#I do not mean to offend by my lack of knowledge on the matter and superficial research

[babiebom]

Hey! I’ve been into SDV for a while know and I found your profile and it’s absolutely amazing! Your headcanons are so accurate and your writing is so smooth! I love it all! I saw that you take requests, so could you do headcanons for Stardew Valley Bachelors and Bachelorettes reactions when they find out that the farmer has a prosthetic leg?

(Love your work💗💗)

A/N: thank you for enjoying my work!! I try my best to write everyone in a way that I think is accurate so it feels good when people say that they think it is. Again if anything is offensive or wrong let me know!!!

Tw: some cursing, maybe some mean things/judgement/ableism because let’s face it not everyone is nice, a person without a prosthetic writing about it. let me know if anything else should be tagged!

Bc: at least 5 for each!! Some are shorter than others!

Stardew Masterlist

Sebastian

I feel like Sebastian would try to act normal about it but would be like….

Hmm okay

I don’t think he would react outwardly

He would try to keep things inside

And I don’t think he’s ableist

But he would be like

OMGOMGOMGOMG in his mind

He wouldn’t ask questions either

He’d just act like everything is fine when in reality he’s now panicking like……..

Is he supposed to act different? He doesn’t think so? Is that rude?

Is terrified of losing you and doesn’t want to mess anything up.

When he does ask about it tries to do it in the most non offending way possible.

Because he is curious about it

I don’t think anyone else in the valley has prosthetics

So he does want to know everything

He’s really nosy tbh

But acts all emo and as if he isn’t and that he doesn’t care

If you wanna ever talk about it I think you would have to bring it up first

Sam

OH COOL ya know *insert some random thing*

He wouldn’t be all “omg I didn’t know I’m so sorry” about it

I think he’s similar to Emily in this

In that it doesn’t really change his view of you

Would probably say offensive things though

Like on accident and because his mind is coming up with dumb questions and he has no impulse control when it comes to his mouth

Would ask if you could be like a pirate

Or ask if it means you can skateboard better than him

Would probably give you a kinda offensive nickname

But again hes doesn’t mean to be stupid about it

DOES change his tune if you don’t like it

Would never want to continue doing something that you actively dislike

Does ask every question that is on his mind

I feel like rather than the others he’s much more comfy with you

So doesn’t hesitate to ask about anything he lacks knowledge on

Shane

Depending on where you are in your relationship he has different moods

Like if he hasn’t opened up and is still depressed and an alcoholic he would be VERY pessimistic about it

Would probably get your spirits down

Would also probably say VERY offensive things in his melancholy state

Would say sorry only after you say that he’s being rude about it

If it’s after he gets help no matter if you’re dating or not he’s still like…

Oof

About it

Y’know? But he wouldn’t be an asshole either he’d just be like

Are you okay? About it if it makes sense?

Like it’s not an omg are you okay it’s more of a how are you feeling about it way

Like no matter if you’ve had the prosthetic forever or got it more recently his question is the same

How do you feel about it?

Does really care about your thoughts

I do think with him you’d have more deeper conversations than with anyone else other than maybe Harvey

Alex

While I don’t think he’s very judgmental on purpose

He probably would say some rude things

Or react in a rude way

Maybe thoughtless is the right word?

Like he isn’t going to be mean or anything

But he will say something like “oh like a pirate or something!”

And you’d be like “??????sure I guess….?”

Would want to swing your prosthetic leg around for shits and giggles

Understands that it’s expensive to get proper prosthetics but it’s in the back of his mind

Wouldn’t really treat you any differently unless it’s something that he thinks could hurt you

Even if you can do it alone

He’s like “NONO let me do it!!”

I don’t know what type of person you are but I know that’s either a relief so you only have to do easy things or it’s annoying because you’re perfectly able to do things on your own.

Is always impressed that you can do your farming duties.

Like it’s sorta ableist?

Like he’s a little confused but he has the spirit type of thing

Harvey

His first thought would be

Damn how good is your insurance

Or if you had to pay out of pocket for it

Is a doctor after all

I think he’d be curious in a doctor way

Because again I don’t think anyone else in the valley has a prosthetic (Sadge bc diversity is cool)

So he hasn’t really seen them that often

Would probably be very intrusive if you two are close

Would also back off if you weren’t okay with it

Does however become very….worried? About you

I don’t think worried is the right word

But would remind you to take breaks more often than he would a farmer without one (and even then it’s pretty often)

Like a mother kinda

Is kinda ableist but doesn’t realize because he thinks it’s just his doctor side

Again will stop if you want him to

Would absolutely have some interesting facts about prosthetics

Elliott

Would try to be poetic about it

And it’s either very cringy or cute based on hope you think of him

Would probably try to write a book or story or poem or something about a character with a prosthetic

Does get a lot of things wrong with the facts but tries

Because you are his muse

And his characters reflect you even if he won’t admit is until you’re closer enough

Might change something’s up about it though so it’s not exactly you

Just in case you hate it so he could be like “nononono this character has a DIFFERENT prosthetic hehe”

I do think he’s ableist but again like the others not in a judgemental kind of way just…..uninformed

Will listen if you try to teach him

Will also fight anyone who has anything to say about it

Haley

Depending on where you are in your relationship makes her reaction different

Like before she opens up I think she’d have a mean girl type of reaction

Like she’d make a face and everything and ask rude questions.

Like it would genuinely either make you mad or make you feel bad

She’d be like “WHAT THE HELL??”

And you’d be like “tf???? Are you okay?”

She’s ask VERY personal questions

Partly because she’s curious and partly because she has to make fun of you by being a bitch

But if you’re closer when she finds out she’s just like…

Taken aback and like oof but that’s the extent to it

I think if you’re closer she’d be too scared to ask any questions because while she gives no fucks she likes you

Whether it be in a romantic or platonic way

And she doesn’t want to push you away or anything

So she won’t really comment on it other than being like “oh….okay….”

Will fight anyone who says something about it though

Like even if they’re asking a valid question or something she’s like “ABSOLUTELY NOT”

Emily

Doesn’t react at all other than being like oh cool!

Honestly I don’t think she would think anything different of you, or even think that anything has changed now that she knows

Like you have always been the person that she knows and your limbs being different doesn’t mean anything because why would it?

Does make you cute accessories for it if you allow it though

Makes covers, will bedazzle it, literally whatever you want.

I think out of all of the bachelors and bachelorettes she would be the one to make it the least weird.

Like the others would either ask really insensitive questions or act weird about it

She’s like <3 yeah okay anyways do you wanna see this dance I’ve been practicing?

Like sorry I don’t have many headcanons for her she’s just….normal when it comes to things that other people would deem weird(not to be ableist I hope you know what I mean by this bc people are asses)

Penny

VERY ABLEIST

But again not in a judgy way

She just….

She means well but it’s kinda annoying if you don’t want help

Just like how she shoves George’s wheelchair out of the way at the mailbox to help him

It’s like first you should ASK if someone wants help

And second helping isn’t always what you think it is

Would help you without asking if you want it

Acts like she just is so much stronger or whatever

Is VERY embarrassed after you talk to her about it

Might try to argue back that she was just helping

But ultimately realizes that she was kinda overstepping

Just wants to make things easier for you

Abigail

Would think it’s cool

Asks dumb questions like if it gives you an advantage over anything that others wouldn’t think about

Forgets about it half the time tbh

Like it doesn’t matter to her

And thankfully she has make herself her own person outside of Pierre’s beliefs bc child her would’ve been mean

But she does think it’s cool and like the others has a million different questions

Asks them nonstop

Also like Alex asks if she can use it as a weapon

Sometimes offensive but not often I don’t think

Would probably say some bullshit like you’re part robot or something

Again depending on how you feel she either keeps up this joke with you.

Or lets it die out

Cooler than most about it

Leah

I think she’s one of the ones that doesn’t react

Because she’s lived in the city

I think she has come across a couple people with different kinds of prosthetics

So she isn’t like the others with a million questions or anything

It’s much more normalized for her that she doesn’t really comment or question it

Will ask if she could create one for you out of wood just to see if she can

Also one of the ones that would knock a bitch out for coming at you in a rude way

Would probably have a “yeah and?” Reaction if you wanted her to actually react

Like it doesn’t change anything at all for her.

Maru

Would be stoked

But in a science type of way

Would also wanna see if she could make you a new one

Unlike Leah though Maru would probably be a bit offensive

Mostly because I don’t think she understands social norms or anything

So she would ask things that would be unamusing and uncomfortable for you because she really just….

Doesn’t understand that there’s things that you shouldn’t say or do

Is overwhelmingly positive though

Like tries VERY hard to get you to understand that nothing has changed for her

Is a little annoying about it but just really wants you to know that she likes or loves you no matter what

Would probably have some interesting facts about prosthetics as well

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Words of love

Day 5 prompts: Love

For: @silmarillionepistolary

Rating: General Audiences

Characters: Eönwë, Maglor, Írimë

Theme : A series of letters from one character to another - Eönwë to Ingwion | Maglor to Indilien (OC) | Írimë to Amarië

Themes: Soft | Fluff

Warnings: None

Wordcount: 778 words

Summary: Eönwë writes to Ingwion after the latter sends him a letter on life in Valimar | Maglor writes to Indilien, thanking her for agreeing to him corresponding with her | Írimë writes to Amarië, thanking her for her gifts

A/n: OC name meaning Indilien, wife of Maglor - Indil (Lily) | ien (suf. feminine ending; feminine patronymic).

This is also available on AO3

Letter 1 – Eönwë to Ingwion:

10th day of Y.T. 1231.—

Beloved,

It pleases me to hear that your training with Lord Tulkas goes well and that he sees to your lessons himself. He is a most steadfast and hardy friend, and I am certain that you will not want for comfort while you reside within his halls. Valimar is a most beautiful city, and to be invited to see all that lies behind its walls of white and gold is a rare honor. Prove yourself worthy of this honor, as I am sure you will, and you will discover much of what that fair city has to offer. 

My love, your letter moved me deeply. To read of your deep longing for me, to know I am foremost in your thoughts! I confess that I read it once, and then I read it twice, and then I read it a third time. I treasured every word and committed each and every one of them to heart. I pray you will not think me weak when I admit I feel your absence most keenly. The great halls do not ring with the sound of your sweet laughter, and our chambers feel strangely cold and empty without you in them. The time of flowering and ripening of all things is upon us, and yet I find that Ilmarin is shrouded in the dark and dismal winter of death your leaving has left it in. Forgive me. The pain of our separation is nigh unbearable. I do all that I can to make myself content with the knowledge that when I call on you, this pain will pass. Alas! If only time flowed according to our own wishes! If only there was a way to make that appointed hour of our reunion arrive faster! There is none. Nevertheless, we will see each other again. This is all that truly matters in the end. With this, I will put an end to my letter. Write to me as often as you can, my love, and always keep me in your thoughts.  

Written by the hand of he who longs for you,

Eönwë

Letter 2 - Maglor to Indilien (OC)

30th day of  Y.T. 1284.—

Noble lady,

Allow me to begin by offering my sincerest and most humble gratitude for your granting of my wish to write to you, and I pray that I will not make you weary with my letters. I was told you were most astonished by my appeal and that you consider my request an honor. Pray allow me to correct you on this, my lady, for the one who is honored, is myself. Never have I heard another sing so sweetly or seen anyone more beautiful! There is no word to give justice to how you have captivated me, my lady, and I pray that you will allow me to speak of how you have held me enthralled the next time we meet. Such words will be poor fare, to be sure, but they will, no doubt, speak of the sincerity of my feelings and the depths they contain. I will write no more for a lack of time, but I beseech you to write to me if I have not offended you in any way with my declaration.

Your most faithful servant,

Lord Makalaurë Kanafinwë

Letter 3 - Írimë to Amarië

91st day of  Y.T. 1362.—

Beloved,

Thanks and thanks and thanks again, my dearest, for your gifts. And thanks once more, for your tender words. They are more precious to me than any gift, though I will treasure the works of your hands greatly. Mother helped me find a place for all of them, and we both agreed that the marble carving of the great eagles who dwell in the crags of Ilmarin is the most breathtaking. So magnificent! So lifelike! I would have considered the turning of stone into something so fine nigh impossible had the great sculptor herself, Nerdanel, not proven me wrong on more than one occasion on that score. You are gifted as she, and I consider myself the most fortunate of elves to have one such as you by my side.

I am truly overwhelmed by your expression of love for me. No words could describe the sincerity of my gratitude, my dearest, but please accept these words, humble as they may be, as a token of my thanks. It heartens me to no end to know that I am so loved. And pray accept this gift—a bracelet that I have recently crafted—if it pleases you. With this, I shall bring an end to my letter.

Your beloved,

Írimë

tags @cilil @asianbutnotjapanese

[author-morgan]

Hello! I'm currently reading through your amazing backlog of fics, and you are such a compelling and excellent writer. Fan fiction writers add an air of anachronism to anything historical that generally disrupts the flow and takes the reader out of the story, but I never get that when reading your work. As someone who wants to get into writing AC fan fiction, do you have any tips for maintaining historical accuracy? I tried using the games for details but found their info to be lacking. Thanks!

Thank you, thank you. ❤️🥺🥰❤️🥺🥰

Not to sound like a broken record, but research, research, and more research. I won't sugarcoat it because it takes a lot of time to dig around for good sources about certain historical periods, and more often than naught, I find those in scholarly journals or historical texts themselves. Find historians who specialize in a certain period of history. I like Roel Konijnendijk for Ancient History, and, for example, I’ve read the Histories by Herodotus for my Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey stories, especially the long fics. (Just ask @mrsragnarlodbrok, she knows how crazy I can get when looking into historical stuff for fics, even if it's literally almost a PWP, lol.) 

