#it was fun to write all this stuff out

[tylidae]

A I L U R A N T H R O P Y 1 0 1

[confessedlyfannish]

Writing Prompt #12

Bruce is reading the paper when the pour of Tim's coffee goes abruptly quiet. It would be hard to pinpoint why this is disturbing if it wasn't for the way the soft, tinny sound the vent system in the manor makes cuts out for the first time since being updated in the 90s. The pour, Bruce realizes, has not slowed to a trickle before stopping. It has simply stopped. And there is no overeager clack of a the mug against the marble counter or the uncouth first slurp (nor muttered apology at Alfred's scolding look) immediately following the end of the pour.

Bruce fights the instinct to use all of his senses to investigate, and instead keeps his eyes on the byline of the article detailing the latest set of microearthquakes to hit the midwest in the last week. Microearthquakes aren't an unusual occurrence and aren't noticeable by human standards, which is why this article is regulated to page seven, but from several hundred a day worldwide to several hundred a day solely in the East North Central States, seismologists are baffled.

Bruce had been considering sending Superman to investigate under the guise of a Daily Planet article requested by Bruce Wayne (Wayne Industries does have an offshoot factory in the area) when everything had stopped twenty seconds ago. That is what he assumes has happened (having not moved a muscle to confirm) in the amount of time he assumes has passed. His million dollar Rolex does not quite audibly tick but in the absolute silence it should be heard, which confirms the silence to be exactly that—absolute.

While Bruce can hold his breath with the best of the Olympian swimmers, he has never accounted for a need to remain without blinking without being able to move one's eyes. Rotating the eyeballs will maintain lubrication such that one could go without blinking for up to ten minutes. But staring at the byline fixedly, he estimates another twenty seconds before tears start to form.

These are the thoughts Bruce distracts himself with, because he doesn't dare consider how Tim and Alfred haven't made a (living) sound in the past forty-five seconds. About Damian, packing his bag upstairs for school after a morning walk with Titus that was "just pushing it, Master Damian".

There is a knife to his right, if memory serves (it does). In the next five seconds—

"Your wards and guardian are fine, Mr. Wayne," the deepest voice Bruce has ever heard intones. For a dizzying moment, it is hard to pinpoint the location of the voice, for it comes from everywhere—like the chiming of a clocktower whilst inside the tower, so overpowering he is cocooned in its volume.

But it is not spoken loudly, just calmly, and when he puts the paper down, folds it, and looks to his right, a blue man sits in Dick's chair.

He wears a three piece suit made entirely of hues of violet, tie included. He has a black brooch in the shape of a cogwheel pinned to his chest pocket, a simple chain clipped to his lapel. Black leather gloves delicately thumb Bruce's watch (no longer on his wrist, somewhere between second 45 and 46 it has stopped being on his wrist), admiring it.

"You'll forgive me," the man says with surety. "Clocks are rather my thing, and this is an impressive piece." He turns it over and reveals the 'M. Brando' roughly scratched into the silver back. He frowns.

"What a shame," he says, placing it face side up on the table.

"Most would consider that the watch's most valuable characteristic." Bruce says, voice steady, hands neatly folded before him. Two inches from the knife. To his left, there is an open doorway to the kitchen. If he turns his head, he might be able to get a glance of Tim or Alfred.

He doesn't look away from the man.

"It is the arrogance of man," the man says, raising red eyes (sclera and all) to Bruce, "to think they can make their mark on time."

"...Is that supposed to be considered so literally?" Bruce asks, with a light smile he does not mean.

The man smiles lightly back, eyes crinkling at the corners. He looks to be in his mid thirties, clean-shaven. His skin is a dull blue, his hair a shock of white, and a jagged scar runs through one eye and curving down the side of his cheek, an even darker, rawer shade of blue-purple.

The man turns the watch back over and taps at the engraving. "Let me ask you this," he says. "When we deface a work of art, does it become part of the art? Does it add to its intrinsic meaning?"

Bruce forces his shoulders to shrug. "It's arbitrary," he says. "A teenager inscribes his name on the wall of an Ancient Egyptian temple and his parents are forced to publicly apologize. But runic inscriptions are found on the Hagia Sophia that equate to an errant Viking guard having inscribed 'Halfdan was here' and we consider it an artifact of a time in which the Byzantine Empire had established an alliance with the Norse and converted vikings to Christianity."

"The vikings were as errant as the teenager," the man says, "in my experience." He leans back in his chair. "I suppose you could say the difference is time. When time passes, we start to think of things as artistic, or historical. We find the beauty in even the rubble, or at least we find necessity in the destruction..."

He offers Bruce the watch. After a moment, Bruce takes it.

"The problem, Mr. Wayne, is that time does not pass for me. I see it all as it was, as it is, as it ever will be, at all times. There is no refuge from the horror or comfort in that one day..." he closes his hand, the leather squeaking. And then his face smooths out, the brief severity gone. He regards Bruce calmly.

"You can look left, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce looks left. Framed by the doorway, Tim looks like a photograph caught in time. A stream of coffee escapes the spout of the stainless steel pot he prefers over the Breville in the name of expediency, frozen as it makes its way to the thermos proclaiming BITCH I MIGHTWING. Tim regards his task with a face of mindless concentration, mouth slack, lashes in dark relief against his pale skin as he looks down at the mug. Behind him, Bruce can see Alfred's hand outstretched towards the refrigerator handle, equally and terrifyingly still.

"My name is Clockwork," the man says. "I have other names, ones you undoubtedly know, but this one will be bestowed upon me from the mouth of a child I cherish, and so I favor it above all else. I am the Keeper of Time."

"What do you want from me?" Bruce asks, shedding Wayne for Batman in the time it takes to meet Clockwork's eyes. The man acknowledges the change with a greeting nod.

"In a few days time, you will send Superman to the Midwest to investigate the unusual seismic activity. By then, it will be too late, the activity will be gone. They will have already muzzled him."

"Him."

"There is a boy with the power to rule the realm I come from. Your government has been watching him. The day he turned 18, they took him from his family and hid him away. I want you to retrieve him. I want you to do it today."

"Why me?"

"His parents do not have the resources you do, both as Batman and Bruce Wayne. You will dismantle the organization that is keen on keeping him imprisoned, and you will offer him a scholarship to the local University. You and yours will keep him safe within Gotham until he is able to take his place as my King."

This is a lot of information to take in, even for Bruce. The idea that there could be a boy powerful enough to rule over this (god, his mind whispers) entity and that somehow, he has slipped under all of their radars is as frustrating as it is overwhelming. But although Clockwork has seemed willing to converse, he doesn't know how many more questions he will get.

"You have the power to stop time," he decides on, "why don't you rescue him? Would he not be better suited with you and your people?"

"Within every monarchy, there is a court," Clockwork. "Mine will be unhappy with the choice I have made," he looks at Bruce's watch, head cocked. "In different worlds, they call you the Dark Knight. This will be your chance to serve before a True King."

Bruce bristles. "I bow to no one."

"You'll all serve him, one day," Clockwork says, patiently. "He is the ruler of realms where all souls go, new and old. When you finally take refuge, he will be your sanctuary." He frowns. "But your government rejects the idea of gods. All they know is he is other. Not human. Not meta. A weapon."

"A weapon you want me to bring to my city."

"I believe you call one of your weapons 'Clark', do you not?" Clockwork asks idly. "But you misunderstand me. They seek to weaponize him. He is not restrained for your safety, but for their gain."

"And if I don't take him?" Bruce asks, because a) Clockwork has implied he will be at the very least impeded, at worst destroyed over this, and b) he never did quite learn not to poke the bear. "You won't be around if I decide he's better off with the government."

"You will," Clockwork says, with the same certainty he's wielded this entire conversation. "Not because he is a child, though he is, nor because you are good, though you are, nor even because it is better power be close at hand than afar.

"I have told you my court will be unhappy with me. In truth, there are others who also defend the King. Together we will destroy the access to our world not long after this conversation. The court will be unable to touch him, but neither will we as we face the repercussions for our actions. I am telling you this, because in a timeline where I do not, you think I will be there to protect him. And so when he is in danger, even subconsciously, you choose to save him last, or not at all. And that is the wrong choice.

