#ANYWAY. sorry that is just my thoughts and i thought that was the intention in the show but who knows

[archiveikemen]

"Chaotic Night" Collection Event: Bonus Story

Ring Schwartz

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games.

Read this before interacting

creds. to nagi for sending me the story ♡

Due to the effects of an extract derived from Queen of The Night flowers, the Cursed Ones had a change in appearance.

Amidst all that, someone grabbed my arm and pulled me into an empty room.

…

The moment I entered the room, I frantically looked around to see the identity of that person. He was none other than—

Kate: Ring…? 

The uncertainty in my voice was because he looked different from usual. 

Ring had a pair of animal ears on his head, and a beautiful tail on his bottom. 

On top of that, those eyes that were usually calm and the colour of a water’s surface were dyed red. 

Ring: Um… sorry for dragging you along without explanation. 

Despite the change in eye colour, the intensity of his gaze remained the same. 

Under that gaze, even though I wasn’t guilty of anything, I felt flustered. 

Ring: But in order to protect, there was no other way. 

Kate: To protect…? 

Ring: To protect Nica and Dari, I had to take you away.

(... Ah, it's those two from Vogel.) 

It was embarrassing that for a moment, I thought he meant that he was trying to protect me. 

Ring: It’ll be trouble if something were to happen to you from going near Nica and Dari who are acting weird now. 

Kate: “Something”...? 

Ring: Y-you want me to say it…!? It’s, you know, that sort of erotic thing…! 

(Erotic thing…) 

Kate: Uhh… even if you weren't concerned about that, I would never do such a thing to those two, you know?

Kate: Besides, I’m worried about everyone who had their appearances changed, so I want to head back… 

Ring: S-stuff like being worried… y-you’re always so casually saying such adorable things… 

Ring: It’s just as I thought… even if you don’t have that sort of intention, just being near you is dangerous. 

Ring: Doesn't matter how you think. I can't allow you near them. 

Kate: But if you do this… won’t you be in danger yourself for being closed in the same room as me? 

Ring: That’s not a problem at all. 

Kate: … Why so? 

Ring: Even if I get seduced by you, I don’t know how to—... 

Ring: A-anyway! It just won’t be a problem! 

Kate: W-wha…

Ring: Whatever it is, I won’t allow you to appear before Nica and Dari until this whole situation resolves. 

Ring: You MUST remain where my eyes can see you. Got it? 

While saying that, Ring went to sit in front of the door like he was going to physically block me from leaving the room. 

(Looks like it’ll be hard to talk him out of this.) 

(But I don't want to sit here idling while Ring keeps an eye on me…) 

(What can I do in this situation… oh, right!) 

Kate: Ring. If you don't mind, can I examine you?

Ring: Examine me…? 

Kate: Roger said that there are still many things unknown about the Queen of The Night flower. 

Kate: So I’m thinking that if I examine someone who went through the change, it’ll be helpful for the other Cursed Ones… 

Ring: Helpful for Cursed Ones… in that case, being cooperative temporarily shouldn't be a problem… I think. 

Ring: … Got it. I don’t mind if it’s myself you’re examining. 

Kate: Thank you so much! Can I start with touching the places that changed? 

Ring: These ears and tail? Well, those aren’t any weird parts so it should be fine… 

Kate: Okay then. Pardon me.

I touched the pair of animal ears on Ring’s head. 

Kate: The fur is thin and soft… very much like Ale’s ears. These are dog ears. 

Ring: I- I see… 

Kate: Can you sense it when I touch them? 

Ring: … Yes. 

(So they have sensory functions and aren’t purely ornamental. In that case…) 

I moved closer to Ring’s dog ears and whispered.

Kate: Can you hear me…? 

Ring: Uwagh! D-don’t whisper in my ear all of a sudden…! 

Kate: I-I’m sorry! I thought I’d examine if you could hear through them… 

Ring: N-no, it'd be fine i-if you told me beforehand… I was just a little surprised… 

Ring: Uhh… I could hear your voice through the ears. … You can continue examining. 

Seeing how frightened Ring was, I figured that continuing with the examination would cause him distress. 

In the corner of my eye, I noticed something shaking. 

(... Hm?) 

I took a better look at it and saw that Ring’s tail was wagging vigorously.

(Tail wagging is what a dog does when it’s happy, right?) 

(Could it be… whispering in Ring’s ear made him happy…?) 

Ring: … Robin? 

Ring tilted his head and stared at me as I stood there deep in thought. At the same time, his tail kept on wagging non-stop. 

(Maybe Ring didn’t notice it himself… I’ll give it another try.) 

My initial plan was to do a proper examination, but my curiosity and mischief got the better of me. 

Kate: I whispered into your right ear earlier, so I’ll try it on the left ear this time.

Ring: Y-yeah… sure.

I moved to his other side from behind and gently put my lips close to Ring’s left dog ear. 

Kate: … Ring.

Ring: UWAH…! 

The instant I whispered into it, Ring jumped back in surprise. 

Kate: A-are you okay? 

Ring: My ears aren’t okay… my dog ears… did they melt? 

Kate: Melt…? No, they look the same as before. 

(... Only that his tail is now wagging even harder.)

Ring still didn’t notice his tail wagging faster than one’s eyes could catch. 

It looked exactly like Ale getting a tasty snack. 

Ring: Hearing your voice and feeling your slight breath against my ear… felt like my ear was going to melt off… 

Ring’s face was bright red as he covered the dog ears with his palms. 

(As I thought, the ears are sensitive… although it's for the purpose of examining this strange phenomenon, I ended up doing something naughty.) 

Ring: …

Ring: sigh… you’re sly indeed.

Kate: Huh…? 

Ring: It’s unfair that I’m the only one feeling embarrassed here. 

Ring: … Can I touch your ears too? 

Kate: My ears…? 

I was surprised by the unexpected question, and he gently touched my ears with his fingertips. 

Kate: …! 

Ring: Even your ears… are small and soft… cute… 

Kate: I-I don’t think my ears are cute or anything like that…

Ring: That’s what I’d been thinking until now. … But everything about you is cute. 

He only touched my ears, but Ring was staring so fervently at me… 

I felt loved all over, not just my ears. 

(T-this is embarrassing…) 

It got too awkward and I tried to avert my gaze, but… 

Ring: … What are you looking at apart from me? 

Ring: I’m the sole other person here, so you’ll look only at me. 

Kate: … 

Hearing his plea in that heartrending voice, I could no longer take my eyes off him. 

(Besides… his tail was now wagging really hard.) 

Kate: U-umm… did you really enjoy it that much? 

Ring: … E-e-en-enjoy!? 

Kate: You were wagging your tail so much while touching my ears… I’m not sure if you have a thing for ears or… 

Ring: I-I don’t especially like ears… 

Ring: Or should I say, what was that about my tail—...!? 

Ring finally noticed just how hard his tail was wagging. 

Ring: Ahh, t-that’s not…! It… it’s just shaking on its own…! 

He tightly grabbed the base of the tail in an effort to stop it, but it was fruitless. 

Ring: Ggh…! You ARE dangerous after all! This is my own body, and yet it’s not listening to me…! 

Just then, there was a knock on the door.

Darius’ Voice: Ring, I heard a voice… are you in there? I’m coming in. 

Darius: Here you are, Ring. Miss Fairytale Keeper is here too. 

Ring: Dari, no! Her eyes are dangerous! 

Darius: … What do you mean? 

Ring: If you look into them, you’ll get sucked in and your tail will start wagging— whatever, it’s just dangerous! 

Darius: I don’t feel anything at all. Aren't you the only one getting spellbound by her, Ring? 

Ring: W-what do you mean spellbound…! 

