages are Physical Touch and Quality Time so he’s definitely going to seek those out from you, preferably mushing the two together.

Overall, in the beginning he’s probably going to be more tsundere-ish (ew… im never using that term again after this…) towards you but eventually with enough dedication from you he’ll break down his walls and let you in and show you his softer side.

And that’s why I think that Wanderer is more of a green flag than a red flag

Thank you for coming to my ted talk it’s 2am and I have therapy in the morning so uh whoops!!!!

If anyone wants to add anything please feel free too!!! It’s always nice hearing what other people have to say (as long as ur not rude about it)

#scaramouche #wanderer #genshin #genshin impact #genshin scaramouche #genshin wanderer #sorry if it seems choppy I did this on a whim #also I have learnt my lesson to not write everything exclusively on tumblr and then go back to look at other things because I accidentally—#deleted my progress for some of this because it didn’t save when I went to go find the images 😭😭😭😭#wanderer I love you

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dilfhos · 7 months

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sooo this is gonna be a messy rant on the observations ive made between different writer communities, blog interactions and overall “status”. just silly little things I’ve noticed in my 4+ years being on tumblr btwn 2 diff blogs. and this is about no one specific, a very generalized post so if you find urself offended i honestly dont know what to tell you?? :o do better ig. & if you relate, i feel for you. TLDR @/end.

i dont like interacting/ building connections with people but not for the reasons ppl think. im not stuck up or pretentious or weird or anything. just another anime-enjoyer who loves to write in her free time. nobody special by a longshot!! i enjoy writing, always have since before i was a teen. (wasn’t always ff tho!).

but over the years ive just noticed fandom writing has its gritty sides that no one talks about often and its no mystery why so many prolific/ popular writers deactivated, me included. i had some shitty experiences and have seen friends go bc of it.

firstly, I’ve noticed, once you start interacting and building friendships with people, it’s easier to see the bigger perspective of where ppl stand and the blatant hierarchy of friendships and groups. same applies to that outside. like its literally just me n’ my bsf then my acquaintances bc mfs be weirddd omg its like cults or something. like thats why initially I didn’t interact w/anyone starting on my new blog. that n’ fear of drama following from my last blog ugh. ‘Cept the few i’ve met on my old blog (like my wifey)

not to mention i have bad anxiety. and sometimes im cue-deaf. i dont always pick up what people put down and vice versa and it makes me conscious in a lot of my interactions. so a part of me doesn’t want to interact at all to avoid all awkwardness and possible miscommunications. that’s not to say i don’t notice subtle changes in interactions after one situation / conversation or so forth, that in myself or witnessed between other ppl. (im perceptive, just not that good conversationalist lol. like i really have to try.)

but then…if you don’t interact with people on here, your chances of building an audience or a reader base is slim to none. the likelihood of developing relationships is zip. because you’re already perceived and pegged as just another tumblr writer. pause. to clarify, a writer who doesn’t want any recognition or interactions from mutuals or new friends. or just a lonely writer? a introverted, lonely writer. which leads to little to none interactions (anons, reblogs, moots —exposure.)

so then its like you’re kinda placed btwn a rock n a hard place. and there’s absolutely no problem with that! in fact this is the best part—meeting friends and like-minded people! people that make being online all the more worth it right? thirsting over fictional characters and sharing in each other’s works!

but you have to be in specific circles it seems. but then you can’t imply that you want to be in those circles bc then you’re desperate.

but well, then you cant purposefully want to be independent or be on your own or else you’re a hater, hypocrite or stuck up. not to mention, no one will reblog your stuff lol. no one will interact fr, and you’re friendless essentially. and god forbid if you disagree on something as if opinions don’t exist btw! then you’re being ganged up on. (like omg grow up!)

but then if you reach out you’re seen as trying to wedge in or kiss ass? you interact and follow and you’re ignored or left hanging? (bc im gonna touch your hand when i say this—it never gave fan, your majesty of horny nerds) and this is about ALL the writing communities and fandoms—spicy content, black content and dark content. ALL.

yet no one wants to talk about the pregnant elephant in the room—bias. and favoritism. also people seem to have a hard time being direct with how they’re feeling toward/about someone ( in a good or bad way) which in turn leads to a lot of miscommunication and subliminal attacks. (not to mention hate anons? one of my moots just had her inbox flooded w/them recently, ew.)

you can lead a horse to water AND you can write a 500-word essay on the observations made on tumblr writers as a whole. (a long ass post on the truth on behalf of those feeling this too)

also, slapping a HEY LOOK AT ME! IM A WRITER WHO WANTS INTERACTION AND FRIENDS! on a blog is frankly embarrassing. it shouldn’t even take all that seeing how easy it is for others wanting the same thing.

or doing less to achieve the same result.

not to mention, yall shit on ppl who essentially feel this way altogether bc you peg them as sb who doesn’t “try” or just jealous when their own works are phenomenally written themselves. ive seen it. and ive lived it. never gave jealousy baby.

at the end of the day, we’re all writers— either longterm or hobbyists. (personally, im longterm) self-indulgent or not! and its absolutely amazing when people are being fair in how they spread love and feedback to their writers.

Secondly, its not news that people have to want to reblog your fics so that their followers can reblog, so they can reblog, and their followers can reblog and so forth. but ppl honestly dont care atp bc once they’ve already read it, they owe you nothing. and apparently asking for reblogs is crass and bold. (imma do it anyway) but putting your very all into a story just to turn and see a half-thought out hc soaring 3k in 2hrs and 5k in a day — you have to stfu, open your ass and take it. keep it cute!

you’re getting fucked after all!!

because if you complain—you’re just jealous and lazy and uncreative!! and i hate that to seem like a writer worth a damn, you have to change up your writing style every two weeks to fit in with trending waves.

“no more poetic long fics, nobody’s into that! short, snappy slutty shots are all the rage!” “ppl are only into these specific tropes but you can’t exceed 2k words!” “only add trending characters to these hcs! ppl love them only!” “don’t write too much about a specific character or else ill unfollow you!” its exhausting.

i am well within my right as a literary artist to desire more feedback and interaction on anything i put out. period. and you are too! 🫵

God, im tired of that stupid, ‘you have to enjoy your writing for yourself and not worry about notes’ line. i do love my writing! don’t get me wrong there’s nobody id rather write like if not myself fr. not to mention the inspiration i draw from famous literary authors. however, i would love feedback and the same energy that i see with others in my same caliber.

and when i see others that didn’t even try fr—its a slap in the face to put it bluntly.

i can want silly little comments and notes about something i cherish and put out for that reason and yall aren’t gonna make me feel bad about it. sorry! like yall really be making people feel shitty for wanting the same type of interactions you get! especially when its harmless, bye asf. nb want to recipe to ur peach cobbler b!

the only one giving push back are those appointed popular /top blogs n’ cliques tho. now personally, i honestly dgaf if you have 20 followers or 25k, writing is writing and if its good you should want to support it regardless of following count/interaction right?

unfortunately, and quite unsurprisingly its not the case for the rest of this hellhole lol. there’s always gonna be some “big blog” in any part of tumblr or any social media for that matter.

but when the sole purpose being on a site like tumblr to write is mainly exposure, then it just makes it ten times worse especially if it seems that these blogs are steady at the top of every. single. tag. and listen, i know how initially stupid that sounds but when you’ve picked up on patterns for as long as i have, well iykyk.

so imma be real bc no one else will, half of the posts that yall see with 25k notes have alr been done. just different characters, different words, different dialogue. And 8/10 its been done by sb who only received 100 notes. Thats the evil part. whats more is that it lacks the creativity the one post with 100-300 notes is filled with completely.

POP QUIZ! what post would readers be more inclined to read? — one that says 10k (ohhh that must be popular!) or the one with only 150 (oh i guess nb really liked that one) that no one is even willing to reblog for MORE. and BOOM. now yall wonder why so many great writers LEAVE, its a fucking joke.

so unfortunately its no longer only about or only on readers anymore. its about who you know and who you know is willing to support your fr. who is willing to REBLOG your fics for their friends and followers, so that their friends and followers can reblog. to fit in you actually have to get in these days and it makes it all less enjoyable. makes it a chore and if you aren’t ‘doing it right’ ultimately it makes you feel shitty about your writing. (Please don’t, you are doing amazing. its the platform.)

it makes people not want to jump into writing. it pushes away those who actually want to join writing communities and meet people without feeling like they have to jump thru hoops to thrive or worse—live in other ppls shadows. and then it deters those from speaking up in fear of being shut down by bigger groups. ive seen it happen time and time again.

lastly, and this is the juiciest part! you absolutely cannot say anything about any of this bc you’re complaining and a fisher just looking for attention and not someone who just want things to be fair all over. play the game, right? ( wrong. and if this is your logic, you suck! )

its no longer about making flashy banners and pretty themes. its no longer about how many clever directory links you add or how many games you initiate on your blog or whether or not you’ve reblogged your fic three times already. its about your “friends”, other mutuals, and blogs willing to support you too. not just the audience. audience gonna do what they want regardless. reblog, don’t reblog, whatever. “at least ive read it right?” but everyone knows this. duh! but it’s obvious who doesn’t care as long as they’re on top of that tag! its admirable in a way but it sucks for those wanting to break out and build some kind of readerbase and/or make friends.

