#entire purpose is over and having to relearn how to look at the world.

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

I do think it could be potentially telling in more than one way that Holly, who is consistently shown to be the calmest, most centered of the team, is described as frantic when Kipps is stabbed.

#she doesn't want to lose anyone else.... #deeply emotional to think that I'm closer in age to the older two than to the main kiddos #like... on some level I do relate a lot to Lucy. but also thinking about kipps and holly as characters from the perspective #of someone who's in that slightly older age group?? it makes me Feel Things ok #like. sweet calm organized Holly being TERRIFIED to lose people again because she's been a sole survivor as well #but she carries that so differently from Lucy. for Lucy that's what drives her to continue #at least at first. for Holly it's at least part of what Makes her so chill and organized. bc that's how she coped #in the aftermath. Lucy coped with the trauma by continuing to fight and holly did it by dropping out of the fight #and finding a different way to help people. #and then we have quill kipps king of the quarter life crisis feeling like his #entire purpose is over and having to relearn how to look at the world. #yeah. I'm emotional. #lol this started as ''I'm gonna look for any tiny scraps in order to ship kipps and holly'' and ended up as character analysis #I feel like that says something about me tbh #Lu rambles #L&c

[fastcardotmp3]

twirling my hair around my finger, heyyyyyy. so how can i bribe you into sharing all the thought and comments you say you have about meta?

i don't really have any specific questions because ideally i'd want to open up your brain like a book and browse through absolutely everything, so i'm not sure where i should 'aim' so to speak?

is there smg in particular you'd like to share about? an area you want to expand on, because there's more than that's on the page that you'd like to explicitly discuss or just because it's your favorite to talk about?

i'm chin hands, and would be thrilled at every crumb you felt like sending our way queen

oh my GOD the can of worms here you don't know what you're doing I want to talk about METAMORPHOSES all the time always 😭

it's the fic I'm proudest for having said exactly what I wanted it to say without going on tangents the way my other longfic did and it's the fic I'm proudest for having completed both at all and the way I did narratively and I just!!

thanks for humoring me I know my rambling about this fic can get longwinded and annoying but it means the world to get to ramble at all tbh I am also twirling my hair kicking my feet etc super grateful for you, anon 💚💚💚

I've been sitting with this ask all day thinking about what little thing I could go on a self-indulgence about, but instead I just keep adding to the list of topics and giving you nothing so! if you would be so patient as to indulge me, a list in no particular order of things I worked hard on in the writing of that story:

(under the cut because, surprise surprise, I got longwinded again)

a motorcycle as a symbol of independence, meaning it's the thing that carries him to acts of joy but also acts of self-destruction, but also ultimately being something he gets to keep in the long run because relearning he does not have to earn independence and freedom by being good is kind of his whole deal during his healing process. he's human and he's allowed to fuck up and that doesn't mean he gets stripped of the right to potentially fuck up again in the future!

ourboros and cycles and the destruction/recreation-isms of recovery in the way Eddie has to rebuild all but from scratch post-Kas, and that when he relapses and falters the cycle starts over, only this time "from scratch" has a slightly stronger foundation

El. Just El in general and the reasons what she does in this fic is the most in-character thing I've ever written for her I LOVE HER SO MUCH AND I LOVED WRITING HER IN THIS FIC

the collective theme of our young adults as people who don't "turn out" the way they're expected to, who end up following paths that make sense entirely even if they don't look like they do on the surface, particularly for both Steve and Nancy who shirk careers that everyone on the outside perceives as being perfect for them in favor of ones that feel right, even accomplish the same things but in a way that's more natural to them (and also the way this aligns with Eddie's own journey of not being what he looks like on the surface)

MEDUSA. just. yeah. seeing being seen the danger in both the necessity of both the difference between a gift and punishment and so on and so forth

control over one's own physical appearance as grappling with control over literally anything else for both Eddie and El, and the ways they both go from that as a desperate sort of coping mechanism to a calmer and more joyful one

honestly just the formatting of the openings to each chapter and whose voices get bolded versus italicized (specifically later on in the fic) and why because it does change and it is on purpose fjadskl

Steve's pov of when Eddie runs away!!! I almost wrote a whole chapter of this but knew it would fuck up the pacing too much so I held myself back, but I think about his utter panic all the time when he realizes that Eddie is just gone and the last thing Steve did was say something bitchy and slam the door on his way out

Nancy and Eddie's dance lessons as a goofy bit of light-heartedness but also so much more than that

AND I'M GONNA STOP SORRY BUT YOU OPENED THE FLOOD GATES AND I CARE ABOUT THIS UNIVERSE TOO MUCH HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY AND THANK YOU DEARLY FOR ASKING I OWE YOU MY LIFE 💚🐍

#dot post #ask #kindnesses #dot fic #metamorphoses fic #this fic is my babey forgive me for being so loud about it on main #anon i'm kissing you on the mouth for letting me ramble about my little universe

[dodger-chan]

I was cleaning up my Google docs folder and found some old fics I started and honestly am never going to do anything more with. And where is the place for that sort of thing but Tumblr? So, I did a quick clean up edit and, here you go.

“You could be kinder to her, you know.” Jaskier’s words were quiet, but clearly meant for Geralt to hear. He lifted his eyes from his book to glare at the bard, but Jaskier stubbornly kept his head down over his own book. He had been interrupting Geralt’s reading all evening with the rhythmic tapping of his fingers on the table and quick scraps of a tune. It seemed he was no longer content with mere annoyances and was moving on to conversation.

“You’re referring to Yennifer? The woman you called an uncharmable snake this afternoon?” With all of the upheaval in the world, the continued hostility between Jaskier and his former lover had provided a comfortable bit of normalcy.

“That is me being kind.” True, Jaskier had called Yenn much worse on many occasions. “I’m not saying that you need to forgive what she did, much less trust her implicitly. But this cold indifference is painful, Geralt, painful. If I knew you less well, I’d think you didn’t love her anymore.”

“How can I love her after what she’s done?” It was the question that had been haunting Geralt’s mind since seeing Yenn with Ciri outside of Cintra. It was a question he had no good answer to. Except that he did.

“With even more guilt and self-loathing than usual, based on what I’m seeing.” Geralt coughed out a bitter laugh. “Love is not something we choose. It falls on us like a sudden rain, knocks us back like a gust of wind, chews up our hearts like a ghoul. We can only choose how we react to it. Perhaps you should forgive her, if only so you stop punishing yourself over it.”

“You’ve never liked Yenn.” Geralt kept his tone flat.

“Still don’t. Probably won’t ever.” Jaskier agreed.

“So why are you defending her?”

“How would you behave if I had betrayed you and Ciri?” Geralt’s mind took a moment to catch up to the change in subject.

“You didn’t.”

“I would have.” Geralt looked over at Jaskier, who was now carefully studying the pads of his fingers. “That, ah, firefucker, as Yenn called him, is a shit interrogator but he would have gotten what he was looking for soon enough.”

“You didn’t know…” But Jaskier was looking back at him with an expression of affectionate disbelief and Geralt fell silent. A cold feeling crept up on him. Jaskier had always been observant, always paying attention to the little details. He may not have known the location of Kaer Morhen was the way he knew where the best brothels in Oxenfurt were, but he could have gotten the mage here. He felt like he should apologize, but he wasn’t sure which of the many apologies he owed Jaskier it would be. Instead he said, “Everyone breaks under torture.”

“Obviously, or far fewer people would use it.” Jaskier scoffed. “Honestly, I wouldn’t have thought I could hold out as long as I did. Perhaps love does make a man able to endure. But if Yennifer hadn’t shown up to rescue me it would not have been enough.”

“You want me to forgive her because she saved you?”

“Yennifer lost her chaos. Maybe losing it hurt; she never said. But what she lost with it, her purpose, her family, her entire identity, that is something that eats away your soul. And that’s not even considering how long that pain demon was feeding on her, offering to return it all in exchange for one little girl. If that mage had burned all the flesh off of one finger, only my playing would have been affected. I would still have been able to compose and teach. Probably I could even have relearned to play a little. I would not have held out past one finger. If I had betrayed you, it would have been for fear of a fraction of her loss.

“I want you to be kind to Yennifer because it was only the barest of chance that kept me from betraying you, too.”

“She had other options.”

“Did she? I think if she had, she wouldn’t have been happy to see me in Oxenfurt. No, not happy,” Jaskier corrected himself, “relieved. She looked at me like I was a hot meal and she hadn’t eaten in days. Now, many people do see me that way, but considering our history, does that sound like a witch with other options?”

It didn’t.

But whatever Yenn had been through, however limited her options were, she had still made a choice. A choice that had nearly killed Ciri.

Forgiveness was impossible. Kindness, at the moment, was beyond his reach. Opportunity was the only thing Geralt had to offer.

“I will allow Ciri to train with her.” Opportunity and time. Perhaps they could give Yennifer what he could not.

#the witcher #the witcher netflix #witcher fic #my fic

[lu-twilights-pup]

hello!! what do you think would be the chain’s biggest insecurities? i’m sure they all have a lot but the biggest ones you know?

Howdy!! Here we go:

DISCLAIMERS:

anxiety, negative mental image, bullying, mental health

Four:

His Sides

I think he is insecure when they are put together but are out of sync with one another all fighting for different directions, thoughts, and over all control of certain aspects at once; he feels off balanced, dazed, and out of control and cant tell if other people can tell as well. He's afraid of coming of as a mad man.

Hyrule:

Knowledge

Hyrule is by no means stupid, far beyond it in fact, but he is rather insecure about his overall knowledge of the world around him, and the others worlds, he fails to rationalize the fact that he lives in an apocalyptic land and wouldn't know any better, he feels he may come off as stupid or ignorant if he talks on certain subjects pertaining to worlds outside of his own (fauna/flora/customs)

Legend:

Empathy/Bluntness

Don't get him wrong, he wouldn't take back any of his snarks, and is proud of his ability to be able to cut to the chase, however sometimes he feels like he is incapable of handling certain situations, or make situations worse because of his quick instinct to become hard and distant, and or to be painfully blunt with delicate topics. He feels like others view him as heartless at times or an overall ass on purpose.

Sky:

Lightening scars

While some think they are cool, and that helps sometimes, he views them of reminders of where he fell short in his journey to save Zelda, and over all as a hero seeing that there had to be more heroes after him. To him they are ugly, jagged and horrifying to the eye, and a guilty burden he is destined to carry for what he did/didn't do.

Time:

Mask Scars

While he isnt one to think too much about his looks, he is rather bothered by the red and blue marks laid on his face. He would never trade a clear face for the loss of those he saved, but they are a painful memory for him, of times he lost control, and whether people know where they came from or not, to him they make him look like some type of villain/malicious

Twilight:

Wolfish Quirks

Despite finding pride in his other half, and a serene connection to nature through it, when those qualities bleed over into his Hylian-self he is less enthusiastic about them. After once having someone refer to him as 'barbaric' he began to see those traits and attempted to push them down. Embarrassment was much more uncomfortable and painful than biting his tongue and fighting and instinct.

Warriors:

Appearances

Now this is not in a vanity way at all, the old captain here is insecure about letting his guard down, he spent his entire life in the army until it became a part of him, thus the idea of consistent facades being kept up became a way of life. Never should he ever let he guard down, that's dangerous. He's insecure about losing a grip on any of the facades he puts up, he doesn't remember who's under them.

Wild:

Voice/Mannerisms

After being asleep for 100 years, his voice was beyond shot. He became aware of the way people flinched when he talked, or the way he couldn't pick up certain words right, and thus became less and less talkative. The same issue came up with his mannerism, he had to relearn everything from 'thank you', to more cultural base practices. A heavy anxiety followed him as he learned, though better now, he still holds onto that anxiety.

Wind:

Heroics

He is weighed down immensely by the thought that he is somehow less a hero than the others because of the way in which he saved how world, the idea that he wasn't born with the triforce, that hyrule flooded. He was once proud of his story, despite the legends of the hero he had grown up hearing, but once he heard the others stories (no fault of theirs) he was put off more than he already was about the entire thing. thus a constant feeling that he must prove himself, not because of his age, but because of his adventure.

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu #four linked universe #hyrule linked universe #legend linked universe #sky linked universe #time linked universe #twilight linked universe #warriors linked universe #wild linked universe #wind linked universe #wolfie linked universe #linked universe headcanons #lu headcanons

[theminecraftbox]

Do you have any thoughts on how c!dream’s trauma might present in the far future, after he’s been safe for quite some time and it’s not so terribly fresh? -@/brinecraft

@brinecraft

/dsmp /rp

This depends on the manner of his safety—ie what he’s been doing in the meantime and how he’s been treating himself. A Dream who’s been focusing on his plan and playing into his own worst impulses is going to be far different than one who’s somehow, against all odds, found a measure of true peace.

So there’s the near future, and there’s the far future—for our purposes, I’m going to first think of a far future in which Dream’s ~won~, where there is no war to be fought, in which his enemies are all either reconciled or distanced, in which the server is again at complacent peace.

In this situation, Dream is victorious. Everything he’s done to himself and everything he’s done to other people has been worth the price of admission. (How could it be anything otherwise?) Which means, why ought his trauma manifest? It should be undone, all of it—all the pain and heartache and everything else. Everything Quackity and Sam did to him. Everything he did to Tommy and to anyone else: according to Dream’s calculus it should have no weight.

So Dream’s trauma looks a lot like pure denial, but it’s denial of the kind that the universe backs up. There is no struggle, so Dream shouldn’t be struggling. This brave new world has no pain, so Dream shouldn’t be in pain. His torture isn’t important here. He tells himself to forget. He’s reconciled with his old friends and even his old enemies, so Dream shouldn’t breathe a word about suffering, because that doesn’t belong here.