Watch documentaries and listen to trusted podcasts about history! You'll absorb a surprising amount of information just by listening (I often have some sort of documentary on in the background when I'm working from home—the HistoryHit YouTube and related channels are all great places to start looking, especially for Greek-Roman stuff).   

Even though it is difficult to remove the influences of modern morals, standards, and ethics from my worldview and writing, I try my utmost to be true to what would have been commonplace for the societal views and standards within the respective eras — that means someone living in Saxon England is more than likely going to be a Christian and live by what the Church says until the plot potentially demands otherwise! 

It's also vital to understand the limitations of the knowledge and technology of the time you're writing for. One of the most egregious faux pas I can think of in this respect that I’ve seen repeated (whether it be for historical fiction or fanfiction) comes with wound treatment and care — in a world without proper sanitation and antibiotics, things like gut wounds would almost always be fatal. 

Speaking of wound care, look for old medical books and accounts of battlefield treatments (e.g., the American Civil War era) to know how things would have been treated. Looking into the native vegetation from an area and digging around for any medicinal properties can help you construct your own types of authentic (perhaps not accurate, though) cures. This plays into my next point, don't be afraid to make reasonable extrapolations!

Diction! Language matters. Modern language and slang will distract from the overall authenticity of the story if not done with moderation or intent. Sure, you don’t have to go back to Ye Olde English, but make sure you’re picking words that fit, especially in the dialogue, and that there is consistency. Something that helps me write for the Gilded Age (late 1800s) is reading letters people used to write one another. In general, I feel tossing in a few swears (like fuck) now and then won’t kill the mood so much, but if you can find period-appropriate swears, then even better! This is a case where reading historical documents and texts can help.  

Don’t overlook the small things! The small things can help create a sense of authenticity. This can be something like understanding the fabrics and dyes available during a certain time period and the style of clothing that was common (and how these differed between classes). A commoner in the Viking period wouldn’t have silk pillows or “mounds of silk” on their beds. Are certain foods available during the time period you’re writing for? Potatoes are probably the worst offenders for this. 

One last thing is just watching historical/period films and TV shows. Often, there are common bits of misinformation or tropes you can start to spot once you start researching that don't really fit—once you spot those, don't do it (unless there's a very good reason for it)!

I’m sure I’m just scratching the surface, but these are the key ideas and philosophy that guide me when writing fics for historical (and fantasy based on historical eras — Game of Thrones) times. In the end and given the nature of the fandoms I write for, I personally strive for authenticity over true accuracy.

[meilunye]

ewige Jugend (eternal youth)

♡ Ship: N/A ♡ Characters: Fischl, Bennett, Razor ♡ Genre: light-hearted ♡ Word count: 4,3k

This fic was written for Ex-Animo zine (volume 1: Mondstadt). 🍃 The characters assigned to me through RNG were Fischl, with Bennett and Razor as the side.

I hope you enjoy!

Fischl finds a bizarre handwritten map in her favorite fairytale book. Believing it’s a sign left by an unknown adventurer, she drags Bennett and Razor on a quest to seek the mysterious treasure.

Having grown up in a house cluttered with books, Amy naturally grew to believe her shelves held the response to all mysteries in the universe. It didn’t matter what kind of inquiry churned inside her mind: there would surely be a tome there to provide her with the answer she sought.

It wasn’t until she began to question bigger things (her purpose in the world, the love of her parents, the meaning of friendship) that she saw its limits. A library was ultimately forged by its owner and, as such, it harbored only what they wished for the beholder to know. Nothing about affection or sympathy could possibly be found in her cold house.

At the tender age of twelve, long before she chose an alias to go by, Amy found solace in a greater haven: the library at the Knights of Favonius Headquarters. More than the embodiment of a single person’s will, that place was a huge collection of the world’s living spirit. The shelves were throbbing lungs that spread knowledge to anyone who craved it, with a mere handful of excluded topics.

Fairytales, folk stories, history books, scientific essays, philosophy debates, archaeology papers… Nothing was left unexplored. Before realizing what was going on in her heart, Amy— or, well, Fischl had ditched the cozy armchair in her bedroom to hang out at the public library instead, buried nose-deep into ancient tales that fueled her imagination.

So… what to do when even the almighty Favonius Library failed to bear useful answers?

Hours after her arrival, Fischl had double-checked every nook and cranny of the building, pushing as far as to sneak into the Grand Master’s office to ask for Lisa’s help. Not a single page in the entire archive seemed to mention the mystical place she was searching for.

Sprawled on a bench near the Anemo Archon’s statue, Fischl inspected once more the note in her pockets. There was no mistaking it: the hand-drawn map showed a path to the magical Holy Fountain, where “eternal happiness and youth” lay and “the answer to any inquiry” was within reach.

“It’s so strange that I don’t remember writing this,” she muttered to herself, staring at the faded ink on the yellowed paper. She couldn’t recall seeing the map before, though it was highly unlikely for a stranger to leave something of the sort inside her childhood fairytale book. “Where did I hear about this Holy Fountain before?”

When nobody but Oz was around to hear, it was nice to break out of character and drop the roleplay for a while. A hobby she had willingly chosen and pursued out of passion, but which could prove tiresome at times.

The starry night sparkled above their heads, silence enveloping the whole town. The citizens of Mondstadt were too busy either drinking their hearts out at the tavern or sleeping soundly in their beds to pay heed to a girl’s lonely ramblings.

“Maybe you’ve simply forgotten, mein Fräulein,” Oz pitched in. “Pardon me for my lack of tact, but I strongly disagree with your theory. It’s delusional at best to assume a stranger slid the route to a precious treasure inside a child’s book.”

With an offended snort, Fischl stood up from the bench and headed down the staircase. Her heels clicked against the stone tiles, a pleasant sound she had grown accustomed to. It made her presence impossible to miss. “I beg to differ. It must be a sign of fate.”

“And… why would a sign of fate be hidden in your secret diary? This is what I mean when I suggest you spend far too much time with miss Megistus—”

“Quieten thee, Ozvaldo.” Stopping in her tracks, Fischl snapped back to her usual personality, a rush of comfortable adrenaline immediately coursing through her veins. “It is decided. Seizing this holy manuscript, the Prinzessin der Verurteilung shall set forth on a quest to gather her loyal meinies, and embark on a journey to the depths of the mortal realm…”

Oz wasn’t following her, choosing to watch her prattle from a safe distance instead. It didn’t matter much, anyway. Fischl knew he would always be in her tracks while she traveled, no matter how near or how far. Such was the nature of their blood bond.

“Ah…” he sighed at last. “Don’t forget your parasol this time, mein Fräulein.”

✦🍃✦

In comparison to the majestic peaks of Liyue and the massive trees of the Sumeru rainforest, Mondstadt appeared like a flat land, with perhaps the sole exception of Dragonspine’s frosty summit. The straight cobbled roads, the hills and sweet slopes, the modest plants…

Or, at least, that’s what Fischl had believed all her life. After wasting the best part of her day climbing up rocks to reach her friends, she was starting to reconsider the imagery in her mind. Had Wolvendom always been so steep? Her palms were sprinkled with cuts from the dry branches of the wolfhook bushes scattered about the boulders.

When she finally found them, peacefully napping on top of a tree stump, her first instinct was to choke them for their audacity. Thankfully, her royal blood condemned such lowly acts. She coughed weakly to catch their attention, arms crossed proudly over her chest.

“Fischl!” Bennett was the first to react. He rolled around, almost falling down the log in the process. “What brings you here?”

Ah, her time to shine. Fischl had rehearsed her grandiose speech while fighting for her life on the cliffs of Wolvendom, her brain overworking to find words that would fit her persona. How should a proper princess invite her subordinates on a mission? “I have ventured hither on a pleasant stroll—”

“Mein Fräulein means that she ran here.”

“Oz.” A glare was enough to shut the raven up. Neither of her friends reacted to their banter, used to the daily script of her recital. It was surprising to notice they hadn’t grown tired of her antics yet, despite the passing years. “Ahem. I have ventured hither on a pleasant stroll to seek thy assistance for a crucial mission.”

A sparkle of excitement shone in Bennett’s eyes. “Oh, I smell the adventure! What kind of mission is it, Prinzessin?”

“It is a matter of life and death. A heilige Sendung.”

That was Razor’s cue to wake, shaking sleepiness off his body with a scroll of his shoulders. “Hi… Hilichurl sense dump?” he distorted her words, brow furrowed in confusion. “Is that food?”

“A sacred mission, you brute! We shall follow this divine Führung and…” Fischl slid the handwritten map out of her pocket and held it in front of their faces. “...chart our path towards the Holy Fountain of the Immernachtrealm.”

Ignoring her previous warning, Oz dared to translate her lingo into the commoners’ language yet another time. “Mein Fräulein means that she found this map out of pure chance in her childhood book and believes it was left by a mysterious adventurer.”

“What are we waiting for, then?!” Bennett sprang up on his feet in a cascade of dew drops. “Let’s go!”

Fischl pressed a gloved finger against his lips to bring him to silence. “Halt! You shan’t revel in the company of the Prinzessin der Verturteilung with commoner names. Thou shall be bestowed with fitting titles to match your noble status.”

“Titles?” Bennett tilted his head to the side. “Like, adventurer roles? I’m down!”

Not like he had a choice. As the most experienced roleplayer in town (if not in the entirety of Mondstadt, actually), Fischl was the one who set the rules of the game. Even the scornful astrologist Mona Megistus and the bubbly rocker from Liyue had quickly adapted to her terms and conditions.

“One hereby declares you… Jester of the Immernachtreich,” she announced solemnly, before turning to face Razor. “While thou… One shall address thee as the Guardian Dog of the realm.”

Razor wrinkled his nose. “I am no dog. I am a wolf.”

Fischl couldn’t help but giggle at his utter confusion. It was so entertaining to have people play along with her whims despite not having a full grasp of the situation. “You should feel honored and blessed.”

✦🍃✦

“O’ Jester of the Immernachtreich,” Fischl’s voice cried out from the back of the line, her hands gripping onto the nearby tree trunks to keep her balance. “Could you cease thy frantic chase? This fine expedition calls for thorough enjoyment at a graceful pace…”

Bennett scratched his head. “Erm, Fischl, I—” he cleared his throat emphatically. “I mean… Prinzessin, your Highness, this humble Jester cannot… huh, seem to find the boulder we’re looking for.”

“One can see as much.” She smiled, positively impressed by his fast learning and positive attitude. That was the kind of collaborator she adored the most: those who stayed in character and didn’t question her speech. “The sacred Karte should indeed lead us to a rock covered in ancient carvings, whereby we should find the entrance to a mystic Höhle.”

Bennett shoved a slim tree to the side, and was immediately slapped by the rebound. Yet another bruise to stain his cheeks… And one more bandaid that Fischl would need to apply on him later. “Yeah, but, huh. I see no mystic gizmo anywhere.”

“Höhle.”

“Höhle, yes. My apologies.” He cast an irritated glare at Razor, who had pretty much dumped the talking duty onto him. Since he could barely fathom complex sentences in their native language, that formal nonsense was far beyond his reach. “So, what should we do? We’ve checked every corner of the woods.”

Fischl halted her step in the shade of an oak’s foliage, deep in thought. Playful gusts of breeze spiraled through the branches and bushes, bringing about whispers and noises from distant lands. That must be why the area was named “Whispering Woods”, she figured.

A raven cawed its approval from afar. “Fine,” Fischl seized the message of her wild servant. “Let us return to our temporary palace and plan our following steps until the break of dawn. Darkness shall be our ally in this perilous mission.”

Bennett hopped behind her. “A wise decision, your Highness! Now, let’s—”

His voice bent into a high-pitched scream before growing progressively distant, as if he was falling somewhere. When Fischl turned around, he was gone. Razor’s back was bent over a hole in the ground, his arms stretched out in a vain attempt at pulling him up.

“Bennett!” Razor yelled. “Bennett!”

A muffled response came from below, in the bosom of the earth. “I’m fine! I’ve seen worse!”

Fischl stared at the cavity. Hidden behind a thick layer of leaves, smudged reddish paint had been poured into the carvings of a rock. It seemed that, in the end, their voyage hadn’t been a delusion… Perhaps, someone had seriously left the map there for her enjoyment. But who could be sneaking around her house, sneaking items into her childhood belongings?

“It appears our Jester has paved our way to success,” Fischl said, her heels sinking into the foliage around the entrance. The cave was enveloped in darkness— she might pose as a raven princess, but it was scary indeed. “Let us proceed forth, o’ servants of the Immernachtreich.”

She jumped into the void.

✦🍃✦

The back of Bennett’s head hurt when he came to his senses. A familiar feeling for him, given the number of daily falls he experienced. The wind blew strongly around him, whipping his arms and legs.

When and how did he arrive at Starsnatch Cliff? The last thing he recalled was slipping into a hole in the woods. Had his bad luck finally reached the point of causing space-time paradoxes?

“Why do you stick with me?”

He blinked. Although he hadn’t noticed her presence until now, Fischl was standing in front of him, on the very edge of the cliff. The outfit she donned was different from her usual goth attire: a frilly purple dress that made her look like a genuine princess.

That side of hers was new, and… Bennett could tell something was off. That stranger might have the appearance of his friend, but he was rather sure she was an impostor. “What do you mean? I stay at your side because we’re friends.”

“Lies!” Fischl cried. As if driven by her willpower alone, a fiercer gust of wind rose from beneath the cliff. Electro-infused feathers swirled with the breeze, whipping Bennett’s limbs like knives. “I know what you think deep down. I am a weirdo, an annoying and spoiled brat who can’t do anything but roleplay and bore her friends to death with unintelligible gibberish.”

