I think Freminet has some of the most interesting dissonance in his self perception of any Genshin character.
Like, of the Hearthlings we know, he's one of the most emotionally mature and intelligent. Lynette might still have him beat, but after playing her hangout... I dunno. I think they're tied. Lyney is Crumbling, Alrecchino is. Well. Arlecchino. Everyone else is a deeply traumatized child or adult and Freminet seems to pretty regularly be people's emotional support. His character stories talk about getting his vision by saving a bunch of other kids on a dive that went bad. The Selkie event literally had him being a therapist for a grownass woman, citing his past experiences with all the other Hearthlings that have died or killed themselves. And he handled that situation WELL. Yeah, he seems to live in a fantasy, but goddamn he's alive and a lot of people in his position aren't so clearly something is working.
Either his or Lyney's character story talks about the time Freminet had reached out to Lyney to try to ease his burdens, which resulted in Lyney blowing up at him. That probably contributed to Freminet thinking he's not good at it, but I think the reason Lyney reacted so badly was BECAUSE Freminet is actually a good support. He can't allow himself that from the little brother he's supposed to protect.
Freminet seems to both cry and dissociate often, but like... Kiddo you are in fact the only person in this family actually processing your emotions. Lynette dissociates 24/7. Arlecchino. Lyney lies and tells everyone he's fine and would literally rather die than admit otherwise. In comparison, Freminet is doing FANTASTIC
Freminet also gets a lot out of helping people! Like anyone, he needs to feel useful and needed. He seems to be an excellent mentor to the younger Hearthlings and perfectly competent on his own, but when you put him in a room with Lyney and Lynette who baby him and insist that THEY take care of HIM, he withdraws into himself.
Like, Freminet by himself feels like a young man and Freminet with the magician twins feels like a teenager. I have no idea how old he actually is. Logically, he would be OLDER than them! He's been with the House much, much longer and his experience shows. I think it's fascinating that they love him SO MUCH and yet, they just Cannot let him help them. Which is hurting him.
(Lynette is much better about not babying him and that is probably why their relationship is so much better than Freminet and Lyney's. Also why she keeps having to mediate between them. Because Lyney charges off trying to Fix Everything and that just makes Freminet feel useless and he doesn't want to get in the way and- you get the point)
Idk. It's hard to tell what things the previous director said to him vs what Arlecchino has said to him. I'm inclined to think our Arlecchino was the one that said he cries too much, but in a "crying in front of your enemies will get you killed" way and she herself is too fucked up to realize how "you cry too much" could be damaging.
Also I try not to consider gameplay stuff when it comes to story, but Freminet also has some of the most BRUTAL animations. He SMASHES HIS EMOTIONAL SUPPORT METAL PENGUIN INTO HIS ENEMY'S FACE. He doesn't think he's the most amazing fighter, and by Fatui standards he probably isn't, but he is winning fights against most grown men.
Tldr Freminet thinks he cries too much and is a burden and isn't good at helping people when he's actually the most mentally stable Hearthling send tweet
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toji with prompt 5 pretty please
𖦹 ˚ ✩ . ���what they're like with kids.❞
★ synopsis. toji with kids.
★ featuring. toji fushiguro.
★ formatting. headcanons. (from this list.)
★ notes. husband! toji, he's a good dad for once, sfw, so much fluff, megumi and tsumiki are your kids.
꒰౨ৎ — author’s note. i KNOW what my bio says but i'm multifaceted. literally so in love with this deadbeat and i hope it shows. thank u as always for requesting and sorry for the wait !!꒱
★彡 TOJI FUSHIGURO.
The first time Toji ever felt genuine love was when he put that pretty golden band on your finger.
The second was when he looked into Tsumiki’s big, brown eyes for the first time.
Then the third came with a small head of black hair and the name he’d chosen long before he'd known whether his kid would be a boy or a girl: Megumi.
From then on, life was a journey for him.
Growing up, Tsumiki was much calmer than Megumi, who would fuss and cry at every little thing. His papa wouldn't read to him long enough? He'd bawl his eyes out. He couldn't reach the fridge handle because his legs were too stubby? Waterworks. His toy was missing after he'd been the one to misplace it? He'd throw a fit.
Toji would honestly curse himself for even thinking he could fall asleep for more than 20 minutes before his son would toddle into the room, promptly disturbing his dad's nap by pouncing onto his stomach or latching onto his arm.
You, however, found it pretty funny.
"Shit's not anythin' to giggle about," Toji would grumble at you, his beauty sleep interrupted as you laughed, glaring at Megumi as he clambered onto his father's chest, bouncing his bottom up and down and beating on him with his tiny fists.