Darius: Either way, you shouldn't be alone with her if she makes you feel uneasy…

Darius: Wouldn’t it be better to stay somewhere everyone can keep an eye on her? 

Ring: T-that’s… 

Darius: … You see, Ring. I’m concerned about you the same way you are about me. 

Darius: That’s because we’re family, isn’t it? 

Ring: … Yeah. 

Darius: Come on, let's go. Nica’s waiting for us. 

Ring, who was led out of the room by Darius, looked at me as though he had something to say… but he left without a word in the end. 

His tail, which had been wagging energetically just a moment ago, was now hanging limply. 

(Like a dog feeling lonely after being separated from its owner…) 

(... No, no, no. If I have to put it that way, wouldn't Ring’s owner be Darius?) 

(Stuff about feeling lonely after being separated from me… it must be a misunderstanding.) 

= Flashback Start =

Darius: Under the effects of the flower, just like on the night of the Queen of The Night flower, our sins are heightened.

Darius: … Ring’s sin is “jealousy”. 

Darius: So even if Ring’s words and actions come off as suggestive today… it’s because unlike ordinary people such as yourself, we’re Cursed Ones. 

Darius: Don’t get the wrong idea, Miss Fairytale Keeper. 

Kate: U-understood…

= Flashback End =

(It was indeed as Darius said. Ring only touched me because of his curse’s sin…) 

(But…) 

On this night when everything was turned into chaos due to the Queen of The Night flower, my feelings aren't influenced by anything because I’m not cursed.

So that means… my heart racing because of Ring’s honest gaze and his hot fingertips touching my ears— were undeniably real, even on this chaotic night. 

[twipsai]

omega and silver fic is up! ill put the full thing under the cut yayyy

~

Days and weeks and months melted together, years going by as his body rusted and decayed, warping itself beyond repair as fewer and fewer people dared to enter the Flame Core, fewer caring to check in on them.

He wasn’t conscious for a large portion of it. How could he be? Why would he be? Any reason to stay present was gone.

So he sat. He waited. For what, he wasn’t sure.

…

And then.

And then one day.

One day, something new. The feeling of something stirring against his chest awoke him from a multi-decade slumber. It took minutes, maybe hours, for all of his systems to come back online. The ones remaining, anyway. Everything hit him like bullets— two lifeforms detected, tactile input detected, loss of ammunition, left shoulder joint disconnected, motor functions offline…

Everything buzzed faintly.

Finally, he could see again.

He shifted his cameras down to see…

“CHILD.”

The kid’s eyes flew open as he stumbled backwards from being curled up against his side. A scream erupted from the child’s body. Analysis showed he was a hedgehog, about six, not matching anyone stored within his database.

Though, there weren’t many people around who did, anymore.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” Omega questioned, voice echoing unpleasantly against the cavern’s walls.

The child didn’t answer, his breathing picking up speed as his hands started to tremble. He fell to his knees, eyes wide and unblinkingly staring at Omega.

“I BELIEVE I MAY HAVE FRIGHTENED YOU. THIS WAS NOT MY INTENTION.”

It looked like the child couldn’t breathe, now, as if he was being strangled by an invisible force. He grasped a hand around his neck while tears rolled down his cheeks.

Somewhere in his data storage, something like a memory surfaced. It was an unfamiliar feeling.

At some point, someone he knew had something like this happen to them.

“INITIATING ‘COMFORT’ PROTOCOL.”

Through old, crackling speakers, a song started to play. Even with the terrible audio crunching, the piano still rang out as soft as ever. Slow notes drawled on. The lifeform behind him shifted. The child took about 3.49 seconds to visually indicate he had heard the music. His ears perked up and his terrified eyes softened. Over the course of six minutes and twenty-three seconds, the child’s heart rate decreased from 110 beats per minute to 100.

The first thing that tiny child squeaked out was, “Can you move?”

Omega responded after a moment to check. “NO.”

The child then slowly stood, inching forward on trembling legs to sit closer to the music. He leaned an ear to Omega’s chest where the sound crackled out from. He was way too warm for a tiny child, and if he wasn’t showing no other symptoms, Omega would have thought he was sick.

As the song steadily reached its conclusion, the child seemed about as relaxed as he was going to get.

“What is this?” he asked.

“GYMNOPEDIE NO. 1.”

The child looked up and squinted his eyes, confused. “I don’t understand.”

“IT’S A VERY OLD SONG FROM AN ESTIMATED 400 YEARS AGO.”

“A song? What’s a song?”

Omega was never very good at explaining the more… human aspects of life. The alive parts.

Others would be better suited to explain this.

He knew many that could’ve.

“A SONG IS TYPICALLY A COLLECTION OF NOTES PLAYED IN SUCCESSION TO CREATE A MELODY. WHY WERE YOU SLEEPING ON ME, CHILD?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I DO NOT CARE. YOU HAVE NOT ANSWERED MY QUESTION.”

The child’s grey quills flared out even more than they already had, and he fidgeted with the bandages around his wrists. “Your body is cold. It’s very warm here. I was just trying to cool off…”

“WHAT IS YOUR NAME?”

“I think it’s Silver.”

“YOU ARE NOT SURE?”

“No.”

“WHY ARE YOU HERE?”

“I’m trying to get to Crisis City.”

That was an unfamiliar location. Omega checked his residual memory, and cross referenced it with previous data he had archived. “THE RUINS OF SOLEANNA.”

“Um. Maybe?”

“THE HEART OF IBLIS. INQUIRY: WHY IS A TINY MEATBAG LIKE YOU MARCHING TO YOUR CERTAIN DEATH?”

Silver sat down in the place where his left arm should have been, under exposed wires sparking threateningly. This close, Omega could see the scabs on his knees, the blood soaking through the messily-wrapped bandages, the cuts littering his arms and legs, his calloused hands and feet— he could see the determination in his eyes as he folded his hands in his lap and furrowed his brows. “I'm going to defeat Iblis.”

If Omega could laugh, he would. “DOES NOT COMPUTE. SILVER THE HEDGEHOG: SMALL, MORTAL, POWERLESS. IBLIS: GIANT, IMMORTAL, POWERFUL. I ASK AGAIN; WHY IS A TINY MEATBAG LIKE YOU MARCHING TO YOUR DEATH?”

“Because I have to! I have powers no one else has, if there's something I can do, then I wanna help!”

“FURTHER DATA NEEDED. WHAT POWERS DO YOU POSSESS, CHILD?”

“Um, someone told me its called psy– psycho— um—”

“PSYCHOKINESIS.”

“Yes! Psychokinesis!”

There was no telling how powerful the child actually was. Omega knew better than to underestimate children at this point, when three had accompanied him on adventure after adventure before the flames had consumed the world.

They were children. Most of his companions were. 

His chest suddenly felt strange. Felt. He tried to run a diagnosis on his power core, only to find that it was still destroyed. Nothing had changed about his state. What made that feeling?

“Excuse me, uh… sir?”

“OMEGA.”

“Huh?”

“THAT IS MY NAME. E-123 OMEGA.”

“Oh. Well, your eyes are glowing.”

Strange. Someone once said that he was very expressive— he thought it was what she called “sarcasm”, but then went on to explain all the little things she noticed about him, and how he reacts to things. It seemed that, even with almost all of his functions offline, he was still finding ways to express himself.

“Omega?”

“WHAT.”

Silver looked up at him shyly. “Can I lean on you again? It’s very hot in here, and you’re very cool…”

“I LACK THE PROPER MOTOR FUNCTION TO STOP YOU.”

“That’s why I asked.”

A memory surfaced. Covered in rust and cobwebs and ash.

A very long time ago, he was carrying someone gently, as gently as he could. This person was tired— he had been through a lot that week. He could barely stand. So he carried him to his room quietly, trying his best not to tear the blankets he used to tuck him in. He must not have done a very good job at being quiet, because he woke up to a degree.

