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#character study tag
seluniite-archived · 9 months
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𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃 𝙸𝚂 𝚈𝙾𝚄𝚁 𝙿𝙻𝙰𝙲𝙴 𝙸𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝚁𝙾𝚈𝙰𝙻 𝙲𝙾𝚄𝚁𝚃?
𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐄𝐍.
dignified in your regality, you are a beacon of reason... the true power behind the throne, you take heed of all, cautious in each move you make. some may call you callous in your calculation, but they do not know your heart.
tagged by: grabbed from dash! tagging: everyone!
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 7 days
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License to Kitty.
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qcomicsy · 8 months
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I think a thing that people get wrong about Jason's anger is that it's not explosive.
It's cold. Jason isn't the type of person who storms off at every little thing or goes throwing tantrums and setting things on fire blindfully.
He's the type of person who's very practical. He keeps to himself, always. You rarely see issues where Jason's anger is reactive at the moment where the trigger happens to him. If you see his character up close, most of the time when he's triggered his reaction is calm. Even cold.
He gets triggered -> He keeps to himself → He makes a plan → And then he reacts.
Jason's anger being something explosive and out of character and out of place is actually how other people (characters) see it, because they have no idea on how it's playing out on Jason's head.
And that's a thing you can see operating since he was a child.
Where the only exceptions about this effect is either when someone he believes needs his help is involved.
See Nightwing Annual (2021)
But In Batman #411 when Jason learns the fact that Two-Face was responsible for his father's death and Bruce was keeping that from him as a secret his first reaction isn't to blow up on him.
Was to seethe.
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Bruce goes up home after dealing with a Two-Face case (in my field we call that poetic irony) and asks Alfred where Jason is, Alfred's answer is that he's been sleeping all day (which is a conclusion that Alfred drew probably after going to check on Jason and seeing him in fact on his bed all day).
But when you see the next panel, even though he is on the bed, He's fully awake and both his expression and his body language shows that he's in fact angry.
This is the first time he appears again in the comics after learning that Two Face killed his dad.
Jason doesn't go towards Bruce immediately to demand an explanation or ask why he did this, or even to throw the truth on his face.
(Which could be debatable that that's something the Dick would usually do, but I'm not that literate on Dick's comics)
His reaction wasn't immediate.
His reaction was to go to his bed and stay quiet. Jason stayed calm and collected the whole trip until meeting Two Face again.
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But the moment Jason as Robin has the opportunity to get his hands on Two-Face he does this
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From Bruce, and maybe Alfred's perspective it could be interpreted as out of place or him storming off.
But it isn't. Jason was able to keep his cool (even though he shut off), until he was face a face to Two Face.
Does that mean he planned that to happen?
That's debatable, in any moment of this issue it is shown that Jason was actually planning to get to Two Face and do this. I my personal opinion, other and much more plausible explanation is: That he was in fact trying to keep to himself but couldn't hold back the moment that he saw his dad's murder.
You can see the same thing happening as Jason learns that Batman got another Robin in Red Hood: Lost Days.
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Talia asks "You all right?" and Jason's first answer is "Sure Why Wouldn't I Be Alright?"
When he's alone he finally has the moment to break down.
(Actually both Red Hood: The lost days and Batman: Under the Red Hood are great case studies on how that usually play out on Jason's head.)
Jason is way more in control of his emotions than people ever give him credit for. The thing is that Jason holds it back until he either blows off or is capable to throw it back in someone's face.
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buqbite · 11 months
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Old concept sketches for an AU of mine
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kawareo · 4 months
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Bhaalist Unholy Communion
This post has been living in my brain rent free and then it hit me in just the right headspace to turn into a vent thing and made me write poetry for the first time since eight grade anyway enjoy my ramblings under cut
because isn't it fucked up that Durge has no bodily autonomy? That he's nothing (using he/him because im looking at my Durge specifically) without Bhaal because not even his own body is his own but still a part of Bhaal?
And sure it is an honor to be Bhaal's Chosen, but is it really if you never got the chance to choose yourself? Strike, my Durge, was born a Bhaalspawn and grew up in the cult since he was eight. It's all he's ever known, he's worshiped for being a demi-god, he's powerful and on top, and in the end, literally everything he has is only because his Father lets him have it.
The Communion especially shows that, with Strike being still worshiped, but it hurts him, the Bhaalists rip his body apart, use it, consume it, and he needs to think of it as a blessing because how lucky is he, to be the soul that was loaned piece of a god to guard? He'd think of his own body like that.