TLDR; people need to stop being bias and be fair and open lol. stop picking favorites and share the love all around. you see another person writing your favorite character or trope, give them a fucking chance and reblog, regardless if they’re in your ‘circle’ / radar or not. regardless if you know them or not. hell, let them put you on to a new fandom. bc writing is writing and making new moots and finding new fics seem to be what everyone loves to showcase until its time to actually do it. no wonder people get discouraged to make friends and write, yall treat it like some kind of secret society when its supposed to be fun💀 not a competition. (yall need to dead this clique-y shit. )

#writers #writers of tumblr #WATCH EVERYONE SKIP OVER THIS DHDHDJDN #OH OH OH #and im black #LMAO THATS THE PUNCHLINE #so #all of this isnt only happening in a general writing fandom #but the little corner for my black people??#and in the corners of other minorities #IT HAPPENS HERE TOO DHGSGJG #nb is safe🙅🏾‍♀️#i thought we were escaping exclusivity?#and assumptions made about other people??#trust when i say this is NOT about anyone specific #just silly little observations #and pieces of my experiences #so any complaints #SHOVE IT SHOVE IT SHOVE IT!#will delete if this starts a revolt #or not bc i love chaos in the name of truth #i hope yall can feel the sarcasm this is kinda longer than i intended but i wanted to be as thorough as possible in my point #been working on this for a min #im not tagging as discourse bc this isn’t what this is #and if you treat is as such imma just assume you’re exactly who im talking about and keep it pushing🤷🏾‍♀️#just be better is all im saying #BYE I JUST CAUGHT SO MANY MISTAKES #the shame #i was caught up #but yall get it

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netflix · 2 years

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What are the Hargreeves gossiping about?

A spicy Umbrella Academy exclusive.

#tua #umbrella academy #exclusive #hargreeves siblings #himbosfandom #writing prompt #writers on tumblr

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chickenkupo · 2 months

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Treasure Hoard

Summary: As Neuvillette returns from his spontaneous trip from Liyue and delivers some gifts to Wriothesley, the duke starts to notice odd things happening around their shared living space. More objects keep appearing in their bedroom, treasures that don't make sense to Wriothesley such as shells, trinkets, gemstones and even various different type of tea cups. He swears up and down he hasn't been the one to purchase any of these goods, and when questioning Sigewinne about it, she's just as lost as he is.

What exactly is going on, and why does Neuvillette seem so pleased with himself?

Recommendations before reading: This little short story is a continuation of I Promise and Now For the Next Act. But, if you don't feel like really reading those, just know that Wriothesley and Neuvillette are mates, and they live together in a little sanctuary in Fontaine that was created for Neuvillette specifically by the Focalors.

Also, I'd highly suggest playing through the Lantern Rite event. I did most of it tonight and it was amazing and the adorableness of Neuv and Wrio was just MMMMM.

Warnings: This is a tame work, a little cute fluff treat. I told ya'll I'd be keeping you fed the week of Valentine's, and I meant it, so take this as a little sweet treat for you all. A Tumblr exclusive, if you will. You all have been wonderful to me here, and I'm glad to bring some entertainment to your days.

NOTE: This has not been beta-read, and I'm literally just typing this up on the Tumblr page thingie so it's gonna be a mess, but we are going to have some fun.

Wriothesley scratched his head as he took in the sight before him. In their shared bed lied a copious amount of seashells, scattered in every direction. Some were small, others almost comically large, but all of them unique in their vast differences in coloration and patterns. In fact, a lot of these shells were ones that he had never seen along the shores of Fontaine before, so he began to wonder just where exactly did this come from, and who would have done this.

Okay, let's be real. Neuvillette would have torn up anyone that had dared crossed into their chambers that wasn't himself or Sigewinne. Wriothesley had already confronted the Melusine about this, thinking that this must have been some sort of prank against him after he told her about how much tea Neuvillette had brought back, as well as the stone slate that contained a legal codex. It confused the man at first, but taking into account how loyal Neuvillette was to his position and status, it took a moment or two for him to realize that such a gift from Neuvillette was a great thing. Hence, why he did make a little section of his office in the Fortress of Meropide to house it, something that he could stare at everyday to remind himself that he was always on Neuvillette's mind.

So, Wriothesley concluded the only logical answer was that for some reason, Neuvillette had began to hoard all sorts of trinkets he must have found on his now random outings. The duke and the traveler made sure to convince him to take more breaks and to go out and see the world as much as he can, and it looks like the mighty dragon took their words to heart and had started doing just that. Only, it seems that for some reason, Neuvillette had begun to bring back all sorts of things he found during his outings. The young man only prayed that Neuvillette would break out of this mood soon, but didn't mind allowing it for now, just as long as the dragon was happy on his adventures and seeing Teyvat for what it really was, in all of it's mysteries and splendors.

As much as he wanted to daydream about how his man would look during different locations, such as the grassy hills of Mondstadt, the electrifying peaks of Inazuma, or even how the Sumeru sun would reflect beautifully off of the elegance that was entirely Neuvillette, he had to bring himself back to reality.

This was all getting ridiculous. The shells on the bed covered it almost completely, and he had no real room to put them in, maybe some storage containers they had from where Wriothesley's belongings had to be moved once he began residing there. The duke sighed as he grabbed an empty container, getting to work and putting the myriad of shells into it, tired from the work of the day and just wanting to relax in bed for a bit for a quick nap. He made sure to keep the box of shells close by, knowing that it would crush the dragon if he had tossed whatever he had decided to collect.

Yawning, Wriothesley removed his coat and clothing, stripping down and getting dressed in a pair of simple black boxers, before he snuggled underneath the soft sheets of their bed. He had been craving a nap all day, no amount of tea drinking seemed to deliver enough caffeine into his body to keep him awake. Surely a small nap wouldn't harm anyone, right? Besides, if he slept in too late, he knew that Neuvillette would wake him up and demand attention from him in one form or another.

Yeah, a nap sounded pretty good right now.

As the young man started to awaken from his slumber, he began to stretch out his limbs with a loud yawn as he normally did, until both hands and legs seemed to crash into something, the sounds of various things falling off the bed as he continued to stretch out his limbs. This startled the duke who immediately woke up in a state of confusion, causing his limbs to turn and twist more, causing even more items to fall, crashing into the floor.

What the hell was going on?!

The man arose, being careful not to make anymore sudden movements until he could gather exactly what was happening. His eyes widened in further confusion and panic as he saw just how stuffed the room was now. Sure, the area where the water surrounded the bed was clear, but the pathway out of the bedroom and around the bed itself felt like some sort of ancient loot hall from a temple of old. Dozens of gold and silver trinkets littered the floor, statues and plates, necklaces and gemstones of various colors and details. There seemed to also be random boxes of tea scattered around, as well. Some were new boxes that Wriothesley had become recently familiar of since the Steambird's articles began releasing after the Lantern Rite event. Others seemed like old brews that were, at this point, probably more for show than for actual consumption.

There were other goodies laying about as well. Books that dealt with true crime or laws of old, scrolls that were in languages that Wriothesley was very unfamiliar with, but there was one thing that seemed to stand out to the duke. It appeared that the bigger gold and silver pieces were placed near or on the bed, as if he were the one that was sleeping in a treasure vault and taking joy in all of the splendors, the further away the goods were from Wriothesley, the less vividness and preciousness the items seemed to hold. It was as if Neuvillette kept his closest valuables towards Wriothesley, with the duke himself seemingly being the most valuable one.

As Wriothesley was about to get up and try to figure out what to do with all of this, he heard the door connecting the bedroom to the living room open, Neuvillette walking through with even more goods in his arms. This time, it appeared to be various fruits and wrapped baked goods, a large smile appearing on his face as Wriothesley took in the scene, a slight glare in his eyes.

"Neuvillette, what the hell are you doing?!" the young man growled out, still stuck in place as he was afraid to move and make anymore of a mess.

The dragon put the items down in one of the few free spaces still left, his eyes never leaving his mate, as he tilted his head in confusion.

"Oh? What do you mean? I saw how happy you were when you received those gifts from Clorinde and I, and I couldn't resist. I was awful before, never thinking to shower you in actual physical possessions, because of my ignorance and fear of leaving my position for any sort of leave. Now, however, I have all of the time in the world to make up for it. See, here even, I ventured out all the way to this bakery on the outskirts of Fontaine, the breads appear to be truly delectable, at least that is what Furina told me. Here, you can see-"

"Neuv! Honey, you don't need to do this you know!" Wriothesley uttered out as he shoved away the trinkets and treasures near him, so that he could create a path for himself to reach his ridiculous lover. Neuvillette merely paused, blinking in confusion as the duke wrapped his muscular arms around his dragon, hugging him tightly and sighing.

"W-Wriothesley?" the dragon questioned, obviously welcoming the hug as he began to return the favor, wrapping his own arms around the broad chest of the man, as best as he could.

"You can be such a big idiot sometimes, you know that? You know every law of the land, every crime with every punishment to match it, laws old and new never forgotten by you. But you just don't get the simple stuff sometimes, do you?" the young man asked, kissing Neuvillette on the cheek, which made the dragon blush, still blinking with questioning eyes.

"Listen, Neuv, love, I don't need all of these things. Sure a gift here or there is nice for anyone, but I never held it against you that you didn't really do that before. We're both busy men with schedules that drive us insane sometimes. Look, just being able to come home to you and spend time with you and being able to look into those eyes of yours every night before I drift off to sleep, and waking up to look into them too, that's the best gift I could ask for, okay?" Wriothesley relayed to his mate, in such a calm manner that it almost seemed like a whisper.

