A short reader-insert story I wrote Thursday night as a way of dealing with my emotions after finding out Technoblade died. :(
Sort of gives the reader a chance to say goodbye.
Word count: 1717 words
Everyone saw Technoblade differently. Some of his officers spoke of his impossibly broad shoulders, and tireless right arm, while others recalled a mask of antlers and bone. Those who opposed him on the battlefield and managed to survive returned home with stories of âThe Blade,â an inhuman being more monster than man. Disbelieving nurses tending to wounded soldiers heard stories of an immortal being with blazing red eyes and the Devilâs hooves, âThe Blood God.â Visiting dignitaries recounted the visage of a stern man, wearing an imposing crown and immaculate clothing befitting his station as a prince. While many shrank from him in fear, the palace servants who took care of him seemed to see a little boy, soft and comely, who threatened far more than he ever intended to actually carry out. Without exception, animals loved him.
You saw your own version of Technoblade. To your eyes, he was a slender young man with flowing pink hair that shone in the sunlight, a man who moved with absolute grace and assurance, a man who stood straight and strong, with the kindest eyes.Â
NOTES: It's been a while since I wrote about my sweet cursed child. This one is pretty long and includes "What it is like to hang out with him". Let's dive in!
⎠Pretty obvious, but he doesn't know how to have friends, and if he ends up having one, it will be in extraordinary circumstances. Like with Yugi and everyone else, there needs to be an external reason why you two are in the same room (a tournament, business meeting, waiting for someone else, etc), and even then, he is not fond of just socializing for the sake of it; there are more important things in his mind and schedule than talking to strangers.
⎠In general, you need to catch his attention (it could be positive or negative) and have lots of forced interaction/proximity for Kaiba to consider you something more than a faceless, unimportant person. From then on, it is just luck lol
⎠I don't think he has a specific person he befriends because his idea of intrapersonal relationships is so distorted that they just happen in extraordinary situations. But one essential thing is that he needs to respect you.
⎠For example, Jounouchi made a bad first impression; it wasn't until his battle with Marik that he respected him as a duelist. From then on, he kind of acknowledged him and wouldn't mind hanging out with him if they were in the same room.
⎠But it's not like he would start chatting with Jounouchi; it is more like if Jounouchi started a conversation, he wouldn't ignore him and would even engage. They have also known each other for so long that it just happens that they are now what other people might consider friends.
⎠Like I say, it is very specific and circumstantial.
⎠A way to know if you two are friends is if he shows interest. Did you invite him to play some games at your house? He would ignore or mock them for having such an outlandish idea if it were anyone else. But with you, he would be silent for a second and then offer a better place to play the game or check his calendar to see if he has any available time.
⎠Would Kaiba say you are his friend? Never in his life. He just doesn't mind your company. And that is the biggest compliment: he is okay with your presence. That's all it takes lol
⎠Still, you simply cannot expect him to answer you in a timely manner. If you are not his brother, a stakeholder, or an employee, he will read your message and answer in four business days.
What does it look like hanging out with him?
⎠I believe hanging out with Kaiba would involve games (board games, video games, DnD, etc.). He would give his undivided attention and expect you to take this seriously as he does, and do your best to beat him. If it's DnD, he would get very involved, acting the scenes, adding music, just the whole immersion.
⎠Kaiba doesn't have a lot of free time, so the fact that he takes time out of his day to spend time with you is HUGE. Because of his serious face and intense personality, it might not seem like he is having a good time, but believe me, the fact that he is immersed in the games with you is his way to have fun.
⎠If he starts to taunt you that you might lose, or is a little mean, he is having a great time lol
⎠The more time you spend together, the more you will unlock other ways to hang out with Kaiba. His favorite is to exist together in the same space, while the other works on a project/homework/etc.
⎠You will have to be the one who proposes it at first, but over time, he will ask you about your work/school, comment that you should work on it, look at his watch, say he has to review a business presentation, and suggest stopping at an expensive cafe. This is his way of saying, "Let's spend time together."
⎠Kaiba doesn't mind silence. But if you want to chat, please don't make small talk. He feels you two are way past the point of talking as if you were coworkers or strangers, so he would find it odd. Ask about his work; he loves to talk about it. Anything related to his interests (new technology, his company, games, etc.) would be great conversation ideas.
⎠He is kind of obsessive, so the more he considers you a friend or someone relatively close to him, the more he will observe you. He will remember details about you; your favorite colour, the beverage you always ask, your game style, little quirks, etc.
⎠Kaiba would store that information without even noticing it.
⎠After a while, if you ever told him that your computer broke or your car needed to be fixed, he would help you. In his head, he convinces himself that you need those to work or go to school; it is a need, not a luxury. He doesn't do it for the goodness of his heart; it just happens that he has the means to fix it so you will stop moaning about it. Just that, nothing more.
⎠And because of this, you might start to enter the romantic territory...
â ăťăťăťăťăťăťâ
Well, that is all for now Îľ(´･â˘áâ˘`)㣠đ!! Thank you so much for reading!!
Itâs always such a pleasure to find platonic content!
And I agree wholeheartedly on the âKaiba doesnât do small talk, so if youâre gonna be his friend then you better be able to discuss something he finds interestingâ point.
Personally, I would go the extra mile to attempt to ensure he never caught any romantic feelings for me though. đ (Which seems eminently achievable.)
