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fieldofdaisiies · 5 months

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gwyn x balthazar | 2,7k words | warnings: none | masterlist

"Balthazar!"

The young Illyrian turns on his heels, hearing someone —a female— shout his name. His alarm bells are immediately on high alert, his gaze searching for any imminent danger. But there is none, only Emerie heading for him. She seems a bit out of breath, a thin film of sweat coating her face.

"Balthazar," she breathes out when she reaches him, bending slightly at the waist when she sucks in another breath. She exhales loudly, brings a hand up, brushes it over her forehead and then straightens up. "You are going to Velaris?"

He looks puzzled for a moment, wondering how she knows about it. And it's almost like the Valkyrie can read his thoughts. She chuckles softly, saying, "Do you think Gwyn keeps secrets from us?" Her eyes twinkle in the morning light as the sun rises over the Illyrian mountains.

He smirks, but inside, Balthazar feels incredibly happy, his heart doing around twenty leaps. Gwyn told her friends about him and that she invited him!

"So, you are?" Emerie bounces on her toes, a smug smile on her lips.

"I am, yes." He nods, unfolding his wings and spreading them wide behind his back. "I’m about to leave."

Emerie inhales deeply. "Is there a chance…that you can take me with you? You know…I…I—" "Of course," Balthazar quickly says, her pain somehow still so prominent.

She does not have to articulate what had been done to her by her own family. Balthazar knows about it, he won't make her talk about it if it is not necessary.

"Also, apologies. Do I have to address you as…Lord Balthazar now?" Tipping his head back, the young Illyrian chuckles loudly and when he straightens his posture, he shakes his head. "Please, don't. I am Balthazar to you, and will forever be."

Emerie smiles in return. She watches him closely, wondering when exactly he turned from a little, scared boy, into this strong, powerful and charming young male with the sparkling eyes and a smile that makes many females' heart melt. He turned into a male that will become the best camp lord Windhaven has ever seen, Emerie is sure of that.

When they were little her and Balthazar sometimes played together, not often but occasionally. Behind the laundry house, in the mud. She can still vividly recall how he would use wooden sticks to demonstrate various fighting techniques. It left her both confused and surprised — his willingness to teach her fighting skills. He was a male, younger back then, but still a male, and yet wanted to teach a female how to fight?

Nevertheless, she embraced these small lessons with him and to this day remembers what he taught her. Some days, in fact, most days, she couldn't help envy Thena for having a brother like Balthazar – a genuinely good male in her life.

Emerie shakes her head and with it the thoughts and memories vanish. She smiles at the young Illyrian who already has his hand extended, waiting for her to grab it.

She hesitantly reaches for him, moving closer to allow him to pick her up.

Balthazar does, as softly and gently as possible, lifting her into his strong arms. He holds her securely, not too tightly or close to his body, but enough to make her feel safe and at ease. "Ready?" he asks in a soft tone.

"Ready," Emerie whispers, the hurt about never being able to fly herself making her throat constrict. She has come to terms with it, has accepted her fate, but that does not mean it does not hurt anymore. It will hurt forever, the scars it left on her heart never vanishing.

Windhaven is only waking up when they start their ascent. The air is cool and crisp, a light breeze blowing over their skins and through their hair. Balthazar's large wings beat steadily behind his broad shoulders and slowly they move higher into the sky, above the tree tops.

"I think I've never asked," Emerie says and searches his gaze, "but how are you feeling after…after your father's death?"

Her own father, Proteus, died in the war with Hybern. And he died alongside Balthazar's father. They both lost their father that day and while Emerie was more relieved than in any way sad about it, she doesn't know how Balthazar dealt with it. Or is dealing with it.

"I am not particularly sad about his passing," Balthazar says, matter-of-factly. A muscle ticks in his jaw, his gaze trained upon the trees in front of him. Emerie can see that some emotion passes over his face — not grief, but hurt.

He guides them a little higher and draws in a deep inhale. "He…he was an abusive asshole. He hurt us, he hurt my mother, my sister. He hurt me. And I am glad he is gone." Rage simmers beneath Balthazar's skin almost like talking about what has happened evoked some whirlwind of anger to start brewing inside of him. But he does not let it break free, clamps down on it.

Yet, his eyes have turned teary, so have Emerie's and she wiggles an arm free, grabbing Balthazar's upper arm. "I know exactly what you mean." She opens up and starts to talk, telling him about her own father, about what he had done, how he had treated them. The words pour out of her, and she shares everything, knowing everything is safe with him. Her future camp lord.

Balthazar adds some of his own memories to her stories and slowly they realise that their childhoods have been quite similar in many ways. They lived a few huts apart from each other, but experienced the same exact things while growing up.

"I know with you being camp lord, nothing like this will ever happen again."

"No, it won't. When become camp lord, I will never let something like this happen again. No female will ever be treated like that again." It seems like this hope about changing the future, gives him so confidence, some trust and belief in himself that he can actually do it.

Emerie smiles through the tears. She gazes up at him, and her smile turns brighter. He will be the best camp lord Windhaven has ever seen. She can't wait for the day when it is official. And additionally, she also knows that this young male will be the greatest companion for Gwyn. Emerie couldn't have hoped for anyone better for her best friend than him.

"Do you trust me, Emerie?" Balthazar asks, his tone a little bit lighter now. His voice is still raspy, dried tears visible on his cheeks. It is something Emerie appreciates about him. He's not afraid to show his emotions, even in front of a female, which demonstrates his inner strength and confidence in his masculinity.

"I do…" she whispers, her voice a little uncertain concerning what is about to come. And she is really not at all prepared for what is about to come.

Within the blink of an eye, Balthazar shifts her in his arms, his hands sliding under her armpits where he holds her – rather holds her out in front of it, her legs or rather whole body dangling in the air.

Emerie shrieks a gust of wind brushing her exposed limbs. “Oh Gods!” she squeals, but then takes in the scenery that is provided to her - finally seeing it from a whole different perspective.

"Spread your arms, Emerie," Balthazar tells her and so she does.

"I will never be able to understand your pain, but maybe I can give you a little taste of what flying feels like. Let your feet dangle, spread your arms and most importantly…" His voice trails off, as they gain speed. "Close your eyes. You are safe with me, you have nothing to fear."

And so Emerie does as she is told, her lids closing, the wind softly stroking over her face, over her entire body and she feels…free. Weightless. Alive.

A happy squeak leaves her, her heart bleeding but slowly healing. Tears stream down her cheeks, tasting salty in her mouth. But they are no sad tears, they are happy tears, full of joy and love.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

"Are you alright?" Nesta's voice is filled with concern, probably having noticed both their puffy eyes, her hand immediately reaching out to grab Emerie's. She pulls Emerie to her.

"Never been better!" The Valkyrie grins, her gaze moving to Balthazar and then back to her best friend. "He showed me how to fly. He let me fly. Can you believe that? I…I almost flew fully on my own."

Nesta's eyes widen, her gaze ping-ponging between Balthazar who smiles politely, and her best friend, who has glossy, swollen eyes but beams at her.

"That is…I am so happy for you." Nesta embraces her best friend in a tight hug, and when she does so, her gaze meets Balthazar's.

Her eyes, full of gratitude and admiration, convey more than words could speak in this very moment.

Balthazar's heart warms. And he knows it has been the right decision to accept the position of camp lord. If this sort of happiness is possible through such a small gesture, he knows he can do a lot more. Change many things for the better. He wants to do great things. He wants to have this sort of happiness all throughout Windhaven. Even outside the borders of the war camp.

"We should go find our places now, the service is about to start." Nesta steps away, and both of them nod. "Mor is inside already." They have met in something like a big Library, that Balthazar still finds himself marvelling at. He has never seen such large and towering shelves, filled with thousands of books. It is impressive and stunning, but it also makes him wonder why Gwyn would live here. Why in this place? It does not seem like an ordinary dormitory, rather like a…sanctuary of sorts.

At the mention of Morrigan Emerie's body goes a little rigid and a small smile tugs at the corner of her lips. "How lovely," she expresses, strolling forward. "What are we waiting for?"

Balthazar's eyes widen in silent admiration, pupils dilating with wonder, as he takes in the service hall. The service hall is rather small, but nevertheless beautiful - like a hidden gem beneath the House of Wind. The walls of the hall are adorned with mosaic and immediately capture Balthazar’s attention, just like the benches and he knows they have all been meticulously crafted by talented hands. The ceiling seems clear and bright, creating a beautiful atmosphere inside that seems both enchanting and inviting.

Balthazar’s gaze moves around, to the group of priestesses at the very front, and his lips part.

Gwyn, wearing her beautiful pale blue robes, her long copper hair cascading down her back, immediately captures him. She is glowing and their eyes meet. Her smile, shy and heart-melting, is something Balthazar wants to remember forever. There is so much joy in her expression, so much hope and bliss. Never has anyone ever looked at him like that, and he wants to treasure this moment forever.

His heart flutters in response, and a warmth spreads through his chest, making him grin even brighter. Nesta next to him stifles a laugh, but Balthazar barely notices it.

Gwyn raises her hand in a delicate wave. And he returns it, folding his wings in so tightly that he can squeeze in between the benches.

When the service starts, the priestesses start to sing, and Balthazar knows that he has never ever before heard anything so beautiful, so mellifluous, it bewitches his heart.

Balthazar's whole focus is on Gwyn, his eyes and ears wide open in wonder and admiration. She is enchanting, there is absolutely no doubt about it, and his heart starts to beat faster, skipping one or the other beat. Her voice is the most beautiful thing he has ever heard and he has known this from the very first time he heard her sing on the rooftop. It is both enchanting and captures its heart like ribbons of silk curl around it. He is taken back to the moment on the rooftop where he shared his nightmares with her, and they truly talked for the first time. And he knew it back then…he was going to fall in love with this breathtaking female.

He is falling in love with her. This is what falling in love feels like. She has enchanted his heart, captured it, and he knows it already belongs to her.

Balthazar's lips part in silent wonder, so much happiness filling his entire being at the realisation of this. He is in love, and that for the very first time in his life. And this feeling —Cauldron and Mother— is absolutely amazing.

He is so caught up in his thoughts, in the happiness he is feeling in this moment, he doesn't even notice that the service has come to an end. He, half-dreaming, follows Nesta, Emerie and Lady Morrigan outside of the hall, almost like walking on clouds, not paying any attention to their conversation only thinking about Gwyn.

But suddenly, Emerie snaps her fingers in front of his face, fetching him back to reality. They have stopped in a place that looks like a huge library.

"So?" she asks, eyes sparkling mischievously, a wicked grin on her lips. "Are you able to answer, my dear camp lord, or is your mind still with…Gwyn's beautiful voice?"

Heat and most definitely colour fill Balthazar's cheeks and he opens his mouth, but no words come out. He tries to glower, but has to chuckle and gives his head a shake. "Females…" he breathes.

"Hey! Be careful, youngling, or those females will whip your camp lord ass." Amused warning flashes brightly in Morrigan's eyes and Balthazar has to laugh again, the sound rich and low.

"Apologies. Emerie, what did you want to ask?" His cheeks still feel hot, his palms a little clammy.

"If you want to go home immediately, or if it is alright if we stay a little longer?" Her voice sounds hopeful, and when Balthazar wants to tell her that he would love to stay, Gwyn beats him to it.

"I think he wants to stay little longer." Her soft voice wraps around him, dancing over his skin, and a moment later Gwyn appears in his vision, slinging her arm through Nesta's and his breath catches in his throat, heart hammering against his rib cage. Stunning…the only word to describe her in this moment.

"Did you like the service?" Gwyn asks and smiles.

“It was wonderful,” Nesta says. “Just like every service. There is always something different about it, but it every time it is touching and beautiful.” The Valkyrie is beaming at her best friend and also Emerie compliments the service.

As they talk a little about the songs they sung during the service, it becomes clear that Mor and Emerie would love to spend some time together. Alone. The stolen glances and shy smiles speak volumes.

Emerie and Balthazar agree they will head back to Windhaven shortly before the sun starts to set and so her and Mor leave, their soft giggles reveberating through the corridors of the Library until they are out of earshot.

“I will apologise myself as well, looking for my mate. I haven’t seen him all day,” Nesta says and turns to look at Gwyn, waiting for her to give her the signal that it is alright to leave her alone with Balthazar.

Gwyn bows her head with a sheepish but grateful smile on her lips. (Her and Nesta had arranged that Nesta would check in with her if it is alright to leave her alone with Balthazar, should he want to stay a little longer).