"So cement it in your head, Bruce Wayne," the man says, "You will go to him because I tell you to. And you will keep him safe until he is ready to return to us. He will find no safety net in me. So you will make the right choice, no matter the cost."

"Or, when our worlds connect again, and they will," his voice now echoes in triplicate with the voices of the many, the young, the old, Tim, Bruce's mother, Barry Allen, Bruce's own voice, "I will not be the only one who comes for you."

"Now," he says, producing a Wayne Industries branded BIC pen. "I will tell you the location the boy is being kept, and then I would like my medallion back, please. In that order."

Bruce glances down and sees a golden talisman, attached to a black ribbon that is draped haphazardly around the neck of his bathrobe, so light (too light, he still should have—) he has not felt its weight until this moment.

Bruce flips the paper over, takes the pen, and jots down the coordinates the being rattles off over the face of a senator. By his calculation, they do correspond with a location in the midwest.

"You will find him on B6. Take a left down the hallway and he will be in the third room down, the one with a reinforced steel door. Take Mr. Kent and Mr. Grayson with you, and when you leave take the staircase at the end of the hallway, not the elevator."

The man gets up, dusts off his impeccably clean pants, and offers him a hand to shake.

"We will not meet again for some time, Mr. Wayne."

Bruce looks at the creature, stands, and shakes his hand. It feels like nothing. The Keeper of Time sighs, although nothing has been said.

"Ask your question, Mr. Wayne."

"I have more than one."

"You do," Clockwork says. "But I have heard them all, and so they are one. Please ask, or I will not be inclined to answer it."

"What does this boy mean for the future, that you are willing to sacrifice yourself for him?"

There is a pause.

"So that is the one," Clockwork says, after a time. "Yes. I see. I should resolve this, I suppose."

"Resolve what?"

"It is not his future I mean to protect," the man says. "It is his present."

"You want to keep him safe now..." Bruce says, but he's not sure what the being is trying to say.

"I am not inclined," Clockwork repeats, stops. His expression turns solemn, red eyes widening. In their reflection, Bruce can see something. A rush of movement too quick to make heads or tails of, like playing fast forward on a videotape. "Superman reports no signs of unusual seismic activity. With nothing further to look into, you let it go in favor of other investigative pursuits. You do not find him, as you are not meant to. He stays there. His family, his friends, they cannot find him. His captors tell him they have moved on. He does not believe them, until he does. He stays there. He stays there until he is strong enough to save himself."

Clockwork speaks stiffly, rattling off the chain of events as if reading a Justice League debrief. "He is King. He will always be King. He is strong, and good, and compassionate, and he is great for my people because yours have betrayed his trust beyond repair. He throws himself into being the best to ever Be, because there is nothing Left for him otherwise. We love him. We love him. We love him. My King. Forevermore."

The red film in his eyes stall out, and Bruce is forced to look away from how bright the image is, barely making out a silhouette before they dull back to their regular red.

"I am not inclined," Clockwork says slowly, "To this future."

"Because of what it means in the present," Bruce finishes for him. "They're not just imprisoning him, are they."

"They will have already muzzled him."

Clockworks is right in front of him faster than he can process, fist gripping the medallion at his neck so tight he now feels the ribbon digging into his skin.

"Unlike you, Mr. Wayne," and for the first time, the god is angry, and the image of it will haunt Bruce for the rest of his life, "I do not believe in building a better future on the back of a broken child."

"Find him," the deity orders, and yanks the necklace so hard the ribbon rips—

Clack!

"sluuuuurp!"

"Master Timothy, honestly!"

"Sorry Alfred!"

[numberonetribble]

For a guy who talks a lot, he sure did a good job keeping this one a secret.

Once Piston is discovered, everyone assumes it's just some kid B-127 found out while on a scouting mission. Until one day Piston slips up and calls B-127 "carry" in front Wheeljack. Everybody starts placing bets, Hound being the number one suspect due to the green but it's not him. Piston was sparked right before Breakdown was conscripted into the Decepticons as a Stunticon, B-127 never had the chance to tell him.

B-127 never tells anybody, not even Piston. He just smiles. No one asks this of them, but growing up in the Autobot base, surrounded by suffering and war, Piston naturally wants to be apart of the fight. They develop an unhealthy hatred towards Decepticons, especially after what happens between B-127 and Megatron. Piston is utterly consumed by grief watching Cybertron crumble around them.

[Piston is in a crate as everybody knows to look for B-127 in Sublevel-50 so he can't keep them there. He visits often to let them out. They don't like the crate.]

Okay! So I've been thinking about writing a pregnancy journey fic of Earthspark Bumblebee and it got me thinking about how different B-127's would be. ES!Bumblebee is surrounded by people who love him and take care of him while he goes through the most excruciating thing in his life, yet he's worried non-stop. The whole fic is about his stress, the secret stress everyone else is feeling as there's several complications. Relationship stress, new parent stress, Piston is placed in a maturation tube, Bumblebee's body shuts down, etc, etc, but everything works out! Piston grows up in a positive environment, they know they're loved and are a goofy lamb. Despite everything that will happen to them, they get forgiven for their actions.

In TF One, B-127 is entirely alone. He can't tell anybody and due to Piston growing so quickly, he has to figure it out. B-127 finds a small cave to crawl in and removes Piston himself. But the two have to remain hooked up connected together, B-127 using himself as a battery. He's dying in slow motion, watching his Sparkling slowly come to life. The whole fic no words are said, everything is B-127's train of thought while this is happening. We'd follow him as he finds the cave, sets up what he needs, make decisions on what parts of himself to put in low power mode, think up a lie to tell base why he disappeared for a week. Ultimately ending up stuck in an odd position on the ground trying to will himself awake long enough to see Piston come online.

(As promised by Alpha Trion, there was the T-cog, nestled perfectly in their chest. It was the most beautiful thing B-127 had ever seen. If he wasn't so weak he could've cried. "We really were, " he thought, "You really are. ")

The imagery of B-127 laying on the cave floor like a broken toy, chest plating removed and spark chamber exposed to the world with all these cables running out of him into Piston, oh it knocked me out. Piston is a nervous lamb who gets battled hardened and can not be forgiven despite how hard they try.

[liauditore]

Equally Invalid

[sergle]

man, you know, nobody asked me, but I have such conflicting opinions on some of the fat falin art, where on one hand: it's always nice to see A Fat Body in fanart anywhere + it's being done in positive ways, for funsies and on the other hand, there is something so familiar about how you are automatically The Fat One if you are a woman simply standing next to a more petite woman, bc I've had a 0% hitrate in seeing people change Marcille's body type and keep Falin's, or change both of them. it's just Falin

[monocaelia]

fragile.

' you have broken down my defenses, and i don’t really resent it. ' - vita sackville west

in which you really don't want to care about him and his careless attitude, but you always find yourself coming back to him. always. feat. diluc ragnvindr & gn!reader w.c : 5k warnings : childhood friends to lovers, diluc lore spoilers, minor angst but ends w fluff, diluc ragnvindr. note : happy new year! sorry for the delay hehe, but this is for @seraphiism's 2023 collab event !! please support the other authors and enjoy the fic ^^

your mother had always instructed you to stay close to her side, to never stray far away from her lest you find yourself in trouble with the master of the winery or the other servants working the orchards and tending to the land of the estate.

but with a beautiful land of ripe grapes and friendly staff greeting you as you rush past them, how could you ever just sit still beside your mother as she did her job around the winery?

the late summer breeze rushes past your face as you weave through the wooden stakes holding the wiry vines of grapes above you. the warm sun rays heat your skin as you leap over the small rocks that litter the passage leading into the main area of the ragnvindr estate. the wind whispers in your ear, making you grin as your little legs take you wherever it guides you.

you feel free, the wind pushing past your wings to lead you to your newest adventure around the manor.

your feet land firmly on the grounds behind the manor when you hear the gentle sniffles coming from behind a couple of barrels. despite your mother's warnings echoing in your head, you take gentle steps towards the sound as curiosity takes over.

you're not expecting to see a young boy with fiery red hair and matching eyes that hold the warmest, flickering fire glaring up at you with tears at the corner of his eyes and holding a bleeding knee.