“That’s not what I think,” Bennett shook his head firmly. “Nobody does. And well, if they do, then it sucks to be them. Because it means they don’t see how amazing you are.”

When Fischl lifted her head again, tears were rolling down her cheeks. “How amazing I am…?”

“Yeah!” Bennett showed her the best of his thumbs up. “You’re cool, fun to be around, and creative. Your mind crafts such complex and vivid scenarios! You’re also a powerful fighter, and you don’t back off from danger… I’m happy we met.”

Fischl was at a loss for words. She closed her eye, a trembling smile curving her lips. The world turned black at once, as if a thick black curtain had covered the sun. Bennett felt something grasp at his throat, choking him—

…Bennett woke up. For real, this time. While his lungs desperately begged for air, his shoulders heaving up and down in frantic breaths, he gazed at his surroundings. He was sitting at the bottom of the cave, with Razor still unconscious at his side.

Was it just a dream? It was oddly realistic. Perhaps, the stranger in his vision wasn’t that different from the Fischl he knew. It might be the embodiment of her inner dark thoughts, the self-destructive opinion she had of herself.

And which, as her buddy and loyal companion, Bennett felt in need to dispel. “Razor, this is no time to sleep!” He shook his friend’s body with his hand. “Wake up!”

“Where…” Razor groaned, regaining his consciousness little by little. “Where princess?”

Oh, true. Fischl wasn’t there with them, even though they were walking together on the surface. Had she fallen somewhere else? Maybe the cave had branchings invisible to the naked eye.

“Let’s go find her.” She couldn’t be too far.

✦🍃✦

The garden of her mansion was even more gorgeous than she remembered. Colorful flowers painted the bushes with their million bright hues, their scent a pleasant aura scattered about. Fischl’s mother loved tending to her plants more than she cared about her daughter and the dreams she trampled over.

The Immernachtreich should have been different. Nothing but purple roses should adorn the royal palace of Princess Fischl, scaring enemies away with their thorns. Ravens and armed knights should defend the ruling lady at the cost of their lives. Everyone in the kingdom was meant to exist with the sole purpose of making Her Majesty happy.

Of course, the reality wasn’t like that. Even though Fischl wasn’t in Mondstadt at the moment, but rather sitting on a cliff that reminded her of the Golden Apple Archipelago… it still didn’t feel like home. Her servants were cold statues, their hearts incapable of bearing emotions. They simply acted according to a script.

“Would this place become the Immernachtreich if I painted you purple?” Fischl mused, twirling a thornless rose in her hands. “Of course not, would it? The realm of the everlasting night only exists within my dreams.”

“Just like your confidence, after all.”

A perfect mirror of her own voice spoke at her back. Fischl recognized the person standing behind her with no need to turn around and meet her stern gaze. It was her fake self, the voice of her conscience calling her out on her lies.

She shrugged. “I thought both you and I knew that much,” she said. The rose’s stem snapped in half, cut by her purple lacquered nail. “We’re aware of how exhausting it is to put up an act from dawn to dusk. How pitiful and annoying we feel beneath our proud and carefree mask.”

“The weirdo who roleplays,” the fake Fischl recited. The grass under her boots withered with each step closer she took. “Have you heard what the old men say? This is what child neglect does to a young girl.”

The harsh judgment stang, like a blade piercing through Fischl’s chest. Was that really what people thought of her? Ah, well. How to blame them? They were right. “What is your aim?” she faced her enemy with a fiery glare. “You won’t get anything from me with some mere insults and accusations.”

“Far be it from me,” the fake laughed, the sound rippling through the silent garden in an uncomfortable wave. “But wouldn’t you be happier if you gave up trying? This palace was shaped after your deepest desires.”

She offered her open palm.

“So, why not ditch all those peasants who don’t understand you and spend eternity here, in your merriest garden?” Her exposed eye glowed an eerie hue of red. “Nobody would consider you a weirdo anymore.”

The first sliver of doubt crossed Fischl’s heart. Wasn’t she right? If she ceased trying to impress others or pretending to be someone she was not, she would finally be at peace. Alone with her raven servants, surrounded by nothing but the loyalty and respect she deserved.

The Immernachtreich had everything she ever dreamed of. Theater plays at any hour of the day, wonderful sights and the sea for miles on end, and neverending dusk framing the gorgeous corners of the kingdom. So, why was it so difficult to let go of Mondstadt?

“I see greatness in your stars,” the voice of Lady Megistus claimed from afar. “Your path may be uncertain and brimming with mistakes and obstacles, but I see the glorious end of the line. You will stand victorious.”

Fischl laughed. “Of course. How foolish of you to probe my fate, when greatness transudes from every inch of my very being.”

“Yyyes.” Mona frowned. “No need to thank me, Fischl.”

The fake’s hand drew closer. It was so tempting, so damn alluring. What was there for Fischl to lose, anyway? Pretending that people’s judgment didn’t hurt her or get to her was growing harder over time.

“I’m so glad we met!” Bennett chirped. “You’re so cool, Prinzessin!”

Fischl pouted. “Stop moving! I’m trying to put bandaids on your face, you fool.”

“Hah, you broke character,” he pointed out with a little wink. “Such an honor to witness it.”

“Come,” the fake beckoned. “Come to me, and find your happiness.”

“I…”

“It was fun!” Razor called out loud. “Princess speaks so long. But she is fun. Razor always laugh.”

Fischl flicked his forehead. “My title is Prinzessin, not princess. It means so much more.”

“Prinz…” he wrinkled his nose. “Prinz… essin.”

The impostor shook her head. “No need to hesitate. Now, come.”

“I’m sorry.” Fischl stood up, newfound courage bursting in her chest. “But I cannot.”

She was loved. It might not always seem like it, but she was surrounded by friends who genuinely cared and accepted her. And it was for their sake that she couldn’t go. Her confidence wasn’t going to falter— it already did once; it already did for countless years.

And well, she had grown past that.

“Fischl!”

Bennett’s voice crushed the spell. He appeared in the vision, passing through the illusory walls of the castle like they weren’t real. The palace trembled and faded, along with the mirage of the fake Fischl.

He hugged her close to his chest. “Fischl!” Bennett called again. “We found you! We were so worried…”

How could she not melt in this warmth? That was her home. That was her merriest garden. No raven servants or frilly dresses were needed. “My apologies, o’ Jester. It appears your majesty was lost in a daydream.”

“About the Immernachtreich?”

Fischl smiled, though neither of her friends could see it. “Something of the sort.”

✦🍃✦

The cave’s interior was quite linear. With the obstacle of regrouping behind their back, the trio managed to make their way through the remaining tunnels and forks effortlessly, their navigation skills honed through many years of adventuring in the unpredictable woods up on Stormbearer’s Mountain.

“We should be close,” Bennett said, taking yet another look at the map. Since they had reunited, Fischl had been uncharacteristically silent, lost too deep in her thoughts to continue his beloved hobby of roleplaying. The role of map-holder had thus fallen onto him. “Your map says the treasure chest is buried in the next space.”

Fischl showed her approval through a happy hum. “How marvelous!” She hopped in the lead, preceding her friends to the fated destination of their journey. “Let the bells of the Immernacthreich sing a song of victory! One hereby declares the whole kingdom shall feast and be merry for the Prinzessin der Verurteilung’s discovery of…”

The cave was empty— definitely not the usual treasure room of a dungeon, sprinkled with golden coins and precious jewelry for the conqueror to claim. The only object in sight was a handmade wooden sign.

“...the Holy Fountain of eternal youth?” Although she completed her speech, Fischl lowered her arms in a disappointed groan, baffled by the finding. That was it? Hours and hours of strenuous marching through the woods for… a child’s prank?

Catching a hint of her misery, Bennett walked to the center of the room to inspect the alleged buried treasure. “Well, someone definitely put this here for a reason. I have a shovel with me, maybe we should dig and see what we find?”

What could they hope to unearth from that shallow place? A few Mora, at best. Perhaps some ragged old journals, or something of equal nature. Surely bearing wisdom and forgotten knowledge, but nothing that would satisfy an adventurer’s spirit.

“This is like burny red girl’s treasure,” Razor broke in, sniffing the air in search of potential traces of Klee’s scent. “She hides bombs in ground. Razor goes and takes them out before lupical gets hurt. Big hassle.”

Fischl raised her eyebrows. Ah, alright, some digging wouldn’t hurt. “O’ Jester— I mean, Charter of the Immernachtreich! Her Highness the Prinzessin orders you to…”

“Yeah,” Bennett understood her message on the fly. “Gotcha. I’ll dig it up.”

The other two kept watch for any intruders or threats while the boy poured his best efforts into the task. Frankly speaking, Fischl wasn’t planning on helping him ex ante, given her poor affinity with manual labor. Plus, it didn’t help that Bennett was a magnet for bad luck: by the time he was done carving a hole in the pavement, the bruises on his body had multiplied tenfold.

“Razor never seen rocks fall on one person many times,” Razor commented.

Bennett glared at him. “Please, be quiet, Razor.”

As cliche as it might be, there was a minuscule chest at the bottom of the pit. Even though it was supposed to be an antique, a relic from the past that would grant them eternal youth, it looked rather fresh. Almost as if someone had buried it there a day prior and smudged some dirt on it to counterfeit its appearance.

“Ahem,” Fischl cleared her throat, determined to see the recital through to the bitter end. It may all have been in vain, but they had fun: what better way for their story to come to an end if not a formal ceremony to check out their loot? “One shall now examine the bounty our sacred coven has exhumed. Hear ye, hear ye, o’ dear dwellers of the Immernachtreich!”

Fischl’s fingers latched onto the casket. After a few taps in the correct spots, the lid came open with a deafening creak, some chunks of wood falling off and onto the floor. The content was bleaker than their (low) expectations: a stuffed animal surrounded by a multitude of colorful paper scraps.

“This is it?” Bennett peeked from behind Fischl’s back. “Is that a stuffed bunny? Hey, look, it has an eyepatch. Reminds me of you, Prinzessin.”

It couldn’t be…

“...Ozvaldo Hrafnavins the First?” Fischl gasped. How not to recognize her first companion as a newborn? Her mother had placed the bunny plush in her crib as soon as she was brought home, though it had to wait six years to get a name. “How can this be?”

Summoned by the homonymy, Oz appeared on her shoulder in a whirlpool of thunder feathers. “That… plush bears my same name, mein Fräulein?!”

But Fischl was far too gone to hear his voice. She grabbed the plush and held it to her chest, her mind racing towards happy memories of the past. Back then, she was lonely and miserable, surrounded by nothing but coldness and a heartbreaking lack of affection. Her books and that stuffed companion were her only escape route.

Lagging behind, Razor wrinkled his nose. “All this for… toy?”

“Nah,” Bennett said, a moved grin curving his lips. It was rare and wonderful to see Fischl so genuinely cheerful, radiating joy from every inch of her body instead of putting up a facade and playing pretend. “I think that’s a real treasure here.”

✦🍃✦

“There is a fountain of youth.” The voice of a young man echoed through the plaza, high up above the citizens’ heads. Busy with their routines, they didn’t notice his presence, a fleeting green spot on top of the Archon’s statue. His gaze, on the other hand, didn’t miss a detail across the whole nation. “It is your mind, your talents, the creativity you bring to your life and to the lives of people you love.”

The wind carried distant sounds to his ears. The happy laughter of three friends in the woods, spiraling through the ancient branches. The tingling in a young girl’s veins that could only be caused by reuniting with her forgotten past, and coming to accept the woman she had grown into. Ah, yes— one of the best feelings for an Archon.

“When you learn to tap this source, you will truly have defeated age.”

[nekasu]

Well, that sure douses his enthusiasm a little, though like before he manages to keep any outward changes to his visage muted. "If there's no negative side effects, how can it even be called a curse?" It almost offends him how casually she throws that word about. For over a thousand years, he's had to live with the knowledge that he can die at any moment and will indeed do so at some point. But to be compared with something that can't even be noticed? It just doesn't sit right with him, but he keeps silent on the matter. No sense losing his temper over such a thing. Kyuushi proved to be an interesting conversation partner, not someone he'd want to accidentally drive away due to a momentary slight.

The ink itself is harmless other than the natural side effects of consuming it, not something he'd advise. It's only once he's inscribed a command that it truly takes effect; each mark of ink is its own primordial sea, capable of being anything he has the imagination to write. Sure, there are limits to what it can achieve, but it's still one of the more flexible abilities he knows.

"I suppose I can see more of what you mean now. Most abilities in this world fall into the former category, yet the one I have reminds you more of this magic world of yours. I have no qualifications to comment on this world as my sole knowledge of it is secondhand from you, but I can only guess that I could use this power of mine to affect my other abilities as well. Not that I lack the capability of altering the ice created from my Vision using my will in the first place, but I'm curious how it would chance my other abstract powers as well." He chooses his words carefully, to not spill any sensitive secrets that he's waiting to tell her. Still, he wouldn't mind a trip to this world if it were ever possible.

"Well-" She starts up almost immediately after he finishes speaking, the same hand she had in front of her moving to the back of her neck above the infinity scarf. "As for the relation, it's a little hard to explain since I only have glimpses of the events in my memory. What I can say is that I too am... 'cursed' in a way, though it's very different from the curse which you suffer. Plus I have very little, if any, negative side effects from what I can tell so far. Again, it's something that might be better delved into whenever we get around to your history."

Pausing, she takes a breath and brings the hand forward again for a dismissive wave. "As for my supposed contradictory words, that's not what I mean. The powers and magic I currently possess are based on direct thoughts. Things that I know, for a fact, can be done. There's no flexibility to them that imagination or will power will bring. They do X thing, and nothing else. I think it, it happens. One plus one equals two."