Alone, now only her and Balthazar in the corridor outside the service hall, they take a moment to simply look at each other and revel in the peaceful silence. “I would like to show you my room,” then Gwyn eventually says after a moment. “You showed me your wood crafting space, I would also like to show you where I love to spend my time." Gwyn smiles up at him, eyes hopeful, her heart beating a little faster.

~~~~~~~~~~ tag list: @a-frog-with-a-laptop @brekkershadowsinger @moonlightazriel @callmeblaire @headcanonheadcase @waternymphia @autumndreaming7 @devilsfoodcake22 @readercacau @sv0430 @bubybubsters @cyntia-ktn

#gwyn berdara #gwyneth berdara #gwyn x balthazar #balthazar #balthazar acotar #acotar #acosf #acofah #acourtoffateandhealing

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bluest-planet · 10 months

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Miguel O'Hara Analysis from a First Gen Latine Perspective; Crab in a Bucket.

Alright, I'm gonna start this by saying this: I am definitely not the most articulated person when it comes to explaining my thoughts. Most of this is just putting my heart on the page by relating what I saw in Miguel's behavior and just one outlook out of many layered analyses.

Anyways, here's my analysis of Miguel O'Hara and how his internalized racism and generational trauma/jealousy stands out to me, especially as a first gen mixed Latine.

Let's lay some groundwork for my perspective first! Hey, you can call me Moonie or Blue. I use it/they pronouns, proud to be queer! I'm a highschool dropout, and both of my parents were immigrants from rural and abusive families. Mexican and Salvadoran/Salvi to be clear. Have lived in poverty my entire life, and been whitewashed and forced to assimilate to keep up appearances for a good chunk of life.

I've heard bits and pieces about Miguel's comic origin, but haven't read them myself so apologies if I get some things wrong. I have seen Spiderverse 5 times so I feel like that's good enough. Anyways here's a story anecdote;

I went to Mexico not that long ago, to learn a trade from some family. Real blue collar, labor intensive, factory work. I was there for a while, and really got to marinate in what it's like to live in a country where you're not the minority anymore. I'm not targeted, I wasn't (entirely) racialized anymore. I was able to explore my family's culture more. Not that I've ever been entirely separated from it. But growing up in a white school where knowing Spanish forces you to go to English classes even though I had proved myself multiple times does something to you.

You assimilate, you're taken away from your culture. Anyone like you. It's lonely. And when you do find someone else like you, even if it's not the same country, but just latine, it's usually a fun experience to share our lives. Like a little secret between us no one else has. But as you grow and see more people, you realize how separate you are from the rest. I can't exactly relate to the latine-american experience (tm) like others do. I don't call myself Mexican or Salvi American, I don't like to. I didn't grow up that way. Ive always preferred to use the first generation. Or child of immigrants.

Miguel O'Hara is a mixed Mexican/Irish man. And from what I've seen; not all that attached to his Mexican identity either. It's made more prevalent in the movie however. He doesn't have a strong accent, he has the high cheekbones and eyes I'd recognize on a cousin. But the strong jawline and sunken face of a mixed man who's certainly not taking care of himself.

He reminds me of my cousins. Or my uncles.

He displayed a familiar rage to my own; lashing out and stressed. But it's got some sinister machismo underlaid in it. When he yells at Miles, all I see is my dad yelling at me, or myself yelling at my dad. Bc anger is the only way we knew how to communicate and express ourselves living under so much scrutiny all the damn time.

Bc yes; the spiderverse is amazingly diverse, and anyone can be the mask. But Miguel obviously doesn't really see it that way. There are exceptions. It's always come off to me how most of the maskless spiders we see have black and brown faces. And while I'm sure it's not all white. The amount of Peter Parkers. I'm sure they are the large majority. Or at least it feels like that.

Maybe he sees the spiders that aren't peters as straddling a thin line. A tenuous canonicity in a sea of Parkers. They don't break canon, but they're outliers. It just reminds me of the few black kids or brown kids I'd see in my white school. Maybe one or two in my own classes. And none of us reached out to each other often. We were left alone.

And left to be scrutinized by our white peers and teachers and school staff.

They might not say anything; but you feel that weight. That gaze on you at all times. I was lucky for being light skinned and ambiguous in my appearance. Some confused me for the few East Asian kids even. A more 'model' minority and free from more gazes able to 'pass'. Miguel is darker, but he's conventionally attractive, tall with straight hair and a sharp jawline instead of short, chubby cheeks, round face and curly hair.

I get praised for being light skinned and largely unblemished, for being skinnier than my siblings and having a more traditionally feminine fashion and hobbies. But my anger, temper, and lack of 'respect' downgrades me. My lack of education? More so.

My uncles would say;

"Well! Since you won't finish school, you might as well get a job wherever you can and support your family!"

"Yes, I'm trying my best, but I don't want to work for pennies and bad hours. A lot of places don't want to compensate me."

"How ungrateful! When we were your age, back in our day none of us were blessed to be in your position! You live in America, where you ungratefully gave up such great education and life! We were lucky to even go to elementary school! Your grandfather had us working in the fields, or fishing instead. And when we could work? We took what we could! It didn't matter if the company treated us right, paid us good, or gave us good hours, we did what we had to for the family! Your generation knows nothing of hard work!"

"But how can you have pride in that? How can you not understand how exploitative that was? Letting them work you like mules and destroy your bodies? Why did you not fight? Why would you want to suffer like that?"

"We know we were not treated right. But we have the guts to do work no one else wants to do! We're men! It's our duty to take pride in providing for the family. We break our bodies for our children and love– your parents did not do the same for you to copy our hardships. But if you won't take that opportunity given to you– then you'll face the consequences and learn your place. The companies will never treat us better; you should've been better sso you wouldn't have to face the same as us."

"So you agree? They won't change and they'll keep exploiting you or anyone else who doesn't exceed great expectations? That these companies are taking advantage of people as desperate as you to get away with it and shrugging off any attempts to unionize and make things better? They're enslaving our people. And you're just going to go along with it? Because that suffering makes you feel prideful, meaningful? Do you really just accept this shitty undeserving position in your life? All because you feel like you deserve it for the outcome of your life you had no control over?"

That is to say. My relatives could not understand why I do not fit their perception of America. Even in Mexico, where although they are poor and the majority; they idolize the US. They boast about working illegally in the US under exploitive companies to bring the mighty American dollar home. They scoff at the notion of unions, government aid and compensation bc they think those that live in the US and work in blue collar jobs are undeserving of the scraps we get for being undereducated or face institutional racism at every corner. Even in their position it reeks of classism. For them the US is a temporary shitty job to work in order to make themselves richer bc the dollar is worth more than the peso. They can't empathize with their struggling relatives across the border bc hey! The US, is amazing. Nevermind it's the exact reason why their own country and many others face the hardships that they do.

They don't realize the internalized racism in their pride. Feeling as if their lack of education and standing makes them only deserving of the worst jobs. That it's the only thing they can do right and are worth for. That anyone who doesn't succeed even after getting a better chance only deserves the same pain in order to uplift someone else's worth and has a chance. You become a lost cause; your only worth is a cog in the system and uphold the status quo. Never to question it, never to try to reach above your station after you missed your chance.

Like crabs in a bucket, they want to drag you down with them. Out of jealousy and misdirected anger. And for not meeting expectations. And for your own good, to learn your place.

Older relatives, and even immigrant parents often become extremely jealous of their children. For getting better lives they tried so hard to secure for them and for having the things they never had; or for not going through their own hardships. So they try to live vicariously through their children. Giving them great expectations to live up to bc they don't know how to compartmentalize all the racist trauma it took for them to get there and the real faceless enemy that put them through it. But their children have faces, their children are theirs– not people but property says America, and Catholic/Christian culture.

Immigrant parents love to pull the card of how indebted their children are to them, guilt trip them with their own pasts and current struggles. God forbid if you try to fight back and question the one authority and control they have over you.

Not all parents of course; But Miguel reflects this too me.

He may be more coded as being whitewashed and excluded from his culture. But he tries to fit in a curated collection he doesn't fit with. He puts up appearances as a strict, competent leader, but since he has an unremovable aspect to him that separates him from the rest- he wasn't bitten, he was mutated with a spider- which everyone makes clear to you.

Everyone makes it clear that you're not white, even when white culture is all you know having been so sanitized, defanged and removed from your own. That you wont ever fit in and must grovel for the rest of your life to make up for it. Even if it's all you've ever known.

Miguel is a spider, but he wasn't bitten so he's not a 'true' spider he tells himself. He's othered as well with what I interpret as unintentional microaggressions.

"He's like a ninja vampire but a good guy."

"you're just gonna have to shut up and trust me, I'm a good guy!" "You don't look like a good guy."

"You're like the only spiderman who isn't funny!"

"Dude are you sure you're even spiderman?"

"You're like a feisty Latina!"

"Wait, you were born here?"

"You don't look Latina!"

"Are you sure you're even Mexican if you can't speak it?"

He uses English more often, and Spanish as a quick add in. English is obviously preferred due to the fact his accent isn't all that strong and uses short repeated words or phrases.

He's violent when he first meets Miles. Throwing a trash can at him, rejecting his food, and admonishing him for something that wasn't necessarily his fault. But he does 'cool down'.

Him throwing the can reminds me of machismo, and how violent Latino men can get. It's a bad stereotype but for the movie- this struck me more as a critique of it. Enforcing some weird dominance and need to be aggressive to follow that weird expectation and allowances but also– it feels in line with who he is.

I have had more than a few rough patches being physically violent to express my anger when I couldn't win something or felt too small and had to lash out to make myself feel heard. Hitting someone, slamming doors, breaking things, yelling, and destroying things. I moved past that stage as I grew older and wasn't a child anymore. But hell. I've don't things I'm not proud of yet can't help because all my life you're told to be the model brown person. To never express rage and seem like the monster everyone is waiting for you to show. To it lies festering until you can use it behind closed doors. Latina girls aren't allowed to be visibly angry like that- and while it's expected from Latino boys, and feared when Latino men express it. Most of the time, we're not allowed to spread anger at all. Otherwise it does make us unreasonable, angry monsters.

You're not allowed to be angry or frustrated. Which only makes it worse.

I'm not excusing his actions. But his rage reminds me of my father or a relative, or even my own lashing out on a younger family member because it's so normalized to do it only to family and the young- the only excusable people to express it at without repercussions.

But then he cools down, he gets quieter, when Peter B walks in. And reminds himself of his audience and a fellow adult.

He then tried to be more rational and explains to Miles what he believes he did wrong. Tries to even relate his own trauma to convince and prep him to not put up a fight when he inevitably tells him the truth of what's to come.

"you can't ask me to just let my dad die!"

"I'm not asking."

It's a familiar emotion. When an adult, a father, a mother, an aunt, an uncle, or even a sibling tells you that something is going to happen whether you like it or not. Enforcing that will onto you for 'your own good.' Or because it's what 'has to happen."

Miguel is jealous of Miles. He got bit, he's more traditional in origin than Miguel, but he won't follow the expectations and 'bright future' he's been set up for. For 'wasting' his chance. A chance Miguel would die for. One similar to his own. As an anomaly that replaced/continued the mantle of spiderman after their original perished.

Because why would Miguel only mess with Miles now, instead of when he had a chance? If he had all this time and knew about him, why wouldn't he just cut the problem from the root earlier? Why would he let Miles live and work so hard just to restrain him for the canon even of his dad dying to pass? Why would he let Miles be this 'Original' Anomaly and run free?

Bc he knows on some level, he's spiderman too. More than he is. Miles still fulfills his position as spiderman in his verse. There's no need for Miguel to kill him or do anything other than make sure the canon still happens in that verse and then never let him escape his own world again. Nor does he likely really want to hurt/kill Miles. Honestly, it seems if Miguel had it his way from the start; Miles would have been left completely alone and isolated from ever knowing about the Spider Society at large and let him be Spiderman of his world. If he didn't know about the society he wouldn't know about the canon even and try to circumvent it and everything would have been smooth.

Bc what happens if Miguel won and kept Miles at HQ? His dad died and he's sent back to being Spiderman forever excluded from HQ? He never tries to get rid of him. And it's obvious; he never did anything to help the 42! Miles' universe beforehand either. Content to just let it be before Miles gets there. It doesn't seem like he has any plans to actually do anything about a verse missing a spiderman so long as it's not destabilizing.

He's mad that now there has to be a spiderman that took the place of one that didn't need to die; but that world still needed a spiderman Miles fulfilled. Now there's one without a spiderman too, but he can't take the spiderman from one world to the other– not when, although it's in shambles, it is still intact. He doesn't need to intervene. He just need to uphold the status quo and never question it.

He's jealous that Miles got to be a more traditional spiderman, but none of the hardship because he feels like Miles didn't do anything to deserve becoming spiderman in the first place. But if he's going to be one, then he better fit his exact mold to make it up to him. To prove he has worth in the cog. Accept the shitty hand he's been dealt and take pride in the awful like he has bc that's the only way to make him feel like he has any worth too anymore.

Miguel tried to rise above his station, he aimed for that better life. And what did it get him? Nothing. Everything was taken away from him. It was just proof by the universe telling him he did not deserve a better life than the shitty one he was dealt. He's just like my uncles, traumatized from working hard for pennies, and thinks he's deserving of it, because he wasn't educated/a traditional spiderman. And that anyone else who doesn't take the better opportunities needs to be taken down with him in shared suffering.

He sees Miles: another mixed kid, optimistic and worthy, confusingly rejecting every opportunity in the face of a little short term pain. Giving it all up bc of one small hiccup. He thinks Miles is ungrateful and greedy, wanting it all; after all he's seen what happens when you try to have it all.

In a twisted way. He thinks having his father die is the lesser evil, the smaller pain. A singular familial death is a small piece to pay for an entire stable universe and the glory spiderman brings. That by showing this reasoning to Miles, not giving him a choice and just enforcing it like he knows better than an ignorant child will save him the pain and effort. He's teaching Miles his internalized racism and trauma. Passing it down to him like it's a survival lesson. Telling him to swallow it like a bitter pill that will make him feel better. He treats Miles like getting bit was a moral failure and that he has to make up for it.