I donât have interest in drawing. By the time I was ten years old, I was already starting to do bits of recreational writing, but found drawing frustrating. Over the years, I tried my hand at drawing a few more times, got books from the library, put pencil to paper, followed tutorialsâbut it wasnât fun, it wasnât satisfying, and it certainly didnât create results remotely resembling what I wanted.
There are kids who doodle on everything from a young age, but I wasnât one of them. Despite my parents encouraging drawing, even including basic drawing instruction as part of my homeschool education, it never clicked for me. Maybe itâs because I struggle with remembering peopleâs faces, maybe itâs because I fundamentally donât understand color theory the way many people do (I had to memorize which clothing items matched or clashed with other clothing items but have been tested and am NOT color blind), or maybe Iâm simply too fundamentally lazy to find it in my heart to pursue the visual arts.
I liked writingâcadence, flavor, clarityâwriting was easier. As mentioned prior, I started writing at age ten, having realized it was the lazy manâs way to draw. If I could string together the right series of words, you would construct the image in your own brain.
Drawing was magic. Everyone prefers books with pictures. I loved the play of light and shadow in paintings, the soft inner glow of refraction in gemstones pictured in masterpieces predating my birth by centuries. But maybe, if I could figure out the correct way to sequence words on the page, I could trick the reader into experiencing a facsimile of the true thing. Thatâs right, ten year old me viewed writing as a hack to imitate the visual arts.
To this day, I still view pictures as close to magic. Writing is nothing more than a refined form of talking, and almost everyone can speak without formal instruction. Drawing requires either talent combined with lots of practice and hard work, or little inherent talent and even more practice and hard workâall of it developing a skill more specialized and outside the norm than writing. Others inherently understand this; tell someone you can fill a page with text and youâll get a nod of slight approval, tell someone you can cover a page with a drawing, and people express delight, then lament their own lack of ability to do the same.
Over the years, I continued to write, usually for no one other than myself. I think my writing has improved quite a bit since I was a child. On a technical level, my words dance across the page with excellence.
However, the world has taught me to crave recognition for my efforts. We live in a cult of creativityâit defines personhood, assigns value, and gives meaning. Interesting people are creative. Fun people are creative. Unique people are creative. All of us are to believe in our own special artistic talents, with valuable insights to share, and stories which only we can tell. I see the lies, I know they are untrue, and yet, after hearing a sentiment enough times, it is likely to at least partially absorb it.
I crave recognition. Each time I hesitantly share a fanfiction online, despite all sensible knowledge to the contrary, I hope for a deluge of reblogs, positive comments, maybe even the ultimate complimentâvisible art created in response to my words. Each time, such a response fails to materialize. One might suppose Iâve moved past disappointment in an expected outcome, but no, it still stings when a month after posting a short piece I spent hours crafting, the post has 9 notes, and one of the notes is me reblogging it.
If my subconscious sense of value is tied to my ability to successfully create, of course it hurts to discover my value is 8 likes in a month. And then I see how many interactions others get writing the same character, using the same tagsâif my story has fifty likes after a year, others will have double that after only a month. Comparison is the thief of joy, yet how can I not check my own level of success against others? What other metric can I use? How should I cope with the fact other people who appear to have less technical proficiency than me are far more capable of creating emotional resonance with the reader than I am? Perhaps I have something only I can say, possibly in a style unique to me, yet the world finds my work understandably beneath its notice.
And when I thought it couldnât get any rougher on my ego, I started to get into Hermitcraft. Itâs wonderful to see my favorite people on YouTube interacting with their fans. Itâs great to see them enjoying the fanart createdâsome of them openly sharing it to a broader audience online, Doc using fanart for his thumbnails, or even just learning some of them save fanart to a file on their computer. Regular people, like me, receive praise from creatives they admire, a talented few even get hired to do work like thumbnails or character skins. Itâs inspiring. It makes me want to create and share my own fan works, with hope it might someday be seen by the creator who inspired my labor of love. And then I remember how impossible that is for me as a writer compared to an artist.
Logistically, I understand the myriad reasons for this. It takes far longer to read a thousand word story than to look at a picture. There is often less ambiguity in a written work than an illustration. Minecraft YouTubers in a context like Hermitcraft or the Life series have no need for writers, as their work is visual and unscripted. The list goes on.
And yet it still mines into a vein of insecurity and unimportance, which says far more about my own doubts and unhealthy desire for recognition than society.
As I carefully order words, attempting to recreate the thoughts in my brain into a format others can access, I understand the futility and vanity of whispering into the void. While I know I should seek the approval and praise of a higher power than the public or minor celebrities, there is no mechanism to do so while living in this mortal plane. Yet here I am, dissatisfied.
Word count: 2,541
Summary: You were trying to bring the appropriate level of banhammer smackdown and showmanship to your job as the new Battle City Commissioner. But of course, just as you felt your confidence flourish, Kaiba wrecked it. Also, a smidge of Roland backstory. Dub canon plus a version of DSOD. Intended female Reader, but gender not actually mentioned. Set maybe two years post DSOD.
Fun fact: I write my Reader characters with personality and specific description. They may not be as generic as is customary for this type of story. Each reader character also has a specific place in the Yu-Gi-Oh world, with set connections and feelings about the various canon characters and other reader characters. This is reader B, who is immune to the siren song of romance, cheap, eccentric, logical, and hands-on.
âBoss, we just had a flag thrown in sector three.â One of the many women with bright hair and a neon visor spoke up as you entered the control center. Alpha Team was Kaiba Corpâs top technical lineup, if they claimed a problem, it was real.