"...are you okay?" you ask, kneeling down beside him. you begin to frown when he pulls his knee away from you and his glare deepens.

"i don't need your help," the young boy hisses at you and you roll your eyes.

"really? you don't need my help even though you're crying in a corner all by yourself?" you scoff at him. he doesn't say anything in retaliation and you take it as an okay for you to help him.

you pull a handkerchief from your pocket; nothing too fancy as your family couldn't afford the finest silks like the nobles could. it's cotton, white, and had a simple design of a little sparrow emroidered in the corner.

"i don't have any bandages on me," you mumble softly. your little fingers gently wrap the handkerchief around the young boy's knee several times before tying a small knot on it. without even blinking, you lean down to kiss the wounded knee.

"what are you doing?!" the young boy exclaims, yanking his knee away.

"kissing it better," you say as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "my mother always does that when i get hurt. she says it takes the pain away and makes it heal faster."

"that's stupid," the boy mumbles with a glare.

"says the one who tripped and fell and hurt himself," you argue back. you stick your tongue out when the boy shouts out a 'hey!' and roll your eyes.

"who are you and what are you doing here anyways?" you ask the young boy, kneeling beside him once more. he's still glaring at you, but it's less hostile than it was a few moments ago. "my mom said strangers aren't allowed to be here."

the young boys eyes are red, vibrantly so. the life in them burn brightly, reminding you of a fire as it flickers with warmth and a promise of a brighter tomorrow. like the hearth of a fireplace, the young boy seems to be the incarnate of warmth itself with the way he's filled with the flame of life.

"i live here, dummy," he quips back at you with a frown and your eyes widen.

"really? i've never seen you around, and i've been everywhere on this estate," you reply, bringing your thumb and forefinger to your chin as you remain deep in thought. truly, the only people you've managed to catch were all adults working for the master of this winery. never once have you seen a kid running along.

with a bright smile of your own, you lean towards the young boy. "we should be friends! since i don't know anyone else to play with here, we can play!"

the boy looks you up and down with furrowed brows, but he slowly nods. "...okay," he mumbles and you grin brighter.

"great! what's your name then? i'm-"

your name is shouted as hurried footsteps rush towards you. your mother pulls you aside as she looks at the young boy in front of you with panicked eyes.

"young master, i'm so sorry if my child said or did anything to hurt you," your mother says in a rush. she pushes your head down to bow in front of the young boy. she hisses something into your ear and you stutter out your own apology too, even if you did nothing wrong.

you find out the young boy you helped earlier that day was the son of the nobleman your mother works for, diluc ragnvindr. apparently, he's some big deal because he's the young master, but what kind of big deal hurts himself and hides between the barrels instead of asking for help?

you huff as you kick your feet sitting down by your bedside. because of the whole debacle, your mother had ordered you to stay inside to prevent even more debacles from happening even if you explained that the young master getting injured was not your fault. the sun shining from your windowsill feels so far away as you stare outside and ponder what to do.

until you hear a light pattering sound come from your window.

your curiosity is piqued as your small frame approaches the glass panes, wide eyes peeking over the wooden frame as your eyes scan the scenery.

the foliage of the trees surrounding your home cast shadows over your house with small animals running back and forth from the greenery above, causing the rustling of the leaves. the sun trickles in through the gaps of the leaves and your eyes settle on the boy with red hair standing outside your window, a small rock in his hand.

there's a proper bandage on his knee now as it was properly dressed, and his fiery eyes meet yours. he looks hesitant at first, but his brows furrow and his lips open to prepare to speak.

"...come outside and play with me," he tells you when you push open the window in your bedroom, a slight pout in his voice.

"you got me in trouble," you reply shortly, "and now i'm stuck inside because of you."

the young boy bites his lip, pondering what he could do or say to make things better. from the way he's thinking hard enough for you to see steam coming out of his ears, you could tell that he was trying really hard to think of anything to say.

"i'm sorry," he mumbles, kicking the dirt with his shoe.

"sorry, what was that?" you ask, holding your ear out.

the young master huffs, his cheeks puffed out in annoyance. he stomps his foot before-

"i said 'i'm sorry'!"

you smile at him smugly before crossing your arms on the windowsill. it was amusing to see the supposed young master like this; for such a renowned young boy, he was such a cry baby.

"okay, i can't go outside, but we can still play inside if that's okay," you tell him with a bright smile. "i'll let you in!"

"diluc..." he says, red eyes meeting yours. he reminds you of a fire with the way he's looking at you; so full of life but almost burning you if you get him too riled up. but the flames are tame now compared to the anxious flickers you saw earlier before he apologized.

"okay; i'll let you in then, diluc!"

ever since that warm summer, you and diluc have been inseparable; every afternoon is spent exploring the land of the winery but never straying far enough to get lost or end up on the other side of the lake where monsters lurk.

you were there the evening master crepus brought home another young boy around your age home; his blue hair reminding you of the blueberries your mother bought from mondstadt for you to eat. it was a bit of an adjustment with another young boy to play with, but soon you got along well with him as well.

his bright blue eyes always sparkling as you invite him to play alongside diluc and his little hand held in yours. he reminded you of the stars above with the way his eyes twinkle with youth and reflect the night sky above you when the three of you snuck out of your homes to stargaze with your hands holding onto each other until the morning sun began to rise over the horizon.

with your hands held tightly with diluc's and kaeya's, your youth together was only just beginning.

it's a cool morning where the early frost is beginning to melt as the sun continues to rise over the horizon, spreading her warmth and love across the fields of dawn winery. the young master has been gone for a couple days now; something about some sort of knight exam or whatever happening in the city of mondstadt. you would have gone with him, but your duties lie in caring for the winery whilst your friends head off to the heart of mondstadt to finish their training and hopefully become part of the knights of favonius that crepus ragnvindr had always encouraged them to be a part of.

you know having their father's praise meant a lot to your dear friends and you could only hope for the best for both diluc and kaeya as they were off doing their duties.

your ears perk as your name is shouted through the winery along with the sound of hooves rapidly against the dirt road. over in the distance, you can make out a red haired young man galloping over on his steed at near full speed. with wide eyes, you try to tell him to slow down before you get trampled and-

"oof!" you groan as a heavy body slams into you, both his weight and warmth tackling you to the ground. you're thankful that his arms cradled your head as you both go tumbling into the dirt road underneath you and the only pain was that of your body against the floor.

you don't even get to question why diluc had tackled you to the floor when he pulls his face away from you, giving you a clear view of his expression. he's smiling brightly, a wide grin on his face and his eyes of rubies twinkling brighter than any flame you've ever seen. the flames of his soul flicker brilliantly in his excitement and you can't help your own match his energy.

"i got in!" diluc says, his boyish smile growing wider. the small divots in his cheeks are cute and evidence of how hard he was grinning at the news. "i passed the trials got to do the oath swear and- oh, i wish you could've been there!"

despite growing up into a more mature-ish teen, it is moments like these where you're reminded that even as time passes and he grows taller than you, diluc is still the bright eyed boy that you've known since you were young. he looks so cute, in an endearing way, when he eagerly tells you all about his trials and how tough they were.

you really hope that the young master stays the same as he is now.

with a gentle hand, you reach up to ruffle his hair; it's soft to the touch and your eyes don't miss the way diluc pauses in his excitement as your fingers weave into his hair. you assume it's because he's not used to your praise and brush it off, even as he leans into your touch and waits for your words.

"why don't we head inside first? i want to hear everything that happened, but inside where it's warm and comfortable rather than on the dirt floor, diluc," you say to him, a slight lilt in your voice. you laugh softly when you see his cheeks flush a little in embarrassment before he gets off of you.