“Omega,” he mumbled, eyes still half-closed. “Don’t… don’t let anyone do anything to you. Even though you’re… you’re a robot… you should get to be your own person…”

He quietly took a step back. 

“YOUR MUMBLING IS INCOHERENT,” Omega replied. “TELL ME TOMORROW; I WILL STILL BE HERE.”

And he turned.

And left.

Silver, for one reason or another, was dragging up memories that he thought had been trapped in old storage. Maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t had a conversation with another person in over a hundred years. Maybe the long stretches of silence had a way of turning one into a poet.

“YES,” Omega finally replied, “YOU MAY LEAN ON ME.”

Silver crawled over his lap, smushing himself in between Omega’s in-tact arm and torso, forehead leaning against his upper arm. If Omega thought the child would listen, he would warn him about getting tetanus from his rusted fingers.

“I have a question now. Is that okay?”

“YES.”

“How old are you?”

“73,784.8 DAYS HAVE PASSED SINCE MY CREATION.”

“Uhhh… that’s a lot…”

Eggman didn’t program conversion to weeks, months, and years into his internal clock. Eventually it would stop counting up when it hit 999,999.999 days. It also meant that he had to mentally convert it himself. “APPROXIMATELY 200 YEARS.”

“Oh.”

…

The child looked up at him with impossibly large eyes.

“Oh! Were you around before Iblis was, Omega?!”

“YES—”

“Can you tell me about it?! Please! I’ve heard stories but— but not from someone who was there! You gotta tell me!”

Much to his dismay, Omega was finding this child amusing. And familiar. “WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE TO KNOW?”

“Um, um…” When he was in thought, Silver fidgeted with his poncho’s hem. “Tell me about the sky!”

“...THE SKY?”

“Yes!”

Omega hadn’t been outside for most of his lifespan— he had spent it in the Flame Core. But he did remember that— “IT WAS GIANT.”

A massive expanse that blanketed the entire earth. A constant in a chaotic life. No matter where you went, the sky followed.

“IT WOULD CHANGE COLOR. MANY COMPARED IT TO A PAINTING.”

The child looked up at him with wonder in his eyes, absorbing every syllable.

“IT WAS THE ONE THING IN LIFE THAT REMAINED.”

Absolute awe was written on Silver’s face. 

Omega could make a well-informed guess of what awaited him outside the cavern if he was ever fixed.

“Can you tell me about the people?”

“YOU ASK MANY QUESTIONS.”

“I haven’t gotten this many answers before.”

They were his companions. Teammates. Friends, though, that was pushing it a little, as one of them would say. After so long to think about it, to put his feelings into words, he came to the conclusion that he must have cared about them. They were almost all gone, now. Almost. But he could remember watching them from afar, completely captivated by how they moved. It was all just play to most of them. They would train against each other, race across continents, get takeout in the middle of a mission… Everything was just another day. They laughed in the face of danger. They stood tall. They cared.

Oh, how they cared.

“I BELIEVE THEY WERE NOT VERY DIFFERENT FROM THE PEOPLE OF THIS TIME.”

“No?”

“NO. THEY WERE ALL JUST PEOPLE. MUNDANE.”

Silver knitted his brows together in thought, then pointed past where Omega’s cameras could reach, behind the two of them. “Was he there?”

But he knew.

He knew.

Knew who he was pointing to.

“YES.”

“What’s his name?”

“SHADOW.”

“Why is he trapped in there?”

While Omega couldn’t see him in his position, he knew exactly how Shadow looked. Arms up and cuffed with giant metal rings, attached to a hexagonal cage that stretched over him in a diamond shape, glowing pink and white. The image was committed to his long-term memory.

Perhaps it was better he couldn’t turn to see.

“HUMANITY THOUGHT HE WAS THE CAUSE OF THE FLAMES OF DISASTER.”

Silver stood and walked behind him. The tingle of apprehensiveness of having his back turned to a sentient being was duller than he remembered. “Was he?”

“NO,” he could say for certain. “NO, HE WASN’T.”

“Then why did they do this to him?”

He could remember his claw gripping Shadow’s neck as he begged and pleaded for mercy. He remembered his body acting without his command as he unfeelingly attacked him. He remembered Shadow going limp on the floor, almost dead. He remembered watching as people crowded around him and quickly put him into stasis.

He remembered standing with him,

for centuries.

Maybe as an apology. Maybe because it was what he was built to do.

He remembered.

“HUMANITY FEARS WHAT THEY DON'T UNDERSTAND, CHILD.”

Quietly, Silver walked back to Omega’s side, leaning on him once again, and a little more curled up in his lap than he was before. “I know,” he said. “I know that.” 

Of course he did. Omega could have guessed that, especially in this world; this world that was dominated by terror. After all, Silver was here, alone, at six years old. Whatever reason he had for that couldn't be a pleasant one.

“YOU REMIND ME OF THE PEOPLE I FOUGHT ALONGSIDE BACK THEN.”

“Before Iblis?”

“YES.”

“I do?”

“YOU ARE MARCHING TO FACE IMPOSSIBLE ODDS. YET YOU REMAIN OPTIMISTIC. YOU STRIVE TO PROTECT A BROKEN WORLD THAT HURT YOU.”

Silver fidgeted with the hem of his poncho. His markings pulsed with light. “Even if the whole world was against me,” he whispered, “I'd still protect it.”

“I SEE. INQUIRY;”

“Mhm?”

“HOW CAN YOU FIGHT WHEN YOU KNOW YOU CAN'T WIN?”

For a long time, Silver stayed quiet.

He spoke slowly. “As long as I don't give up… there's hope.”

How optimistic. How cruel, for a child to say those words with a trembling voice. If Omega could, he'd weep. 

Then, he returned to his excited demeanor. “Hey, you know what? I could probably get Shadow out of there!”

“YOU COULD NOT.”

“I could try! If I could wake your friend up, then maybe—”

“CHILD.”

He stayed quiet.

“I MADE A VOW TO PROTECT THOSE I HELD DEAR.” He flickered some of the lights on his body on and off. “I BROKE THAT VOW ONCE. NOW, I WILL REMAIN HERE, BY HIS SIDE, UNTIL I AM GONE.”

Silver was practically curled up in his lap, forehead rested on his chest. His body temperature had dropped significantly since he had woken up. “Okay, then. Hey, I have another question.”

“ASK IT.”

“Can you make that ‘song’ again?”

How optimistic.

How cruel.

“YES. I CAN.”

The piano hummed through his broken speakers. It made ear-splitting popping noises occasionally, but Silver didn't seem to mind. He shifted so his ear was right above Omega’s internal speaker.

His companions would have liked Silver. It was obvious— maybe even Shadow would have. But they were separated by eons.

Omega only hoped the next time they met, it was for a kinder reason.

‘Hoped’...

Silver must have been rubbing off on him. 

[arcandoria]

DA:V Solavellan Ending Questions & Answers

Translated from ROT13 some of the questions made by fans to Trick Weekes on bluesky. I only translated/added some that I felt relevant but do check Trick's replies on bluesky to see more.

Obviously spoilers warning ahead!

Question: will where Solas and Inky end up in the Fade be strictly regret-themed or will her joining and their love influence it into something a bit less bleak (hence the specific elven phrasing)? rooting for my girl not to be in fade jail

Answer: She's speaking both romantically and literally. It won't be terrible if they're in there together.

-

Question: When Solas tells Lavellan that the place he is going is terrible, where exactly are they going? Back to the regret prison or somewhere else?

Answer: The implication is that he's going back to the prison, and now that he'll be working to try to heal the blight while he's there.