But like me to my Uncles. And Miles to Miguel, he tells him it isn't right. That thinking is wrong. This system isn't my fault. It's a bad system that needs to change so this never happens again. You don't have to suffer to succeed and survive. You don't have to accept scraps when you can reach for the full meal. You have to try for something better, no matter how hard, and fight to make things better.

Don't let sleeping dogs lie. Miguel can wallow for all Miles cares, but he isn't going to let himself lose that same fire for doing what's right and aiming for a life that he wants for himself and his friends that they actually deserve.

Elders let the status quo remain, they often feel like nothing will change, but we can't accept that otherwise nothing will actually get better, never going out of that system that beat them down. Constantly expecting the younger generation to bend to their will and experiences. Miles and Hobie make it a point to show that no, they can put up a fight and they should and shame everyone else for just accepting that false narrative blindly.

There's so much more I could get into but this is long. Like how he contradicts himself to better suit his argument and what not. I have so much to say but this was all what I've been rotating since watching the movie a ton of times. None of this even low-key touched on my issues on how he's viewed and portrayed by fans but- I hope this outlook kinda helps to humanize him? Like. Of course I know he's being unreasonable and violent/aggressive towards a kid. But at the same time, I feel like most people just see him as this angry violent person who is just on some self righteous power trip asshole instead of a complex character and TO ME- a reflection on latine elders and yet also what it's like to grow up whitewashed/undervalued and trying to bestow that trauma to a younger Latino boy as a bad way of teaching a life lesson, to assimilate him. It comes from a bad place of… not love, but just. Wanting to prepare someone for hardship and yet not questioning why he have to deal with that hardship in the first place.

Anyways good night! It's 3:30 am dear God excuse any mistakes I needed this out of my system.

#atsv #atsv analysis #spiderverse analysis #miguel o'hara #miles morales #atsv miguel #blue speaks #blue's analysis #do not clown on my post so help me god i will turn off rb and replies of someone acts stupid #anyways personal hc but Miguel is also aroace and theres nothing u can do about it taking him to the movies cousin time #he was not my initial fave or anything but theres so many uh. bsd takes or just. idk i felt like i had to say my piece on this man from my #own personal experiences #long post #that vibe u get when the family considers you a failureeeee and shares their unwarented advice/opinions #and think they know whats best for youuuuu

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sunshinediaz · 6 months

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20 questions for fic writers

i was tagged by @callmenewbie, @hippolotamus, @watchyourbuck, @thewolvesof1998, @jesuisici33, @wikiangela, and @exhuastedpigeon 🫶🏼

i'm gonna put it under a cut because phew it got kinda long

how many works do you have on ao3?

what's your total ao3 word count?

uh, 301,903 which... goddamn look at me go

what fandoms do you write for?

i've written for stucky, geraskier, yenskier, steddie, and buddie, but it's only buddie right now. those 2 losers are really rotting in my whole brain and i'm loving every second of it 🤭

what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

(i cheated and used only buddie okay) the side effects of eating too many clementines at 759 the dinosaurs smelled magnolias at 722 this is why you shouldn't piss in the ocean at 668 you'll feel the rush of it all at 511 all things bright and beautiful at 453

do you respond to comments? why or why not?

i absolutely respond to comments! it might take me a while because i'm not articulate enough to convey how much i adore everybody, but i love talking with people that enjoy the silly goofy stuff i write!

what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

burned on the pyre, a steddie timeloop fic. the ending isn't exactly angsty, but it isn't as joyous as all my others because it was important to me to keep it as realistic as i could + it reflects my mental state so, uh, oops

what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

mm, i think you can argue all my fics have happy endings but if you go down in the woods today has the FUNNIEST ending and that's important

do you get hate on fics?

yeah lmao

do you write smut? if so, what kind?

yes i do! and, um, the explicit kind? i don't know how to answer this because my porn varies for each fic but they fuck nasty regardless!

do you write crossovers? what's the craziest one you've written?

no. that's not for me.

have you ever had a fic stolen?

absolutely i have <3

have you ever had a fic translated?

i have not!

have you ever co-written a fic before?

nope. i tried once when i was younger but it didn't work out because i'm a dickhead and found that i was not only writing my parts but fixing theirs as well.

what's your all time favorite ship?

i've had a lot of ships over the year and i'm never going to forget any of them, ever, but buddie gives me so much joy and good times and i think... yeah they're probably my favorite ship

what's a wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

none of them honestly? i'm going to finish all of them.

what are your writing strengths?

uh, dialogue. maybe.

what are your writing weaknesses?

angst, emotions, porn, things that make sense, action, romantic relationships, ANGST.

thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

god, so i'm pretentious and while i know some spanish i'm definitely not fluent but i refuse to use google translate so a friend of mine helps me with translating as straight across as we can—so like, long story short, it's a yes from me

first fandom you wrote for?

maximum ride on ff dot net 💀 why was i 12 years old learning how to navigate that fuckin site my god

favorite fic you've written?

but i've got my teeth in you, a bad things happen fic where buck gets a tooth knocked out during the lafd annual baseball game and somehow proposes to eddie, who of course says yes. it's just so FUN?

i'm no pressure tagging @honestlydarkprincess, @shitouttabuck, @giddyupbuck, @callaplums, @daffi-990, @try-set-me-on-fire, @eddiebabygirldiaz, @eddiediaztho, @nmcggg, and honestly anybody else who wants to be a lil chatty mwah

#tag games

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fagdykepearlescentmoon · 3 months

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i have SO many thoughts about soul but i can articulate exactly none of them beyond i NEED to put that thang in a blender and turn it on high

#just saying words

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s1renidae · 10 months

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does anyone else (specifically any other autistic ppl) really really struggle with art in terms of like. getting yourself to actually do it or learn how

I dont rly know how to articulate it but like. I have tried, I have BEEN trying for years to find joy in creating art but I CANT, because creating anything just feels like an unwinnable battle against myself. it's not exactly art block because I have so so many things I want to draw and i can envision them perfectly but then when it comes time to actually do it just. can't. I freeze up. I feel like I dont know how to do/make what I want to and I know that you have to make bad art in order to learn how to make good art but my problem is that if I can't do exactly what I want to do or if I don't know exactly step by step how to get where I want to go my brain just Won't Let Me. reaching the limit of what I'm familiar and comfortable with feels like hitting the limit of a map in a game like I just. hit a wall and can't go any further

and I've had the thought that maybe with the way my brain works I am just simply not meant to be an artist but I HATE that, because I love drawing I really do and I'm 100% more miserable being stuck with all the images in my head than I am when I actually do make something and i really really dont want to let my stupid autism/adhd/whateverthefuck stop me from doing something that i actually am passionate about but I just. can't do itfor some reason !! it's so frustrating and I've tried so many ways to get past it I've gotten so much advice from artists in my life and none of it has worked and I want to fucking cry because I refuse to accept that I just can't do what I want to do but I don't know how to move forward

I'll get to a certain point in a piece (usually I'll finish a sketch/lineart and MAYBE add flat colors) but then I think about what to do next and even if I know the process I just get overwhelmed and then I quit because that's easier and I dont know how to make myself not quit that's how I've been with everything I've tried my whole life and I'm about ready to just give up on doing or being anything that I want to because it seems like I'm just completely incapable of holding myself to anything

I really want to feel the joy/relaxation that I see other ppl get from drawing/painting and I used to feel that when I was a kid and it comes back in phases sometimes as long as I stick to just sketching but I just. can't I know im saying that a lot and it doesn't rly mean anything but that's rly all it is I Simply Cant. I struggle and then I give up because I'm such a perfectionist that I circle back around to not being able to do anything at all because I know I can't meet my own standards and I can't muster up enough dedication to learn and practice and ahhhhhh idk

I know this has become more of a vent post than anything but like please someone tell me I'm not alone or that there's some way around this shit because it's starting to feel really hopeless and I don't want to completely give up on the only hobby I've ever been this passionate about wanting to focus on

#.txt #vent #artists on tumblr #<<< summoning #art advice

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cookinguptales · 1 year

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Yes! It's like you put exactly what's been bothering me about the 4.09 into words. I just wasn't able to articulate it before. I love dark comedies and WWDITS is usually very good about balancing the two. The dark things that happen have to be be made funny/absurd, develop the plot and/or give insight the characters, and have some kind of eventual conclusion that makes it all make 'sense' in the larger story. 4.09 didn't make the dark things that happened funny. It was just fucked up and then they told some jokes about it happening. The only moment where anything developed satisfyingly from the the hours was Nandor's realization that 'maybe love isn't about someone liking the things you like' BUT... that monologue doesn't specifically mention freddie or marwa by name (iirc). i think that part was filmed before the rewrites and it was kept bc it was the only moment of satisfying development in the episode

I've had a long time to think too much about it lmao. I feel like I also wasn't quite able to articulate all my thoughts right after the episode came out, but I guess things have settled in my mind a bit since then. The sting of it has faded somewhat, I think.

And yeah, obviously I have no problem with dark humor. It's WWDITS's bread and butter. But usually it's very OTT and silly and we're supposed to laugh at the vampires for doing these awful things and not seeing an issue with it, not at their victims. And Guillermo has been tortured throughout the entire series, but... idk, usually there's like a kernel of hope for him, y'know? That they treat him abysmally but they still care about him. His life is awful but there's hope that it can be good. That fucked up things happen to him, but they're often the result of his own choices -- and he has the power to make different choices.

There were many ways they could have made what happened with Freddie funny or absurd or hopeful or a logical conclusion to his own actions, but... really, none of that quite gelled. The joke was just that Guillermo was suffering on a very deep and very personal level, far worse than he'd ever suffered at Nandor's hands before, and then the knife was shoved home in that last scene when he got it from Freddie, too. There was no punchline or catharsis. It just... sucked.

They sort of pawed at the idea that Nandor was doing this out of love and idiocy, but it didn't work the way Nandor hurting Guillermo by giving him a glitter portrait instead of biting him did in the pilot. I think that's partially because Nandor seemed so genuinely sweet to Guillermo with the glitter portrait (and Guillermo eventually came to love it) and partially because of how the episode ended -- with Guillermo opening the curtain and then closing it again. It was the reminder that he does actually have the ultimate power over them, and he just chooses not to use it. That brings the suffering back to funny because he does have recourse -- it's his own choice not to utilize it.

Both Guillermo and Marwa were not given recourse in this episode, and I think that's part of why it felt uncomfortable rather than funny. There was a real sense of them just... constantly punching down, not up at the vampires, and with jokes that weren't actually particularly funny. God, even just being funnier would have helped the episode tremendously.

I think doing this episode right on the heels of one about him finally coming to terms with his sexuality and coming out to his family didn't help, tbh. We were primed to be rooting for Guillermo to find happiness in this new direction in his life, or to at least have a good reason for losing it. (Which is why, again, I think the theme of Guillermo's lying, which fucked up his relationship with his family in 4.07, would have been interesting to examine in the context of 4.09.) But then... it's just an unrelenting 20 minutes of seeing Guillermo cry and be a punching bag through no fault of his own and honestly? It's just... not fun or cathartic to watch...

Harvey did a great job of selling genuine emotions, of selling the idea that this is so, so important to Guillermo and so, so devastating for him, and I think it just made the whole situation kind of upsetting rather than funny. It wasn't just Nandor being stupid and accidentally hurting him; it was Guillermo realizing that the one person he thought might put him first didn't actually love him at all.

(And I think the fact that Nandor did eventually put him first in the same episode was cold comfort, though perhaps it could have worked if it'd been more deftly handled.)

Like... that's the kind of thing characters in this show usually get revenge for (thinking about Jenna a bit here) not the kind of thing that's just... never really resolved outside of a character being permanently emotionally wounded by it.

And then it happening to TWO characters in the same episode, Guillermo and Marwa? Yeah, I can't say I'm shocked that people didn't respond well to it.

I think WWDITS can actually be so good at showing devastating things happening to their core cast (I mean, 4.10 was very good for that with Laszlo and Colin) and the emotional fallout of those things, but maybe that's even why it felt so jarring to see this awful thing happening to Guillermo and being largely played for laughs...?

Like... even when Gail dumped Nandor, the episode ended with Guillermo comforting him and him joining his friends... 4.09 just ends with Guillermo looking like he's been sucker punched as watches his boyfriend cheat on him in broad daylight. That's rough, man, and what a fucking downer of an ending.

idk man, the actual ingredients of the episode could have turned out all right, maybe? It was just the execution that was so damn baffling. It's like they just forgot to make it funny or charming or at least emotionally satisfying. Not a thing I'm used to saying about WWDITS. :(

#replies #wwdits tag

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exleviathan · 2 years

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TIMING: current. LOCATION: the beach. PARTIES: @exleviathan & @kadavernagh SUMMARY: Regan runs into Levi at the beach and sees something rather unfortunate. CONTENT WARNINGS: none.

So much had changed over the last few years, but one constant, at least, was that walking along the beach provided an adequate distraction from so much of what happened in this town. Regan needed a break. To get away from stupid coyote baggage. To clear her thoughts. Here, she could only focus on the tiny pulses she could feel from beneath the sand. Something inches below, there. Something perhaps a couple of feet below, here. Skeletons, carcasses, even dead bivalves, she didn’t know for sure, but there was comfort to be found in the feeling. There was something else, though. Something… bigger. Not overwhelmingly so, but it tugged at her peripheries enough to pique her curiosity. She turned around, heading closer to the shore, where a number of beachgoers seemed to be enjoying the fine weather.

And nearly ran right into someone as she was trying to trace where the feeling was coming from. A certain large and rather imposing someone. “I – sorry. I should have been paying more attention. Distracted, you know. There are so many things under the sand here.” That was a strange thing to say, wasn’t it? She needed to address that, fix it. “Oh, um, what I mean to say –” No. That was walking into a lie. “Or, what I could have said is that the sand is difficult to walk on. Which for some, serves as a distraction. Enough to walk headfirst into someone. Are you alright?”

—