"i apologize, i was just so eager to tell you," diluc says softly, reaching down to offer a hand to you. you take his hand; you can feel the natural warmth emanating from his body through his gloves and, before you know it, you've been pulled up from the ground. his arm wraps around your waist to assure that you're balanced as you stand up.

"i just," diluc begins. you watch him as the young master of the winery averts his gaze briefly before he meets yours, warm rubies enveloping you with nothing but the comfort he holds for you ever since you were both younger.

"i wanted you to be the first person i told and to tell you."

a wave of something pleasant washes over you knowing that diluc, the heir of dawn winery and one of the most hardworking and talented man in all of mondstadt, rushed back home on horseback in the early hours of this chilly morning just to announce the news to you in person.

just so he could be your first in regards to his good news.

you laugh softly as something warm settles into the pit of your heart, squeezing his hand in yours as you tug him towards the main mansion of the winery estate with no intentions of letting his go for the time being.

even with the budding flowers of youth begin to bloom and the happiness that was promised to you has yet to come, you would have never expected for the spring of your youth to end so abruptly.

it happened all so quickly; crepus ragnvindr wielding a delusion, his death and the anger of diluc exploding, and the fall of your friendship with kaeya and diluc.

you weren't given the details of either one's situation, just a witness of a near death experience and the unforgiven apologies spewing from kaeya's lips as he held his injured eye in the midst of the rain washing down on them as if mourning both the loss of crepus ragnvindr and the wound wedged deep between the relationship of the ragnvindr brothers.

it was like in a mere second, the once warm diluc that would blush and hold your hand so delicately had been wiped away and replaced by a diluc grieving the loss of his father as the flames of his anger and betrayal of both his own brother and the knights of favonius for trying to brush the murder of his father under the rug explode and engulf his entire being.

he doesn't even give you a proper goodbye, leaving only a letter dedicated to you and his vision dimly glowing on his nightstand behind.

it feels like a fever dream when you hear the news of diluc finally returning after all of these years. you don't even hear it from the man himself; rather, from the whispers and excited chatter that the master of dawn winery had returned home.

part of you is excited at the news that he's alive; with no news of his existence after he ran from home in search of the truth behind his father's death other than the faint glow and warmth radiating from his vision clutched in your hands when you missed and worried for him, you were ecstatic knowing that he truly was home now.

that he's alive and breathing and still with you.

and yet, another part of you twinges in pain that he didn't come to you and announce that he was home. he had left you without even a single goodbye, not even bothering to visit you and explain his situation before leaving you questioning whether or not he even cared about how you felt about him.

of course, you aren't entitled to being the first to know, but after growing up together and usually being the first to know of everything in your youth, your heart aches knowing you were one of the last to hear of this at the winery.

it doesn't help knowing that you have not even caught a glimpse of diluc after his supposed return.

so imagine your surprise coming home one evening, the cool night air biting against your skin as you return home after a long day's work, seeing a figure leaning against your home.

at first, your blood turns cold as your heart races in your ears; it couldn't be anyone bad... the winery is a safe place and any suspicious figures are dealt with accordingly before they even step close to the winery grounds. you don't even have anything to defend yourself against if they did happen to be someone with malicious intent.

you take a step back to turn tail back to the estate but freeze when you begin to recognize the figure outside your door; red curls resembling that of flames flickering in the air and warm ruby eyes that you could recognize anywhere. despite standing in the dim evening light and having only the glow of the lantern outside of your home, you could make out the injuries through his dark clothing.

just what did he get himself into?

you hesitate at first, but eventually let your instincts take control as you begin to walk over to your home. it's as if you were both in the blooming stages of your youth again, bringing diluc home to mend his wounds after training for the knight exams.

caring for him was like muscle memory to you, even after all of the events leading to him leaving you in the dust.

you don't say a word as you open the wooden door and guide diluc in, pulling out a chair by the fireplace. wordlessly, he sits in it as you leave to prepare to clean his wounds.

your fingers shake ever so slightly as you remove diluc's coat from his shoulders, the heavy fabric falling to the floor with a thud. you apologize softly as you begin to unbutton his shirt and, as each button is undone and reveals more of his skin, your fingers begin to flinch every time your skin brushes against the skin of his chest.

his breath is warm, you can feel it against your skin as you slide off the remaining clothes on his torso. his chest is bare to you, and normally you would be gawking at how much he has physically changed since you were younger. but you cannot help but stare at how much he had been injured in the last few years you have seen him.

aside from the scratches from the most recent scuffle which led him to your quaint home beside his manor, scars litter his chest and arms. although most of them are healed, the damage that he had experienced was still evident on his skin and you hold back a gasp at how deep some of them had been; there's a huge scar that runs diagonally from the top of his chest to his stomach and you could already feel your stomach churning at the pain.

you couldn't imagine having to sustain those injuries for so long, and being alone through it all.

and, now, you hope that the injuries currently on his body heal faster knowing that he isn't alone this time. not when he has you by his side.

diluc's eyes burn holes into your skull as he watches you dip a towel into the bucket of warm water at your side; you pretend to ignore him. twisting the soaked cloth to rid it of the excess water, you gently begin to clean the wounded man in front of you.

a man you consider an old friend, but you fear he doesn't hold the same sentiment. not anymore.

it's quiet, the only sound shared between the two of you being the occasional sound of the towel dumped back into the bucket and the crackling of the fireplace in your living space. the moon casts her illuminating rays through the window of your home, but her light is nothing compared to the comfort of the fire in your home.

the comfort of the man in front of you, even if you didn't want to ever admit it to him now.

the glass jars containing the disinfecting ointment for diluc's wounds clink gently as you open them to spread over his skin.

"why are you helping me?" his voice breaks the thick silence between you two. his sudden question makes your hands pause, but you don't raise your head as you think of something to reply.

"and let an old friend bleed to death outside my door? you think i'm that heartless, diluc?" you ask him. your fingers resume their previous job of slathering the medicine over his new wounds. "i could say the same to you, why show up to my house like this?"

another silence follows your words and you assume he's done interrogating you for your kindness to him.

"i had nowhere else to turn to," diluc says after a while. your eyes catch his fists tighten on his lap as he takes another breath. "you've shown me nothing but kindness even after i was so cruel to you."

you exhale softly at his words. of course he thinks dealing with his own problems this entire time was the worst thing he could do to you. if you were being honest, it did hurt when he seemingly pretended you didn't exist or pushed you away when he had returned home from whatever he was dealing with away from mondstadt.

you had hoped for a joyful reunion, one filled with tears as you finally welcome home your old friend. but he never announced when he was coming home and you only figured out through the grapevine. he was never home when you looked for him and when you finally caught a glimpse of him, your eyes would meet for barely a second before he rushed off elsewhere and leaving you in the dust.

according to kaeya, his brother whom you've kept in touch with throughout the years. diluc had changed even more ever since his return; he kept his feelings to himself and his face remained 'constipated,' as per kaeya's words, due to his inner turmoil.

but from everyone else, he had always been so kind to them. the old women in the city would always praise how gentle the young master was, helping them walk across the city or carrying their groceries if they needed it. the young women also constantly swooned over how mysterious, yet warm-hearted diluc was; seemingly cold in nature but treating children and animals with such tenderness.

"it did hurt knowing you were ignoring me," you confess as your fingers begin to unravel the gauze to wrap over his wounds. "even if you wanted everyone to think you've changed and have become cold and guarded, i know you're still the same caring boy i've known since we were young. i hope so, at least."

his skin is warm to the touch, another feature you realize has never changed about your old friend. with bated breath, you lift your head to let your gaze finally settle on diluc's own. just as you predicted, despite the physical changes, you can still see the diluc you once knew within the scarred and older man in front of you.

diluc has definitely gotten older; the baby fat on his face slimming down slightly to reveal a more defined jaw and the bags under his eyes were evidence of his restless nights away from mondstadt. there are light scars on his face, nothing too deep to keep from his princely demeanor but are definitely proof of a troubling journey, and he has grown taller than the last time you had seen him in your youth.

but one thing that has never changed is the fire the lights up his eyes. so red and warm, you're tempted to hold his face in your hands to get a closer look. they're so vibrant, alive like the embers that flicker in the fireplace that lights your home, as they stare back at you in anticipation of your next words.