"In this other Realm, their Magic has fixed things they're meant to do, yes. One spell will create a field of flowers, another will summon a beam of pure energy to destroy what's in front of it, and so on. But the difference is that, while they have those fixed purposes, the individual Caster can modify the actual outcome based on their imagination. That spell for a field of flowers would normally just be any random flowers. But through the Caster's imagination, they can make it anything. Roses, dasies, tulips, sunflowers, etcetera. The offensive beam of energy can be split into dozens, or made into a slithering, flexible form that can change direction in an instant. It's all about the Caster's imaginative mind in that Realm. Where one Caster might use a spell that cuts through things it strikes and only be able to cut through wood, another might be able to cut through steel, because that other Caster can imagine that it does so."

[studiomkm]

Divine Modernity: Hercules

Hercules, son of Zeus and one of the few Greek legends who had sided with humanity during the God Wars, hesitated in front of the simple wooden door. He had wrestled the Nemean lion, battled the Hydra, confronted the Amazons and survived the wrath of Hera herself. Opening an office door should not have felt like another labor and yet as he turned the knob, he felt his legendary courage and strength bleed away.

“Ah, Mister Heracles. Welcome. I was worried you weren’t going to make this appointment.” said the beautiful woman he had come to see.

She had long, brown hair with sublime natural curl, eyes that sparkled with the color of healthy soil behind a thin pair of spectacles and the lightest bit of red lipstick that was the only makeup on her face. The sight of her made him both nervous and soothed all at the same time, though he’d never tell her that. She sat on a plush armchair as she silently gestured to the chaise longue set up against the wall.

“It’s Hercules actually, doctor.” he gently corrected her as he laid back on the offered furniture, “I had it legally changed almost as soon as legal name changes for gods were invented.”

“I see. Well I apologize if I offended and I’ll make sure that all the paperwork is under your correct name from now on.” the therapist said softly as she scribbled something down on her notepad.

Hercules stared up at the ceiling as his therapist performed whatever paperwork she had to deal with before they began the session. His dreams had been growing worse lately and Morpheus was far too imprisoned these days to be able to help him sleep an entire night through. Mortal medicines didn’t work and he hadn’t been able to get drunk since he turned 300. He was desperate to find a little peace outside of a battlefield after all these years.

“Now you wrote that the reason you sought out therapy with me was because of a lack of sleep. Is there a reason you chose therapy specifically to deal with this issue?” she began.

“My lack of sleep is caused by nightmares. I cannot kill the monsters of my mind doctor, even with my strength. I used to seek the aid of the god Morpheus but he’s been imprisoned indefinitely for his actions during the God Wars. I… cannot overcome this myself so I have come to you.” he explained.

“There is no shame or weakness in seeking help when you need it, even for a god.” she told him sternly, “I can and will do everything in my power to aid you, so that you can overcome those things in your mind which hold so much power over you.”

“You speak as though my mind is a battlefield, doctor.”

“In a way, it is. Like you said, you cannot kill the monsters of your mind but that doesn’t mean that you can’t battle them. These kinds of monsters exist in everybody, though they’re very rarely the same kind of monsters. Does that make sense?” she asked.

“The different monsters part but how do you battle something you cannot kill? How can you defeat something that does not die?” Hercules wondered.

“You don’t need to kill an opponent to defeat them, Hercules. Many opponents can be defeated many different ways. Enemies can become allies, opponents can be rendered unconscious and armies can be starved until they vacate an area, can’t they?” Megara pointed out and Hercules had to admit that she was correct, so he nodded.

“Am I to understand that you wish me to starve the enemies of my mind?” he asked her.

“Maybe but first, we need to identify the enemy. If you don’t mind me saying, I’ve actually used the examples of your mythological battles with other patients to help them understand that knowledge is the first key to victory. If the enemy of your mind is like the Hydra, growing back stronger no matter how many times you cut it down, then yes. You need to starve that enemy instead of feeding it your aggression.” she said as she maintained unbroken eye contact.

“I crushed the Hydra with a lot of very large boulders. I did not starve it to death.” he corrected her.

“Not the point.” she said with a very quiet groan.

Hercules couldn’t help but laugh at her frustration, just as he couldn’t help correcting her. So many people had gotten so many details of his life wrong that he simply couldn’t take it anymore. Speaking up had become a reflex.

“My apologies, Doctor. I do get your point though. First, we identify the enemy, then we form a strategy, and finally we defeat the enemy.” he said with a tired smile.

“Yes, that’s very much it.” she acknowledged, “So why don’t we start with something simple? Tell me a little about yourself.”

“Haven’t you ever read Greek Mythology? I’m pretty famous.” Hercules said cheekily.

“I want to hear it from you. Get your personal experience with it and not just what somebody else wrote after the fact.” Megara explained softly.

“Very well,” he agreed with a heavy sigh, “I am technically the product of a sexual assault. My mother was tricked into laying with Zeus when he shape shifted into her husband using divine power. His wife, Hera, was furious that he had once again cheated on her with another woman and did everything in her power to prevent my birth. Thanks to a clever maid, who got turned into a weasel for her trouble, my birth was successful after a very long and agonizing labor. Hera then spent the rest of my mortal life making me miserable and trying to get me killed.”

“I get the sense you aren’t really comfortable talking about your life with me yet.” Megara said as she jotted a few things down on her notepad.

“Which one?” Hercules replied with a scoff.

“Considering you only spoke to me about your mortal life, I can’t really say but please know that this is a safe place to speak your mind.” she told him gently as she regained eye contact with the reluctant god, “Though if I may ask something?”

“Yes, Doctor?”

“I asked you to tell me about yourself. You could have started with anything. Your hobbies, your recent troubles sleeping, your relationships... yet you told me first about the circumstances of your birth. Could you tell me why?” she asked.

Hercules blinked, unable to really answer her. He hadn’t even thought to talk about himself as he was now. He had gone straight to the beginning of a literal eternity of misery and had thought nothing of it. It had been automatic.

“I… I have no idea.” he admittedly slowly.

“Would it be alright if I offered an educated guess as to why I think you did so?” she asked.

“I did come here for aid and insight.” he said with the cocky grin he had become famous for back in ancient Greece.

“Hercules, I feel that you may define yourself by your pain. That while others remember the tales passed down through myth, your memory of those events focus on the pain that surrounded them. Do you feel that I may be wrong?” Megara offered.

Hercules thought slowly and methodically about her words. He recalled every single one of the major events of his life, up to the end of the God Wars and tried to focus on his feelings in every one of them. Megara was correct, but thankfully not entirely. The pain, whether physical or emotional, always crept to the forefront of his mind but it was rarely the only thing there. His heart still shattered whenever he recalled the fate of his first wife and their children but it didn’t completely destroy the joy he had when he first realized he truly loved her or when he had held each of his children for the first time.

“Mister Hercules, are you alright?” Megara asked him back in the present.

His thoughts snapped back and as the modern world came back into focus, he realized that he felt wetness on his cheeks. He wiped his face and realized that he had begun to cry without even realizing it. He took a moment to try and compose himself as he searched for the words he wanted to say.

“I am as alright as I can be, I suppose. I was mulling over your words and realized you are at least partially correct. My pain… is a large part of me. More so than it probably should be, but it is not the only thing inside of me. I can still recall…” he choked up, unable to continue as memories of happiness that had been cruelly ripped away assaulted him.

“It’s okay.” she assured him softly, “there’s no need to try and rush anything. We may only be scheduled for a half hour at a time, but we can have as many sessions as you need until you finally feel like you don’t need me anymore.”

“And if that never comes, Doctor? Am I to be broken forever?” he asked as he wiped away yet more tears.

“You may live forever, Hercules, but that also gives you infinite time to heal. You will not be broken forever unless you choose to be. Especially since you’ve finally decided to confront your problems.” Megara answered confidently.

“So then what precisely is my problem, Doctor?” he wondered.

“What I’m seeing in your body language and what we’ve talked about so far has led me to believe that you might be under the effects of what we call Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Now I can’t guarantee that’s what the issue is but it does fit everything I’ve learned so far. I can help, if you’ll let me.” Megara explained, her voice calm despite the fire in her eyes.

He remembered that fire all too well. He had seen it countless times after all, in each and every single one of her lives. He saw it that first night all those centuries ago where she refused to give herself to him until he treated her with respect. She was a gentle soul with the heart of a warrior, just as she was back when she was his first wife.

He smiled softly as he looked at her, at her determination. He had sought her out and looked after her for every single one of her reincarnations once Shiva had explained the concept to him. He would never again make the mistake of openly loving her but he would never allow her to suffer as she had at his hands again. It warmed his heart that she seemed to regard him much the same way, even if she had no idea who she had once been.

“I think I would like that very much, Doctor.”

[farmergilesofham]

Hey bud, this isn’t meant as an attack, more just a PSA:

If you’re not aromantic and/or asexual you really have no business criticizing QPRs- the concept or the acronym. Idk if you are aro/ace or not, but I assume you can see where I’m coming from.

The acronym exists because writing out or saying “queerplatonic relationship” takes forever, which is like. The purpose of acronyms. It’s really not that deep.

Also, QPR is not some fancy or unnecessary term for “best friend”. It means different things to a lot of different people, but the broad definition is a committed relationship that isn’t romantic. It could be an open relationship as you suggested, but that’s not inherently what a QPR is- that’s polyamory mixed with a QPR, and it’s still not an unnecessary label for “best friend”. Plus, oftentimes the relationship is because of a kind of emotion/attraction/feeling that is best described as platonic, but at an intensity or with some sort of additional feeling that isn’t there towards a friend. There’s also the intentionality of the commitment that sets it apart from “best friend” status.

Ultimately, just please don’t belittle or demean other people’s relationships or feelings just because you don’t get it. It doesn’t serve you or anyone else to have more negativity in the world, and the aro/ace communities get enough of that as it is.

I have no intention whatsoever to insult, belittle or demean anybody's relationship. In no way did I mean that QPR is an unnecessary term for 'best friend', but I do have a grievance against the English language over both terms. My issue is that English lacks words which could be used to simply express deep emotions like those in a QPR, and the use of acronyms (Which themselves are not at fault) to make up the difference also makes them sound, to me, like clinical conditions. I vehemently dislike the way in which medical research dehumanises life experiences just so they can all be neatly stacked into filing cabinets, so in turn I am prone to cordially disliking the voluntary usage of acronyms and abbreviations.

Nonetheless, I apologise if I have offended you or others. I am indeed, to my knowledge, not part of the aro/ace community, and so I am not qualified to tell anyone what terms they should be using for themselves. My rebellion against medicalised terminology is, then, solely my own, and I apologise again if my views on the matter sounded inconsiderate.

[stromuprisahat]

Except you can't really apply such narrow view to such complicated matters.

"Only his goals" were preventing more of his people from dying. It's fascinating, how no one, who isn't Alina and her three point none "friends" matter. I'd say they are those, showing "a lack of consideration for other people".

See: Grisha pogroms that never got dealt with. Any of the "misguided" Grisha on Aleksander's side. Commoners dying on Ravkan borders every day, while Lantsovs comission diamond trees and Nikolai's trying to tire his brother of duty he doesn't need to perform in person.

The Darkling was truly nothing but polite to Alina until she chose to become a deserter- person, who'd be tried and punished, likely executed, were she not ✨THE Super Special Unique Lightbulb✨. And no, it still doesn't earn her a cold cell, dry bread and water.

Same goes for the Blade Boy, were he not the only working leverage the Darkling had on her. I doubt First Army treats deserters kindly- they need to ensure the soldiers will prefer to behave as patriots rather than survivors.

As Kaz points out in later books- having people believe the worst about you saves time and effort. Sure, he said he'll torture Alina, but both she and her manly appendage think Darkles an equivalent of cackling cartoon villain, kicking puppies and singing about ruling the world. It's just playing into their expectations.

And interpreting Baghra as some poor feeble granny, mistreated by her horrible child is one of my "favourite" aspects of this fandom. If she wanted to save anyone, she had plenty of time to do it before Alina appeared. She had plenty of time, when she was bullying teaching her and the Darkling was away doing is actual job. And if she really wanted to be helpful SO much, she could've disclosed her knowledge of merzost, the Fold etc. some time during the second book, when Alina kept coming back to her, begging to be taught and trained to defeat the Darkling.

She wasn't tortured. Merely blinded by the same powers she, herself, possesses. Only remaining blind paints a better picture of The Victim™, never to be questioned or doubted. Not that Alina or any of her friends have the ability to do so in first place...

And upon re-reading examples of uses of said word- it's supposed to mean "impolite" more than "unmindful of your opponents' hurt feelings caused by one's strategic actions". It's a word to use, when you get offended by someone's wording, not when your enemy of choice threatens your walking emotional baggage.

Just saw anti post calling Aleksander "discourteous".

Like... honey... do you know what that word means?

He was nothing but polite (and often even ~kind~) towards people who didn't stand on the opposite side of military conflict. Hell, he was incredibly indulgent towards Alina in middle of a fucking ~siege~.

Would you like him to hold the door open for the people he's about to slaughter or what did you picture, when using that word?

[dormarunt]

Do you think martín is religious? in his talk with sagasta i don't think it's just a figure of speech - he believes they both pretty much go to hell for their sins. and when he offers monica to kill arturo - so that her soul can be saved? (plus for him it doesn't make a difference and andrés is also burning in hell lol). in boom boom ciao he says "i don't say God didn't give you the ability to feel pleasure". and maybe there's more. for me he believes in god, afterlife, heaven/hell etc.

This has got to be one of the most thought-provoking questions I've had lately. I can tell you right off the bat, I am not qualified to answer it. But I am going to try, if only because it's a really interesting question that I've been thinking about on and off throughout the day.

