aetherarf

[aetherarf]

So being totally transparent as you can tell I've not posted, I've fought and tried so hard to get back into Genshin, but I can't. I hate it more and more everyday. I don't regret my time with it, I don't regret what I've written, but it's time to stop.

Genshin is going down a path I don't want to support, I understand it's a big game, but it's falling into just the same basic anime garbage, and with Natlan and all the EXTREMELY pale characters with name and character origins relating to black or African culture, I find this absolutely disgusting, and deplorable.

Fontaine also crushed my love with Skirk, as she reeks of HSR [which I also hate, for varying reasons] as well as the way that she says the Whale is just a 'pet' feels crushing as a player, that everything I've done is worthless, and now I just don't care.

If you enjoy the game, then I won't stop you. But I would point out that this game is turning into slop. Sumeru was already a bad sign with how they used POC names for white characters, but at least there was ounces of value, at least they still kind of tried, but Natlan has no excuse, and each time I see what they're doing with the game, it's just slop on slop.

I won't ask anyone to play it, but I am just announcing that I'm done. I'm entirely done.

Thank you all for those who supported me back when I wrote, and I hope you all have a good life. My inbox remains open, and this sideblog is still attached to the blog I use on-and-off, so I believe messages will go through.

Have a good day, and remember: Vote with your dollar, and with your time.

[aetherarf]

Do you know that "why not" "I wish you were a girl" trend could you write something based on that with Kaeya, Childe and Diluc?. (With a male pov, because it's like a guy in denial that he likes another guy so he's like "man I love you if only you were a girl")

... i do not know this trend. Important thing to know about Bark! I literally am under a rock. This is the most social media I use. I only watch very old youtube videos of games [just because they're usually the only ones that interest me]. Feel free to reach out and show me examples, though! I may be under a rock but I don't mind new things!

[aetherarf]

Would you be comfortable in doing a scenario with diluc or childe was a small kid who's been abused in some way? , maybe the kid is around 7 or 8

Hello,

Yes! Though I'd need a bit more details than this about the genuine prompt and I will likely not be writing much of the 'act' of abuse because... well, I don't think anyone wants to hear about actively terrible things being done to a kid. More focused on the comfort aspect than the hurt aspect.

[aetherarf]

A surprising amount of votes, but at the end of the day, naming him won!

I'll likely be calling him 'Kaiyo' unless anyone has better recommendations.

Note: most likely I'm going to call him Kaiyo because I like that name.

[aetherarf]

Note: most likely I'm going to call him Kaiyo because I like that name.

[aetherarf]

Are you ok with rarepairs and/or weirder requests?

have you seen my blog? absolutely.

[aetherarf]

Note: most likely I'm going to call him Kaiyo because I like that name.

[aetherarf]

BEGGING for requests atm

[aetherarf]

Note: most likely I'm going to call him Kaiyo because I like that name.

[aetherarf]

Note: most likely I'm going to call him Kaiyo because I like that name.

[aetherarf]

Note: most likely I'm going to call him Kaiyo because I like that name.

[aetherarf]

Hi there, saw you did a lot of stuff for Rosaluc a while ago. I really really really need to see Rosaria get the shot beaten out of her and Diluc be the like best trucking caretaker ever. PLEASE. I NEED GORE, MAN.

If you don’t wanna, that’s totally ok! No pressure! Have a great day or night, and thanks!

Hello!

Posted HERE.

[aetherarf]

REQUESTED BY @three-fourths-anonymous

Hi there, saw you did a lot of stuff for Rosaluc a while ago. I really really really need to see Rosaria get the shot beaten out of her and Diluc be the like best trucking caretaker ever. PLEASE. I NEED GORE, MAN.

[[ TW: Gore [Probably not as extreme as the asker wanted tbh], injury, blood, talks of fighting and violence but none directly ]]

[[ Word Count: 1'593 ]]

It was one of those days. 

Mondstadt was never peaceful, because nowhere was peaceful… and that was life. People would always feel they deserved more and didn’t want to do it the right way. And maybe they did- maybe they deserved a lot better. 

But, honestly, Rosaria didn’t care. 

Not when someone would threaten her. Not when they pleaded. Not when they would throw everything they had at her, only to ultimately fail. 

… Not that it was entirely in vain, but she didn’t really care. Messes to be left for later. Wounds to be treated now. 

She rested her hand on her arm- it was most definitely broken. But her bigger concern was the bleeding. Blood dribbled from her nose, she could taste it on her lips, bitter and disgusting, but familiar. 

For a few moments, standing over the mess she made, she just stood there, wobbling slightly, staring blankly at nothing- she knew she was pale- like- very pale- but she felt like she was worse than usual, if that was possible. 

Probably wasn’t, but the feeling, the sinking feeling remained. 

Her body ached- from blades to brute force to fists- and one of them even bit her like he was a dog, she didn’t really want to move. Rather, her body didn’t want to move. 