"you would never intend to hurt me on purpose. so if i should have to wait forever for you to be ready to come to me like you've had in the past, i don't mind doing so."

diluc's stoic expression wavers at your words. a sliver of guilt shines in his eyes and he looks away briefly as he digests the words you've spoken to him.

he couldn't tell you the reasons why he always kept you at arm's length; was he wary of your intentions for always being kind to him despite how he treated you or was he so used to people close to him lying to his face that he feared you were also pulling a facade?

or was he scared of you sharing the same fate as his family should he loved you with his heart on his sleeve, a fate of being held in his arms as he feels the warmth that once comforted him when you were young fade away like the embers in the hearth of a fireplace?

diluc did not want to know and he did not need to know, not when you're looking at him with such trust and compassion that he finds it hard to even hold any distrust towards you.

his dear friend from his youth who was always there to pick him up when he fell.

you did not break through the walls shielding diluc's heart for you had already found your place beside it, holding he's life with your gentle hands and protecting his soul's flames with your faith in him.

"i'm sorry," diluc apologizes to you, looking into your eyes. one of your hands is grabbed to be held by him, rough and scarred and so calloused as it held the memories and grief of what he went through to become like the man in front of you, the gauze held in your other. his warmth seeps into your skin, heating up your skin as the flames of his heart grow and encase your entire being within its embrace.

your lips part to say something, but he continues to speak.

"i thought keeping you away would benefit us both," he takes a breath as his eyes scan over your own features, taking in all that has changed since the last time he saw you in your adolescent years; how much you've grown both physically and emotionally. you look so much more mature than the naughty child who ran around breaking their mother's rules just to play with him or the dear friend who would bicker with him endlessly during their teenage years.

the years of their beautiful youth, years that he wished so dearly he could go back to and live in that peace for eternity.

but while the winds continue to blow and move time along, you've continued to stay the same despite the change.

you're still so kind, so inviting to someone like him.

you treat him like the friend you've remembered in your adolescence, even if his hands were bloodied with vengeance and his heart is scarred and wounded from betrayal and deceit.

he is still diluc, just diluc in your bright and beautiful eyes; he always had been.

his hands squeeze yours tightly, hoping that he has the courage to say what he wants to say.

"i don't deserve your kindness, or your love. but if i imagine a life where i have succeeded in pushing you away and we no longer talk," diluc begins, the fire in his eyes wavering as they hold your gaze.

"i don't think i would ever want to live a life where you're not in it."

diluc's words shake you to your core; it's something you wouldn't expect him to say now after all these years. as much as you want to immediately forgive him and push back the years of agony, waiting for any sign that he was alive while leaving his vision behind, or even watching as he ignores you despite being home after all these years, your heart aches knowing knowing he even did this to you in the first place.

"how can i know that you won't leave me like you did?" your voice is small despite being so close to him. in fear of having him see how much his actions have affected you, you face tilts down to your lap to avoid his gaze. "i can't just wait for you forever, it hurts sitting here all these years with a promise i don't even know if you'll keep."

you take a shaky breath as you speak again.

"you didn't even say goodbye."

your voice breaks as you say those words and you can feel the burning sensation as the tears threaten to spill over your eyes.

there's a moment of silence between the two of you before you hear him gently call out your name. his free hand reaches up to cup your face, tentatively guiding you to face him. he says your name again, softly as if even saying your name too harshly would cause you to break, and you hesitantly meet his gaze.

there's a tenderness that you recognize deep in those fiery pools in his eyes, one that flickers like the hearth of your fireplace and suddenly you feel like you're experiencing the most beautiful yet fleeting moment in life once more. diluc's thumb gently presses against your cheek to wipe away any tears that overflowed from your already wet eyes.

his pinky links with your own, a childish thing to do but one that you still hold dear to your own heart.

a promise between the two of you bathed in firelight and your youth reflected back at you in the shape of the young man sitting before you.

[fox-guardian]