His trauma manifests as a deep and abiding paranoia. It’s an inability to rest, an inability to believe in the world he’s paid such a price to gain: he’s always ready for it to backslide, he’s always got one finger on the trigger to kill problems before they can manifest. He’s never going to make those same mistakes again. He’s never going to trust people again—not the way he trusted Sam. He is always going to make room in his heart to assume the worst. Because he should have assumed the worst of Sam and Quackity, and he didn’t, and he fucking paid for it.

He thinks he should be over his aversion to touch and to trust. That was half the point of this entire exercise, right? He wanted to feel safe again. He wanted that glimpse of peace again—he wanted to not just be protected, but to FEEL protected. Too fucking late. His issues with physical trust and touch have calcified. He craves touch but cannot stand it. He wants to be open-he wants that emotional safety, it’s what he fought and died and screamed for!

But he can’t trust it. Peace isn’t something he trusts or understands, even once he’s won it.

And then there’s the second scenario: in which his plan has failed, and he’s otherwise been driven away. He’s safe but not victorious. He’s had to swallow and accept his loss (even if somewhere in his heart he conceals his determination to someday win back those halcyon days).

He’s been focusing on overcoming the physical instincts of his trauma. He’s much better about physical pain, combat, and weapons. Even touch: with his allies (maybe Techno, maybe Punz, maybe George, maybe even Sapnap) he’s relearned some degree of visceral trust. Because it’s them against the world, isn’t it? There is still a battle to fight, and because there is a war to win, Dream can focus on his trauma as a series of learnt instincts and symptoms to overcome for pragmatic reasons, rather than as behaviors he should unlearn and deal with to make himself happier and healthier.

His utter ruthlessness will be worse: he is more averse to the type of thing that will get him sent back/make him vulnerable. It’s a strange combination of safety and paranoia. He trusts the people who stood by him and brought him out of hell, and he trusts in his own mind, and he trusts in his goals. But he can’t help but lash out at them, test them, constantly, give them reason to betray him over and over and over, prod them to hurt him, because he can’t quite accept that the opportunity won’t be taken.

But he won’t let it. He’s self-sufficient. He’ll prove it to his enemies and most of all to his allies. He is not a thing to be pitied; he is a survivor and not a victim. He is prickly and unlikable and he has PLANS.

#c!dream and trauma #my beloved. #I’m drunk so sorry if this is ramble

[emletish-fish]

Different but the Same: Robby, Miguel and Mirror characterisation

So Robby and Miguel -

It’s actually possible to LOVE them both.

Because they are actually thematically super similar.

There has been a lot of fandom discussion about who is The Worst between Robby and Miguel, which I feel misses the point entirely. We shouldn’t be pitting Robby and Miguel against each other because they are mirror characters on parallel journeys. 

Baseline: Both are raised by single mothers and feel the absence of a father/father figure. Both are intelligent, level-headed with occasional bursts of impulsiveness. Both are deeply compassionate and will defend ‘the little guy’ and stick up for kids who are being bullied. Both do not engage in bullying themselves. Both skateboard. Both are great with computers. Both get jealous over their girlfriend/Dad figure. Both are the first students of their first karate dojos.  Both find power in Cobra Kai and peace in Miyagi-Do.   Both advocate for Johnny and Daniel to get along.

The list goes on.

Even some of their mistakes are similar.

Boy A is ‘dating’ Sam. He sees Sam with Boy B and mistakes an innocent scenario for Sam cheating on him. Boy A gets mad and tries to start shit with B boy - Sam intervenes. 

Which one am I referring to? Both! they have both done this!

Sam and Tory are going at it. It is am emotionally fraught situation. Boy A is first on the scene. Boy A seperates the girls, and tries to de-escalate the situation. Boy B is dating Tory and assumes she is being attacked by Boy A. Boy B attacks Boy A and escalates the conflict.

Who am I talking about  - Both! They have both done this!

Their “rivalry” is so dumb because they actually have no problem with each other personally. Their season 1 drama is a huge misunderstanding. In season 2... they do not start shit with each other in season 2. They are awkwardly polite and non-confrontational at the roller rink and at the party. Miguel introduces Robby to Tory. He does this without any animosity at all. Like Robby is a casual aquintance he is on good terms with.  At the Prom, before the girls start fighting, they just blink quietly at each other.

Honestly, if it wasn’t for AVTs or the girls, these two would never confront each other.

Because they are mirrors.

“Mirror characters are used for a similar purpose. They tend to share several qualities and are used to complement and highlight each other's traits. Common mirror characters embark on parallel plots, sometimes to achieve a single goal, which tests them and highlights their traits in different ways.”

From https://www.helpingwritersbecomeauthors.com/literary-devices/

But lets look at how their stories are reflected differently.

Because whilst they are very similar, they have also made drastically different choices,

Miguel was a total dick to Robby during the first AVT and he cheated. Robby has never cheated.

Robby, in cold blood, violated and dehumanised another person out of a misguided attempt to protect a friend.  Miguel has never calmly and with full clarity deliberately harmed another person.

We can see the difference support + grounding VS complete absence of any support or guidance has on their narrative paths.

Miguel fucked up in AVT - but he received proportional consequences and guidance after this screw up.  His girlfriend not only dumped him, but wouldn;t even speak to him and told him he was turning into a horrible person. His mother made it clear she didn’t like his mean side. His Sensei reamed him out, public punished him and made him go back to a white belt.

But Johnny also took the time to explain why to Miguel. Because he wanted Miguel to know the difference between Mercy and Honour.

Miguel has clearly learned this lesson - and he has interpreted it for himself. He has taken what worked from Johnny’s teachings and what worked from Daniel’s teachings and is trying to find his way in the world without karate violence.

Miguel was in a coma for more than two weeks and nearly died. Miguel was paralysed for months and had to relearn how to walk. Miguel had paid the highest price out of anyone for the karate drama.

What is his take away from this extremely harsh lesson - Karate is for defence only.

After the school fight - Miguel always tries to de-escalate any conflict. This makes so much sense. Miguel paid such a high price last time karate drama spiraled out of control.

When Robby comes to the dojo, Miguel stumbles in shock and stays out of their conversation until Robby starts talking aggressively to Sam. Then Miguel reminds him that Robby’s stint in juvie wasn’t Sam’s fault. (It wasn’t anyone’s fault, but Robby isn’t in the headspace to hear that).  Miguel says he will act to protect Sam, but makes no move towards Robby. It is Sam who intervenes when Robby throws the first punch.

At the house fight, Miguel tries to reason with Tory. He talks to her like she’s a person, and tries to reason with her and remind her that she has choices and she doesn’t have to do this.  Miguel is using a common tactic that is used when diffusing mob violence - calling people by their name and appealing to their inner humanity and making it clear that they are responsible for their actions and cannot hide behind the anonymous mob because they are SEEN as the person they are. Tory attacks anyway - but Miguel making that effort, when others write her off, is telling.

At the drive in, Miguel earnestly tries to diffuse the situation and reminds everyone of the no-figthing rule. Robby stomps all over this potential olive branch by mocking Miguel for the time that he put him in a coma.

(It is so interesting for me that Miguel in season 4 has fully taken on Robby’s season 2 role of peace-maker and I am fascinated to how Robby reacts to this reflection of his former self.)

At the AVT, when it is clear there is no chance of de-escalation and he feels completely disillusioned in Johnny (and feels like Johnny loves Robby more), Miguel does the ultimate Miyagi Move.  No Be There.  He dips out of the final fight completely, and washes his hands of the karate nonsense.  A trophy isn’t worth hurting his friend or damaging his spine. He doesn’t want to fight Robby. Miguel in season 4 doesn’t want to fight at all.

Robby on the other hand,  is full of fight... and in the end it makes him miserable.

Robby received absolutely no support after the school fight.

Robby faced a horrible and disproportional punishment. But his time in juvie certainly didn’t help Robby become a better version of himself. Robby didn’t learn anything that will help him heal and grow in juvie.

With only Kreese’s guidance, Robby learned to strike first, focus on his anger and the unfairness of his situation, and place the blame for all his problems on others.

 Robby after juvie no longer tries to see other people’s points of view, and isn’t interested in finding a compromise, or learning a better way.  The extreme unfairness of his situation causes him immense anger and he lashes out at people who do generally care about him.

He is isolated and vulnerable to a predator like Kreese.

 While Robby considers himself above falling for the brainwashing of CK,  and thinks he’s just using Kreese and Silver to get what he wants (What is that exactly? I have a feeling its the same thing it’s always been; to get back at Johnny and get his attention).  But a 17 year old drop out will never hold the power against a master manipulator and an insane billionaire. We watch Robby react as they wind him up and set him off. (How many times does Kreese play the Miguel card with Robby? It’s a lot, and it always works).

We watch Robby succumb to the worst of Cobra Kai teachings, in a way that mirrors Miguel in season 1.  Because no kid, no matter how good and kind they are in their heart, is completely immune to Cobra Kai; Not Miguel, and Not Robby. 

Because Kids often feel powerless and they want power - and CK promises to give them that.

(It also gives them a buttload of trauma, poor coping mechanisms, reduces their critical thinking skills and and indoctrinates them into a life ruining philosophy, but anyway...)

Robby’s aggression in Season 4 mirrors Miguel’s aggression at the AVT. He is so focused on his anger and jealousy and channelling those feelings. IT may make him a stronger fighter, but it’s hurting him inside.  Robby is emotionally aware enough to recognises its hurting him.

And if Robby is mirroring Miguel’s journey, I can only hope he will get the unconditional love, structure and support that Miguel was given after he screwed up at the AVT in season 5.

#Robby and Miguel #Miguel Diaz #Robby Keene #Let these two boys be friends #They are both the level-headed mom friend of their groups #Like they would actually get along so well if they put aside their jealous over Johnny #I feel like some Robby Stans actually dont want him to get better? #like some of them really don't want him to heal #the super passionate apologists - what are they even apologising for? Robby is one of the most popular characters #Robby is great #people love him #Attacking Miguel doesn't make Robby a better person #Emletish rants #Emletish rambles about Cobra Kai

[hoaqins-funk-house]

Springtrap

Yandere

Male Reader

Part 1

Sitting in the black swivel chair, you spin once or twice before coming to a stop, grimacing at the feeling of sticky floors beneath your shoes. This place is brand new, how the hell are the floors sticky? 

Actually, on that note, how is everything so covered in dust?

Sighing, your mindless fidgeting comes to a stop as the phone, just as dinky as the walls around you, begins to ring. You pick it up but put it back on the table, eyes drifting to the laptop and swing-out tablet. When you flip the former open, you note the four buttons, each relating to something you would have to reset when it comes time to. The latter has cameras that are scattered around, including a separate tab for vents. There’s an option to block off vents, which sends a chill up your spine as you glance to the big ass one at your side.

You decide to block that one off for now.

Humming, you familiarize yourself with the layout of the place, deciding to ignore the shadows that crept through your vision.

Your unenthused eyes scan and take in everything. The replicas (you had seen the originals, and they were permanently stained with both the smell and color of pizza sauce and lawsuits) that were in and around the office, as well as the little bobbleheads that sat on your desk of the animatronics, which were, for some reason, human? You boop the one who you assume to be Freddy, hearing the familiar squeak. 

A small smile comes to your lips.

It was at this time that you realized you had completely ignored the man on the phone, but you couldn't really bring yourself to care. 

The little drawings that were put up were authentic; not just anyone could recreate what a child's mind spits out and decides to draw. 

That Freddy looks a bit fucked up.

The posters were cutely designed, and after getting the gist of what everything was and how everything works, you were on your phone the rest of the night.

When six strikes, you casually leave, giving the building a quick once over as you leave the doors, locking them behind you.

If every night is going to be like that, this is going to get boring.

-

He’s stuck.

This suit traps him like a rabid dog, eager to stay gripped onto his neck.

Still, things would be changing soon.

He can feel it.

He can feel it as a fresh breeze, the first in many years, hits his nostrils, sending a wave of euphoria through his system. The bloodied musk that hung in the dank room was not a pleasant one.

He can feel it as his body accepts this new host, more and more, until soon, quite soon, he will become one with his vessel. 

Just as the animatronics before him did.

He ponders. 

Why was he being freed from this prison of his own design?

Is he being taken somewhere?

…

Will there be a night guard to terrorize?

A grin takes to his broken lips as he ignores the pain and blood that comes from them. Oh, a night guard! Truly, that will be a sight!

He can't wait. 

For now, however, he must play dead.

My, that voice that shouts with excitement from behind him…

It sounds so familiar.

"Bring the truck around!" He calls. "I found one, a real one! It's got the rips, the weird colors, and what I am going to assume is pizza sauce! Ohohoh man, I hit the jackpot with this one! Fazbear's Fright needed something, and here it is!" 

His congratulatory tone made the man within the suit want to throw up. Finding him was nothing to be happy about; he is despicable, incapable of redemption, and an awful being. 

And you know what? 

That's just the way he likes it.

So to have someone happy to find him, especially for their own purposes?

He won't let it stand. 

Yeah, if this place has a nightguard, he'll kill them without mercy before burning the entire thing to the ground.

Might as well make it fun for himself.

As light peeks through, clearly originating from a flashlight, he feels his pupils shrink, resisting the urge to let out a groan as his weak eyes ache from their decades of being in the dark.

"Whoahoh! This one looks gnarly!" The same man as before speaks, probably referencing the organs and tendons that were showing. "C'mon, let's get it up!"

His grin only grows as two people lift him onto a dolly, beginning the move.

Goodbye, saferoom.

And hello, Fazbear's Fright.

-

Humming, you walk into the building, skimming over the decorations once more before noticing something.

The papers that had fallen onto the ground from before, they had dirt on them. Not surprising on its own, but when they were in the shape of tire tracks? 

You decide to follow them, using your memory of the cameras to guide you through the building, which was already rather linear anyway.

Entering the last area, you could see a rather dilapidated animatronic suit, with organs visible and its fur matted with blood. Real blood. The old Springbonnie suit was nearly green from how old and dirty it was.

Your eyebrows raise. "Is that guy just stupid or did he knowingly bring in a suit that has a dead body in it?"