The warm temperatures of summer had found their way to the port town, beckoning folks from their homes to enjoy the sand and waves. No longer the only soul on the beach as it had been during the winter, Levi was spending just as much time beneath the water as it was outside of it, deriving a lot of entertainment from people-watching. With its head popped up just above the waves, hands running through its hair to slick it back from its eyes, a familiar looking face caught its attention. One that he hadn’t met in person before, but had done a bit of research on so it could know exactly who it was talking to online.

The good doctor Kavanagh, who didn’t seem to believe in much of anything that couldn’t be explained by science. Someone it would normally describe as a real stick in the mud, but something about Regan was… intriguing. Fun, even.

Ducking beneath the surface again, Levi swam for the shore, emerging surprisingly fast considering how far out it had been. Regan was distracted, looking for something, and it brought a sly smirk to the aberration’s lips. Just what was she getting up to? Watching her pivot unknowingly in its direction, Levi made no move to get out of the way, letting her walk right into it, its grin widening as she apologized. “Just peachy, no worries,” it assured her. Glancing down at the sand beneath their feet, Levi wiggled its bare toes. “Things under the sand, eh? What kind of things?” It glanced back up at her, looking cheeky. “Whatcha lookin’ for?”

—

Well, at least he didn’t seem any worse for the wear. Regan pulled in a breath of salty air and sighed. The last thing she needed was to accidentally give someone a contusion on their lip by hitting it with her skull. “I enjoy… beachcombing, of sorts. Looking for things in the sand.” Just not the typical shells or sea glass that most people pocketed as treasures. Still, she anticipated what his next question was likely to be. Bones seemed slightly less strange to admit to than rotting carcasses, though her hesitation came far more from the reactions of others in town than her own shame. “Sometimes there are bones. Fish, gulls. I find and clean them. Articulate them when I can.” She looked up at him, the shadow he cast over her, and all she could think was that he would probably be an effective digger for getting to some of those deeper finds.

“You must have been swimming,” she pointed out, noting his wet skin and attire. “How’s the water? Decent weather, huh?” Neither of them cared about the weather; she was fairly sure of that. “I am Dr. Kavanagh. I wish I could say that you were the first person I’ve walked directly into today.” Though was the second really much worse? “There are distractions, as I said,” she added. And she could still feel it, the dark current in the air; it had pulled her like a river from the beach to the shore, near the crowd, and she knew she needed to identify exactly where it spilled out.

—

“Bones, huh? That’s neat.” It sure made sense—all kinds of things decomposed on beaches, after all. Birds, as she’d mentioned, marine creatures, people… Levi had spooked its fair share of whales and sharks while traversing the shallows, causing them to beach themselves. It was careful not to overhunt, of course, but the occasional snack was difficult to pass up. It particularly enjoyed the taste of orca and leopard seal.

Looking down at itself at her observation, Levi smiled. “Yes, you’re… very observant,” it chuckled. As she introduced herself, Levi wondered briefly if it should attempt to be as non-threatening as possible and feign surprise at the revelation, but then remembered that it didn’t really give a shit if it made itself seem weird. “Yeah, I know. Regan.” It allowed a pregnant pause to hang in the air for a moment before continuing, “I’m Levi. You know, the internet stranger that told you to drink some milk.” Its eyes twinkled mischievously, and with a lopsided smirk, it went on to add, “Gotta ask, doc—how is it exactly that you’re finding these bones? I was watching you for a little bit, looked to me like you were just wandering around staring at the sand. You got x-ray vision, Superman?”

—

Regan waited patiently, expecting an introduction to follow her own. That was convention, right? Not that she herself always cared about social conventions, but this was a simple one. It finally came, and her eyes widened in recognition. “You. You’re the strange individual I was talking to, yes. That was so long ago.” She didn’t like his attitude, his certainty that drinking milk would somehow solve all of her problems. His fixation on that stray cat that ended up in her apartment. He was odd. And it all seemed so unimportant now in comparison to what she’d been through since. Even so, she felt a pinch of annoyance.

The question made her freeze. She had been asked the same thing so many times and in so many ways, especially as a child. But back then, she could honestly say I don’t know. Now, that answer would scald her tongue. “Don’t be absurd.” I just feel the death through the sand.

“You’re prone to prying into peoples’ lives, aren’t you?” She gave him a sharp look as she dug her heels into the sand. She considered an answer that would not be a lie. “If you must know, this town is full of things that have died. If you do enough digging, you’re bound to find one eventually.” Enough digging in her case just happened to be very little. Time to change the subject. “There are sharks out there, you know. And other dangerous animals.” Animals that she doubted anyone short of Kaden could identify, but she didn’t want to think about that. “While a reasonable warning, I don’t think anyone would listen if they were advised to not swim. So be careful and try not to –” Die. The word was a drum beat inside of her, a twist in her chest. There was something wrong. She cleared her throat, not wanting to raise attention. “–Die.”

—

Well she wasn’t wrong about that, Levi absolutely did love to spend its time getting nosy in other people’s business. What else was there to do, when your lifespan stretched on to infinity? Besides terrifying and eating people, of course. That was also a favorite pastime.

Smirking, Levi didn’t interrupt with any sort of confirmation, instead just listening as she went on to lamely describe her methods. It sounded like little more than an attempt to deflect, but before Levi would bring her honesty into question, she was shooting a very peculiar warning its way.

Eyebrows raised and the demon slowly turned its head to look back at the sea. “Sharks. Right.” It was difficult to remember that it had to be afraid of anything, much less the simple creatures it had once shared the oceans with. Still… “Shark attacks are… pretty rare. I’m not that worried about it. About dying.” To sharks. Glancing back at Regan, Levi gave her a quick once over before returning to the subject it was really curious about—“so what, you just gonna dig with your hands when you find a spot that feels nice, or…?”

—

“Not worried about dying?” Regan lifted a brow. It was something most people weren’t worried about, strangely. She supposed it helped people continue on with their day-to-day lives without fear of the inevitable looming over them. Still, in this town, it would probably be prudent to at least be a little worried about it. Elsewise death could come sooner rather than later. “Death is inevitable, but there are still things that can be done to put it off. At least in some cases. One of those is not swimming in water where there has been an abundance of shark attacks over the last…” Well, truth be told, White Crest has had a disproportionate number of shark attacks since before the records of the ME’s office could log them. “Couple hundred years, perhaps. There are many years of documentation.” Though she realized her explanation wasn’t really much of an explanation. That was one even she didn’t have.

His question rubbed her the wrong way. Like he thought she was strange. “For your information, yes,” Regan said, crossing her arms. “Is that so unusual? Plenty of people dig around at the beach, you know. And they’re often aimless. At least I have goals.” Why was he so interested in this, anyway? Why was he so interested in her? She frowned, debating bluntness versus avoiding conflict. A decision she had wrestled with more than once in more than one context. Treating living patients brought the worst of that decision out. “Why do you care? I know how that sounds. I’m not attempting to brush you off. You attempted to help me online, you knew who I was, and now you seem to want to dig through the sand with me. So what is it? If you have questions about autopsies, you can simply ask them.” But that same knot formed in her chest again, tightening. Indigestion, probably. She was still getting periods of it from all of those dead animals the coyote had her eat. Still, she couldn’t help but shift her weight, looking visibly uncomfortable. The rope tightened some more. Regan cleared her throat again. This was familiar. “You may need to excuse me. There’s – I think there’s something –”

—

“Okay, okay,” Levi conceded, lifting its hands defensively. “I am afraid of dying, just not to sharks.” There was no real good reason for it, considering that as far as the sharks were concerned, Levi was just another human. Or was that not the case? It hadn’t really taken the time to study its connection with the ocean life, see if anything had remained intact… sure, it had encountered some toothy boys while free diving, but they’d been friendly enough. Huh. Maybe that was something worth testing. Might get chomped, but whatever, it’d endured worse already.

Chuckling, Levi offered Regan a shrug. “It’s not the digging that’s funny, it’s the wandering around until you feel like you found a good spot, with absolutely no indication that there’s something there. You’re quirky, that’s all. It’s endearing.” Its eyebrows rose at the accusation, the need to understand an ulterior motive, but all she got in response was a grin. “Care is a strong word, little lady. No questions ‘bout the dead, I’m plenty familiar with ‘em… you said it yourself, I just like to pry. You seem interesting, so I’m interested.” Her expression shifted to something resembling discomfort, and Levi inwardly sighed. It’d come on too strong yet again, which meant the rest of this day was going to be pretty boring. An apology wasn’t in the cards, however, so it just cocked its head to the side as Regan spoke, looking confused.

“Are you o—” The question evaporated as a sudden, terrible sound kicked up. At first Levi didn’t realize where it was coming from, taken aback as it was, head whipping around to find the source as its hands sprung up to its ears to cover them. It was painfully loud, but not only that—fear was blooming in its chest. Fear it almost never felt, except for when its life was in immediate danger. Its knees weakened and gave out, forcing the demon to sink down into the sand. It looked to Regan to see if she was suffering the same effect, only realizing then that… that it was coming from her. Her mouth was agape, eyes as black as the deepest trenches of the ocean. And then, when it was quite certain it couldn’t take another second of the awful scream, it became muffled. The ground swayed and spun beneath Levi’s knees, sending it toppling over onto its back. The screaming was replaced by a loud ringing, and as it scrabbled to right itself, it realized it could barely hear the shouts of the other beachgoers or the crash of the waves. Panic still had it in a vice grip, and as it stared up at Regan once more, it looked terrified.

“Wha—what the fuck did you do?!” it bellowed, its own voice sounding faraway.

—

Levi’s curiosity about what she was digging for would be short lived. Regan knew as soon as death swirled through her stomach. It was unmistakable, what that meant. He was about to have a whole new set of worries. She tried to peel herself away, but she didn’t have long. It would tear through her without mercy and within seconds. The breathing exercises weren’t worth anything – Deirdre had known that all along. What she needed was mastery over pain, and there was still so much work to be done there. Especially now, having invited some of her emotions into her life, even if just by an inch. So Regan closed her eyes, clenched her teeth, curled her fists. Prepared for the storm, just as she’d prepared for the lid of the casket to close on top of her, dark water filling her up. Now that dark water came out. A scream pouring from her lungs and up her throat, exploding at Levi despite her best efforts to lock it in her mouth. The scream was cut short, not as forceful as it otherwise would have been, but she knew the worst had already been done. And she couldn’t check on Levi. He was barely there, fading as quickly as the beach they stood on. And she was underwater, not inside of the casket, but watching someone.

A diver. Alert, panicked. Something punctured the oxygen tank. Regan watched the rapid realization that he needed to hold his breath, needed to swim upward, but he wasn’t fast enough or shallow enough. Light was sparse down here, the fish strange and phosphorescent. Limbs flailed, a flurry of bubbles streamed out of his mask as it filled, his lungs now thick with water. The waves parted, giving way to sand, sun, Levi. Regan blinked, eyes flipping back into focus, as she found herself face to face with someone who looked deeply afraid. Memories of her assistant at the morgue burned through her mind. She caught a glimpse of the dark cracks along the skin of her arms and was also reminded how much of a failure this was, she was. So much for preventing this. At least she had contained it. About as well as putting a plastic shopping bag over an explosive.

She backed up, thinking of the pain in Levi’s ears and the way she would need to pay for this later. “I’m sorry. I screamed. That’s probably obvious…” she kicked a foot through the sand, wishing she could bury herself in it forever. Why not just go for it? He was already in pain and interested. Regan winced. “Some may say that means you’re going to die soon. I say that’s absurd superstition, but you have the right to know, anyway.” It didn’t matter how much she carved the emotion out of herself; someone looking at her with such terror in their eyes was worse than any dagger plunged into her hands. She looked away, took a step back. “I’m sorry, I – do you need anything? Stupid question. I’ve… done enough.”

—

Levi knew plenty about vampires, werewolves, and a few other beasties, but that was pretty much where the information dried up. Whatever she was, whatever the fuck that scream had done to it, was entirely new territory. As was the raw, unbridled terror that gripped it—this was what it could only imagine those humans on their ships must have felt in their final moments, staring skyward with mouths agape as the creature of myth descended upon them with gluttonous intent.

Her words sounded muddled, like she was trying to speak to it underwater. “What?” It hissed a pained breath, willing the ringing in its ears to go away, obviously to no avail. “I can’t… I can’t hear you. I can barely hear anything.” Its own voice vibrated painfully in its head, so for once, it was compelled to fall silent… but there were so many questions that needed asking. Fighting against the rapid thudding of its heart in its chest, Levi struggled to its feet, holding one hand over its left ear. “Why? Why’d you do that?” It wasn’t even sure it’d be able to understand her if she explained, but it had to ask.

—

The familiar pain on Levi’s face as she talked was easily recognizable by now. He couldn’t hear her. Not well, at least. Regan winced at the thought, backing up, her horror inflicted inward. She ached to help him off the ground, but that seemed a bad idea. She had seen enough sheer terror in peoples’ eyes to know that most wanted distance from her, not assistance. “Levi?” She asked, watching him. But he seemed to struggle to move past being stunned and in pain. Which was reasonable. Her hypothesis was quickly confirmed – he couldn’t hear very well. Damage that she could only hope would not be permanent, considering she had been able to hold some of the force of it back. Leah and Lilian seemed okay, right? That probably would be of little consolation to Levi.

“I didn’t – I – it just happens.” She hated how that no longer sounded as absurd as it used to. Not to her. Certainly to others, it was the same, though. Her horror twisted into a punch of self-loathing. At least when she was listening to a coyote skull, she would have been capable of fully explaining this without emotion getting in the way. Or better, she would have simply been able to contain the scream in its entirety. “It’s –” She needed to summon that, the confidence, the trust in Deirdre’s sources. As much as she hated to think about that time in her life. There was some good to be found in it, wasn’t there? The word banshee would not come, though. She took a tentative step toward Levi, close so he could hear or at least read her lips better. Her eyes caught a flash of her arm that made her grimace all over again. “It happens. When I’m near someone who is going to – I mean, everyone is going to – what I mean to say is, you might die soon. Within the week, for example.” His eyes were still shining with fear when she looked into them. “Can you hear me? We should leave. Before someone – this is not a good place to discuss this, if you want to discuss it at all.”

—

It just happens. So, what, involuntary howler monkey screaming that was loud enough to burst eardrums? Seemed suspicious, but maybe not as suspicious as the fact that she was even capable of making such a racket. If that was possible, then why shouldn’t it be involuntary?

Fuck, the world was weird.

This still begged the question of what had triggered it, and as the woman moved closer and spoke loud enough for him to discern her meaning, Levi found the answer to be… less than desirable.