But, step by agonizing step, she made her way forward, her shoes clicking on the ground, as she made her way by, blearily looking around, taking the familiar path back to normal streets, as empty as they were, anyone who saw her usually knew better and looked away, rushing back into their homes, as she practically closed her eyes, her feet carrying her forward.

Only when she passed by a window, did she pause, and get a look at herself. 

How… brutal, she looked. It almost hurt, seeing it again. 

Her busted nose, bleeding and twisted into a purple red, her blackening eye, red and already swollen, the blood oozing from a deep, brutal wound in her arm, bruises so severe, blunt damage so extreme, it tore her skin alone. 

With heavy steps, she turned to face herself, she knew she was going to get a hell of a talking to. But she always did, so what was new about this? Maybe they’d put her on a break for a little bit, to heal. She lifted her hand to her nose, to wipe the blood, but saw how it twitched, how even her hands couldn’t grasp much, couldn’t articulate much, just… Just short of broken, or stabbed clean through. 

Little mercies. 

A part of herself couldn’t spare herself the extended view, it was like every time she looked at a different spot, she recognized herself less and less, and recognized one of those mangled bodies she would leave behind to be found by those who would not miss them. 

… But, well, maybe the pain was too severe, or she was just sick of the view, but she managed to get moving, anyway, if she was any faster, she’d be stumbling like a drunk- she’d almost prefer that if it wasn’t for the risk of falling and doing something far worse to her own body… But it didn’t matter. She didn’t need to open her eyes as she felt the familiar shadows, the familiar smells and ambiance as she walked in, and pressed her hand against a wooden door, hearing a familiar creek as she walked her way in, step by step… and sat down. 

She sat there, for a second, and thought for a long few moments, waiting for a sister to come yelling at her, but…

No one came. Sure, it was late, but it was never empty like this…

Until she remembered- the creak. 

They would never tolerate the entrance doors creaking. 

Additionally, they were not wooden- well, they were, but with all the gaudy decals and decorations, it didn’t feel like it. 

She lifted her head, and her gaze ran along a series of bottles of liquid, then looked down, to the slightly wine-stained counters. 

… How… amusing. 

She’s at the Angel’s Share… 

… Well, she always loves getting a drink here. But even for a tavern, it was open late… well, this tavern, anyway, it had a pretty rigid schedule. 

But the door was open- it wasn’t even locked, so… 

“... Rosaria?”

Her head lolled to the side, as she saw that warm red hair, and a slightly concerned expression- only slight due to his own expressionless nature rather than a lack of shock- from the bartender and owner himself. 

“... Well, the door was open,” She explained, and he exhaled tightly, 

“You shouldn’t be sitting up.” He said sternly, and she rolled her eyes as he walked around to help her sit down on the ground, her back against the wall, and she exhaled. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but her aching muscles sung hymns in rejoice… just to have a few moments to rest. 

“Stay.”

Rosaria sighed quietly, as he set his hand on her shoulder- careful, in case that, too was injured, before standing up, leaving her to rest. She just sat there, feeling like she was bleeding out- like a drunk so lost in the sauce they faded away from their addiction. Of course, that’d be her fate one day, but…

… 

What was taking him so long?

She reached up shakily, grabbing the edge of the bar, and trying to get her leg beneath her, before-”

“I’m right here, sit down.”

She paused, before letting her arm nearly hit the ground beside her as it went slack, no longer struggling.

“I was wondering where you were.”

“I haven’t left. I’m just making sure I have everything and preparing the worst of it before I have to get working on you.”

“What, am I paperwork?” Rosaria replied dryly, 

“About as pleasant to look at, when you’re like this,” Diluc said back, somewhat sharp, before he paused, “... I have some painkillers for you, to take the edge off.”

“I’d prefer a drink,” Rosaria replied, as she saw Diluc come back into view, with the first aid kit, having some things prepared, resting on top. 

“I’m sure you would,” He replied, only setting the things down before he stood again, and walked off- but he didn’t take long this time, “Open.”

“I can do it myself.”

“You can. Open.” Diluc insisted, and she opened her mouth, letting him set two pills into her mouth, and a glass of water against her lips. He was slow with it, letting her take small sips, until she closed her lips, and he got the hint to pull it back. 

“... Gross.”

“I know, I know. Good medicine is bitter.”

“Who told you that?” Rosaria asked, as Diluc got a bottle of cleansing liquid. 

“My father. It’s true, though. Did you get debris in your swollen eye?”

“No, just a punch.”

Diluc was quiet for a moment, before accepting her answer, and he worked to pour the liquid generously over her wounds, it stung, and it burned, but there was a sort of peace to the pain, now, knowing it was mending…

Or maybe these were fast-acting painkillers. 