The dragon's eyes widened as he listened to his lover, holding him tightly as his mate continued explaining. In a shocking show, small droplets of tears started to form at the edges of his eyes, before a few started to roll down his cheek, which Wriothesley wiped away, smiling softly and understandably at his mate. As much as Neuvillette was such a stoic and strict man, Wriothesley knew that he was starved for genuine love and appreciation, and even though his life was forever changed by this man and his want to keep him at his side forever, it was now more of a blessing to him than a curse would ever be. If he now had an eternity to live, then he would spend every waking moment of it showing that Neuvillette is appreciated and loved dearly, in return.

"Now, let's try to clean up this mess so one of us doesn't trip and break our necks just trying to get out the door, okay?" Wriothesley chuckled, planting a few more kisses on Neuvillette's cheeks, loving the way that his man's blush would deepen with every kiss received.

Neuvillette merely chuckled as he smiled a most gorgeous, heartfelt smile that he had ever mustered, in all of his centuries of existence.

"Of course, my most precious treasure."

#genshin impact #wriothesley #neuvillette #wriolette #ao3 writer #ao3 #neuvillette x wriothesley #writing #tumblr exclusive #genshin fluff #genshin drabbles

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coldresolve · 4 months

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Moneymakers: The Lost Media // Audio + Sharing Is Caring

Masterlist I said I'd have the next chapter finished to end the year on, but I don't, so you get this instead. This is (or will be) a collection of scenes or parts of scenes that never made it to the first draft of Moneymakers, but they’re all still canon things that happened, as far as I’m concerned. I’m probably going to rework some of them into the final version, but for now, they’re collected here. These all take place in “simpler times”, for lack of a better way to put it. Think pre-pt22//Fallout. Content warnings: [Captivity, skewed power dynamic, manhandling/roughhousing, hand gag, fear; alcohol, drugs (weed), smoking, intimidation, sadism, forced physical closeness/intimacy, forced drugging, shotgunning, mild choking, vague rape threats, body shaming but it's towards a skinny guy so you don't care lol.]

// Audio

From the living room, the title screen of a video game plays pensive music, still audible from the other side of the house. The windows showcase the pitch black of the outside; even the hallway, despite being illuminated by the light from the kitchen, is dim enough that Conrad intuitively keeps his hand on the wall as he exits the bathroom. They’re letting him roam the house now, but venturing outside his room carries the risk of the sorts of chance encounters he’d rather avoid.

He's five steps from the door to safety, and a timid relief is already setting in, as it turns out, all too prematurely.

One arm coils around him, pinning his arms to his sides, while his yelp is muffled by a hand firmly clamping down over his mouth. Conrad instinctually fights back at first, revolting at the heat of the chest on his back, panicking.

“Sh,” Renee hisses in his ear, no louder than a whisper. “It’s not like that! Fucking chill, dude, chill!”

Conrad whines into the hand, twisting to get out of Renee’s grip, but when he manages to wrench one arm loose, Renee shifts, pushing him back-first into the wall, hand staying firmly locked over his mouth. Hands pushing at the man’s chest, at his wrists, he meets Renee’s gaze with wide eyes - but he doesn’t look angry, per se. He just looks oddly frantic.

“Shhh!” he hisses again, holding up a finger between them. “Sh-sh-sh-sh-sh.”

Conrad reluctantly forces himself to freeze, breaths coming shaky through his nose.

Renee seems to still too. As soon as Conrad isn’t actively fighting anymore, his gaze slowly drifts to the side, unfocused for a moment. Five seconds, maybe ten, before his eyes snap back to Conrad, and a crooked smile forms on his mouth. “Do you hear that?” he whispers.

Eyes wide, Conrad frowns. It takes him a while before he can concentrate enough to listen more intently to his surroundings. There’s still that music emanating from the living room, and below that, the ambient hum of the house – lights, or maybe the buzz of the fridge, or the wind outside. His own heartbeat, struggling to return to normal. He shakes his head as much as he can with Renee still pressing it to the wall.

Renee rolls his eyes. “C’mere,” he sighs. And he grabs Conrad by the sleeve of his t-shirt to pull him down the hall, only stopping to exaggeratedly press his index finger to his lips when Conrad yelps again.

As they approach the door to Davin’s room, Renee slows down, footsteps silent against the hardwood floor. Instinctively, Conrad mimics the careful way of walking, despite how his body still buzzes with adrenaline.

Renee lets him go to stand opposite him, holds a finger to his lips again, nodding towards the door. “Listen,” he whispers.

Conrad swallows. He uncertainly presses his ear to the door.

Muffled, almost drowned out by the noise from the TV in the other end of the house, or even just Conrad’s own breathing – the faint, faint sound of music. It ebbs and flows, rises and falls to pitches that are barely audible. It sounds like a guitar, but not an acoustic one; it’s sharper somehow, more crisp. Quieter. It sounds like an electric guitar that hasn’t been plugged into anything.

Renee grins wide. “I fucking knew it,” he whispers enthusiastically. “You don’t have hair like that for nothin’.”

Conrad nods awkwardly.

They both listen to it for a bit. Notes cascading, weaving together. Balanced, in a way. The occasional slide upwards, like that thing guitarists do when they push the string up perpendicular to the fretboard. It’s not a song Conrad recognizes, and it’s hard to tell with no other instruments to accompany it, but it sounds refined.

“Do you think he’s ever used it to get laid?”

Conrad blinks. Shrugs noncommittally.

Renee snickers low. He purses his lips for a moment, then holds up a finger again, reaching for the doorknob. Slowly, incrementally, he pushes it down, one eye shut in a grimace as he listens for any tick of the spring.

Conrad takes a step backwards, prompting another eyeroll from Renee.

He opens the door maybe an inch, carefully releasing the handle again. A vertical strip of his face is illuminated by a soft yellow light.

The music is clearer now. Conrad is happy to leave it at that, but then Renee grabs hold of his sleeve again, pulling him in front of himself to peek through the crack, and reluctantly, Conrad lets him.

The only light in Davin’s room comes from the lamp of his desk, in front of which he sits silhouetted, head bowed, hunched over his instrument. He doesn’t move much as he plays, apart from tapping one heel near-soundlessly against the floor, and occasionally nodding a little. Left hand shifting along the neck of the guitar beneath the band of a capo, thumb pressed against the shiny surface. You can’t really see what his fingers are doing from the back, but you can hear it – the notes are clear, and almost brittle. He’s playing with a pick.

Renee lets out a soft snort.

The music stops. Davin hesitates for a moment, then turns his head to the side, face obscured by his hair.

Conrad doesn’t even realize what’s happening before Renee opens the door fully, and a hard push to his back sends him stumbling forward, tripping over himself. He braces his hands on the floor, gasping as he reflexively spins around – only to find the door shut firmly behind him.

He snaps back around again to find Davin now turned in the chair, staring at him, a pick between his teeth, brows raised.

Conrad stares back, too stooped to speak for a solid five seconds, before his brain finally registers that it might be a good idea to say something. “I’m, I’m sorry, I didn’t – I wasn’t—”

Davin eyes him up and down. Then looks at the door. He slowly grabs the pick out of his mouth.

And then he bursts out laughing.

// Sharing Is Caring

In the evening, Renee hauls him out into the living room to play video games again. A different one this time – a puzzle platformer where each one of them is a different robot who can shoot portals to and fro. Unlike the shooting game, Conrad isn’t completely lost for what to do in this one. The controls are easier when there’s no rush in having to aim at things with the joystick. The rules are more straightforward – you just solve the levels, one by one.

He starts out careful. Doesn’t speak up, even when he spots a solution that Renee clearly hasn’t seen yet. Just pretends to be oblivious. There’s a cardboard box of white wine perched on the edge of the coffee table, from which Renee steadily refills his glass. A bag of salted peanuts to go along with it, handfuls of which he nods down at a time. The offer is made early on, but Conrad declines, and Renee doesn’t press.

As the night goes on, Conrad tries to chip in more, uncertainly takes part in solving the puzzles, just to test the waters. To his surprise, Renee seems genuinely excited at that. Teases it out, even, and drops encouraging remarks every now and again.

Despite himself, despite everything, Conrad starts to enjoy it. Thoughts spent weighing the mechanical workings of each level, as opposed to wallowing in his own doom. It feels good to have some kind of human connection that isn’t steeped in violence. Even as Renee’s words begin to slur somewhat, and he seems to take the game less and less seriously. The atmosphere is still good. He’s still just fooling around, making lighthearted jokes.

Even when he suggests they go outside for a bit, Conrad’s alarm bells aren’t blaring. They did that the last time, too, and nothing happened. Why would it now?

It’s much colder this night. Immediately bites his skin on the very first step past the threshold of the sliding glass doors. Been raining from the smell of it, that damp earthy scent. The yard is pitch black.

Renee lets out a whistle as he zips his jacket up, patting the front down over his chest. “Shiiiiit,” he says. “Imagine your scrawny ass, that’s instant frostbite in this fucken’ weather.” He giggles, then steps away toward the right side of the deck, bootsteps sluggish against the wet wood, laces trailing behind him. Stands at the edge, back illuminated, feet spread slightly, and it isn’t until he hears it that Conrad realizes he’s taking a piss and awkwardly averts his gaze.