“What,” it said flatly, out of utter disbelief. “Die? Within the week?” It was almost laughable, until the aberration remembered that it was no longer immortal, and had tangoed with more unknown entities in the last few months than it had all those years it terrorized the oceans of this dimension. Nothing it had encountered thus far could give it a good reason not to believe what she was saying, and with grim, albeit hesitant acceptance, the demon gave a slow nod. “Yeah,” it muttered, voice wavering as it glanced around them. It needed answers, if there were any she could provide. Death was not an option. “Yeah, let’s.. go.” Grimacing in pain as it pulled its hair back to tie it with the elastic around its wrist, Levi walked the short distance to its belongings that still sat upon the sand, tugging its shirt on over its head and slinging its bag over its shoulder. The confusion was slowly making way for anger, and as it stalked back to meet her, its expression had changed considerably. “Lead the way,” it grumbled, pressing its fingers against the underside of its ear and hissing in a sharp breath. Motherfucker.

—

Despite her unwanted ability of supposedly predicting peoples’ deaths, Regan had little to no experience actually informing those same people about what might happen to them. Even if she did completely believe in prophetic wails, she questioned the utility of letting anyone know. Who would believe her? Who would react in a sensible, pragmatic way? One’s own impending death could rarely be accepted in a matter of days. She had seen as much denial in the hospital during her rotations. Few made peace when death’s hooves were approaching at a rapid clip.

And yet. She had informed so many of their deaths within the walls of the hospital. There was no screaming, not at that time in her life, yet more certainty, more precision. Was this so different? It would be, to Levi, to others. But it didn’t have to be so different to her. That was framing even Deirdre might have approved of.

Regan gathered her nerves with a long sigh, and the tangle of thorns in her stomach loosened. “Right. With me.” He did want to discuss it. And Regan would not fail him, not in this. She glanced around, trying to evade catching anyone’s eyes. Fortunately, most beachgoers remained distracted – even if they were perhaps trying to understand where that scream came from – and she could look down and hide her arms behind her back. She brought Levi into the dunes. The wind tousled the beachgrass and the echoes of children’s play were faint in her ears.

“Is this alright?” She asked him, hoping that he could hear her slightly better now. “I’m sorry,” she started before realizing it would not be the first apology today, “I suppose I’ll be saying that a lot, but it’s true. Are your ears still ringing?”

—

“Perfect.” It opened and closed its jaw a few times, squinting against the loud ping that still wailed in its head… seemed to be dying down, though. Her voice still sounded murky, but it was clearer than before. “Yeah. It’s fine, I can hear you.” It seemed distracted, which was an accurate deduction: dead. Dead within a week. The idea expanded in Levi’s mind until there was room for little else, and the existential dread that accompanied such a grim fortune was sending a creeping chill up its spine.

Closing its eyes, the demon gave a shake of its head. “I don’t—how do you know it’s me that’s gonna die? There were loads of people on that beach.” The pressing question of how it was to die seemed to get caught up in its throat—did it want to know? Of course it did, how else was it supposed to avoid it? Sure, sure, the whole ‘you can’t escape your fate’ spiel, but this was different. It was the Leviathan, it couldn’t die.

Hell, she might not even know that. She might just smell death on it, or… it didn’t know how any of this worked. Time to find out.

Regan lifted a brow at Levi’s assertion he could hear her. Well enough, she supposed. Hopefully enough for her to convey what needed to be conveyed. “You should still see a doctor, later. One who isn’t me. And avoid subsequent loud noises, if you can.”

He seemed to be processing everything that had just happened. Which was a lot. Regan wasn’t even sure she would be able to process if she had been in his shoes. No, she would have simply acted, like a busy night in the emergency room. Processing would come later, if ever. Not that she was currently putting processing anything off. No coyotes here. Not one.

But she still needed to answer him. “How do I know it’s –” Well, that was a fair question. Deirdre had always told her that she would just know, deep in her bones. She would see it clearly, beyond a shadow of a doubt. But if that were true, it had never been consistently obvious to Regan. The person she saw only minutes ago was underwater, clad in a swimsuit and diving equipment, and it could have been almost anyone. Yet, she hadn’t screamed until she began talking to Levi. That meant something, right? “Right, um, I see – when that happens, I can see things. I mean, I can always see things. But I see things that aren’t right in front of my face. Like memories. But they may not have happened yet.” Her stomach curdled with dread as she anticipated how he might react to her next question. “Do you… dive? That’s what I saw. A diver, and something creating a hole in the oxygen tank. They drowned, of course. Too deep down.” She licked her lips, wanting the tense moment to pass. “And I was closest to you when it happened.”

—

The more she explained, the more Levi’s expression fell. Gone was the demon that carried itself in such high regard, infallible and invincible, capable of only great things. Gone was the sardonic overtone of every word that ever slipped from its mouth, replaced instead with the icy rigidity of fear. The dread, quiet at first, rising up behind it like an assassin ready to strike, plunged its blade deep into Levi’s back. Clearly she wasn’t mistaken. Clearly this… this vision she’d had was, in fact, a vision of its demise. Within the week. Panic bloomed in its chest and it felt afraid. Truly and deeply afraid.

“So I don’t dive this week, easy. Or next week. Problem solved,” it hissed, beside itself as the anxiety swallowed it up. Short, shallow breaths had it feeling lightheaded while wide eyes stared at the woman standing in front of it, saying it was doomed. “How long do I gotta avoid the water? How far does this shit see into the future? There’s gotta be a cap, right?” Its voice became more and more strained as it went on, the stress evident in its expression. “Right?!”

—

The smug, know-it-all confidence; the proud way he carried himself – it was almost sad watching all of that turn inside out, real fear swirling around Levi’s eyes as he was likely processing his fate. He was a bit of a jerk, one of Regan’s least favorite kinds of people, but she still didn’t want to see him be herded toward death like this. And she certainly didn’t want to be the shepherd, either.

“I was told it doesn’t work that way,” Regan said with what felt like misplaced authority, “there’s no escaping it. You can try. You won’t succeed. Your death will still come for you, and those who attempt to out maneuver it suffer greatly.” She paused, eyes flicking toward her sandy shoes. “That’s what I’ve, um, heard.” But of course, she couldn’t blame him – couldn’t blame anyone – for wanting to escape their own death when they knew about it ahead of time. What was the damn point of knowing, otherwise? Regan thought she understood it all now, but Levi wouldn’t. “I wouldn’t fault you for trying. But I would not advise it.” She sighed deeply, the opposite of Levi’s ragged, panicked breathing. “I’ve also heard that most pr– most of these. They come to pass within a week. There are probably outliers, but I don’t know that you would want to be one. Fearing death around every corner for weeks or months or years.”

She was no good at comforting people. Wasn’t good at it in medical school, wasn’t good at it with next of kin, and wasn’t good at it in situations like this. But she couldn’t just let Levi suffer, drowning in the dark pool of his thoughts, as she stood there trying to pretend like none of it happened. “Levi,” she met his eyes, wondering if that would calm or alarm him more, “I will help you, if you want. If you need anything. With–” your affairs. Best not to say that. “How about a drive home, to start?”

—

As quickly as it had arrived, the panic seemed to plateau. The inexperience with these emotions that came with being human, Levi often failed to see them all the way through. That, and it hated the way it felt when it was afraid. Waking up in the middle of a summoning circle of spellcasters, disoriented and lost, Levi had felt fear for the first time. Then, it had intermingled with rage. Now, despair. Despair was newer. Hopelessness. It stilled the creature’s thundering heart, bringing it back to a reasonable pace after it spent several moments staring blankly ahead.

Regan was speaking, explaining, but the ringing in its ears drowned it out as the harsh reality of its situation clawed up its legs like little demonic fingers, ready to drag it down into the abyss. Something about not fighting it. Something about fearing death for the rest of its life.

“Fuck,” it breathed, refocusing its gaze on her. She’d offered something. A ride? A— “Sure.” It took a moment for Levi to remember where it lived, head shaking as the word resisted to manifest on its tongue. “... lighthouse,” it finally muttered. “It’s the—the abandoned lighthouse.” Not so abandoned anymore, though most people didn’t know that.

—

The lighthouse. She knew of someone who lived there. Interesting, but not the time to ask. “That’s fairly close, if you mean the one over there.” Regan nodded her head in the direction of the lighthouse, the tip of it peeking out above the rock cliff even from this angle. She surveyed Levi once more, not liking the way his stare became vacant and his mind seemed to be sputtering with complicated emotions he likely was not used to. “Here,” Regan said with a sigh, extending a veiny hand, “if you need it.” Deirdre would have said predicting this death was her purpose, the highest calling for their kind. The coyote would have told her that it was a piece of her servitude to it, a way to improve her skills so she could prepare for what needed to be done. Kaden would have been concerned, would have asked if she was alright, but somewhere in the pit of his stomach would be a lump of fear about his own abbreviated lifespan. So what did she think? What did Regan think? She looked down at her hand once more, extending it a little further. “I will try to help you.” Whether that meant offering support as he neared the end of his life, or helping him avoid an early grave, perhaps it didn’t matter.

#. para ;#. para ; wail watching #. with ; r. kavanagh #wickedswriting

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mrs-steve-harrington · 1 year

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Thank you for tagging me @elder-flower! Not sure what this is going to look like by the time I reach the end of it, but I'm gonna try and have fun along the way :D

Rules: post the top 5 works you’re most proud of that you released in 2022 (not necessarily your most popular), your top 4 current WIPs that you’re excited to release in the new year, your top 3 biggest improvements in your writing over the past year, your top 2 resolutions (ways you wish to improve your writing/blog) for the new year, and your number 1 favorite line you’ve written this year!

TOP 5 WORKS - not in any particular order

Sleeves - A very self-indulgent Antwan/Keys ficlet I wrote towards the beginning of the year. I remember that, at the time, I thought I was already pretty much done writing Free Guy fic. Writing it at all had been more about getting a different fic to no longer show up under Recent Works on my ao3 dash. Then the idea for this struck me one day while rolling up the sleeves on a button down shirt I don't often wear. It was a lot of fun to write (who knew wrist touching could be so sexy??) and I'm still really proud of it, tbh.

as long as you'll have me - This Steve/Nancy ficlet was written for my pre-July Flash Bingo card. It didn't get much attention, but before season 4 aired, Stancy fic got basically none anyway (and even less when using the Dead by Daylight stuff), so that was expected. I still like it, though. It's not very long, but it has some of my favorite angst in it with Steve being sure Nancy is only kissing him because he's familiar in this strange, dangerous dimension they've ended up in. idk, I just dig it!

Don't Hurt Me - This is a Steve/Nancy ficlet that I wrote for 2021's fandomtrees, but of course it wasn't revealed until January of this year (and I think I probably actually only finished it right before reveals anyway haha). I'd been wanting to write a stancy soulmate au for @stevethehousewife and came across the idea of soulmates being unable to physically harm each other while trying to come up with ideas. I wondered how that might change the alley scene in s1 and started going from there. Again it's Stancy so it didn't get much in the way of attention, but I'm really happy with how it turned out! Plus, there can literally never be too many soulmate fics for any of my ships.

The Craziest Things Happen in Hawkins - A general (no ships), Steve-centered ficlet written for the July Break Bingo that I just really like! It doesn't really have an ending because I couldn't get to one in the time limit (and I was determined to get a BINGO before the month ended). But I don't really care about that. It has exactly what I wanted in it: protective Steve sacrificing himself so that Joyce doesn't get hurt (and so that Jonathan and Will and El don't lose someone important to them so soon after Hopper's death). I'm especially fond of Steve acting like his dad will totally pay a ransom for him when he knows it's a lie, and also knows he probably won't make it back from this. I just don't get to write protective Steve enough because I have too much fun with angsty Steve, but this was great!

Answering Your Call - My first written and published ABO fic! Of course it would be for Stranger Things and Jonathan/Steve/Nancy. I'd have it no other way. This was originally written for an event in the 30+ Fic Writers discord server I'm in (though I never added it to that collection because the people there are lovely and tend to comment on event fics even in fandoms they don't know and I didn't want anyone to feel pressured into reading it if they wouldn't have normally gravitated towards it). I've always been too intimidated by ABO stuff because there's so much of the au that squicks me, and I still have trouble articulating what I want from it myself. But I loved getting to write protective alpha Nancy and Super Growly and Protective Jonathan refusing to let omega Steve get hurt. There's that touch of angst that I love (and would make even angstier if I ever continued with it), but also some comfort and idk, it's just good stuff imo.

TOP 4 CURRENT WIPS - also in no particular order

Steve presents as an omega late (Stoncy) - A fic where Steve always secretly hoped he would present as an omega because he liked the idea that he might be wanted, might be taken care of, might be able to have children and a big family after feeling very alone in his own family. And he does eventually present as an omega, but it happens post-S4 and rather than cause any problems for everyone, he keeps it a secret. That way none of the kids feel bad about moving on after high school, and the adults won't worry about someone needing to stick around either because he's keeping an eye on things. (People do not see omegas as weak, just important and they wouldn't want him stuck with the weight alone).

The real meat of the fic won't start until after all of this, when he goes into crisis after his body starts rejecting his suppressants and Nancy and Jonathan are brought in to help him, resulting in the three of them forming a bond while he's in heat (but without the non/dub-con sex that accompanies this sort of thing usually) and him angsting about forcing them into something they couldn't have wanted (but of course the three of them having been pining for each other for YEARS).

soulmate au (Stoncy) - Siiiiiigh. The very same soulmate au I've been working on since, idk, 2019 or 2020 or something. A long ass time. But while unsuccessfully trying to get it finished for Fandom Trumps Hate this year, I ended up figuring out how to get to the ending. It's just a matter of actually writing the damn thing. There's only gonna be 3 Stoncy readers left by then, but whatever. This is still the most self-indulgent fic I've ever worked on and I love it so much. I want other people to be able to read it!!

anything (anything) for you part 2 (Stoncy) - Another wip that has been in the works for a long, long time. Two more chapters are written, but I've been stuck on Chapter 4 for over a year or something. But I've brainstormed with a couple of friends and I think I have a solid idea for where it should go. I dug myself into a bit of a hole with their relationship and it took a while to figure out how Nancy and Jonathan could possibly find out that Steve was faking his feelings for Jonathan in desperation to keep being allowed to date Nancy, without them ending things. But it should be good. Just another thing that I have to actually try to write, which is unfortunately the hardest part.

Deal with Vecna (Vecna/Steve) - A fic where, in the aftermath of hearing some harsh things about himself, Steve decides to try and trade his life for Max's because then at least he'll have done something to help. Only Vecna decides he'd rather have Steve's body than take his life. I've gotten the whole first part done, but I'm still struggling with where I want it to go and whether or not Steve should be saved.

3 BIGGEST IMPROVEMENTS

None! I may have actually gotten worse at both writing AND finishing things!! But it was a really hard year of writing for me. It's whatever!

TOP 2 RESOLUTIONS