You sighed as the door slid shut behind you with a hiss. Having been on your feet since six in the morning, you had hoped for a moment to collapse in a chair and nap with your head on the desk. But Kaiba was paying you an obscene amount of money to head the dueling security commission, and by golly, you would get him his moneyâs worth. âWhatâs going on?â
Striding to your own console at the top of the graduated floor, you pulled up all available information on the two duelists involved in the flagged match. One was a new duelist, with few recorded games, but all were wins; the man had gained entry to this yearâs Battle City event by crushing the competition at a local tournament. The other was a twelve year old boy with hundreds of games to his nameâa decent duelist, but not extraordinary; he had no chance of making the top eight in this yearâs Battle City tournament. You started to compare their deck lists as Alpha Team brought up a video feed of the duel.
âThe manâs duel disk is running the duel off-server.â One of the nearest techs explained.
Your head shot up. âWhy is the city wi-fi down in sector three?â
âIt isnât. Heâs running an override.â As the tech spoke, the man on the screen began his turn, drawing a card.  Â
âSo heâs cheating.â You reached across your body to aggressively massage the back of your left shoulder.Â
âAffirmative. It appears he is running the duel off of his own duel disk in order to use a cheat showing him his opponentâs set cards. Looking over his duel logs, I believe heâs used this trick before, but this is the first time we caught what was happening.â
Studying the various data streams, you admired the skill behind the deception; tampering with Kaiba Corp code required nearly god-tier programming skills. But with rival Schroeder Corp running an aggressive advertising scheme constantly attempting to twist past events to make Kaiba Corp appear untrustworthy and corrupt, this could hardly happen at a worse time. Surely Kaiba had granted you this position due to your reputation for fairness and good judgment, and you intended to live up to his expectations. Very well, you would have the duel suspended remotely, conjure a hologram presence at the scene to explain why, andâ âWhatâs that?â You pointed to a contraption crossing into the edge of the displayed feed.
âOne moment.â A lavender haired technician adjusted the camera, panning to the right to reveal a national news crew, who were setting up some kind of camera dolly system. Â
Why on earth had they decided to film this duel, when there were a handful of other, completely legitimate, duels ongoing around the city? Spectacle was the name of the game for Kaiba Corp, and there was no pizzazz in bringing the duel to a fizzling halt. Removing your glasses, you wiped the sweat from the space between your eyes. You didnât want to let Kaiba down; he had entrusted his tournamentâs honor to you alongside his companyâs image.Â
Maybe you could use a more impressive hologram avatar? Usually you conjured Kozmo Farmgirl to represent yourself as the duel commissioner for the tournament, but what if⌠âWho owns that wall behind the duelists?â
âOne moment.â This time an orange haired technician spoke up. As you slid your glasses back on, the woman provided the requested answer. âCafe la Green. Itâs a local business. The wall hides the back of their store from the street.â
You glanced back down at your own monitor, checking your available project funds; you were under budget. But did you have the guts to go through with the idea conjured by your brain just now? Gently, your fingers traced the edges of the KC pin on the lapel of your dark red frock coatâboth gifts from Kaiba and Mokuba last Christmas. Placing you in this role showed their trust in your ability to play the game. You would bring your own sense of flashy showmanship to the problem.
âSee if you can buy the brick wall.â
âOn it.â
âAnd load up a second hologram avatar for me, in Solid Vision.â
âWhat monster?â
âAhhhhhhh...â What would have a strong visual impact? âGiga-Tech Wolf.â
âPrepping the projection now.â
You pulled yourself up to your full five foot three inches and planted your fists on your hips. âDoes anyone on the news crew have a duel disk?â
âNo, but a nearby onlooker does, and sheâs chatting with the cameraman.â
âGreat. Remotely activate her debris deflection field to protect the news crew.â
âDeflection field up in five seconds.â Replied a green haired tech.
The orange technician announced, âThe wall is now property of Kaiba Corp.â
Near the projection screen, the higher pitched voice of the lavender tech added, âGiga-Tech Wolf is ready to rumble.â
Gripping the metal railing separating your platform from the rest of the downward sloping room, you broke into a grin. âOn my mark, suspend the duel and have the wolf smash through the wall. Make it a spectacular entranceâdestructive and noisy. We want to give the news crew a show, and highlight how solid our holograms can be.â
âUnderstood. The Creative Department will need a minute to work out the animation.â
âThatâs fine.âÂ
It was one of the longest minutes of your life. Each second offered an opportunity to back out of this outrageous plan, but you tightened your grip on the railing and held your resolve. Behind you, the door to the hallway hissed open, but you were too lost in thought to pay it much mind.
âWeâre ready when you are.â One of the technicians broke the tension as a simulation of the wolf crashing through the wall played in the corner of the screen displaying the duel in progress.
Holding out your right hand with fingers extended, you prepared for a countdown. âExcellent. Suspend the duel and unleash the Solid Vision wolf in three, twoââ
âBelay that order.â Kaibaâs low voice interrupted your countdown with demanding force.
You jumped. Whirling to stare up at the man behind you and seeking understanding of his objection, you tried to work out what mistake you had made in your plan. It felt in line with how Kaiba would handle the situation. âArenât you supposed to be out there dueling?â You asked, confused.
âI already won what I need to make the semi-finals.â He spoke with his usual intensity. âI was going to invite you and Yugi to join me at the sponsorship dinner this evening.â
âSure, you know I wonât leave you to face the public alone if you ask me to join you. But please, until then, let me do the job you hired me to do.â It was unlike Kaiba to micromanage. Usually, he let a person work, and then honestly praised or derided the result when it was time to judge its quality.