Honestly, you didn't care. "Eh, whatever. It'll probably start moving when I start my shift… I've heard those rumors about the other locations." You turn, stretching, unaware of the eyes that followed you or the head that turned your way.

Damn, does he want to kill this one?

Well, he can think it over more soon. After the merge.

He grins again, feeling his uneven, gouged skin begin to flare with pain.

You exit the room fully, making your way back to the office with all the urgency of an ADHD-riddled person doing laundry.

Which is to say… not much.

You fall into the chair, cursing as the thin mesh cushion does nothing to protect your tailbone from the metal frame of the chair. The phone rings not a moment later, you picking it up and laying it on the table again, eager to ignore it just as you had done before. You stretch again, arms raising above your head as you begin to flip through cameras, finding the rabbit in the same spot it was in before. 

You yawn.

Hopefully it starts moving soon, or else the entire reason you took this job would be unfulfilled. 

You were bored, and you remembered this place from the times you had gone with your younger brother, who was now in his early twenties. You, however, were 28 years of age, with nothing better to do than 'investigate' the Fazbear's Fright that opened up. Still, if that rabbit has a corpse in it, it should make things more fun.

As you lazily flip through your cameras, you set it down and look to the side, seeing a rather dirty looking man with an eyepatch and fox ears. To his confusion, before he could lunge at you, you reach out and swipe a hand through his chest. You continue to swipe forwards and backwards, the incorporeal man stuck standing there until you leaned back.

"So, you're a ghost."

His mouth opens as if to retort, but he just gives up and leaps at you, you not even looking at him anymore. He closes his mouth halfway through the jump, and with an unsatisfied sigh, he disappears.

You continue flipping through the cameras, checking in on the rabbit a couple of times before shoving the tablet out of the way, opening the laptop to have it ready and sitting back in your chair.

You glance towards a shifting figure in front of the window, the hat and bear ears telling of who it is. He limps along, eventually falling beneath your view before seemingly phasing through the wall and leaping at you. You stare passively as he does so, him not completing the jump to instead stand in front of you, confused. 

For shits and giggles, you wave your hand through his chest once or twice.

"Why… aren't you… scared?" He croaks, voice ruined from years of no use.

"Oh, was I supposed to be scared?" You genuinely ask. "Uh, sorry. If you do it again I promise I'll hyperventilate."

"Don't try to… lessen your survival chances…"

"Okay. My bad." 

He sighs, and after annoyedly rubbing his face, he disappears.

You flip out your cameras once more, finding the screen obscured by static and a small error in the center. Lazily, you reset cams.

When your screen clears, you check the rabbit. He looks… strange. Like his body is evolving in front of your eyes. 

To be honest, you don't give enough of a shit to watch a potentially world-changing discovery if it looks that gross. You aren't paid enough to, anyway.

At this pay grade, you even coming into the damn building is volunteer work.

You check your phone for the time, seeing a cool time of one in the morning. 

"Aside from that science experiment gone wrong happening in the back room, it's still really damn boring."

However, it's still not boring enough to watch that transformation or whatever. That corpse (well, at this point, you kinda doubt it's dead) can do whatever the hell he wants with that suit. It's his body, not your business.

After another fifteen minutes of staring at a wall, you check the cameras to the sound of loud clicks and pops, now seeing a heavily scarred man with 1.5 rabbit ears in place of the suit. He takes one step out from his original spot, body heaving forward before he lifts himself up, looking up at the camera with a grin.

"Huh. That's new." You say, watching him jolt forward, continuing to take steps before relearning how to walk smoothly.

It only takes him a moment to rocket off.

"I doubt that's good." You mumble, beginning to flip through the cameras to follow him before playing a sound in the room behind him, making him pause. He turns, walking back with a confused expression.

Continuing to flip through cameras, you watch as the man, who you'll dub Rabbit Guy, wanders, seemingly having lost his focus. Hearing a sound to your left, you pay no heed to whoever it is, instead waggling your hand in what you would assume to be their torso.

"You're strange…" They say.

"Uh-huh. If you'd excuse me, I am currently working on keeping Rabbit Guy the hell away from me." Your voice is monotonous but sincere; you aren't trying to be sarcastic or mean, just trying to tell them the facts.

Glancing to the side, you see that it was a child, so you were waving your hand in his collar. "Oh, my bad. Does that… make you guys uncomfortable?" You ask, retracting your hand.

"No, we can't feel it." 

"Huh." You blandly respond, playing the sounds to lead Rabbit Guy back to where he started, before resetting sounds as you weren't able to play them anymore.

It seems like Rabbit Guy is getting progressively more and more annoyed at being led back, if his attempts to move fast enough to avoid the sounds or block out his ears meant anything. 

His body was responding to the sounds, not him.

It was then that he disappeared, so you check vents, finding him in one that led directly to the room beside your office.

You block it off, much to his annoyance, before yawning and sitting back as any thumps you hear from inside the vents come to a stop. 

You find him standing in the room where he had entered the vent, irritated as he glares at the camera. Preemptively, you reset all, thankfully right as cams and sound go out. 

Sighing, you lazily check through cameras, brows slightly furrowing as you look for him. He was completely gone, not in vents or in rooms. It really is unfortunate how many blind spots and shadowed areas there are.

When you hear the thumping of the vents, you search through them, only finding a stupid knick-knack laying on its side halfway in your sight.

Looking to your side, you peek into the vent, leaning down to see if anything was there. Your gaze meets Rabbit Guy's. 

"Shit." You say, quickly switching cams over to this one and holding down the seal button. 

Your eyes shift back to him, finding him way too close for comfort. As you lift your finger to let the gate close on the vent, the man (who was crouch walking) catches it, forcing it back up. You hear something grind that definitely shouldn't be grinding, and you have a feeling that that vent cover just might be broken.

Getting out of the vent, he stands over you, waiting for some sort of plea or… literally any response at all.

"So, you, uh… come here often?" You ask, leaving him genuinely at a loss. 

"Wh- was that a pickup line?" His rough, baritone voice catches you slightly off-guard. 

You weren't expecting something that was pretty much a zombie to have such a good voice, or a slight british accent for that matter. "Was it? Shit, more people've flirted with me than I thought."

"Really? That's all you can come up with before your death? I'd hate for those to be your final words." He lightly teases, leaning against the wall with a mean grin. 

You look up at the ceiling with a vague smile, his eyes widening momentarily. "To be honest, of any place to die, I'd much rather have it be in a place where I know I'll reach the front pages than in some random alley."

His grin falls into a frown as he watches you turn to him, the smile still on your face. It feels strange.

He feels strange. 

Why does a random night guard make him feel so…

So… comfortable?

You were calm, collected, not making any sudden moves or even attempting to exit the chair. Theoretically, the perfect prey, but not a satisfying kill. 

If he even wants to kill you, that is.

“What’s your name?” He asks, watching as you spin to face him in your chair. You would be taller if you stood, but he would still have a few inches on you.

“Y/N. You?” 

“I’m… William. Or, rather, I was, when I was well and truly human.”

“And now?” You ask.

“I don’t exactly have a name.”

“Can I still call you William, then? Well, if I live long enough to do so?” You ask, eyes moving up to meet his. Looking up at him like that… He wishes the hot feeling in the pit of his stomach would go away.

“...Fine.”

“I mean… are you going to kill me?” You ask, face not shifting as he glares down at you. 

“I won’t kill you on the first night, you need to give me more entertainment.” At least, that’s what he told himself.

“Oh, so we’re both here for the same reason.” You blankly say, his face contorting from a glare to confusion once more.

“You’re here… for entertainment?” He slowly asks, answered by your nod.

“I’m certainly not here for the pay. This place gives like half of minimum wage but I can’t complain about it because the other part is supposed to come from tips. Somehow.”

“How do you even live?” 

“Well, right now I’m on an paid leave due to some unfortunate deaths in my family. To be honest, I never really cared for any of them, but hey. I’ll take any chance for a break I can. Then I got bored.”

He huffs out a laugh. “So you went to another job on your break?”

“Listen, getting a month off leaves a man with little to do when capitalism has left me with no hobbies. Besides, this gives me a great excuse to continue avoiding people.”

His lips curl into an amused grin as he leans forward, lowering his head to be eye level with yours. "Well, you won't be avoiding me." He practically purrs, you averting your eyes at the tone he uses. 

Why would he say it like that?! 

His golden eyes follow you as you close the laptop's screen, enjoying your reaction. You…

He'll keep you around. 

You're entertaining and friendly. Open, and… warm.

He wonders. 

You're human, and fully alive. He's a revived corpse who merged with his vessel. You probably are very warm compared to him.

When he comes back to his senses, he notices you slowly raising out of your seat, hand outstretched towards him. 

Well, might as well take the chance.

He grabs your wrist, looking down at you unimpressed. You quietly huff, falling back into your chair and forcing him to move away from the wall in order to not dislocate your wrist.

Well, his hypothesis is correct. You are very warm. 

He feels the tightening in his gut, not wanting to let go but knowing that he will have to.

You, however, don't actually care either way. You begin your attempt again, this time with your left hand. Slowly raising out of your seat, you actually manage to stand fully up before he notices again, grabbing your other wrist. 

"What are you even trying to do?" He asks, a light sneer on his lips.

"Well... uh, I was trying to… boop your nose? If you're bonded with one of the original suits, then I figured either you or Fredbear would have the sound effect."

He lets out a few short laughs, his sneer replaced with the same amused grin as before.

"I'm afraid neither of us have the sound effect. That only came about with the second and third generations of animatronics."

You hum, interested.

His eyes quickly scan over you, taking in your form. This position, practically holding you hostage… Needless to say, he didn't dislike it.

Still, he releases you as he catches you glancing at what he assumes to be a phone. Things have advanced quite far since he was trapped. 

You turn it on quickly, checking the time. “Well, we have around an hour and a half before my shift ends, so…” Pausing, you check the time again. An hour and a half?

He steps closer, you glancing back up at him before leaning back as he leans forward, looming over you. “Tomorrow, you best make this more fun for me. I’ll greet you, but then I’ll head to the back. Try and stop me from getting in.”

“Uh, sure. Are you still planning on making the punishment for loss, uh, death?”

His eyes narrow in coordination with a widening grin. “That’s for me to know. You either figure it out, or you don’t. It all depends how well you play.” His gruff voice slightly echoes in the mostly empty building, you nodding in response. 

“Oh, cool. Can I tell my brother about you?” You ask suddenly, him quirking a brow as he stares down at you, easily at least half a foot taller than you. He was always tall, but now that he’s in this new form, he grew to be somewhere from 6’6 to 6’8. You sit down once more, exacerbating the height difference.

“Feel free to. Just know that if he ever comes around here, he won’t be alive for very long.”

“I doubt he will. He’s always preferred Foxy the most because he has taste, but-”

“Taste? For liking that liability-strewn fox? You like him as well?”

“To be honest, I never really liked any of them more than the other. I was in my emo phase when I went to see them, so it was practically illegal for me to like anything. But Foxy had sharp teeth and a wicked lookin’ hook, so… I guess I did.”

He hums, clearly slightly annoyed.

“Are you jealous that I liked the fox more than the rabbit that isn’t even the same generation as you?”

“I really should kill you.” His irritated expression shows the truth to your statement.

“It’s okay, I’m willing to call Springbonnie my favorite.”

Now, William was confused. Your tone… you weren’t joking. You were being genuine about something as stupid as this? What is with you?

“You’re very confusing. I think you joke, and then I listen to your tone and you’re genuine. But still, I wouldn’t mind if you did so.”

“It’s not nearly as confusing as how time passes in this place. It’s been like ten minutes since I met you but the clock says like three or four hours have passed.”

“What? Really?” His brows furrow as he steps closer, finding another excuse to close the distance between you both as he leans over the chair, seeing you pointing to the screen. “How strange…”

“Yeah. It doesn’t seem like tomorrow’s hunt will last for six hours, then. Thankfully.” You sigh.

“What, do you not want to feel like my prey for six hours straight?” He grins, leaning over further until his arm rests on your shoulder.

You shiver. “Why do you have to say it like that?”

“Because it makes you react, obviously. It’s entertaining to watch you squirm from something as simple as... the tone of my voice.” Of course, in order to prove his point, he does exactly what he did before, lowering his voice a few pitches and upping the growliness of it.

In covering your eyes, you also cover your cheeks, which have gained a slight flush. “William, I am begging you. Please, please, please, stop talking like that.”

And, naturally progressing, he was left somewhat stunned by the sound of your pleading tone. There’s just something about it, especially as you say his name, that makes him want to…

...makes him want to chase, and capture, and possess forever.

You as his prized prey, and him as the hunter.

“I’ll use it when necessary.” He vaguely answers, watching your head droop.

“I’ll take what I can get.” You concede breathily. 

He chuckles, hearing the chime of a bell, signifying 6 in the morning. "Well, I suppose I'll see you tomorrow, then. Don't keep me waiting."

"Asshole. I won't." You turn your head away from him, hiding the flush on your face, and stand up, stretching. "See ya, William."

He hums, eyes tracing your form as you stretch. It was a nice view, watching the button up shirt crease around your back as you stretch, clearly hinting at the muscle beneath. His eyes did drift lower once or twice, and that's how he figures out that damn, you have a really nice ass!

You begin to walk out, and he follows you with his eyes, watching you turn past the replica Freddy husk and unlock the door, exiting into the fresh morning. His eyelids droop, gaze slipping up as his lips curl into a wide grin.

“Y/N… I won’t kill you. Especially not when I’m presented with such an ample opportunity to make this into something so entertaining.” 

Well…

Is that the only reason?

Of course, he knows it isn’t.

His grin falls, leaving him coldly leering at the aged panels above him before his sight shifts back to the room around him. As he exits the office, he glances at the stained and shaded glass of the door, not allowing much, if any, light in. He turns away, heading back to where he was originally.

As he walks, he lets his form shift, feeling his body grow to his previous monster rabbit self, the creaks of his metal joints loud in the silent building. 