A dozen or so seconds of exaggeratedly minding his own business later, Conrad hugs himself tight to keep a sliver of warmth, until Renee zips his flyer back up and returns, fishing a pre-rolled joint out of his jacket. The lighter crackles, illuminating his face before the ember has been lit. He catches Conrad’s eye, blowing the first puff of smoke sideways into the wind. “D’you change your mind since last, hm?”

Conrad blinks. “About what?”

Renee takes another drag, then waves the joint between two fingers, raising a brow.

“Oh. Um, no thanks.”

Renee nods, sniffing slightly. He stuffs one hand into his pocket, watching the yard for a bit. And that seems to be it for the topic, until he turns back to Conrad again, brows furrowed. “Have you, like… never been high?”

Conrad shrugs a shoulder uncertainly. “Not… not really,” he mutters.

“For real?” There’s something almost appalled in Renee’s tone, like he’s struggling to conceive of the notion. He takes another drag, watching Conrad thoughtfully for a few moments. And his expression is hard to read in the low light, but Conrad swears he sees the moment when it slides into something more wayward, a glint in the eyes partially obscured by shadow and strands of bleached blond hair. “You should try it,” he says, and it doesn’t sound like a casual suggestion.

Conrad takes an involuntary step backwards. “I don’t, I don’t want—”

Renee rolls his eyes, giggling as he casually follows Conrad’s slow path of retreat. “Don’t be a fuckin’ prude, c’mon.”

Back hitting the outer wall of the house, Conrad swallows. “I s-said no.”

Renee snickers. “Did ya?” And he closes the distance, getting uncomfortably close, so close Conrad can feel the heat of his body, even through the cold. A hand loosely wraps around his throat, the knuckles of his index finger and thumb pushing at the bottom of his jaw, tilting his head upwards, while the palm of his hand pushes his head into the façade of the house. Renee takes another drag, making the ember crackle lightly, and he leans down, face a mere inch from Conrad’s, eyes dark. He blows the smoke out carefully, slowly, towards Conrad’s mouth.

Conrad holds his breath.

The hand around his throat tightens ever so slightly, squeezing uncomfortably around his larynx. He lets out a gasp.

“Inhale it,” Renee murmurs low. Tilts his head to the side for another drag. He’s so close, Conrad can feel the heat of the ember on his cheek.

When he blows the smoke out this time, Renee’s lips aren’t more than a few millimeters from Conrad’s. His breath is heated, and it’s not physically unpleasant, but the proximity makes the bile rise in Conrad’s chest. The looming threat of the fingers around his throat, the revolt in his core. Conrad has to force himself to breathe it in. The burnt herbal scent of it, under which the strong note of alcohol still lingers; the slightly bitter taste makes his stomach lurch. Something catches in his throat on the exhale, and he feels a strong urge to cough, but then Renee’s grip tightens, cuts him off – he barely manages a whine, hands pushing at the man’s wrist.

Renee shoves himself closer, using the weight of his own body to pin Conrad’s to the wall. By chance or intent, one of his legs ends up between Conrad’s, thigh leaning uncomfortably on his crotch. He nonchalantly takes another drag and leans down again, releasing the pressure on Conrad’s throat just to blow more smoke into his mouth.

Conrad shuts his eyes, reluctantly makes himself inhale it again. Whatever he can do to appease the situation, to avoid a more forceful approach. A feeling is spreading in his chest, or his head, it’s hard to tell. A lightness of sorts, a decluttering, mixed with a sense of grounding in his body, like he’s becoming attached to the wall, attached to the patio under the soles of his feet. Attached, in some way, to the hand coiled around his throat. There’s an edge to it. Fear.

“You’re fuckin’ lucky I don’t have a thing for twinks,” Renee murmurs, breath hot against Conrad’s skin. “I feel like making someone cum. I’m very good at that, y’know.” He takes a deep breath through his nose, keenly taking in Conrad’s expression. “But there’s no fuckin’ substance to you, is there? Stick figure ass. You look more fuckin’… snappable. Dry fuckin’ twig.” He hums, tongue sticking out between the teeth of a crooked smile. Brings the joint to his lips again. Doesn’t seem to mind that Conrad’s hands are trembling slightly on his wrist, just ducks down again.

Conrad forgets he’s supposed to inhale, finds himself letting out a soft high-pitched sound instead, one that ends up returning the smoke to sender. It prompts Renee to tighten his grip, leaning heavier against his body, hip digging into his lower abdomen.

“Breathe,” he growls.

Conrad winces, but he does it. Heaves the smoke through the constriction at his neck, feels it catch somewhere in his chest. The world spins on its axis, askew, moving without moving. It’s a new type of fear, one that isn’t as heavy, it’s hard to describe; less like a rhythm, and more like an even tone. There’s a detachment and an uncanny closeness, both equally poignant.

“Do you feel it?”

In his attempt at a nod, Conrad’s chin only hits the back of Renee’s hand. Renee still picks up on it, that’s what matters. He hums, satisfied, and then he lets Conrad go, taking a few steps backwards.

Conrad can’t help sighing out his relief, which quickly veers into a series of involuntary coughing. It takes him a moment to regather his bearings, and he shakily eyes the other, hand pressed against his chest, back still pressed against the wall.

There’s a smug grin playing on Renee’s features. “Not so bad, is it?”

#writing #moneymakers #conrad #renee #davin #the lost media #a tumblr exclusive ig

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pygian-weapon · 10 months

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the real question is, where will all the asian artists migrate to

#*shakes my hand @ Elon* now where am I going to find my carefully curated yuri and yaoi #you need to use 38595 exclusion tags to avoid being scarred for life on pixiv #and tumblr is all fine and dandy for the mutuals and writing your showet thoughts but I don't think it's super accessible for everyone #but I liked seeing artists sharing their creative process! And paleontologists talking about their research!#How am I supposed to see the Mexican translator and localizator of a manga talk about his method???#I'm happy that Musk is rolling inside a garbage can on fire but also he's destroying one of the ways we could interact with people #from all over the world. what are the alternativea

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highcaliberstupidity · 10 months

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Dog Days Pt.1

Part 2 (TBA)

Soap's never been much of a dog person.

He doesn't mind them, really, he'd loved the pooch he grew up with. But a stranger's dog, specifically a large one, yeah, any man was right to be wary of them, right?

So it's totally excusable for him to yelp like a scared little kid when a forty-kilogram German Shepard assaults him via slobber and tongue in the middle of the park. Minding his own business, drawing away, and then BOOM, several kilos of a very heavy, very wet dog that seemed intent on drowning him in its drool.

Casting his sketch pad and pencils to the side, all he could do was throw up his arms, calling for mercy as the big bastard just kept licking.

"Bloody 'ell, Riley, down!" A gravely, thick accent shouts and the assault comes to a very sudden end. Not before the bastard sticks a paw in his gut for good measure, that is.

For a long moment, all he can do is lay there, blinking confusedly at the blue sky as the slobber starts to dry.

Disgusting.

"Shit, sir, are you alright?" The sun and sky are blotted out, dark brown eyes full of concern and messy blonde hair snatching his attention. "Swear he's not usually like this, got a bit too excited and broke'is damn leash."

All Soap can bring himself to do is stare, blinking stupidly as his jaw falls open a bit. The mutts owner is nothing short of god-like, with wide shoulders and a slender build that tapered out of his line of sight.

Despite the black medical mask covering the lower portion of his face, the big brown eyes expressed all he needed to know as he gaped up at him.

Christ, the fucker was beautiful.

"...Sir?"

"Am I dead?" Oh, good fucking going MacTavish. "Cause you look like an Angel." Yeah, way to put your foot in your mouth you fucking bampot.

Promptly the pale, beautiful face scrunches up, and he could swear he sees a tinge of pink flush across his cheeks. "Did you just hit on me?"

"Did I?"

"Christ, did Riley hit your head off a stone or something?" Actual concern blooms in his eyes now, kneeling down next to him with a low huff. "Most sane men don't try to hit on someone when they're covered in dog spit."

Soap promptly lets out an affronted noise, sitting up fast enough to nearly brain his own skull of the strangers. "Oi, is'yer mutt that slobbered all over me!" He puffs, doing his best not to stare now as his higher brain functions slowly kick back online.

"Right, sorry bout that, he's usually pretty well behaved. Not to sure what got into him." As if summoned, the mutt in question, 'Riley' went in for another lick, only to be gently scruffed by the blonde. "Nough of that lad, leave the poor bastard alone. " He grunts, amusement clear in his tone.

"So, any chance I get to know the name of my beautiful savior?" Jesus Christ, apparently his higher brain function wasn't back up to snuff just yet. The blonde looks at him, and Soap can't quite tell if the squint of his eyes and furrow of his brow is a grin or a grimace.

"Mm, maybe." Brown eyes evaluate him for a moment, fingers toying with the torn end of the leather leash. "Have a coffee with me to make up for Riley, and I'll tell ya."

Soap grins despite the flush of heat that spreads across his own cheeks. "I'sppose I could be convinced, I even know one that's mut-Riley friendly." The blonde snorts, but there's a twinkle in his eyes now.

Yep, definitely grinning.

Pushing up from his squat, the blonde leans down to offer him a hand. "Well, lead the way then, mohawk."

