#i just can’t reread it anymore or else i get really like critical and for good reason but bleh
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𝒎𝒊𝒂'𝒔 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕 𝒃𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒃𝒔: parenthood (3).
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: parenthood means stress, and endurance, and exhaustion, and learning curves, and ... sometimes, really, really, really good sex?
𝐚/𝐧: this is my Parenthood (Thought) Piece because i understand that i am mentally 30 but i llloooooooooooveeee a good domesticity concept i eat that shit up nnomnomnonmonmnom. i needed to talk about early parenthood with ellie and i needed to talk about some of the ... Alternate Consequences ... of early parenting .. if you will. this was fun. this was also composed between the hours of like, 2-4am. i think it's pretty literate, and kind of alright. you may have a fun time reading it. if you don't, sorry i'll venmo you a dollar. not ssssure if i really have anything else to say, honestly. proofread (at a very early hour, mind you) but i always make mistakes, i'll always edit over time.
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: i understand these tags are like super weird and i always preface my fics like "fuck around and find out," but just to be clear, this fic does not sexualize children in any way. any way. just to really make that clear. mentions of you and ellie being engaged. joel's technically alive. mentions of children. parental uncertainty. stress. a little bit of sub bottom!ellie. we're dipping our toes in. also dom top!ellie. mentions of oral (both receiving), mentions of vaginal penetration (reader receiving). both ellie and the reader being milfs / ellie thinking its really hot how you are a good mom (there are still so many things in this category that i could've hit that im probably not even thinking of, so if y'all like this and wanna talk about them, Please talk to me) i write in past tense for literally all of it and this is just a me thing, but that's not really my style, so things may be .. off. or maybe it's just me. maybe i'm tripping. we'll see. it's like, 4am. so.
𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 4.1k, just about (i did too much).
. . . .
you both lived on the farm. it was a quiet, proud little life that you lead. a picturesque actualization of all of the little thoughts and dreams that you and ellie have had about living together, about having a family. though, parenthood was new, and difficult. there were some nights that the baby wouldn't stop crying, and both of you would take turns feeling like shit -- one usually at a grander magnitude than the other -- because neither of you would know what to do. what, am i like, a bad mom? does he hate me? you spent time convincing each other that that is simply not the case, and that this was all part of the process. that you were both new, and learning, and that it's okay.
if you knew nothing else, whether that be due to not having experienced parenthood before or the delirium accompanying the heavy set bags and dark circled ruminating under both of your eyes, then you did know that there were a few things for certain: he will suck his thumb. his cries will turn to wails which will turn to sniffles, which will turn to sighs. he will get tired. he will roll over, and coo, and will go to sleep.... eventually.
granted, while this mentality in general made things easier throughout the early days of raising your newborn son, there was still no doubt that it was.. exhausting. in every way. parenting was a constant learning curve, and it took tolls on both of you in different ways. for ellie, she'd get quiet. snippy, even, and gain a little bit too much audacity at times. a snarky remark or demonstration of blatant impatience towards something minuscule, but still hurtful. her frustration would always point toward some deeper issue that she often struggled met with annoyance first, and words second. one of the first things that ellie learned while parenting was that she was really bad at communicating. she'd find herself throughout the first three, maybe even six months, constantly finding ways to say sorry.. even without saying really having said it. like, slipping into bed when after you'd finally went to sleep, and pressing kisses to your temple. or making sure the dishrack was completely empty, so you'd have one less thing to work about. albeit she struggled to verbally explain that while she understood you were too, she was just.. a little tired.
maybe it was the sleep deprivation, or her willingness to take up most of the tasks that required attention in areas other than just the inside of the home. which.. you did have to admit, were a little bit more intense than cleaning and washing dishes. no one asked her to do all of that. she took it upon herself to do extraneous tasks, like fix the fucking roof, during the peak of summer. and you'd always offer to help, truly. but it was always no, i've got it. you've got other stuff to do. you just go play with him, and i'll be in to take over in a little, okay?
you would, at times, have to sit her down and remind her to take it slow. that the roof isn't really bothering either of you, right now, and it won't until .. october, probably. that it's okay to swap out, if need be. she can do dishes, cook if she wants (burn down the house, if she wants), clean up while you go fix the wiring of the fence, tend to the horses, whatever the fuck she feels the need to do, on top of having to do already.
you would have to remind her, that she just can't do everything all at once. and that's okay. but that's also neither of your faults.
both you and parenthood alike would teach her to .. slow down, take it easy, and to talk.
ellie would have to teach you something similar, believe it or not. your back hurt. your tits wouldn't stop fucking leaking, and ever since you gave birth, you wouldn't stop getting these aching migraines that made your ears ring. you quite literally found yourself bending over backwards, trying to do everything all at once all of the time (sound familiar?), because you knew that it was as much of your job as it was ellie's. you can change the diapers, you can pump the breastmilk, you can clean the house, you can stop him from crying, you can read him books (that he couldn't understand, yet, technically), you could do everything. and theoretically, you could. and you would, until it made you frayed, and unhealthy.
that would be enough to make ellie to step in, put her hand on your shoulder, and advise you in a tone that was about as gentle as it was stern:
hey, let maria take him for a couple of days. you're tense -- i can feel you from across the house.
despite the anxiety and the frustration and the sleep deprivation and the exhaustion, you really would feel grateful to be experiencing this trying time together. there were some patterns characterizing it that were obviously stressful, and anxiety-inducing. but there were some consistencies throughout it that were be sweet, and tender. like, running each other warm baths. sitting – either in the bath, with the other, or on the toilet, or the side of the bath – and talking in low volume, not really out of fear of waking the baby, but just to kind of relish in the pocket of peace that existed between the two of you in that moment. the affection never died between the two of you. you were always snuggling close to each other when it came time for bed. always pressing tender kisses to each other's shoulders, holding each other's hands, circling your thumbs and indexes over each other's engagement rings.
