#he makes it all better and easier

[foxy-kitsune]

my fullsun☀️

[m1d-45]

will you promise that i'll see you again?

summary: your people refuse reason, and their damage refuses to heal. when it seems as if the whole world has left you, your dutiful knight still remains by your side.

word count: 2.3k

-> warnings: implied suicidal ideation (reader + unnamed side character), reader's previous deaths are mentioned in somewhat graphic detail

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @yuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

“you’re one of the only things keeping me going, you know.”

dainslef turned to you in surprise, the even neutrality to your tone a sharp contrast to the rapid pace of his heart. he wasn’t a fool, he knew that the hunt had to be taking a heavy toll on you, but this…

this was more than he expected.

he knew he was one of a pitiful few who saw through celestia’s false puppet, who knew you for you and not their mirage. he knew that the entire world was hellbent on erasing you from existence, that you’d been forced through your own death countless times as teyvat pulled you apart and pushed you back together far from the scene of your would-be murder. he saw the golden scars across your skin, the dried remains of blood lining the wounds you hadn’t been able to patch yet. he’d been the one to wash them away, not minding the refuse soaking into his gloves if it meant your hands could be clean.

he recognized the dull exhaustion in your eyes, the same as the ones he saw in the reflections of lakes. tired, worn, barely there, hanging on by one solitary string that was wound so tightly around a desperate hand.

you had always been his reason for continuing. when the traveller broke down and the ruler of the abyss hid from the sun, you were there. when the chasm’s mud clung to his boots and the memories in his head burned as nails forced between his eyes, you were there. his rosary was kept tight to his chest at all times, familiar prayers pulling him up in the morning and forcing him to sleep at night. he was alive for far, far too long, but you made it bearable. you were his duty, his promise.

he never once thought that he’d be yours. then again, he never thought that he’d have to defend you from the ones you once called friends. time never did pass how he expected it to.

“…leading light?”

you looked down, twirling blades of grass around your fingers. he had led you up to a mostly desolate area of sumeru, west of bayda harbor. it close enough to the sea, forest, and desert that you could reasonably make an escape through any of those routes if need be, while also providing a rather pleasant view. the sky was bleeding red and gold as the sun sank below the horizon, a remarkable sight that fell on blind eyes. there was no use trying to enjoy nature’s beauty when he still kept one hand on his sword and both ears pricked for the slightest sign of danger.

you shouldn’t have to worry about your safety. you shouldn’t have to prioritize based on how likely you are to get hurt, or how easily it would be to make an escape. you still flinched when the wind blew a little too quick, used to it heralding armored footsteps and battle cries. in another life, you were welcomed with open arms, able to enjoy yourself without constantly being on high alert. teyvat did what it could to adapt; the air was still, frozen in time, barely a bird chirping for miles. it was meant to be comforting, he thinks, but dead silence was more unnerving than any breeze.

“i mean it.” he could hear every shift in his cloak around your shoulders, the heavy fabric doing little to soothe your stress. it was yours more than it was his now, to the point he felt claustrophobic wearing it. how long had he been traveling with you? the days blurred.

“i don’t doubt you.” he never would. never could. he’s not sure, even if he somehow wanted to, that his body would allow him to treat your words as anything less than fact. “but i don’t understand what you mean.”

you were a god. the creator, the first, the one that shaped the sovereigns scales and laid the foundations of earth. you predated the archons, celestia, the very skies themselves…

and he, somehow, was a driving motivation for you?

his words must have been funny, a sharp laugh tumbling out of your mouth. it was bitter, humorless, and somewhat raspy. he made note to find some water for you later. “what else could i mean?” you turn to him, some of his confusion lost as your eyes found his. even this burnt out, deep bags set beneath them, you still managed to steal the very air in his lungs. “you’re the only reason i’m still here.”

he didn’t know what to say. what was there to be said, when you were you and he was him? when the world had abandoned you, it made sense you’d cling to what remained faithful. it was merely coincidence he happened to find you first, that’s all. coincidence that you trusted enough not to run from, coincidence that you allowed to care for your injuries. there was nothing to say, because you held nothing for him in particular, only leaning on him out of need. he had to believe that. what was he left with if that wasn’t true? an awkward truth hid beneath his well-known lies, too large for him to see the edges, let alone to contain.