He ignores any shadows that creep in the edges of his vision, the specters traversing without sound. 

“This is going to be… boring.” His voice, far rougher than before, comes out unfeeling and croaky. As he returns to his previous position, slouching over once more, he decides to use his old tactic to pass time; inflicting enough pain on himself to fall unconscious. It doesn’t matter if his dreams are infested with darkness, nor how much he suffers in them. 

It was better than the boredom of sitting in one position with an unchanging environment.

He begins forcing his muscles to flex and strain within the suit and pull against the beams they have welded to, making him grit his teeth before the searing pain fades away, along with his vision.

Goodnight, Y/N.

-

“Yo.” You greet your brother, the man tiredly yawning as he ruffles his hair.

“Heya, Y/N. What’re you up so early for?” 

“Well, I got bored and got a night shift job at this dinky little horror attraction opening up next week. I decided to tell you about what happened there before I head off to sleep.”

“You got bored during a break from your job so you… got another job?”

“Y’know, William said the same thing.” You say, your brother narrowing his eyes at you.

“A coworker?” He asks. 

“Eh, not quite… he is the reason I stayed up to talk to you, though.”

He hums, walking around the couch you were splayed on with your shirt half unbuttoned. 

“So, to begin my tale, you remember Freddy’s? The pizzeria with the animatronics?” You question.

“Yeah?”

“Well the horror place I went to is based off of that; it’s filled with replicas and a few actual things from the pizzerias of the past, but something came in tonight that was… different.”

“Which was?”

“An animatronic. One of the originals, Springbonnie. Granted, the suit was ripped to shit and covered in enough dirt to be green, but it was authentic. It even has the dead body! Well - not so dead body, but still visible.”

“Did you call the cops?” He asks, worried.

“Hell no! I’m not paid enough to give a shit about what could-or-could-not-be a dead body. Either way, he transformed into a human, which was rather odd, but-”

“Just to be clear, this rabbit had a dead body inside and transformed into a human, and you don’t question it?”

“No. Continuing on, he got into my office and then we talked for a bit, I learned that his name is William, time passed really weirdly, and then we struck a deal where I have to keep him out of my office or I'll maybe die.”

“You’re still going back there?! And ‘maybe die?!’”

“Yeah, he said the knowledge about whether or not I die from losing the hunt was ‘for him to know.’ I didn’t question it further.” 

“You know, Y/N, sometimes it feels like I’m the older sibling. You’re fucking stupid.”

“I’m well aware.”

He leans over the couch, glaring down at you. “Then wisen up and quit that damn job.”

“I’m good. William is good company.”

“He threatened to kill you!”

“And? He hasn’t. Yet.”

“You infuriate me, gayboy.” He says, stepping away from the couch.

“Cool. I’ll sleep here for now, when you get back from work I’ll definitely be up.”

“Whatever.” He waves his hand at you, ignoring the middle finger pointing his direction from behind the couch’s back.

---

Part 2

also a lot of the stuff i write from now on may be male reader inserts lol

heres my springtrap design

here's the updated design lol

#springtrap #springtrap x reader #william afton #william afton x reader #afton #fnaf #fnaf x reader #fnaf 3 #yandere #yandere fnaf #yandere springtrap #five nights at freddy's #yandere x reader #x reader #male reader #male insert #reader insert #fnaf springtrap #gay

[thanks-mike-stamford]

Fics that inspire my writing - Part I

This is Part I. The other parts will be linked here as they are posted: Part II | Part III

When people ask "What's your favourite fic?" I can't truly give an answer. It depends on my mood! How can I choose only one? Sometimes you want to reread that one fic for emotional comfort, sometimes you want that other one for the hots, sometimes you want to suffer a bit with the characters and have the relief of the happy ending, and sometimes you love a fic so so so much, but it hurts and you don't pick it up again ever. There's no way I can choose a favourite.

So this is just a disclaimer that this list is not really about favourites.

This list is about writing.

I'm not as prolific as a writer than I am as a reader. I try to do my best, of course. The best way to learn a lot about writing, though? I have to say it's reading. I can attribute most of my vocabulary (in all languages I know) to reading. When talking about writing fiction, it's more than vocabulary, though: narrative, prose, dialogues, plot, characters, themes... It's a lot happening.

These fics I'm going to mention are the ones that I read and think yo myself: oooh, I wish I could write like that. So I use them to study! Perhaps I could try this type of narrative? Or I could build my characters to be complex in this way? Perhaps I could phrase things in a less mechanical way, like this author does?

I'm drafting a lot of stuff recently and in these new works I'm trying to improve the way I write. I'm a quick reader but slow writer, but I hope my future works can show I learned from these stories below.

So, here we go, 10 Fics That Inspire My Writing, in no particular order. This list is not exhaustive either, it was horrible to choose just 10.

Part I

Limping forward series by bendingsignpost

I absolutely love this series, which is a main fic from John's POV and a short prequel from Sherlock's POV, supposed be read after the main story. I'll refer to the main story from now on.

This fic is dialogue-heavy. The moments of description are usually very close to the POV, and while it's used to indicate actions, the main purpose is always to show what John is feeling by how he interacts with whatever and whoever is around him. Sometimes we are left with dialogues that are not explicit. The characters know exactly what they mean, by the described reactions, but the reader is left to wonder - or most importantly, to actually think about what they mean given the context. The fic feels almost like an intelectual exercise in which we practice how to read people's feelings. The climax of the fic doesn't come from a misunderstanding that can be fixed with a conversation, for example. It comes from an emotional misunderstanding, and it's brutal, because there's no way it couldn't happen. Both John, Sherlock, and the reader need to understand the meanings behind the actions - if you have a bias or trauma, it can be hard. Sherlock's deduction at the climax scene comes from an emotional perspective - he deduces how John felt, and that would finally explain John's actions, which weren't clear for him. Just like Sherlock says in the story - it's magnificent.

These two aspects - dialogue with implicit meaning and description with a purpose - are aspects I lack in my own writing. I struggle immensely with dialogue, and my descriptions are usually "Character A is here or there, talking to B or C, and they're thinking X or Y". I look up to how this fic works in trying to get better, and I did try to incorporate those "invisible conversations" into my works.

The Illusion of Control series by starrysummernights

Uuuh, omegaverse! Not everyone's cup of tea. I love omegaverse though, for two reasons: you can create completely different world dynamics and sex/gender dynamics, and play with it.

This series needed to be a series. Every part is important. We have alternating POVs of John and Sherlock. If you read the series as a WIP, as it was posted, you could have been under the impression that it was strictly porny. But it helps a ton to read it following the chronology of the story (the prequels and sequels to the original one were attributed accordingly). Because the trick of this series is John's character arc. We are immediately presented with John's life story since childhood until he starts a relationship with Sherlock. He has endured great emotional trauma, but at first he doesn't even recognise he has been traumatised. Lifelong issues build up and eventually will spill over. It's not quick to deal with it, that's why it needs a full series. His relationship with Sherlock deepens, he needs to make some important choices, he faces great struggles. And step by step, we follow John's journey. It's absolutely brilliant to get there. It hurts, but it hurts good. And it's nobody's fault, at the end. He's not reduced to his issues, he's an entire complex person, but we are always aware how said issues played an important role in shaping this character.

Writing such a long story, posting it out of chronological order, and not losing sight of the character arc is what makes this fic stand out. One of my published fics specifically took great inspiration in this one while building a character arc for John.

Trying to Find The In-Between by NoStraightLine

Later on this was re-posted as a multi chapter fic, but I originally read it as a series when it was a WIP, and personally I think it works better this way.

This amazing work taught me a lot about causes and consequences. I think the entire series can be grouped in three parts. First part is the beginning of their relationship. They are learning about each other, playing piece by piece like a puzzle. Then second part is around Reichenbach Fall, they separate and emotional fuckery ensues, up until Sherlock comes back, the pinnacle of angst. Third and last part is them relearning each other from scratch. The relationship needs to be completely different - and they don't even know if they will get together after all, if it will ever work again. And here's the main point: it's not a single decision that warrants consequences. They had a super intense relationship at first - but if you go too high, the fall is worse. Everything is borderline unhealthy, but it could easily be attributed to love. The author doesn't shy away from showing us it's a bit of both: big love can be a bit unhealthy. To put up boundaries between them so they both keep sane you also need to limit how you treat each other, and what you expect from each other.

This fic made me think I need to estimate the consequences of how I build up characters' interactions. The reactions need to be accordingly to that measure. In one fic I tried to play with this intensity ended up being borderline unhealthy. Not something you'd want in real life, of course, but in fiction... anything is possible.

This is the end of Part I. Stay tuned for Parts II and III!

#johnlock #sherlock fanfic #writing #hoverseas talks about fic

[strawberriestyles]

Chapter 23

(Banner made by sweet sunshine @harry-nofookingway-styles​)

Harry X OFC (AU)

Sequel to Brutality: In which Melody and Harry must relearn how to navigate one another among a flurry of changes.

Read previous parts here.

Author’s note: HELLO EVERYBODY. BIG APOLOGIES FOR THE LONG ASS WAIT BUT HERE SHE IS. PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK. I AM STILL WORKING ON THE NEXT CHAPTER AND I CAN’T PROMISE WHEN I WILL POST AGAIN, BUT HOPEFULLY IT WILL BE SOON. HOPE YOU’RE ALL WELL!!! (If you feel so inclined, I do have a ko-fi now, and coffee sure does help me on writing sprees. *wink wink*)

“Mel.” Harry skimmed a hand down the side of her neck to the bandage that covered her small cut, where she’d been sliced by Colton’s knife. For all intents and purposes, she appeared dead to the world, but she usually did when she slept this late into the day. “Melody, wake up.”

Her eyes fluttered open, vision blurry. And she jumped when she felt Harry’s hand shift on her throat, pushing him away with a gasp.

“‘S me,” he told her gently, crouching down beside the bed until he was at eye level with her, watching her face relax in realization. “‘S only me.”

“You’re okay?” she whispered. She hadn’t been able to speak to him at all the night before. He’d been whisked away for an MRI the moment they’d stepped foot in the hospital, and when she’d been allowed into his room, the pain meds they’d pumped into him had already knocked him unconscious. At some point in the middle of the night, he’d woken her and coaxed her out of her chair, into the hospital bed with him, but they’d both been too tired to speak more than a couple words before falling back to sleep.

“‘M fine,” he answered, nodding.

Melody sighed in relief. She watched Harry rest his chin on the edge of the mattress as she shifted onto her back, then rubbed at her tired eyes. “Did you hear what Brian said?” she whispered. It was almost too quiet to be a hospital. She wasn’t surprised when she glanced at the door and found it closed.

“Not last night,” he said. “Didn’ hear anythin’ anyone said last night. I was completely out of it.” He paused and then nodded slowly. “But he told me this mornin’.”

The air felt heavy. Melody had so many thoughts, but she didn’t know what any of them were. Her mind was a jumble of string, and she couldn’t find an end to yank and untangle.

“Are yeh okay?” Harry asked. He reached for her hand, dragging it across the bed and pressing his lips to her knuckles, gentle with the dark bruises from when she’d hit CJ. “Mel, yeh don’ feel bad, do yeh?” His voice was quiet, gentle. It was so different from everything she’d heard leave his mouth the day before—when he’d argued with CJ, when he’d snapped at her in the car, when he’d spoken so urgently to her and Colton. “He wouldn’ have felt bad if he hurt yeh. He didn’ regret almost killin’ me.”

Melody shook her head, sitting up. “No,” she muttered, pulling the strap of her tank top back up her shoulder. “No, of course not. It’s just...complicated.”

Harry agreed. None of this was simple. “Yeh wanna get dressed, love?” he asked. “Bea and Josie are here. And Sean went downstairs to grab us some breakfast.”

Melody glanced toward the door, nodding. “Is Vanessa here?”

Harry stood, dropping Melody’s hand to reach for the bag that Bea had brought for her. He dug beneath her dress—now rumpled and bloody—for the fresh clothes Bea had packed, tossing a t-shirt and leggings onto the bed. “She wanted to stay until yeh woke up,” he said, “but she worked a double yesterday. She went home to sleep. She said to have you call her when yeh feel like it.”

Melody glanced at her phone on the table beside the bed. Somehow, Bea had found it in her suitcase before leaving the apartment. But Melody hadn’t taken a moment to check her notifications. She knew that she’d have to talk to her mom. Speaking with Vanessa sounded a lot less dreadful, but despite the deep sleep Harry had woken her from, it was as if she had no energy left to explain what had happened. She barely had the energy to process it herself.

Trying not to fall into the vivid memories of the night before, Melody slipped her tank top off and switched it for the t-shirt Harry had laid out for her. When she’d changed her pants and raked her hands through her hair, she found Harry staring out the window, his arms crossed, his eyes unfocused.

“Are you okay?” she whispered, lifting a hand to touch his shoulder when he didn’t respond. “Harry?”

“Hm?” he murmured. He glanced down at her, dazed, and nodded. “Yeah, ‘m fine. Uh, Brian needs me to identify the body.”

Melody’s stomach seized up. If she had eaten anything since early yesterday afternoon, she might’ve been sick.

“Do you...” she began, sitting back down on the edge of the bed. “Uh, do you need me to come with you?”

“No.” Harry shook his head fiercely. He watched relief spread across her face. “No, you can just go home with Bea, yeah?”

Melody clasped her hands in her lap, her brows knitting together. “Are you sure?”

“Of course ‘m sure,” Harry said. “I can do it alone.”

The minutes of panic from the day before raced through Harry’s mind again—minutes that had seemed to last for hours. Despite his efforts to shake them, the memories had flashed like strobe lights since he’d woken up. Melody’s terrified face, Colton’s grin, the gleam of the knife, the feeling of sheer uselessness, of helplessness. And the apologies afterward, like Melody had expected to take Colton down single-handedly.