So. We know about Martin Berrote that he's an engineer originally from Argentina who's also gay and out. I am neither from South America nor a Catholic (or generally religious) so I only know a little bit from my - no doubt - superficial research. Given the references that Martin makes to Hell I'd say he's Catholic - but whether he's practicing or not, or a believer or not--

He does mention God in the Boom Boom Ciao speech (thank you for coming up with all these examples! It would have taken me longer to think of them than it took me to find the exact scenes themselves - I'm half-magical at this)

But he mentions his/their conscience when it comes to executing Arturo, and he may refer to it in terms of non-religious morality. Because - again, I'm not a Catholic but a different ~flavor of Christian - I don't see how any religious person could justify executing someone? Even if it's essentially a mercy-killing. Unless I misunderstand things?

Now back to his "trade" - he's an engineer. A man of science. I know quite a few of these IRL and most tend to not be religious. But again, I know some that are, and manage to make room in their beliefs for both faith and science - whatever one manages to find meaning in, is absolutely valid. <3

But-- by his secondary "trade", Martin is a thief. Yet another one of the Ten Commandments that he's breaking (along with "thou shalt not kill", which is implied that he's done before via his dirty conscience or stated that he's got no problems in doing, "thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s goods”, and I'm taking the "coveting of thy neighbor's wife" to mean having sex outside of marriage which I'm pretty sure he's done - though maybe not with "wives").

This all isn't to say that he can't be religious. Many queer people find comfort in their faith, whatever that may be, just as many scientists do. So it's very possible that he is religious or at least he believes in the whole framework of heaven/hell and sinning, but he takes responsibility for all he's doing. Self-aware sinning, accepting the consequences of his actions.

I think maybe he's been raised Cahtolic and, while not particularly religious, he still uses the whole "framework" in his life now. But I may be projecting because I am not a religious person, and I do find myself making references to God and Heaven and Hell and sins and all of that, while I may not necessarily believe in them.

But I do like the idea that he's religious and aware of the path that he's gotten onto! And maybe he took Andres' "one day time will bring us together again" to mean that they'll meet again in Hell. The only place fit for these two assholes. <3

[ayamturd]

bisexual│mcyt hc

warnings: small mentions of hate, fluff

prompt: (requested 1 & 2) “Hello uh I saw one of your posts about the dream smp reacting to you coming out so I was wondering if you haven't already done it can you do dream smp reacting to you coming out as bisexual?” 

“Hello yamturd so I was wondering if maybe you could do tubbo, Tommy and Ranboo reacting to reader coming out as bisexual or lesbian if you haven't already done it :)” 

pairings: irl platonic! dream, ranboo, tommy and tubbo ; c!technoblade

a/n: if i offend or misinterpret anything in this hc, please feel free to message and correct me otherwise. i will always try to correct or delete this post if asked so <33

sending my love to all those who identify as bisexual <33

wc: (1.5k) - m.list

dream - 

considering his prideful personality sometimes, you probably wanted to play with his ego and drop subtle hints

not anything too obvious, but enough to make him kick himself when he realizes

though it was admittedly difficult since he plays into the dnf ship so much that he thinks you’re also joking more than half the time 

imagine you two were in a voice call one evening and randomly discussing the recent fanon and what would be funny to turn into canon (to mess with the fandom)

you’ve been recently shipped with two other content creators, both of opposing female and male gender, separately and together

“Honestly, I wouldn’t mind hitting that.” “Which one?” “Both.”

He’d laugh, but you didn’t.

“Wait, you’re serious? You actually identify as…?” “Bisexual. Yeah, I’m pretty sure anyway.” “Y/n, that’s amazing.”

takes pride in the fact that you trust him, but would feign being upset that you messed with him for as long as you did

be jokingly offended if he found out someone knew before him

“Wait…” “Yes?” “You told Bad??” “Yeah, he was one of the first.” “W— Why??”

It was your turn to laugh while he gawked in disbelief.

“It’s Bad! Of course I told him.” “… Fair enough.”

hate is a given, and he’ll always be there to support and defend you

he’ll always ask your permission before taking any action, however, because he respects you too much and knows you can fight your own battles

dream is someone will show relentless support, whether that be through words or moral support, he’ll always be there for you 

c!technoblade - 

i honestly feel like you never officially came out to techno

as you began to recognize yourself as bisexual, you slowly expressed yourself around him more openly to the point where he unconsciously knew

it’d probably would have hit him in the most random moment after months of assuming he knew

imagine you’re in the midst of battle when techno paused entirely with wide eyes 

“Y/n!” “What!?” “Are you gay??”

you would tease him when discussing your love life in one-sided conversations with him; him basically choosing to ignore you when you talk to him

“Honestly, Techno, how could you not want to hit that?” “Please, just stop.”

(i’ve written this before but will stand by this that) he truly doesn’t care for your sexuality

you’re a friend, someone he trusts and relies on, he doesn’t need to consider who you’re attracted to since he sees you for your skills and friendship

the only, and only time he is mindful of your sexuality depends on others unnecessary comments about it

the smp is a known judgement free land, but there will always be someone with ignorant opinions that he is always quick to shut down (or kill)

nothing much can be said besides the fact that you’ll always be y/n to him: a loyal friend and someone he would fight the world for

ranboo - 

oh sweet ranboo, dear ranboo

considering how openly supportive and kind he naturally is, you didn’t question the idea of telling him

i’d like to imagine that unlike most where you planned or waited to tell, the moment you knew, he would know soon after

imagine you called him before he began his lore stream to hype him up

you both were talking about more mundane things to calm his nerves as people joined when you brought it up

“Oh actually, before you start, I wanted to tell you something.” “Sure, what is it?” “Well, I— I’m Bisexual.” “…You’re tELLING ME THIS WHEN I’M ABOUT TO START MY STREAM??” “Y/n! I’m so happy for you, that’s amazing!”

he’s incredibly patient concerning how you wanted others to know or when you were ready to be completely out

similar to c!techno with the same beliefs you’re still y/n, and nothing has changed besides you coming out as yourself

he’s your go to when days are rough, because he knows how to help you understand you’re still loved as the same y/n and nothing less

“Hey, hey, listen to me. I love you, y/n. We all do, and you’ll never be alone when things get rough, alright?” (love /p)

knows how to silently deal with hate in his chat unless it becomes evident enough to address it (doesn’t want to bring attention to meaningless words until it becomes serious)

ranboo’s your rock and makes show that he’ll never believe anything other than that you deserve love

tommyinnit - 

as someone who took pride in defending the LGBTQ+ community, you had no hesitation when coming out to tommy

if any, your reluctance would come from accepting yourself to the point to be open with other people

it’s not as if he didn’t accept you, he could never imagine doing so in the slightest, but he probably wouldn’t know what to say initially

imagine you both were in the midst of playing bedwars together in a recording for a video

he had been busy gathering emeralds while you remained at the base, and the comforting silence gave you the confidence to blindly address it

“Hey Tommy?” “What, y/n? I’m in the middle of something right now.” “Oh, um, I’m pretty sure I’m bisexual.” “…” “…Tommy?” “…” “T— Tommy?”

it’d be dead quiet for a few seconds before you heard the noise of him rustling in realization

“Wait wait wait, you’re serious? You’re bisexual?” “Haha yeah, yeah, I am.” “WHA—!”

he was happy for you, to say the least

tommy loves to joke, and one he loved to make would be your attraction to both genders

you like women? pog!

you like men? a shame, honestly

if you were publicly out, his favorite bit would be to include you in his obnoxious swooning

imagine he was streaming while talking about his love for women

“Boys, honestly, the ladies just can’t resist me.”

The ding of discord notified you entering the call, the sound of your laughter immediately coming through.

“I agree, Tommy, I definitely agree.” “Y/n! You are attracted to women, and I am also attracted to women. You can agree women are amazing, yes?” “I can, Tommy. Women are indeed amazing.” “Good lad!” “Tommy, you do realize I’m not only attracted to w—” “Shush, we don’t speak of that.”

he showed his support by normalizing your sexuality, his acceptance quick and easily integrated into your lives

(this is getting long but—) tommy was well aware he lacked some knowledge when being in the LGBTQ+ community, but openly voiced his ignorance as a sign of awareness itself

he was always quick to correct either himself or others, he refused to accept slander of any type in his streams

would probably try to keep it light heartedly, but scold nonetheless

tommy was your figurative cheerleader, always there to include and uplift you, whether that be through the smallest gestures or loudest cheers

tubbo - 

poor tubbo

since he wasn’t the most careful with secrets, you probably withheld telling him till you were ready for most to know

this isn’t to deter anything of not trusting him, he’s still supportive and loving tubbo that wouldn’t dare do anything purposeful against you

if anything, you might have forgotten that he didn’t know when you were casually taking about it within a group

imagine you and Ranboo were trying to get him to sleep one early morning but gave up

you started talking about personal stuff and the topic of your love life came up, specifically the attraction to someone of the same gender

“I don’t know, Ranboo, I mean, I think I like them but at the same time I’m not sure.” “That’s fai—” “Wait, y/n. You’re gay??” “Bisexual, actually.” “WaAA—”

his very sleep deprived state was extremely happy and emotional for you

he’s like the little duckling with a knife, like he loves you completely but will try to hurt anyone that offends you

like tommy, he has no personal knowledge when being in the LGBTQ+ community but will solely learn for your sake

whether you’re younger or not, tubbo never fails to remind you that he looks up to you

he gives his all and won’t hesitate to provide in any way he can if needed

“You matter,” he’ll always say, “you’re important and no one else’s opinion matter.”

is proud to be your friend and expresses his platonic love in full, for you’re you and are so brave to be yourself despite all

choosing not to tag my usual taglist just cause its a headcanon with a specific request <33 (huge ty to @basilly​ and @inniterhq​ though for the advice/motivation to finish this)

[blzzrdstryr]

Chrysalis

Yandere!Albedo x gn!reader

Wordcount:2115

CW:Yandere themes

Working for Albedo isn’t that bad - the payment is good, the knowledge he provides is even better - a chance to delve into exclusive alchemical research with a widely acknowledged genius is a far more valuable award than any amount of mora or jewels could ever be. Said prodigy isn’t an awful person to work with either - he’s polite and well mannered, careful not to offend anyone even if his words can be cold and cutting sometimes. Most of the time Albedo is a pleasant company to be around, if one would turn a blind eye to his quirks.

For instance, he has a weird and frankly unnerving habit of staring at you - his teal eyes track your littlest movements as you set up an alchemical apparatus and prepare needed solutions. At first you thought he was overseeing you, checking if you had made any mistake as a fledgling alchemist, yet this hypothesis was quickly disproved when you caught him gazing off working hours. You never voiced your complaints - you wanted to keep your job and study, and maybe he is too socially blind to see how his behavior could be received by others.

Today would also be a great example of an alchemist's lack of tact - he requested you accompany him everywhere for the last few weeks, taking you from the cold heights of Dragonspine to sunny and bustling streets of Mondstadt. You two are sitting in the corner of his laboratory designed for rest and food and share a meal: two portions of his favorite fish, despite being nothing more than the employer and employee or teacher and student.

Albedo doesn’t seem to get or mind what kind of rumours he causes with this seemingly blatant favouritism before you, no he looks as calm as usual as he plunges into the dish with fork and knife.

“[First]”, he says, after the first bite: “Have the aches stopped bothering you?”, a hint of concern and something else. Two or three weeks ago you developed a strange soreness in the different parts of your body - wrists, neck, heart, legs - it would appear suddenly, burning and throbbing and making you gasp, leaving you tired and nauseous afterwards. No one could find the source of the problem, not even Albedo, yet after some time these far from pleasant sensations got subdued, easier to bear and endure.

His hand reaches for your left wrist, thumb caressing the skin, and he pulls it closer to his face, eyes examining the sore spot. You don’t protest, stunned by his sudden action.

“Hm, that’s”, he mumbles, more to himself than you: “that’s good”, he concludes, letting go of your limb.

“What’s good? Did something change?” you inquire, instantly forgetting to take offense at his grabbing.

“You could say that”, Albedo ambiguously says and returns to his fish. You ask the alchemist what he meant, but all you get are even vaguer answers and long silence in the end, as he finishes his meal and nudges you to start your own sunshine sprat.

In the end your questions remain unacknowledged, as Albedo leaves displaying you to accompany him. Surprisingly he heads for the gardens instead of the library, his step light and fast. “Master Albedo” you start, seeing that alchemist is in his creative mood again: “shouldn’t you bring an easel or sketchbook with you?”

“No, [First], I don’t intend to draw, not now. This walk is for me to get some inspiration”, Albedo quickly replies, still walking ahead: “In this time of year the environment changes so rapidly, it provides a mind with a lot of good ideas. You should come with me too, alchemy is a science of change, creation and destruction and nature is better at these three aspects than any of us”. He adds, seemingly sensing the next question you would ask.

He walks near the bushes, teal eyes focused on the blooming fragrant flowers, before he squats, pushing some of the wigs back.

“[First]”, he turns his head in your direction: “you should come and see”. You comply, curious what has caught Albedo’s attention, squatting near him and looking at one of the inner branches usually hidden by others.

It’s an ordinary dark cocoon. You almost turn your head again, before the slightest of movements catches your attention - it’s an insect trying to break out. Chrysalis cracks and deforms as a fledgling butterfly makes way past it’s confines. One second and it stretches its wings, revealing a vibrant blue coloration, the next it leaves it’s former cell entirely, elegantly soaring into the air, it’s azure wings lazily flapping, as it makes its way to the other bush.

“Fascinating”, Albedo breathes out, eyes still on the disappearing figure of the insect: “It transformed to such a great extent”.

You hear a hint of excitement in his voice - he wants to share his thoughts or knowledge then - and nod, prompting him to continue.