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planetamarte · 2 months

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team dark week day 6 - together/journey

The other members of Team Dark attempt to wake up Rouge for the road trip they're going on. (543 words)

—

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

“Rouge,” Shadow says. “Wake up.”

“Ugh…” Rouge’s ears flop down against her pillow and she pulls the covers over her head. “Give me five more minutes.”

“It’s getting late. We’re wasting time.”

“Hun, I’m a bat… please try again later…”

“YOU ARE THE ONE WHO SET THE ALARM ON ME AND PLANNED THE ROAD TRIP WE ARE GOING ON IN THE FIRST PLACE,” Omega says. “LAST NIGHT YOU SAID, ‘WAKE ME UP IF I MISS THE ALARM.’ WE ARE NOW WAKING YOU UP.”

Rouge groans. “Bats are nocturnal, you know this… Omega, turn the alarm off…”

“I WILL NOT TURN THE ALARM OFF UNTIL YOU GET UP.”

A small voice is heard from the door of Rouge’s room. “Chao-chao?”

“We’re trying, Rusty,” Shadow says to his dark Chao as they fly into the room. “She’s not getting up.”

Omega lowers his volume akin to a whisper. “I AM OPENING THE BLINDS. SHADOW, PULL THE BLANKET OFF OF HER.”

“Why do I have to get the blanket?” Shadow whispers back. “She’s gonna start kicking me in the face.”

“ARE YOU SAYING YOU CANNOT TAKE A KICK TO THE FACE?”

“That’s not what I said and you know it.”

Omega ignores him and heads for the window. “I WILL NOW BE OPENING THE BLINDS. SHADOW, GET THE BLANKET.”

“Fine.”

Shadow pulls off Rouge’s blanket from the end of the bed, and Rusty attempts to help by flying in and grabbing a corner. Omega pulls the blinds of Rouge’s window open, letting in the sunlight of the early summer morning. Rouge hisses and instinctively kicks her legs upon the light hitting her face, and Shadow and Rusty jump backward, Shadow holding the blanket and Rusty still holding onto the corner they grabbed.

“IT IS TIME TO GET UP,” Omega says at his regular volume.

“Wow, good morning to you, too!” Rouge says with the sound of sleep still stuck to her throat, trying to cover her face from the sunlight with her hands. Rusty flies onto her bed and wordlessly starts poking their little hand at her cheek in an attempt to wake her up more. “Give a girl a warning, would you?”

“This wouldn’t have happened if you got up when we told you to,” Shadow says. “You better have finished packing.”

“GET UP AND EAT BREAKFAST. YOU MEATBAGS ARE ANNOYING WHEN YOU HAVE NOT YET EATEN.”

“I did finish packing, thank you very much,” Rouge says, finally getting out of bed. Rusty flies up from her side and sits on her head. She rubs the corner of her eye with one hand as she shuts off the ear-grating alarm beeping from Omega’s speakers with the other, and he leaves the room. She then smirks and says, “You sure seem excited about this road trip.”

“Please. You’re the one making us come,” Shadow says, tossing the blanket he’d still been holding back onto Rouge’s bed.

“Cha-chao!”

“Mhm. I know you’re excited, Rusty,” Rouge says, grabbing the Chao from her head and cooing at them. “Not as much of a grump as your papa, are you? You ready to go swim at the beach?”

“Chao!”

“HURRY UP AND EAT YOUR MORNING MEAL,” Omega yells from the kitchen.

“Relax, big boy! We’re coming!”

#talking #team dark week #teamdarkweek #sonic the hedgehog #team dark #rouge the bat #shadow the hedgehog #e 123 omega #chao #dark chao #shadow chao #rusty the chao #if you ever see this scene anywhere else down the line... this is the opening scene for a visual novel i wanna make!#i wanted to draw something for todays prompt related to this premise too but didn't have the time.. so here's this :) tumblr exclusive #my writing #marcelogs #tdrt

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twelves-writings · 11 months

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“You two are terrible parents.”

The words spilled from his mouth as the Fountain’s water had spilled at his ankles. It had pooled, puddled, and woven its magic into him. From his sandals to the top of his head, he had become a real boy! He was always “real,” of course. He was always able to see and hear and experience, and experience is the pinnacle of life. His parents had guaranteed that through their love for him. Which is why he was so surprised that the first words he had spoken were shaming them.

Hermes flew off without a word. They could barely fathom what they had just done. Terrible parents? In what multiverse?! They didn’t know where they were flying off to, only that they had to leave. They had to get their head straight. Terrible parents… They were already in Stratos, so Sanctuary was their only other option. Terrible parents… They were alive, with a beating heart and non-wooden joints and hair and fingers and toes and a mouth that moved, and that was all they had said.

Dad and Papá probably hate me now.

He landed on a tree on the outskirts of Sanctuary. He couldn’t bear to step inside the city, not after what he’d said. He would’ve had to look at all the grateful and thankful citizens of Sanctuary who had found refuge here under his father’s leadership, and he’d have to live with the knowledge of his hatred for him.

But he didn’t hate him!

Or… did he? If he’d said that to his fathers, he must have meant it, right? Hermes sighed, legs dangling off the jungle tree’s canopy. There were many times his fathers left him all by his lonesome. He recalled the days of sitting in his house in Stratos twiddling with leaves and chipping the glaze off terracotta, and the long hours of quietly watching Grandpapá Eddie smith armor and tools. He loved Grandpapá Eddie of course! He also loved the peoples of both his fathers’ kingdoms, but seeing the same people (and rabbits) do the same tasks and go through the same motions over and over and over again got boring. Fast. Hermes thought himself to have the best imagination of anyone in any empire, given how often he was completely and utterly alone. Dad was always building more of his great empire, or trading with his villagers, or pranking Uncle Jimmy for days at a time. And Papá was always building more of his empire, or welcoming new citizens from far-off lands, or fighting the evils of the world, or conversing with nature.

It seemed like they never had time for their son.

But, despite the frustration or upset feelings that came with being themself, Hermes was never mad at their dads. They loved walking through the streets of Sanctuary trying all the new foods and petting all the animals that came by. The feeling of flying between the floating islands of Stratos was unlike any other. They loved the people of each empire oh so much! They were both so unique in different ways, from their fashion to their trading styles to their food. Oh, the food was always so good!

Hermes was a bit hungry at the moment. Hunger. That’s a new feeling.

An old feeling was love. Not only did he love the empires and their people, but he also loved his family. Auntie Lizzie and her adventures, Uncle Jimmy and his cute secret toys, and all the other kings and queens and emperors and leaders of the other empires. He didn’t know them all that well, but he loved them too.

Because his dads loved them.

And Hermes loved his dads.

Any of the bad they had done didn’t mean all that much to him. And if it did? He’d talk to them about it later. But it didn’t matter right now. Right now what mattered is that Hermes loved his dads. Thunder Daddy Joel had taught Hermes how to fly, and how well gold looked with quartz, and how to build big houses for the people you love. Papá Sausage showed Hermes all the best food from back home, and how to speak and listen to Spanish, and the best way to chop each kind of wood.

Papá protected them and saved them. Dad brought them to life. And both of their parents taught him love.

Hermes was about to learn his first lesson of his living, breathing, talking life: how to say sorry.

With a look down at Sanctuary, Hermes flew off into the sunset to apologize to his dads.

Little did Hermes know they were about to experience a new feeling: the feeling of being hugged by the people you care most about.

#might post this to ao3 later #but for now im feeling silly goofy #so y'all get a tumblr exclusive!#twelves writings #empires s2 #empires smp s2 #hermes empires s2 #hermes empires smp #mythicalsausage #smallishbeans #joel smallishbeans #word count: 793

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prettyiwa · 1 year

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I do not authorize the translation or reposting of my work.

(previous) Relationship: Miyuki Kazuya x F!Reader Rating: SFW Content Tags: POV Miyuki Kazuya, Childhood Best Friends to Lovers, Soulmates (if you squint), Brief Mention of Grief, Adolescent Teasing, Light Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hints of Jealousy, One (1) Instance of Profanity (guys, it's me.), Concerned Miyukis (Toku makes an appearance), the Author Has Unrealistic Expectations About Seating on Public Transit, Reference to Kazuya's Name Etymology Summary: What are best friends for if not dragging into playing catch or forcing to model for your art? Word Count: 3,100

A/N: Let me know if you'd like to be tagged for future updates. I cannot promise a timeline/schedule for when they'll be published, but the option's there if you want it.

@tyga-lily, @no1frogfan, @bajiissofine (since you'll be reading the first in a bit)

He forgets how old both of you were, but it was around the time you were learning how to ride a bike. It was you who went first, terrified and unable to find your words. Absolutely petrified. Maybe your nerves carried over but he remembers feeling antsy, too. All he really knows is, you started calming down when he ran alongside the bike—as fast as he could, anyway. He shouted at you and you heard him clearly, despite high emotions and adrenaline.

I’m right beside you.

When it was his turn, you said the same thing.

Age 13 (Almost 14) | August 23

With the exception of you sitting on the benches next to his bag, Kazuya’s alone on the practice grounds. The upperclassmen left a while ago, uninterested in bettering themselves beyond regular practice, and the players in his year left not too long after. Adults still hover at the top of the hill, chatting with one another before they’ll eventually head home, taking the remaining teammates with them, but he’s not counting on them. They aren’t gonna help him keep practicing, so he’s not worried about them. It makes things difficult, but not impossible.