“Melody,” Harry said quietly, uncrossing his arms to press his palms into the mattress, “yeh know I didn’ expect yeh to turn around and knock him out, right?”

She pulled her lip between her teeth and turned her head away from him. Like she was embarrassed. He shook his head slowly, confused and exasperated.

“He had a fuckin’ knife to your throat,” he reminded her.

Melody sighed, staring at the wall before her. “But I—”

“But nothin’, okay?” Harry interrupted. He caught her chin, turning her face toward him. “If all yeh ended up with was this little cut,” he continued, running a finger down to the edge of the bandage on her neck, “then I don’ care. Yeh’re okay. Tha’s what matters to me.” Melody blinked silently, shivering as his fingers drifted over her skin. Harry drew in a deep breath. “And ‘m sorry for snappin’ at yeh in the car,” he added in a whisper.

Melody’s lips pursed. She reached up to grip his wrist, dragging his hand away from her neck, where his touch still tickled. “It’s fine.”

“No, ‘s not. It wasn’ fair,” he protested. “Yeh weren’ doin’ anythin’ wrong.”

Melody studied the tense lines of his face. Their conversation before arriving back at the apartment was the last thing she was worried about. It seemed weeks ago, rather than only a few hours. “How’s your head?” she asked.

Harry nodded softly. “Okay. Still aches a little, but ’m fine. How’s your hand?” He reached for the one in her lap when she merely shrugged, bending her fingers, gentle. “That hurt?”

Melody’s wince answered him. She pressed her lips tightly together. “Mhmm.”

Someone knocked at the door. Melody stiffened.

“Can we come in yet?” Bea asked, poking her head into the room. “Is she awake?”

“I’m awake,” Melody assured her, drawing her hand out of Harry’s and relaxing her sore fingers.

“Oh, good.” The door swung open as Bea entered the room, closely followed by Josie. Sean trailed after them, his hands full, hugging cups of coffee to his chest. They all looked just as tired as Melody felt, and the unbridled worry in their eyes had her fighting back a rush of tears.

“Hi,” Sean murmured, stepping in front of Bea and Josie to hand Melody some breakfast—a bagel and a container of fruit. She took the cup of coffee he handed her with a sigh of thanks. But it was quiet as he passed another breakfast off to Harry, like everyone was wondering where to start a conversation.

“Um,” Bea began, scratching at her temple, where a curl was tickling her, “how did the visit go?”

Melody took a sip of lukewarm, watery coffee and shook her head.

“Oh, no.” Bea glanced at Harry, her eyes narrowed in accusation. “What’d he do?”

Josie barked out a laugh and then clapped a hand over her mouth, turning toward the door. But the damage had already been done. Harry cocked his head at both of them, raising an eyebrow in offense.

“It was me, actually,” Melody said. She watched Bea shoot Harry a short, apologetic look and then avoid his gaze. “CJ showed up.”

“Yikes,” Bea hissed. Her nose wrinkled in distaste. “I thought he wasn’t going. Didn’t he have a tennis match or something?”

Maybe it shouldn’t have bothered him, but hearing Bea talk about CJ so casually rubbed Harry the wrong way. When had she and Melody talked about him? How did Bea know that CJ had a tennis match? And if CJ’s presence or absence was so important, why did Harry feel so out of the loop? But instead of wondering aloud, he only muttered, “Of course he plays fuckin’ tennis.”

Josie gave a dry snort, side-eyeing him. “What’s wrong with tennis?”

“Do yeh play?”

“No.”

“Then, why does it matter?”

Josie rolled her eyes and turned toward Melody. “Well, we’re kind of having the same issue,” she said, tipping her head in Bea’s direction. “My parents won’t even let me in the house.” When Harry looked blankly at her, she added, “Very religious family.”

Harry frowned, raising a brow. “Yeh work in a bar.”

Josie scoffed. “And you’re unemployed,” she snapped back. “See how rude it sounds?”

Melody set her coffee to the side and pressed a hand to her forehead when Harry opened his mouth to speak again. She was relieved that everyone was avoiding the topic of Colton, of the entire reason they were in the hospital to begin with, but this was not the sort of conversation she wanted to hear instead. “Can you both stop, please?” she muttered.

Bea sighed. “Do you wanna go home?” she asked Melody. “You’re ready?”

A swift nod later, Harry was stuffing her dirty clothes back into her bag, zipping it up and handing it over to Bea. Josie reached for Melody’s coffee.

“I’m gonna stick with Harry,” Sean said as Melody climbed off of the bed.

For the first time since she woke, she let her hand drift to her neck, to her bandaged wound. She could feel the slightest sting when she applied pressure. It was a small cut—insignificant, really—but that didn’t stop her mind from wandering. What if Colton had kept a better grip? What if she hadn’t slipped so perfectly from the circle of his arm? And what if Harry hadn’t been so lucky? What if he’d suffered more than that skull-splitting headache?

“Melody,” Harry whispered. She blinked and he was standing in front of her, rubbing his chin, the skin smooth and shaven so neatly for meeting her parents. He lifted his other hand and his fingers circled her wrist, drawing her arm back to her side. She hadn’t realized she’d still been touching the bandage. “Are yeh still here?”

“What?” she murmured back.

He drew in a slow breath and shrugged. “Yeh space out when yeh’re stressed,” he explained. “Sure yeh’re okay?”

Melody glanced down at his hand, still looped around her wrist, his thumb dancing across the thin bones. “Yeah,” she said. “I’m fine.”

He nodded briefly, though he didn’t believe her in the slightest. “I’ll go right back to the apartment when ‘m done here, okay?” He waited for a nod or a hum, some form of acknowledgment, but it didn’t come. “Mel.”

She shook her head, as if waking from a daze, and looked up to meet his eyes. “Okay.”

Harry pressed his palm to the side of her face, thumbing over her cheekbone. The skin beneath her eyes was dark and swollen, her lips raw from all of her constant chewing, the bruise at her chin only just beginning to yellow. She looked like she’d been dragged through hell, and maybe she had. Maybe this was her personal hell.

“See yeh soon,” Harry breathed, ducking to press a swift kiss to her forehead. He stepped aside so that Bea and Josie could usher her out of the room, and he watched until they disappeared around the edge of the doorway.

“Are you ready?” Sean asked when they were alone, clapping Harry’s shoulder with a firm hand. “Might as well get it over with, right?”

“Right,” Harry muttered. He dragged a palm down his face, setting his shoulders. Even if he wasn’t ready, time wasn’t going to pause until he could collect himself, so he would fake it. The same way Melody faked that calm stolidity.

“Let’s go.”

***

The following days were uncomfortable. Melody’s apartment, the place she’d made her own, the space she’d spent so much time occupying, no longer seemed to belong to her. There was a dull spot in the floor where Bea had scrubbed at Colton’s dried blood. And no matter how hard she tried to remember that he’d only spent minutes inside, whereas she’d lived there for years, Melody couldn’t stop picturing him in the kitchen, imagining him stepping through the door behind her while she was letting her suitcase topple over, unaware. Somehow, he seemed so much more present when his actual presence was impossible. He was no longer a distant figure standing in the shadows, but he’d already come and gone, and forgetting how it had felt to be pressed against him, his clammy hand tangled in her dress, was not going to happen overnight. He was a ghost, lurking in the corners, breathing down the back of her neck.

Harry was at a loss. When he’d helped ease Melody’s nightmares those months ago, he’d felt purposeful, useful, maybe even needed. But nothing he did now seemed to lessen the strain. He could comfort her when she woke in a fit, but he couldn’t keep Melody’s bad dreams at bay. And it was eating at him. He wished she could share with him, that he could press his forehead to hers and lighten the load she carried, or that he could at least understand the terror that still gripped her while she slept. That same agonizing helplessness that he’d felt when Colton had tried pulling her out of the apartment—Harry felt it spark in his gut each time Melody awoke in tears.

And to add to it, Colton’s face seemed permanently etched into the backs of Harry’s eyelids. Not his sneer or his chafing laughter, not that sharp smirk that he liked to wear—the cold, lifeless face he wore in death. It was the calm face that had appeared when the coroner had unzipped that black body bag in the morgue. Harry had never seen Colton look so peaceful and still. He’d always been moving. Even in sleep he mumbled and twitched. Seeing him so utterly devoid of noise and movement made the finality of it all almost palpable.

Harry’s mind was constantly churning now. The length of time for which he could focus seemed to wane as his thoughts flitted by like frames in a film reel. He was somewhere else entirely when he felt the electric force of Melody’s right-handed swing through the mitt she aimed for.

Her next punch came harder.

His eyes, which had been passively following her form—watching her muscles twist and her limbs stretch in order to gauge where to position his mitts—snapped to her face. Her skin was sheeted in sweat, strands of hair plastered to her temples. The red in her cheeks only highlighted the raw, torn skin of her chewed lips.

“Mel,” Harry tried. She wasn’t looking at him. He wasn’t sure if she was even registering that he was behind those mitts or if she’d simply clocked out. Her torso twisted back and forth with the brutal speed of her alternating hits. “Melody,” he tried again, raising his voice to cut through her stupor, “tha’s enough.”

Melody redirected her arm mid-swing. The change in course threw her off-balance and she stumbled sideways, toward the boxing ring beside them. Harry caught her with an arm around her waist before she fell completely. The two of them froze for a moment. Then Melody’s head swung, her eyes darting about the gym until she was satisfied that nobody was watching them.

A strangled whimper passed her lips. Harry’s arm tightened on her sweaty torso, pressing her into his chest. “Shh,” he murmured softly, batting the mitts from his hands with a couple of impatient flicks, “shh.” He stepped backward, lifting her off her feet and swinging her into the hallway that led to the locker rooms. It was quieter here.

Harry set Melody down, propping her against the closest wall. He took a short step back and leaned down until he could see her face clearly, brushing hair away from her cheeks, noting the tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

“Yeh’re fine, love. Wha’s wrong?”

Melody swallowed, then blinked, and in the next second she was tearing at the velcro of her right glove and flinging it to the floor, then closing the space which separated her from Harry, grasping the back of his neck as he began to draw away. She pulled at him until she could reach his lips and kissed him with a firm mouth. His palms tightened on her jaw for a moment, his lips stilled with surprise. There was a moment before he kissed her back, and then it only lasted for a heartbeat. He reached behind him for her wrist, withdrawing her fingers from his hair, his other hand slipping over her side.

“Melody,” he breathed, pushing against her hip to add space between them. “Mel, hey.”

Melody relented, flattening against the wall, squeezing her eyes shut. “I’m sorry,” she whispered as she tipped her head back, peeling her eyes open to look up at the ceiling. The tears that had collected began to drip down her face, one by one.

Harry shook his head in confusion. “Wha’s goin’ on?” he asked gently, reaching for her face again. He drew his thumbs through the wet tracks streaking her cheeks. “I thought yeh’d feel better.”

Melody let out a garbled sob, twisting her head until she could see out into the rest of the gym. Everyone else continued on, oblivious.

“Melody,” Harry pressed.

“It’s not fair!” she cried, dipping her chin for a moment and finally freeing her other hand from its glove. When she looked up again, she met his gaze head-on. “It’s not fair that he almost killed you and now he’s just gone. And I still close my eyes and see his face like he’s right in front of me. And what he did to you and what he did to me, we have to live with that for the rest of our lives and he just gets to—” She cut herself off with a hiccuped gasp. Her eyes dropped to the collar of Harry’s shirt. She could see the pulse in his neck before his face lowered into her line of sight.

“Die?” Harry finished, a deep, troubled divot between his brows. “He’s dead,” he said slowly. “Yeh’d rather be dead?”

Melody deflated beneath his stare, shaking her head.  “No,” she whispered.

“No,” he repeated. His fingers traced her cheekbone. “Yeh’re safe, love.”

“I don’t feel like it.”

The words felt like a wicked blow. It was merely weeks ago that she’d said differently. You make me feel safe, Harry. But he schooled his features and nodded curtly.

“Maybe yeh don’ feel like it yet, but yeh are.”

Melody shut her eyes, collecting herself. She felt Harry’s lips at her temple, but then his phone rang, loud and shrill, and both of them jumped. She wiped her lingering tears with the back of her wrist as Harry stepped back, glancing down at the screen. She met his pause with a frown.

“Who is it?”

Harry cleared his throat, flashing her a brief, vague look. “‘S my mum.”

Melody drew in a breath, nodding. “Answer it.” She waited for him to move, but he seemed frozen, still as a wax sculpture. “Harry,” she said, “answer the phone.”

He gave a sharp nod and then spun around, bringing the phone to his ear. Melody watched him move further down the hall, his voice a low murmur, and then she stepped back into the main area of the gym to offer him a modicum of privacy. His mitts lay abandoned on the floor. She pressed her shoulders into the wall and slid down to sit, stretching her legs out before her.

It seemed like only minutes had passed before Harry stepped around the corner. Melody glanced up at him, but he was staring across the room, his expression drawn, impassive. He slid down the wall beside her, settling on the floor, and threw his arms over his crooked-up knees.

“What’s wrong?” Melody asked. She reached for his hand when he didn’t respond, her heart pounding so hard that her chest ached. “Harry?”

“She’s in remission.”

Melody froze, her fingers partly intertwined with his. “What?”

He nodded, confirming that she’d heard him correctly.

“That’s great,” she said. She studied his profile—the hard set of his jaw, the troubling, cool stare. “That’s incredible. Why don’t you look happy?”

Harry let out a dry laugh, his fingers closing around Melody’s, still avoiding her eyes. “She called to tell me good news, and then we had to talk about how her son is dead.”

Melody licked her dry lips. She hadn’t even considered that Harry might not have spoken to his mother since everything had happened. And she certainly hadn’t thought about his mom’s heartache. She’d been consumed by her own fear and the lack of good sleep she’d been getting. And now she felt guilt gnaw at her.

“What did she say?” she whispered.

“Not much.” Harry’s jaw tightened. He reached up to rake a hand through his hair. “I don’ think she really has any words.”

