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#the writing section
woke up and someone spilled vanilla extract all over my dash, so as punishment you strange little beasties are getting all the VANILLA FACTS i know:
vanilla is the 2nd most expensive spice in the world (2nd to saffron)
which is why more than 99% of what we call "vanilla extract" is actually vanillin (vanilla's dominant flavor compound) and is not extracted from real vanilla.
luckily, even professionals struggle to tell the difference when it comes to things like baked goods. but there is a distinct difference in non-heat treated products like vanilla ice cream. real vanilla has a more complex, individualized flavor profile.
why is vanilla so expensive? because it is a ridiculously delicate & demanding crop. complete primadonna.
vanilla beans come from vanilla orchids. these crazy flowers bloom for A SINGLE DAY and have to be HAND-POLLINATED in a process that is exhausting, delicate, and requires specialist knowledge passed down over generations.
then, if you're lucky, you get vanilla beans.
which then require months of further specialized treatment.
the entire process takes about a year and can go wrong at any stage
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vanilla has been cultivated for over 800 years (possibly much longer). the first known cultivators are the Totonac, an indigenous people of Mexico.
the Aztecs used it as a sweetener to balance out the bitter taste of cocoa. it was popular in a drink called xocolatl--the precursor to modern hot chocolate!
it is only pollinated by a very specific orchid bee!!!
which is why no fruit could be grown outside of Mexico until the 1800s
Edmond Albius, born into slavery, invented the pollination method we still use today--launching a global industry when he was just 12 years old.
today, the majority of the world's vanilla is grown in Madagascar
if you want real vanilla, read the labels carefully--it's harder to find than you think!
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in conclusion, those tiny black specks you see in fancy vanilla ice cream? those are vanilla bean seeds! itty bitty orchid seeds!!! they are delicious and also a PRISSY BITCH!
(src)
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cosmophoriia · 2 months
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"i made it so obvious" : angry love confessions. 𝜗𝜚
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ღ request from: @inlovewithpandora. Prompt request for angry love confession where character b is oblivious and doesn’t realize that character a has a crush on them and character a gets fed up with character b acting clueless so while character b is talking to them about their love life character a blurts out their feelings
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"how can you not know, i made it so obvious!" "clearly, you didn't make it that clear!"
“i’ve had feelings for you for so long.”
“it’s a bit frustrating to how oblivious you are.”
“how did you not notice, i always flirted with you.”
“you deserve someone who would treat you right.” “who might that be?” “… how about me?”
“i’m right in front of you.”
character b going on and on about how they never find someone and character a is just looking at them ready to snap.
“you just got to be fucking kidding me, right?”
“are you messing with me?” “no, why would you think that?” “because i gave you all the signs to me liking you and you haven’t notice one bit.”
“why are you so clueless?”
“did you ever stop and think that maybe just maybe the person you’re looking for is me?”
character a choosing to ignore character b for a while after b goes out on a tinder date and b is so confused on why a been avoiding them.
^ “did i do something wrong?”
“what do i have to do or say for you to notice that i’m in love with you?”
“everyone knew but you!”
character a having to hear character b talk about the sweet gifts that character c claimed they sent reader.
^ "they didn't send you those gifts, i did!"
"wait... you're in love with me?"
"why do you care!" "because i’m in love with you!"
"you claim to know everything about me but you never noticed that i’ve feelings for you, not even once?”
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canisalbus · 6 months
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hello! i've written a short little machete fic, and i wanted to share it with you as thanks for all the incredible art and generous question-answering you've been doing these last few months. i hope that if you give it a look, you enjoy it. <3 keep up all your amazing work! archiveofourown [.] org / works / 50945128
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✦ A Voi ✦
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oh-theatre · 8 months
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worst part of writing is when you've got a whole section written but slowly realize you have to delete it and rewrite it completely
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riaki · 5 months
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after party | satoru gojo x reader
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gojo wanted to help you prepare a friendsgiving dinner, but he's a little tired n a lot tipsy.
cw: non curse au, everyones alive, shoko typical smoking, drinking, you’re married to gojo wc: 3.3k
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this was supposed to be short but it just spiraled n i kind of hate it b i technically posted on the 23rd so it counts !! not proofread!
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business dinners with satoru are exhausting, to say the least—you start the day early to the scent of coffee through a filter and a fresh breeze through your open window, sending your husband off to work with a hug and a kiss—maybe a promise of more if he pulls the 'five more minutes!' on you.
this one is special, though; old friends from freely youthful highschool days gathered around your dinner table on the mats of your living room floor catching up over cans of beer cold with condensation, the sound of can tabs popping and the fizzling of bubbly spirits over tables of warm food in tin containers.
geto, the tall man with dark hair and gauges, talks about how his two daughters are adjusting to city life, occasionally interrupted by cheerful brightness never dampened by adult years from haibara, an apprenticing entrepeneur under nanami who's got a thing for girls with big appetites. shoko and utahime are having a drinking contest, and mei mei's too occupied with her phone; checking stocks as her tacky nails click against the glass screen.