Post at least 1 fic per month next year. This year I went through a stretch where I didn't post anything for a whole month (maybe two?) and it fucked with my mentally and emotionally. I hate it. So I would like to try and keep that from happening again!!

Be even MORE self-indulgent. If only a handful of people are gonna enjoy my stuff anyway, I might as well put everything I like into a fic without taking other people into consideration (I say knowing full well this will not happen but I can dream).

NUMBER 1 FAVORITE LINE

You don't even want to know how many fics I skimmed through to try and find any lines that worked well on their own. Not even sure how much this one does. But it stood out to me and I don't think it's too shabby.

— Every step of the way, some part of him is touching Keys' arm—the ends of his fingers as he holds him in place, the knuckles of his thumbs when he tugs the material taut.

Tagging: @stevethehousewife @urisarang @readythefanons @tkwritesdumbassassins

#thanks for tagging me!#tag game #my fic #my writing

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backslashdelta · 2 years

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I considered talking a little more broadly about why them being fanon rather than canon appeals to me, because that is part of it too

Hi hi I am curious about this from your kurtbastian ask :)

Alright so I have tried to answer this so many times, and every time I end up not being able to put it into words the way I want to. So, I'm gonna try one more time, and I'm going to answer this ask if it kills me lmao. But I guess just know that I may not be articulating my thoughts in exactly the way I would like to, so sorry about that. I'm also going to put the main answer under a cut, because it's long and rambly and, like I said, I didn't do a great job articulating my thoughts haha.

Disclaimer: I'm going to be talking a lot in generalizations. I definitely understand that not everybody thinks this way, and even those who agree with some things may not agree with others. So, just, yeah. Not trying to paint everyone with one brush. Just presenting my own personal views and perspective and what I have seen in my fandom experience.

TL;DR: All fiction is made up, none of this is real, do what you want, and "well at least my ship was canon" is not the insult that you think it is because people who love fanon ships are very well aware that our ships were not canon (and oftentimes we aren't even wishing for them to be anyway).

When I see people bringing up the differences between canon and fanon ships, I feel like it tends to be from a perspective of how you should kind of... respect, canon ships? And I get it, I think. If something is canon, it has development you can see and work with, there are relationship flaws that maybe aren't the nicest bu they're there and they're canon, and on top of that it can just be the victim of bad writing as well unfortunately. In comparison, if a ship is completely fanon, you can just make up whatever the hell you want and make them perfect (not necessarily perfect in the "no flaws" sense, but perfect in the "right flaws" sense, if that makes sense). And that's not wrong. You can make up whatever the hell you want for a fanon ship.

With a fanon ship, you have the characters to work from, but you don't know how they would act in a relationship. You can guess, and that guess can be reasonably well informed depending on the source material and how much you know about each character individually and any relationships they've had with other characters. But you don't really know how they would behave in a relationship with each other.

In canon, you know. Because you see them. That happens on screen and you see their relationship and how they interact, for better and for worse. You can completely make things up, if you want, but in general that's not something most people would want to do, and that's understandable because usually people like the ship because of the dynamics they see in the source material.

So I think a lot of people take those differences, and they put canon ships on a higher level because you are working with the source material, which feels more "real," as opposed to fanon ships where you're just making up their entire relationship basically from nothing.

And... I kind of get it. I do. Because in fandom we build off the source material, we're writing meta and creating transformative works and that requires something to base these things on, right? But I think where it falls apart for me is that none of this is real. The writers of *insert media of your choice here* created your favourite ship from nothing! That's no more real than the many fanon ships that also (don't) exist, these are all imaginary characters and imaginary relationships. It's not less good to have more imagination or headcanons or whatever involved in making the ship you enjoy work, in my opinion. I mean, obviously don't tell people who like canon ships that their ship is worse either, because it's not, I think it's really so cool to be able to work with that established relationship and build and extrapolate from that, appreciate the good writing that we were given and figure out how they would act in new and different circumstances. But that's not more real than putting a fanon ship in different circumstances as well.

I don't want to speak for everyone who prefers a fanon ship, but to give a little more insight into my feelings, I think it comes down to a couple things. One, is that the canon ship I feel the most strongly about, I also have not-insignificant issues with some aspects of it. You might say, "Well Bella, you said it's all imaginary, so can't you just pretend those issues aren't there?" and the answer would be yes, I can and I do lol, that's how I still enjoy the ship. But I don't think that would be enough on it's own. The second part is where the fanon ship comes in; is there another potential pairing who have demonstrated or have the potential to have a more interesting (to me) dynamic than my favourite canon ship? They might not have a canon relationship but if they've interacted, or if they both have enough development for you to be able to guess how they might interact, that can be intriguing and something worth exploring.

There's something really nice about having a fairly blank slate to work with, too. I think people look at that as a flaw of fanon relationships (or not so much a flaw, but more a criticism of why they're "less good"), but I just really don't agree. I like the freedom of being able to do whatever I want without having their canon relationship hanging over it. It's just such a different experience from shipping a canon ship. I love that it means I have to figure out how I think they would act and interact in certain scenarios, and I don't have a lot of canon information to go from. It's kind of a fun thinking exercise? I like writing and coming up with stories and I guess it's part of that, maybe, I feel like I have more opportunities to be creative, and this is important, in the ways that I enjoy being creative. Because there are lots of ways to be creative while enjoying canon ships, too, they're just kind of different. And that's really what it comes down to, and I'm not sure how else to say it haha.

I feel like I didn't do a great job explaining this, but I don't think I'm going to get anything better by waiting longer to answer, so I think this is just what it is. It's difficult because I really do think it's so subjective and such an individual thing. With canon ships you have more of a foundation to work from and build off, and there's something so wonderful about that. With fanon ships, you have less of that, but I think it's still wonderful to take these small bits and pieces that weren't meant to go together, and see what happens if you try to combine them. It's just so different, different in the way you need to think about it and different in the way you enjoy it, and sometimes nothing in canon feels quite right for you but a different combination of characters just speaks to you, and there's nothing wrong with enjoying that if it's what you like. Just don't shit on other people for liking something else and it's all good.

TL;DR: All fiction is made up, none of this is real, do what you want, and "well at least my ship was canon" is not the insult that you think it is because people who love fanon ships are very well aware that our ships were not canon, and oftentimes we aren't even wishing for them to be anyway.

#ask #fandom #mine #md-drawz #finally answering this thank you for your patience <3

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thenexuscollective · 4 months

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Hey uh, we just wanted to offer some support to y'all.

We struggled a bit with that vent post (both with understanding exactly what you meant and also having feelings about it) but because of that we did just... scroll past.

I think what's important is that we are all against bigotry and for inclusion and liberation of ALL plurals, and like... it can be hard in a community when there's so much focus on the cruelty (whether it's coming from inside or outside the community), even if the focus on it is for the purpose of fighting it.

You're allowed to have big feelings about it, you're allowed to struggle to articulate them (idk if you feel like that's what's going on, just adding it in case since it's often something we need to hear), and you're allowed to express it in ways that aren't always perfect and may be messy.

We're still not sure we fully understand the vent post, but we don't have to in order to support you. Our inbox is open (well, not sure what the settings are, but send us an ask if you wanna talk and we can message you in any case) and if you want a nonjudgmental ear to vent to, we're here.

You're welcome to publish this OR answer it privately OR not answer it at all, we just wanted to offer some reassurance since like, it seems like you're having a hard time and could use some support.

We hope things get easier. <2

(Also I hope we worded this well, we're very worried about unintentionally coming off like an asshole despite trying our hardest not to because tone in text is really freaking hard! 😅)

umh. dang we entirely missed that ask. when did ya send it? also do you have us blocked?? because we can't access your account at all./gen srs info gq nm just confused

also for the record, that vent post was NOT supposed to get that much traction, or be seen at all. the only reason we tagged this as syscourse was for people to be able to block the negativity since that/these specific topic(s) are often triggering for a lot of people in the community, ironically including ourselves./srs

so like, frankly, no offense, none of us really cares what feelings that brought to anyone. it wasn't supposed to be a MESSAGE to anyone, let alone be perceived that much (although in hindsight, we don't regret it that it was). and we don't know if the feelings you're talking about are good or bad (we can't really understand your tone here, plus you left out some context/info), but regardless this was NOT the goal of that post. that post frankly wasn't meant for anything else than for one or some of us letting some thoughts out at i-dont-know-how-late in the morning while being sick and bottled up feelings rose from the pressure of outerbody life events and personal issues affecting many individuals within the system. so if you saw this post and got feelings from it (especially if neg), we're sincerely sorry/gen, since that was not what it was meant for/, but that is on you./srs

Also thanks for the kind gesture (if it was one?), but we have no way to contact you since your account is probably either deactivated or have us blocked(?). Honestly this is far from the first time with us dealing with anything related to that, we've been in (distant) contact with the community since years and way before officially joining tumblr. So these are thoughts, opinions, and emotions cumulated from a lot of experiences (often neg in context of syscourse). But we appreciate positivity whenever we see it <3 /gen

#getting asked stuff #systemhood #lore #our system #the void talks #the void posts

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himesona · 2 years

Text

AMC IwtV Ep. 1 Mini Review and Spoilers

As a lot of you know, I am a longtime Vampire Chronicles fan. The books were extremely formative for me and I easily consider Anne Rice amongst my top 10 favorite authors. I owe her a lot for my love of vampires, writing, and ridiculous amounts of purple prose.

After seeing how many changes they made in the trailers alone, I went into the show with a fair amount of trepidation. Would it be good? Would it be recognizable as at least an homage to this incredible book? Would I be able to watch the entire thing?

Thankfully, I was pleasantly surprised.

Ep 1. Final Thoughts: a lot of changes, but none that I'm necessarily even mad about yet. There's been a lot of nuance added that's been handled interestingly. I feel like they've very successfully managed to capture what it feels like to read a Rice book - the beauty, the repulsion, the constant struggle of good vs. evil, man vs. god, belief vs. sin.

Where the show really shines so far is Loustat’s compellingly toxic and eternally codependent intimacy. I’m so happy to see their relationship so explicitly shown as romantic in nature, no room for questioning it. While they've always been unquestionably queer to a queer audience, it's refreshing to see it directly expressed and mentioned by name. I could cry.

Overall, a fantastic pilot. I wonder what She would think of it if She saw it.

The leads are astounding in their roles, but Lestat's especially shines. I don’t think I can picture another actor in his place ever again. He so fully encapsulates exactly what Lestat is - a selfish, covetous predator with a predilection for beauty. An inexplicable need to defile in the name of love. A draw the likes of which are not easily resisted. He really is the Devil, as much as he would deny it.

Or at least, he is Louis' Devil. As we all know, Louis has never been an unbiased narrator (not that either of them have).

That is not to say that Louis’ is any slacker at all. His scene in the confessional was so gorgeous and emotionally charged: “I run to the bottle. I run to the grift. I run to bad beds. I-I laid down with a man. I laid down with the Devil. And he has roots in me, all his spindly roots in me, and I can't think nothin' anymore but his voice and his words!”

Louis’ struggle with his messy humanity and morality is then almost immediately followed by Lestat’s savage display. His aching, manipulative love confession: “The first time I laid eyes on you, your beautiful face, I saw that sorrow. I did not know how it got there or why it was so voluminous. I can take away that sorrow, Louis. I can give you that death you begged your feeble, blind, degenerate, nonexistent god for…You just have to nod your beautiful head...and say yes.”

“I love you, Louis. You are loved. I send my love to you, and you send it back round to me.”

On another note, the show itself is beautiful beyond the prose and relationships. I wasn't too sure about the time period, but it's done so gorgeously. The decision to change Louis’ identity doesn't feel like some arbitrary bid for representation (I rankle at arguments like that anyway, but that's not the point here). Louis was very thoughtfully made a wealthy black man in the early 1900s.

This paints New Orleans in a very different light than Louis the slaveholder saw, but it is not a less full or lush version for it. There is love in these choices, in the setting, in the time period. I feel like someone who loved these books as much as I and many other fans did put this show together.

It's so hard to articulate everything I'm feeling. Needless to say - I'll be eagerly awaiting next week's episode. I'm so glad I gave it a chance.

#lillu talks #iwtv tv

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oldandkinky · 2 years

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I've been trying for a while now to articulate what exactly bothers me about S2 and why I'm not motivated to write anything based on it, and someone put it into words in a Discord today.

I've also seen posts about Burn Butcher Burn again, and I have thoughts about that, too.

The thing about S2 that bugs me the most is this: the first half of Jaskier's arc is extremely serious and has a lot of emotional depth. He has a very touching heart to heart with Yennefer, there is the torture, and Joey gets to act.

Then Geralt shows up.

The first confrontation is, again, very emotional. And then it all goes downhill. Nobody ever mentions his injuries - those fingers must be blistered, there's possibly exposed flesh. Have none of the writers ever touched a hot stovetop or a clothes iron? Burns take forever to heal and hurt like hell.

From that point on, Jaskier is once more reduced to (badly written) comic relief and running gag. His trauma is never addressed in any fashion by anyone, he is constantly drinking and obviously left to himself at KM, and his comedic moments felt forced and shoehorned in. He does nothing at all of consequence. Sure, Geralt tells him to take Ciri to KM (which does show trust I suppose), but is he actually needed? I would say no. The stone wasn't needed, he doesn't interact with anyone except Lambert who basically tells him to go fuck himself, and that's it.

I have very complicated feelings about their reunion. Jaskier is obviously still hurt but he is immediately willing to join Geralt again. Sure, he makes a production of it, but there's never any real hesitation. But I don't know if I believe that Geralt understands just how badly he has hurt Jaskier with his accusations. His apology felt very flat to me. I didn't expect him to grovel, as some people have called it, but an "I need you" (which never manifests in anything concrete and feels a bit like something Geralt says to justify having Jaskier back) and that "I'm sorry" from atop NewRoach felt dismissive to me.