-

Question: Does he want to reunite? Is it a choice he makes himself? Lavellan is open and proactive during conversation, but he almost seems resigned. “There is no fate but our love” does he realise he can say no? Solavellan was hands down the best romance Ive ever seen, it has kept me invested in DA for a decade. I desperately want for her to be happy, but never at his expense. Especially after knowing of exploitation and inability to refuse he had with Mythal.

Answer: My intention was that after almost destroying the world, he does not feel he deserves love until he fixes what he did wrong (just like he couldn't move forward until he fixed the wrongs he did in Mythal's service). That's why the Inquisitor has to reach out to him.

-

Question: Was the nature of that solas/Mythal was more queerplatonic than romantic? And if Solas had to choose between Mythal and Lavellan, with whom might he consider sharing his life or save in the face of great danger ?

Answer: Mythal is Solas's past. Horrible mistakes made with good intentions. Lavellan is the hopeful future Solas doesn't think he deserves until he fixes the world he broke.

-

Question: Does Solas love Lavellan as much as he loves Mythal? I know Mythal is kinda all things to him- leader, oldest friend, maybe lover, and that's hard to overcome. On the other hand, his love for Lavellan seems less all-consuming, but purer. Anyway, love to hear your thoughts!

Answer: Mythal is his past, where he made terrible mistakes. A romanced Lavellan is a bright future he doesn't think he deserves until he fixes all of those past mistakes.

-

Question: Could you please tell us, if it is possible, why it was only Mythal's words that allowed Solas to stop this train of endless regrets from rolling into the abyss? I'm sorry, but it seemed too easy to me after so many centuries. Perhaps I don't understand the core of their relationship.

Answer: That's what he needed to hear. Not because he loved Mythal more, but because she was the reason everything went wrong. She, the past, tells him to let go of all the mistakes of the past. And then the Inquisitor he wanted to be with is there to show him a better future.

[naomijoestar]

hello sweets! I have been reading your works for few weeks now and i must say they are amazing!! (you are so talented🥰) I know your request box is now closed and im sorry for putting more things on your plate.. 😨💕 BUT i hope if you could write some amazing headcanons about:

Bucci gang having a significant other who is/ has been clinging on to them because they have been missing their bucci member. 😭❤️

Maybe he’s/or she’s(trish👀) been busy because of work !! or they have just been too tired to spend some time with their significant other and just instantly going to bed after work. And after few days/or weeks.. later they finally start to show some signs of being neglected.. (for example: not letting them leave the bed for work). 😧💕

ANYWAYS SO SORRY FOR MAKING THIS SO LONG !! feel free to ignore my rambling 😅

Thank you for your time and effort love !! 🙏❤️

have a nice day or night!!

Masterlist here <3

Hello ml! This is such a cute request, now I wanted to admit that while reading your request I didn’t notice that you requested headcanons and wrote this as a scenario instead🥲 I really hope you don’t mind and if you do I will gladly re-write this for you!

Sorry for the late reply and I hope you enjoy this 💞

(Trish Una included!)

Bucci gang with their s/o clinging onto them because they miss them

Pannacotta Fugo

Fugo had been working late nights, diving headfirst into planning and strategy. It wasn’t intentional, but his sharp focus on his tasks left you feeling invisible. At first, you thought you could handle it, but after weeks of stolen moments and fleeting kisses, the weight of his absence became too much.

This morning, as he swung his legs over the bed to get ready, you reached out and grabbed his wrist. “Fugo, stay.”

He turned, startled by the tremor in your voice. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his brows knitting together in concern.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your emotions in check. “I just miss you,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “You’re always gone. Even when you’re here, you’re… not really here.”

Fugo froze, guilt washing over him in an instant. He’d been so absorbed in his responsibilities that he hadn’t realized how much he was neglecting you. He sat back down, pulling your hands into his. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, his voice unusually tender. “I didn’t mean to make you feel like this.”

You looked up at him, tears brimming in your eyes. “I just… I need you right now.”

Without hesitation, Fugo climbed back into bed, wrapping his arms tightly around you. “I’ll stay,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’ve been a fool, but I’ll make it up to you. Today, I’m yours. Completely.”

You let out a soft, relieved sigh, burying your face in his chest. His heartbeat, steady and strong, was a comfort you’d been missing. For the rest of the day, Fugo didn’t touch a single work-related item, devoting every moment to showing you how deeply he cared.

Bruno Bucciarati

Bruno had always been devoted to his work, but lately, it felt like he was consumed by it. Late nights, endless meetings, and responsibilities left him coming home too exhausted to even share a proper conversation with you. He’d kiss your forehead, mumble an apology, and fall asleep almost instantly.

At first, you told yourself it was temporary, that things would calm down eventually. But as the days stretched into weeks, the loneliness began to weigh on you. This morning, when Bruno stirred to get out of bed, you instinctively reached for him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“Stay,” you murmured, your voice soft but firm.

Bruno paused, his movements freezing. “Amore, I have—”

“No,” you interrupted, your face pressed against his back. “You don’t. Not today.”

The quiet in your voice struck a chord in him. He turned to look at you, his dark eyes filled with guilt as he took in the sight of your teary gaze and trembling lip. “You’ve been so busy,” you whispered, your hands clutching his shirt. “I know it’s important, but… I miss you, Bruno. I miss us.”

He exhaled deeply, guilt evident in every line of his face. Without a word, he slid back into bed, pulling you into his arms. “I’m so sorry, tesoro,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I didn’t realize how much I was neglecting you. You’re the most important thing in my life, and I’ve been taking you for granted.”

You nuzzled into his chest, your fingers clutching his shirt like he might disappear again. “Don’t leave today,” you pleaded softly. “Just… stay with me.”

Bruno kissed the crown of your head, his lips lingering there as if to seal a promise. “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered, cradling you close. “Today, I’m yours, completely. I’ll make this right—I swear.”

For the rest of the day, he didn’t even glance at his phone. He was fully present, holding you, listening to you, and reminding you with every kiss and tender word just how much you meant to him.

Giorno Giovanna

Giorno had always carried the weight of responsibility on his shoulders, but lately, it felt like he was drowning in it. Long hours at meetings, late nights poring over plans—it had all left him coming home too exhausted to notice the growing sadness in your eyes. You’d tried to be patient, understanding the importance of his work, but the ache of missing him only grew stronger.

This morning, as he sat on the edge of the bed, buttoning his shirt, you couldn’t hold it in anymore. Reaching out, you wrapped your arms around his waist from behind, resting your head on his back. “Giorno… don’t go today,” you said softly, your voice trembling.

He stilled, his hands falling to his lap. “Amore?” he asked, his tone gentle but confused. “What’s wrong?”

You hesitated, your grip tightening. “I miss you,” you admitted, your voice cracking as tears began to well up. “You’re always working, and I understand, but… I feel like I haven’t had you to myself in weeks.”

Giorno turned to face you, his golden hair catching the soft morning light. His emerald eyes widened as they met yours, glistening with unshed tears. He reached out, cupping your face in his hands. “Oh, my love,” he whispered, his voice full of regret. “I didn’t realize how much I’ve been neglecting you.”

You leaned into his touch, your tears slipping free. “I just… I need you. Even if it’s just for today.”

Giorno’s heart clenched, guilt washing over him. He kissed your forehead tenderly before pulling you into his lap. “You shouldn’t have to ask for my attention,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “I’ve been a fool, but I’ll make it right. I promise.”

He lay back down, holding you close as if letting you go would break him. “I’m yours today,” he murmured, his fingers gently brushing through your hair. “No meetings, no calls. Just us.”

For the rest of the day, Giorno stayed true to his word. He didn’t glance at a single document or answer a single call. Instead, he spent every moment with you—holding you, laughing with you, and reminding you just how deeply he loved you.