As she watched him, Harry’s stone face cracked. It was small, just a rapid blink and a twitch of his mouth, and anyone else probably wouldn’t have noticed, but Melody reached for him. She turned her body, pressing a kiss to his cheek, sliding an arm around his neck and stroking his hair. Harry closed his eyes, effectively blocking out everyone around them.

“Just—‘m not upset that he’s gone. ‘M relieved.” He sighed, shivering at the tickle of Melody’s hair on his neck. “‘M so fuckin’ relieved. And that feels wrong when my mum has to grieve for him.”

A wave of frustrated anger swept through Melody. The same feeling that had her swinging mindlessly at Harry’s mitts. It wasn’t fair.

“It’s not wrong, Harry,” she said firmly. She pulled back enough to look at him, but his eyes remained closed. “He was her son but he wasn’t your brother. You experienced a different person from the one that she knew. You’re allowed to feel whatever you’re feeling, okay? But what you don’t need to feel is guilty.”

His eyes opened again. He watched the men in the boxing ring, one backing the other into a corner, a rapid duck as a fist swung, just missing its mark. He could feel Melody’s gaze.

“You never say anything back,” she muttered. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yeah.” Harry nodded. He turned to look at her. “Yeah, I do.”

Her deep frown softened, her brow relaxing. “Good,” she said.

“‘M not—” Harry’s gaze swept over the room once more. Melody watched his jaw shift. “I don’ wanna be here.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, drawing in a loud breath and climbing to her feet. “Let’s go.”

Harry pulled himself up to stand beside her, and together they collected their equipment, stuffing their gym bags, and trailed through the city back to Melody’s apartment.

#harry styles #harry styles writing #harry styles series #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles au #harry styles x ofc #boxer!harry #boxer!au #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles ferocity

[tanoraqui]

Hi! I see you posting all this stuff about the Queen's Thief series and it really looks like my type of literature, but I can't keep up with all the names and locations. Would it be okay to ask for a non-spoilery rundown of who, what, and where?

Hell yeah [at a delay]. So, most of the series takes place on the Attolian Peninsula, which comprises of 3 countries: Sounis, Eddis, and Attolia. There are also a scattering of small islands generally associated with the peninsula. Eddis is a narrow country in the mountains between Sounis and Attolia and only has, like, 1 small port; Sounis and Attolia both have substantial coastlines. All are monarchies. The basic geopolitical plot of the books is these three countries making peace with one another so that together they can hold off hte encroaching Mede Empire. 

It’s very low fantasy. Rifles and cannons exist, but they’re not that good yet; complex clockwork exists; steam engines do not. The Attolian Peninsua are heavily Ancient Greece-inspired, and the Mede are Persian-ish. Most importantly, there’s an entire made-up Greek-flavored mythology, as well as a Gilgamesh remix, stories of which are scattered through the books. Not only is this very neat, but the mythological figures often mirror the characters and are often vital to the plot. In fact, one of my favorite things about the series is how the whole thing feels very much like a myth in its own right, which some modern-day-in-that-world author has delved into and expanded on with fleshed-out characters and complex politics.

But you wanted a cast list. Most significant characters, in (probably) order of introduction, spoiler-free:

Eugenides, aka Gen, the central character of the series - though only the protagonist for the first couple books. Book and a half, really (the second is shared). Gen is a young progessional thief who is very good at calculating and carrying out complex and implausibly possible plans, and not always good at considering in advance consequences like “I will spend 6 months in jail” “I will have to move countries and take up a job I will hate”, “people might unironically admire and respect me, even though I don’t think I deserve it.” A wildly endearing manipulative asshole. Iconic quote: “I CAN DO ANYTHING I WANT!”

the Magus (never named), a chief advisor to the King of Sounis. Canny old soldier-turned-scholar/politician who is the first person to hold a braincell re: “we need to unite or die.” Iconic quote: “I meant convince your queen to sue for peace, not burn our navy in its own harbor!”

Sophos, later Sounis*, the Nicest Young Man to ever be a Nice Young Man. Sweet muffin. Canonical bunny. Also canonical mankiller. Iconic line: “Not on the first vote.”

Attolia* Irene, Queen of Attolia. Her people love her and fear her; her barons, for the most part, just fear her; she kicks and screams (non-literally) and throws inkpots (literally), but she does relearn how to both be loved and give love in return.  Iconic line [narration]: And she believed him.

Eddis* Helen, Queen of Eddis. There’s a mild running joke over the course of the series of mentioning that there’s nothing to do during Eddisian winters but [X], the 3 things mentioned are weapons training, threadcraft, and seducing one another’s spouses. The only one Eddis is suggested to be good at is weapons, but she’s the beloved and (almost entirely) undisputed queen of her country anyway. Iconic quote: “War, then.”

Nahuseresh, Medean ambassador, a mansplainer but competent as sneakily taking over someone else’s country while pretending to help them. More or less. Does not get an iconic line bc fuck him.

Kamet, later called Kamet Kingnamer, Nahuseresh’s slave and personal secretary. Nearsighted, translates poetry for fun, does NOT want to go on a multi-month (b)romance-building roadtrip. Does not have much choice in the matter, because he wants to be free and, more importantly, to survive. Iconic line [narration]: I noticed that a man on the dock with a duffel on one shoulder was very like Costis in poise and gait. The man turned onto the gangplank to board the ship, and my heart lifted, though I tried to squash what I thought was a ridiculous hope.**

 Costis Ormentides, a lieutenant in the Attolian palace guard. Not remotely prepared for the political snakepit he’s thrown into through very little fault of his own, oh god this poor man, he just wants to serve his queen and have a little spare money to go out for wine with friends. Why are people trying to kill him. Why is he third wheeling his monarchs making out in the courtyard. Why is he being passive-aggressively forced to learn a foreign language.  Iconic line action: *punches the king in the face*

Pheris Mostrus Erondites, second grandson of Baron Erondites of Attolia; historian and narrator of the last book in the series. Severely physically disabled, purposefully overlooked for all his life until particularly bitchy politics had him sent to the Attolian royal court (purposely on his part and on everyone else’s), very observant and twice as clever. Writes humanity beautifully. Iconic line [narration]: If I cannot record exactly what words were spoken at every moment, I can say with confidence what those words might have been, and in some cases what they must as been, as I saw what resulted from them being spoken, and can we not derive the words when we know the consequences of their utterance? *proceeds to write a historical account/novel more full of small moments of personhood and love both dramatic and casual than almost the rest of the series combined*

Relius, Attolian Master of the Archives (spymaster), trusted first within reason and then beyond it. Has many, many lovers.***

Teleus, Attolian Captain of the Palace Guard, A bit staid, but loyal, reliable, and entirely excellent at his job. Has only one lover.***

the Eddisian Minister of War, unnamed until the very end, fights with his youngest son a great deal in multiple senses of the word. 

* It’s possible that some of your confusion may stem from people taking the names of their countries as titles upon ascending to the thrones. ** Yes I chose this quote bc it’s sweet but also bc it’s SUCH a nearsighted mood. *** Direct quotes from the character list at the end of the last book.

#queen's thief #random anon asks #queen's thief series #Anonymous

[thewickeddevil]

A Study In Jean Moreau

(tw: mentions of Jean's past, violence, mental health and suicidal thoughts/intention to die. let me know if there's something else)

ok, so, i say all the time that Jean Moreau is my favorite and comfort character in All For The Game (i know. it literally hurts but also brings me joy sometimes) and i would literally kill for that man. so, that said, i think too much about him and, consequently, i have too many hcs about him. on request, i will now do what i'm gonna call A Study In Jean Moreau

(my beta reader and best friend helped me a lot with this. thanks @jostenrun)

i'll start with this quote from one of my kerejean fics (https://archiveofourown.org/works/26146540)

During Jean's first four months at USC and playing with the Trojans, he would always ignore Jeremy and put a frown on his face whenever he was in the same place as him. It obviously wasn't the best of strategies to put distance between himself and all the Jeremy glow, but it looked exactly bad enough to work.

Still, Jeremy was all pompous and charming looks at him, always smiling and being polite even though he received much less in return. It pissed the shit out of Jean.

He was used by the Ravens for many years, treated exactly like the exchange item he had been, just possession and obliged to follow lines and lines of rules too strict even for how he should breathe.

Riko was violent, the Ravens were cruel, the Moriyama family was wrong and he needed to repeat this to himself on a daily basis to be able to just keep going.

Back at the beginning of those days, many times he would fight back until he was taught that it was only worse. Many times he would beg until he realized that it encouraged Riko more than it prevented him. Many times he would cry until he was taught that it was wrong.

He would often bleed.

He would often wish to bleed until there was nothing left in his veins, no thoughts in his brain, no air in his lungs, no words on the tip of his tongue—

And he would often try to do just that on his own.

That was his daily life for a long time. Evermore was what he knew, the Moriyama family was who he belonged to and all of that was for what he served. That was it.

How was he supposed to know back then that suddenly overly nice twenty-eight other people would replace all of that with magnificence?

How was he supposed to know that they wouldn't look at him with disgust whenever he accidentally let a curse in French slip away?

How was he supposed to know that the Trojans had complete freedom within the team, instead of having to walk in pairs like the Ravens?

How was he supposed to know that Jeremy wasn't going to hit him whenever he made a mistake?

Or how would he know that Jeremy never considered anything that he made a mistake?

It was all a very big break from reality and so, so suddenly. Jean felt confused at first. Lost, wrong, out of place, stupid and scared.

And Jeremy was always determined to be the best he could be. Jeremy was safe.

Until Jean felt comfortable, confident, fine, and satisfied. He was someone instead of something and he really felt like that.

i think Jean would take years to relearn how to live instead of surviving. sometimes he would fail at that, but so many failures can only lead to success eventually.

he really didn't want to keep playing exy after everything, he doesn't think exy is good at all and trauma made him hate it, but he needs it because of the deal with Ichirou. fortunately, the Trojans are a team big enough to put him in the background for a while, to give him a little rest. but he knows he can't relax too much

he starts therapy. he needs it badly and it takes time for him to really be able to do it, but Jean was never anything but strong, and when he sees the chance to finally heal he knows that, despite how tired he is, despite how many times he wonders if it's worth it to keep going, he needs to grab that and at least try. just one more time. he never wanted to work for anything in his life because nothing was important before, but now he thinks that maybe things are changing

the Trojans get a dorm exclusively for him at first, because they don't want Jean to force himself to share space with someone he doesn't know and still doesn't trust. they want Jean to have his own space and feel safe before anything. he needs that solitude and he knows that it doesn't mean loneliness because his team will always be just a call away from him

he relapses sometimes. days without taking basic care of himself and without getting up from bed, and he no longer remembers whether he’s alive or not. sometimes he's able to call his therapist when that happens, but sometimes he isn't

this is how he gets into the habit of learning poetry. and eventually, writing poetry. he needs a coping mechanism and words seem to be safe enough to float around in his mind and make space in his core

(French poetry that Kevin always dissects for him and tells about the history behind the period in which those texts were written, or about the authors of each text)

the process is slow but it’s progress nonetheless

so, we know about therapy, about not being easy, about difficulties and things happening slowly during the healing process, now let's talk about the little details when things finally start to work out positively. when the best part of Jean's life finally begins

he finds out that his eyesight isn't bad only because of the beatings he took in the nest, and finds it ridiculous when Jeremy offers to help him buy glasses because, according to him, all the glasses Jean likes make him look like a middle-aged man that curses people for fun. Jean doesn't hate it though

Jean learns how to swim and likes it more than he thought he would. he likes the fluidity and movements of the liquid around his skin, how he cuts the water with his body when moving around and how it doesn't hurt him, and he just feels light

Jean likes nutella and chocolate with nuts, because Jeremy used to give it to him after nightmares or difficult days, and it became a comfort food for him (something he wasn’t even allowed to eat in the nest)

Jean's musical taste is a big mess of R&B, soul, pop art, folk, dark pop... he likes artists like Lorde, Aurora, Marina, Sigrid, Sleeping at last and the list goes on

Before he left France, Jean's family had a farm and he was responsible for harvesting fruits and vegetables there. this is one of the last memories he has about France, so he likes to harvest fruits and vegetables whenever he has the chance in the US

Jean loves to read fantasy books. he is a hufflepuff and part of cabin 6 in camp half-blood (children of Athena)

he likes geography. pedology, topography and weather are his favorites. he likes to look at the sky and know how to name climatic phenomena regardless of where in the world he is

(he also likes history and sociology, but only because he can hear Kevin and Jeremy — respectively — talking for hours and hours about those two subjects)

he hates biology

he absolutely hates croissants, tea and coffee. in the morning he always drinks juice or chocolate milk (the latter is Jeremy's fault)

the first time he willingly got wasted on alcohol, he, Sarah and Laila woke Jeremy up in the wee hours of the night while singing in Spanish (Jean barely knows Spanish). he passed out after that and woke up the next day in his room. his first thought was that he was fine even though he lost control of himself around other people, and he cried because of that. Jeremy was concerned because he thought he was crying from a headache or something related to a hangover

Jean can never find shoes his size in conventional stores because he's very big (fucking tall, muscular but not too much, with large shoulders and hips, and eventually a tummy) and, consequently, his feet are also big. he needs to have it personalized and he completely hates it

he loves dogs but is easily scared by them. he couldn't get out of the dorms for almost an entire day after Jeremy's mom's dog barked too loud and it scared Jean. he felt guilty and didn't want people to be mad at him for being so scared of a simple dog

he loves cats though, and after some time into therapy, he adopted a service cat. Kevin and Jeremy always joke about it looking like a replica of Jean himself

Jean doesn't understand the purpose of MMA competitions, because he doesn't like violence and thinks martial arts should be only for self-defense, so he doesn't really understand why people choose to compete over something so aggressive

he also doesn't like the violence in exy, but he forgives because, at least, violence is not the main goal of the sport, but to score points

he learns to draw and starts to open art commissions on the internet. this is his first job and he's proud of it because it was something he achieved by himself

Jean and Jeremy fell in love on the beach

Kevin and Jean take time to forgive each other, especially Jean. the broken heart Kevin left in Jean hurt more than being abandoned by his parents. he suffered from it for years but he didn't really want to blame Kevin. he also knew Riko, after all. he knew how capable of driving someone insane Riko was. it didn't make things easier or less painful though. Kevin and Jean took time, but they never loved each other less

Kevin and Jean fell in love for the second time (the time they could, the time they were allowed) after one of the matches in which their teams were rivals

Jean is very picky for food consistency, and he hates ketchup and mayonnaise for that. he insists all the time that if people knew how to season the food well, they wouldn't need those condiments

(he secretly loves Dijon Mustard though)

Jean was born on 08/31. he’s a virgo

plushies are the first resource that Jean uses when he feels alone but is unable to be around anyone at the moment, so he unconsciously starts making a collection of them. they're all small, except for two that Kevin and Jeremy gave him and are, respectively, a fox and a red and gold trojan. he eventually distributes his plushies to children in local orphanages but keeps those two to himself out of sheer emotional attachment

he doesn't stop suffering because of his trauma throughout his life, but he learns to deal with it. that's the point of everything. he never thinks he will magically forget or get over it, but now he is in a different place in his life and he can start working his way to be the best version of himself he can. he doesn't fool himself into thinking it will be easy and fast, he never thought it would be less difficult than it really was, but he takes things slowly and carefully and hopes it works

his entire healing process is too complex and extensive to explain everything here, but i did the best i could and now i really need to stop because i could stay here ranting for days. xx

#Jean Moreau #all for the game #aftg #the foxhole court #the raven king #the king's men #Jeremy Knox #Kevin Day #USC Trojans #Healing #i love him too much for my own good #this man deserves the whole world and i'll stand for that #Kerejean #Jerejean #Kevjean

[akuzonprime]

how do you get inspiration for these omg like the ones you make just fit???? do you have like certain scenarios or headcanons for each of the boys or is it just a random thing??