satoru can't cook. there's a reason why he always buys takeout when you're too busy to provide or you've already gone to sleep— he should be the picture perfect husband, because you deserve that and everything more. his only (self-perceived) flaws are his lack of alcohol tolerance and his inability to master the frying pan.
you always tell him he doesn't have to be a michelin chef— but with the way he's constantly sneaking a chocolate graham cracker from your muji snack bag or snagging the sour gummy between your teeth from your lips, he feels like he should compensate. so on this special november evening, when the hum of the city life outside your balcony gets drowned out by the cheerful mirth of a warm dinner table, he had decided to help you.
the warm kitchen had become a foodstained disaster— but with tearful round eyes and a hand tugging on your shirt, you'd resigned to helping him conquer the task of simple packaged noodles and soft-boiled eggs. he'd cut his finger— even the most capable teacher found his shortcomings against a blunt kitchen knife. needless to say you'd peppered it with kisses before wrapping a rainbow hello kitty bandaid around it.
and that brings you to the present: the result of your extensively hard work; a few soggy noodles collected at the bottom of porcelain bowls painted red on the insides in a lukewarm puddle of soup, full stomachs and a loose and welcoming atmosphere. you wouldn't trade it for the world.
you're fishing a pickled radish slice out of your bowl when satoru leans over, removing the arm that was snaked around your shoulder to drape himself on your lap, lying down on the floor with his knees propped up and his soft cloud-white hair sprawled over your thighs. geto makes a distasteful face when satoru's black socks brush against his leg. across the table, shoko knocks shoulders with utahime as she lights a cigarette; the latter's face flushes as smoke drifts past her lightly flushed face into the open window city night air overhead.
"hey, you. what's up?" you asked softly, chuckling to yourself as you set your chopsticks atop the rim of your bowl, leaning back on your arms to look down at him. he adjusts himself a little, wiggling on your lap as you caught a whiff of his beer breath and scrunch your nose.
"hiii, baby," he drawls, giggling a little to himself. his smooth, usually playful voice took on that deep tone he used whenever he was being serious, and it sent an involuntary shiver down your spine, so you hugged him closer and ran a hand through his soft white hair, brushing your fingers against the black cloth of his blindfold. "what'cha doing?"
"i was eating. you put too much pepper in the broth, 'toru." you smiled softly, tracing the line of his jaw slowly with one finger in the way you knew he liked so much; it was obvious from the way he sighed contentedly and tilted his head into your palm. whether it be from that unfathomably sweet smile or the tender way you held his face in your delicate hands, that was up to him to ponder. next to you, haibara makes a joke— something about mei mei's stocks, and she quips a snarky retort that has him laughing raucously while nanami makes a face.
"i tried!" he protests, almost a whine as he sighs; a hand sneaks up to lift the edge of his blindfold up so his eyes meet yours, and you're left breathless. it catches you off guard every time— those endless pools of swirling blue that stare straight through you, sifting through your thoughts like a scholar annotating an open book, all heart-shaped sticky notes and bright highlighters when it came to thinking about him.
"not hard enough, clearly. but it's okay; we'll do better next time."
he just frowns again at that, sticking out his lower lip in a little pout that makes your heart squeeze. your stomach is full with noodles and broth; you don't think you could stomach another bite if you tried, and you're not one to drink especially if everyone else is. so, you let yourself indulge a little— snake a hand on the back of satoru's neck and tilt him up until he's sitting halfway up and you can easily meet his lips in a kiss.
he reciprocates immediately, hungry like he was waiting for you; you notice that he hasn't eaten much of his food yet, so maybe he was. or maybe he knows how bad it is. either way, his tongue darts out from his parted lips to flick against your own for a moment, before he sinks his teeth into your bottom lip and draws out a teasing whine that you have to stifle because "we have company, 'toru," you have to breath as a reminder. he just laughs breathily against your lips, tasting like bitter beer and buttery vanilla as he shifts to practically sit on top of you, hands on your shoulders as his thumbs brush over your collarbone where the edge of your shirt fails to cover tantalizing skin; he's taller and eventually ends up bringing the both of you toppling down onto the mats.
your back hits the floor and a little gasp leaves your winded lungs— but satoru eagerly catches it with his lips and swallows it, like he's intent on getting drunken off his ass from you (as if he wasn't already tipsy) when he smashes his swollen lips to yours again. your hair is splayed out against the tatami mats like you're trapped in some marine watercolor painting, and for a split second satoru thinks if mermaids were real you'd be the most angelic he'd ever seen as his calloused fingers curl into the strands.
you're about to hook a leg around his waist when a shout catches your ear and you part lips with a gasp, sucking in greedy breaths as satoru promptly sits on your stomach. you let out a stuffed oomph from his weight, and watch as he slides his blindfold back on to look over at the rest of the table who're staring at the two of you like they're watching some forbidden steamy movie scene that's meant to be shielded from children's eyes.