Leone Abbacchio

Leone had never been one to sugarcoat things. When work needed to be done, he threw himself into it with everything he had. But lately, it felt like his everything was all going to work, leaving you with scraps of his time and energy. At first, you’d tried to be understanding—it was just his way. But as the days turned into weeks of him coming home too tired to do anything but collapse into bed, the loneliness became harder to ignore.

This morning, as he swung his legs over the side of the bed to get ready, you grabbed his hand. “Don’t go,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Leone stopped, his brow furrowing as he glanced back at you. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice gruff but laced with concern.

You didn’t let go, your grip tightening. “I miss you,” you admitted, looking down at the sheets. “You’ve been so busy, and I feel like… like I don’t have you anymore.”

He sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping. “I’ve been a crap partner, haven’t I?” he muttered, more to himself than to you. He turned fully, taking in the tears brimming in your eyes. It hit him harder than he expected.

“I didn’t mean to make you feel this way,” he said, his voice softer now. “I just… I thought you understood.”

“I do,” you said quickly, your voice trembling. “But understanding doesn’t make it hurt less. I need you, Leone.”

Something in his chest cracked at the way you said his name. Without another word, he climbed back into bed, pulling you against him. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his lips pressing gently to your forehead. “I’ve been too wrapped up in work, but I’ll make it right. I’ll stay.”

You blinked up at him, surprised. “You mean it?”

Leone smirked faintly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I’m not going anywhere today,” he promised. “You’ve been patient with me for too long. It’s my turn to give you what you need.”

For the rest of the day, he stayed true to his word. He held you close, kissed you like he hadn’t in weeks, and spent the day reminding you why he was worth missing in the first place.

Narancia Ghirga

Narancia was always full of energy, constantly running off on missions or getting caught up in one task or another. At first, you found his busy nature endearing, but as the days went by and he barely had time to sit down and talk to you, you started to feel the sting of his absence.

One morning, as he tried to slip out of bed to get ready for another mission, you reached out and grabbed his arm. “Narancia… don’t go,” you said softly, your voice cracking just enough to make him pause.

He turned to look at you, his eyes wide with surprise. “What’s wrong, babe?” he asked, kneeling back on the bed.

You sat up, clutching the sheets tightly. “I miss you,” you admitted, your gaze dropping to your lap. “You’re always running off somewhere, and I feel like I barely see you anymore.”

Narancia blinked, your words hitting him like a punch to the gut. “Oh no! no no,” he said quickly, scooting closer to you. “I didn’t realize you were feeling like this.”

You let out a shaky sigh. “I know your work is important, but… I just need you right now.”

Without hesitation, Narancia threw himself back into bed, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you down with him. “I’m not going anywhere,” he said, his voice firm. “Today, I’m all yours. Whatever you want to do, we’ll do it.”

You couldn’t help but smile at his determination. “Really?”

He grinned, pressing a kiss to your nose. “Really. I’ve been so stupid, haven’t I? I should’ve noticed you were feeling this way. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

For the rest of the day, Narancia didn’t leave your side. Whether it was lying in bed talking, cooking together in the kitchen, or dancing to music in the living room, he made sure you felt loved and cherished with every smile, laugh, and touch. By the end of the day, the ache of missing him was replaced by the warmth of knowing just how much he cared.

Guido Mista

Mista was always easygoing, but lately, his carefree nature had been replaced by exhaustion. Missions, meetings, and late nights had drained him so much that he barely had time for you. He’d stumble into bed, mutter a quick “Good night,” and be out like a light before you could even tell him how much you missed him.

This morning, as he got up to get ready, you decided enough was enough. You grabbed his hand and tugged him back onto the bed. “Guido, no,” you said firmly, wrapping your arms around his waist to keep him in place.

He blinked, caught off guard. “What’s this about, babe?” he asked with a half-laugh, though his voice softened when he saw the pout on your lips.

“You’re always leaving,” you said, your voice trembling slightly. “I know you’re busy, but I barely see you anymore. I miss you, Mista. A lot.”

His playful grin faltered, replaced by a look of guilt. “Ah, damn,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t realize I was making you feel this way.”

You looked up at him, your eyes glossy. “I just… I need you here today. Please.”

Mista’s heart sank. Without another word, he kicked off his shoes and climbed back into bed, pulling you into his arms. “I’m sorry, babe,” he said, resting his chin on top of your head. “You’re right. I’ve been so caught up in everything else that I’ve been ignoring the most important person in my life.”

You buried your face in his chest, your fingers clutching at his shirt. “Just stay with me,” you whispered.

He tilted your chin up, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “I’m not going anywhere,” he promised. “Today’s all about you. I don’t care if the boss himself calls me—I’m staying right here.”

For the rest of the day, Mista made sure to pamper you with all the love and attention you’d been missing. Whether it was cuddling under a blanket, sharing your favorite snacks, or laughing together over silly stories, he reminded you exactly why you’d fallen for him in the first place.

Trish Una

Trish had always been meticulous with her time—balancing her work, appearances, and responsibilities left little room for flexibility. Lately, though, it seemed like every spare second of hers was being devoured by her career. You understood how much she had on her plate, but the ache of her absence had begun to weigh heavily on you.

This morning, as she reached for her planner to prepare for another busy day, you grabbed her wrist gently. “Trish,” you murmured, your voice tinged with vulnerability. “Can you stay today?”

She turned to you, her perfectly lined eyes widening in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“I miss you,” you admitted, lowering your gaze. “You’ve been so busy, and I know it’s important, but I feel like I haven’t had you to myself in ages.”

Her expression softened immediately, her glossy lips parting as guilt flickered across her face. “I… didn’t realize it had been that bad,” she said, sitting back down on the edge of the bed. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

You bit your lip, shrugging slightly. “I didn’t want to make you feel bad. But… I just need you today. Just this once.”

Trish hesitated for only a moment before snapping her planner shut and tossing it onto the bedside table. “You’re right,” she said firmly. “I’ve been too wrapped up in everything else. That stops now.”

“Really?” you asked, looking up at her with wide eyes.

She cupped your face in her hands, her touch soft but certain. “Really,” she said, her voice filled with conviction. “Today is yours. Whatever you want—name it, and it’s yours. I’ll cancel everything.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as she leaned in to press a tender kiss to your forehead. The rest of the day was pure bliss: long cuddles, indulgent meals, and quiet moments where she reminded you, again and again, that no amount of work would ever mean more to her than you did.

I hope you don’t mind me forgetting to make these headcanons, that was totally my fault and if you do mind you can always text me and tell me if you’d like me to make a hc version!

If you enjoyed this make sure to check out my other posts, and if you’d like anything specific written for a jjba character/squad you can request it if my requests are open!

[leclarifies]

i wish you would love me (CS55)

✰ carlos sainz x verstappen!reader ✰

summary → he would do anything to get you to love him, but he can only watch from the sidelines as you fall in love with his teammate.

genre → angst angst angst (im not sorry), self-indulgent, drabble

word count → 1.5k words

author's note → hello! this is my first iteration of breaking your heart with carlos sainz!!!!!! this is also my first time writing him so i'm sorry if things are a lil ooc, i haven't followed him as much as i do with CL16 & MV33.

carlos had always stole glances, whether he liked to admit it or not. some were lingering, but most of them were fast, quick, not wanting to linger long in case someone would catch him staring, he had grown fond of you.

you were the princess of the paddock, that was your title. some might even say that you're the queen of the paddock but you always denied the nickname, it was a silly nickname that your fans had given you and you didn't particularly feel like claiming it.

but carlos knew that you were indeed a princess, maybe the queen of his heart. he knew that with each second passing, he would slowly fall in love with you, maybe he already was. maybe he just didn't want to admit it to himself, much like the glances he stole.

you were the three time world champion's little sister and that meant that automatically by default, carlos was around you a lot. whether it was max's karting days and you attended his races, or him being on the formula one grid and you attending those races.

it didn't matter to carlos.

you were always nice to him, always smiling, always touchy but it didn't matter as you were touchy with everyone and that made carlos want to die on the inside.

why did you have to touch everyone so casually? why did you have to touch him and why did he feel like he was on top of the world when you did?