“please… do not say such things again.” to ask of his god what he could not ask of himself was surely some form of heresy, as was willingly laying aside his guard when he was the only one who was tasked with protecting you. he pulled his attention from the tide below, from the rustling trees, holding faith that the world would not be needlessly cruel. he stepped forward, kneeling beside you. even up close, you still seemed painfully small. “it is your own resilience that has allowed you to persevere.”

it’s the earth that leads you from danger.

it’s the water that follows you wherever you go.

it’s the leylines that whisk you to safety.

it’s the wind that warns you of what’s to come.

it’s the you from the past that protects the you in the present.

it’s the you in the present that provides for the you in the future.

it’s you, from everywhere and everywhen, continuing to fight.

and yet you sigh. you look away, across the sea, tracing fontaines skyline. “it really isn’t. i was lucky to run into you when i did.”

you had just crossed the wall back into the forest, burning hot and shaking. he was the lucky one, in truth, to be able to pick your figure out from the sand below. perched on a high cliffside, even mitachurls were reduced to small brown flecks.

you had worn a cryo mage’s cloak, which was what initially drew his attention. abyss activity wasn’t uncommon in the area, but a cryo mage in the desert… that was cause for intrigue. he stepped forward and slid down the steep face in front of him, a slight puff of dust marking his landing in the desolate sand of old vanarana.

he didn’t know what to expect. you stumbled around the jagged remains of a tree, heading for the statue of the seven. he followed, only growing more confused. cryo and dendro did not react with each other, and there was no way to “slow” a statue. a scouting mission, maybe? but why a cryo mage, when pyro would have been far more advantageous in the case of an attack?

he leaned around the corner carefully, prepared for the sight of a staff or the chanting of abyssal magic filling the air. the entire world seemed to be holding its breath, frozen in place and waiting for some trigger to continue.

he saw none of that. you were collapsed at the foot of the statue, faint wheezing only making it to his ears by virtue of the standstill around him. you held no staff, commanded no magic, your chest barely moving with air.

he’d never seen a mage seek out the archons when dying. one hand squeezed the handle of his sword as he crept forward, ready to strike should the situation turn against him. the sand barely shifted beneath his feet, his own heart sounding too loud to his ears. you did not move, showing no signs that you had noticed his approach. he still didn’t trust it.

your cloak was tattered and torn, with thick gloves atypical of a mage. they reminded him more of hilichurl wraps, which was strange considering you wore no mask. your face was instead covered by what looked like eremite cloth, just as stained and dirtied as the rest of your clothes. what he could see looked almost human; in another life, he could believe you were a weary traveller, lost amidst the sand.

he was acting foolish. if the abyss had a human tool, he needed to figure out why. he reached down, undoing the sloppy knot of your veil and letting the brocade fall limply to the grass.

…grass. he blinked, eyes flickering between the ground and your face, not sure which was harder to believe. flowers had bloomed around you, protecting your body from the blazing sands, and he’d be a fool not to recognize the face plastered all over every bounty board.

he didn’t understand. if nothing else, he thought the archons would have enough respect for their creator to know when they were being lied to, yet before him was barely living proof of the inverse. sweat beaded along every inch of exposed skin, deep-set heat exhaustion burning you from the inside out. how could you be a threat? how could they be so blind?

he looked again, the shine of elemental sight straining his eyes, catching flickers of the dendro energy pouring from the statue. you were the only one the archons would feed. you were the only one to make the very earth break its own rules, allowing lotuses to bloom from barren soil. something painfully similar to rage threatened what remained of his rationality, and it took all he had to push it aside.

that didn’t matter. if he went off on some banal revenge quest, he’d be no better than them. your safety mattered more. he picked you up and set aside how calm his curse felt, beginning the trek back to his camp. behind him, the flowers already began to wither, losing their persistence without you to foster it.

perhaps that initial meeting was luck. but these was no luck involved in your trust in him. when you woke up and saw him at your side, you chose to trust him. you chose to believe that he was not like the others, that he would protect you, and he was forever grateful for that trust. nobody could fault you for being angry, for being spiteful about what you were put through and choosing to lash out. nobody would have the right to be upset if you chose to vent your wrath against those that had hurt you.

but you didn’t. you chose, again and again, to believe in the world. you chose to let them live their lives, even if it meant getting hurt again in the process. you chose a quiet life traveling with him over the comfortable life on your throne. to willingly choose to travel with a disgraced knight to spare your people guilt… he couldn’t decide if it was noble or reckless. either way, he was selfishly happy that he was the one to stay by your side.

“i won’t try to convince you. but, please.. do not give up on yourself so easily.” i know far too many who have died by the same hand. “the world and its opinion does not define you. only you get to decide where fate leads.”

you lean towards him, and he thinks you might have passed out- but no, your head lands on his shoulder with far too much precision. he stiffens, not used to existence without a constant pain beneath his skin. “how motivational. you tell all your soldiers that?”

his heart is beating too quickly, thoughts unusually hard to grasp. you’re the only one who could have this effect on him. he only wished it wasn’t now, when your belief in yourself was on the edge. “i mean it. none of this is your fault, and neither are celestial actions the people’s fault. i know that you are hurt, but i don’t want you to accept that main needlessly. you shouldn’t have to view your creation with such pain.” slowly, carefully, he raises the hand closer to you, doing his best not to disturb you as he settles it on your arm. he’s can only hope that the contact brings you as much comfort as it does him. “if nothing else, believe me. promise you’ll at least try.”

he doesn’t think you’ll agree. why would you make a promise to one who represents the heaven’s betrayal? why would you let him hold you close at all, when you can surely sense the bindings of those who tried to kill you wrapped tightly around his soul? he doesn’t know. all he can do is hope.