There have been multiple instances where Megumi's been in a good mood, though. You'll never forget the pictures you took of him napping, holding his big sister's hand in his smaller one as they both rested on top of Toji's large chest, his hands cradling both their heads while he snored.
Toji is so bad at not cursing in front of his kids. It's a horrible habit, but he can't seem to grasp the fact that 4-year-olds aren't supposed to be saying the same unsavory words that roll off his tongue so easily.
"Fuck!" he'd let it slip a few times when he accidentally hurt himself, and in typical kid fashion, they were always around to hear something they shouldn't.
"Fuk?" The fact that Megumi was the very picture of innocence while such a filthy word came tumbling out of his mouth (and paired with a smile!) rattled his father.
"What's 'fuck'?" Tsumiki asked, barely much older than her brother. Toji could only pray you didn't hear that.
"Wh— not so loud! Don't repeat that shi— that stuff. Yer gonna get me in trouble with Mama."
(you indeed did hear and he got his ass beat later)
Calls Megumi and Tsumiki 'rugrats.'
He didn't realize just how little time he'd have for romance with his kids around. Every single time Toji leans in to press his lips on his yours, no matter where you two may be, they come running from around the corner (apparently, they'd been watching for a while), darting between your legs and making fake retching noises as they giggle at the scowl on their dad's face.
Toji's the kind of dad to lose one kid in the store, turn around to ask the other kid where their sibling went, only to find them both gone LMFAO.
Stiffens up when he hears an "I love you," or even when he receives a hug from either one of his children. Hugs take some coaxing from you, but he doesn't dislike them (he'd never admit it, what with his tough guy persona, but Toji's kids make him so soft inside.)
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i had thoughts of a canon-adjacent Zoro (nonbeliever ambitious swordsman) and Death-God!Sanji who keep meeting because of how close to dying Zoro always gets during his fights and oops now it's a messy drabble written in between breaks at work and here ya go.
-
In all his years as the god of Death, Sanji has never seen such a stubborn, strong willed human- he’s honestly half amused every time he's brought to a wounded, bleeding Zoro. He doesn't expect him to survive that giant slash attack from the warlord, nor the myriad of injuries he collects after that- and if he feels a bit of pride every time he escapes him Death, well, no one will know.
It takes him a while to realise that, in those fleeting moments, when he's loitering and waiting around as Zoro approaches the point of no return, Zoro can see him as well. Sanji's a bit mortified at first. All this time, he's just been voicing his thoughts out loud like he always does, who knows what the reckless man overheard! It's pure force of habit, since it’s not like there’s ever someone to hear to him- his family chose this domain for him on purpose after all; they took all the great, bright, good, worshiped domains of life, war, medicine...and left him this one to punish him, break him with eons of witnessing and bearing human grief in solitude.
It's barely morning and Zoro is dripping with blood, resolutely standing against all odds in a beautiful display of absolute devotion and conviction, and Sanji feels like maybe today will be the day he takes him- that this is the end for the stubborn swordsman. He comes closer than he ever has to the man, walks right up to him, readying himself for the weight of another soul's voyage, when Zoro's lidded eyes snap up and meet his own. His fiery gaze doesn’t go straight through him, but actually settles on him. Sees him.
It's unnerving. Sanji shivers at this feeling of being perceived.
Humans usually only see him once they fully passed on, when he’s guiding them, cold hands gripping onto him, begging, crying, frightened or even sometimes full of wrath and fighting to stay by their loved ones.
“It’s you again.” His voice is weak, raspy.
Sanji doesn’t answer.
“Why're you always here for my big battles?” A pause. “You like me or somethin'?”
Confusion. Shock. Embarrassment. “You think I stalk you and show up for you battles!?”
“Sure seems like it.”
Sanji scoffs.
He can’t believe this! He wants to chew the bastard out- who the hell does he think he is? but he bites down on his words, certain that these are the man's final moments. There's no way anyone could survive such wounds- it's a miracle he's even conscious or standing.
He doesn’t want to add insult to injury.
“I’m the god of Death, you idiot.”
Oops.
“I don’t believe in gods.”
The absurdity of that statement when literally in conversation with one doesn’t escape Sanji, but he's not really there to argue.
The green-haired man continues. “So, what, you’re into me or something? Just ask me out like a normal person.”
This cocky asshole...Sanji's heated reply is cut off by Zoro’s nakama arriving on the scene in a panic. Sanji trails after them, hovering, ready for the now unconscious body's heart to stop beating at any moment- but the moment doesn't come.
Under the attention of their talented doctor, Zoro escapes him once again.
Sanji's definitely not relieved.
It's out of curiosity that he stays around a little longer. He returns from time to time to check in on the mysterious man and his recovery, still a bit unbelieving that he managed to survive such grievous, traumatic injuries and intense blood loss. By all means he should've died the instant he made contact with the red, concentrated bubble of pain and stress that Kuma expelled from his captain's body.