"carlos?" you soft voice had broken him out of his train of thought, he looks up to see you. your beautiful self standing in front of him, almost gracing him with your presence, "are you okay? you seem out of it."

"yeah, i'm alright. how are you doing, hermosa?" carlos' heart would not stop beating out of his chest, being in close proximity of you made his heart beat that way. you giggle and wave your hands in front of you, almost as if you were rejecting the small compliment that he gave you.

he found it cute, that you would always reject his compliments that way, whether intentional or not.

you scrunched your face up and rolled your eyes playfully, "you always flatter me with your nicknames, carlos," you giggled further and he stood up from where he was leaning against the wall, "i was going to ask you if you were coming to dinner tonight? you know, the ferrari one?"

carlos raised his eyebrow, how would you know about the ferrari dinner?

"yeah, of course. i am a ferrari driver afterall, aren't i?" carlos teased before you smile and laugh, carlos felt like his heart was going to fall out of his chest by how fast it was beating. you were near him and willing to talk to him, even though it was as simple as asking about a stupid dinner.

"yeah, i was wondering whether you'd come or not. charles invited me to the dinner just last night," your eye-smiles shone bright, even when you didn't mean them to. a pang strikes through carlos' chest, what do you mean by charles invited you?

"charles invited you? since when were you close to charles?" carlos asked, his eyebrow raised again as you were shifting feet to feet, carlos could tell that you were nervous by the question he asked, but you decided to come out clean anyway.

"me and charles have been... seeing eachother so i've been getting invited around ferrari events a lot."

maybe that was the day carlos' heart broke.

seeing you around his side of the paddock was nice, the way you smiled, the way you cheered the team on, it was exciting for carlos. he would be able to see you more often now, ever since you published your relationship with charles.

maybe he should've expected it. maybe he didn't notice it.

while he was stealing glances at you, you were stealing glances at his teammate and that stung like a little bitch.

you were always all smiles, always lovely, always polite, always touchy, and somehow he hated it. he hated the way you touched him— hated the way you touched charles.

your arms wrapped around charles' neck, holding him close as the two of you were captured kissing as charles took his win, he came second. always second best. never good enough. never good enough to win you over. never fast enough to see the signs.

he wanted you to come over to him, run up and kiss him the exact way you kissed charles, why did it have to be his teammate out of all people? why the one person that he constantly had to spend time with, whether willingly or unwillingly?

the love he had for his teammate was slowly becoming resent, becoming something he would never feel for his teammate naturally.

it sucked.

"carlos—"

"not now cha," carlos had brushed him off as he packed up his belongings from the garage, all he wanted to do was get home and sit with himself and his feelings.

"but it's important—"

"i said not now," carlos' tone was delivered with finality, which made charles stop in his tracks, not speaking another word. he was scared to, scared that he would piss off carlos more than he was right now.

what hurt the most for carlos was that he had talked about you to him multiple times, his eyes always animated when he talked about you and charles knew, he knew how much you meant to carlos but charles didn't catch on or maybe he didn't care.

"did i do something wrong?" charles asked, he was behind carlos and his shoulder tensed up when charles asked him the stupid question, carlos felt like he wanted to punch something at the moment and right now, preferably the handsome leclerc that stood behind him.

of course he did something wrong, he stole the love of carlos' life and carlos hated him for it. why did he have to do it? why did he have to take away something that made him happy? wasn't him getting kicked out of ferrari enough for charles?

why did everything have to go his way?

"it's nothing, i'm just upset about my performance today, that's all," carlos turned around to look at charles, he was starting to realize that it wasn't charles' fault. charles did nothing wrong.

the universe just hated him.

carlos had to sit in those painful dinners with ferrari, if it wasn't mandatory for him to come, he would've never showed up in the first place. he hated having to sit there and play nice, to sit there and watch you whisper into charles' ear and when he would whisper something back in your ear and then you would giggle, to sit there and to watch the love of his life slip away from his fingers.

he knew that you never held the same type of feelings that he harbored towards you, you would always be nice and polite but that was it, and maybe he took it the wrong way. it didn't matter to him now, all that mattered was you stole his heart and there was no way you were going to give it back.

with the months watching painfully from the sidelines, watching you fall in love with his teammate, you had an announcement to make tonight.

"hello everyone! thank you for coming to tonight's dinner," you had started, you looked beautiful tonight. afterall, you would always be his hermosa in his heart, "i just wanted to announce me and charles' engagement!"

charles stood up alongside with you and smiled, wrapping an arm that carlos wished were his, holding you close with a kiss on your temple.

claps erupted around the table and carlos was the only one not clapping along with the crowd.

if it wasn't possible before, carlos' heart broke for the second time tonight.

if it wasn't bad enough that charles picked carlos to be his bestman, it was the worst when he had to stand there and watch you be led along the aisle, arm hooked with jos verstappen and walking towards charles.

and yet again, he was watching from the sidelines. never the main character in your story, but always a secondary or maybe a step-in.

your smile was so bright, you looked so happy.

he wished you looked at him the same way you looked at charles.

as you finished your vows, tears escaped from carlos' eyes, not because he was happy for his teammate, not because he was happy for you but because he was upset that it wasn't him that you were marrying today. he couldn't bare to stay and watch any further after the vows, choosing to step out of the cathedral that you were getting married to charles at.

carlos was not the same man that he was before he stepped into that cathedral that day, and maybe it was for the worst.

[bunnieswithknives]

How much can you fit under your skin?

For @warning-heckboop's AU :3

[egophiliac]

I was wanting to try doing an art piece in the style of the signature spell poster art pieces you create. But I’m not really the best at coming up with a composition for such a thing.

Do you have a process for how you come up with the compositions for them?

oh, awesome! it is an INCREDIBLY enjoyable style to work in; I hope you have fun with it! :D

I'm not great at putting my thought/art process into words, so my apologies if this doesn't make a lot of sense, but I'll try! my first step is always to do a LOT of thumbnails to figure out both the idea and how I want to show it; not trying to do a real sketch or anything, just little doodles to figure out what exactly I'm trying to portray. (I also call these "garbage passes" because they're not meant to be any good, they're just there to throw things out. aha. ha. ...anyway.) I think it's important during that first stage to really focus on the idea and the layout and not to get too bogged down in the actual drawing yet!

I tend to save my final thumbnails, so I'll use 'em as examples (I posted the ones up through episode 5 here if you're interested!) (and, uhhh, spoilers through episode 5 also in this post, hopefully that won't be an issue!)

the main thing I try to think about in composition is balance -- not necessarily in terms of symmetry, but in where each element is placed and how much space it's taking up. remember, empty space is still space! it's also really important to think about the parts that don't have anything in them, as much as the parts that do!

personally, I like to divide things up roughly by both halves and by thirds -- there's a lot more in-depth info out there on why the "rule of thirds" in particular works well visually, but in short, our brains tend to focus on things that are placed closer to imaginary division lines, instead of in the exact center of an image. so even when I'm doing something that is very centered and symmetrical, I try to keep that in mind and generally aim around those for landmarks like faces/eyes (or...where they would be, anyway) and other focal points.

it's not a formula of "the character's face should be in this division of this grid" or anything, more like "our minds like to focus on these areas, let's think about how to use that", if that makes sense! and of course rules are made to be broken, art is lawless anarchy, and so on. but it can be a good starting place for deciding where you want to put things!