You’re here, so it’s definitely not impossible.

Kazuya approaches you, calling your name, unable to stop his grin from growing. You look up from your sketchbook with a smile of your own, but it drops the moment he tosses the ball into the air. By the time he’s caught it, your smile has turned into a frown and your nose is back in your book.

“C’mon. Just ten more minutes. Play with me for ten minutes.”

“I don’t want to play with you for ten more minutes because it’s never just ten minutes.”

“Okay… what do you want to do, then? Can’t be as fun as playing baseball.” He knows what you’d rather be doing, you art nerd, but he’ll ask anyway.

“I’d rather be drawing.”

“Ha! I knew it, art nerd!”

Your brows scrunch together and he can almost hear you call him baseball geek before his coach calls out to you both, interrupting whatever you were gonna say.

“Hey! Are you kids coming along? It won’t be light out for much longer.”

That catches your attention, making you jump to your feet to address him. Offering a slight bow, you call out, “We’ll be okay to travel alone.” Kazuya’s smirk grows again, knowing you’d only say that if you planned on helping him anyway. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t push himself too hard. Thank you!”

Coach seems satisfied, but Namikawa’s dad isn’t.

“What about your mothers? Won’t they worry?”

Even though it’s supposed to be hot, late summer, it feels cold. Kazuya looks at you and notices the way you freeze up. Coach leans over and Kazuya knows what he’s saying, even without hearing it. Your shared reality for the last six years, but it bothers you a whole lot more than it bothers him.

Your grip around your sketchbook tightens and his smile is gone when he shouts back, “We’re fine. My dad knows where we are. You guys shouldn't wait for us.”

“Kazuya, you’re being kinda rude,” you mutter, turning to face him. He doesn’t like the way your smile’s disappeared.

“I don’t care about that.”

Coach doesn’t either, it looks like, because he bids you both good evening, reminding Kazuya that practice starts later tomorrow.

You return to your spot on the bench and he stands there a bit longer, wondering why people have to make things into something they’re not. What would it have mattered what your guys’ moms think? It doesn’t since they don’t. Glancing your way, he sees that you’re still frowning and he remembers it’s always been a little harder on you, especially since your dad won’t do anything to help, but there’s not a whole lot he can do about that.

Tossing the ball into the air, he catches it, again and again, higher and higher each time.

“Stop moving so much.”

He catches the ball once more, looking over at you, watching him from just atop your sketchbook. Again.

“I can’t stop moving,” he says, tossing the ball up, up, up. “I’m practicing.”

“You don’t even have to practice right now. You did that for three hours already. It’s just you.”

You’re still moping, so he decides to goad you, just a bit. “This’ll go faster if you pick up the ball and help.”

Glaring at him, you scoff. “How could that possibly help?”

“If I get used to your crappy and wild pitches, I’ll be able to catch anything.”

That does it. His smile returns in full when you close your sketchbook and almost slam it down beside you, looking like you want to fight.

“I’m going to end you, baseball geek.”

He can’t contain his laughter, not when your pride prevents you from taking any slight lying down. “Practice with me and then you can sketch all you want.”

“Alright. Fine. Jackass.”

He laughs again as you start to warm up your shoulder, but your scowl only deepens. He knows that once you get going, you’ll actually enjoy playing with him—getting you to start is always the hard part. He doesn’t understand why, especially since it didn’t use to be like this. You used to enjoy playing with him and do it willingly. But things change, he supposes. Like what Akari said yesterday (though he’s pretty sure she only said it to annoy Kazuya). Her comment festers and he tries to remember how you reacted and it’s enough for him to laugh again.

“So vulgar! How do you expect to make other friends or find a boyfriend with a mouth like that?!”

For a couple of minutes you don’t say anything, focusing on warming up while shooting him a withering glare once or twice. You raise your hand to ask for the ball, catching it without flinching or looking away and it makes him excited.

“I make friends fine.” There’s a crawling under his skin when you say that, a light itch that doesn’t really go anywhere. He opens and closes his mitt, hoping you’ll throw your first pitch and he can forget about it. “No one would even want me to be their girlfriend so long as you’re around.”

Or not. You could say that and the itching could get worse and it could feel like something heavy’s twisting his stomach. The dropping in his chest reminds him of those dreams he sometimes has where he’s falling.

He shouldn’t have asked.

You throw your first pitch with more control than you usually exhibit. He doesn’t have a retort or a compliment to offer and he thinks he can hear Akari laughing at him. “So what? You want me to stop hanging around as much?”

You catch the ball he throws your way and he can tell that, at the very least, you aren’t upset at the question about your mom anymore. He sees it in your eyes as you wind up—you don’t even have to say it. He hears you clearly simply by being the person to catch your pitches. Harder than you usually do and with better aim than you usually have. Maybe his comments went too far this time.

Waiting until you have the ball again, you answer before you throw. “No. I’d rather be friends with you than have some boyfriend.”

It’s like you’re spitting the word, like it’s the worst insult he could’ve thrown your way, but he doesn’t care. That twisting stops and the itching does, too. The way the ball nestles into his mitt tells him you’re still mad, but it’s hard to focus on that because his heart stops completely, turning him cold before burning him up. Heat spreads across his face and he feels dumbfounded until you call out to him, expecting the ball.

Throughout the rest of your practice, you don’t say much more, letting your pitches speak for you. That’s fine—your words won’t stop replaying in his ears anyway. All in all, he shouldn’t push you. You’re not an actual pitcher, despite the promise you show and the way the girl’s team would probably love to have you. It’s getting dark but he likes this.

He likes playing like this with you. No matter how much of a fuss you make, you always end up having fun, too. He likes that he can understand you perfectly when you throw the ball his way. It reminds him of when things were a little bit easier. The natural light is running out and you complain that you’re getting hungry, meaning he can’t keep this up much longer.

The distance between the field and the bus stop seems shorter than usual, filled with him trying to get you to admit you had fun, no different from any other time you two do this. He gets nothing but non-answers and he knows you’re still annoyed with him, so it’s no surprise when you pull out your sketchbook the moment you two are seated on the bus.

At first, you don’t mind when he leans on you, looking over your shoulder as you touch up what you had been working on earlier. Most of the pages are filled with him, but he spots his teammates there as well. The bus continues on its route and gradually empties as it always does around this spot at this time of night and you push him away.

“Hey, what’s that for?”

“Shut it. I want to draw you. You said I could.”

He sighs, giving up whatever fight he planned on giving. It’s not the worst thing ever and he kinda likes the attention you give him, especially since it means you won’t be angry with him for as long. As you try to steady the pages, you end up lowering your sketchbook and he gets caught on the fact that you’re using the purple pencil again. You always seem to use it when you draw him, but he can see Namikawa and his coach in orange and red at the bottom of the page, just beneath your hand.

“You always draw me in purple, but you draw Namikawa in orange.”

“Okay?”

You don’t stop sketching, only looking up for reference. He knows that look—like you’re not only seeing him, but seeing through him. Sometimes he hates that look, but he imagines it can’t feel that much different when you sit at his games and practices.

“Why?”

“Why…? Why do I draw you using purple?” Your brows scrunch together and your tongue peeks out as you try to get the lines just right.

“Yeah. Why not orange or red?”

“Because you’re not.”

“I’m not what?”

“You’re not orange or red. You’re purple.” Spoken like the truth. Something known, like the depth of the Mariana Trench being over 11,000 meters or that the sun will always set and that he’ll seek out baseball when it rises again or that you’ll call his name and he’ll come running. Kazuya doesn’t quite understand how you’ve made this your truth.

As if you can feel his confusion, you look up, properly. Your face relaxes and you tilt your head back before saying, “You’ve always been purple. Does it really bother you?”

Again, you say it like it’s a fact.

But he considers your question and comes to the conclusion that it doesn’t bother him. Not really. “I guess not.”

Nodding before returning to the page, you take a moment before speaking again. “Kazuya, I don’t remember asking since we were kids.”

“Asking what?”

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Oh.”

What a silly question, but you’re an artist, so it makes sense that you’d ask him something like that. While he thinks, wondering whether he even has a favorite color, you grab his chin and move back into position.

“Uh, I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it.”

“What about orange?”

It’s a nice color. Reminds him of summer and how hot it gets and how much fun he has. It reminds him of you a little bit. “I like it. It’s warm.”

“It is. It’s connected to sunshine and happiness.”

“No kidding? What about red?” He likes that, too, but it’s everywhere. Not that it’s a bad thing, but there has to be a reason for that.

You hum, tilting your head to the side before answering. “Protection and strength, I think.”

“What about purple?”

Why do you think he’s always been purple?

“Well… it was hard to get, for dye and paint and stuff, so only royalty and people at the top had access to it—”

He laughs and you pull him into position again. “What, so you think I’m some kind of royal?”

It’s your turn to laugh, and it’s the infectious kind that drags him in, too. Your pencil pauses for a moment and you look at him. “No, you idiot. Maybe it’s because of your name or because you’re jersey number two on the field. I don’t know. I mean, I can’t think of anyone who’s all that better at catching than you.”

There’s a catcher that comes to mind, but he can’t be bothered to think of him when you give a compliment like that. Even if you tell him you don’t know a thing about baseball (which is an absolute lie) and you tell him that your opinion on the sport shouldn’t matter, it does. You continue your thought and he’s unable to put away his cheeky smile.