âLet the duel play out.â He joined you at the railing.
âKaiba, the man is cheating. Iâm not going to let him get away with that. I can tone down the response if I took it too far butââ
âYour response was acceptable. Under normal circumstances I would enjoy watching you terrorize a man breaking the rules of my tournament.â
You started to smile at the complement, but tilted your head in confusion. âThen whatâs the problem?â
Kaiba crossed his arms. âLook at the data. Heâs a nobody with a state school degree and average salary as a programmer. No history of dueling until recently, and there were suspicions about his play in the local tournament he won to gain entry to Battle City. Iâve had surveillance on him since the start of the tournament.â
âAnd you never thought to tell me any of this? Iâm supposed to be the one keeping everything honorable in this tournament of yours. We could have kicked him out from the start!â
âThereâs no way that idiot managed to write the exploit heâs using. I donât want to warn him weâve found his trick until I discover who he's working for.â
âKaiba, the kid heâs dueling is going to lose unless we stop the duel.â
Shrugging, Kaiba watched the duel playing out on the screen. âHe never stood a chance of making the semi-finals.â
âYes, I know that, but when he loses, let it be a just loss!â
Barely turning his head to look at you, Kaiba asked, âDo you know the kid?â
âNo.â
âThen why do you care? You admitted he has no particular talent.â
âBecause Iâm a duelist too, and I know how I would want to be treated.â Which was true, but not the whole reason. It stung your honor to think of being hired to handle cheaters, but allow one to escape instead. âCatching a cheater in front of a news crew can only be good for Kaiba Corpâs image right now.â
âI care less about the publicâs perception of my company than I do finding the heart of the problem.â
âAs your duel commissioner, I cannot condone this course of action.â
Kaiba finally turned to face you. âAnd as your employer, your concerns are noted. Weâll let the match play out.â
An angry scoff escaped your lips. âAnd as your friend, I think this is a mistake!â Taking a deep breath, you gathered your composure. âYou hired me for my honesty. Let me use it.â
âI hired you because I thought you would have my back.â
Why did those words hurt so badly? âAnd I do! But not like this.â
Kaiba shook his head, his blue eyes cold, but his tone confused. âI donât understand. Arenât you supposed to be part of my plans? Help me overcome the string of fools who insist on meddling with my life and company?â
âSure, if you bother to tell me about it. Maybe ask if Iâm okay with your plans! Donât you know Iâm an honest person? Donât you know itâs against my nature to let this play out? I thought thatâs why you asked me to do this job!âÂ
âI hired you because I thought you had a modicum of intelligence.â Kaiba countered, stepping closer. âBut youâre nothing more than a shortsighted fool.â He towered over you, his pitch dropping to low gravel. âMy mistake.â
Incapable of mustering a comeback when faced with an uncomfortable truth, you scowled as your brain scrambled to figure out how to respond. Kaiba spent more hours in a day thinking about the future than you did in a week. âYeah, well, then⌠allow me to help you fix your stupid mistake.â Releasing the railing, you fumbled with the KC pin on your jacket lapel before giving up and slipping out of the frock coat entirely. âI quit.â
âI canât stop you.â
âI know.â Mokuba always ensured you had a penalty free termination clause in any contract detailing your work at Kaiba Corp. Relinquishing your red coat by draping it over the railing at the top of the room, you turned and left, relishing the hiss of the silvery door closing behind you.Â
Around you, the metal walls of the hallway offered no commentary, only hazy reflections of yourself as you adjusted your glasses. What were you supposed to do now? Shouldnât you feel satisfied? Why was your heartâŚsad? You crossed your arms.
âIs everything alright?â
You jumped. âRoland!â Embarrassment at being caught unawares caused blood to rush to your face. âEverythingâsâŚâ How could you say you were âfineâ when you had just walked away from a friendship fought for each week over the last year.
âYou look like mister Kaiba after he loses a duel.â Roland observed, as you frantically uncrossed your arms.
And Roland would know. While you werenât sure if he was categorized as Kaibaâs assistant, bodyguard, or something else entirely, it was clear the man had stood at his young employerâs side through years of crises and triumphs. He understood. This man must grasp what your parents and siblings could notâthe desire to befriend Seto Kaiba.
Normally, people made relationships so complex, their feelings and desires beyond your simple ken. But Kaiba, for all the journalists who called him complicated, made sense. Observing him showed he loved his younger brother Mokuba, his company, and the Duel Monsters game. Ignoring his words and instead watching his actions showed him to be a man of intelligence, a man of honor, and a man seeking acceptance from a world which seemed determined to crush him underfootâno, that wasnât right, Kaiba didnât seek belonging, he fought to change the world into a place he felt safe. His words showed he cared for the opinions of few; and most of them were dead.
âDo you regret working for Kaiba?â You asked Roland, breaking the silence.
âNo.â Roland adjusted his suit jacket. âDo you regret your friendship with him?â
âI think I just ended it.â Your eyes burned. If only you had sunglasses to hide your eyes like the man before you.
When you thought the stillness of the hallway would swallow both of you, Roland sighed.
âI worked for Gozaburo Kaiba before he legally adopted the two boys and granted them his name, back when Kaiba Corp still made military vehicles and systems. My personal life was in shambles, and my conscience wasnât much better, as I watched my employer twist a child into a baron of industry.â
You shoved your hands into your pockets, listening intently.