(blue - thirds, red - half)

and against the finished versions, because they do usually end up changing a lot (including the empty space of the border):

(...these actually lined up a lot better than I thought they would. :') it makes me look like I do things way more intentionally than I do.)

other stuff I just try to keep in mind is that our eyes like following arcs and paths, which can be a good way to guide the eye:

and frame and control the focus:

honestly, composition is one of those things I feel like I struggle with a lot, so I'm not sure how much of this is helpful or actually makes sense outside of my head. but hopefully it helps a little! it's all just stuff to think about while drawing and not anything hard-and-fast, so don't, like, stress out about making sure things are lining up exactly on the thirds or anything. again, it's more "our brains think these are the dopest parts of the rectangle" than anything else! take advantage of the cool parts of the rectangle!

NOW GO HAVE FUN DRAWING seriously though, it is always super cool that other people like this idea and style enough to want to do it themselves and for other/their own characters! thank you! ❤️❤️❤️

[dreamsy990]

some more aa wof au stuff for cringetober day 3 (fandom au!!). ive been messing with my apollo for this au for way too long trying to come up with a design i liked so uh!! his design might change in the future if i end up doing more with this au idk.

bonus: young thalassa

[rawliverandgoronspice]

Game designers/visual artists going "yeah we'll minimize the narrative noise" while having literally zero expertise in storytelling/narration <33333

[comikadraws]

Hello. I really like your analysis of the political stuff in naruto, and I just read your latest one in regard to Hashirama's odd neutrality towards 'the curse of hatred™'. But I kind of want to know now: could you say the same about Kishimoto himself? Does he agree with the 'curse' in a simular vein as H.? Or is H. a deliberately flawed character rather than something that the narrative primarily sides with? (because that's the impression I've got but it's been a while, so idk, I didn't really get the nuance of the plot in the way that you explore when I first watched it)

Authorial Intent and the Curse of Hatred

Okay, so I've got like ten other Naruto asks in my inbox but I will prioritize this one real quick because it is actually very central to a lot of my posts. I already went a little bit into this mess when I analyzed the "Curse of Hatred", but I feel like this topic deserves a post of its own.

This particular part of the discussion leaves the confines of Naruto as a fictional universe entirely and instead delves into the realms of authorial intent analysis and criticism.

My TL;DR is Kishimoto very much intended for the "Curse of Hatred" to be real and the narrative sides with Hashirama and Tobirama (and that is problematic). In the longer version, I am particularly focusing on Tobirama as he is the founder of the Uchiha Clan Genetic Theories™.

I also apologize in advance because pointing out Kishimoto's shortsighted writing is something I have gotten harassed over in the past. Hence I believe some theoretic knowledge is needed.

<Analysis under the cut>

Note: As always, blue links are external links or other people's posts. Red links are my own posts that add context to my thought process.

The problem with Kishimoto's intent is that the guy almost never explains the intention of his writing. This is why discussions like "Was Itachi retconned" or "Does Kishimoto hate Sakura" persist to this day. The only thing we are left with is to instead infer the meaning from other sources (such as the manga itself or minor remarks from interviews).

My conclusion is influenced mainly by four things: The social and political context behind Naruto, Kishimoto's usual treatment of sensitive topics, the narrative of the manga itself, and fantasy genre conventions.

But before all that, here's a little info dump.

Death of the Author

In opposition to the idea that the "Curse of Hatred" is real in canon stands the idea that it was just Tobirama's racist propaganda piece - and this is actually a fairly widespread thought. Not necessarily a misconception, however, as it depends on your school of thought when it comes to engaging with fictional text - Extreme intentionalism (full submission to the author's intent), Anti-intentionalism (complete disregard of the author's intent), or anything in between. While extreme intentionalism can probably be considered the "truest to canon" (as opposed to anti-intentionalism, which is more like a subjective interpretation or "headcanon") it is also incredibly limiting to our fandom experience.

Before I continue this, I need people to understand that both approaches are valid. Especially in instances in which the author's intent translates very poorly into our contemporary understanding of the world, as is the case with the "Curse of Hatred". Both authorial intent and the audience's interpretation are vital puzzle pieces when engaging with a piece of media critically.

To clarify, I do not support Kishimoto's writing decisions in this. I am not pushing an anti-Uchiha clan agenda. What I am going for is analyzing Kishimoto's intended canon. As I have already pointed out, it is a canon that is problematic and nobody should be forced to submit to.

With that out of the way, back to the main topic.

Social and Political Context of Naruto

Personally, I believe it is possible that Kishimoto intended to portray themes of prejudice in his story. Mostly in the sense in which people get defined for their worst character traits (as we can see when comparing Tobirama's and Hashirama's characterization of the Uchiha Clan).

I do not believe, however, that he was aiming for racism specifically - and definitely not for scientific racism, let alone eugenic ideologies. And this has a lot to do with Japan's lack of sensitivity when it comes to racism.

For starters, Japan has a very ethnically homogenous society with about 98% of its population being ethnically Japanese and therefore having one of the lowest diversity scores in the world. On top of that, Japan has no national human rights institutions or laws against racial discrimination. The Japanese population is rather unsensitized to themes of racism.

To not turn this into a fallacy of composition, a different user pointed out that Naruto (as a story) was possibly influenced by Japan's reactionary right-wing movement (possibly revealing Kishimoto's own political standing). The movement responded to an increase in anti-Japanese sentiment across Asia. Said sentiment was sparked by a controversy in which Japan omitted its war crimes (which is a well-known pattern in Japanese politics).

At the very least, it is correct that Naruto is very pro-state in its way of protecting the state's reputation by hiding its crimes from the public consciousness. Kishimoto himself demonstrates an incomplete understanding of Japan's war history by unintentionally paralleling WW2 crimes in his story or claiming that the war was the result of mere grudges when, in reality, it was racism and imperialist ideologies.

While this is just my hypothesis, Kishimoto's lack of political and social awareness could easily influence his perception of social injustices, such as racism. Insensitivity, meanwhile, might reduce any motivation to engage with such themes.

Inadequate Realization of Sensitive Storylines

This might actually be less of a hypothesis when we look at Kishimoto's repeated failure to address sensitive topics in his writing with dignity and/or a critical lens. I've also ranted about this in an older post.

We are talking about child soldiers and death matches between children (Chunin Exams), slavery (Hyuga Clan), human experimentation (Orochimaru), human trafficking (Kushina and maybe Mito) genocide (Uchiha Massacre), and the invasion of neutral territory (Amegakure). In all of these cases, crimes are not further acknowledged than a brief admittance of "damage was done" before the plot forgets about them entirely.

It is a larger pattern in which social injustice is primarily introduced to add flavor in the form of "tragic backstories" but not actually to resolve it. We are supposed to condemn those tragedies, to feel sympathetic - but we are not supposed to criticize Konoha as a main perpetrator, enabler, or apologist.

Chunin exams? Never talked about again.

Slavery? Naruto promised to change the Hyuga clan but never mentions it again.

Human experimentation? Orochimaru is welcomed back after his exile.

Human trafficking? The Jinchurikis got Stockholm, so everything's good!

Genocide? Addressing that might tarnish the Uchiha Clan's reputation. So we don't.

Invasion of neutral territory? We never see Amegakure again after Konan's passing.

To me, it doesn't seem like Kishimoto ever truly cared about those social issues.

The Manga's Narrative

The story does not engage critically with itself. And frankly, it also does not demand such critical thinking from its readers either.

In the manga, we are often presented with incorrect or incomplete exposition from unreliable narrators. Obito lies all the time, Madara gets the wrong story from Zetsu, Itachi gets the wrong story from who-knows-where, and Sasuke doesn't know what's going on half the time. The interesting part is how the truth behind those lies is usually uncovered.