His friends weep and berate him when he wakes. The ginger woman who found him screams at him to “stop flirting with death” and Sanji chuckles- she doesn’t know how technically accurate that statement is.
Later, Sanji guiltily looks forward to feeling that tug from Zoro once more, that pull on his power he feels when someone is nearing his domain. He's admittedly curious to learn more about him, this idiot swordsman who can see him, hear him, and yet isn’t at all scared of him. It's so rare for humans to accept him without a hint of fear.
He doesn’t let himself dwell on that tinge of nervousness at the back of his mind- what if the next time is the time he steals him away- from his friends, his dream, his captain? What if this time he doesn’t get back up?
But he does.
And when he lingers in the cold, empty room of Kuragaina castle where the bandaged swordsman is laid to rest, content to stare at his mossy head of hair, Sanji notices something weird. From his bedside seat, he can feel the ghost of body warmth.
He tentatively leans closer, his fingers reach out, expecting to go right through Zoro's arm. They recoil, as if burned by fire, when instead they meet soft flesh.
Huh.
Zoro's eyes blearily crack open, immediately finding his hovering form.
"You're... back."
And Sanji knows something changed, that day, on Thriller Bark. He's been on this earth for a long, long time, and he knows Zoro should be dead. Unequivocally so. And yet he isn't. Whether by the sheer strength of his willpower or his fervent defiance of the gods and the laws of this universe, Zoro is still...present. Alive enough to have warm, red blood flowing through his veins and air filling his lungs. Dead enough to perceive him, touch him, feel him.
__
War brews and Sanji has a lot of work on his hands. After the carnage, he wearily returns to Kuragaina, and Zoro, sullen, heavy with guilt, asks him if it's true. Asks him if the eye of this particular storm, the man known as Ace, is truly dead.
Death has long worn away at Sanji, a constant wave beating at the his endless empathy his father called a weakness, wearing him down with each soul he takes from this world. But he's never become numb to it. He openly, lovingly feels the sorrow with every loss, with each reaping, with every last breath rasped from trembling lips. He embraces it, cherishes it for all of its bittersweet taste.
So he tells Zoro of Marineford. Of the epic battle that occurred there between Whitebeard and the marines. With each somber word he feels just a little lighter- an unfamiliar, happy feeling blooming in his chest at getting to talk to someone after what feels like a forever of solitude.
Time passes, and Sanji visits him more and more, grateful for the rare company. It'd been so long since he last was able to have a decent conversation with someone. Joke around. Banter. Flirt? They grow closer, never really voicing the...whatever it is that passes between them. Zoro eventually returns to his crew, and Sanji avoids approaching him unless he's alone. Wouldn't want people to think he's seeing things.
--
It becomes a dance. A well oiled machine. Zoro cutting down the enemies before him, Sanji right behind him and guiding his fallen foes into the afterlife. Cut after cut, his blades sing in the air, accompanied by the groans and cries of the people Sanji welcomes into his waiting arms.
After a big battle Zoro is laying in the rubble, chest heaving from the effort. Sanji sits with him, solemn. Accepting. Enjoying his company, the only company he can keep.
Zoro still hasn't admitted that gods are real, even when he sees Sanji trail after the path his bloodied swords carve out, hard at work. Even when he sees Sanji's dark, draped silhouette raise into the skies, untethered - that’s just skywalk, he says.
--
Sanji grows fearful. Shaken by the feelings, the attachment he feels for the swordsman, like a tether to this world. It makes him feel more alive than he ever has, yes. But nothing good can ever come of it, and he knows the universe isn't kind enough to give him such happiness without the promise of a subsequent fall, a return to reality soured and made worse by what came before it.
It's a dark, rainy day when Zoro corners him on the Sunny. Sanji hasn't visited him in a couple of days- not much death without opponents around.
They're at the back of the ship, obscured by the mikan trees, and Zoro's hands are bracing him against the wall, locking him in. Sanji knows he could go through the wall, but Zoro's eye has him pinned, frozen where he stands. His arms lay lifelessly by his sides.
The swordsman leans in, cups his chin, and Sanji doesn't think- his eyes flutter shut, he's open and wanting as warm, chapped lips press delicately against his. They don't need words. They know. Can feel it with every tender touch as their bodies work together to deepen the kiss. Sanji loops an arm around Zoro's neck, hand digging into his hair, while the other bunches up the fabric of his kimono to bring him ever closer. He's pressed so tightly against him that he can almost pretend the beating feeling near his chest is his own heart, can almost feel the rushing sound in his ears, the warmth seeping into his skin, up his chest, his neck, cheeks, ears.