âWhen Seto bested his stepfather and claimed the company for himself, I was the first to pledge my loyalty to the new Kaiba Corp president, even if he was only fourteen at the time.â Straightening his shoulders, the man continued. âThis job has prevented me from ever finding a wife, fathering children, or taking a vacation.â He laughed. âBut I donât regret quietly shepherding two brilliant boys into capable young men. One day, my allegiance may earn me a bullet to the heart, but itâs worth it.â
Starting to reach out to you, he pulled back his hand awkwardly. âI think you see it tooâthe appeal of cold blue eyes and the contained force of a star burning itself to extinction as it tries to protect, fight, and create.â
Without doubt, Roland was overqualified for his occasional work as a tournament announcer.
âI long hoped Mr. Kaiba would find himself a friend. Now he has you and Yugi, although my genius employer has no idea how to process loyalty or kindness. Give him a second chance, and he might surprise you.â
What on earth was the correct response to such a declaration? Before you could formulate an answer, Roland had turned and entered the control center behind you. How were you supposed to befriend a man like Seto Kaibaâand yet, how could you ever make your mind settle for anything less than striving to stand beside him as an equal, a creative, and a friend?
______
If you enjoyed this story, consider checking out my reader-insert masterlist here! There are several other fics featuring Kaiba.
This piece was originally written to be displayed as part of the Affirmation/Transformation museum exhibit. You can see it's digital place in the exhibit here, where it is the only story submitted to the Rivalry/Oppositions category. Also, you can check out @gwenpools-aesthetic, who is the mastermind behind the project.
The Attorney - (based off El Pajaro by Paula Otegui)
So theres a fanart museum project where you draw fanart inspired by pieces of art (this one being El Pajaro). I thought it would be fun, so here's my submission!
If you wanna submit one too heres a link to the page that gives all the details!
I tried to put alot of GAA case references in while also keeping the layout and style of El Pajaro!
My friends and I have done one to many power point parties recently. (An excellent time highly recommend)
But it got me thinking about the DM crew and what they would do for a power point party. Because all it is is info dumping about whatever you want.
TĂŠa: different styles of dance and why you should learn.
Complete with demonstrations.
She makes them all try at least one dance move.
Tristan: which duel monsters I could beat in a fist fight.
He goes hard.
Itâs a complete guide of the monsters attack and defense points, as well as any flavor text.
He then says if he would fight them or not âI wouldnât fight Dark Magician because heâs Yugiâs ace and he wouldnât fight me, Battle Ox on the other hand is Kaibaâs monster and Iâm punching it in the face.â
He tends to states if he could win or not. Some of them are wild over estimations of his own strength but itâs all in good fun.
Yugi: the game I think represents each of you best.
Heâs gone through and matched their personalities with different board games.
Some are based on the way they think. Kaiba is strategic so he would get get chess (he would also be low key upset if he didnât get chess or Duel monsters) although you could also give him a resource management game like Catan, Iâd be scared to play Catan with Kaiba
Others are based on vibe alone.
TĂŠa gets a corporative game where the players have to work together to win (something like Magic Maze; a great game!)
Joey would probably also get a team game or a corporative game. He is competitive but he also loves his friends and is very loyal.
This maybe a creative ploy to try and get the others to play more board games with him (as some one who loves board games I approve)
Joey: ranking all the people Iâve dueled by how much they annoy me.
Heâs poking fun at everyone. Itâs light hearted for the most part, and is not based on any skill.
Itâs mostly so he poke fun at Rex, Wevil, and Kaiba who is not impressed.
Joey ranks them from most annoying to least annoying.
Mai takes third. Sheâs his friend but she can drive him mad in a duel.
âSecond is the Pharaoh, youâre always respectful and dramatic but there is one person better than youâ Yugi is siting their confused because whoâs better thank the Pharaoh but Yami/Atem already knows the answer
The winner is a Yugi his best friend and least annoying person. âYugâs the best person to duel and my favorite buddy.â
Yami/Atem: Which duel monsters card represent you all best
He knows exactly which monster is their spirit card
He might give 3 option and let them pick their favorite.
He knows what their soul card is but itâs fun for him to give them the option to pick and watch them pick their soul card every time.
Other ideas for Atem
Why I love all of you
Very sweet, thank you Atem.
Yugi would do this to.
modern day things that still confuse me.
Itâs actually really fun as he puts things on the screen to tell his friends what he first thought each item was/did
Alternatively if this is after he has his memories âthings that would send my Egyptian friends into a coma.â
But itâs Grandpa whoâs gets everyone.
He video calls Prof Hawkins in. The Professor was more than happy to do a short power point about his research.
He finishes and asks Solomon what his presentation is. Heâs expecting his old friend to do something about games
Solomon smirks as he opens his slides
Why my grandchildren are better than yours
Grandchildren? Let him explain
The next slide is a picture of Yugi âmy grandson, the King of Gamesâ
The next slide a picture of Yami/Atem âmy other grandson, he was once the Pharaoh of Egypt.â
Atem is greatly touched by the sentiment, but itâs the next slide that gets everyone.
The next slide is a picture of Joey, TĂŠa and Tristian âmy adopted grandchildren, Joey is a world class duelist I should know I taught him myself! TĂŠa is going to be a world renowned dancer! And Tristian is an incredible mechanic and sharp shooter (according to the manga) Iâm so proud of them.â
The whole group is shocked. Solomon goes along with his presentation, itâs just him boasting about all of their accomplishments to Arthur.
Joey is in tears by the end. âYou think of me as your grandson?â
Yugi just smiles at him âof course he does, youâre family.â
PLATONIC REQUEST (If you include any romance I will be sad.)