Usually, we do not know that any of them are perpetuating a lie until said lie gets corrected by another character. Said character is usually a "source" in the sense that they have personally experienced the (until then) falsified events.

It is very rare that the audience gets to pick up on little clues to realize that a character is lying. One such instance is when Obito directly contradicts Itachi in his rendition of the story. But even then, the conflict between their two renditions gets resolved by a "source" character in the form of Kushina retelling the events from sixteen years ago.

Now, let's compare this to the "Curse of Hatred".

I have already mentioned this in another post (where I analyzed the curse and its contents), but the "Curse of Hatred" is first officially introduced by Obito. He focuses on the Uchiha's war-torn history. Tobirama more or less builds on that, adding his hypothesis about the Uchiha Clan's Sharingan and its effect on the user. Then Hagoromo adds some things about the reincarnation cycle that might play into this. In the end, Zetsu wraps it all up by revealing that he manipulated the Uchiha Clan for centuries.

The problem is that not one of these puzzle pieces contradicts the other. Therefore, no lie gets officially "disproven" in the story itself. Tobirama's Theories are treated as though they were perfectly fine fact that does not require revision.

We can further infer Tobirama's credibility on the matter by judging the present characters' reactions.

Hashirama, as explained in my previous post, tolerates if not accepts Tobirama's ideas. Orochimaru shows himself hostile toward Tobirama but does not take the chance to contradict him. Sasuke, who is an Uchiha and has personal experience with the Sharingan, shows no signs of protest. Skepticism, yes, but it slowly fades away until he seemingly accepts Tobirama's words as truth. He does not even attempt to argue against it.

Add to that that Tobirama is generally presented as a truthful character, described as "rational" and "principled" in the databook. He regularly criticizes or insults other characters without the bat of an eye, seemingly having no problem with tarnishing his own reputation, unconcerned with keeping up false appearances. He is not the type of character to lie.

Yes, Tobirama comes off as a bigot regardless, but that's because he's essentially an asshole and not because he is actually intended to be racist.

Fantasy Fiction Conventions

In fantasy, none of what Tobirama says is actually uncommon. In fact, if anything, his theories concerning the Sharingan resemble popular fantasy tropes.

In Anime, many powers are awakened through trauma. This is called "Traumatic Superpower Awakening". The Sharingan is just one of many offenders, even in the story of Naruto. This reflects Tobirama's idea that the Sharingan is triggered through great emotional pain.

It is also a common trope that characters who gain too much power eventually go insane. This is called the "With Great Power Comes Great Insanity" trope and reflects the Uchihas' to essentially take away psychic damage alongside each newly awakened Sharingan power. Kishimoto just specifically linked that insanity or pain to the Sharingan (which represents the power of the Uchiha).

Yet another trope is the "Personality Powers" trope. This one can be seen in the Uchiha Clan's tendency to feel deep love and hate - at least one of which is essential for the awakening of a Mangekyo Sharingan (and, depending on the circumstances, a regular Sharingan). Hence Tobirama calls it "the eyes that reflect the heart". In other words, the personality facilitates the power.

Last but not least, we've got the fantasy races trope. The author invents a race and then assigns it distinct characteristics (both physiology and behavior-wise).

In its most extreme cases, this can be used to create an "enemy race" (such as orcs, vampires, demons, etc.) for the good guys to fight. It usually removes complexity from the story by dumbing down the enemy to simply just being "born evil".

Now, notice how the Uchiha Clan's Hatred could be considered a reflection of Kishimoto's idea that wars are caused by grudges? Furthermore, Kishimoto makes that comment at a point in time (February 2012) when all three main antagonists of the story are Uchihas (Madara is revived in chapter 559, which was released October 2011), and then releases Tobirama's theory a year later (February 2013).

This one, unlike the other three, is particularly controversial as fantasy races often get conflated with real-life ethnicities. This is not always the intention of the author, however, as they often never intended to portray racial stereotypes. For two particularly popular examples, take a look at Tolkien's "Lord of the Rings" or Itagaki's "Beastars".

On one hand of this debate, you have that fantasy races are unlike human ethnicities and do not necessarily reflect reality, simply because the author decides what is real in canon or not and because fantasy is always a lie from a real-world perspective. Hence the Curse of Hatred, or rather, Tobirama's Theory is canon.

On the other, fiction does not exist in a vacuum and it is impossible not to apply our contemporary understanding of racism and ignore what are otherwise screaming red flags of racist ideology. Hence we recognize Tobirama's explanation as racism and wish to reject the Curse of Hatred as a concept.

But these two ideas can coexist.

The problem is just that Kishimoto likely only accounted for one thing and not the other. His intention translated very poorly into our contemporary understanding of the world, making Tobirama (and therefore, Hashirama as well) the victim of short-sighted writing.

Who cares anyway?

In the beginning, I explained that regardless of what Kishimoto intended for his story, any interpretation is valid. So why should we care about what the author thinks?

In my analyses (which are separate from my headcanons), I will usually take an "Extreme Intentionalism" approach in which I prioritize the author's intent over the reader's interpretation. Not because I am opposed to the idea that the reader's interpretation is relevant to the meaning of a text but because readers' interpretations are unique to the individual. Focusing on such an individual interpretation can easily alienate those who don't share it. Hence I like to focus on something that is more informative, almost objective in nature, such as the author's likely intended canon - which people can then mould into whatever suits their headcanon best.

I have also noticed that, sometimes, anti-intentionalist takes will devolve into full-blown lies (sometimes with the purposeful intention of omitting canon). This lie can then be upheld in an attempt to condemn or rather bully those with intentionalist interpretations. This unwittingly protects the writer (as well as problematic writing conventions) from criticism.

This is why I think even Anti-Intentionalists should inform themselves of an author's intention. This is, more or less, an aspect of media literacy as it allows us to identify biased or manipulative narratives and take purposeful action. In our case, this involves questioning and criticizing Kishimoto as an individual, raising awareness about his writing's shortcomings, and learning from his mistakes.

[recallback-art]

You know that joke, about how dogs can't recognize themselves in the mirror, and see a different dog entirely when it's really been them the whole time?

[heyitsmemel]

hi hello gals and gays. Here is a rare wav from me struggling with the flu. The virus has mainly been in my chest but my entire body is so wrecked I was able to induce super easily. No talking bc I’m literally unable to 😭 Do not listen if you can't stand harsh coughing because it gets a bit rough. If it sounds a bit weird the first half of the recording is from yesterday and the second half is from today, bc the coughing is so much worse in the second half lmao. Ok that's it thankkk you for feeding me so good lately tumblr love u all <3

also personal rant about ableism and intentional contagion in the comments :///

[parkitaco]

maybe i am dumb maybe i’m smarter than everyone but i thought it was common knowledge that mike did not initially intend for the ‘it’s not my fault you don’t like girls’ comment to have gay implications

[themyscirah]

This is how this went right?

Parallax!Hal: I miss being a hero... wish I had my ring back

Kyle: oh well you can have mine then! That way you can have a second chance : )

Parallax!Hal: YES!!! A SECOND CHANCE TO PLAY GOD AND RESHAPE THE WORLD AS I WILL IT MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Kyle, now ringless: .................huh. im gonna be honest here I really didn't see that coming

[deus-ex-mona]

i miss her…

[vt-scribbles]

Something seriously lacking in my art is the ability to tell a story in a single illustration.

I've gotten so used to drawing my characters standing around doing random things that I've never practiced telling a full tale/putting implications into my pieces that require more thinking/looking.

It also comes from a lower amount of details in my works by default [since I like to get pieces done fast], but I'm tired of using that as an excuse.