And it hurts Bhaalists, too! It works both ways! His blood is poisonous and his flesh aches in their throats, but it's a blessing! God of Murder loves his son and his love hurts, and if you love him back, you must let yourself be hurt and know how lucky you are to be allowed to be hurt by Bhaal or his mortal flesh itself!
I'm just very into the whole 'no bodily autonomy' thing that we have going on with Durge, like his father not only can take control of his body via the Urge, but he has Sceleritas to guide him away from anything that could be not by Bhaal's books, Orin and Saverok to be a (although messed up as hell) family to him so he'll never look for another, and to some degree, Bhaal can control Durge's mind...
No wonder he'd run to Gortash in the end. The first one who sees more than a Bhaalspawn when he looks at Strike, more than Bhaal's scion, he sees a person and ngl it's totally Bhaal's fault that Strike ended up like that
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zebracorn-chan · 21 days
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| ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄ ̄|
✧⁠◝▿◜-×~*⁠´•`。⁠*゚⁠+ノ⁠*⁠.⁠°✧◠~・—⁠☆
🌸support human made art🌸
☆—⁠・~◠✧°.⁠*⁠ノ⁠+゚⁠*。⁠`•´*⁠~×-◝▿◜✧⁠
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🖌️\ (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕) /🎨
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dazesanddoodles · 1 year
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crazy how they’re actually dating in canon right now
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awsok · 8 months
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shin hati — season one character study
introduction in the odyssey, emily wilson / ahsoka, 'master and apprentice' / ahsoka, 'fallen jedi' / so we must meet apart, gabrielle bates & jennifer s. cheng / ahsoka, 'far far away' / between dog and wolf, rené-xavier prinet / ahsoka, 'far far away' / ahsoka, 'dreams and madness' / ahsoka, 'dreams and madness' / camp damascus, chuck tingle / ahsoka, 'the jedi the witch and the warlord' / the sun is also a star, nicola yoon
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spghtrbry · 1 month
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okay im too lazy to make separate posts so i’ll just throw all my gene content into one post
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also um. @ihateornithologists said that gene kinda looks like a pug. and i couldn’t agree more so i drew this
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yeah.
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m1d-45 · 1 month
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renewed
summary: many things have changed in aether's life since he met you...
word count: 2.7k
-> warnings: n/a
-> gn reader (you/yours) + aether as traveller!
taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @ryuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk
< masterlist >
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aether isn’t quite human. at least not entirely, not anymore.
it could be argued that even prior to coming to teyvat, he and his sister weren’t entirely human. they were nearly always stronger than the native life wherever they traveled, never lingering long enough for an accurate portrait to be drawn. between their glittering wings and the razor sharp swords at their hips, it could be easily argued that from the perspective of the people they visited they could be called angels.
a few wrote legends about them. the gilded warriors with shimmering swords that blinded as they slashed, so in step with each other that it was as if they were one being. the saviors, the adventurers, the peaceful giants, twin faces atop four wings apiece. lumine always managed to sneak away a copy of these legends, and they privately laughed over the artwork at their camp that night.
“we don’t look that intimidating, do we?”
“i’m fairly certain-… hang on, is that a tail?”
“that’s supposed to my hair, i think.”
“no no, look. it connects lower, here.”
“…by the stars-”
they didn’t see themselves that way, though. they were simply twins, defined by the other in every sense. never apart for long, always stood side by side, trading swords before a dangerous fight as a promise to return them.
‘draw me with courage.’
‘wield me with valor.’
lumine and aether and aether and lumine. they never fussed about the order, so long as they were together. call them whatever you’d like, insults or praise or a simple, tired request to leave, as long as it was both of them. they were all they had left. the other half of their life. to try and pry apart the seam would only result in bleeding hearts, limbs tangling together to at least die by the other’s side. even ‘twin’ was too simple a word to fit the entirety of their lives into. ‘twin’ implied a degree of separation, an impossible gap between them where wind would blow and the world would dig into, pushing them away like waves in a boat’s wake. ‘twin’ was too shallow a word, to bitter, too small to encompass everything they felt.
such fervent devotion could never be considered ‘human,’ for no human would ever live long enough to know the fear that came with knowing everything that swelled would eventually fall. no human would clutch so desperately to the twin pillars in their life—would ever consider basing their world upon two things. they’d call it foolish, even, for what would you do if one collapsed?