“don’t kiss him while he’s drunk. it’s like rewarding a brat for bad behavior,” shoko says. you sit up with much effort, straining under satoru’s weight as you reach up to grab his shoulders. you miss, but he takes your hands and pulls you up, wrapping his arms around you to keep you from falling back down as you rest your head on his shoulder. utahime has her arms lazily draped over shoko; you assume she’s drunk from that, but if you were to inspect her for long enough you’d notice her can of beer was almost completely full.
“oh, i guess you’re right.” you remarked, frowning a little and biting the inside of your cheek as you pull away from satoru and glance at him. all of the sudden he looks like he’s ready to keel over; the shadows beneath his eyes are reinforced by the alcohol in his system and it looks like he’ll need to tape his eyes open lest he passes out right on top of you. you want to avoid that, so you gently push him off, sighing to yourself.
“don’t listen to her, sweetheart. you can kiss me all you want,” he smirks, a flash of pearly white teeth that would’ve been on your neck a moment ago if not for the interruption. you just shake your head with a breathless laugh, giving him a quick flick to the forehead. before you can pull away, though— he catches your hand, bringing your wrist to his glossy pink lips and giving your pulse a quick peck. “no, she has a point.” you hummed. overhead, the light flickers a little; a moth that had flown in through the window danced about the bulb. the faint sound of car horns filters through the window along with the breeze, recycled laughter and lively chatter from bars a few stories down carried in the cool wind.
you mill about for another twenty minutes or so, content to just listen in as old friends shared anecdotes and funny stories from separate paths of life; you soon learned that nanami was planning on moving to malaysia, and shoko was due to renew her medical license this year. the beer cans built up, mixed in with crumpled napkins that had penned doodles on the rough surface and paper chopstick wrappers. somewhere along the line, satoru had fallen asleep— you had to push his unfinished ramen bowl out of the way before he knocked his head against the wooden table and spilt his meal. you frowned a little at the sight of it— you knew he'd complain about his soaked noodles and limp seaweed sheets later on. you found yourself slinging one of your jackets over his shoulders, fingers lingering over his neck, where the scratchy hair of his undercut met soft warm skin.
soon enough, dishes are piling up in the sink and calling your name; the kids see themselves home via train station, spouting something about a late night pit stop in sendai for the mochi that 'our teacher likes so much'. you consider asking them to bring some back for satoru, but you decide you'll enjoy a laugh when he tells you about how he went to school the next morning to find out for himself, and the stab of hurt that will pierce his full heart in two when he hears the news. even then, you have to shush them as they show themselves out; you can tell from the way satoru's eyebrows knit together beneath his blindfold and the pinch of his jaw that he doesn't appreciate the noise, no matter how blacked out.
the conversation dies down a little, and soon enough, everyone takes their leave one by one. it's only when you settle back down after cleaning up the bowls and putting away the cups that satoru stirs, waking up with a mumble and a huff. his hair is a disheveled mess, and there are sleep lines on his face, but he's still handsome as ever.
"baby?" his voice is hoarse with sleep and dehydration. there's a dull ache between his eyes, feeling like he'd just ran a circle around the world. you answer from the kitchen, calling his name. it's late; past midnight now. the window's still open and satoru's can of beer is still on the table, almost completely empty.
"how long did i sleep? shit, did everyone go home? 'm sorry," he groans, standing up and stretching his arms out. his shirt rides up on his shoulders, exposing the arch of his hip just above the edge of his pants. "don't worry, 'toru." you hummed, washing your hands in the sink as you look over at him. he just nods, grabbing the can and crumpling it in his hands before tossing it in the trash.
"you okay? got a headache?" you asked as he walked over to you, careful not to hit his head on the arch that connected the living room to the kitchen. when you'd first moved in with him, you had to pin a strip of bright yellow caution tape to remind him to duck his head. you smiled as you reminisced over late nights, tucked in his arms as he mused about demolishing the wall there just so he could be rid of the bruise on his temple. then again, as long as you were waiting for him to kiss it better at the end of his nine to five, he didn't mind.
he nods, and watches as an easy smile stretches across your lips; they look infuriatingly kissable under the warm glow of the hazy kitchen light, shining off the porcelain cups in the sink. he leans against the kitchen counter, cold marble feeling through the thin fabric of his shirt as you take his leftovers from the fridge and heat them up in the microwave, standing before the black glass as you watch the little plate spin inside.
there's something about moments like these; so sweet and easy with you after everyone's taken the last train home and all that's left are empty beer cans and extra bowls in the dishwasher for two people with matching rings on their fingers to take care of.
he walks up to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on your chin. he smiles when he feels your hand cup his cheek, and he turns his head instinctively to meet your lips in a slow, sweet kiss; a muscle memory tango between familiar lovers. when he pulls away to catch his breath, tongue swiping across his bottom lip, you're already there with your fingers, pulling his blindfold down to rest around his neck and gently rubbing the spot beside his eyes, alleviating the tension behind them. it's unspoken moments like these that he loves the most in your relationship. making a mess in your kitchen is a close second.