The ideas just come and go as I go through my day HAHAH at the most random times honestly. As for the character assignments... issa struggle. Sometimes, I know who I’m thinking about in a flash, sometimes the character is the first thing in the blurb, and other times I’m constantly changing who it is while they sit in my drafts HAHA. It’s a trial and error kind of thing while I try to picture the scene in my head, like “who’s most likely to say/do this?” It’s like a test of dynamics and prompts, if that makes sense? That being said, yeah, I do have a certain image of them in my head, which directly translates to the ones I paint in my posts. hmmmm for me they’re like this:

To start it off, Lucifer is subtle, all hidden smiles and stolen moments. His feelings are quiet, but they’re free flowing. It’s like slow dancing in the living room at midnight or sweet lullabies. There’s a lot of fondness here, and a bit of craving on his side.

Mammon is the sweetheart here (next to Beel) and is 200% bitten by the love bug. He’s in a constant honeymoon phase! It’s always playful and fun, which is why he doesn’t have angst content yet

Ah, and best friends to lovers? That’s my trope for Levi HAHA. It’s overdone, but it fits so well! I like to see him as this long-time high school boyfriend; it’s familiar and comfortable. I wouldn’t really say that the relationship is entirely innocent, but it’s leaning towards the soft vibes.

People would think that I should write angst for Satan since he’s my fave brother, but that’s exactly why I can’t do it. I’m definitely biased in this sense hahaha. Look, he can’t grasp his emotions, can’t figure them out, so when you come along and make him feel all these things in just one year? Bruh. It’s like that magical first love we read in stories and wish it came true for us or am I the only one who thought that idk w yall HAHA

When it comes to Asmo, it’s always tender and loving. I want to make it seem like he’s still relearning love while he’s with you, that sensation always pulling at your heartstrings. Compared to Satan, it’s more on the volatile and fragile over here, hence the angst

Beel is like Levi and Mammon, leaning more to the fluff and softness, but the former has occasional angst content. He’s got his moments of insecurity and fear, but most days he just wants to be with you, no matter what either of you are doing. He’s this big ol’ soft boi that just wants cuddles

For Belphie, hmmm, I try to make him cautious and wary, unsure about things while simultaneously being certain of his own feelings for you. He’s in conflict, but doesn’t want to lose you, so he’s kind of vulnerable and doubtful, but he’s trying

Oh, yes, dear Solomon. He’s got more angst than fluff. I like pairing him with the soulmates or lost lover tropes. He’s been around for a while, but he’s still human - he’s lonely. He could have all the riches and wonders of the world, but he can still lose you, if he hasn’t already. That kinda thing. Or he’s that chaotic neutral funny boyfriend you just mess around with.

Contrary to popular belief, Simeon is one of my favorite characters. The angst potential in this relationship! He’s an angel; he deadass saw what happened the last time one of them fell in love with a human. So if and when he catches feelings for you, and realizes it? Oh my, oh my. He’s at a push-and-pull conflict with himself between wanting and running.

Haha so, it will NEVER be romantic for Luke. Other than being the little brother type, I like seeing him as the naive person who’s learning the ways of the world firsthand. If I could write more, I’d have a full-on story of him questioning all his values and morals as he stays longer and befriends the demons lmao fun

Ah, Barb! I love torturing him with angst. He’s always one step behind, whether on purpose or not. He’s restrained, always pining for you. He overthinks so much that when he FINALLY indulges himself in you, he loses all reign of control. It’s why he can’t move on in my posts haha

Diavolo... I rarely write him as I don’t have a good grasp on what I think of him yet. So far in what I’ve written, he’s always stolen MC from the others HAHAHA Dia stans send help please

#DAMN I WENT OFF I AM SO SORRY THAT IT'S LONG HHAHAHA #ok hold on before someone comes for my head - the list above is jus what I PERSONALLY think and what I want to put out #asks #writing tings

[i-love-ninjago-kai]

Wait a sec while I ask you this-

So, your Kailor analysis was amazing (I don’t really ship it, but it was still awesome!) - so I was wondering if you could do a second part to it? Like, what the other ninja think about it - I know you’ve already mentioned that they just want them to kiss already, but would you mind going into a bit of depth on that? Like, do they try to set up dates or something (cough cough Lloyd ‘n’ Nya-). Thankyou so much!

- Submitted by @chaoscat211 -

Hi Friend, thank you so much! Sure thing :) 

This is long so I’ll eventually cut it off under a read more.

Yeah so… The ninja know Kai and Skylor have hang-ups, like, a lot. They’re complicated people, and it’s really really hard for the team to get the two to express how they’re really truly feeling.

If Kai is really really bothered by something, he closes up like a clam and even if he opens up for a second, his shell will snap closed again and you’ll end up with a broken finger.

Skylor is just… Hard to read, she’s spent her entire life putting up a front, and when she wants to hide what she’s feeling, she will do it with such practiced ease it’s like breathing for her. The only person who’s ever been able to truly, really see through it is, well… Kai.

But wow, it is so, so obvious how much they love each other, and it drives the team absolutely crazy. The way they say each other’s names like it’s a part of them, the admiration-filled glances when she visits for dinner, the way they flirt and sass each other with nothing more than a smirk and sometimes a chuckle.

And it’s not even that they just “make each other happy,” because that’s not all that a relationship is. They bring out something amazing in each other, and the team can see it. Kai opens up to her  in a way that he never has with them, Skylor shows another side besides the well trained, flirtatious cool persona that’s been beaten into her. 

They work together as if they have for decades. Fighting together is like a dance, it’s almost beautiful to watch them act as partners.

So it is even more frustrating to watch them hang back from truly going all in and just kissing already, just because they both had bad childhoods and don’t know how to deal with their problems. At least, that’s how Jay sees it.

He made a direct approach when he wanted to express his love to Nya, he asked her on a date, easy. Granted his low confidence did make him try to… Be anyone BUT Jay, but still, Nya knew he liked her.  AND GRANTED they ALSO did a dance in order REALLY be together, but that was more because outside forces were keeping them from truly being able to be together.

Skylor and Kai are just scared, which is stupid because Jay knows they’re absolutely smitten. He doesn’t know why Kai makes himself miserable by not making a move. Although he seems to have a habit of making himself miserable on purpose. 

He does what he does best, he teases and annoys Kai with whatever innuendo he can. EVENTUALLY one will work and Kai will get up the freaking nerve to sweep Skylor off her feet. He’s willing to be a martyr and take Kai’s (slightly terrifying) glares and threats if it means it’ll work. (It won’t)

Lloyd is young, and until recently, didn’t really understand the value of a romantic partner, and his experience with it so far has been less than savory. Even still, Lloyd likes Skylor, she’s smart and very good for Kai. Of course.. He hadn’t realized that the loving insults and nicknames they give each other was flirting until like, last week. So now whenever he hears them do it, his face turns red and he has to politely excuse himself. 

At least Nya and Jay, or Pixal and Zane know a thing or two about PDA. Skylor and Kai aren’t even dating and they look like they’re about to pounce on each other all the time.

Nya… Nya doesn’t know how she feels. On one hand she does really like Skylor,  their bond was strengthened during the time when she thought the ninja were dead, and it was good to have another girl who had lost someone she loved too. They had an understanding, and although she’s never said it out loud, Nya knows Skylor is absolutely in love with Kai.

And she knows how much Kai loves her, he’s never looked at anyone the way he looks at her. And oh my fsm, he has someone that he actually likes outside of the team and her, he really really needs that. Not only does he like her, he actually talks to her, holy crap, he opens up to her. He’s never done that with anyone.

Not even her. Not fully. I mean sure, she’s his sister, and he tells her mostly everything, but he’s also the one who raised her, and she knows that comes with a lot of secrets. She spied on him stressing over not having enough money for this month’s electric bill, in the middle of the night, only to give her lunch money the next day enough times to know that he doesn’t tell her everything that’s going on in his head.

And in a way, that scares her, because Kai has always been hers. The one constant in her life has always been Kai, and to think that soon enough… She won’t be his favorite girl anymore, soon enough Skylor will be the one who can read him from across a room, comfort him and calm him down. Soon enough it will be Skylor, and not her.

Which is terrifying. Don’t get confused… Nya doesn’t need Kai, not in a survival sense, she’s perfectly capable of functioning if he’s away. But… Kai has always been there, always, in her life of constant fluctuation and many many heartbreaks, Kai has always been there to catch her when she’s falling, always there to pull her out of the water when she’s drowning. 

And she won’t consider the possibility of him dying, nope, that’s too far, but the possibility that she’s not the center of his world anymore, and in a more childish sense, that he’s not going to be there to protect her every waking moment. It’s scary, and it sparks some jealousy in her.

Which makes her feel terrible. She doesn’t like the icky feeling that claws for attention when Kai comforts Skylor after a hard day at the restaurant, or when his first thought after a mission is to call her, instead of making dinner with Nya.

Because Kai isn’t hers, Kai never was hers. Her relationship is different. Kai may be Skylor’s, but Kai was never Nya’s. She rationalizes it and says that she feels this way because she wants to protect him. Nya knows that she’d never hurt Kai, but she can’t speak for Skylor, and she doesn’t want anyone to hurt Kai. He’s had enough pain, enough hardship for an entire lifetime, wrapped up into 19 years.

It’s just not what’s supposed to happen. He’s fought to hard to be hurt now.

So she’s torn. Because she absolutely wants them to be together, she wants them to make out and have all their cheesy romcom moments. But she’s scared she’s losing her brother, too, and she’s always had her brother to hold onto her.

Cole has tried many, many times to talk to Kai about Skylor. Cole is the oldest, and while Kai is the closest to him in age, they’re not in the same place. At least not in that area. Cole can see what good this would do for Kai. The way Kai is beaming and joyful in a way that he never is when he comes home from visiting Skylor proves that.

And Kai is usually nice to talk to, he’s mature where he needs to be and a good listener. Unless you try and get him to talk about his problems. Cole has never seen anyone’s expression darken and close up so quickly, and he’s seen people corrupted with evil before his very eyes.

It usually ends with Kai just making the excuse that he’s tired, since their long chats are almost always late at night. Otherwise he just shakes his head and leaves.

It would be rude if it came from anyone other than Kai. When it comes from Kai, it just makes Cole sad for him. Cole hasn’t had it easy, not at all. He’s died twice and he is not excited to make it three, but Cole at least knows when he needs to talk to someone. His mother taught him that, if he’s ever struggling, bottling is the worst thing he can do. And in his experience, she was right, so he tries to be honest about where he is with his friends, and it’s freeing.

But  this team is full of bottlers, and Kai is the worst of them. 

Zane… Zane isn’t really worried about it. He’s an android, and he’s got longevity, so he doesn’t really see the point in everyone being so frustrated with the unofficial couple. Things will work out.. In time. Kai and Skylor are not even whole themselves yet, how can they come together as an effective new body if they don’t even know themselves?

Zane had to relearn how to be independent, having becoming dependent on Pixal for support. Which, isn’t a complete problem, there’s nothing wrong with depending on people, that’s what a team is, but when you start taking more than you are giving, then  it becomes a problem.

So the two need to grow themselves a little more… And fsm knows Kai is afraid to grow.

This is uber duber long, so I’ll cut it here. Sorry for rambling!!! I hope this is close to what you wanted :) Thank you again sweetie!

#ninjago #ninjago kailor #ninjago kai #ninjago skylor #ninjago jay #ninjago zane #ninjago cole #ninjago lloyd #ninjago nya #ninjago pixal #submission

[officially-dumb]

Why All Might Should Live

I have seen a lot of theories on All Might’s possible death, and while I don’t really know if he’ll survive to the end of the story or not, I do very strongly feel like his death would go against the character arc he’s had so far.

The Symbol of Peace ends at Kamino Ward. But All Might and Yagi Toshinori continue on. I think it’s important to separate these three identities, because while All Might's identity as an omnipotent god dies at Kamino Ward, he’s still a hero to many, including Izuku and the rest of Class 1-A. The loss of his power doesn’t stop him from being a hero, even if Toshinori feels like it does. And even more importantly, the end of the Symbol is the beginning of Toshinori relearning how to be a person instead of a symbol.