Reader who is adventurous and curious, loving science and fantasy in equal measureâso long as no one tries to misapply them and claim falsehoods are factually true or that stories always need to be scientifically perfect. Intentionally tries to pick up lots of skills. Innocent and childish. Intelligent, but uses internal fact checking to discern lies, which obviously has limitations when trying to determine if someone is lying about *themself.*
Reader is friends with Scar and/or Etho. (So, personally, those two are my favorites right now, and I wish I could be friends with both of them. Approximately everyone who knows me in Real Life is unsurprised by this, because both of them are a type of person I like, and both of them have traits I like and want to cultivate in myself. đ¤ˇââď¸ Or at least, everyone would be unsurprised if I were the type of person to talk about having squishes [that's the word for wanting to be friends with someone, like a platonic crush] but I tend to keep my emotions about myself to myself, so only a few actually know.)
Anyway, I think that the differences between Etho and Scar can be really interesting. Of course, you can choose to only include one of them in the resulting Reader Insert story, if asking for two Hermits is too much, or you don't feel familiar enough with one of them to write for them, etc.
Other than the Reader being friends with one or both of the requested characters, you can have a lot of free will in the type and genre of the piece. Want to write silly fun times? I'm down! Want to write an adventure piece? Those are some of my favorites! Want to write about Reader helping the selected character(s) (or vice versa?) Sounds good to me! In the mood to write angst or hurt/comfort? I'll accept that too!
Anyway, if this was all too long, or too vague, or too dull, or you have any questionsâyou can message me and ask questions or request that I send in a better request myself! đ
Thank you for your time, consideration, and potential writing!
Fetching Wood!
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Character: Ethoslab x Reader, GTWS x Reader.
Type: Blurb (~2k)
Theme: Platonic
Summary: Unsurprisingly, attempting an adventure on the HermitCraft server attracts shenanigans.
TW: brief swearing.
A/N: I hope I did your ask justice!! These two are so silly together and so adventure awaits. :)
The chirping of birds drifts through the ajar window, letting in the sounds of morning calamity and the gentle breeze that brings with it the scent of deep woods and dirt. Your cluttered desk stands proudly in front of you, stacks of intricate designs meticulously sketched, bottles of experimental potions, gadgets, gears, suspicious white powder, and ink spattered across the solid dark oak. It was your workshop- or at least part of it. At the moment you are preoccupied from tinkering, rather you squint at the mess of your storage trying to decide what exactly this trip warrants.
You see, your build, a large wizard-esc tower and subsequent dungeons was a rather demanding feat, and with your newfound appreciation for the Nether woods and brick, you needed a trip to Nether.
It was much to your surprise that when casually discussing the idea with those surrounding you, your neighbor Etho was quick to jump aboard. Apparently he too needed a restock on warped logs and mushrooms, and was more than happy to tag along to make the process more enjoyable.
It was always exciting seeing the ivory haired man, so many Hermits (including yourself) looked up to him.
With the whole HermitcraftTCG and Decked Out craze of last season he was a hard man to come across besides fleeting moments in games. You would be lying if you said you weren't eager to impress. Tucking another fire resistant potion (you can never be too sure) you sigh and check the time.
No...it couldnât be that hour already...
Snatching up your backpack and skittering towards the door of your starter-starter base (something you will be tearing down) you made it out into the grass. You were so smart when it came to inventions you'd think you would be a little more aware of the time- but unfortunately not. Being late was an reality you lived with often. Snatching the reins of your beloved horse Millennium, you place a foot in the stirrup and very nearly faceplant off of the other side of his torso. He lets out a vibrating huff and you pout.
âCmon, I can't have a horse making fun of me.â You scoff, rightening in the saddle. The horse doesn't comment back, shaking out its mane and beginning to trot. You ease Millennium into a canter, riding with practiced ease through the forest towards your neighbor.
It's a bright and sunny day, the wind whipping across your face and tugging at your clothing where it is free from the confines of your armor. You had asked Cleo and Stress to help in making a perfect outfit to combine the high fantasy of the wizard tower with the stylish ease of a scientist. You say they have done wonderfully. Despite not actually having a tower to call home yet, you were eager to leap into the aesthetic.
Spotting the gorgeous blue ceiling you broke into a grin, pressing a bit harder to have your horse break into a dash. Leaping over a small creave you break into the clearing, spotting the man of hour leaning against the side of the portal- a full one with corners and all of course. He straightens at your sudden appearance, watching you with careful eyes- You stand up in the stirrups, throwing a leg over and slowing the horse to let you jump off. Millennium whinnies and turns, slowing to blink at you. You hit the ground with a small âoof!â knees bending to not topple over.
âTadaaa!â You wiggle in the ever-corny jazz hands, watching his expression crinkle into a smile. His light chuckle makes you beam in pride.
âWoooow what an entrance.â Etho claps slowly, muffled by his fingerless gloves. It was almost sarcastic but it amused him nonetheless. âAlmost makes up for the fact you're late- huh?â He prods, clearly in a teasing manner. You pout.
âOnly by-â You check your watch. âHalf an hour!â It's defensive, but you stick your tongue out to show no harm.