… But!
you know... i'm a whore. so honestly, what really spurred this whole thought, is the fact that .. during parenthood your sex lives would practically be nonexistent. and it's not something that either of you really notice, until one of you explicitly brought it up. raising a child -- especially raising one in an environment that you both worked to keep safe, secured, and comfortable -- is a lot of work.
it wouldn't dawn upon either of you until you both were eating one night at the table - another tradition that you did not forfeit. you managed to dance around the subject due to something entirely tangential, and then it hit you, and you said – out of pure realization, ellie, we haven't had sex in .. like, months.
and just like that, the consequences of at least 98 days of involuntarily celibacy hit you both like a fucking truck.
for you, it came in the form of .. the simple reminder that your soon-to-be-wife is really... really fucking physically flawless. you'd notice this everytime she'd wear short-sleeves, or shirts no sleeves, which was really only.. every once in a while, as jackson got colder, or whenever you both woke up. sometimes you'd find yourself looking at ellie's back profile as she sat upright on the bed, adjacent and turned from you, stretching a big, grand stretch, and you'd feel a specific heat beginning to tickle the insides of your thighs. you found it harder to keep your gazes to yourself as ellie exited the shower, muscles apparent, and glistening. her whole body was littered with scars, and yet she was still so gorgeous. it was hard to believe that even for a second you failed to recall – or be conscious of – the fact that as much of a teddy-bear as she was, you were practically dating a fucking sculpture.
naturally, you would act on your desires first. and frankly, ellie would be so willing to lean into them.
she'd be lying if she said sometimes she didn't wake feeling a bit restless, and like there was only one thing that soothe her. she craved it, sometimes – your hands, on her. all she needed were some quick rubs against her clit and kisses against her skin to motivate her to get out of bed and feed the animals. and she was so, so fortunate to have a fiancée good enough to her to give her just that.
she dared, shame on her, to forget how good you could make her feel. ellie never really let anyone touch her, before she met you. before she met you, she was honestly convinced a lot of the parts "down there" didn't work. she could hardly achieve making herself cum. it’d take so long. ellie hardly masturbated because she’d get impatient in any ordeal that wasn’t some needy, feral 3am occurrence that left her stirring, sweaty, and overwhelmed. it was a lot of buildup for what she saw as, in the end, very little payoff. and as far as other people making her cum went? well, no one had ever gotten that far. frankly, she didn’t think anyone would get that far.
that was until she met you.
it definitely wasn’t easy. there were a lot of tired wrists and upper biceps, and your jaw did get pretty sore. her pussy was gorgeously messy. but her clit liked to hide sometimes underneath the extra skin. when you found it, you learned that it was usually, extremely sensitive. but you told her that that was okay. you could make that work.
you spent a lot of time learning all of the technicalities. what was too much, what wasn’t enough. what to say to her; how fast to rub her.
it paid off, because about a month into dating, you showed her that it — and frankly, anything — was possible. just takes a little bit of time, and patience, kisses and whispers of affirmation how about how good she feels. how good she’s doing. takes some listening, intently, to what she needs. to what her body needs.
can feel you twitching. you want my finger right here?
fuck, yeah. right there. just like that, baby -- please don't fuckin' stop.
and once you got good at it (and you got so fucking good at it), ellie couldn’t get enough. she jokes, regularly, that that’s one of the reasons why she’s going to marry you.
ellie's voice in the mornings would breathless and empty. all bostonian accent, rasp, and nothing else. they were vulnerable. whenever she'd let you between her thighs and you placed those kitten licks across her clit transitioning into these longer, learned drags, her moans would break, like glass. her hips would shuffle. sometimes, you’d have to hold her still.
no no, fucking running. it’s okay. just let me. can you let me? can you let me take care of you, baby?
fuck. yes. yes, yes, fuck. s— sorry just – oh, fuck.
it would mostly just be wake-me-ups. but ellie's back would always be arching by the middle of it. she'd find herself gasping, and sighing, and fucking -- against your tongue, against your finger -- and gripping onto whatever, all while mumbling to gods she didn't believe in.
that feels so, so so fucking – g–good.
so fucking good to me; feels so good, babe, thinki'mgonnacum–
ellie's orgasms hit her the same way every time. hard. ridiculously hard. leaving her breathing heavy, and screwing her eyes shut while she grasped at your hand, or your hair. her thighs would tense -- sometimes scramble -- and then collapse, after a while. she became this perfect amalgamation of tinted cheeks, chapped pink lips, messy brown hair, and sticky skin.
she was such a fucking .. painting. she's so incredible.
the plan, as she wrote it, often was to immediately get out of bed after you made her cum. but oftentimes, she couldn't do anything for the first couple of minutes except lie there, body just a sack of bones and jello. her head would rest instead of pressing into yours, or would nuzzle its way deep into your neck. both occasions a precursor to her finally catching her breath. when she moves her head to kiss you, capturing your lips in something thankful, and sweet, it is almost always grounding for the both of you.
better?
so much better. holy shit, babe.
and that's not to say that ellie would never act on her desires. she was always just a little more calculated.
for ellie, her frustrations would creep up on her in the weirdest ways. it would be.. small things. things that were, actually, probably mutual. watching you wash the dishes, even when you’re not bent in a particularly promiscuous way. watching you cook, even when she wasn't really watching you, 'cause she was keeping the baby busy. but what really did her in was watching how you handled your son. something about seeing you have him on your hip, cooing at him or laughing with him, or playing with him, or smothering his cheek in big kisses that elicited these big, big giggles from him, drove her.. a very, questionable? kind of crazy? it was pure. it was so sweet, and most of the time, it was just that. but you were so, good with him. after so many months, despite all of the struggle, you really did blossom into a beautiful, capable mother, who still held the glow and all of the weight from the pregnancy and just–
ellie would realize how good it all looked on you. she would feel.. really proud.
and it made her feel like you .. deserved something.
you both remember the first night she’d acted on her desires like it was yesterday. it was on the night that you two had hosted a dinner party for all of your mutual close friends and people who you called family. the dinner was a 3-week-long process of grocery picking, tablecloth finding, invitation designing, and recipe collecting. it honestly stressed you out more than it did ellie because, to be honest, she was kind of just there for moral support. it was your idea, after having had maria over for dinner once. and it was a great idea. but it left you drained – defeated from the final week of preparations, which was especially hectic. when you bathed that night, you bathed alone, a little overstimulated from the day. but you’d let ellie run the bath, though. only because she insisted on doing so.
the soak cured some of the ache that settled deep into your joints, muscles, and bones.. but not all of it. after you'd set the tub to drain, brushed your teeth, and wrapped a towel around your body, you entered the room with an expected level of silence. you slathered moisturizer on your face, over your arms, over your stretch marks. when it came time to take off your jewlery, the rings – except the prized one – came off easily. but when it came to your necklace, your hands were simply too slippery. you sucked your teeth. you always did this.