Zoro breaks apart for air, and Sanji hears himself mirroring his pants, so enamoured with the swordsman he feels like his breath was stolen away.
"Curls." Zoro's looking at him odd, nearly awestruck, eyes flitting across his face, his body, his hands reach out to take his hands in his, lightly massaging his flesh.
A stern feminine voice rings behind them, snapping their heads to attention.
"Zoro, who the hell is this man you're kissing behind my mikan trees?!"
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#18.1 Rak
Rak let out a huff and sat down next to Agni. Agni peeked over at Rak, who was looking far ahead, as if his past were replaying right before him.
TW: Self harm and suicide…in a way? (Sorry if it gets too dark. I put the TLDR on the tags)
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"I met him back when I was young, about a hundred years ago," Rak started.
Agni was taken aback at how long the gap between their time travel was. He wondered how much his Rak had changed.
"It was getting cold, which meant it was hunting season. I got bored and picked a fight with the toughest and biggest prey I could find."
Agni hummed when Rak paused for a moment too long, "Let me guess. You underestimated it and you lost?"
"The river was slippery!" Rak crossed his arms defensively. "And I didn't lose!"
"Sure," Agni rolled his eyes, one corner of his lips upturned. "How come?"
"I didn't lose, but I didn’t win either." Rak looked away, probably in embarrassment. "Another spear pierced its head before mine. That's when I met him."
From the way Rak's expression turned fiery, Agni had a suspicion that that exact moment had affected Rak more than what he spilled out. It didn't surprise him however, since he knew Rak’s ego.
"He was around for a while, acting like he cared about me." Rak huffed again, more fondly this time, eyes closed and arms still crossed. "He taught me a few fancy tricks with rocks and how to hunt better. He talked a lot about turtle this and turtle that. There were so many, I don't remember. But Black and Blue turtles were the ones he talked about the most, saying something like 'no one else will be more worthy prey than them.'"
Agni felt his chest tighten. To think that their Rak had acknowledged them and even bragged about it…it filled him with a sense of pride and longing.
"I didn't believe him then, since turtles are boring and no way they could do what he said they could." Rak paused and untangled his arms, eyes focusing and turning predatory, "But when he said that these turtles were unlike what we had there, I have been wanting to meet those turtles he told me about and hunt them."
Rak's story was intriguing. But even if it flattered him, Agni was more curious about his Rak's whereabouts. "What happened to him then? Wasn't he…badly injured?"
Rak frowned and went silent. But when he found his voice, it lacked its previous vigor. "He was. It looked fresh and so impossible to walk with, but he did. I asked if it was painful, but he said he didn’t feel a thing."
Third-degree burn. Agni thought to himself. But there was no way it spread evenly. Some areas must've been painful.
"He definitely lied," Rak voiced Agni's thought. "He was just acting to look tough."
The edge of Agni's lips twitched in an attempt to suppress his smile. That's him alright. And of course Rak could figure his own self easily.
"One day he challenged me in an all out duel," Rak's gaze turned dark. "His wounds had weakened him over the months, and it was obvious who would be the winner."
Agni frowned at the implication.
Wordlessly, Rak called out his arms inventory which held a familiar looking spear that shouldn't have been in his possession at this point in time. Agni would recognize that design anywhere, "...Mad shocker."
"He said he wanted to test me, and he gave me this." Rak glared at the spear as if it was responsible for his misfortune. "And later told me that I should be proud, for only a true hunter was allowed to defeat him."
Agni felt his throat going dry, and gulped. "He died, didn't he?"
Rak's eyes sharpened. Whether it was in regret or anger, Agni couldn't tell. "I killed him."
Agni didn't know what to feel about that. On one hand, he could empathize with how much pain Rak must've felt from the injury, especially with the lack of proper treatment that could cure or even just lessen the pain. But on the other hand, it meant that his Rak was truly gone, in such a way, and he still couldn't wrap his head around it.
Rak put his pipe back to invisible mode, like looking at it had brought him so much grief. "I've never used that spear since."
The silence stretched, with only the loud noises coming from the training ground to fill it. Agni wasn't sure how to reply to that without being overly friendly nor physical, and he definitely wouldn't do that to Rak, who only met him today.
Sitting beside Rak like this reminded him of their chat before the workshop battle, on the balcony. It was when Rak truly let him see his buried feelings, his desire to climb the tower together with him and Grace. And with that, the grief finally started to dawn on him. The scar on his face felt itchy and his hand was already clawing at his mask before he registered the motion. He sighed and put his hand back on his knee, pushing the tangled feeling to the back of his mind to be dealt with later. And since the silence had stretched out for too long, he asked; "What was he to you?"
"A rival," Rak looked thoughtful before adding, "and family."
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