âMhm, still late.â He turns sharply on his heels, now facing the portal. âWe better start moving so we still have daylight!â
âItâs 9:30, plus weâre going to Hell- No sunlight there.â You quickly tie up Millennium, taking a tic to admire the build. Pacing quickly to catch up beside him, you note vaguely that he didn't move, instead throwing a coy smile (Hermits got used to only reading his eyes) down at you before stepping into the swirling purple depths. It was always nauseating, the world thrown off kilter and shapes fluttering behind your eyes. Then the pure heat- it prickles your palms immediately with sweat and makes you wipe them on your pants as you step out onto the odd red stone, slightly squishy under foot. It was an eyesore as always, the usual red cavern punctuated by glowing portals and scattered cobblestone paths.
âSooooo.â You drawl, turning to face him- he looks odd in the environment. Pale skin and stark haired reflecting the orangish hues of ever-burning fire. Greens of his outfit reminding you much of the holiday season. âLead the way captain.â You prompt- the notification of âGoing deeperâ noting your lack of experience in this particular world. He chuckles, but sets off, picking around fires and large craters. You follow to a tee, analyzing the scenery in an attempt to memorize it for later. You've almost committed this well populated spawn area when a panicked scream breaks through the crackling silence. Jumping out of your skin you launch towards Etho- sword drawn. But that screamâŚIt wasn't a ghast-
âNO NO IM SORRY I KNOW I FORGOT GOLD JUST SPARE A SCAR ONE SECOND!-â Hightailing from around a corner the offender nearly knocks into you, letting out a yelp. Scarâs eyes are wide, his expression that of pure terror, cheeks dusted in the same red dust as the scenery. A tic goes by as you open your mouth to speak, at the same moment he realizes you're friendly, dashing to cower behind you. The sound of a crossbolt loading pulls your attention from the man. The piglin snorts, eyes narrowed in bloodlust, weapon drawn as it searches for presumably Scar. Tattered tunic and scraped golden boots. You and Etho had planned accordingly- a gold dawning his boots as you opted for golden bracers- but a quick glance at Scar confirms he had in fact forgotten. Flicking your sword you swipe at the beast. Blade forcing it backwards. It squeals in surprise, having not seen you as a target. The crossbow rounds to your chest, you brace for pain. Then another blade cuts through the air. The piglin lets out one last squeal as it dissolves quickly into mist. Crossbow and leather toppling to the floor. You let out a breath and look to your savior with a pout.
âI totally had it handled!â You insist, poking him in the chest with a finger. It slides uselessly off of his iron chestplate. Etho blinks at you, then shakes his head.
âUh no, you were totally doomed and in need of a strong PvPer to defend you.â his quirked head shows his comfortable ease, and it warms you that he liked bantering. Too bad you were about to murder him.
âOh? Do you know one I can bring next time?â You ask, batting your eyelashes innocently. He gawks.
âOohhh!-â
âThis is fun and all but do you have any food and gold I can borrow?â You had forgotten about him. Turning to Scar you flash him a grin, digging in your pockets for food.
âDidn't expect to save a charming Scar this fine morning.â You chuckle, offering some of the steak you gathered to his shaking hands.
âWell I didn't expect to be in peril- I knew I had forgotten something!â He eagerly crams the food into his mouth, chewing as he talks around the bite. âGood thing Etho came to save me.â It's a tease- but you still squawk.
âhEY-!â The unholy noise grates your throat, and causes him to nearly choke on the mouthful, swallowing hard to avoid choking. His muffled giggles tug a smile to your lips. âYou're an ass.â You spit, turning sharply away from him. âAnd to think I was going to share my bracers. Guess not!â
âWa-Wait!â Scar stumbles to bump against your back, straightening himself to not invade your space too much. âYou wouldn't leave a helpless scar all on his own?â His voice tilts into a whine, widening his eyes to plead. You scoff, gesturing vaguely to Etho.
âYou have an Etho, isn't he enough for you?â You snark back, Scar is silent. He sulks to the Canadian, throwing an arm across his shoulder to begin his sales pitch.
âEthhooo my buddy, you wouldn't happen to have some gold I could borrow?â Scar tries, offering a meek smile to the taller man. Etho hums, tilting his head to peer across the blazing landscape.
âNope.â He pops the p, eyes squinting into what must've been a shit-eating grin. Scar groans, letting his knees buckle in exaggerated disappointment. Etho shifts to slow his descent, the uniformed man sliding helplessly to the red floor.
âNeed me yet?â You call, shifting to spin and stare at the off pair. Scar groans again, but lifts his arms to grabby-hands. Splitting into a grin you trot towards him, sliding off one golden clasp. His fingers barely brush the surface before you snatch it away. âNuh uh!- you gotta say Iâm better than Etho.â
âHey!â Now it was Etho's turn to protest, placing a hand on his hip. âYou can't make Scar lie.â
âThen I guess he won't get any gold.â You shrug, Scar sputters. Using Etho as a pole to claw his way back up.
âUh- I didn't say that, I think you're incredibly talented and definitely better than any old Etho.â He smiles, flashing his teeth. You hum now, swinging the gold bracer around. Scar winces every time it nearly slips from your grasp.
âYea alright.â You toss the accessory and he lunges for it, fumbling for a few moments before managing a firm grasp.
âOh thank you kind and generous-â
âAlright, thatâs enough horsing around, we are already running behind schedule.â Etho interrupts, trotting back on path. You groan in childlike disobedience, but follow along. Scar stumbles to catch up.
âWhat are you guys doing?â He asks, keeping pace but tucking close to the protection of your side.
âFetching wood.â You answer, giving him a nudge. âWhat were you up to?â
âOh! Same here!â Scar answers confidently. You give him a once over. He doesn't appear to have even successfully made it to the biome, judging by the lack of mycelium on his boots. Raising an eyebrow skeptically he chuckles. âWell I was going toâŚâ
âThere's always space for another.â Etho butts in, clasping him on the shoulder. âEven if the role is just the goof.â
You giggle, causing Scar to shoot you a glare.