it's a slow, easy night after a special get-together when the microwave beeps and you take his noodles out, bringing them to the table as you sit down next to him and rest your head on his shoulder, letting him tuck you into his side as he gets a bit of breaded tonkotsu crumbs on his cheek and insists you wipe them off for him like he's some oversized baby. you wash some cherries in a green plastic bowl, competing to see who can spit the pits into the trashcan without missing. in the end, he lost the game of rock paper scissor and was resigned to pick up the missed pits on the floor.
he's still wearing your jacket like a cape and even though it's far too small for him, he insists on keeping it with him when you go out onto your balcony to finish the last of a bottle of sake together, listening to the melody of the wind in the trees that line the sidewalk and the permeating hustle and bustle of the city, even when it's so late at night it could be considered early morning.
he swipes the cold bottle from your hands, finishing the last drops from the matte glass before letting it dangle between your fingers. and you're expecting it when he catches your arm to pull you into another kiss; he tastes like peaches and wine and a little bit of soup broth. it's slow, and easy, because being with him has always felt as natural as breathing, and being with you has made it easier for him to breathe, like the iron weight on his lungs melts away in the face of your unconditional warmth and care. the cool wind blows your hair in front of your face, and he laughs that charming boyish giggle as he tucks it behind your ears and scoops you up in his arms.
"i don't like sharing you with a sake bottle," you said, pointedly looking at the glass in his hand. he just grins, looking down at you for a moment. he can almost see it again; you, in that gorgeous white wedding cloth. he was carrying you bridal style in the same way now, when you'd decided to grow old together and host special business dinners as a couple in your shared apartment.
"don't worry, love. you're sweeter than any spritz," he laughs, stepping inside again and closing the door behind him.
it's routine, and it's easy, getting ready for bed with him, laughing when he pushes his hair back with a headband, looking like a pretty little princess. you suggest him getting a mullet, and he shushes you by shoving your toothbrush on your tongue, getting a mouthful of mint. the warm water rushes over your fingers before you dry yourself off, wiping your face and putting the towel away only to be met with the equal warmth of his lips on your forehead, peppering you with kisses.
you slip into the covers, still pleasantly cold as you watch satoru sit up and take his shirt off. he lets you peel the rainbow bandaid on his finger off, tossing it in the trash before pulling you into his arms, right where you belong the closest to his heart. "don't cut yourself like that again, okay?"
"it was an accident, baby." he chuckles, and you just roll your eyes. he reaches over to ruffle your hair affectionately and makes a joke about having you suck his blood like a vampire, tooting about how sweet it would be. "besides, i don't need to be careful if you're there to patch me up, pretty. shoko has nothing on you!"
he plays with your hair as you catch him up to the conversations he'd slept away; mei mei had left early when you'd given him your jacket to envelope him in your scent, muttering something about cheap perfume and worthless soggy noodles. he likes to play with your jewelry, you notice— fiddles with the ring on your finger, cupping your hands in his palm as he tucks his face into the back of your neck.
at one point, he asks you to do his hair, so you oblige, rolling him over onto his stomach and clambering on top of his waist. you braid his white strands into cute little pigtails best as you could manage as he tells you about his dream; something about harassing nanami in malaysia and a sunset kiss under crystal clear beach water. it sounds nice, and when you're done with his hair you find it easier to just massage his shoulders and listen to the smooth droning of his voice.
soon enough, you're both warmer than the lukewarm buzz of beer in your veins, and he doesn't remember if he fell asleep first or not, but the gentle melody of your voice haunts him in his dazed sleep as he curls around you.
business dinners really are exhausting— he's left wondering how you pull it off the morning after when he's hungover and the cut on his finger is infected— clearly, the hello kitty bandaid wasn't enough to cut it. the only reasoning that he explains to you as you take your morning shower together, fingers running through your hair, is that you didn't kiss it enough. maybe that's why his soup had too much pepper and he didn't know how to cut the cucumbers.
he's still an amateur, so he'll leave the cooking to you. maybe next time he'll pretend the takeout he grabbed on his way home from school was handmade, though he doubts his friends will ever believe him, or his students after he demands they buy him kikufuku as compensation for leaving him out the night before.
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ignore the ep that came out today! everyone’s alive and well. trust my (riaki) stuff. don’t repost and/or plagiarize !
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theliterarywolf · 2 months
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"Lol, how did people even do essays and shit before ChatGPT?"
You used your brain, Sandra. I know in an age where everybody is addicted to 5-second instant-gratification, that notion is hard to believe but it is, in fact, what education is actually for:
Teaching people how to use their brains rather than what to parrot.
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unmellowyellowfellow · 5 months
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please soothe my curiosity by answering this poll. i've been thinking about it forever
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ayilings · 2 months
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they’re formative yaoi to me
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starrysharks · 1 month
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would a person on hiatus do THIS?!?!?!?@?@?@?@
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nobodysdaydreams · 8 months
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WIP and Published Fics Ask Game (reblog to play and feel free to drop the emojis/questions in the ask box!)