aether never liked that question. he didn’t like it when he and lumine first heard it, he didn’t like it when he and lumine heard it a second time, he didn’t like it anytime he and lumine heard it after that. he didn’t like it now, her sword slipping from his hands as he reached, his fingers barely brushing hers.
the unknown god laughed, and he barely had time to feel rage before the world closed in on him and his memory faded away.
aether and lumine. lumine and aether. she was always insistent upon his safety, but just this once he wished she wasn’t. living in whatever stasis she was in within that cube would certainly hurt less than this, bile rising in his throat at his failure.
somewhere in his mind, he knew that it logically wasn’t his fault. he remembered the layer of warmth that had surrounded him mid-battle, saw the reflection of understanding in lumine’s eyes. it wasn’t technically his fault, he didn’t ask to be saved, ignoring that it was his own actions that led to his god’s blessing. perhaps if he wasn’t so strict about the time of his prayer he wouldn’t have to be alone on this beach, though there was no way to find out. the sand stretched on either side, and though it wasn’t infinite, he had not left the immediate area around where he’d first woken up. to move was to move on, to leave, to accept that his world had shattered into a thousand little fragments and to give up on picking them off the floor. he couldn’t leave. to leave was to surrender to this new fate. to leave was to forget about his sister, to forget about his self, to forget about the half of his life he never imagined he could lose.
family and faith. to lose his gods favor was a threat he could live with, as there would only be himself to blame. but his sister?
if he hadn’t fished up paimon, he’s not certain he would have eaten the fish that came up instead.
she was bright, bubbly, at least after coughing up an impossible amount of seawater. she thanked him profusely while wringing out her hair, insisting on helping him in return because “it’s only fair!” as if he wasn’t three times her weight (save her magic) and and ten times as strong.
and he let her. he’s not sure why, but he did. he watched her fumble to catch crabs, ending up covered in sand, and managed a weak smile. it was for her, he told himself, spearing three with a sword that wasn’t his, helping her arrange driftwood into a measly campfire. he hardly felt hungry despite being on the beach for what had to be a few months in local time, but she was so insistent that he have some.. it was for her benefit. he just had to get her somewhere safe, then… then…
“so, where are you from?”
aether looked up from his barely-touched meal, meeting her eyes. they were so wide and earnest, too trusting for someone that just met him.
not that he had any ill intentions. no, lumine would always joke that the day he was willingly rude to another would be the day the sky turned red—something that had been the case on one of the planets they’d visited, much to her delight.
aether turned back to the fire, pushing aside the memory. “another planet.” his voice was hoarse and his throat scratched with salt from attempting to drink the seawater earlier, which was not as potable as he’d hoped. “i flew here with my sister.”
“you have a sister?” paimon looked around, though they both knew she wouldn’t find anything. “where is she?”
aether swallowed salt and bile, taking another bite of his crab just to stall. “how about we talk in the morning?”
she let the topic drop.
he didn’t sleep that night, lending her his scarf as a pillow and keeping watch. she didn’t wake when the moon erased the shadows in the sand, or when the sun first crested the sea, or when the sky fully lightened to a pale blue, birdsong filling the air. one of the remnants from the fire found its way into his hand, reaching out to gently shake her awake. her eyes were heavy and she covered her mouth as she yawned, aether looking away before his own could water.
he drew nothing in the sand as she asked her questions—who are you, where’d you come from, who are you missing, what happened to her, why didn’t you do anything?—sketching out mountains and seas he wiped away as soon as they took form. he spoke for much longer than he meant to, his words pulled out as if they were tied to some invisible string.
when was the last time he was alone for this long?
paimon listened intently, brows drawn and frowning deeply, watching as he carved twin—twin, separated by time and space—stars into the sand. “so… what you’re trying to say is that you fell here… from another world? but when you wanted to leave, to go on to the next world, your path was blocked by some unknown god?”
wow, he wanted to snark, i didn’t know there was an echo out here! but the chance never came. magic gripped him by the throat and his eyes went wide in panic, his mouth shaping words he didn’t choose to say by force. he didn’t want to say what someone else told him to. he didn’t know what was going on. he was being pulled at some ghost’s whims, walking stiffly across the sand. it did not skid from beneath his feet, nor pull his balance one way or another. it was solid as stone, leading him up the beach without warning, without knowledge of why or when it would stop.
when was the last time he was this helpless?