I can understand Geralt blowing his top on the mountain. He was hurt and stressed and reeling from everything that had happened. But imo the way he spoke to Jaskier was deliberate. He took all of his own mistakes and blamed them on Jaskier. Was Jaskier the facilitator of these events? Yes. Did he hold a gun to Geralt's head and make him say the third wish/claim the LoS etc? He didn't, those were all choices Geralt made, and telling Jaskier that he never brought him anything but trouble was designed to hurt as much as possible.

Yes, Jaskier inserted himself into Geralt's life and he made a profit off of it - but so did Geralt, and nobody can tell me he couldn't have gotten rid of/avoided Jaskier - who was, let's remember, an 18yo nobody when they met - if he had truly wanted to.

If there was a transactional relationship between them, it definitely went both ways.

The show doesn't address any of this. Jaskier has a very public breakdown about everything, Geralt makes sad puppy eyes at him, and everything is superficially forgiven.

Which, I guess, brings me to the song.

There were definitely choices made here, and none of them were particularly good (except musically, because it is a good song). But I absolutely can see Jaskier writing and meaning this, in that first period of time after the mountain. He was deeply hurt, and let's face it, he is a horrible little man. He wished for someone to die for no apparent reason and for the Countess to love him, for fuck's sake. He's impulsive and vindictive. Something like Burn Butcher Burn is very in character in the heat of the moment, in my opinion. Geralt went for the throat, so he shall do the same.

However.

I think he regrets it. I'm not holding my breath for any sort of meaningful conversation about this in the future in the show, because the writers just aren't willing to give us that, but I would hope he'd explain himself to Geralt, if it ever came to that.

But I think that's where my and many book fans' especially interpretation differs so greatly. Book fans tend to look at Geralt through the lens of book!Geralt's view of himself and his relationship to Dandelion, but I think that is a hindrance here. The whole problem is that this is just not an adaptation, even if the showrunners call it that. It is, at best, based on, but in reality more inspired by. The relationship is so fundamentally different that to say "Dandelion would never" is meaningless.

Book!Geralt's relationship to others is, imo, in many respects defined by his insecurities and belief that he's somehow unworthy. Nx!Geralt doesn't, to me, appear to have those same issues. His relationship to Jaskier is never shown to be based on affection. It's implied that they're friends but we're not shown that they are. Every interaction they have is undercut by long suffering sighs from Geralt who seems to tolerate him despite not liking him all that much.

Fans filled in so much that the show just leaves out, because the show didn't give us any other option. If they're friends, Geralt's words were incredibly cruel. If they're not, Jaskier's reaction is over the top. Both can't be true.

I've seen a lot of people say "have you never had a fight with a friend before" to those defending Jaskier after S1, and personally I can say that, if a friend ever said something like that to me, even in state of heightened emotion, yeah, no, I wouldn't want to be friends any more.

I don't know. This is long-winded and rambly. I liked quite a bit about S2 and disliked even more of it. I'm not hopeful that any of the issues the writing had will be solved, or that the quality will get better. I'll just... stay over here and hope for the best without believing in it, I suppose.

#oldandkinky #oldandkinky talks #the witcher #jaskier #geralt of rivia #witcher netflix #ranting #rant post #witcher netflix critical #this is long and doesn't really have a point #just thoughts

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

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RE8 Ladies + S/o with chronic pain HCs

Type/cause of chronic pain is kept ambiguous, but some of the hcs might seem geared towards migraines, since that's the main thing that I personally struggle with (and these are very definitely comfort hcs). Features Alcina, Bela, Cassandra, Daniela, Donna, Mother Miranda, and as a 'lil bonus Ava. Not particularly long, but the combined length of every character is enough to be put under a read-more (About 2,500 words in total).

Alcina:

It’s difficult for her to know that you are suffering, but be unable to deal directly with the source of the problem. Chasing off unwanted nuisances or hunting down threats to the castle was one thing, trying to solve complicated medical issues was another thing entirely. If only she could tear your condition asunder without tearing you asunder.

That being said, she’ll still support you endlessly, however she can. It doesn’t matter how expensive or hard-to-access possible treatments are. If there’s something you haven’t tried, and are interested in trying, she’ll find a way for you to get it.

The biggest, and arguably most helpful, thing that she does is set up a space for you within her office. She spends quite a lot of time there for her family’s business, but doesn’t want to leave you alone on bad days. So this was her idea of a nice compromise.

There’s a very comfortable sofa that folds out, a cabinet filled with the softest blankets, and several pillows of a few different sizes. Servants are instructed not to interrupt Alcina’s work without good reason, but she has a couple who ensure your snack cabinet is always well stocked.

If there are certain environmental factors to your condition, such as sensitivity to light and sound, she does her best to reduce their effects. Lights remain dimmed (or she’ll rely on candlelight), her music will be kept quiet enough to be soothing, and she’ll refrain from taking any calls while you are with her.

Bela:

To think that Daniela once tried to claim that Bela would “never need to know any of that (medical) stuff”! Sure, there haven’t been many people who have needed (and received) treatment from her, but that didn’t mean the skill was useless. Admittedly, she doesn’t know enough to replace one of your doctors, or try to create her own version of a cure, though no one really expected that much from her.

Still, she knows enough to help soothe your pain. Obviously there are different techniques for different kinds of pain, and she does research before trying anything specific. Bela’s also aware that you’ve been dealing with this for far longer than she has, meaning that you probably wouldn’t be pleased if she came in, acted like an expert, or assumed that you hadn’t really thought about the most popular remedies. So she’s tactful with how she approaches things, always checking if you’re familiar with a subject before she tries to explain anything.

Bela ends up surprising you with a lesser-known skill of hers: Massage. Studying anatomy has given her a decent idea of the body’s more sensitive spots, and the rest she’s figured out through her own, ahem, experiences. Regardless of where you’re in pain, your girlfriend can help reduce your suffering. Okay, well, if your pain is more internal than external, it’s a bit harder for her, but she can still help you relax.

One of her favorite things to do after giving you a massage is to just pull you in close for some cuddling. Preferably you’ll be in her lap, with her arms around your waist, her chin tucked on top of your shoulder. Then she’ll do her best to whisper you praises, reminding you how strong you are, and that she’s incredibly proud of you.

Cassandra:

She’s, uh, not great at this. At least not at first. Maybe she’ll never be more than good at it, though. But she’s definitely trying! And learning! By Jove, that’s something, right?

First things first, she’s always ready to try to distract you, primarily through kisses and gentle touches. Fingers softly trailing over your skin, lips tickling your neck, featherlight in all the right places… It’s not inherently sexual (though it can quickly go that route if you ask), just intimate. It’s harder for your brain to process pain when you’re also processing pleasure, so there is some science behind Cassandra’s methods, even if she herself isn’t entirely aware of that.

While she’s not great with words, there are certain things that she manages to articulate well enough. For one, she makes sure you know that you aren’t a burden. Taking care of you- no, helping you take care of yourself- is a labor of love, if a labor at all. More than that, she knows full well that you probably don’t like feeling pitied, or coddled. That, over time, being sick ends up being beyond frustrating. She never wants you to feel like your condition defines you, or like it puts any strain on your relationship.

That said, she’ll avoid telling her family any specifics unless you do first, and ensures that the staff know how to accommodate you (without telling them why, because it’s none of their fucking business, and she’s their boss, and for fuck’s sake it’s their job to do what she tells them. Maybe she gets a lil bit overzealous with it). At no point will she ever complain about helping you, or otherwise indicate that your needs are “troublesome”.

At the end of the day, the best comfort she brings you is her presence, simply being near you, endlessly loyal, tireless in her affections. Especially considering she gets clingier the worse your symptoms get.

Daniela:

Hope you enjoy cuddling. Seriously. There’s nothing Daniela loves more than curling up with you, and that goes double for bad pain days. Some adjustments will be made position-wise if you need, but she’ll still hold you as close as possible, for as long as you need. Although she might eventually fall asleep (because damn are you comfy), she’ll play with your hair or run her fingers along your scalp until she eventually dozes off.

If you want a little more from her than light snoring, or if she feels like going above and beyond, or honestly just if she’s thinking about how much she loves you (so all the effing time), she’ll do something she’s always loved in movies/books: Reading to you! She’ll pick special books that neither of you have read before, so you can experience them together on your sick(er) days. Which does, of course, mean that it might take months to finish even a single one. Surprisingly, Daniela won’t even briefly consider reading any without you. Even if the plot is really good.

But, uh, if you wanted her to read to you on a day where you aren’t bedridden? Hell yes, my friend, she’s absolutely down for that!

On days where she’s too busy to spend hours upon hours in bed with you, or days where her ADHD is just particularly bad, she tries her best to leave you with a “substitute”. AKA a massive fucking teddy bear, in a reddish brown color, with a green bowtie. Custom ordered (The Duke did not dare tease her for it). There’s a heart stitched onto the stuffed animal’s chest, which features your first initial alongside a D for Daniela.

Additionally, she has a blanket she only brings out for you, which she periodically sprays with her favorite perfume. That way you can hold it close when she’s not around, as if you were cuddling her. For her sake, though, don’t hold the teddy bear or blanket too tightly when she is around. Homegirl here will get jealous of inanimate objects, even ones that she gave you.

Donna:

“I think I have a tea for this…” Damn right she has a tea for this. Donna has a massive garden, with dozens if not hundreds of different plants, including a variety of herbs/spices. At least one of them has to be a little helpful for you. Whether it relieves pain, helps you nap off some of your misery, or just distracts you by tasting bloody-well delicious! Besides, few things make you feel quite as loved as holding a cup of freshly brewed tea in your hands, knowing your lover made it just for you. Like a hug in a mug, it is!

Similarly to Alcina, Donna will also try to create a comfortable space for you, but isn’t likely to put it downstairs with her workshop. Instead she’ll let you take over one of the larger guest rooms, customizing it to suit your specific needs. There will be some easy to care for plants for decoration (ones that won’t mind potentially missing out on natural sunlight), a couple relaxing paintings, and a shelf near the bed with things to help you pass the time, mainly books.

Furthermore, she’ll do her best to keep you company as often as possible. She’s naturally a fairly quiet person, so you won’t have to worry about sound if that’s something you’re sensitive to. While she prefers using a sewing machine, she’ll do things by hand while you’re in pain, just to reduce the chances of you getting irritated by the sound.

Speaking of potentially irritating sounds… by god can Angie be difficult to be around when you’re ill. Thankfully, Donna is perfectly understanding of this, and, as the only person Angie ever listens to, makes sure to give the doll a stern talking to about your health. To your immense surprise, it actually works. You’re not exactly sure what was said, but Angie certainly becomes a lot more compensating afterwards. She’ll keep her antics to herself, and usually even on another side of the house from where you rest, but only for as long as you’re tucked away in your room. As soon as you set foot outside, her restraints are metaphorically removed. All hell breaks loose (as is her universe-given right as the physical embodiment of both Chaos and Entropy).

Mother Miranda:

If the two of you weren’t lovers, there’s a decent chance you would completely misinterpret her actions. She might come off as irritated, like she has bigger concerns than your health, you fragile little human. After all, she is a goddess (well, practically). But the truth is that she’s aching inside every time you have a bad pain day, knowing that (for once) she cannot cure your ailment. Maybe if she had infinite subjects with the same condition as you…

But, at the end of the day, that’s the problem. There’s only one of you. One of her beloved, her little human darling, so dangerously fragile in comparison to the scale she works on. Even with all the time in the world, which she most certainly has, she cannot cure you without taking incredible risks. With your life at stake… It is a gamble she refuses to take. You are hers, and while she hates to see you suffer, the truth is that she’ll always be selfish enough to let you endure on your own.

That doesn’t mean she doesn’t help, though, just that she doesn't do a full-out experiment on you. Instead, she keeps notes. She’ll track your activities, bedtimes/when you get up, dietary habits, when you have pain, what you do to treat said pain, how effective the treatments are, etc, etc. All of this can be very useful in establishing patterns (a skill she’s gotten very good at, in her many decades of being a scientist), which can in turn lead to less pain days.

(For example, many people with migraines find that certain foods seem to trigger a migraine, or at least increase the chances of getting one. Though admittedly they don’t always end up cutting the food out of their diet. I mean, come on, you want me to give up chocolate? You want me to drink normal milk, like an adult? Kidding, kidding, I don’t have any food triggers. Nor do I particularly enjoy chocolate milk, nor do I dislike it.)

Moving on! While her work seemingly takes precedence over your condition, Miranda is not heartless, and she does do some things to lend you more direct comfort. Specifically, she tries to work in the same room as you when she can, normally while making electronic copies of physical documents, or while looking over the details of a finished experiment. She’s not always one for cuddling, so she won’t often get in bed with you during the daytime. But at night? Yes, fine, she will wrap her arms around you, maybe one of her wings too if you like how soft they are.

Just don’t think that she secretly loves every second. It’s not like she’ll spend half an hour whispering about how sweet and adorable you are as soon as you fall asleep, or anything like that. It’s twenty minutes at the most.

Bonus!Avaskian Caldwell:

“Oh, fuckin’ mood!” Followed by a solid thirty seconds of pure regret. Seriously, though, Ava has spent xer entire life (starting at age 10) dealing with chronic migraines. For a while xe also dealt with POTS (Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome), which meant lots of chest pain, but that (thankfully) faded as xe grew into an adult, as is fairly common with the condition. If anyone in Castle Dimitrescu understands unrelenting, unexplainable pain, it’s xer.

That being said… Ava never really managed xer chronic pain, at least not when xe was at xer worst. Xe had to drop out of school because of it. Hell, xe didn’t have a “real” job until xe was almost 23! Didn’t have a chance until things just calmed down for xer. So xe gets anxious whenever you talk about your health, worried that things are (or will at some point be) as bad for you as they were for xer. Other than that, though, you might initially think that xe doesn’t care, or didn’t understand the conversation.

Truth is, xe knows how absolutely fucking ANNOYING it can be to have to explain your health to every new person you meet (like the dozen different doctors you’ve met over the years, possibly every nurse who takes your pulse and thinks it’s a little bit high). So xe did a shit ton of research on your condition, in order to reduce how much you need to explain. Sure, xe will still have questions, and there are always aspects that only you can tell xer, but it’s a nice gesture.