you eventually sighed, filling your lungs to call:
hey, bug. can you come help me take this necklace off, please?
ellie eventually would appear behind you, probably shuffling off of the bed or rounding some corner after changing and becoming into her own definition of comfortable. if she seriously complained, you didn’t hear it. you only felt her, how her hand placed itself on your shoulder just to let you know that she was behind you.
some things never change, move your hair over.
you do as asked, and hang your head. ellie's fingers brush against your skin with a kind of delicacy that makes shivers run down your spine. you lift your eyes, catching ellie's in the mirror before you. yours, heavier than hers.
you watched as she fought a smile, or a smirk. either was a given with her, honestly — in retrospect, it was most likely the latter. you couldn’t really tell, though. she’d dipped her head, eyes fixated on her fingers that fiddled with your necklace clasp.
you did a really nice job on the dinner, tonight.
suddenly, you were the one fighting the smile. you watched her, still.
yeah?
oh, you like.. completely knocked it out of the park. you did great. it was really, really really nice.
you didnt know if ellie was referring to the food, or the setup, or the wine choices – whichever. but something about the appraisal made your head buzz, like you were coming down off a two glasses of champagne (which.. maybe you were). ellie successfully removed your necklace, and yet didn’t back away. instead, she pressed herself closer to your back, and tilted her head so that she could speak just above the top of your ear,
you looked really nice, too.
been waiting for you to settle down, a bit. so i could tell you.
you probably hummed something in response, something that was probably suggestive but also thankful at the same time. it gets lost, though. because ellie bent down, and placed these slow, unassuming, appreciative kisses down your neck, and against the plateau of your shoulder. between those words and the way her hands lingered over your skin, the way she was breathing you in and drinking up the moment, and your scent, made you melt into her way too easily. like butter in a warm pan.
you exhale, like you've been meaning to for .. you don't even know how long.
el..
mhm?
you realize though, that the house is quiet. too quiet. there is a stillness to it that makes the pit of your stomach twist, and anxiety and guilt bubble in the base of it before you could even stop it.
...where's our baby?
you felt ellie grin against your shoulder. she masked it with a peck,
he’s at joel’s.
and then you felt her tongue drag across your skin. a long, open-mouthed kiss across the midpoint of your neck. she presses the padding of her tongue against tender flesh, sucks hard enough for blood to make the skin bloom, and almost -- against your own will -- makes your eyes roll shut.
the simple act -- acts rather, of ellie coordinating behind your back to have the baby taken off your hands (you knew it for a few days – it's always a few days). she thought she was so slick. it was odd, how much relief those three words gave you,
but at the same time, you kind of wanted to be mad at her.
it was hard to, though. but you couldn't think straight, with how her hands were moving over you, over your towel. with her pelvis pressed against your ass, and her lips on your neck.
you tried,
he was fine here. everything was .. fine, ellie.
but she was so..
i never said everything wasn't fine.
i just think... you've had a really long, stressful week.
you hate how your body reacts to ellie's hands smoothing up your towel. your whole body broke out into goosebumps, seemingly trying to fit into the pores of ellie's palm,
and i think i wanna make it better.
ellie's breath was hot on your ear, and you didn’t realize it, but your head was already tilted. your eyes had begun to flutter closed. you felt yourself, almost swaying against her. your mouth hung as her teeth grazed over sensitive flesh. her tongue pressed against familiar spots that had been untouched -- like the rest of you -- for so, so long. it was too activating.
in your best effort of defense, you spun yourself to turn around to face her. ellie’s head was tilted, her eyes were low. her breath spanned over your mouth while your palm laid flat against her chest. you stalled – shivering, shaking, suddenly caught in a rapture of toiling emotion that you hadn't felt that strongly in .. god knows how long.
her head dipped back into your neck. she pressed her cotton-clad hips against your towel-covered ones, and it just wasn’t enough. it was a lot, and yet, not enough.
your hand snaked over the nape of her neck as you breathed against your cheek, whole body feeling heavy and compliant. your knees were jelly. you could feel your clit. pulsing, and pleading. it ached as you feel ellie's hand slip over the backs of your thighs, inching under the cusps of your ass.
you needed something. you needed anything. you like to think that you had no idea what necessity meant before this moment, because you had never felt it so strongly. it knocked the wind out of you, only leading you to ask – to plead, without pleading,
e... ellie?
and she understood.
ellie’s head lifted from the crook of your neck she crashed her lips upon yours. the kiss was heavy, and deep. your knees buckled, and where you swore you may fall, she made sure you didn’t. you were shuddering, a hand suddenly possessive around the back her neck. her hands suddenly possessive and stabilizing with the grips she held on your ass. months worth of unknown tension relinquished itself in the pushes and pulls you demanded from each other's bodies while teeth clattered and bit into chapped flesh, turned glossy. moans and breaths circumvented between the two of you, and suddenly, the whole room felt like it was on fire.
she delivered a verbal command, teeth tugging at your lower lip as she half-way parted from it,
jump.
you’d used whatever remainder of your energy to follow the simple instruction, your legs wrapping around ellie's waist like she was your lifeline. they remained around her as your back fell against the duvet, and as she kissed you so deep, your head ran dizzy and your body was left no choice but to arch into her.
you remember your hand smoothing over her abdomen, and reaching up to grab her chest. you remember sighing into her mouth over the fact that you could. you relished in the moan she released your mouth, and only returned it halfway.
you remember gripping her and massaging her and bucking your bare hips up against her in hopes of making her make that noise again, louder. you remember how she bucked her hips into you in hopes of the same sentiment, her waistband grazing against your bair clit cauisng her to succeed far quicker than you.
the night was filled with mind-blurring, fuck-until-the-sun-rises kind of sex. sex that you had no idea your body had needed until ellie had given it to you. your body reeled with every kiss that she'd placed over your skin – you’d watched as she peeled back your towel, and replaced bits and segments of the fabric with her lips in soft, attentive kisses. it was hard to believe that they would transpire into messy, sloppy things. wet, tantilizing things that would trek down the axis of your body. that would hold your body hostage as her tongue and her lips worked on your clit to bring you closer and closer to your third orgasm of the hour.
your body wasn’t used to it. any of it. it was, however, too used to and hyperaware of having a tiny human in the house that you simply couldn’t wake at this time of night.
you were shuffling, at one point, scrambling to put a hand on your mouth, or to bite your own knuckle. when that didn’t work, you let your head fall over to a pillow while you fucked up against ellie’s tongue and bit the fabric, trying so hard not to moan. but you felt yourself cracking.