Questions about WIPs:
🥰 a fluff WIP snippet
😂 a funny or crack WIP snippet
😭 angst or sad WIP snippet
🤩a WIP snippet about or with dialogue from ________ [name of a character]. If you don’t have one for that character, choose someone else!
❓ any WIP snippet you want!
Questions about published fics:
📖 a published snippet from _________ [published work of theirs you haven't had read yet, but are curious about]
😔published lines or a section of a fic that was super sad, angsty, or difficult to write?
😍 published lines or a section of a fic that you loved writing?
🎁name a published gift fic someone has given you that you love and can't recommend enough (be sure to tag the author. Or if you don't have an AO3 or haven't been gifted a fic, what kind of fic would you like to be gifted?)
🤔 ____________? [ask the author a question about any of their published works, such as what the writing process was like, what their favorite fic is, or what character they like writing about].
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cosmophoriia · 2 months
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੭ — levels of intimacy.
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ღ request from: @generousvintagevictorianeagle — hi!! can you please write some dialogue prompts about a relationship/ intimacy within partners/ and caring for each other type beat… fluff and maybe a little angst and smut… much appreciated!!
ღ warnings : some angst + smut mentioned!
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"when’s the last time you ate something?"
“let me run you a nice soothing bath.”
“you look so beautiful, baby.” “babe, i just woke up.” “you’re always beautiful even if you just woke up.”
“let’s cuddle on the couch and watch your favorite movie.”
“i got you a present, i hope you like it.”
“why didn’t you just tell me you needed a break?”
“i’m sorry about what happened, i’m here if you ever need to talk about it.”
“hey… hey… why are you crying?”
“are you okay?”
“this is a great opportunity for you, i thought you would be happy but why do you look so sad?”
“you know you can tell me anything right?”
“can’t sleep.” “i tried absolute everything but nothing.” pulling you even closer as they say “you haven’t tried everything, i think i can get you to fall asleep”
“wanna take this to the bed?”
“we can take things slow if you want?”
“fuck… you’re so good.”
“please… go harder.”
“you look so pretty as you squirm under me.”
“let me clean you up.”
“such a good girl f’me.”
“is this okay?” character a ask before going any further and character b simply nods their head. “use your words baby.”
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An example of queercoding in Alhaitham and Kaveh's relationship: Madam Faruzan edition
Due to the rules in place for game development in China, the possibility for queer confirmation within Genshin Impact is denied, which therefore renders the usage of characters alluding to the potential romantic connection between two same-sex characters as impossible. However, the same insinuation can be made by omitting specific language which strictly conveys romantic sentiments, such as ‘couple’. Instead, the idea of secrecy or something unmentionable can be drawn upon as indicators, as this draws parallels to the taboo of homosexuality practiced within certain cultures and media forms, which the real world audience can identify.  
For example, Alhaitham and Kaveh as secret housemates. This can be used to convey an idea of ‘taboo’ as Kaveh desires to protect his reputation by concealing his shame of having to live with Alhaitham. In-game, the context here is that Kaveh wants to uphold his reputation of a successful architect, but within Alhaitham’s Story Quest, upon the player’s discovery of Kaveh living with Alhaitham, this context is omitted for some time. This prompts Paimon to question what exactly Alhaitham and Kaveh’s relationship is, with Kaveh denying that the two used to be friends but are not anymore: “I wouldn’t say ‘friends’ exactly”.
This tactic of double entendre can be seen again in A Parade of Providence when Paimon almost reveals Kaveh’s living situation to Faruzan.
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Faruzan’s can be observed to resort to a thinking pose, in comparison with Layla, when Alhaitham is mentioned in relation to Kaveh wanting to buy property, as Paimon almost ‘outs’ the truth, that Kaveh resides with Alhaitham.
She then seemingly dwells upon the subject, as she returns to it after Kaveh requests for a change of topic later in the conversation. Here, Faruzan follows up on whether Kaveh lives alone, which he fails to deny. 
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Here, it can be seen that she has already began associating Kaveh and Alhaitham, possibly speculating that the two live together. When Kaveh fails to supply an answer, therefore not denying her theory, she explicitly ties the two together, and asks if the two are “hiding” something.  
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This question evokes a physical reaction from Kaveh, as he denies this question out of fear of being revealed, with Paimon opting to leave in order to cover her role in revealing Kaveh’s predicament.  
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A deliberate potentiality has been created here in regard to what Faruzan has inferred, as her phrasing of “are you two hiding something from me?” is non-specific. Rather than asking: “are you two living together?”, she asks a question which holds multiple connotations. Due to the ambiguity of her meaning, her question can be observed as a non-explicit version of the: “are you two a couple?” question.
On the surface, this question is a reference to their situation as roommates, however, her phrasing is non-specific, and hints to another cause for “hiding” something. For Faruzan, Kaveh’s blatant evasion of the topic and dismissal of Alhaitham’s name, could easily be inferred as “hiding” a romantic connection – which is something that the player, too, can pick up on from her gesture of suspicion, her inquisitive questioning, and her excitement when piecing together the clues. The ambiguity of her question generates multiple meanings as to why she has surmised the two could be “hiding”.  