âI am more than just that!- I can be the entertainment, have you seen the most recent news about Mando?-â
You grin, a small excited noise leaving your throat. Etho groans loudly, retreating a safe distance to let you geek out. He knows the consequences of getting too close, being dragged into full body renditions of scenes.
Despite the blistering heat and hostile atmosphere, a few friends never fail to lighten the mood. You always feel safer when tucked between their shoulders, endless chatter filling the air. And maybe some shenanigans and mishaps occur along the way- but that's the fun of HermitCraft.
Reader-Insert version can be read here.
Anyway, I hope you can enjoy this little 924 word fic!
_____
âYouâre up late.â
She looked up from her work maintaining the chapelâs pews. âEtho!â He looked tired, green and black clothes splattered with dark stains, cloak hanging off his body in ripped shreds, and reddish brown smeared all over his bare hand and forearm.Â
Adjusting the mask covering the lower half of his face, he smiled with his eyes. âSister.â Like all her friends, he called her by her title rather than her nameâjust as she preferred. As far as she was concerned, Sister was her name, not the pretentious mouthful assigned to her by the Church when she came here years ago. Hiding her identity was a drag, although preferable to being claimed by the powerful vampire queen who had marked her as a child.
âI take from the bloodstains all over your clothes, your hunt was successful?â Tossing her screwdriver onto the wooden pew beside where she was crouched, she leaned back to get a better look at her friend; it seemed none of the blood was his this time. Good.
He laughed, almost sounding embarrassed. âIt doesnât feel successful.â
âRough kill?â She threw her long hair back over her shoulder, keeping it out of the way as she returned to work.
Running a blood smeared hand through his white hair, Ethoâs mood darkened. âEven when I know my target has lived for over sixty years, and killed seventeen innocents, itâs not easy to drive a stake through the heart of a creature who looks like a ten year old girlâŚâ
âThe abbess always says youâre too kind for this work.â Picking up the screwdriver, she gave it a little flip in the air, catching it neatly. Gently running her left hand over the pile of screws, she grouped them as she counted in her head.Â
Etho walked towards her. âUh huhh. Itâs hard to tell when she sends me out every week to kill monsters.â Sighing, he squeezed past her kneeling body to tiredly sink down onto the pew. âI shouldnât have specialized in vampires.â
âEtho, donât sitâ!â
Splintering wood and the crash of ancient planks smacking beautiful tilework flooring interrupted her warning, as the pew gave way beneath him. âOhhhhh.â He sounded pathetic as he lay on his back on the floor, gazing up at the decorative ceiling and gripping the pocket watch hanging from his belt. While she knew Etho must be a fierce and capable warrior, Sister found such an image hard to combine with the slightly hapless and very nice guy she had befriended over the years.
She groaned. âI had removed most of the screws attaching the seat to the end of the pew, so I could replace them with slightly wider screws, âcause the whole thingâs been getting loose, and had already been jury rigged before I ever came hereâŚâ
âSorey.â His accent always came through when he apologized. âIâll explain to the abbess it was my fault.â Â
âThanks.â Leaning back against the chapel wall, Sister mulled over how long it would take her to fix the pew, assuming she had the skill to properly fix something so old, delicate, and ornateâwhich she doubted.
âAnd speaking of the abbess, I got permission to take you with me on my next assignment.â
âReally?â At his words, all exasperation fled her body. Usually she was forbidden from leaving the abbey, on account of the mark on the back of her left hand. âWhy?â
âYouâre good at clerical work, right, Sister?â
She nodded eagerly as he continued.
âMy target tonight had quite a library, and chests of saved correspondence. I needed someone to help me catalog all of it tomorrow, and since they made the mistake of letting me choose my own assistantâŚI chose you.â Propping himself up on his elbows, his eyes crinkled in a smile. âYou do want to see more of the world, right? I donât know why the abbess always keeps you cooped up in the church compound, but I figure I ought to show my friend a bit of the outside world if I can.â
Without thinking, Sister gripped the back of her left hand, imagining the green symbol on the other side of her half finger glove. âIâd love that.âÂ
Rising from the rather destroyed pew, which now littered the floor, Etho stretched. âI need to wash up. Wouldnât want to talk to the abbess looking like this.â He pointed at her. âNow go get some sleep, we have a long day tomorrow.â
âYouâre going to talk to the abbess now?â
âSome of us arenât night owls by choice, Sister.â Etho laughed. âIf I have to work this late, she can wake up to talk to me in the middle of the night from time to time.â
Grateful for his friendship, and this opportunity to leave the abbey, Sister wanted to hug the lanky man before her, but decorum held her back. The last thing she had ever wanted was rumors of being romantically involved with anyone, and years of practicing such thinking left little room for nebulous gestures like hugsâno matter how platonically she intended them. âHm, youâve always had fun being a bit of a pain.â
âJust doing my job.â His smile shone through in his voice as she packed up her toolbox.
âSee you tomorrow, Etho.â
With a jaunty little wave, he strode off, leaving her to wonder what the next day held.
redstone has a tendency to build up in the body over time. this most noticeably manifests in progressive changes to the color of the eyes, eventually turning the sclera and iris entirely red
mumbo was, of course, unaware of this, and feels so silly for forgetting to develop symptoms that he has since refused multiple lucrative offers to participate in research studies
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