you’ll never forget how ellie looked up at you. eyes a deep, pointed shade of green as she shook her head – mouth still attached to your clit – which in and of itself had almost made you cry. when she pulled away, it was the only time you let yourself make a noise. only because the whine that was ripped out of you was entirely unanticipated, just like her action.
her breath rippled over your the nerves as she ran her fingertip up, and down your hole. you whimpered, hips shifting up relfexivley, cunt tightening just from the invitation. nearly gushing from the feeling of her beginning to small rub circles against it, instead.
i’ve missed you so fucking much.
she dipped a finger inside of you with such ease, and no warning. a long, slender digit bottomed out inside your cunt, before she pushed in another, and made your jaw go slack. her eyes hung on yours – glossed over with lust and a bit narrow as a result of the devious smile that’d begun to overtake her expression.
she’d begun pumping her fingers.
he’s not here, baby.
it’s just us.
her fingers were so fucking long, you swore to god, you would never want a life without them in it. couldn’t bear another 3, 4, 5 months without having them in you. jesus fuck.
wanna hear you.
wanna hear you be as loud as you fuckin’ want.
ellie emphasized her words by proceeding to fuck you faster. her tongue latched back onto your clit, rolling over and slurping at the nerves, rolling beads of saliva and your juices into and against the bundle. the sound of your cunt was so encompassing, it was hard to believe that it became the backdrop for the moans that ellie had ripped out of you. that made it into, and mostly out of, the pillow, amidst a sea of praise and bucking hips.
the next morning was luxuriuosly unproductive. ellie had only woke to feed the animals and returned to bed and slept with you until noon. she was always affectionate, come mornings. but especially riding off of the honeymoon buzz of the night prior, she made the morning after memorably tender, often pressing kisses to your forehead, and your shoulder, regardless of how awake both you or she was. she’d whisper sweet nothings into your ear, promises of how much she loved you. how she’s really glad this is how she gets to spend her life, as long as it’s with you. all of the sugary things that eventually caramelize into jokes and giggles and laughter, and that how you’d know it was time to get up.
it’s safe to say that parenthood brought you and ellie both very interesting things. it brought you challenges, and it brought you lows. it brought you highs, and photographs, and moments where you did feel like all of your hard-work was paying off, even when it didn’t seem that way. having a family meant having the opportunity to open your house up to people you who you loved. having a family meant having traditions, and things to fall back on – things that you would develop over time, as you learned more and discovered more of what you wanted. and having a family with ellie meant that you could fall back on each other, no matter how tough things got.
.. it also just meant sometimes having really.. really good sex.
(whenever you remembered that that was something that the two of you could actually do, that is.)
#ellie williams x reader#ellie williams#the last of us#ellie williams smut#joel miller#the last of us smut#literally no one asked for this i just needed this#it's pretty valid i guess#i always notice its so easy to just write thoughts that come to my mind as opposed to like Hovering over one idea for like 2 months#idk that's wild#i feel like i have texts that are literally just written a lot prettier but like#i like the vibe setup#i just can’t reread it anymore or else i get really like critical and for good reason but bleh#actually no (10am mia speaking)#this is probably like fine im gonna give myself the benefit of the doubt#i Finished it which was Good i'm gonna pat myself on the back#good job mia!!!!!
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I reread episode 24 of LO after having dropped off between seasons 1 and 2 and it genuinely brought me to tears. I feel like there’s no way the theory about Rachel not intending this to be a depiction of SA can be true. The way it’s written feels so powerful and intentional, and I honestly think that makes her dropping the plotline that much worse.
I mean, maybe I’m projecting because of how similar the scenario was to my own experiences, but I just don’t feel convinced that she didn’t fully intend to write this as SA.
The shots of Persephone trying to physically push him away, of her standing shell shocked in the shower, after the fact, her internal dialogue about wanting it to stop but feeling like she can’t take back the “okay” she gave. It’s gut wrenching. And Apollo commenting on her hair and saying she should leave it long is such a brilliant piece of writing that hits like a punch in the gut for us readers who know why it grows.
And honestly, I think that chapter being so well written is what hurts the most. Because it feels like myself and other survivors were lured in by the prospect of seeing our stories told, and getting catharsis through Persephone even if we would never have it. The conversation she has later with Eros, where he states plainly that what happened was rape, not dancing around the word, validating what Persephone and so many real readers have gone through… It’s so, so painful to read that back and know that this plotline was dropped. That we were led to believe we would be seen only to be completely swept under the rug with no resolution to that story.
And I know people criticize that it’s immediately followed by a phone call with Hades, but honestly? After rereading that too? I loved most of the phone call. They had real chemistry, and you could still feel the weight of what just happened in how Persephone carried herself, but as they talked and she had something to distract herself, the burden got a bit lighter, at least for the moment. It felt resonant. Emotionally intelligent.
It’s like you said. Lore Olympus wouldn’t be so easy to hate if it hadn’t been so easy to love. I think it could have been good despite its flaws and problematic elements, because no media is 100% pure— but somewhere along the way, Rachel stopped caring. And THAT is what ruined it.
No but this is so valid, everything you just described was pretty much why I loved the SA plotline in the first place.
I think the scene itself is beautifully written, but it's odd how it becomes more about Persephone simply wanting an "easy way out" of TGOEM, not just in the 'decision' to have sex (i.e. she was coerced and assaulted) but later when she tries to get out of TGOEM, like... is it because she wants to actually date guys, or is it because she doesn't feel like she "deserves" to be in TGOEM anymore due to the assault? The story tries in some places to explore this but never commits to it fully so it's really hard to know what point it's trying to make at times when you actually peel back the layers.
Really the biggest reasons I 'suspect' Rachel of not intending to write a genuine SA plot from the very beginning is because of how... 'back of mind' it is. It only seems to be brought up whenever Rachel can be bothered to remember, but then it's completely juxtaposed against scenes where it should affect her (or reasonably would) and it doesn't. Case in point, a few episodes after she tells Eros what happened and he confirms it was rape, he tries to convince her to go into Hades' office dressed in a trenchcoat and nothing else underneath and it's like bro... this girl just told you what she went through, why are you suggesting she try to seduce her boss who she doesn't even really know yet LOL
As a result , it really does just make it feel like the SA scene is just there to make Apollo an easy villain, and Hades an easy hero, with the only definitions being "well, Hades didn't assault her, so he's definitely the better choice!" (as if Apollo was ever a 'choice' to begin with, Persephone didn't like him from day 1 so there was basically no chance of there being a love triangle setup except for the audience members who quickly latched onto that "I guess he's cute if you squint a little" line). And with the way episodes are chopped up, separating points of the narrative from each other, it feels like whenever stuff does happen (esp surrounding the SA plot) it's because Rachel's finally bought herself enough time to come up with something, like the therapy episode, Eros confirming it was assault, Persephone stealing the lyre with the intent of hiding it from Apollo (only to then willingly show it to him alone in her bedroom with him a handful of episodes later), etc.