This overt secrecy in Kaveh’s living with Alhaitham, another man, prompts the player to generate associations between this in-game secrecy and real world queer shame. In this, there is an implication of the need for Kaveh to confirm the status of his relationship between him and Alhaitham. Not only does this scene connotate an ‘outing’, in which a queer character has their queerness forcibly revealed to a heteronormative audience, but this creates a sense of secrecy, which, again, can be interpreted by the player as ‘taboo’.  
Kaveh does not want to tell anyone of his living situation out of preserving his stellar reputation, however, Faruzan is missing this context. She relates Alhaitham and Kaveh together in the phrasing “you two”, coupling them together in a secret that they “hid[e]”. The player understands this as indicating to their living situation, however, this creates a separate context which Faruzan has interpreted and that, we, as the audience are not privy to, but can interpret based on her allusions to cohabitation between two men being a secret.
Whilst this is not explicitly romantic within Genshin’s world of nameless sexuality, Faruzan’s ambiguous questioning here draws parallels between real world understanding of sexuality and the connotations of queerness which stems from two men living together in secret. 
(Update: For more analyses like this, the essay this is taken from is now uploaded! It can be accessed here and here as as a pdf <3)
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ailithnight · 1 year
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*Whoops. Forgot to title and link previous chapters. Fight me, I just woke up.
A King in Arkham
Chapter 3
Chapter 1 Chapter 2
"Tim. Tim you have to get me copies of this footage." Tim is not surprised by the request. In fact, the 'Sure' is already on his tongue when he pauses, a thought creeping into his head, seeded by the notification Tim really hopes Jason isn't paying attention to in the bottom corner of the computer.
"One condition."
"Fuck you, I knew you'd want something. What? You want my cookies? Coffee? For Red Hood to go on camera singing praises for Red Robin? I'll fuckin do it. Just send me the god damn clips."
"Nope, nope, and tempting, but no."
"Name your price, Replacement. I'll pay it."
"Swear you aren't going to go rush in and extract the kid until we're done investigating him."
"What!? Fuck that! I told you was pulling him out next chance I get!" Tim lets himself groan in annoyance.
"Look, anyone that could do that-" Tim gestures to the part of the screen where they'd pulled up The Joker's medical reports following the incidents, showing pictures and descriptions of just how thoroughly Daniel had beat his ass 3 weeks in a row, "without getting so much as a scratch or fucking bruise in return, has got something going on. There may well be a reason they sent him to Arkham!"
Jason's eyes narrow at Tim as he all but growls, "No reason is good enough to put-"
"A fifteen year old in Arkham. I fucking know that, Hood. But we still need to know exactly who we're dealing with when we get him out. What his deal is. If his dangerous. What the hell was so wrong with him that someone thought it was a good idea to stick him in there to begin with."
"He could get hurt while we're sitting on our asses trying to satisfy fuckin Bat paranoia!"
"He took down the Joker! Clearly he can take care of himself."
"Then who has been hurting him!?"
"Maybe him fucking self!" Tim knew he was pushing it. The green growing stronger in Jason's eyes was proof. But he needed to buy them some time before Jason made thing exponentially harder by storming the castle. Still, now he needed to calm Jason down before he went into a full rage. So Tim held up his hands placatingly.
"A few days, Jay. Just give us a few more days. I'm already almost through the Arkham reports, and there are only a handful from Chicago and Oracle is probably going to announce any minute now that she got through the communications blackout around his home town. We just need a bit more time to sort out intel so that we actually know how to help him once we get him out."
Finally, after a tense 34 seconds, green fades back into blue and Jason let's out a heavy sigh.
"Fine. But I get to tell the Bat about Daniel's discipline slips. Wanna see his fuckin face when I do."
"Deal." Tim hurriedly puts a comm in as Jason watches with narrowed eyes.
Batman.
Red Robin. Ready to fill me in?
Not yet, you're about to be busy. I isolated a pattern earlier. Exactly 15 minutes before the locks malfunction, there's been a strange power surge. Always written off. But the surge doesn't seem to be coming from the grid. And like I said, exactly 15 minutes later is when the locks malfunction.
Jason huffs as he catches on. Apparently he hadn't thought to question why Tim was so desperate to buy time before.
Robin responds, since he's on stakeout with Bruce. Mostly because Bruce won't let him watch the asylum alone. Much as the kid hates it, the rest of the family agrees. It's only a matter of time before someone in max security manages to take advantage of theses malfunctions. So far Croc is the only one who had, though thankfully he's not one to start shit on his own. But with Joker, Scarecrow, and TwoFace all inside; any one of them, or god forbid all three, could make for a real bad situation.
Tt. So you can tell before a malfunction happens.
Think so. Last power surge was 8 minutes ago.
And you are only telling us now, why Drake?