(lumine.)
he stumbled across the shore on uncoordinated limbs, fighting fruitlessly. ahead, slime bubbled up from where the sand met the sea, but the ghost did not stop. mist coagulated into a pale blue blob with hazy spots for eyes, and only then was he allowed to stop. paimon yelped and ducked behind him, a familiar weight sinking into his hand. the slime had barely the chance to turn and see him, jerking up as if surprised, when his arm slashed forward.
a sword. not his sword, not lumine’s sword, but a sword, pulled from nowhere, the dull blade hacking at the blob of its own will until the sludge dispersed and sunk back into the sand. a soft mist lingered above the sand, but he was pulled forward without care or remorse. he didn’t even know if it would have hurt him.
weight hit him between the shoulders, cold spreading over his skin and absorbing into his skin. energy buzzed beside his ear, his earring humming with neither outlet nor conduit. were he anyone else, he would have been afraid, but he recognized the buzz. all at once, he understood. all at once, the weak puppetry was vindicated, his muscles relaxing and letting it happen. your energy sank into him, and he let himself stop worrying.
if you were here, he’d be okay. if you were here, you could fix this.
if you were here, he could find his sister, and everything would be okay again.
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aether was not human. not entirely, not anymore, and he knew the people of mondstat could tell. you had stayed to guide his body for a week, alternating between helping the knights with dvalin and exploring the plains of mondstat. he was weak and your grip was frail, his attacks uncoordinated and clumsy, but you were there. you understood. the cavalry captain gave him a long stare as they exited his domain, a mix of curiosity and disbelief swirling in his one eye.
when you finally left, you did so in the middle of mondstat square. a physical weight lifted from his shoulders, the anemo he’d absorbed turning from calm and controlled to pushing at the edges of his form, trying to make him give. the anemo archon approached, soothing the wind with a wave of his hand, pulling him along for a drink and a chat. his knees did not want to bend without your command, his mind fraying a bit from continued exposure.
“how interesting, that you’re still standing after a week without rest,” the bartender remarked, the glass in his hands obviously an excuse to keep them above the bar. “what’s your name, outlander?”
he did not think of his own name. no, when he went to answer, he thought of the name you had given him, the one you whispered as you sheltered him from the unknown god’s wrath. it was not his, but it was yours, and wasn’t that what he was asking for?
it took too long for him to answer. red eyes narrowed but eventually chalked it up to exhaustion, giving him directions he couldn’t hear. the captain led him to a room in the back, but he didn’t sleep that night, sitting at the window and searching for the thin sliver of stars.
he didn’t need to eat anymore. he could, certainly, and it tasted fine enough, but he didn’t exactly need to. he’d thought it odd, at first, that barbatos was healed strictly by the wind, but he understood now. he spent his free time sitting under vanessa’s tree, half-asleep as he waited for your return.
you were his source of energy, of will. you knew answers to problems he’d have given up on, and if you didn’t then you tried and tried and tried again until you got it right. you were the power that purified dvalin’s tears, you swept the wind to fix the holy lyre, you cleared the seals around decarabian’s tower. he was a medium, and he was happy with that. your presence waxed and waned, the lapses without you seeming to pass by in a blink.
a few of the knights worried for him, but he knew your vessels understood. none held as much of your power as him, none were as reliant on you, but they understood. they excused his oddities with a kind smile, paimon always at his side to make sure he didn’t waste away the day simply sitting in one spot. prior to coming to teyvat, the concept of elemental sight was something he was only vaguely familiar with. a few planets had some talented witches that could feel the flow of energy through the ground and grass, who could watch the mist in the air and predict the weather. he’d never experienced it himself before. now, the world lit up as his eyes took on a teal sheen, your power mixing with the anemo within him to grant him insight. the world was so vibrant, even the most mundane sights capturing his attention. how could he not stare? if he had it his way he’d always view your creations like this.. but whenever paimon snapped him out of it he’d come out of it with a headache, not to mention his staring tended to be off-putting to those around.
a lot of his new behaviors were. when within your control, he moved stiffly, with repetitive motions forecast well in advance. you chose what he said, when and how he moved, you controlled the very flow of elements through his body. it was harder and harder to think for himself without you there and though paimon handled most of the conversation, there was only so much she could say.
“who are you looking for?” lumine. his sister. himself. the knowledge was there but his throat was closed, unwilling to move without your order.