If she did intend to write an SA scene from the beginning, it doesn't feel like she thought the plotline through fully to make it actually feel genuine (and this goes for a lot of the subplots in LO, they always seem to start off as these base "get your attention" ideas but with no actual follow through). And with Apollo now being written as this "huehue you fell right into my trap!" villain (and very poorly I might add) it just feels like the SA is now taking a backseat to, "Actually, Apollo is the bad guy because he wants to overthrow his dad or some shit. Forget the SA happened, I don't wanna write about it anymore."
All those points aside, I agree with you fully, if Rachel cared about what she was trying to write back when the SA was first shown, then that level of care definitely doesn't seem to be there anymore and it's such a shame to see. It just feels like it's being used for artificial drama and nothing more and that's so frustrating and disappointing for many of the SA victims who are critical of this story (including myself) to see when that plotline originally felt like comforting visibility.
#lo critical#lore olympus critical#anti lore olympus#ask me anything#anon ama#ama#anon ask me anything
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Hey! Journeying over from rereading your fics to ask you some Poirot questions! : ) Had you already liked Poirot prior to 2017’s Murder on the Orient Express? And did you immediately fall in love with Bouc in the first film or did it take until Death on the Nile?
Hi!! I love talking about Poirot!! Buckle up😂😂
First off I would like to say that it made my day to see that not only did you read my fics but you reread them!! And then you actually came here to talk to me!! You’re the first person who’s actually done that so it really made my day.
Also: I apologize in advance. When I start talking about Poirot I tend to launch into rants and I… may have done that here so I will say now in case you don’t make it to the end that I would love to hear your thoughts about the movies or anything else Poirot related! Did you know about Poirot before the movie? What are your thoughts about Bouc?
To answer your questions, I guess I could say that technically I liked Poirot before watching the movie. I actually had never heard about Poirot until the movie came out, and one of my sister’s friends took her to see it and then leant her the book. I stole it and read it in almost one night and ever since then have been absolutely enthralled by Agatha Christie! I own almost all of the Poirot books and have been trying to branch out and sample her other writings, but I keep coming back to Poirot.
By the time Death on the Nile came out I forgot the Bouc was a character who existed because I hadn’t seen MotOE since it came out in 2017. When I saw him, I did remember that he’d been in the last movie, and was absolutely delighted that they were going to turn him into the Hastings of the movies (especially because he was so happy and full of life😭) which of course we all know what happened with that and now that I’ve recovered from my shock and denial I can take a step back and acknowledge it was a FANTASTIC choice to kill him, and to do it in such a shocking way—but also, I’m also not a a fan of how much Kenneth Branagh deviated from the source material by doing that.
Adding Bouc to the movie was a choice that made sense, if Kenneth Branagh is going for a Poirot Cinematic Universe. People expect a sidekick, and in stories where the cast has to change every movie, it’s nice for the audience to have a familiar face other than the main detective. However, I also think Kenneth Branagh shot himself in the foot by shooting Bouc in the neck, because he went out of his way to add and establish Bouc as a reoccurring character, just to kill him off in the second movie. I think the audience will now have more difficulty connecting with the side characters in the future since they’ve had two movies with the same character, as a opposed to already being used to the characters changing every movie. But then again, I’m still in denial. Along with this, it’s setting up the next movie to have a distinctly dark tone.
Well, now I’ve gotten started on the topic of Poirot and I can’t stop😂😂😂 Enjoy my decent into madness.
Another way that dear Kenny boy shot himself in the foot is with the iconic mustache. His mustaches in MotOE were luscious and beautiful, despite the critic they received. Branagh understood that Poirot has impressive mustaches that are quite a spectacle to behold, even if the rest of the world can only picture the measly little mustache that David Suchet displays in his version of Poirot (don’t get me wrong I love those adaptations but just… the mustache is all wrong. And David Suchet Poirot is a subject for a different time or we’ll be here forever😂😂). In DotN, for some reason he felt the need to give the mustaches a tragic backstory????? Narratively, I guess it’s a nice bookend and theme to the movie as a whole. BUT HE FELT THE NEED TO GIVE THE MUSTACHES A TRAGIC BACKSTORY????????????? Despite the fact that in DotN the mustaches aren’t actually long enough anymore to cover up the scaring shown at the beginning, HAIR DOESNT GROW ON SCAR TISSUE!!!! It just doesn’t make sense😭 Along with that, now he’s destroyed the main characteristic of Poirot, his trademark. Poirot is quite vain about his mustaches and even when he wears a fake one in Curtain (for reasons that I won’t spoil but if you know you know) Hastings only finds out at the end of the book, and Poirot’s manservant treats the subject with delicacy since the mustaches were such a sensitive subject to Poirot.
While I’m STILL talking about Poirot (forgive my rant I can’t stop) I’m going to take the opportunity to mention the stark difference in quality between MotOE and DotN. I’ve now seen both of these movies multiple times and back to back. Overall, I think MotOE is much better. DotN uses a lot of green screen, and it’s pretty obvious and creates for some flat feeling backgrounds. For MotOE, they took shots of the mountains and overlayed the train on, instead of all CGI. Now, I don’t know for sure how much of each movie and which parts use CGI; it could be that MotOE uses more CGI and I just have a bad eye for spotting it. It was just my impression that the backgrounds in DotN were severely lacking.
And let’s talk about the music. MotOE delivers and excellent score that makes you feel a wide variety of emotions, and they use the theme of repetition well in The Armstrong Case. For me, it had just reached the point in the movie where the theme could have started to be annoying; but the. they used it magnificently when Poirot was explaining the murder, and the simple and relentless, already melancholy melody turned into something truly heartbreaking, turning a scene of twelve people stabbing a man to death into something poetic. 10/10 one of the best uses of music and one of the best scenes ever, in my opinion. DotN, besides the songs sung by the talented Sophie Okonedo as Salome Otterbourne, has no notable music to take away from the movie, besides the absolutely grating (I don’t know what it’s called but it goes like. DUN DUN. DUUUN! DUN DUN. DUUUN! I think if you search Death on the Nile on YouTube you’ll find the song titled the same by Patrick Doyle). I got tired of hearing that by the third time it played, and my annoyance with it was one of the main things that I took away from the movie.