He worked on her quietly, and diligently. Of course, they both had experience taking care of wounds, but… Was it so sinful to say she preferred Diluc doing it, compared to anyone else? It was nice. He was always gently. Even the Sisters would be rough, saying it gets worse before it gets better, but he never said that. He never made it worse before he made it better. 

… Maybe she was just sentimental, though. 

At some point, he began working on wiping the excess, now crusty blood on her, wiping her face carefully, 

“Do you think your nose is broken to the point of needing work?”

“No,” Rosaria replied, “Besides, I don’t care about looking pretty.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t want to lose your sense of smell, though. Bad for wine.”

Rosaria huffed quietly- her nose felt so gross and clogged, but blowing it would not be beneficial. 

“Fine, fine. I concede. But I think it’ll be fine. It was the full-force to my head more than just to my nose.”

Diluc seemed doubtful, but he trusted her. 

He always did. 

After some time, she could feel it all over her- bits and patches of constricted fabric. It wasn’t awful, but it wasn’t great… Better than the feeling of exposed wounds, though. 

She closed for a moment, until she heard him sigh, and opened her eyes to look at him. 

“... How am I supposed to drag you back to the winery?” 

“Just leave me… or bring me to the Cathedral.”

“The Cathedral is only slightly more put together than the Knights… besides, they don’t have any healing there worth making you deal with it.”

Rosaria exhaled, 

“... I can walk.”

“Not well.”

“But I can walk,”

Diluc exhaled.

“... Look, I’ll just get us a hotel room for the night. I’ll attest to your state before we return to the Winery tomorrow.”

“We?”

“I don’t trust you to care for yourself.”

Rosaria… chuckled, softly, though it was only for a few brief seconds, before it just died away. 

“... Good idea, honestly.” Rosaria sighed, “... Still. I’m not your responsibility.”

“I know.”

“... you know I’m going to take a bottle of wine.”

“... I know that, too. Just rest for a few minutes. I’ll find a hotel or something in the meantime.”

“... thanks.”

Rosaria watched as he walked off, seemingly going to handle something. 

… 

What a worrywart.

It was nice. 

[aetherarf]

I hope this is a good prompt:

Can I please request Scaramouche reacting to his S/O giving up their vision to replace his heart so he can feel again, and now the reader is like everyone else who's lost their vision and barely remembers him?

Preferably hurt/comfort but heavy on the hurt if you want ^-^

So I've saved this ask for so long it became canon that Scaramouche DOESN'T actually 'not feel' and he's just tsundere but I want this anon to know I adore this ask. I've saved this ask. This ask has influenced a novel series I work on for fun. It literally has foundationally changed it. I want to write an entire massive story about this but knowing how they've kinda ruined the idea of 'emotionless scara' [granted, I do kinda like him now still, but not as much] makes me feel like I can't really write this but I want the world to see this prompt.

[aetherarf]

tiny headcanon for lyney and lynette is that they BOTH can basically pull some [literal, not performative] magic for their animal features. Usually, Lyney chooses to go without, Lynette with, to have SOME way to truly feel unique to themselves.

In public, anyway.

[aetherarf]

Yearning for Timelessness Ch. 1

Read on AO3!

Hey! I'm aware I'm dead as hell, but if anyone's interested, I'm on and off working on a Kavetham fic on Ao3! Feel free to pop over if you're interested!

[aetherarf]

I have a very specific headcanon about Alhaitham- specifically relating to his gender.

He is AFAB. He does not care. He is not even inherently masculine. He is not feminine. He doesn't really consider himself androgynous, either. He doesn't care. Saying Agender or non-binary doesn't work either, because he's not those either. That's implying he has some kind of self-identification, when really he's completely opted out.

Alhaitham doesn't care about pronouns- He, She, They, there's no preference. Most people default to "He" as... well, it's an accident, really.

He wears binders as he finds his chest in the way and obnoxious, but not enough so to warrant surgery. They also serve some purpose in his comfort, so there's no reason to do away with them fully. He uses estrogen/hormone blockers to stop his period and other side effects of an AFAB body that are not exactly convenient. He cuts his hair short as it's a pain to handle- if it's more than a comb running through his hair it's more effort than he's willing to put in for something he cares little for. Just because many of these things make him appear masculine, none of it was intentional.

He also doesn't wish to have bottom surgery as, while 'wetness' and going to the bathroom might be a little more cumbersome [key word: might] than if he had opposing equipment, he finds the benefit of not having an additional part of his body to need to maintain and position and, god forbid, get hurt by a very precise kick.

Alhaitham doesn't care about gender, nor how he presents. They're just... a bother to him at best, a burden at worst.

[This is a great confusion to Kaveh, who experimented with being a transwoman in the past only to affirm his connection with masculinity and a renewed appreciation for feminine beauty, is incredibly confused by Alhaitham's complete lack either way. He respects it, even if he doesn't understand it.]