“thank you for your help.” you’re welcome. don’t worry about it. it was nothing. all he could manage was a stiff nod, eyes flicking to the sky, counting the days until your return. he’d gotten a good grasp of your routine by now.
“who are you?” yours. a traveller. lumine’s. he could not blame those they ran across for their suspicion, even though he wanted to. could they not feel the remains of your presence lingering around him?
they had to go to the rite of decension soon. liyue was holding off, though, waiting for your arrival. they’d never dare to make you miss it, so aether felt no hurry to leave. he laid in the middle of windrise, staring up at the stars. he used to sit atop the knights’ headquarters, but it took too long for the lights of the city to turn out and he liked picking out the various constellations.
his was up there, somewhere. he didn’t have a vision like your other vessels, but he could feel it. it was written right beside your decision to save him and not lumine, alongside your actions in mondstat and everything you’d do in liyue. fate, you’d called it, well-acquainted and intertwined.
aether fell asleep on wet grass among cold wind. he did not get sick, nor was he attacked or otherwise hurt. why would he have been, anyway? your blood was in his veins; he had nothing at all to fear.
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m-oshun · 2 years
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light
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littlemoondarlingarts · 2 months
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Did an artstyle study of the gorgeous art of @iliothermia and I genuinely learned alot so I'm very thankful that he gave me permission to do this 🙏🏻🙏🏻
As usual, rambles and process pics under the cut, be warned that I talk alot because this drawing was a true labor of love both for his art and Rouge
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I wanted to use elements from his art but at the same time i know how deeply personal his art is to his own life and struggles and culture so i tried to be as respectful as possible (and if I failed at that please tell me I have no problem in deleting this) and tried to minimize my use of direct elements from his art to keep it to the skull which was heavily inspired by a drawing he has done, the waves which are such a beautiful staple of his art that I just couldn't not put it and the use of candles and small floral patterns and the style of the mold, but I tried to keep the rest to things that are symbolic to the character.
While he may have restraint to not explain everything, I'm not famous for that lol, so I will be explaining the symbolism behind my choices.
Part 1: the symbolism:
The red rose is Rouge's flower and it is heavily associated with him. The meaning of it being romantic desire and passion mixed with the thorns of it perfectly sum up his position as a beautiful black widow.
Voyeurism is a big part of this drawing and it is first noticed with the eyes motif on the roses' leaves, this symbolises his response to his trauma which left him feeling like an unwanted pervert on his own self. I can talk about this aspect of his story for hours but I'll spare you lol.
The X-ray cutouts are his complicated relationship with his own body and death, it is a thing that is constantly on his mind as he suffers from suicidal thoughts but at the same time he is always running away from it in fear, but he knows that eventually, he will have to stop running.
The candles melting represent him being only wanted when he is useful, when he is giving parts of himself up for others to use and abuse, when he is lighting their lives by slowly draining his own.
The piano is one of the rare things that bring him happiness and peace, but he needs to be heavily dissociated to be able to enjoy it which is represented by the hands being disconnected from the rest of the drawing and just floating in their own reality.
The snake represents two things, one is him being venomous to those around him, the mistakes he's made, the promises he's broken, the pain he's caused etc. But it also represents those who slowly wrap themselves around him in a warm embrace, presenting themselves as a saviour in his most dire times only to end up being the ones who will hurt him the most.
The book is about his obsession with keeping track of everything and of studying people, accidentally turning himself into an unwanted voyeur on their lives to the point where he has written the life stories of many people who would never want to be remembered through his eyes in his little books.
The butterflies are him, both in the way they are seen as "the good insects" and the beautiful delicate ones despite the fact that they eat flesh sometimes, it is also related to the way his simple presence for a few minutes in someone's life can create a whirlwind of change that will leave it unrecognizable, or he can simply be another body in their bed.
The hair turning into waves is meant to reflect the way he is always drowning in his own thoughts, a hand crafted constant state of misery.
The beta fish are some of the most beautiful and colourful fish out there, yet they are seen as cheap and easy first pets, leading to them being neglected and given environments that are too small and crammed, making their beautifully slow death the only thing they can offer to their owner. I don't think I need to explain more..
The skull is probably someone he's loved, or someone he's killed, or both.
The heart is his, it is rotten and covered in mold, any love he offers is tainted by his inability to heal and it is spreading to infect every aspect of his life.