AND ANOTHER THING both movies took creative liberties with the stories, but one of the creative liberties I did not like about DotN was how explicit they made it. Between that dance floor scene and the scene at the tomb… when I go to see a movie that’s rated PG-13 I like to feel comfortable seeing it with my father and not feel the need to slam my hands over my little sister’s ears. Especially when I want to slam them over my ears instead😭
All this being said I’m 100% going to go see a Haunting in Venice, but not because I’m expecting it to be good. I’d just like more fuel for my rants. I didn’t even get touch upon what an amazing actor Tom Bateman is and how I’m mad that he only plays serial killer roles outside of Bouc.
Anyways I hope that answers your questions😅 thank you for your ask, and congratulations if you made it this far. It did truly make my day to see the phrase “rereading” in association with my fics, and I feel as if you were some curious passerby on the street who I started passionately and somewhat aggressively ranting at. I apologize. Also I took a break from ranting to check out your blog and you’ve got a great curation of posts. Good luck getting rid of me now. Prepare to see me in your notifications. Sorry for the essay.
#asks#i………..can only apologize for the length of this#but anyways. thus is the way of tumblr interactions#you send me an ask I give you an essay and now you’ll never get rid of me#just like when you feed a stray cat#poirot#hercule poirot#bouc#murder on the orient express#death on the nile
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Wait omG a writing meme and I’m NOT LOGGED IN but hmmmm 75 & 76??
HELLO VERY MYSTERIOUS AND UNKNOWABLE FRIEND OKAY LET"S GOOOOOOOOOOOOO
75. Is there a particular fic that readers gravitated towards that you didn’t expect?
Hmmmm, so something that happens every so often that really surprises me is someone will leave me a comment on like one of my OLD old fics. Like The Prisoner is old but it’s had a lot of rewrites and subtle tweaks so it’s like, mostly unembarrrassing LOL. But I literally can’t read some of my older stuff because it makes me cringe, not even necessarily because it’s bad but more because it’s so clearly a product of the time at which it was written? I think if someone stumbled onto it not knowing me they probably wouldn’t think it was bad, just maybe average or sometimes above-average fanfic-level writing.
But idk it’s always just nice and surprising when someone stumbles across, e.g. Early to Bed or my earliest Cassandra/Lavellan stuff, or even like says they’ve reread something like that multiple times. There’s something really beautiful about that to me—that even though it’s not really something I want to read myself anymore, that it’s lost its meaning to me in some ways, it still resonates with someone else!
Generally I’m not overly surprised by what does and doesn’t get traction though—I think what always does surprise me is when people tell me they come back to read certain fics again and again, that really takes me out every time, in the best possible way!
76. How do you deal with writing pressure, whether internal or external?
Hmmmmm, well, the worst pressure by far is internal. I want to do a good job, I want to create a story that is up to my standards and do justice to whatever idea I have in my head. And I have a solid enough technical foundation and, idk, life experience foundation, that usually I feel like I can get to whatever I want to evoke if I work at it enough. So the biggest frustration for me tends to be “well whatever I write right now is going to be horrible” vs. “sure but if you write SOMETHING now it will be easier to revise later, and also it prob won’t even be as bad as you think.”
I think the main external pressure I feel is just like if I’m writing something for a specific purpose or person then I obviously want that purpose to be served or that person to think it’s good. So the struggle there is just like, “relax you know what you’re doing you can’t worry about this all the time.” I take a lot of comfort in knowing that I’m a very harsh critic, and I also like to go back and look at nice things people have said about my writing to boost my confidence during these times LOL
But I think the biggest one is definitely the feeling of "oh even if I did write right now it wouldn't be anything good" that keeps me from writing more than anything else. And the only way I'v ereally found to combat it is literally just "yeah well sucks to suck do it anyway :)"
Fanfiction Writing Asks
#tumblr text editor taking 10 yrs off my life#if the formatting is fucked up that's just an extra little gift from tumblehell to you :)#exciting tag for writing things#exciting tag for answered asks
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Review: The Hero of Ages (Mistborn #3) by Brandon Sanderson
Book 14 of 2022
Start Reading Time: 15 August 2022
Finish reading Time: 15 September 2022
Page Count: 572
TRIGGER WARNINGS: VIOLENCE, DEATH, BLOOD, MURDER, GENOCIDE, GORE
This is the spoiler-free part of the review. I will put up a spoiler alert before going into the review that contains spoilers.
I feel like a shell of myself after finishing this Trilogy.
After reading THAT ending.
I feel hollow.
This might be the worst book hangover yet.
That ending may have ruined me (pun very much intended).
It's been a week since I finished reading it, but I still can't form thoughts, and I've been procrastinating instead of making this review. It's like my brain has been turned upside down and inside out, and my psyche feels like it has just finished a marathon and is too tired to function.
BUT OH MY DEAR GOD DO I LOVE IT.
This has happened to me before and it was when I finished The Poppy War, and for those of you who had read that whole Trilogy, you know what I'm talking about. Once again, I feel so crushed but also, happy? Because that ending, as crushing as it is, it is just SO RIGHT. This feeling is so confusing but it's also the feeling I crave. It's this feeling that make me truly appreciate this gift of being able to read and getting lost in this fantasy world, and to cease to exist in the real world and forget all of it's problems for a while, only to fight evils with magical powers and to be given hope that goodness will win in the end. And, of course, it makes me appreciate that there are brilliant people like Brandon Sanderson who have written these amazing books so that ordinary people like me can read them, and that there are epic books like these exist in this world, waiting to be read by anyone who's willing.
I'm just so overwhelmed by all these feelings, so excuse me if this review will not make that much sense, I'm just a mere vessel of overwhelming love and gratitude for this series right now. I'm so happy to be able to visit The Final Empire and to get to know Kelsier, Vin, Elend, Spook, Sazed and everyone else. These characters have been living rent free in my mind since I started reading this series, and I know they will be comfortably staying there for a good while. I'm also so grateful for all of the moral lessons, food for thoughts and challenging arguments that made me reflect and question myself to be better.