“Did you know that a larva needs to literally dissolve itself to reach the next stage of its life? After caterpillar finishes its cocoon, it produces enzymes that turn most of its tissue into a liquid matter and only after that does it rebuilds into an entirely new form”, he turns his gaze back to you, usually cold and thoughtful eyes now warm and dreamy: “Sometimes, I think humans are meant to metamorphose too”.

“How so?” you ask, tilting the head.

“Humans, despite all complexity and intelligence, are still fragile creatures. They’re prone to sickness and ailments and in the end old age ends those who managed to evade death before. Wouldn't it be better if one could go through metamorphosis, be reborn free from pain and hunger and constant threat of passing away? Those humans could live on forever and dedicate themselves to the higher cause without having to worry about dying and suffering".

You raise eyebrows, surprised by the sudden “outburst” - Albedo, despite his partially philosophical nature, has never shared his inner thoughts so freely, not to you at least. He, either out of embarrassment or deep contemplation, shifts his eyes somewhere behind you, and you turn back, following his eyes. He looks at the statue of Barbatos.

Tall and proud, it looks magnificent in the day’s sunlight, golden rays making it glow and shine with the fairness of the marble. Looking at this epitome of unchanging vision, you suddenly get an answer to Albedo’s thoughts and you voice it out the same second:

“Wouldn’t it negate the meaning of life then? Nature breeds diversity - the reason why we have so many flowers is because some kinds aren't adapted to particular conditions and so they change, producing entirely new types of plants. Eternal and undying beings, unconcerned with the earthly matters would have no need to reproduce and pass on its features to the next generation, depriving the world of thousand possible combinations. No new life would be created if the old one could be perfectly sustained".

"That's how you see it", Albedo replies, placing a now empty husk of the cocoon inside your palm - the testament of the nature’s miracle, the testament of one's ability to change: “I’ve witnessed many wonderful sights for today”, he adds, still looking at you, surrounded by flowers and flying butterflies, light breeze playing with your hair and sun illuminating your whole figure with a gentle golden glow.

You part with Albedo shortly after - he closes himself in the lab, before checking up on your sore spots again, quietly mumbling something to himself the whole time. You head for your house and open the alchemical textbook, studying it until late night. That place on the wrist slightly throbs at every movement.

Only when your eyelids fill up with lead and thoughts slow down from the general fatigue you allow yourself to head for the bed, falling asleep the second your head touches the pillow. You see phantasmagorical dreams - of you being a bulging and large larva, spending days simply eating green leaves, until a strange urge overcomes your entire being and you start to build something - a cocoon. Now, surrounded by pitch black darkness you feel a burning sensation - enzymes, enzymes that will dissolve your tissue. Pain quickly escalates and you want to scream and cry, but you can’t - you’re an insect you don’t have vocal glands or tear ducts to do so. Who could have known that butterflies suffer so much?

You writhe and squirm, caged by your liquifying body and hard chrysalis around you and you are in so much agony you want to die.

And then you wake up. All sweaty and distressed you grab at your wrist - it hurts so much, your entire body is on fire, it seems that you have another episode of that strange soreness. You quickly rise to your feet, snatching the painkillers from the nightstand and downing them with a gulp of water. As medicine begins it’s work you lay in the bed again, ready to fall asleep and forget the midnight pains, as you see something that makes your breath hitch and heartbeat fasten from fear.

A strange greyish white discoloration on your wrist in the same place that used to throb this evening. You touch it and it leaves a dry white imprint on your fingers, it also doesn’t have any strange smell.

You rise and quickly dress up, barely suppressed panic and anxiety dispelling the last remains of sleep. The walk towards the Favonius HQ’s is short, especially when you break into a sprint on the way. He is here, he is working into the night today. Quickly passing sleepy knights you climb on the second floor and almost run to one particular door, loudly knocking at it.

Just as you expected, there’s a sound of footsteps and soon a familiar voice asks: “Who is here?”.

“It’s me, master Albedo”, you say, feeling how the pain returns despite the painkillers taken: “you said to report if something changes, with my aches. It changed”.

The words you say and desperation accompanying them prompts alchemist to open the door, as he gestures you to come in, and shut the door as you do so:

“Strip”, he says, mind back to the analytical mode, you comply, feeling ashamed with every second Albedo continues to observe you: “Wait, there’s something on your neck”.

A cool touch to your skin, a short yelp, another burst of pain. You fall on your knees, blinded and deafened by sheer agony. Alchemist produces a distressed noise, walking up to your collapsed figure and carrying you to the nearby table.

He pushes alchemical apparatus away, turning the table into a makeshift bed, and gently lowers you down. “[First]”, his hand card through your hair, while the other nudges a mug with some brew to your lips: “There’s nothing to worry about, your metamorphosis progresses as it should be”.

“Metamorphosis.. What are you talking about?”, you ask, panic creeping into the question. Alchemist looks you straight into the eyes, an eerie smile blooming on his face as he hears it: "Isn’t it obvious? You're going to change and I will help you with that".

“Change?! Change into what?”

“Into a better version of human of course. Do you think I would let you get old or sick and die? You’re too dear to me to do that, you should live and experience a life free from human limitations”, for the first time in your life you’re terrified of him. Albedo always seemed so knowledgeable and calm to you, like a wise wizard from the childhood fairytales, yet now he looks mad and devoid of any humanity:“You shouldn’t worry about these stains, they will disappear once your transformation is complete. Those are just chalk you see, a side effect of your tissues changing over the weeks”.

“When did.. When did you start it?”, you croak out, sensing the agony returning and growing again. It hurts so much I can barely think.

“Dragonspine. You were eating with me”.

You want to insult and accuse him, yet another wave of pain renders you speechless, short huffs and whimpers escaping you as tears start to stream down your face.

“I understand it can be very stressful to you, given how change of this scale is always carrying a great risk”, his voice adopts the same philosophical tone: “The purpose of cocoon is protection of the soon-to-be butterfly from the external harm and influence that could lead to other complications and we don’t want any of that”.

He cards his hand through your hair again, a mockery of a concern dyeing his next words: “You shouldn’t worry, I will be a good chrysalis to your metamorphosis”.

You black out from pain.

[khorneschosen]

@generallemarc adding you because you brought it up and thank you for that because it helped me to see something I hadn't seen originally.

I want to point out that for a long time to see the ferengi and the "they live" aliens were seen as anti semitic. To jokingly say "space jews" in either case would get you called the usual accusations.

However in the case of goblins from harry potter they say these are anti semitic tropes, and go further with this claim with orcs from dnd.

Now if you consider the sources of each of these an interesting trend develops.

Goblins from hp are based very loosely on european folklore and tolkien. Orcs in dnd are based on tolkien but with a focus on religion over simple brutality.

But it is not brought up tar trek, and john Carpenter's work brought into question and is brought up with harry potter and dnd, and by extension, tolkien.

This is two fold, each of the authors have done something that got them in hot water and leftists seeing a chance to advance the cause of a weakened company or one they believe they have a great deal of influence in.

This is partially the reason but also consider that each of the untouched examples is fundamentally a leftist commentary about capitalism. To provide these contrasts between man and that which they hate produces races without redeeming qualities (as they cannot say capitalism has good characteristics.)

As such they are frankly incapable of making through fantasy races the commentary they want to make.

So they are stuck with making their characters products of culture and environment, only superficially separate from man which weakens the contrast. So they are trying to equalize the playing field in a way. Because they can't criticize capitalism or create believable caricatures of races they have to make sure you can't either.

Quick aside about tolkien and leftists relationship with him. You can skip it if you like.

Now Tolkien cannot be criticized by leftists. Not because they can't equally apply these arguments to him, or they don't want to, but the mere act of challenging tolkien, the father of science fantasy would reveal to everyone and themselves that they hate the entire genre. It is not an attack on a trope, a part of the genre or anything else, it's an attack on the genre itself.

(aside there needs to be a word for the kind of thing leftists do to authors. They do not merely cancel them, to cancel is to reject, they want the works of the author and to erase who made them and the works they came from as important to the genre. Something similar has happened very unsuccessfully to lovecraft. I think the phrase "eject the author from genre cannon" is my closest approximation.)

Now they do in fact like tolkien and he does have a message that can use in the form of anti industrialism, however his anti industrialism was not on the basis of socialism or ludditism of the socialistic environmentalism, but the english conservativism of english aristocracy or feudalism. (This is why btw the conservative party of england is anti capitalist and has been from the start.)

They go after authors that one has done something to offend them. That to enjoy their work is in some way to honor them for them, and it is a form of honor. What offends them about tolkien is jealous of his work, the reverence people give him, and the knowledge that your work will be compared to him and considering these are leftists, found to be lacking but also because he is not a leftists, and worse still not one who kneels before them. To kneel to a leftist means that ultimately it doesn't matter if you agree so long as you kneel.

Dont under dent envy is a driving motivation for leftists btw. It is evident in the very utterance of wealth inequality over something like standard of living.

Why the claim like that of extra credits that fantasy races have a good/evil alignment being wrong, so wrong that it can't be applied in media, is itself wrong, is what I am going to argue here.

I think what is necessary to fundamentally express why their opinion is wrong, is the background of why they made it. They made it aligned with the academic view that man is purely a blank slate, with no rationality, no genetics shaping him in anyway, and are ultimately a product of their nurture rather than nature.

One aspect I want to point out is they often claim, "this is morally flawed" only because they try and relate them to real kinds of people. Or that "this is boring" or "this is lazy writing" or some other claim.

It isn't because they believe these things are argued on that basis, because they don't as they don't argue on that basis, it's because claiming its boring changes the debate from them applying their ideology directly to an issue as in "my ideology, which you don't practice says this is wrong" to "this is boring" which is an aesthetic debate rather than the naked policing of other people.

I am not adding what they are policing people on. Which you gain the police someone on their hobbies you do it on the rest of their life as well.

Fantasy races, are not just some endless variations on human. Whether defined by evolution, science fiction, magic and etc, they are different from humans, in both form and/or nature in some way.

This is why you make a fantasy race to show, create and strain the contrast that comes in comparing the fantastical to what is human.

It's why humans are often the everyman of every setting because while human nature can be complex, the fantasy race is the contrasting element, the nature of the contrast can change by degrees but not that it is a contrast.

They fundamentally must be of a different nature to us, even if we are blank slates which we aren't, that fact alone provides the contrast. You could do culture differences but then you have to constantly deal with the fact that contrast when it erodes the very second that race is separated or living in shared space. The inherent to the species implies the constant application of that contrast and how the human deals with it.

In short, their series of videos on the topic are just wrong. Races of evil or good nature are not boring, lazy, or whatever aesthetical judgement they are pretending it is, and the view of humanity in regards to the blank slate is fundamentally wrong.

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

okay, I want to hear about your thoughts on Renesmee wanting to eat Edward?? What's up with that. Also would love to hear about your opinion on this child in general. All the people in her life are hardcore projecting on her, what's the alien child's perspective on all this shit. Thanks for all the twilight meta its wild.

Thank you, glad you enjoy my rambling, strange, thoughts.

What’s Up With Renesmee Devouring Her Enemies?

So, this one’s actually a bit of headcanon on my end, not really supported by anything directly. We’re going way into left field with this.

But I do have this. Renesmee is a highly efficient predator, perhaps in a way more so than the vampire (although she is weaker and slower than vampires) and Renesmee is... not human, for whatever that means.

Everything we see of Renesmee’s early biological development, and what we see happening in Nahuel and his sisters, makes a lot of sense from a biological standpoint.

The mother is turned essentially into a hybrid incubator, such that even if she wanted to abort she likely would not be able to or would not survive it. The child grows at a rapid rate in the room and has to eat itself out, at which point it has a starter meal of the human mother. The child then grows absurdly rapidly to the point where, mentally and physically, it can survive on its own. Growth then slows and then stops when sexual maturity is reached, presumably for reproductive purposes.

Vampires cannot do a few things. They are a half-sterile race, only able to reproduce through humans and the previously male half of the human species. They also need external help to kill a fellow vampire. In other words, they have to light a fire.

Until you burn the pieces, the enemy vampire isn’t dead. Now, using fire as a tool is to date something only the human species has figured out. It is not intuitive and an odd coincidence that vampires had this prerequisite knowledge (I have thoughts on what vampirism even is and where it comes from). 

I imagine, just as Renesmee presumably has reproductive capabilities that vampires lack, she also a has a toolset that vampires lack: the ability to kill a vampire without the need for fire. 

Given that Renesmee’s able to eat human food, this implies she has a digestive that is able to break down nutrients. The reason vampires can’t eat other vampires is they lack this. Edward swallows pizza, he’s vomiting that shit back up three hours later and it’s going to be very solid and very gross. Whatever venom did to his innards, most of his vital human organs aren’t working anymore.

Given that Renesmee’s this mix of venom and who knows what kinds of fluids I believe her stomach is capable of breaking down and digesting vampire flesh. This seems to me the most obvious way to eliminate an enemy vampire when no tools are otherwise available.

Hence, instinctively, if Renesmee wants to murder Edward she will eat him.

(Also, as you can tell, the image is just horrifyingly delightful to me, and so it’s my go to response.)

As for why she would want to eat him, see here and here.

The Family and Renesmee

As you note, everyone in Renesmee’s life projects someone else onto her.

Not so much Carlisle, he just seems very bewildered and overwhelmed by everything at first, and one of the few who openly notes how not human Renesmee is and the implications of this (given the chromosome experiment, I’m sure Carlisle was expecting a squid).

Even in the early stages though we see Edward, Bella, Alice, and Rosalie as primary offenders. (I’d list Esme except Esme is... being Esme about it, so, she’s just floating through Renesmee’s life like her Cullen ghost self and not even at the point where she can project anything onto her. Besides, that’s what Edward’s for.)