“…alright, dainslef. i promise.”

twilight has long since fallen, and yet he smiles for the first time in centuries.

[shepscapades]

Why does Ren have 4 ears? Are they all real or is one set fake?

Hehe I’ve gotten this question a lot actually! They’re all real— I like to think hybridization isn’t always a clean balance of traits, so Ren just unfortunately ended up with two sets of ears— his Dog ears being much more receptive to sound, naturally— and sometimes when the extra intake of sound is too overwhelming, I imagine he wears earplugs in his human ears to help adjust :> it’s a bit weird, but idk! i like to make designs funky and nonconventional! I liked the idea that Ren had hearing struggles due to wonky hybridization and just kept the concept :>

[magician-under-the-m00nlight]

aptx!kaito au in which Shinichi doesn't know aptx exists and feels insane that his leading theory is "a six year old is the mastermind behind Kaitou Kid"

[turtleblogatlast]

It’s too bad the Hamatos can’t go almost anywhere in the Hidden City without getting banned from a place or committing a crime or being blamed for a crime and then banned from a place because the Hidden City must contain a treasure trove of basic items that would help their specific mutations. I like to imagine that they sometimes do manage to go a day without too much incident to get some of these items.

Like, special lotions for Yokai scales, brushes made especially for shelled humanoids, clothing made to fit their forms better, etc, etc. Even Splinter could probably find a lot of stuff for like fur and teeth care that’s hard to find above ground.

They’d gotten by more than well on their own, but there’s a certain luxury to be had for specially made stuff infused with all sorts of healing mystic properties as well. Imagine they all had aches and pains they’d just dealt with for years only to realize that oh wait…I don’t have to feel like this all the time?

[lorelune]

jing yuan doesn't really brat tame. he lets you get angry and hissy. you can put on any attitude, he's so unphased. unbothered! you can kick and scream and shout for attention until you tire yourself out. when you've finally ran yourself in circles, so frustrated that you're at the point of tears, jing yuan will tug your hair just right and with the kindest smile say, "now isn't this easier? why don't you tell me what's wrong?"

[randomidiocyncrazies]

twitter takes on toshiro makes me cry... bro was subjected to microaggressions for 5 HOURS and raised in a high-context culture (where you Do Not say negative things outright), and ppl are still like "no he's just a bad person bc he's mean to my boy laios"

[vickyvicarious]

And yet, if it be true, what terrible things there are in the world, and what an awful thing if that man, that monster, be really in London! I fear to think. I have this moment, whilst writing, had a wire from Jonathan, saying that he leaves by the 6:25 to-night from Launceston and will be here at 10:18, so that I shall have no fear to-night. Will you, therefore, instead of lunching with us, please come to breakfast at eight o'clock, if this be not too early for you?

Mina goes from "if he's in London" -> "I fear to think" -> "Jonathan will be home tonight so I won't fear tonight." It seems like she's worried for him being in the same place as Dracula for the night. Not necessarily because she thinks the Count will hunt him down, though that's always a possibility if he were to spot Jonathan somewhere this time. But at least for Jonathan seeing him and having another fit without her there to take care of him.

So of course Jonathan coming back to her tonight will ease those fears. But also, she's ready for them both to talk with Van Helsing over breakfast tomorrow, which she definitely would not spring on him with no warning. So she is planning on greeting him home and then having the conversation tonight. I want to see it so badly...

[pleasedontcareaboutme]

It's missing my father hours rn so imma just dump a bunch of pictures here and cry

( sorry i don't know the source of anything I just had them on my phone)

(also dont read the tags i just need to let it out lol)

[jasontoddenthusiastt]

The compelling thing about Jason as a character is that I never doubted that he cared about the world just because there weren’t panels of him being overly zealous about “restorative community care”

I’m not coming after anyone who wants to see that kind of stuff, but I do think seeking | that | as confirmation that Jason cares about the world is pretty narrow

[parlerenfleurs]

Starting to think, going by the MXTX fandoms, that a lot of people are comfortable with being a bit terrible and not thriving for an ideal whatsoever, because they really really reeaaally want to believe Xue Yang and Jiang Cheng are poor cuties who weren't lucky and the heroes are a bunch of holier-than-thou arrogant bitches who need to be taken down a peg when the text says the opposite, because then it justifies their own faults and hatred of genuinely awesome people who seem to have it better in life and isn't that sooo unfair and isn't it fair that they should suffer to learn what it's like to suffer like them, poor tortured, petty, flawed humans who see themselves in the villains rather than the heroes.