[ID: A digital sketchpage of Colin Becher from The Magnus Protocol on a gray background. He is a thin white man with a receding hairline and a blonde mullet that is very long in the back, tied into a low ponytail. He also has a mustache, patchy facial hair, body hair, and blue eyes. In four out of five sketches, Colin is wearing silver stud earrings, rectangular glasses with yellow lenses, a yellow t-shirt under a light blue button down, a light brown zip-up hoodie, blue jeans with brown knee patches, blue and white striped socks, brown sneakers, and bracelets including a braided one with pink and burgundy threads. On the right, there's a shoulder-up sketch of Colin with his body facing to the side while he turns his head to the viewer, looking angry. Below that is a far less detailed doodle of him on all fours like some kind of creature. On the far left is a shoulders-up sketch of him leaning against his hand looking tired with one eyebrow raised. Below that is a drawing of him facing away from the viewer on all fours looking under something with a little dark smudge above him denoting annoyance. In the middle is a full-body drawing of him posed as though sitting with one leg bent as he holds a game controller. He is wearing his glasses and earrings, as well as a white crop top that says "slut.exe" in blue text, yellow underwear, and blue and white thigh-high socks. He looks focused but also relatively relaxed. end ID]

~~~~

normal about that IT manager

and yes whenever i draw him with striped socks i need you all to know that they're the programmer socks. alice gave them to him mostly as a joke but he actually loves them and that's one reason they're buds in my mind

[opopsums]

HI eheheh I DONT KNWO HOW TO PURROPERLY ADVERTISE THIS BUT UHM

I WAS KINDA (barely) IN THE DDVAU CHRISTMAS ZINE which you should totally take a looksie at all the amazing wonderful art and stories in there

dear every artist and writer and all the mods and organizers involved in the zine I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH YALL DID SO WELL EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU

READ THE ZINE HERE<<<<—

and heres my trash little scrap of art i did and my dearest friend @maplesushimc colored it so beautifully GO CHECK OUT ITS TTttwitter i dont know if it uses tumblr much thats mb ANYWAY

tada heres the art lalala awh theyre so cute wowowow !!!

thanks to doody kitsuneisi and maruu for DDVAU/DOUBLE HEARTED

happy holidays everyone 🫶

[luckyartdrawer]

(Bitter) Sweet! Art & Drabble

For @divinit3a Café Lunch Rush prompt list! There's still plenty of time before the first prompt is due (Jan 12th), and there's 2 other prompts as well for the month! Definitely check it out lovelies! <3

Drabble name: Instability Of The Heart Contents: Sun x reader, Heavy Pinning, Bitter Sweetness Chosen Words: Clouds, Opals, Celebration, Star-crossed, Letting Go, Hope, Candle Word Count: 1,625

(Close Ups are also at the bottom <3)

It’s been a whole year…

Unsure how to approach the festivities now, Sun decided to find a quiet spot instead, spending all morning setting things up to participate in his own way. He couldn't not join in, but it just wouldn't be right to go back into the thick of it either.

The not-too-far-off town square, only a mile below his expanse of cloud, is alive in the lieu of celebration. The live orchestra plays the same casual songs, their passion dying the expanse of clouds they rest upon pink with their infectious energy, and the music drifts up clear as day to his ears despite the distance. The community brightens at each strum of a chord, chatter so lively that they create lyrics to their own song. They all are so alight that even once the sun sets, not even a single candle will be necessary to keep the festival bathed in a warm glow.

Sun sighed as he looked towards his namesake, feeling both relief and dread seeing it only moved a little since he last checked, located slightly past the center of the sky above him. Any moment now the square should clear its center and engage in its Hearthwarming Dance.

A spark crackles in his chest, sending longing pangs to his heart and head. It swirls through the burning magma and dips through every ligament, the tips of his fingers and toes buzzing with the itch to do something.

He turns to his partner, waiting for the first note of the new song to swell before grabbing their soft hand and whispering,

“May I have this dance?”

Without his usual banter, Sun embraces them and sways to the familiar beat without hesitation.

Upon closing his eyes, he is suddenly not dancing on a patchy field of clouds, but rather upon a lively opal plaza shimmering in the warm sunlight; the polished stone reflecting all those lovely pink clouds to create a mosaic, speckled with a rainbow of beautiful color.

Yet, the way you shined changed everything. It had completely ruined his view of beauty.

Your smile glistened through the sheer cloud of stardust that orbits around your form. Your eyes were as hypnotic as the ring of light you absorb, blindingly white before turning into a pitch black that's impossible for him to comprehend. He could barely even remember what you wore that day, too busy memorizing your face.

You were a star that had gone supernova, a rarity unseen for the last 3 centuries, let alone for a star of your kind.

Even the thought of your imagery causes him to inhale sharply. He clutches at his partner tightly, mindless of the give as he steps around in a traditional dance.

You were so scared when the change happened all those months ago...

Sun had found you holed up in your dark room, begging him to not look at you. He had initially come over to barge down your door for being an hour late to meet him, only to find your home was unlocked. It wasn't too unusual, so he welcomed himself inside, used to doing so after years of friendship.

His bitterness over how you kept him waiting for so long evaporated at finding your tearful state, almost unrecognizable if it weren't for your usual wear and voice.

He's still ashamed to say that he was enraptured by you despite the state you were in.

You were a glimmering dwarf star before, enchanting enough as is, and yet somehow you turned into something even more bewitching, compounding his years of desire into something even stronger. It felt right. Not to see you sad, but to see you in that form. Everything about it felt like you. The pull was indescribable in every step he took, the very essence of you invading his senses.

As soon as he recounts reassuring you, drying your tears, and pulling you into a hug; he snaps back to having you in his arms in the light of day, grasping his right hand and prancing with ease across the square, expertly avoiding other participants.

The magnetic pull is intense, the need to somehow get closer and closer was nearly impossible to ignore. He wanted to run away from such a force, yet he only clutched your hand tighter as he spun you, pulling your back into his chest and locking you there for a beat too long.

He was so afraid that you could read his every move, regardless of knowing your sheer obliviousness to his desires.

You always playfully indulged his yearly insistence of being your dance partner, yet nothing had come of it from either side. But this time, his gaze was constantly locked with yours, unable to break contact. His possessive grip had ensnared you, barely leaving even an inch between you. He couldn't help but pause, disregarding the mass of bodies moving around him, wanting to hold you forever.

How could it not be obvious?

Regardless, he knew it was inevitable he'd spill out his soul to you soon, barely able to restrain his lips from colliding into yours at that very moment.

He hoped, he prayed, he begged like a mantra to the celestial mother that you'd feel the same. That this magnetism isn't so one sided. That restraint would one day be unnecessary and he'd finally be able to drink in the flavor of your kiss.

Only mere seconds had passed when he released you from his hold, continuing the dance as if nothing happened. Perhaps to you, nothing did happen.

Would that explain what had happened?

He spent that whole day with you, following you to vendors with traditional carbon foods and indulging in your proximity as you'd graze hands and bump shoulders on occasion, finally left comfortably alone as the town's people were accustomed to your new appearance by then.

He was more than happy to scoop you up the moment you said you were getting tired and overwhelmed. You insisted that you didn't want the fun to end, but he could tell by the sound of your voice that you at least needed a change of pace.

The sun was setting when he leapt up stray puffs of clouds to the field above the plaza. He pranced in circles, leaping gaps to the dying beats of music, and teasing about dropping you through them when you didn't believe he could cross. Your rivers of laughter only fueled his audacity, as he never wanted to hear them end. Inevitably, his foot barely slipped off the edge of one of his more daring jumps, causing the two of you to fall forward and collide with the cloud beneath you.

Despite the grunt the two of you made at the impact, you were quick to laugh at Sun’s failure, teasing him about his cockiness biting him in the behind.

But Sun couldn't ignore the press of his body on top of yours, the echoing melody of your voice ensnaring his throat, refusing to allow him to even draw breath, let alone words. His mind fogged over, the only reprieve to his pinning troubles all pointed towards you, and he desperately needed that relief.

Your lips were more delicious than he could have ever dreamed of, your endearing expression was wide eyed and glowing.

Glowing so much that he actually had to close his eyes for a moment to recuperate, despite how much he wanted to savor your appearance.

And then with a fluttering blink, he's back in the present, kneeling down in the same position over some sad facimally of you. The cloud he molded this morning was mangled already from his delusions, but due to his fall it had melded into the cloud below it, its pink color feeling more taunting than sweet.

Sun looked down at his hand to find a tiny piece of said cloud still in it, a tear welling up in his eye.

It was too fitting.

In that original moment, it was as if you dissolved right in his arms after that kiss, but he refuses to believe anything bad happened. He searched your home, your favorite places, and even contacted your friends and family. No one knew where you were.

Some believed you to be dead after he finally admitted what happened between the two of you.

He vehemently denied that possibility, despite the plausibility. You were barely older than he was, still spry with centuries of life ahead of you. You couldn't just die from a kiss…

The only spark of hope he was given was when he questioned one of the elder Neutron stars, one of whom recalled personally knowing a singular supernova; one who had been taken suddenly to a world beyond the sky to contain their unstable make up. They had returned only once to explain their departure, before saying goodbye for their next one shortly after.

Sun brought the small puff of cloud to his lips – it should have been your hand.

He couldn't repress the tear that escaped him.

It's been a year since your disappearance. He still hasn't given up on his star-crossed lover, if he may even call you that. Your sudden departure left him wanting, stagnant, unsure of so many things.

If you reciprocated, wouldn't you have come back to him by now..?

Overtime, many have caught onto his depressed demeanor and advised him that it's best to learn to let go.

Preaching that waiting is fruitless.

Denouncing the Neutron’s tall tale of some magical plain snatching you away.

Scolding Sun for ruining his life over some runaway star.