Edward sees the best of both himself and Bella in Renesmee, a little intellectual who reads War and Peace at a few weeks old when she has no understanding of the concepts of War, Napoleon, Russia, or Peace. As Edward always does, he so obliviously projects onto her, that I imagine it doesn’t matter what Renesmee says or does around him and she quickly figures that out.

Bella’s left the planet. Renesmee’s this beautiful thing, that looks like Edward, that is her daughter. Bella has no idea what parenting is. She’s floating through life preparing herself to become Esme 2.0. It’s not so much that she projects onto Renesmee but that she... completely fails to connect her to reality. Renesmee is a concept to Bella. Renesmee might figure this out, but given her feelings for her mother, I imagine she’s far more conflicted about it. She probably wishes things could be different between them, and often tries to find ways to make it so, it just never works.

Alice treats Renesmee much as she treated Bella, as her little doll that she can dress in cute clothing. Beyond that, Renesmee is a nuisance who messes with Alice’s gift. Oh, Alice likes her well enough, but I don’t see them having an actual meaningful conversation or connection.

Rosalie’s probably the wort offender in the projection domain. She is absolutely projecting the ideal human child she never had onto Renesmee. When Renesmee inevitibly fails to live up to these perfect standards, which even a human child wouldn’t, I imagine Rosalie will get increasingly upset. Acknowledging Renesmee isn’t what she wanted either would probably break Rosalie, so she’s not going to do that, and instead try to get Renesmee to behave correctly. For however much she cares about Renesmee, I imagine Renesmee sours on her growing up, as she knows she will never be what Rosalie wishes she was. Grateful that Rosalie helped keep her alive, of course, but... she would also probably wonder, as fandom does, just how much Rosalie was hoping Bella would die in birth (for the record, I think this might have been an idle fantasy of Rosalie’s, but I don’t think she’d go this far.)

Then of course, there’s Jake. Woof, Jake. As I linked above, I think Renesmee will slowly become more and more disenchanted with Jake. She’ll either learn about or suspect her own gift, have no interest in having a romantic relationship with him, or learn about his checkered past with her mother. More Jake is...

Imprinting, at a very large distance, sounds nice but imagine what that means. You have this person who is utterly dependent on you, who will do whatever you want and be whatever you wish them to be. In other words, you have this codependent person you can never get rid of who is never authentic. They will never say no to you, will always do what you wish, and if you dare to tell them you want a little time to yourself they will probably combust into flames.

That’s not a good relationship for anyone: imprinter or imprintee.

Jake, in a sense, ceases to be a real person when it comes to Renesmee. Renesmee will figure that out and then... why should she live her life just to make this miserable man who once tried to murder her happy?

What Does This Do to Renesmee?

I imagine Renesmee grows up feeling very isolated.

She doesn’t really belong in the Cullens, for all that they’re the best fit she has. She certainly doesn’t belong with other imprintees in the tribe (and whatever occasional function she goes to with the Quileutes is probably a complete disaster), and she’s not human either.

I imagine her strongest relationships are Charlie Swan (who beyond the surrealness of his life I imagine takes Renesmee at very face value), Carlisle Cullen (who also seems to not project onto Renesmee and takes her at face value), and Bella (who she desperately wants a stronger relationship with but Bella’s not listening).

Well, Charlie at some point will die. He will not choose immortality. I imagine Renesmee never quite understands why he was allowed to choose death or what the purpose of the human species even is. To her, they are caterpillars who never went into the chrysalis. Given to Renesmee the Cullen diet is the norm, to her it would seem obvious that, yes, everyone in the world can turn into a vampire and if they ration animal resources correctly there’s no problem. Or, if not everyone, then certainly her grandfather need not die.

I’m sure Charlie tries to talk to Renesmee about this but given that he’s one of her few strong relationships in this world the talk of “I’m going to die some day, sorry kiddo” doesn’t go well.

So, I’m sure it takes Renesmee a very long time to recover from that blow, if, in fact, she ever really does. I’m sure a part of her will always grieve Charlie.

In time, I think she’ll leave the coven to go on a journey of self discovery. The coven will just be too damn suffocating and she needs to find out who she truly is. Now, if that’s before or after the inevitable collapse of the Volturi and destruction of human society is hard to say.

I will say that whatever the future holds for Renesmee, just like everyone else’s, it is unbearably bleak.

[primaverabutitalreadyexists]

“I really don’t care being « called out » on something that isn’t true, but I have the right to defend myself. I will keep drawing him as I see fit and using his cane/crutch, and brace when the setting call for it. Have a nice day!”

It was when you said this that did it for me. Only willing you include a disabled characters disability aids when it fits your aesthetic? I know you have quite a few followers and for some reason that makes you think you’re above taking criticism but my god that was a shitty way to respond. I know someone else said that we are more than our disabilities which is true, but it’s also something we can’t just turn off whenever we feel like it. That’s why when an artist decides that it just doesn’t ‘fit the piece’ they’re drawing it kind of sucks.

Having « few followers » does not make me above anything or anyone else, I would say it’s quite the opposite actually. And I gladly take any criticism, as long as it is constructive, and done with the desire to help people improve in a field they lack experience/knowledge. That person was straight up agressive in the first place, already assuming things and straight up went for a confrontation that could have been easily avoided. And let me tell you, I’m at fault as well, I shouldn’t have matched the same tone, and that’s why it escalated this way, I’ve been super dumb in my phrasing. Maybe it was a clumsily written criticism, maybe they didn’t meant to make it looks like an assumption, idk and most likely will never know.

Including a character disability has nothing to do with aesthetics, a disability ISN’T an aesthetic to begin with. You can’t just say « oh no it’ll ruin my piece, go away crutch » and if you ever find a tweet or anything from me saying this, please send it to me, because it just never ever scratched my brain, not even once. Like a lot of artists out there, sometimes I draw things in a way that makes me feel good, that I think look okay. And if they offend some people, it isn’t in my intentions, I would never willingly do something as mean and stupid as that. I use Viktor for a lot of male body studies, like that shirtless one, that was just a primary version of an other with one with the merged brace and robot parts that isn’t even finished. That person picked 3 fanarts I’ve made of Viktor without his crutch or his brace. Does that make me a fucking ableist?? I would love to post all my fanarts, sketches of him featuring them, because I have a lot of these, and future projects, unfinished pieces that now I’m just too fucking self conscious to even finish. I love drawing him and now I feel like I do not deserve it. It was a bad way to answer them, and I totally agree with that, but I won’t stay here, being called a disgusting term and say nothing.

When I said when the setting calls for it, I was talking about wether it’s a portrait, a certain pose, if he’s seen entirely, or not, or if it’s Act 1, 2/3, machine herald or even the post shimmer augments design non canon thing a lot of artists are imagining. We still don’t know how he will turn out in s2, and a lot of people are making fan design (amazing I must say, I’m so happy to see a fandom coming with such wonderful and original ideas). I’m not saying I draw things like « oh what if I included his crutch this time? Would be so cute and cool 🥰 » It’s all about the way I’m making the piece and the setting he’s on. Currently I’m working on a piece where he’s using his crutch to get up from his bed, for exemple. Idk if it makes sense, it’s frustrating.

Anyway, I’m glad you’ve reached to me to talk about it, and to speak your mind on the matter.

[septembriseur]

I want to come back to this article, which I reblogged a post from (after seeing it reblogged by loads of people on my dash). I recommend reading the article if you haven’t done so. Its central argument revolves around the idea that “modern liberal democracy presents itself as non-ideological beyond ideology,” and that ideology itself is always presented in literature/media as unacceptably violent— villainous. (I would argue that, in fact, any sort of cultural “accretion,” in the sense that culture is perceived as "on top of” and obscuring universalized western ideology,  is tolerated only insofar as it is not really taken specifically or seriously. That’s why even characters who are presented as deeply religious (think of Matt Murdock or Rogue One’s Baze and Chirrut) are portrayed as religious in a way that is broad, universal, flexible, and vague. 

One issue that the article doesn’t really delve into is that supposedly “ideologue” villains are actually profoundly anideological, except insofar as their ideology is, like, anti- modern liberal democracy’s lack of ideology. A really interesting example of this is in Iron Man: Tony Stark gets held hostage by a group of extremists whose extreme belief is... well... even the MCU wiki seems unable to provide any detail on this beyond “destroying world peace.” The film employs a weird move where it obviously relies on the Afghan setting of the villainous Ten Rings to suggest associations with radical Islamism, yet also provides evidence that the Ten Rings are not Islamists. On the one hand, it provides a sort of generic Western specter of radical Islamists— brown men speaking foreign languages and living in Afghan caves— and on the other hand it coyly removes all potential religious, political, or cultural motivation for their actions. These guys aren’t impoverished tribesmen who’ve been subject to tumultuous centuries of imperial warfare, and they’re not religious extremists living out masculine power fantasies. They’re just a group of dudes who kind of look vaguely Middle Eastern and kind of sound vaguely Middle Eastern (since Arabic and Persian are the languages we hear the most). 

Of course, there’s a real-world explanation for this: Marvel wants to be able to tap into that specter of radical Islamism without offending Muslim consumers. But the textual effect is to create a picture of the world in which terrorism in Afghanistan is evacuated of all meaning. Don’t get me wrong: terrorism in Afghanistan is unbelievably destructive and to a large extent nihilistic, in that it benefits no one and spreads only despair and suffering. But at the same time, it arises out of a historical, political, economic, and religious-cultural context, and if you refuse to understand this context, then you will fail to understand why people make the choice to become terrorists (or how to stop them).

That’s the real problem here: the creation of a world in which the only rational choice is modern liberal democracy, and all other choices are nonsensical. 

Marvel is a great site at which to explore this, simply because there’s so much of it. (You could also easily look at Star Wars, as MacQuarrie does in that article— why does the First Order want power? New extended universe writers have fleshed this out more in their web of liminally canonical texts, but on screen the answer seems to be, in the words of the also-manifestly-guilty-of-this-and-guilty-in-other-ways Joss Whedon’s Dr. Horrible: “the world is a mess, and I just need to rule it.”) 

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier is a wildly characteristic example of this. It has the thankless task of trying to engage with the effects of the canonically almost effect-free (cf Spider-man: Far From Home) blip, and pieces together a weirdly nonsensical storyline in which the blip enable border-free mass migration, which was revoked when the other half of the world’s population reappeared. The plot revolves around a group of super soldier refugees/displaced persons who want to stop borders from being reimposed on the world. Sam Wilson refers to the refugees as “people who have been welcomed into countries that previously kept them out with barb wire,” and indeed it's hard to imagine any version of this narrative in which the “migration” we’re talking about is the migration of Global South nationals to the Global North. There’s a really plausible specter here: the Global North does source its manual and domestic labor from the Global South while, whenever possible, keeping Global South nationals out with barbed wire. It does make sense that the Global North would import laborers and then attempt to deport them when their presence was no longer convenient. That is, in fact, literally what has happened/is happening in the UK to foreign healthcare workers during the pandemic.

However, as in Iron Man, Marvel wants to mobilize a specter while also evacuating it of all meaning. None of the displaced people we see in TFATWS bear any resemblance to real-world displaced persons. In spite of their United Colors of Benetton racial diversity, they display no marks of culture, religion, nationality, or indeed poverty. They even have British and American accents. They are completely neutral in every way.

This matters for several reasons. First of all, it allows the viewer to differentiate between the migrants on-screen— Western-looking, English-speaking, non-religious— with migrants off-screen: [perceived to be] too religious, non-English-speaking, culturally and racially “other.” Secondly (again as with Iron Man), it removes all context from the act of migration. Why did these people become migrants? Uh... because of the blip, I guess? Beyond some vague references to suffering, it’s never addressed. This allows the viewer to completely detach the question of migrants/displacement from any of its structural context. Why do people migrate in the real world? Because their countries have been completely devastated by warfare, often proxy warfare carried out by imperial states. Because climate change has completely devastated the regions where they live, with or without triggering devastating warfare. Because they belong to ethnic, political, and/or religious groups that are being systematically destroyed by state governments. Because colonialism and neoliberal capitalism have completely devastated the economies of the regions where they live. This is why the stakes of migration are high. 

If, as the show suggests, people just migrate for various personal reasons that really aren’t that important, then the stakes are not high, and we don’t have to feel bad about the behavior of our governments. This is a huge problem at a time when Denmark is shipping Syrian asylum-seekers back to Syria because it’s apparently fine now, Joe Biden is failing to make good on campaign promises about increasing refugee quotas, the UK is housing asylum seekers in situations that violate human rights law, migrant drownings in the Mediterranean Sea have become a regular feature, and the United States has systematically resisted fulfilling its promises to Iraqis and Afghans who risked their lives working for US forces in exchange for visas.

But, like, above and beyond the specific political issue of migration: what is the Flag Smasher ideology? “One world, one people.” I accept that there might be some viewers (mostly those with no knowledge or experience of immigration) who oppose this on principle, but it seems pretty obviously... good. So the bad part is... that they’re fighting for it? (According to people in my notes, this is Bad.) It’s possible to read this as another example of what the MacQuarrie article discusses: personal violence good, ideological violence bad. However, once again we have an example of an ideology that is not ideological, an ideology that is a specter cleaned out of any possible substance. The nonsensical choice here (the one beside which modern liberal democratic norms are obvious) is the choice to commit violence when there is no urgency that justifies this— none of the urgency that, in fact, exists in the real world, and explains why people regularly sacrifice their lives in desperate attempts to escape their homes. 

This is a really good example of how capitalism— a force with no real agency or subject, no evil committee planning its deeds— ends up enacting a project that systematically enforces its ideology. Attempts to render narratives apolitical are themselves profoundly political, even when justified in terms of appeal to the consumer. This is one of the most dangerous aspects of media, IMHO. 