“I read somewhere that purple sometimes means strength and drive. I don’t know. That all seems like you.”

“I suppose so.” You return his smile before gently closing your sketchbook, denying him the opportunity to see how much progress you’ve made. The bus comes to a stop and he follows you off it, happy when you take a moment to wait for him instead of just going ahead. “So… what’s your favorite color?”

You glance in his direction before taking a step in the direction of home. “Purple.”

“Oh, so you draw me purple because it’s your favorite color and I’m your favorite person.”

“No!” He snickers at your reaction, at the playful way you push his shoulder, glad to have pushed the right button at least once today. “Purple’s my favorite color because I’m always drawing you and you’ve always been purple.”

His words die on his tongue and he can’t tell why. He wants to respond (maybe tease you some more) but he can’t find any words. A smirk forms on your lips, happy that he’s being quiet. The two of you walk in silence for a couple minutes and it’s not until you’re a block away from home do you turn to him with that smile that means you’re up to no good.

“Y’know… Tanaka-sensei was complaining that sometimes purple can be really difficult to print. Maybe that’s why you’re purple. You’re just difficult.”

“Seriously?”

Your laughter echoes down the street before you skip in front of him, stopping in front of his house as he catches up.

“Hey, don’t you wanna stay and eat? I don’t think your dad’ll have anything at home.”

“Nah, that’s why I have to get home. I might need to make something.” You say that, but you glance toward the lights that are still on in the factory.

“You’re going to end up poisoning you both. Just stay and eat with us. It won’t take too long.”

“I shouldn’t.” Even though it looks like you want to.

He can try once more—

“How else are you supposed to finish your drawing?”

A smile appears on your face, nice and wide and one he only sees when you’re really happy with him. “Seriously? You’d sit still for me?”

“Yeah!” If it gets you some proper food tonight, yeah.

You bite your bottom lip, chewing on it while you think. “Could you do that tomorrow? I gotta make sure he’s good.”

That feeling in his chest gets smaller and his smile feels heavier, but he still makes it come. “Yeah, I’ll do it tomorrow.”

The light inside the factory turns off and you both turn as the metal doors shut, bringing Dad and Kusaga outside. After locking the doors, Dad catches sight of you both, walking forward after wishing Kusaga a good night.

“You two are out late. Did Kazuya keep you at practice again?”

“Nope! He was helping me with my art today.”

Dad gives him a look that tells him he knows better, but he simply asks you, “Can I take a look?”

Flipping through the pages, you land on the ones of today, bringing it to him. “This is what I was able to do while he was practicing, but this is what he helped me with after.”

Dad takes a moment to look through your sketches, the same ones Kazuya peeked at earlier. You never let him see how far you got with the sketch from the bus and it bothers him a little that Dad gets to see it first. But you’re trying to save him from another lecture about keeping you out too late, so he’ll leave it alone.

“You’ve improved quite a bit.”

“Thank you! I’ve been working at it as hard as Kazuya’s been working on baseball, I think. I can’t let him be the only one with talent here.” Dad laughs but that doesn’t stop your smile from starting to slip away. “I should start heading home. Dad’s waiting for me.”

His dad looks at him briefly before turning to you. Part of him hopes he’ll invite you to stay for dinner because you suck at telling parents no, but a larger part of him knows that Dad wouldn’t do that.

“You good to travel alone? Kazuya and I could walk you.”

“No, it’s okay. Thank you for offering!”

“Alright. Tell your dad I said hi.”

You wave to them both as you continue heading down the street, turning away without much of a smile. Dad turns to him again but, before he can say anything, Kazuya speaks up.

“Can I walk her home anyway?” He thinks about it for a moment, glancing the way you’re going, and Kazuya adds, “It’s just around the corner.”

That seems to do the trick and Dad extends his hand, gesturing to Kazuya’s bag. “That’ll be fine. I’ll get started on dinner.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

Kazuya doesn’t give him any time to respond, hurrying after you like you had called. Even if you didn’t call his name, he’s sure he heard it anyway.

Promises We Exchanged Fic Page | Daiya no Ace Masterlist | Next

#miyuki kazuya x reader #miyuki x reader #daiya no ace x reader #ace of diamond x reader #daiya x reader #✒.ix writes #✒.promises we exchanged #pwe #Miyuki Toku deserves more love and I will be busting him out in as many Kazuya stories as I can〜#I have the following part about a third of the way done but it's... a bit more time consuming so we'll see how this goes down #this won't appear on AO3 until I have Part I finished so for now it's a tumblr exclusive #daiya.✒#the boy

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rovermcfly · 8 months

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little update on that endeavor: the reason I'm taking so long is the mountain of secondary literature I want to get through and a trip I was on. also it's currently a baker's dozen of pages long and certainly not finished yet

#anyway going on a trip again so again it'll be at least another week if not more before I MIGHT finish #safe for a few tumblr audience-targeted sentences it is EXACTLY a term paper I would have submitted in uni #and I mean exactly. it is mla formatted and everything #I am also exclusively writing it at night when I should definitely be asleep- just like in uni!#you can take the boy out of academia but you can't take the academia out of the boy #benedick and beatrice are t4t #much ado about nothing #shakespeare

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fedorah-the-explorah · 5 months

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fan fiction ideaaaaaaaaaa! ❤️

Shadowsan has to trust chief with his life during a caper, and Carmen knows that it’s like the only way to save some sort of artifact or something like that, but she doesn’t trust chief whatsoever, due to the trauma that cheif did kill Carmen’s biological father, so Carm is like super scared and worried for Dadowsan.

I just thought it was a good idea, something that could be used later on for you, but it’s like your choice if you actually want chief to make a mistake and then something happens to shadowsan, and then Carmen is like super pissed…….like dangerously pissed………but it’s totally up to you if you want to make it a happy ending or a sad ending lol 😘😘😘

your amazing and tysm for all you do for this fandom, your pretty awesome and I see ur stuff all the time, you are a writing genius pretty much lolll ❤️

Omg stop it, I'll cry right now-- that was such a kind thing to say about my writing. It really made my day ❤️

Anyways, here ya go! It's not very long and I'm not sure it's quite what you had in mind, but I'm happy with it. This takes place post series.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She was a light stepper, but that's never meant much to him. He raised her from infancy; he knew her presence well.

"Are you going to lurk there all day," he asked, "Or are you going to say hello?"

He turned around, abandoning the task of polishing his newly--and legally-- acquired swords. Carmen glanced at him wordlessly, contributing nothing. She was sullen as stared down at the hotel room's desk, absently running her fingers along the surface. Her lips were slightly pursed and her eyebrows were drawn. He recognized the look well, and seeing it, he may as well have been picked up by the scruff and placed back in time twelve years.

Black Sheep had never been much of a reticent child, but when she wanted something she knew they wouldn't allow, she took her time to work up the will to ask. She would become silent and broody, and Shadowsan always found it amusing how transparent children could be.

"Is there something you want?"

She glared down at the desk, fingers drawing still. He folded his hands behind his back as he waited on her.

"...Let me come with you." She said.

"No."

"Shadowsan."

"You are in no condition," He said, nodding to her arm in a cast. "How did that even happen?"

"I don't want to talk about it." She muttered.

He hummed and made a mental note to ask Player about it later.

"I thought you were out of the game," She said, "What changed?"

He looked at her, eyebrows raised. "I could ask the same of you. Why are you here, Carmen?"

She snorted. "I'm only partly retired. You know I can't sit still."

He considered this. He nodded.

"Point."

"Why are you doing this, Shadowsan? What happened to living a normal life?"

"This operation hits close to home. Various museums around the country have been the targets of often violent robberies. ACME Intel indicates that Matsumoto could be next."

"'Could be,' huh? Give me and Player two hours and we'll get you definite answers."

He frowned at her, eyes narrowing.

"What is this about, child?"

"I'm not a child." She muttered.

He rolled his eyes. "Forgive an old man for his habits."

She turned away from him.

"Carmen."

She stared at the floor, shoulders held stiffly with tension.

He pressed again. "What is bothering you?"

She huffed. "It's just..."

She trailed off, her fists clenching as she spun back around.

"...Why do you have to work with her?!"

He blinked, somewhat taken aback. That's what this was about? She'd come all the way to Japan just to plead with him against working with ACME's chief...? He thought her issue with the Chief had been long resolved, was there something he was missing?

"I mean, what's it even about? Chief doesn't do field work! That's weird! And why couldn't you have partnered with literally anyone else? Fuck! You, Zack, and Ivy have tons of experience working together. You could have worked with Jules, or Devineaux, or even Zari! I don't trust it."

He grunted. "I would not work with that French idiot even if my life depended on it."

"Why her?"

He hummed. "I imagine it has to do with me being ex-VILE. It would make sense if she wanted to make sure of my allegiances herself."

"That's ridiculous. She has both Zack and Ivy's word. If she trusts them then she should trust you."

"ACME's chief is a cautious woman."

"Oh, really. Wasn't very cautious of her when she pulled a gun on my father."

Oh.

Okay. He understood now.

"Are you worried she's going to..?"

She hugged herself, suddenly looking very unsure of herself.

"No... Yes. Maybe... I don't know. Just let me come with you..?"

He sighed heavily and approached her. He put a hand on her shoulder and waited for her to look at him.