Part 2: the inspirations:
The roses are a homage to the way Rachamim always places flowers in his art, either in the background or as a focal point of the illustration, most of the flowers he uses are cultural in nature, so I opted to not reuse any of them and changed it to a flower related to my oc.
Eyes are a repeated theme in his art, whether it be angel eyes, the evil eye or anything else, and as you can tell both of these are cultural and religious and while the evil eye exists in my culture, it does not in my oc's so I didn't use it. Instead I opted to pay homage to one of his beautiful merman drawings in which he used the plants to make an eye-like shape that stares at the viewer.
I thought I was being real smart in turning the hair into waves but yesterday I saw an illustration where he did the same so rip to me thinking i was being original lol.
The snake and butterflies are my way of replicating his use of animals while trying to not directly copy any animals that have a connection to himself or his culture/religion.
The beta fish is just to reference the ever present fishies in his art. I know he uses them because they represent friendship for him and they are the only animals safe from the evil eye (thanks for the fun fact) so I uh... I don't really know if this was disrespectful or not to be honest but I tried to use a different type of fish, idk this might still be slightly problematic and again I'm always ready to delete this if it makes anyone uncomfortable.
The waves are a direct copy of how he draws the gorgeous waves in his art, another case of something I fear may be crossing the line because the waves are drawn in the style of cultural jewelry 😭
The tiny flowers are an obvious reference to his own tiny flowers that decorate his art and characters.
The skull with the candles is heavily inspired by a specific drawing of his.
The cutouts are my way of paying my respects to my absolute favourite piece of art he's done without directly copying its concept because as far as I can tell, it is a very personal and emotional piece.
The mold style is a reference to his mold man (I forgot his name I'm sorry).
And the candles are another repeated motif in his art as well as the pillars and the pant style.
And ouf I sure do talk alot don't I? I just really love the amount of things I was able to cram into this piece and I haven't even mentioned everything😭😭 I will NOT be doing this again because I'm simply not as patient as he is and as proud as I am of the result, this was torture. I hope I didn't disrespect him, his art or his culture and I genuinely tried my best to be as respectful as possible but I might have some blind spots due to our experiences being so vastly different so again, please don't hesitate to inform me if you want this deleted!
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poorly-drawn-mdzs · 3 months
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You keep telling yourself that Namari.
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koinotame · 30 days
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quick apology fic to xiao for missing his bday </3 which doubles as a character study of xiao and an exploration of how you as the player interact with the self aware characters in self aware au
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it’s been a couple of weeks since you last used him.
or has it only been several days? whether it’s days or years, it all feels like the blink of an eye to him. the flow of time is somewhat of a nebulous concept for someone like him, especially since you first appeared.
it doesn’t matter. however long you take to come back, xiao will wait dutifully for you.
he spends most of his time when you’re not making use of him subjugating threats around liyue and fighting off any unwanted foes. perhaps you’ll come back faster if the area is freer of enemies. you’re kind, after all. you seem much happier when it’s peaceful.
lately, when there’s no demons for him to quell, he’s found himself returning to the same spot on wangshu inn’s upper balcony. it’s the spot you always drop him off at before disappearing. it’s not the place at the top of the inn’s roof he’d pick on his own, though you do sometimes take him up there as well.
you’re not actually there, but if he closes his eyes it almost feels like you are.
his birthday was a couple days ago. as usual, the traveller had suggested he write you a letter. as usual, he wasn’t sure what he could possibly convey to you that you would be happy to receive.
the traveller insisted anything from him would make you happy, but xiao doubts that.
it’s easier when you’re here. it’s easier when you’re here and he can submit himself entirely to you and doesn’t have to think for himself.
he’s been dreaming more lately, particularly of you. he doesn’t know what you look like, and after he wakes up he can never quite remember what you looked like in his dreams.
waking up after dreaming of you is always hard for xiao. it’s shameful how badly he wants to go back to dreaming of doing such mundane things with you, and it’s disgraceful how long it takes him to pick himself back up afterwards.
he wonders if you’d like doing dull things like that with someone like him.
he wonders if he deserves that.
probably not.
he left the letter at the railing of that same—your—spot, along with a serving of his almond tofu (he might not like dreaming, but he hopes your dreams are as sweet as his have been lately), some dream solvent (the traveller had mentioned you seemed to want more) and a small bundle of qixing (you frequently go out of your way to collect it).
you never touch it.