Kamino Ward could’ve ended with All Might’s death. All Might himself even accepts this as a possibility years beforehand, and originally doesn’t see anything wrong with being so unconcerned about his own demise, so long as he accomplishes his goal of defeating AFO.

Instead, the story subverts this. All Might doesn’t die, leaving behind a grieving successor like Nana did. Instead, Toshinori lives, and has to face his greatest fear: watching what happens to the society he helped build in the absence of their Symbol.

All Might gave up the things that made him human to become the Symbol of Peace, and this is, in my opinion, the biggest tragedy of his character. The Symbol of Peace can’t have any weaknesses. When Nighteye’s concern for him becomes an obstacle to his goals, he ends their relationship pretty ruthlessly.

In one way, this is a very selfless decision. All Might is willing to stand completely alone if it means he can protect the world and make the people in it feel safe. But in the narrative of the story, we don’t see this decision as selfless. Instead, we see the pain that he caused Nighteye by doing this. 

Their relationship remains broken for years, and they only reconcile on Nighteye’s deathbed. Still, it’s clear that his former sidekick never bore Toshinori any ill will over this. Even years later, Nighteye’s goal was still helping All Might survive (it’s why he’s so angry over Toshinori passing OFA on to Izuku instead of a more prepared student!). Not because the world needed a Symbol, but because Nighteye cared about him. To Nighteye, Toshinori’s worth isn’t dependent on his ability to protect others.

Once All Might loses OFA, he has to start depending on others to protect him. This is an adjustment for Toshinori, who in all likelihood hasn’t been “protected” since Nana died fighting AFO. You can see how lost he looks when he realizes his own powerlessness.

Of course, AFO recognizes this insecurity in him. All Might sacrificed so much of himself to build an era of peace, a time where crime rates are low and most people feel safe, but he no longer has the power to maintain that peace himself. He’s forced to entrust it to others, something he resisted doing before.

All Might’s dream was a noble one, but it was never something sustainable, too dependent on one person holding up an entire country on their own. Now he has to watch everything he worked so hard to build start to collapse around him.

After All Might loses his quirk, he loses his original purpose as the Symbol of Peace. As difficult as the events of Kamino Ward were to deal with, AFO’s words about not raising his successor properly stuck with All Might. Since Toshinori can’t be a hero in the traditional sense anymore, he decides to focus on training Izuku to replace him.

There are definitely issues with his, since it’s clear Toshinori has lost a lot of self-worth with his quirk, but this moment is the real beginning of his character arc, as it’s the first time he has a purpose as a person instead of a Symbol.

When he tries to convince Inko to let Midoriya stay in the dorms and continue at UA, Toshinori is only thinking about what he can sacrifice for Izuku, instead of what will actually make him happy. His self-worth is still very much dependent on his ability to protect others. He doesn’t think about the negative effect his death would have on Izuku.

Inko, thankfully, points this out quickly, stating how All Might being alive to raise Izuku into a hero would be far more helpful than sacrificing himself for him. All Might being alive makes Izuku happy; if Toshinori cares about his successor’s well-being, he shouldn’t be so quick to throw his life away. She asks him to live for Izuku in the same way that Izuku lives for him.

All of this character development culminates in this moment between Aizawa and All Might. All Might cannot be a Symbol without his power, but he still has worth. He can still provide people with strength and inspiration, just by being alive. He still has things to offer the world, even if he no longer has the power to protect it himself. 

Aizawa telling Toshinori that he is allowed to live as a person, that he is allowed to live in the world even if he no longer has the power to protect it is powerful, because Toshinori still doesn’t feel worthy of living if he can’t be the Symbol of Peace.

This is the end of All Might’s meeting with AFO. It’s a far cry from the scene in the hospital post-Kamino, where we saw him claim he was going to find and reach out to Shigaraki. It’s also a big change from the All Might who accepted Nighteye’s prediction of his death. 

The most common theory I’ve seen lately is built around the idea that not trying to find Shigaraki was the wrong thing to do, and that he should make up for it now by reaching out, even though Shigaraki will definitely kill him if he meets him.

While I do get the appeal of All Might dying while reaching out to Shigaraki, I also question why a character whose arc is centered around him finding a will to live beyond being a hero should take on a mission that would undoubtedly end in his death. To me, that would oppose all of the character development we’ve seen from Toshinori. Would dying for Shigaraki be more important than living for Izuku and the other students? So far, I feel like the story has pointed towards no as the answer.

#bnha #mha #all might #meta #bnha meta #all might meta #mha meta #yagi toshinori

[bimbonaparte]

so as i am avoiding work and wandering around random spn sideblogs i stumble on one that criticizes my beloved “cas is claire’s yellow-eyed demon” hot take.... and while i do not want to call anyone out i do want to spend some more time playing with the arguments & implications here, because overthinking things is fun for me:

so let’s start with the idea that jimmy consented to cas possessing him. Jimmy may have truly said yes the first time around, but it is CRYSTAL CLEAR in 4x20 that a) he regrets it, didn’t understand what he was saying ‘yes’ to, and would have taken it back if he could, and b) when he says yes the second time, it is the last thing he wants and he’s only doing it to save his ten-year-old daughter from what he sees as a terrible fate. that is not consent, by any definition of the word. that is coercion.

mary and jimmy were ultimately given the same choice: say yes to something you do not want, or sacrifice a loved one. Mary knows that making a deal with azazel is going to have horrifying consequences, but she does it to save john. jimmy knows that saying yes to castiel means he’ll never see his family again, but he does it to save claire. Both Cas and Azazel created situations where these were the only options. (cas didn’t do it on purpose, but like... if you are a child and watch this go down in front of you that distinction really does not matter)

the analogy gets a little fuzzier when we get to john and amelia, because ultimately john stuck around to emotionally warp sam & dean and amelia abandoned claire and took off. at the end of the day, though, all three kids effectively lost BOTH parents in one fell swoop, and all three of their childhoods were stolen by a crusade against the supernatural, so like. strong parallels there.

the idea that claire shouldn’t blame cas for how her life turned out post-4x20 is crazy to me, though. he ran off with her dad’s body!!!! even if amelia had chosen to stick around after that & nothing else had gone wrong, taking a ten-year-old girl’s dad away from her is grounds for her to hate you for life!!! (i’m not even touching on the implications of cas possessing her (!!!) and then essentially using her as leverage to convince her dad to sacrifice himself, we know he was freshly brainwashed from some heaven torture but claire and amelia do not)

castiel is not responsible for amelia’s decision to abandon claire, just like azazel is not responsible for john’s decision to turn his kids into child soldiers. both amelia and john could have done something else with their grief. BUT. cas and azazel ARE responsible for causing that grief in the first place! they are directly to blame for the loss of mary/jimmy; from a bereaved child’s perspective, they are also to blame for everything that came after (not least because it’s hard to fully recognize the faults of your one surviving parent after a trauma like that; see dean/john’s entire relationship for reference. also it’s hard to get mad at mary/jimmy for saying ‘yes’ because they are dead. so all that rage and pain has to go somewhere else).

here is a question that i bet claire has: what if jimmy hadn’t died in 4x22? would it ever have occurred to castiel to leave his vessel and give her back her father? given that he didn’t think to check in on the novaks for 6+ years, signs kinda point to ‘no’

one more wager: we know sam & dean fantasize about what their lives would have looked like with no yellow-eyed demon, in a world where they get to grow up “normal”; i bet claire does the same thing with castiel

Basically my thesis is that from ages 10-17, Castiel lives in Claire’s mind -- like Azazel does in Sam & Dean’s -- as the monster that burned her picture-perfect life to the ground. But she doesn’t get the chance to funnel her anger & need for revenge into saving people, hunting things, or family, so instead she just grows up furious and alone. Can you imagine the incredible amount of rage she must feel when they swan back in after all these years to tell her they’re sorry??

(Actually, I don’t know if Sam & Dean ever do say sorry to her, which is kind of worse in its way -- Cas has the excuse of not being human, but they are both well aware of what losing a parent does to a kid and it also doesn’t occur to them to think about the novaks after 4x20. what the heck, guys.)

All this to say: I love Claire! I love the complicated mess of feelings she has for Castiel & Sam & Dean! I love that her journey parallels Sam & Dean’s so closely but ends in forgiveness instead of revenge!!! i love the idea of deconstructing the boogeyman of your childhood and relearning him as a person you can love!!! I love found family!! Jody “i will mom you whether you like it or not” Mills 4 lyfe!!  but to me, there’s just so much trauma and anger and pain and lost time between claire & cas... i just don’t think the show did her character any favors when it glossed over all of that and had her forgive him for everything so incredibly quickly. i can accept that claire grows to have affection for him, and that she gradually categorizes him & sam & dean as her weird uncles. but after everything???? that late in the game???? “dad” is not on the table.

#obviously your mileage may vary here #but to me it is legitimately MORE FUN to work through claire and castiel's relationship through the lens of how bad he fucked up her life #and really dig into how that trauma shaped her (plus the parallels with sam & dean!) #than it is to put a rubber stamp labeled 'DAD' on their relationship #this is supernatural after all #it is alllllllll about the angst lol #castiel is claire's yellow-eyed demon #and i will die on this hill... apparently #final thought is that i think all of this could have gone differently if cas had shown up a year later instead of 7 years later #also if you are the person whose blog post i am responding to SORRY #i do not want to put you on blast but i just started thinking about things and then ended up writing them all down #is this vagueblogging? i think this might be vagueblogging #spn #meta #spn meta #i can't believe it is the year of our lord 2021 and i just wrote a fucking spn meta post #who am i what is happening #castiel #claire #claire novak #jimmy novak

[autumnslance]

The Seedseer’s Privilege

Rather than continue to hijack the Foulques post I reblogged earlier, I've been thinking about the deserved criticism of Gridania's racism and treatment of Keepers and Duskwights, and the split between Kan-E-Senna's personality and actions in canon versus the nation she leads. Go back over the comments, tags, and reblogs on that post for more details, but that’s the gist: Kan-E’s presentation as a kind, caring, competent leader, so wholly at odds with the nastiness we see running around Gridania and the Shroud, and how can she possibly allow such things, and why is it never addressed in the story?

More and more I come to the feeling that Kan-E has that unaware blindspot of just how bad it is for the minorities in her nation, in that way many well-meaning yet social-issues-ignorant privileged people do.

This post uses real world societal comparisons for literary criticism purposes; I am absolutely not going to debate my personal views on privilege, racism, real politicians, or other social politics with anyone on my FFXIV blog, so don’t bother. Stick to the media presentation and discussion. If you cannot understand the distinction, perhaps skip this one.

Kan-E strikes me like the American white kids who learn of slavery and Jim Crow and the Civil Rights Movement as History, things that happened Long Ago, but now, of course, we have prominent BIPOC actors and journalists and politicians so we totally have diversity and representation and Things Are Just Fine Now, right? And why do people keep going on about racism and inequality “OMG get over it" and "stop living in the past" and "making a big deal over little things" meanwhile little kids and sleeping women get murdered for the color of their skin.

I grew up in the same area as the Carlisle Indian School--my dad's then-workplace was mere miles from it when I think about it--and I didn't even know it existed or that those were things we did to people until a college class in Kansas in my 20s. I was never shown, never taught, had no idea or understanding (which was a big reason for selecting the social and literature classes to fill requirements that I did, because I had become aware of my lack of knowledge; not everyone does, or chooses to try to do something about it, and I’m still learning and often mucking it up along the way).

I can see Kan-E and the other Seedseers having such a narrow education--heck, they were raised in isolation in the woods to focus and hone their padjal gifts and connections to the Elementals--that they honestly have no real idea how terrible things are for anyone not a Midlander or Wildwood. It just doesn't occur to them and they cannot process it and it doesn’t get brought up as more than an abstract concept, if at all.

And I have the feeling while it's not entirely intentional on the writers' parts, it works rather too well for exactly the same reasons. How many of them are aware of everything that goes on with the Ainu and other minorities in their own nation, as anything other than an abstract concept if it doesn’t affect them directly? Or the white Americans they have on staff who write and alter the translated version of Gridania we see? How much of the fictional disconnect between this kind woman’s actions versus the nation she leads is due to the real world disconnect so many of us aren’t even aware we live with, even as we try to write or roleplay “true to life” without examining how and why some things are the way they are? How many people automatically add bigotry to their writing just because “well it exists in reality so if I want my setting to be realistic…” without really examining if it’s necessary in a fantasy world with the characters they’ve created to populate it?

It’s how I can see Kan-E as the kind, compassionate, well-meaning person she is presented as in canon, while I also see the crap going on right under her nose and being infuriated by it and wanting to shake her. Cuz Kan-E is me and every other white kid who is insulated from how things actually are, and it can take years and forcible confrontation to grasp even a fraction of the injustice around us. How it can become, if one chooses, a lifelong effort to unlearn and relearn that privileged viewpoint and thinking, and the inherent racism one’s raised with in our modern society. And this absolutely extends to people in leadership roles—just look at our own politicians, and the instances of unintentional bigotry by even the more forward-thinking at times (Elizabeth Warren’s apologies for Native heritage issues once she was informed and educated comes to mind).

In case it’s not obvious, I do believe this is yet another way FFXIV, like a lot of good SciFi/Fantasy, is “political” in that way of shining a light on real world issues through the metaphor of characters and societies who reflect problems and actual circumstances in our real world.

And I think a lot of us are so terribly uncomfortable with Gridania because it comes so close to home, and none of us like looking in that particular mirror and feeling just as helpless as it can often seem in reality to see these things and not have the means to change them despite genuine desire and effort, as I write this while living in Texas in the summer of 2020.

#Final Fantasy XIV #Discourse #Gridania #Kan-E-Senna #bigotry #literary criticism