[aminiatureworld]

Time and Chance II

Characters: Kaeya, Xiao, gn!reader

Word Count: 2,702

Warnings: Swearing

Premise: Confessions are tricky things. Sometimes it takes week, maybe months, maybe years of building up courage for one to happen. And sometimes life throws the oddest wrenches in our paths.

In which the reader confesses.

Author’s Note:

Sorry for the lack of Zhongli. I feel completely awful currently and though I wrote part of his scenario it was really poor in quality so I decided to stick with Kaeya and Xiao. I’ll get to him and Keqing another time I promise. Also don’t worry this isn’t life or death I just need to sleep it off lol. I realize between this and my computer there’s always something and I feel a bit guilty about it. At least I hope everything’s up to par!

This also probably won’t get proofread tonight.

 I hope you enjoyed my extra fic for Valentine’s Day! To all the lovely people who requested prompts I will be getting to those next week. Have a lovely night and thank you so much for your patience!

Kaeya

Perhaps falling in love with Kaeya wasn’t the most original thing you’d ever done, but by the time you’d come to that conclusion you were too far gone to care.

You loved Kaeya, or at least you liked him a lot. As someone who looked up to the Knights of Favonius there was something intriguing about the man who was simultaneously one of its lynchpins, and a sort of rogue state of a human being. It didn’t hurt that he was stupidly good looking, and a bit of a smoother talker. Okay, maybe more than a bit, but you didn’t really mind that. It was nice to be flirted with sometimes, and Kaeya had the sense never to take it too far.

You figured that Kaeya was at least somewhat aware of your feelings. Though you never asked about it, it seemed somehow too brash. Instead you figured that, in the months that had passed since your friendship had begun – for you did see it as a friendship by now – Kaeya had become aware and decided not to comment on it, as to not hurt your feelings. Though you wouldn’t go as far as call it noble of him, you certainly appreciated it.

So this charade continued on. You two remained close friends, or rather close friends in your estimation. Kaeya continued to flirt and you continued to ignore your personal feelings. It was truly an odd song and dance, but it wasn’t one you were about to change, not willingly anyways.

It’d become a bit of a tradition to patrol together. Seeing as you were an adventurer yourself and Kaeya was, well, Kaeya, you two had eventually decided it was better to make one long patrol together than two shorter patrols apart. Besides wasn’t the rule safety in numbers?

It was an exceedingly boring patrol, and as it neared its end the atmosphere between you two grew from semi-serious to absolute buffoonery. Kaeya had challenged you to see who could pick the most flowers the fastest, then who could control their vision’s element the long, then eventually, seized by some divine genius, he suggested that you might see who could run the farthest on the walls of Monstadt without falling over.

“This has got to be the stupidest thing I’ve ever agreed to.” You grumbled good naturedly. “Don’t blame me if you go tumbling off and end up with a broken leg.”

“I trust you’ll lift me to safety before that happens.” Kaeya answered back, eyes alight with his daredevil proposal.

“My anemo vision isn’t your personal elevator captain.” You reminded him. Hauling yourself up on the walls so you were on the farthest side you flashed a thumbs up. Kaeya nodded.

“Okay. Three… two… one and three quarters.”

“Kaeya.” You huffed, eliciting a chuckle from the knight.

“Okay, okay. Three, two, one, go!” The two of you ran as fast as you could, scrambling up the turrets, too concentrated to talk. Kaeya was laughing though, and eventually you found yourself laughing too, thrilled by the recklessness you were indulging in and the freedom to be doing it with someone apparently as stupid as you were.

“I’m getting ahead~” Kaeya chimed. You scoffed, quickening your pace. Kaeya did likewise, and for a moment it seems you two were going to be running the entire wall in this position. That is before Kaeya slipped.

“Shit.” He cursed, waving his arms like a madman. This only lasted a few seconds before he truly tumbled off, heading towards the stone paved ground. You didn’t say anything, though your brain was screaming various incomprehensible things. You simply clambered off your perch, hands already outstretched, praying to the god Barbatos that you could manipulate air you couldn’t see.

Luck was on your side as it turned out, and your swirl of wind caught Kaeya before he hit the pavement. Gliding down you shook your head wildly.

“Great gods Kaeya you scared the shit out of me!” You knew that you were screaming slightly, but you couldn’t help it. The whole situation had riled you up, leaving you panicked and not fully in control of your emotions.

“I’m fine! Honestly I am. I’m only sorry I lost.” Kaeya chuckled, but his laughter was weaker than before and his expression was slightly shocked.

“It’s not time to joke around Kaeya!” You shot back. “You can’t be so reckless! I know that it was also my fault for agreeing to it, but honestly! What would Monstadt do without you? What would I do without you?” You paused then, realizing that what you said held certain implications you’d been hoping to keep under wraps.

“What do you mean?” Kaeya’s expression immediately became brighter. Figures he’d read the meaning into your words. Honestly the man was too emotionally intelligent for his own good.

“I meant was I said.” You replied, figuring that there was nothing else to say. The truth was all but out now. “I really don’t know what I’d do without you Kaeya. Now I’m going to tell you something I’ve been hiding for a while, and since I saved your life and revealed it in the process I just want you to take it seriously, okay? I’m not joking, and now that I’ve said it I want to make it explicit. I like you. Like, I like, like you. And I know that I’m just your friend and that you’ve probably been aware of it for ages, but it’s out in the open now, okay? You don’t have to reciprocate or anything, that’s not it. I just… want to let it out.”

You stared at Kaeya, trying to gauge his reaction as much as possible, unwilling to look away. Unsurprisingly the news hardly seemed shocking to him, but instead of his smile slipping from his face it only grew wider. “You’re kinda oblivious you know.”

“I – what?” You sputtered, slightly offended. This wasn’t where you expecting it to go. “I don’t expect you to reciprocate, but leave the teasing alone for now at least!” So much for calling Kaeya emotionally intelligent.

“You’re reading this the wrong way!” Kaeya held up his hands, before stepping closer to you. “I just can’t believe that you’ve been my friend this whole time, had feelings on top of it, and never noticed that I was just as interested in you. I mean I’ve been flirting with you for months.”

“You flirt with everyone.” You scoffed, although the argument seemed to hold a bit less weight when compared to the jubilant, slightly smug look on Kaeya’s face.

“You may be right about that.” He admitted. “But c’mon. I don’t flirt with them like I flirt with you. I certainly don’t take them out on patrol.” His expression turned softer then, and he shook his head. “I know that I joke around a lot, but I promise, I wouldn’t joke about this. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you though, that was a fault on my part.”

“So you mean I’ve been hiding my feelings all this time for nothing?” You deadpanned, feeling overwhelmed. The situation still seemed too good to be true.

“Sounds about right.” Mischief was creeping back into Kaeya’s voice. “But it’s all right now! Your prayers have been heard! So, since you were the one to admit your feelings, I’ll be the one to ask the question. Want to date?”

“Yes.” You replied, sure of your answer.

“Good.” Kaeya replied, before pulling you into a hug, one you gladly reciprocated. It had been a hell of a day, and while you wouldn’t relieve Kaeya’s fall for anything you felt somehow lighter, as if a great burden had been lifted off your shoulders. He liked you, Kaeya liked you. For you, for now, that was all that mattered.

 Xiao

Once you’d decided to admit your feelings to Xiao you’d immediately followed up that decision with the knowledge that you were going to have to break it to him slowly. You’d been friends with Xiao for over a year now, and though you were cautiously optimistic as to how the adeptus would take it, you still knew that he wasn’t the kind of person who would be at all comfortable with a sudden confession.

Confessing your feelings was in itself an act which required all the courage you possessed. You weren’t sure when you’d truly started falling for Xiao, it had come about so gradually. But before you knew it you had grown to love him. You loved the way he talked, the soft cadence of his voice though often impatient was still filled with enough softness to make your heart flutter. You loved how, despite all he’d suffered, he still retained a begrudging love for the world, especially Liyue, which he once revealed to you would always be the one thing he loved, even if he loved nothing else. You loved everything, his hands, his eyes, the way he walked, the way he kept going despite it all. You loved it so much it hurt, and now you found that your love wasn’t something merely to be pushed away. If the odds of Xiao rejecting you were almost 100 so be it, at least then you’d be proud of yourself.

You spent quite a bit of time mulling the whole thing over, before the answer struck you. Xiao refused the gifts you brought him after some of your adventures, and when you’d once asked him what he might accept he’d shifted his gaze slightly towards the side, one hand running itself through his hair. “…Almond… Tofu.” He’d admitted. You’d been delighted by the revelation at the time, promising yourself you’d learn to make it. And what was a better way to show your feelings than to do so now? Not only was it something he’d like, it was something you’d made yourself.

So you gathered all the ingredients, borrow a receipt, and set to work in Wangshu Inn’s kitchen.

Unfortunately you’d failed to predict how difficult Almost Tofu was to make. It’d been hours and you had nothing to show for it but dirty utensils, a scarcity of ingredients, and a few mysterious blobs that looked about two steps away from inedible. Leaning your head on the counter you let out a groan. Why the fuck did you think this was a good idea?

“What’re you doing?” A familiar voice broke through your reverie.

“Xiao!” You exclaimed, glancing around you. There was no use hiding the project, although technically nothing was looking even close to Almond Tofu right now. “I was, I was trying to make Almond Tofu. But I guess I’m no good at cooking.” You laughed, more than slightly embarrassed.

Xiao’s eyes narrowed, and he raised an eyebrow. Saying nothing he walked over to the counter. Grabbing a cloth he started wiping down the counter.

“What’re you doing?” You asked, slightly confused and extremely surprised.

“Teaching you.” Came the reply. “Come on, let’s start again. Have you washed your hands since your last attempt?”

If cooking was difficult without Xiao it was impossible with him. The whole time you couldn’t help butbe aware of his presence, the way he stood behind you, leaning forward ever so often. Once you hadn’t been mixing fast enough and he placed his hands on yours, pressing his chest against your back. Your grip had immediately lost all strength, and you were sure that Xiao was the only one actually working. His breath was warm against your neck, and his palms were warm and dry. It was all too much, and you spent the rest of the lesson only half paying attention, too wrapped up in his proximity to you.

Despite the distractions this batch turned out, well looking like Almond Tofu. You couldn’t help but smile when seeing the finished product. Even if you didn’t make it completely yourself, there was still something about creating that gave you a sense of pride. Even if you did need help from the person you were going to give it to.

“It’s done.” Xiao proclaimed, a slight smile of satisfaction on his face. “I hope you enjoy it.”

“Oh, well actually I made it for you.” You grabbed the plate and approached the adeptus. “I know you said it was your favorite, and the only thing you’d accept, so, I made it!” You smiled slightly, though inside you were a bundle of nerves. This was happening. Holy shit this was happening.

The surprise on Xiao’s face was evident, but he nevertheless took the plate. Grabbing a pair of chopsticks he pressed into the tofu, causing it to almost immediately separate. Taking a bite a smile crossed his face. “Thank you,” he said, “it’s very good. I’m surprised you remembered.”

“Of course I did!” You replied, voice slightly hurried. “And, um, well I’d like to tell you something.”

“What is it?” Xiao’s slightly concerned look returned. Setting the plate down he crossed his arms.

“Well… you see.” You glanced at the floor. “I know this will probably seem very sudden, and maybe not very proper; and I know that this is something that’s purely one sided, but the fact is I like you. I like you more than a friend and, well… yeah.” You finished, feeling as if you’d just spoken some utter nonsense.

Glancing up you noticed how rigid Xiao had gone. Mouth twisting into a nervous frown you shook your head. “I’m so sorry! I know that you aren’t really, well you’ve said you aren’t familiar with the way humans experience the world. And I don’t want to put you on the spot, that’s the last thing I wanted to do. I’m sorry it’s so shocking.” Glancing away you started worrying your hands together. This had gone so much worse than you’d expected it.

“I don’t understand,” Xiao finally spoke, dropping his arms to his sides, “I don’t understand why you’d like someone like me. I’m not a human, and in terms of adepti I’m far more cursed than most. You shouldn’t, you shouldn’t like some like me. I bring disaster.”

“No you don’t!” The objection came naturally to you, horrified as you were by Xiao’s view of himself. “You’re one of the most wonderful beings I’ve ever met, human or adeptal! You’re kind, and you try to understand the pain and emotions of humanity. And you never push your burdens onto others despite carrying such heavy ones. If that’s not the mark of a good person, well then I don’t know what is!”

“I still don’t understand.” Xiao said, voice softer than usual but just as matter of fact.

“I’m sorry I pushed this onto you.” You said, suddenly feeling a burst of regret, turning around you made to leave the kitchen.

“Wait!” Xiao’s voice was loud and slightly jarring, his hand caught your wrist in a grip that, while gentle, was still firm. You turned around, unsure what to expect. Xiao sighed, closing the distance between you two. “When I said I don’t understand, that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.” There was a pause as he collected his thoughts, looking down, shaking his head slightly. “I don’t understand how humans think, nor how they feel. But, when I’m around you I’m happy, happier than I’ve been in a millennia. And I want to be around you, all the time sometimes. I want to know more about you and I want you to know more about me. So, if that’s what you mean, then… I also like you.”

Xiao glanced back up towards you and your eyes met. You felt slightly floaty all of a sudden, as if you’d gotten very, very drunk. Everything was too sudden, your emotions had changed too quickly. But through all your confusion you understood one thing. Xiao liked you, he liked you. He wasn’t going to reject you or push you away. The thought was enough to bring a smile to your face.

“So you really like me?” You asked. Though you knew the answer now you still wanted to hear it again. Just in case.

“Yes.” Xiao replied, a smile once more adorning his face. “I like you.”

And that was all you needed to hear.