"I will be fine," He assured her, "I've been in and out of this game for a long time. Even if she does try anything-- which I know she won't-- I am perfectly capable of defending myself."

"I know, but--"

"--Have you been doing okay?"

"...What?"

"Have you been doing okay? You know I am happy to have you here, but I must admit that I'm worried about you. You flew all the way here, and for what? To accuse a woman you yourself have worked with of plotting something insidious? It's uncharitable, and I hate to say it, but incredibly irrational."

She pulled away from him.

"I'm fine." She insisted, "God, you and Player sound exactly alike."

"Player is an intelligent young man."

She rolled her eyes. "Alright, fine, whatever. Maybe I'm being unfair, but you'll have to excuse me if I trust a little less after all the shit I've been through."

She swallowed harshly and swiped at her eyes. He watched her silently, a dull ache in his throat and a stabbing desire in his heart to vanish anything that troubled her.

"Perhaps I should move closer to you, I--"

"What? No. Shadowsan, that's-- No. You're finally back with your brother, you don't have to--"

"--I don't have a responsibility to Hideo, Carmen. You're like a daughter to me, and if you're struggling--"

"--I'm not struggling."

"It's okay if you are."

"Well, I'm not. And it's fine. I have Player. You don't have to uproot your entire life for me."

He smiled ruefully. Of course she wouldn't understand, it wasn't her job to.

Back in the beginning, years and years ago, he'd never been one to care much about anything. Life had not been kind to him, and so he was not kind to others. But it was in those early days, the first few sleepless nights before the nannies showed up, that he found himself actually concerned about somebody else. Holding the child, wishing desperately that she would just go the fuck to sleep, he came to reckon with his role in her life. He had, completely and irrevocably, changed the course of her entire life. She was his responsibility, and it wasn't about him anymore. Anything he'd ever do would have to be for her. This was the burden he shouldered.

(he'd choose this burden time and time again.)

"I uprooted your entire life, are you sure you don't want to return the favor?"

She snorted, a small smile that she tried to fight gracing her lips.

"I want you to reconnect with your brother."

"And I want to make sure you're happy."

"I am happy, Shadowsan. I just... have a lot going on." Her voice sort of hitched at the end, and ouch. It pained him to see her like this.

She shuffled closer to him and he recognized the action for what it was. Even as a child, she could never bring herself to ask for affection. She'd just kind of follow you around and stare up at you and wait until you got the message. The other three never quite caught on-- or, they did, and they opted to ignore her. Then there was Coach Brunt, and that was just... Ugh.

Understanding her need, he took her and held her close. She threw her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder.

"I've just been so... weird lately."

"It's understandable after all you've been through."

"I can barely relax."

He had no good response to that. He pet her hair instead.

"I don't want to lose you."

"I know."

"...I um. You know that I love you, right?"

He smiled softly, quiet content spreading warm in his chest. He kissed the crown of her head.

"I know. I love you too."o

#carmen sandiego 2019 #carmen sandiego netflix #carmen sandiego #shadowsan #dadowsan #carmen sandiego fanfic #she broke her arm by falling off a roof to get a frisbee for one of the kids #she got distracted by another kid trying to climb onto the roof and whoopsie dasies #someone learned a valuable lesson about not doing stupid shit in front of children #but also now the kids know not to climb on the fucking roof lmao #okay i said i was happy with it but then i reread it and #blehhhh #not my best work but yolo #my tumblr exclusives are just like that #'s what happens when you write something in one sitting

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bakuhatsufallinlove · 1 year

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Circling back to this post to clarify something--

As I mentioned, Katsuki says that he bullied Izuku out of a desire to ignore the weaknesses in himself that he could not understand. This is correct in the manga, but technically not in the anime, because the manga uses a unique pairing of kanji and furigana to convey an additional meaning to Katsuki's words.

Furigana are the tiny little phonetic characters to the right of kanji. They are used in manga to help younger readers understand words they may know phonetically but maybe not in writing; they are also used to clarify meaning and readings in uncommon usage.

And they are used by writers to express layered, dual, or contradictory meanings.

In the manga, Katsuki says: 「理解できねェ自分の弱さを棚上げして虐めだ。」

The furigana tells us he pronounces the kanji 自分 (normally read as jibun) as てめー (temee). てめー means you, this is the pronoun Katsuki uses for basically everyone, so it is clear he is talking about Izuku's weaknesses. But 自分 is a reflexive pronoun meaning my own, myself, so this tells readers that, out loud, Katsuki is saying "Izuku's weaknesses," but he means "my own weaknesses."

The anime uses the furigana, Okamoto Nobuhiko says てめー. This is normal because furigana express the phonetic reading of the line, which is what the people he is talking to in-universe would hear him say, and the kanji is just extra nuance for readers.

(Bonus fact: you might have seen Okamoto mention that the voice director told him, "Don't talk to All Might, just talk while looking at Deku" for his reading of this line. This is an excellent interpretation of Katsuki's mindset here and is reinforced by the words he uses. He is talking to All Might, so when he says てめーの弱さ, this would ordinarily be understood to mean All Might's weaknesses, because temee means you! But Katsuki obviously doesn't mean that. He is thinking out loud about Izuku... so he ends up talking to Izuku, not All Might.)

Anyway, my description in the initial post of the subtitle being incorrect was a little clumsy. I was primarily focused on the mistranslation of the relationship between the verbs. The issue with "It creeps me out and makes me want to ignore the fact that I bully him because I can't understand his weaknesses," is that the direct object of 棚上げして (tanaageshite, setting aside of, shelving of) is not Katsuki's bullying of Izuku, it is "his weaknesses that I can't understand."

The thing Katsuki has tried to set aside and ignore is not his bullying of Izuku, it is Izuku's incomprehensible self-sacrificial nature. I wanted to emphasize that, because this line is Katsuki speaking really frankly about his mistakes, and I didn't like the idea that people could misinterpret this as him being dismissive of them.

But I got a little careless about the difference in pronouns between the manga and anime, sorry about that! At least now we got to talk about cool layered furigana meanings. :D

#clarifying something in my post #oops #apparently I exclusively write long posts #enjoy the ride I guess??#I could talk for hours about our bomb-boy #translations #meta #bkdk #had to edit this a couple times because I'm aggressively bad at formatting tumblr posts

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essektheylyss · 2 years

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I am once again BEGGING folks in the critrole fandom to understand that terms for problematic queer tropes have actual meaning and context.

Queerbaiting cannot exist in the context of "the queer relationship I prefer didn't happen but another one did." Nor does it mean "a queer character doesn't get into a relationship with someone they're implied to be attracted to." It cannot exist because one character you wanted to be queer was not confirmed as such and did not have the chance to explore a relationship the fandom wanted, in spite of a plethora of other queer characters and relationships in the media.

Because queerbaiting means an intended, marketed implication that there would be a central queer relationship that was never actually going to be delivered on, in an effort to attract queer audiences without alienating straight/homophobic ones.

Bury Your Gays cannot exist in the context of "character I ship in a queer relationship died." It cannot exist in the context of "other characters of canonical queer status lived." It cannot exist if the story and setting otherwise strongly and repeatedly refute the idea that any experienced queer happiness must be punished. It cannot exist if the character you're talking about has not been confirmed queer.

Because Bury Your Gays is a term for introducing a queer character into an otherwise straight work (usually in a tokenistic way) and then killing them off without ceremony or purpose—often or, depending on the definition, exclusively just after they have started or consummated a relationship, as it is an implication that queer happiness must be punished as a cosmic rule of the setting.

These tropes virtually cannot be present in a work if they are otherwise refuted by the work itself due to the presence of other queer characters. They suggest a rule of the narrative that queerness is anathema to the narrative and world, and cannot be allowed to exist, which cannot apply if the world and narrative is otherwise very supportive of queerness. In fact, the context of these tropes when they were established implied that this was applicable to the only queer person or relationship in a work, because in the context of their inception, it was nearly unfathomable to have even a semi-mainstream media with numerous queer characters and queerness normalized and expected within the setting.

EXTREMELY specific parameters would have to be met to have either of these tropes in particular present in Exandria at this point, and even then, the question of whether or not it would still apply given the conceit of the setting's relationship to queerness and gender as well as the improvisational format of the medium is something that would take whole dissertations to discuss and come to anything approaching a definitive answer.

#cr spoilers #cr discourse #cr meta #do NOT try me on this particular subject i stg #because your options are 'read my very reasonable and organized explanation post' (the 'me being nice' option)#or 'take my 600 page thesis on the matter to the fucking face'#feel like I should make a graph here.#does the character have to be confirmed queer? no for queerbaiting. yes for bury your gays.#does the story need to exclusively handle queerness in a tokenistic way? yes for bury your gays. it's complicated for queerbaiting #(complicated cuz... a character can be confirmed queer and it can still be queerbaiting.#depending on severity of the bait vs actual amount of time/importance of the character on screen)#(i.e. end of supernatural? queerbaiting cuz like. the ratio was absurd. the random gay character cameos in disney films? queerbaiting.)#does it have to be intentional? yes for queerbaiting. not necessarily for bury your gays.#death of the author and all that.#honestly I would personally argue that the nature of the game of dnd makes it impossible to have an instance of bury your gays.#but I'm not writing that essay today cuz it would be wasted on tumblr.#and like. in general. suggest a queer person who enjoys narratives about death and grief is homophobic one more time.#you will get the ream of paper to the face.

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