I'm also so grateful that Brandon Sanderson is a wizard who writes books at breakneck speed because there are more books in this series, although it is set in a different era, and there will be one more trilogy set in a different era, AND there are novellas too! I'm so happy to be able to visit this world again someday when I read the next Mistborn books, even though Kelsier, Vin, Elend, and the crew won't be there anymore. I will most definitely reread this Trilogy, if Mr. Sanderson ever stops giving us new awesome books to read. JK, I will reread it even if there are new books to read, and I hope Brando Sando keeps releasing new books.
Having said all of that, I do have my criticisms of this book, though. I do have some issues with it, which I will explain later in this review, as I always think that no matter how good a book is, there is always room for improvement, and it is just my own humble opinion, which many others may not share. Nevertheless, these issues don't diminish my enjoyment of the book, I enjoyed this book and this trilogy as a whole thoroughly, and it has become my new obsession that I will never stop talking about for a really long time. I will always find some ways to bring it up in conversations, reviews, discussions, etc, so that everyone will be so curious about it and will eventually read the books for themselves. Well, that, or they may just get fed up with me, block me on everything and get turned off about the books because of me. Hopefully, it's the first one. Anyway, let’s get into the synopsis and the review:
It's been three years since Vin found the Well of Ascension and Elend was turned into a Mistborn. Things have gone worse than ever; now the ashes fall down even harder, killing the crops and food is becoming more and more scarce. The mist now comes even in daylight, making it harder for people to see, and a lot of people who go into the mist have fallen ill, and there are earthquakes happening more and more often each day. Things are grim to say the least.
Vin realized that when she released the spirit from the Well of Ascension instead of keeping the power of the Well to herself, she might have unknowingly started the end of the world. So, now Vin is desperate to find a way to save the world, and along with the help of Elend and the rest of the remaining crew: Sazed, Breeze, Ham and Spook, they're doing their best to find the Lord Ruler's storage caches filled with food and other supplies that he had left scattered across the Final Empire. They gather and distribute the food and other supplies they found in the storage caches to the people living in Luthadel and other regions that they have traveled to in search of the caches, which have pledged their allegiances to Elend and Vin as their new Emperor and Empress. However their supplies are growing thin each day, and the ashes are piling on the ground more and more, and everyday more people have fallen ill to the mist.
One of the most important things they found in each of the storage caches besides the food and other supplies, is the message from the Lord Ruler written on a piece of metal so it couldn't be corrupted. The message gives them clues about the location of other storage caches. They hope once they've found all of the storage caches, they will find an answer to their question; how to save the world from ending.
But, their mission to get to all of the storage caches is far from easy, since there are some regions that are refusing to be ruled by Elend and Vin, but Vin and the crew had no other choice but to get to all of those storage caches. The final two storage caches are located in Fadrex, a region that's now ruled by a former Obligator who's awfully loyal to The Lord Ruler; and Urteau, now ruled by a Noblepeople-hating skaa who worships The Survivor and is very religious.
Meanwhile, Sazed is still very deep in depression since losing Tindwyl, and he can't seem to bring himself to wear any of his metalminds nor find any meaning in the work he used to be so passionate about, and he feels guilty about that too. TenSoon is being accused of treason, he tries to explain to his people that the end is near and that they have to play their part in helping the Hero of Ages in preserving the world, but no one believes him. Marsh seems to be losing his hopes of ever being able to control himself again.
Things are worse than ever, and their chances of saving the world seem to be slimmer and slimmer everyday. Will they save the world in time? Find out how they, once again, did the impossible in this mind-blowingly epic end to this trilogy.
🚨SPOILER ALERT🚨
From this point forward in the review, I will mention spoilers, plot twist and the ending. So, if you don’t wish to be spoiled, you can skip the rest of the review and come back to this review once you’ve finished reading this book.
Buckle up people, because here's my long and dramatic rambling rant about the best things from the book that got me so obsessed with it:
MRS. VIN VENTURE, MISTBORN EMPRESS EXTRAORDINAIRE. I mean, she really went through it in this book. I gotta say that this book is NOT good to Vin, like, at all. Well, except she did get to finally go to a ball and dance with Elend in the early parts, but after that, it all just went downhill for her. She got held hostage by Yomen, her best friend Sazed is depressed, her other friend TenSoon is away and being accused of treason, she thought she was The Hero of Ages and put all the burden on herself to save the world, she found out that Ruin has been gaslighting the hell out her since she was a baby, and in the end she had to watch her husband being decapitated, and she was never The Hero of Ages, she was just someone that Ruin had picked since she was just a baby, to manipulate into releasing him from his prison because she had all the right criteria. Our homegirl was not having the best time, and I was stressed out for her. But I'm also so incredibly proud of her. She went from being a paranoid little street urchin into a bad-ass young Mistborn who killed the powerful and immortal tyrant, then she became an Empress who took control of thousands of Koloss, saving thousands of lives, and made the ultimate sacrifice for the survival of the entire world. She's truly one of the most amazing female protagonists I have ever had the pleasure of knowing.
Vin was not special, she was never the Hero of Ages, she didn't have special powers that other Mistborn doesn't have. it's true that she had heightened power with bronze which enable her to cut through copperclouds, which is the result of the hemalurgy that her late mother did to her, taking the power from her baby sister who was a Seeker, but other than that, she was just another Mistborn. What made her special is her being strong and resilient even long before she knew anything about Allomancy and realized she has Allomantic powers. What made her special is her still having faith in the goodness of others even when they had failed her time and time again. What made her special is her having compassion and treating others with respect and justice, having faith in people to be good. What made her special is just her being her. Sazed is damn right, Vin is special, but not because of the powers that she possesses, not because of the titles she holds, or the people she associates with. Vin's special because she simply is a special person.
I really thoroughly enjoy Vin's journey, and even though that ending wrecks me, I'm happy, proud and glad for how she ended up in this story. I'd like to think that now she's peaceful and happy in the heavens with Elend, Reen, Kelsier, Mare, Dockson, and Clubs.