However, he cannot help it; you own all the hope he has left. As he is unfortunately, completely, woefully in love with you.

Close Ups!

[b1asho]

Sundyne fullbody

2nd to last, the big nasty bug lizards!! (Aka sundyne, if you dont want to get kicked across the room)

Here's the evil exposition dump:

Sundyne are under the Cerest label umbrella with Dorest and Rox, but are genetically distinct enough that they aren’t really the same thing.

It’s a commonly held theory among other species that they’re some kind of artificially created Cerest offshoot that went wrong and overtook their creators, but that’s crazy talk and bringing that up around a trad Sundyne is a great way to get snapped at.

They share some things with their Drecu cousins and I would suggest reading their stuff to get the general vibe, but the gist is that Sundyne also have serviceable but poor temperature regulation, their eyes aren’t spherical and are housed in bony cones in their heads, they can see colors that we can’t, they lay eggs and have a similar life stage development cycle,they have extremely sensitive antennas, and they have a mix of endo and exoskeleton/shell.

Their differences are a lot more distinct (obviously) Sundyne are obligate carnivores, for one, and have a lot harder time processing plant matter than Drecu. Their lower mandibles and beak are very sharp and are used to both tear into and hold prey.

When their mouth is closed, these two are pressed together tightly by internal muscles. Along with their little bit of lip and their other mouthparts that fold closely along their face, it gives the impression of their jaw being more like ours (especially when I stylize it and remove all detail >: ) ).

Those internal grabbies are about as strong as a human thumb, and are used to make speaking noises by vibrating them together along with the apparatus in their throat. Those also help to hold/maneuver food without opening the mouth too much (which they see as a threat)

Another difference in their mouth is their tongue, which is housed in a hole along their lower jaw, and its length retracts down their throat.

They use it to strip meat from bone and lick yummy goop out of shell and bone holes.

Their huge eyes function much better at night, and they usually keep them lidded to avoid sensory overload or looking like theyre upset (again, their eyes aren't full spheres in there, and instead are more like weird cylinders that taper as they go back in the skull.)

Like Dorest, all 6 of their fingers on their main hands are separated, though now they are all much larger and longer (at least on this top pair of arms).

Only the claws on their larger top arms are retractable, operating by sliding in and out of a pocket of endoskeleton in their end knuckle.

The smaller bottom arms have a thumb claw like Rox, and none of the shorter and duller on the other fingers are retractable.

Also like Rox, they have a special claw on their foot for kicking stuff, though theirs is much more pronounced and mobile (their other toes are relatively short and also have retractable claws.)

Male Sundyne also have a third pair of 'limbs' that are actually gonopods that fold on their back that they use to carry eggs, another indicator that their genus as a whole may have once had 8 limbs that have since fused or retracted.

Speaking of male, sundyne are not hermaphroditic, with *adults* being distinctly male or female. It's impossible to tell until the first molt after pupation, though.

Sundyne dimorphism is based on this sex difference and it decides their service role in their familial/ societal clans (rather than with Drecu, whose role in the colony decides their sexual role)

Their family units tend to be single dominant reproductive male and female pair, their children, and nonreproductive members.

Traditionally, that dominant pair is decided by whichever is the strongest female and whichever male catches her attention, but modernly and in higher classes there is a lot more linking of clans and inter/extra political and legislative to consider.

The dominant male and female are monogamously bonded, but often switch their single partners a lot for politics etc (though long-held bonds are seen as better) nonreproductive members can have multiple partners and do, but the privilege of eggs is only for that special pair bond.

The closest thing from earth i can say is they're structured a bit like a lion pride or meerkats, though females are the ones who defend the territory while males hunt and rear children once the eggs have been laid/hatched (which is where Rox and Dorest got their child raising roles from)

In any clan, females outnumber males because at a certain age most males are meant to leave and go join another clan. Because of this, the nonreproductive females often assist with resource gathering/some ither male roles (though they're given their own pronoun for this since males are their own special thing)

Males are smaller in height and sleeker, and have more markings on their face/ body (while they look very flashy to us, it helps break up their shape to their colorblind prey).

They also retain one more set of limbs than females: gonopods like Drecu on their back that also help hold their females eggs in place (once the female is ready to lay them, they give them to the male with an ovipositor) .

Females are much larger and more muscular, with fewer markings but often more impressuve crowns of horns. They also don’t have the same external genitalia structure.

The horn things on a female will drop and regrow more based on hormone signals from their social status and/or their environment. On a male, they will not (but they do keep growing constantly)

I keep saying "things" on their head because they're structured sort of like horns but not quite.

Theyre more or less hollow/spongy bone on the inside with a thin sheath covering , more or less permanent, and sort of vascularized and growing for the whole year. BUT they can branch, don’t have a single living core, and they can drop and regrow if damaged enough by the root (kind of just a spongy thing growing out of a bone shoot idk).

Horn damage on a male is seen as extremely unattractive and disgraceful (the long continually grown unbranched ones are the beauty standard since it exemplifies how precious they are)

Females use them a lot more for combat, territoriality, and social status (whereas males use them for defense and social status) so they get cracked more often. If this happens, theyll regrow with some deformation around the sheath. If they get access to a better food source, they’ll also drop and then regrow better and stronger (but smooth and with no tines). For the few reproductive females, they will shed and regrow bigger/stronger horn things with more branches yearly the longer they’re the dominant female as a status symbol. Any horn branches are looked at very favorably on females, but the crooked/unnatural spurs and bumps caused by damage is looked at as a low status symbol since the only reason they’d still have it is if they aren’t dominant enough to get the signals to drop and regrow them the right way.

As for their life cycle, its a lot like Drecu. Egg, little gloopy grub thing, bigger goopy grub thing, prepupa, chrysalis, juvenile adult stage.

However, during pupation adults can’t ‘choose’ the final form of their offspring like Dorest and Rox can. Males are considerably more favored because they leave their home clan to build ties and status in other clans, ultimately expanding the influence of the family and more freely rising in the ranks (they leave, marry in with a female of equal or greater status, and can move up by taking out other males there. a female doesn’t typically leave their birth clan, and could never become the dominant female of their own clan because incest and patricide taboo, and the only way they’d be able to in another clan is if they enter as a nonreproductive and maybe get lucky enough that the dominant female falls out of favor so you can yake her place)

If they had the chance most clans would cull many of the females in their clutches, but since they can’t tell the difference until the age where their kids are legally considered people, it’s harder to do that.

Succession rites for females follow a matriline from the dominant female, but they have their own internal pecking order established through literal and social pecking. If you’re a better fighter or just smarter/more useful, you’ll have a higher status. But if you were born in that clan, you'll never be the dominant female unless the male gets taken out of the equation too, making an opening for a new leader.

Males get their initial status from their pair with a female upon entry to a new clan, but they can actually move up to the dominant position by killing or otherwise removing the previous male. After this, they can choose a new female.

Their biological roles of hunter/nurturer for male and protector/fighter for female translates to their modern sociopolitical roles pretty literally. Males hold power as lawmakers, media makers, educators, and leaders due to their more 'intellectual' domestic role and ability to bridge clans in alliances.

. Though they are physically superior, females become the males protection once they are paired. They hold power within a clan and often in the military or as lower government officials, but outside of the clan their reach is pretty much carrying out and enforcing the orders of their male.

Their dynamic is like a sword and its wielder, or a speaker and their voice, though it is also referenced in their own culture as a male/female pair being “the sun and its moon.” They also take great pride in this binary, seeing it as something that sets them apart/ male and female completing each other to form the perfect whole.

Straying from this is a one way ticket to being either kicked out of the clan, jailed, or killed depending on where you are and who you’re dealing with.

They will enforce it onto any other species they meet (which is part of why Dorest and Rox are rigidly separated by a gender role along with their biological role in the colony, even though they are both sexes)

Sundyne clans are at the tippy top of Cerest society’s order (wirh Seru being the tippy top of the Sundyne exclusive caste, represented by a circle). They oversee their Drecu colonies and use their resources and manpower to expand their territory. This hierarchy is deeply entrenched, with any Drecu within a trad Sundyne structure believing that the Seru are immaculate and powerful beings.

Another conspiracy theory is that back in the early days of Sundyne development they probably preyed on Drecu and infiltrated their colonies through pheromone manipulation, overtaking that territory for their clan. The pheromone thing allows them to influence the general emotions of Cerest around them and give loose instructions, and to stop the instinctive swarm swarm swarm kill kill kill responses Drecu get when they see them (To Drecu, Sundyne look like creepy elongated nightmare versions of themselves, and though this response has largely been bred out most Dorest and Rox still feel an uncanny effect from looking at them. ) again, that's crazy talk though and never happened.

One more to go, and its the funny parasite worm ones

[gallusgalluss]

sorry for not really being active here lately, i've been focusing on college stuff and also decided to suddenly start working on a lil game lol

^ about them btw. their name is MC. they're good at doing stuff.

[demonslayedher]

I finished posting the unabashedly educational Sword Fic.