[thychesters]

but marineford is a tragedy, isn't it. ace was always doomed by the narrative but that doesn't stop one from having hope--doesn't stop from wishing, waiting, watching as ace is freed from his cuffs and thinking now surely they will flee. but no one was ever going to leave marineford unscathed. they were never going to go up against every powerhouse in the marines and win because this wasn't an average run of the mill fleet. this world can be cruel and this isn't a game, and they were never going to leave unchanged by it.

this is a tragedy and the story of suffering, of wishful thinking and wondering if anything could have been done differently, wondering what could have changed, and knowing none of it would ever have. would any other action or inaction have mattered? it was always going to end the same. luffy was always going to go after his big brother to save him, whitebeard and his crew were always going to be there, and ace was always going to leap in front of his little brother to protect him. it's "you promised me you'd never die no matter what" and "thank you for loving me."

at their cores they were never going to change. they were nearly out of the underworld and ace was always going to turn around at the last moment because he could not leave an insult to his father unchecked. akainu was always going to kill one of them and if not ace, luffy, and if not luffy, ace, and if not one of them then the both of them. he was always going to take one and it did not matter which. and it is a tragedy that ripples, not just to luffy, not just to the whitebeard pirates, but beyond. this world was always going to have consequences and ace was always going to die and luffy was always going to go after him. it's knowing how the story ends but continuing regardless because maybe this time it will be different. maybe this time it will be different. it's would haves and could haves and should haves and none of them would have mattered. but what if it could have?

before he's freed ace looks at the crowd who's come to save him and sobs, because after spending his entire life wondering if he deserved to be born, if he's worthy of any of this, ready to die, says that he wants to live. his little brother holds him in his arms and there is blood on his hands and he says "you did great, i'm sorry i couldn't make it to the end with you. i'm sorry i'm going to miss out on seeing you fulfill your dream, but i know you'll make it." luffy clings and ace lets go. he dies just as he lived, even if he didn't realize it: loved and not alone. and so luffy saves his big brother, just not in the way he thought he would, not in the way he wanted to.

[theswedishpajas]

The man truly can’t take a genuine compliment 🙄

[claitea]

volo feeling genuine sympathy for others but feeling the need to deny it and bury it in layers of protective coping mechanisms is like my favorite flavor of characterization for him. on the outside he’s super nice! for about three layers underneath that he’s like hehe i’m so evil 😈 i’m playing this poor sucker for a fool 😈😈 business as usual. and then the final layer at his core is like man this poor kid needs help. man these people seem genuinely happy and close. i can barely comprehend that. wait oops i almost let myself feel an emotion uh back to the evil. his exterior veneer isn’t entirely a veneer- it’s see-through in a couple places. some of them show the evil beneath but some of them show the genuine human deep beneath

YEAH YEAH YEAHHH THIS IS WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT. its a special kind of tragic that volo could have the life he wants now because he's around people that aren't terrible, but he just cannot see that, or refuses to because he's scared of betrayal happening again. if he was just genuine in what he does instead of justifying it with using people before they use him, he'd be fine. but no, he's gotta self-sabotage himself at every turn

[itspileofgoodthings]

my romantic self-esteem is just absolutely rock-solid. for whatever reason!

[right-there-ride-on]

Gyjo in the fandom

cw: light discussion of ableism

Gyjo… what am I thinking about gyjo…

I like them. I like them a lot, actually. They have paralleled narrative arcs, they complement each other nicely, the romantic subtext is incredibly obvious to the point that even the most homophobic fan you know will admit they understand why people ship it… so why do I also have a problem with it?

There’s a lot of good fanart. Hell, I’ve reblogged plenty. Maybe it’s just something that’s more pronounced in fic.

I’m trying to word this correctly. My issue with gyjo has nothing to do with the text itself. I think my problem is just how people portray it in the fandom.

Maybe it’s because it’s so popular, or maybe it’s the sheer prominence of applying ‘Character A’ and ‘Character B’ dynamics without considerable regard for the characters involved, but I feel gyjo is very prone to flanderization. I believe the intersection with how ableist people are toward Johnny (intentionally or not, subtly or not) and the old tropes these two get shoved into makes it so I have trouble enjoying fics in the fandom.

I’m not saying it’s bad to enjoy certain tropes. I’m not saying headcanons are bad either. What I am saying is that writing is hard, but if you’re going to write fanfiction please have consideration for the characters you’re writing. The arcs of these two are complex and multilayered, which is why I think they have such staying power, but I also think they also provide a good opportunity for us as writers and artists to examine our biases when it comes to the portrayal of certain groups, personality types, mental illnesses, queerness, disability, etc. and maybe come out better people for it.