As for helping you destress, xe’s pretty much a mix of Bela and Miranda. You’ll get plenty of massages (because Ava has learned from personal experience what sort of touches help with which sorts of pain), but also some scientific insight on any noticeable patterns. Lots of holding you close and telling you that you’re the coolest person in the world, and that Ava feels beyond lucky to have you.

#alcina dimitrescu x reader #bela dimitrescu x reader #cassandra dimitrescu x reader #daniela dimitrescu x reader #donna beneviento x reader #mother miranda x reader #oc x reader #avaskian caldwell #j has ocs #re8 village #resident evil: village #hcs

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hobidreams · 3 years

Text

january 1870.

what can you do? what power do you have?

pairing: joseon king!yoongi x reader genre: angst, drama words: 1.3k warning: this drabble contains a form of disordered eating.

moonlit throne index. this is drabble 28. start from the beginning?

“…uinyeo-nim…! …ease wake up…!”

“Can…hear us?”

The world comes back to you somehow piece by piece and all at once.

Words, hurried ones, pierce the haze of darkness that is thick in your mind, tugging you insistently to the surface. You think there are hands on you, taking your temperature from your forehead, checking your pulse, placing a pillow beneath your head. Part of you would like to keep your eyes shut for a little while longer, wanting to rest, but you cannot bear the worry in the familiar voices that call your name over and over and over. Wake up, you think, wake up.

Open your eyes.

In the dim light, the first thing you see is Scholar Park. His face has gone utterly pale, sweat beading down his brow as he frets, biting at a fingernail. But when he realizes you’ve surfaced, his eyes blow wide. He breathes an enormous sigh of relief that turns quickly into a half-delirious smile. “You’re awake!”

“S-Scholar Park…” You try to sit up and it’s a mistake. You feel aches all over; your limbs are slow as if they’re pinned down, made impossibly weighty with fatigue.

A warm hand lands on your shoulder, and you turn to see one of the younger uinyeo, Min-ji, by your side. “Please, stay on the bed, su-uinyeo-nim.”

You nod, settling back as you slowly blink, blink, blink. You don’t remember how you got here. You don’t remember what has happened to make you feel like this, like you’re hollowed out, weak. “But Min-ji, what—”

The door to your room bursts open. Wood scrapes harsh against wood, slamming into its frame.

Your incredulous eyes fall upon the king: the only man who could make such an entrance and demand every ounce of your attention.

“Jeonha!”

Immediately the other two in the room drop into deep bows.

“What the hell is going on here?” He stalks into the room, Eunuch Kim not far behind with concern etched on his features. “What happened?”

Scholar Park is slightly shriveling under the fury of the king’s glare but he manages to say, “we were walking to the library when uinyeo-nim suddenly collapsed. I immediately brought her here with the eunuchs, and called for another uinyeo to treat her. She awoke just a few minutes ago.”

“What?” He whips his head to the side. “You. Why did she collapse?”

Min-ji’s voice is so small as she replies, “I… believe it is fatigue b-brought on by m-malnutrition, jeonha.”

Then Min-ji is shrinking back too, for the king’s scowl grows infinitely at her words. He gives their meaning but a moment to settle in before he bristles. Bares his teeth.

“Let us be alone.”

“Jeonha…” Eunuch Kim starts. You can’t tell if he’s more worried for his charge or for you by the way he casts worried looks between you both.

“Alone.”

It is only after the door shuts behind the others that the king turns on you.

He walks to your bedside until he is close, but he doesn’t touch.

You stare at each other, your labored breaths the only sound in the space until he asks with a low tone, “you have not been eating?” Though he might sound angry, thoroughly annoyed in fact, you think there might be confusion there too. You are silent, so he continues. “Yet, when I ask, the cooks inform me that they have delivered your meals to you as I have instructed. So.” The syllable dips low, dangerous. “Who exactly is the liar here? Who shall get the punishment?”

You… did not realize he kept such a careful eye on you. How much should you reveal? What excuse could you come up with that could spare everyone?

“Not going to answer me? Then I shall have to call someone else. Jin-young. What would she tell me, hm?”

Pressing your lips together, you recognize his subtle look of triumph as you both know you could not drag the beloved cook into this. Your only option left is the truth.

“She… would say that I have... been asking for my meals to be uncooked. That I— I told her I wanted the ingredients to attempt to better my skills in the craft. But instead…” you scrunch the fabric of your skirt tight within your fingers. You take a deep breath, and then confess, “I have been distributing most of the grain, vegetables, and meats to those in town who are in need of it more than I.”

His scowl is so, so deep. “You... have been starving yourself instead?”

“I-I am eating as much as necessary, jeonha.” You don’t tell him that means two small bowls of rice porridge a day.

“Yet you collapsed.”

“I merely overworked myself today, that is all.”

“No. No, I do not accept that excuse. You collapsed. You fell unconscious, due to malnutrition.”

“But jeonha, the famine.” You push yourself onto your elbows. You need him to take you seriously, even as you wince from the action. “The people. The people have so much less than I. Often less than a single grain of rice to pass an entire day and much less any real sustenance to keep them alive. They— they are the truly malnourished here!”

“That is absolutely none of your concern.” Though he never raises his volume to a shout, his tone is no less intense, no less furious as he carefully articulates every word. Biting every damn truth at you. “You are not part of the royal family. You are not responsible for the people like this.”

Rare anger trickles into your veins as you fist your hands. You’ve backed down to him one too many times and this will not be one of them. “I need to do something! Am I meant to just watch them die, jeonha? To pretend that my life is perfect and lavish while I watch them suffer and struggle for want of nothing more than a hot meal?”

“Then would you rather die in exchange?!”

Your breath catches in shock. Your fury tampers down, simmering but not extinguished when faced with his overwhelming intensity, snapped at you as he wraps a firm hand around your arm.

Like a predator, he brings his face mere inches from yours. “I won’t hear of this anymore. You are not to do such things. Do not overstep your position.”

He squeezes you once before he pulls away and proceeds to leave completely, abandoning you to the absolute silence of your room.

You wait three pensive seconds before the door shuts before you let yourself collapse back onto the bed. What little strength you regained feels completely drained from you again. You didn’t mean for him to find out. You had no idea how he’d react but you never thought, never ever thought, that he would actually threaten your life like this. That harsh question repeats in your mind, the implications behind it more exhausting than any fatigue could ever be.

Silly you, to think there’d been a change in all these months. That things between you were progressing and getting back to a point where you could be comfortable with each other again. In the end, you were just deluding yourself. Letting yourself get caught up in the play-pretend that you could be the one to stand by the king’s side instead of the whore at his feet. (“What power do you have?” he asked you all those months ago, his voice abrupt, too coarse as he claimed you. You have none, as he has proved to you yet again. Not even enough to save yourself.)

#ficswithluv #btsghostie #yoongi x reader #min yoongi #yoongi angst #bts angst #bts imagines #bts scenarios #historical au #rain writes #moonlit throne #remember: there are two sides to every coin

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wataeichis · 2 years

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eichi and autism : by an autistic eichiP

autism is majorly separated into a few different symptom categories: socialization, thought and behaviour, and sensory difficulties, as well as some other things - I’ll be going over how I think some of these relate to Eichi, as well as reflecting on parts and how they relate to my experience as an autistic individual. However, it can be difficult to quote stories with them being removed from the wiki, so please bear with me here.

(Prepare for this to make no sense to anyone else, as it was not exactly written in a formal/essay format, nor has it been properly edited at all. this is basically just one long rant)

To start off with socialization: on the wiki, Eichi is described as “clumsy with basic social concepts like friendship, and he is long-winded and dramatic from having socialized mainly with movies and books.” While this can largely be accounted for due to his extended stay in a hospital as a child and away from other kids, I think it’s important to note that a lot of autistic children learn socialization through mimicking media. It can be a habit that kids use to first get a grasp on how you're “supposed” to act, but usually is something people grow out of, which Eichi has not. He still seems to rely on dramatic media he grew up with as a 19 year old in the !! era, as well as being awkward or blunt at times when trying to be “normal.”

It’s difficult for Eichi to understand and get along with other people. Initially, we see this during the war with Tsumugi. He doesn’t realize that Tsumugi truly wanted a friendship with him, and instead assumes he was just there for the money. As well as later on, he doesn’t seem to understand that Wataru wants to truly be his friend, something that could usually be accounted for as simple insecurity, if not for how unusual it seems. The two of them are consistently referred to as being very attached, and have many moments where they detail their closeness for one another, yet Eichi still seems to insist they’re not that close. To me, this feels like another instance similarly to Tsumugi, where he doesn’t realize that they're actually friends..

With socialization comes communication. Though most sources I see say those with autism can have difficulties with speech, myself included at times, I also know from experience that the majority of the oddities in my speech flagged during my own autism assessment was formal speech patterns. This is something I think is interesting to reference since Eichi is rather articulate and formal - however, this isn’t as relevant as it’s also kind of expected from being someone from such a high-class family.

A final aspect I’d like to mention regarding socialization is his line about how he’s never been in love. During my assessment, I was asked if I’d ever been in love, if I knew what love was supposed to feel like, if I knew what people in love were supposed to even do - all of which I’d answered no to. In a largely allistic society it can be difficult to understand what love is supposed to be like, especially when you're surrounded by media that portrays the feeling in a magical sense. Autistic people can often have little to none attraction, or they simply experience it in a different sense to other people. For myself, it feels difficult to label myself as apart of the aroace spectrum, as my lack of attraction feels so tied in with my autistic identity. We don’t know the specifics, but I relate a lot to this line of Eichi’s as he seems to struggle with this attraction, and how connected he is with media surely doesn’t help with how if he does experience love, its different than how the media portrays it.

Going off of that, it seems like part of Eichi’s relationship with media is very connected. He couldn’t think of any other way to accomplish his goal for Yumenosaki without being dramatic and hurting people along the way, which I think fits in with not understanding other people. Despite this, he always does display a greater understanding of media such as plays by often referencing media or understanding others’ references - in a lot of autistic people’s experiences, media is easier to understand than real people.

His thoughts and behaviour are evidently influenced more by media than his own instincts, part of this is easily referenceable on the wiki in his trivia section:

“Eichi has the ability to mimic anything nearly perfectly if he's observed it closely enough, including circus stunts and dance moves. Conversely, Eichi has also remarked that he struggles with being creative.” This statement, along with how earlier it was referenced that he has a habit of being dramatic, it seems a lot of his life has been spent mimicking media or things he comes across, which I referenced being an autistic trait as many autistic people tend to copy things they see to figure out how to act. “Being creative” is a large pointer towards autism for me, as being a top idol you’d assume he’d have more creativity, yet he struggles in a large aspect of it that is mostly a large pointer towards autistic children who struggle to play creatively, and even during my assessment as a 17 year old I had to try and display creative factors, which I generally lacked in.

My reference of “media” here for Eichi can also just be idols in general, such as other things he sees around Yumenosaki and not just idols on TV. After the Tanabata Festival, most easily referenced with the scene in the anime when he is sitting with Wataru, Eichi is displaying this mimicking once more with how he immediately is amazed with Shu’s performance, mimicking the shape of his hands and the sound of the music.

Carrying off of media and onto interests, I’ve seen a few different people have different explanations for what they think could be Eichi’s special interest, two of which I will review.

I’ve seen a theory for tea being his special interest, in the different types of tea and such and that's why he started the tea club. While I do agree this is definitely an interest of his, I think his special interest is more likely the point below

Idols! Eichi loves idols, he always has, and he strives to be a popular idol despite knowing how his physical condition doesn’t quite agree with that. He started the war out of his love for idols, wishing to protect the idol industry by protecting Yumenosaki, a school which is a very influential power in the idol industry, but had been tainted throughout his first year spent in the hospital. After graduation, he didn’t just go on to be an idol, he went on to create a space for idols - Ensemble Square - and his own agency, wanting to spend every hour of his day surrounded by idols. In my experience, allistic people don’t tend to be this intense about their interests, but I could be wrong since… I don’t know what it's like to be allistic! It’s common for autistic people to only stick to their interests, things they enjoy and things that bring them comfort, and it seems very obvious to me that this is something Eichi is doing with idols.

(A little note on interests: autistic people have a habit of info-dumping or monologuing about things they enjoy… which we all should know by now Eichi has a habit of doing.)

Another thing I see in Eichi is a tendency to stick to routine. While he does love Wataru’s surprises, he seems most comfortable sticking to routines in his day-to-day life. “Eichi day”, a day for members of fine to take off and do things, seems to be a planned day, as opposed to impulse plans. While he could easily go and do things with them on a random free afternoon, having a planned day off in advance, he sticks to the comfort of the routine.

Rigid thinking is something easily seen if you look into his actions during the war. Despite admiring the oddballs as idols, he appointed them as the “bad” part of the idol industry and what had lead to the declining quality of Yumenosaki, and saw the student council as the “good” that needed to exist to return the school to it’s prior state. Regardless of how each side has both good and bad factors, as well as any middle ground positions he failed to consider, it’s very obvious he was thinking in a very black and white manner, as both good and bad and nothing as grey, leading him to do what he did during the war.

With autistic people, having a flat/expressionless face is rather common. This is such a small feature, but it’s something I’ve always noticed having Eichi in my office and would like to bring up. In comparison to other characters, Eichi’s office chibi doesn’t appear to be as happy as others do, such as Rei.

In anime, it can be difficult to find characters who seem to display any sensory issues related to autism, regardless of how autistic-coded they may seem otherwise. However, one thing comes to mind with Eichi. In the anime, when he’s sat beside Yuzuru and watching the Ryuseitai performance, he’s rocking back and forth. This could be a subconscious action, something he doesn’t realize he’s doing as he’s distracted but may usually try and repress, but I always found this scene delightful for that. It’s a common stim for me, and regardless of why Eichi is doing it, it's always lovely to see.

Disclaimer: this is not a complete list, nor is it definitive. I personally see a lot of my own symptoms in Eichi and wanted to share what I’ve been seeing as some food for thought for other people. Don’t come for me if you interpreted any of this as something else or think I’m wrong I’m not here for criticism thanks this is purely self indulgent

#ant talks #enstars #ensemble stars #eichi tenshouin #tenshouin eichi #autism #im not accepting criticism hes autistic to me and i know him best

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