Codenames.
Cause he spent those 8 convincing me not to go get our kid out yet.
6 minutes. See if you can stop things before they start.
I'm not far out. Want me to join you?
Tt. I doubt we'll need your assistance, Signal. We shall be done before you get here.
No wait. Signal, head in. See if you can get a read on 26B.
You think he might be meta?
Hood?
Jason glares at Tim betrayed.
"I wanted to see his fuckin face."
Tim just waves him off.
"They need to know. You tell them or I do."
Boys
Jason scowls, but relents.
He put the Joker in the infirmary on his 1st, 7th, and 15th days there. All 3 times took no damage himself. Feral child had to be pulled off and still didn't stop struggling till the clown was out of sight.
All 3 assaults followed by panic attacks, though whether about the Joker himself or what Daniel had done to him, we don't know yet.
The comms were silent for a moment.
A 15 year old...
Did what you've never had the balls to old man.
...I've fought the Joker.
Daniel hits first.
Hnn
I will admit, it is impressive that he can take the Joker down alone. Perhaps he will make for a worthy brother after all.
4 minutes.
We're moving in. Thank you Red Robin, Hood.
The fuck are you thanking me for?
For helping. And giving us time to work this out.
ETA 7 minutes out. Be with you shortly.
.
The advanced warning proved invaluable for Batman and Robin. After alerting the chief of security of their supposed pattern, he had guards already in motion when the doors swung open. Batman took a perch to watch for max security escapees while Robin assisted the guards in keeping inmates corralled. Many didn't even bother to leave their designated areas, having already seen the Bats in the building.
No sign of any max security inmates. Normally, Batman would find this concerning. And while he did file it away to ponder later why no one from max security ever seemed to make it out of that wing, for today he counted the blessing that he would not have to try to keep Robin safe while dealing with someone like the Joker.
Batman tracked motion through the crowds, watching as a black mop of hair moved, seemingly otherwise unnoticed, through the sea of people. He thought to move in to direct the person back towards where people were being herded to, but the small figure merely walked towards the B wing and entered one of the far cells. That gave Bruce a sneaking suspicion of which patient that was. He moved to get a closer look as Signal swooped in.
"Where is he?"
"I believe he just went into his cell. This way." Batman led Signal to the cell he'd seen that tiny person enter. It was indeed 26B and there was indeed a small, too small, frail looking boy lying on the bed there. A red blotch had appeared under his left eye even though Bruce was certain there had been no injury there as the boy had crossed the hall.
Signal froze beside him, breath stuttering. The boy briefly glanced at them through the corner of his eye, mouth twitching into a brief frown. Then his eyes turned back to the ceiling and his face smoothed out. Bruce couldn't help but reach out.
"Hello." The boy said nothing. Signal opened and closed his mouth, seeming to try to say something, but unable to get words out. Batman wondered what he must be seeing. "You seem hurt. Do you need help?" Eyes flickered back to him and away just as quickly.
"Nothing you can help with Mr. Batman." And oh, how Bruce hated the kid's voice. So quiet and so so hollow. Bruce's mind flashed to his children, imagining any them speaking with such emptiness. His heart clenched, wondering what could have happened to this boy to have snuffed the life out of him so young.
Duke found his voice again, just as the doors buzzed and swung shut again.
"What are you?" Bruce frowned, looking at his latest. Who was looking, as Bruce tracked his gaze, not at Daniel but at the space just above him. Daniel himself seemed to take interest all of a sudden, breaking away his upward gaze to roll his head and look at them. Confusion plain on his face, the first hint of life shining dimly in his eyes.
"Signal? Signal, what do you see?" Batman asked. Robin materialized beside them. The daytime hero stepped forward, then back, light sparking and fizzling around his fingertips.
"There's something in there with him."
Daniel looked back up, where Signal still had his gazed trained on something Batman couldn't see. Even Robin seemed confused, though he no doubt trusted Signal's meta sight.
"Don't worry," Daniel murmured, "S'just a ghost. She can't hurt you."
This 'ghost' seemed unhappy either with the teen's words or this turn of events. Daniel's head snapped back to the side again, causing Batman and Signal to wince while Robin watched stoically. 4 red scratches appeared on Daniel's right cheek, as though he had been backhanded by someone with clawlike nails. A light chill brushed through him and Signal tensed, then relaxed, his gaze finally turning from the emptiness above Daniel to the boy himself. Batman took that as a sign that the... entity, was gone.
Daniel did not react to the obvious abuse from an invisible assailant. He mechanically turned his head back, once more dead and glazed eyes returning to the cracks in the ceiling of his cell. "You should go now. The guards will come around soon to make sure I'm still here."
Bruce wanted so badly to say 'Don't worry, we'll get you out of here.' But Batman was more restrained than that. He would get the child out. But he would have a plan first. For now, Bruce placed a hand each on the shoulders of Duke and Damien, guiding them away. Only when they were back outside did Bruce let them go. Only when they were perched on a rooftop half a block away did Batman pause.
"Robin, report."
