Arranged marriage AU with Barbarian Bakugou who is so daunting to be around at first. He’s all gruff curses and broad shoulders and scarred cheeks and neck and jaw. He scowls constantly, stares at you while your parents auction you off like some show pig, but doesn’t say much to you besides a grunt of his name. You’re terrified, thinking that he’ll be cruel to you, that you’re being set up for a life full of unhappiness and terror and regret.
But he’s the exact opposite. Bakugou is gentle in ways a man of his size typically wouldn’t be, but he shrinks himself for you. Not in a way that diminishes his status as the newly appointed king, but to respect you, show you that you’re beside him instead of behind him.
He picks you berries on his hunts because he knows the smell of a fresh kill brings nausea to your stomach. You find him along with the other maidens and helpers around his village, sitting beside them, big fingers holding tiny little flowers that he weaves into a crown for you. When he sets it on your head, he purses his lips, mutters something under his breath in his language that you’re still not too familiar with, but sure it means something along the lines of pretty and soft.
And when he finds you bathing in the river only few have access to, he’s sweet the whole time. Doesn’t make a spectacle of you being naked, and is relieved when you don’t instantly cower when he wades his way over to you. You try not to stare at the clawed scars that decorate his pec and jaw when he stands above you, and it helps when he suddenly dumps water all over your head. He shushes you when you splutter, continues on with cupping his hands and letting the water run off of your hair and down your shoulders, scrubbing at your skin until your flesh squeaks. He doesn’t expect you to do the same for him, but he hums in satisfaction when you push him down a little lower so you can wash the crown of his head.
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chat, is this real? (god i wish it wasn't.)
so uh. according to this thread its very possible that Level-5 is using ai art. thats fucking fantastic. thanks guys. definitely not a spit in the face to your fans who've loved you for years for your unique art direction. no. not at all :) /VERY SAR
it doesn't matter if they're "just using it for concept art" or whatever. they're still using it and its fucking gross. As a Yo-Kai Watch fan of almost 10 years now, I am truly disgusted. I hope they recall this decision and go back to using exclusively real artists, or they'll lose a lot of fans (including myself, which would break my heart. I love Level-5 games to death.)
I'm still most likely going to buy Inazuma Eleven: Victory Road and Decapolice when they come out, because most likely if the use of AI in scriptwriting/sidequests is real those will be rewritten in the English localization by actual people. Still doesn't change the concept art thing but i've been hyped for these games for too long to let that ruin it. If it goes any further than that tho, i'm probably going to tap out. Which sucks so much.
This is lazy at best and downright harmful to real artists at worst.
also why would you want it to look more like the anime bro the yo-kai watch anime was ass. thats just me tho askjfhakjhfkjafk
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And here is the bull himself >:)
+ lore notes
I was like, ah I should make the shadow something interesting, and then I'm like GIVE HIM BULL HORNS???? OKAY SURE !!!!! I'm glad such thoughts can strike at 7 in the morning....thanks brain. But hehehe I'm glad bcs now this matches up super well with the Nando one!
New ship dynamic: who's the bull and who's the matador :)
I think, in this AU, Fernando is generally pretty fond of Seb when he first meets him. Like "ah yes my very own protégé, very nice, I shall mold him in my image." But then Seb starts veering off that course. Bullfighting is all about being dramatic, but Seb maybe has a bit too much(🤏) flair for the dramatic. This escalation starts while he's still Fernando's assistant but he keeps it generally at bay. But god when he becomes a matador himself, he's just off the rails insane.
Bullfighting, to me, is a sport about reckless endangerment of one's self in the pursuit of drama and performance(its literally described as a tragedy in three acts.) But Fernando thinks Seb endangers himself *too* much, not because he cares or anything, but he's making a mockery of the sport!! Especially when Seb starts doing that bull hand symbol(seen above), Fernando just keeps become more enraged with him, not anything to do with the fact that Seb is threatening his records and threatening his own wellbeing, nah of course not.
Seb's gesture is making a mockery of the sport, he's disrespecting the culture, the very nature of it, blah blah blah. Jenson once asks Fernando, after noticing him seething while watching Seb do his gesture, "Which bull are you really trying to defeat?" One could also describe Fernando and Seb's relationship as a "tragedy with three acts."
Anyways Fernando gets very tied up with this rivalry. Even after suffering a severe injury(I have yet to decide, but y'know mchonda electrocution core), he quickly returns to the sport, loath to let Seb get any more headway. And then Seb gets injured, poor little sweet Seb, and neither of them can handle it. Though I already covered this in my prev lore post 🤭 and I think I put it pretty viscerally there so!! I digress.
They're both matadors, but the bull itself is not the only bull Fernando wants to conquer. Conquer as in death? Hm.
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verdict on jessica jones it's a certified banger and tackles extremely heavy themes with an incredible amount of respect and care and the weakest parts of it are when they try to connect it to the rest of the stupid god damn netflix mcu. like the finale could have been peak fiction if they had deleted all the scenes w the nurse from daredevil . regardless of that tho the character writing clears basically every other mcu project lol this show has th best female characters and also the best villain and frankly its a crime not more ppl recognize that . 9/10
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UNDELIVERED LETTER ( to : mama )
freestyle poetry / prose
a/n : might delete later i cried like 3 times writing this el o el
if i were a child again, i would be lying on the bed frame of my grandmother’s 8-levelled apartment in china. an old, wooden thing, my body separated by nothing but a thin sheet, small bones of my frame aching. for some reason, there was no mattress in that room.
a singular fan whirls loudly above, the white planes coated in speckles of dust and rusted metal.
the air is humid from the afterthought of rain, and the fabric chequered with knockoff cartoons sticks to my skin.
still, i sleep comfortably, dreaming of rainbow-frosted cakes and dozing kittens.
still, i will complain about it the next day, and my parents will relent and nestle the small body of a child between the two of them in the hotel room.
if i were a child again, my mother would still love me.
i see the way her face contorts at cropped t-shirts and tomboyish haircuts. how her lip curves downwards at my willingness to stuff and bundle my skin into too-tight clothes. the way she mourns the body of a child she could once carry in her arms and raise to the sky, sunlight blazing against long, dark hair.
now it’s too tall, lanky. bones jutting out awkwardly in her hold.
miserable in the new temperament, the venomous words spat at her that a child would never know the existence of yet. the skin of her hand crackles, wrinkles pinching at the joints from the chemicals in the laundry detergent, from the relentless scrubbing at a stain that will never leave. the hand reaches out towards her daughter still, and she runs, further. hair that slips through her fingers is chopped off.
she loves me still, tolerates the tantrums, buys the clothes, and pays for the haircuts.
she prefers the child.
my mother always preaches how similar i am to my father, the slope of our noses, the glimmer of dark pupils.
we both know i am more like her. the silvery laughter, the poisonous words. the ways our faces both darken at the sight of each other. or perhaps that is my wistful thinking.
which daughter does not idolise her mother?
mother. mom. māma. carve me out from your womb again. i will be the daughter you want. i will learn to speak your dialect, i will play the guzheng that you never had a chance to learn. i will be softer, gentler, prettier, intelligent but not audacious, and hold my tongue when i speak. i will wear the dresses you like, and my hair will tumble to my hips, braided by your hands. i will be everything you couldn’t, and everything you sacrificed.
i don’t fear anything else in the world.
māma, please don’t hate your daughter for growing up.
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