It includes a detailed (but hopefully beginner-friendly) explanation of all the steps of making a Nichirin blade from a sunny mountain like Mt. Youkou, a touch of swordsmith and metalworker folk lore (including demons), meta about what must make Kimetsu no Yaiba's swordsmithing methods different from real life methods, some character exploration for Haganezuka and his polishing method, vocabulary and additional resources in the chapter notes, and hopefully, an endearing, silly POV character to learn this all through.

[rileys-battlecats]

girl help I started writing down oc thoughts and have started contemplating the logistics of how a city carved into the walls of a ravine would have access to fresh water

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

The fandom can't make up its mind on what's supposed to be a joke and what's supposed to be serious because the show can't either half the time. It's a tonally disjointed mess that wants to have absurd over-the-top humor as well as a plot and moments of drama, romance, and angst that demand you see the characters as people and feel for what they're going through. Except you can't do that without also treating the dumb bullshit in a somewhat grounded way. Like, you're still dealing with the same characters. You can't just go "Oh, that? Let's ignore that!" the moment it's no longer convenient to you. You've opened this can of worms and now you have to sleep in it. So, every character flip-flops between two different versions of themselves depending on what the writers need in any particular scene.

This is not to say surreal humor can't be used right alongside characters you're supposed to empathize with, Teen Titans (not Go) did that and it worked. It's just that the absurdity can only come from the setting (Mad Mod, Mother Mae-Eye, pretty much anything Control Freak is in) or from designated joke characters (Date With Destiny). Teen Titans never had the main characters acting in clearly absurd ways as the butt of a joke unless those characters were brainwashed somehow, because the writers knew that would ruin any of the more grounded moments they wanted to write. The writers of Miraculous missed the memo on that one.

I don't disagree. A perfect example is Derision where the show takes all of the bad jokes about Marinette's crush and decides to take them seriously as if you can possible take them seriously without making Marinette come across as unhinged and dangerous. You can't, which brings us to the topic at hand: how do you even begin to understand these characters when the show is constantly making character-breaking choices?

My approach - and the approach I recommend others take if they're going to keep watching the show - is to focus on the characters' cores and reject anything canon does to violate those cores. I don't argue for this stance because I love the characters so much that I only want the good things to count. I take this stance because, if you don't, then the characters fall apart. There is no way to make them work as fully realized characters while embracing every choice canon has made. Miraculous has massive characterization issues that go well beyond the humor.

For example, Adrien has multiple moments of terrible behavior that are played in a serious manner such as the moment in the episode Frozer where he tries to start a fight with Ladybug in the middle of an akuma attack because she wouldn't accept a rose from him earlier:

Setup

Ladybug: I can't accept this rose from you. I told you already. I'm in love with someone else. Cat Noir: I know, M'lady. But if he weren't here, would things be different between us? Ladybug: Well, you know, I can't even begin to imagine him not being here. I'm sorry, Cat Noir. I really gotta get going, and you better do the same. (Swings her yo-yo to head back home; Cat Noir is sad, looking downwards, with one petal of the rose falling.)

Payoff

Ladyice: Cat Noir. We need to set up a trap for whoever turned the city into a giant ice rink. (throws yo-yo) Icecat: (bitterly) My feline instincts prefer to track and observe before I attack. You go your way, I'll go mine. Ladyice: Please don't tell me you're mad at me about the rose. Icecat: There may be a certain chill now between us. Ladyice: I get it, but we should really focus on saving Paris right now. Icecat: We don't always have to do everything together, after all. It's not like we're a couple. (skates away)

There's no way to argue this off as a bad joke. While Adrien has every right to feel hurt, those feelings don't excuse him acting like a pouting child in the middle of an akuma fight. It doesn't excuse him acting like this at any point! Ladybug is not a villain for telling him no. She wasn't even mean about it!

I clearly fully agree that Adrien looks awful and selfish here, but I'd still argue that it's not something that should be used to define Adrien's character if your goal is to tell the "ideal" version of Miraculous. "Ideal" being the version that canon seems to be going for based on the overall picture we can sort of make out if we back way, way, way up and look at the extremely abstract picture canon is clumsily painting.

Unless canon is going to do something monumentally stupid, Adrien is Marinette's endgame romantic interest. It's also clear that there is no plan to cut him from the team. He's going to be Chat Noir for the rest of his life or at least well into his adulthood. This means that he is supposed to be a good hero who deserves his miraculous just like he's supposed to be a charming and cute romantic lead. These are the two things I keep in mind when trying to shift through canon to figure out what writing choices I should fully embrace and what writing choices I have to either ignore or treat as true flaws that get an actual character arc. In my book, either approach is fine because most of the characters are deeply flawed at this point and you can't give them all arcs without bloating the story to nonsense levels.

My goal with this approach is never to say, "oh, that moment shouldn't count in terms of how people feel about the character." It's more, "that moment goes so hard against who this character is very clearly supposed to be that I can't take it into account if I want to tell the kind of story that Miraculous is trying (and clearly failing) to tell."

As an example, let's list off Adrien's worst behaviors. The things that make him look terrible:

He sucks at communicating his needs and feelings, leading to multiple moments where he gets mad at Ladybug for things she's totally unaware of

He has quit or considered quitting without warning multiple times and only one of those was because of something he did "wrong" (NYC Special)

He puts his feelings before the safety of Paris on multiple occasions, even going so far to purposely miss akuma fights to see what happens

He is incredibly pushy about his crush, often ignoring Ladybug's feelings on the topic by continuing to bring it up even after she asked him to stop

There have been multiple instances where he almost cataclysmed multiple people in a fit of anger

His love for Ladynette isn't strong enough to let him break free of things like akumas and nightmare dust even when he's looking her in the eyes making him a pretty crappy romantic lead

People will argue that some of this behavior makes sense for his character because of the abuse that canon has technically introduced, but that the writers seem blissfully unaware of. I don't disagree with that argument, but that doesn't change the fact that none of this is acceptable behavior for a hero and Adrien is a hero who keeps doing these things. A sad backstory doesn't give you the right to behave poorly without consequences.

At the same time, if I fully embrace these elements of canon, what I get is an Adrien salt fic where he loses his miraculous for good while Marinette finds her real true love or even just a non-salty fic where Adrien leaves for his own meatal health and gets replaced by someone who can handle being a hero right now. Canon's not writing either of those, so the only way to engage with these flaws while enjoying canon or aiming for the same end goals as canon is to say, "I guess this doesn't count" or "I guess I need to tone this way down and work through it via a character arc" or even "I guess that was just a bad joke maybe?"

That is the essence of what I mean when I call myself a writing salt, character sugar blog. It comes from looking at canon and seeing that there's simply no way to embrace the worst moments and the best at the same time. We're not dealing with a coherent plot and/or complex characters. We're dealing with a nonsense plot that will warp the characters to bizarre shapes to make random ideas work even if those idea go wildly against canon's end goals.

As an example, Glaciator and Frozer should not exist in the same universe or, at the very least, something should explain why Chat Noir randomly changed his stance on Ladybug's crush from acceptance to pushiness. As is, the pieces don't fit together. The behavior is too contradictory. Remember, this is how Glaciator ends:

Perhaps Ladybug will love me someday. I mean, like, I love her. I have to believe. In the meantime, her friendship is the best gift of all.

Where did this version of Adrien go? Why did he regress in Frozer? There's no in-universe reason. It happened because the writers weren't ready to let the love square date or grow close, but they also wanted the love square to cause drama, so Adrien ends up looking terrible just like Marinette ends up looking terrible when it's her turn to cause love square drama. Her terribleness takes a different flavor so it can be hard to realize that this is a systemic issue, but that's what it is. It's deeply frustrating, but it also clearly stems from cheap writing and not quality characterization.

This is also why my stance is that canon as a whole only supports my Doyalistic core-character analysis style of approach. The writing is too poor quality to do Watsonian analysis where you embrace the full picture and try to put it all together. The closest I'll get to Watsonian analysis is pointing out how much the writing botches a Watsonian take by showing you all the way the writing contradicts itself, twisting into a nonsense pretzel of frustration where the payoffs never satisfy! (See the season four rant for an example or anything where I talked about Chloe's supposed damnation arc.)

There are even characters where canon is such a total mess that you can Doyalistically argue for two separate takes! Gabriel is a perfect example. He is all over the place and his ending was so poorly handled that you can make strong arguments for writing him as a cold-hearted villain or a sympathetic villain without the end result feeling like it spits in the face of canon because both takes maintain his one core element: villain.

That's the big thing I keep in mind when I look at the characters and the lore and the plots and try to come up with versions that the average fan would like. I don't think that there's one true version of any of these things, but I do feel comfortable saying that there are versions that will very clearly only appeal to people who are salty about a specific thing that canon did poorly. That's not who I want to appeal to in my adaptions, so while I'm not going to argue that those takes have no backing in canon, I will argue that those takes are not supported by canon as a whole. Embracing them requires you to take the worst parts of canon at face value while ignoring what canon is clearly trying to do with the overall story.

I get the appeal of that, but it's not fun for me because that approach feels like rolling around in the mud with the pigs. I don't want to sink to canon's level! I want to have fun! That's why I talk about how to make canon into its best self, not its worst self. If you want its worst self, just go watch the actual show. I will be shocked it if disappoints you.

[genericpuff]

vent post

[averlym]

fairest of the fair