"No escaped inmates and no sign of any from maximum security."
"Good. Signal, any information on what you saw in there." Duke rubbed at his eyes.
"A ghost, I guess? I don't know. It was weird. She didn't really have an aura. It was more like, an absence of aura. Like she was a black hole, drawing all the light in."
Even behind the domino, Bruce could tell Damien rolled his eyes.
"And what of the patient, Thomas? Was he not the one you were sent to look at?" Batman bit back the reprimand for codenames, more interested in Signal's response. Signal seemed to think for a moment, then shook his head.
"He definitely had a pretty distinct aura. It... felt powerful. But it looked weak. Dim. When the ghost... struck him, it flared up a bit, but died back down almost instantly. I... I get the feeling he was holding it back. Almost like he was afraid of it. Of himself."
"Hnn. Good job Signal. Robin. You two are welcome to head back to the cave. I'll take the rest of this Arkham shift."
At that moment, the comms crackled to life.
Actually B, you may want to come in, also. Arkham should be fine. And I found why they sent the kid there.
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qtubbo · 5 months
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Note: For people who were just watching Phil’s POV, while this was still present it much harder to notice how genuinely insecure Phil was making Sunny feel, being much more blatant with full context of who Sunny is through Tubbo’s entire POV of them.
QPhil was incredibly mean spirited towards Sunny, to the point where it felt much more purposeful rather than Phil just being in a weird mood, he was also unnecessary judgement towards Tubbo’s parenting. To an extreme unmatched by any of the other older parents to any of the new parents, constantly mocking Tubbo’s builds, abilities, and rules. While he started off very pleasant towards if not a bit confused, as the day progressed and later conversation from Phil about Sunny he became more bluntly resentful and annoyed. The easiest way to simplify his actions is to consider him acting like Tubbo’s cruel mother in law, if you know the trope.
I think this was done from the simple fact that he missed his kids, and was projecting his own relationship with Tallulah onto Tubbo and Sunny. A lot of how he treated Sunny at the beginning was more similar to how he treats Tallulah and as the day went by the more certain I felt that he was projecting Tallulah onto Sunny. He was more critical of his parenting because he wanted for Sunny what he would want for Tallulah, he rejected a lot of Sunny’s actual wants because he knows what’s good enough for his daughter and what Tubbo was doing wasn’t enough. This is also why he was rejecting of Sunny’s actual wants because he was coping through her, anytime Sunny strayed off what Tallulah wanted it was hurting his illusion and therefore needed to be squashed.
Sunny came off as cold to Phil, because instead of giving her bright personality to him it was given to Tubbo. The more they strayed from Tallulah’s personality the harder it was to continue pretending, he wanted Tallulah and got Sunny, and he resented Sunny for that. I fully doubt this was on purpose, rather Phil was subconsciously projecting is own daughter on to Tubbo’s. Nothing Sunny could have done would have made Phil love her, even though she was trying so hard to be loved by the man their Pa looks up to. This becomes even more obvious when you compare his relationship to Sunny to his one with Empanada. While I don’t consider Em and Tallulah to be very close in personality, I think they are similar enough to scratch that itch for Phil and Empanada was less reserved then Sunny making Phil feel that was kinder than Sunny. Which was inevitably why he ended up saying the most hurtful thing of all about Sunny to Tallulah.
“Sunny’s nice I’ve met with them, and talked to them about stuff. She likes money.”
“Oh look over there, there’s Empanada! You’ll really like Empanada!”
He said this to comfort Tallulah but he still said it in front of Sunny, Kids notice that stuff when you talk about them like an afterthought, and then the next kid with full blown excitement it hurts. You’ll like Empanada you won’t like Sunny.
Also I’ll analyze Tubbo and Phil’s relationship more in another post, since I’ve seen a lot of conversation around it right now and I wanted to say something on its own. As a second note I took out a lot of the crueler comments Phil said in private since while he did say them, I would only include them if I had quotes as to not accidentally villainize him through misremembering.
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fictionadventurer · 6 months
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I have a germ of a theory that good Christian fiction has stories that are less about shaving down your personality to meet some specific mold of what a good Christian looks like, and more about "how gloriously different are all the saints."
Not that the Christian life doesn't involve fighting against our own sinful nature and conforming ourselves to Christ-like behavior, but I think it makes for better, more realistic, and more universal stories when you also recognize that people have different gifts and flaws and they're going to be called to use their unique personalities to serve the kingdom of God in their own unique way, instead of assuming everyone has to conform themselves to a very specific (often secular-culturally based) image of good behavior. It makes for a much more vibrant story.
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iwasbored777 · 6 months
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Just a thought but I feel like Spiderverse fans are projecting their hatred for Gwen onto Miles cuz in post-ATSV fics there's no way he would use that kind of language with her. There's a difference between "he would say this" and "I want him to say this". Sure argument will happen but the kind of stuff y'all write is against everything his character stands for.
He's giving "nice" guy after being rejected instead of a good guy who's angry and hurt.
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