…after a couple days, he decided to move the offering to his room. it stays there, on his windowsill where the sun touches it in a way that reminds him of your warmth, untouched.
it doesn’t matter, he tells himself. he’ll wait for you for as long as you want. even if another thousand years pass before you appear again, he’ll continue his duty and wait.
and then he blinks and suddenly finds himself in front of the adventurer’s guild in the court of fontaine.
another blink and he’s back at wangshu inn, this time heading towards the kitchen. the familiar aura of your possession fills him with a warmth he doesn’t think exists outside of you. he zones out for what feels no longer than a couple seconds, and suddenly there’s thirty servings of almond tofu in front of him.
your mood drops.
dissatisfaction seeps through you and into him. something deep in his gut squirms.
you set a large amount of sweet flowers to boil, then seem to fuss with something he can’t quite see or grasp. smiley yanxiao gives him a curious look, but doesn’t (cannot) comment any further.
in another couple of seconds—your teleportation hardly fazed him when you first started using him, let alone now when he’s so used to your presence—he’s in front of the liyuean general goods store. you buy up the entire stock of milk, and only milk.
your mood hasn’t improved. if anything, you seem even more downcast.
the milk dissipates as soon as it’s been bought, safely held in your near infinite storage.
he’s behind mondstadt’s hotel next, jumping down the railing and towards the local general goods store. again, you buy up all the milk. next you head for the good hunter (is that what it’s called? he thinks that’s what the traveller called it some time ago) and purchase as much of their sugar as you can.
tendrils of something truly unpleasant move upwards and wrap around his neck.
he finds himself in wangshu inn’s kitchen again. barely any of the sweet flowers have been processed, but you take the two packs of sugar anyway. you put him to work immediately.
usually, he finds the process of cooking much to tedious and drawn out. with you, he doesn’t mind.
you seem a bit more satisfied this time, and xiao finds himself ashamed of having made a few more of his specialty dish instead of only regular almond tofu like you’d wanted him to.
while you seem a bit happier now, he still finds himself in front of inazuma’s goods store. again, you buy all the milk. you talk to the restaurant owner up the stairs afterwards. some confusion creeps into him through you, but it doesn’t last long.
he’s in sumeru next. more milk makes its way into your inventory, and you visit the local tavern for good measure, though this time you don’t buy anything at all.
exiting the building, you seem to notice there’s a stove just outside of it and walk over in excitement… and straight into the clay oven.
a sharp pang of panic shoots through him and he jerks backwards. it takes him a second to realise it’s your panic.
immediately, you pull the astrologer from mondstadt out and have her set down her little hydro puppet. you then walk him through it, which does absolutely nothing except soak his clothes.
your panic doesn’t subside.
i’m sorry.
he blinks and finds himself in front of dihua marsh’s statue of the seven, the fire and the tinge it brought with it disappearing in seconds.
it’s rare to be able to make out what you’re actually saying as opposed to just feeling your vague emotions and intentions. are you that worried about him not performing up to standard with this little damage?
he’s yours to use. a little singe like that would never hold him back.
you don’t bother with fontaine.
something like shame curls up his body and makes a home near his ears.
soon after, he’s back at the inn’s kitchen again. yanxiao doesn’t even look in his direction this time as he gets back to work under your guidance, making even more almond tofu. he makes sure to take greater care to avoid displeasing you again.
your mood doesn’t pick up this time, but you seem to have calmed down a little. he’s not sure why (or what use you could possibly have for so much almond tofu), but it’s a small comfort.
part of him wishes he could be there with you properly to comfort you, but he knows better.
he might be your formidable weapon, but that’s all he is. he has no false illusions about his role or purpose to you, no matter how much he wishes he could be the one you turn to for comfort. he isn’t suited to something so delicate. he’s accepted that a long time ago.
your dejection doesn’t retract, even as you move him around a bit more.
then you sit him down at a table at the inn’s terrace and pull out a plate of his specialty.
your presence lingers for a bit, envelops him like a gentle dream, then falls through the cracks of his existence and disappears.
happy birthday, xiao.
he wonders if he deserves this much effort from you for something as inconsequential as his birthday.
probably not.
he hopes he’ll dream of this next.
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cholvoq · 1 year
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This has been a long time coming but I’ve been wanting to do some character study/cheat sheets for some time now!
Up first is Steve! He’s a little harder bc his features are so prominent that if you don’t draw them right, it doesn’t really look like him :,)
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transmasccofee · 10 months
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antisocial dogs
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