But I am so far from being done talking about Vin lol. Despite having the shittiest times in this book, Vin still has the most badass moments, most wholesome moments, and cutest moments, and I'm here today to tell you all about it. Every time she fights anyone, be it the Koloss, Marsh, or those twelve inquisitors, I swear it's like Brandon Sanderson really TURNED IT THE FUCK UP for all these fight scenes because they truly got me so riled up. I freaking love reading those fight scenes, as brutal as it was, Vin was so fucking badass, she got me rooting for her like never before. Then when she's trying to give Sazed comfort in this scene:
"“There was a time,” she said, “after I’d taken the power at the Well of Ascension, when I thought Elend would die.”
“But he did not,” Sazed said. “He lives still.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Vin said. “I thought him dead. I knew he was dying—I held that power, Sazed, power you can’t imagine. Power you’ll never be able to imagine. The power to destroy worlds and remake them anew. The power to see and to understand. I saw him, and I knew he would die. And knew I held the power in my hands to save him.”
Sazed looked up.
“But I didn’t,” Vin said. “I let him bleed, and released the power instead. I consigned him to death.”
“How?” Sazed asked. “How could you do such a thing?”
“Because I looked into his eyes,” Vin said, “and knew it was what he wanted me to do. You gave me that, Sazed. You taught me to love him enough to let him die.”"
Side note about that quote, I feel like with most romantic stories, they'd ask, would you die for me? But with Vin and Elend, it's "I love you enough to let you die, because I know it's what you wanted", and that just proves that their love is superior, and it destroys me all over again. Will I get to know a love story this good ever again?
And this quote about Vin's growth:
"Vin was not fury. She was not terror. She had grown beyond those things. She had seen Elend die—had held him in her arms as he did—and had known that she had let it happen. Intentionally.
And yet, he still lived. Every breath was unexpected, perhaps undeserved. Once, she’d been terrified that she would fail him. But, she had found peace—somehow—in understanding that she couldn’t keep him from risking his life. In understanding that she didn’t want to keep him from risking his life.
So, she no longer fought out of fear for the man she loved. Instead, she fought with an understanding. She was a knife—Elend’s knife, the Final Empire’s knife. She didn’t fight to protect one man, but to protect the way of life he had created, and the people he struggled so hard to defend.
Peace gave her strength."
Reading that part again after knowing how they ended up in the book is like a punch to the guts.
And the cutest moment has got to be that ✨ball scene✨, when Elend was pretending to read when they danced, to annoy Vin. Aaaaakkk that scene is what got me through that ending, in my head now Vin and Elend are dancing happily in a beautiful ballroom in heaven. However, in retrospect, rereading that scene I'm annoyed because their plan to quietly sneak into the storage cache when Elend is distracting Yomen is just SO STUPIIDDD!! OH MY GOD!!! I'm disappointed in Elend, tbh, because he was supposed to be a scholar, which means he's supposed to be very smart, right? Well, he's not very bright to actually go through with this plan. I'm just over here reading about them coming up with this poor plan and actually going through with it, knowing Yomen already set up traps for them like:
But, nevertheless, that ball scene with them dancing for the first (and even though by then they didn't know it yet, it's also their last) time, is just TOP TIER, it's the cutest and and the most romantic scene I read in a while. I'm so freaking happy for them, for my stupid and delusional babies, since they actually think their plan will be successful lol.
I also have to mention one of the cruelest things Ruin did to Vin, is to appear to her using Reen's likeness. Yes, that scene. And I have to tell you that I had a near heart attack thinking that Reen had been alive this whole time, that he never loved her and he didn't die protecting her, and was under Ruin's control. I think my heart stopped for a hot second. That was so freaking cruel of Ruin, to both Vin and me. I feel pranked by Brando Sando for that. Because you read my previous reviews of Book 1 and Book 2 of Mistborn, you'll know that I sympathize with Reen. But Vin was so smart because she knew that it's not really Reen, and she didn't get as emotional as I did.
And finally, that ending just cemented my love for Vin for the rest of my life, I keep coming back to her last words over and over again because I just find it so beautiful and comforting. I don't know other ways to express how much I love her, she's just the best thing about this trilogy, she's such an inspiration and she gives me so much happiness and hope just by reading her story.
"You created the thing that can kill you, Ruin, Vin said. And you just made one huge final mistake. You shouldn’t have killed Elend.
You see, he was the only reason I had left to live."
ELEND. I cannot believe I used to hate this man. I legit hope that I spent more time appreciating how great and solid of a character he is. Just like his wife, I think Elend has gone through amazing transformation personality wise, and I really enjoyed reading about his growth (and my growth too, lol, because I went from hating him for being the new leader of Luthadel after Kelsier died, to liking him in Book 2, and now after reading that ending, I'm a raging fan of his).
Also, to think that my criticism of the first book is the Vin-Elend romance 🤡🤡🤡, but now I think it is one of the best romance in fantasy, because of the trust they have for each other (i mean... self development whooooo??!! lol). Even though, yes, some may say that their relationship is lacking in passion, but for me personally, it just feels refreshing to read about romance without reading multiple sex scenes, especially in the setting that this story takes place in, where the world is quite literally coming to an end. The fact that their fates ended so tragically, but also so in a way that is so beautiful (in that Epilogue after Sazed had put Elend back together), I think that has got to be what got me sobbing reading that ending. Their sacrifices for the preservation of the world. Just imagining them laying there lifeless, side by side, knowing what they've gone through, I get teary eyed just thinking about it. I would even go as far as to say that their romance is one of the best things about this book, for me personally. I'm a sucker for tragic love stories and theirs ranks pretty high for the most tragic love story, for me. I love it, I'm obsessed with it, if my SO doesn't love, support and trust me like Elend did Vin, and if I can't love, support and trust him like Vin did Elend, I don't want it. I mean just look at the material:
"He looked across the cabin at her, sitting on the bed, expression distant as she thought about things that shouldn’t have to be her burden. Even after leaping about all night, even after their days spent traveling, even with her face dirtied by ash, she was beautiful.
At that moment, Elend realized something. Vin didn’t need another person worshipping her. She didn’t need another faithful believer like Demoux, especially not in Elend. He didn’t need to be a good member of the Church of the Survivor. He needed to be a good husband."
"It seemed a flimsy ruse to her. And yet, she knew that was because she could see Elend’s confusion, could read his lies in his eyes. She understood him, as he understood her. It was an understanding that required love.
And she suspected that was something that Ruin would never be able to comprehend."
I mean, if I can't communicate via telepathy with my partner like that, I don't want it.
But back to Elend, I really like reading about his growth through him progressing his morals and political ideologies. Throughout all of his changes, since he was just an heir to the most powerful house in Luthadel, to him becoming a Mitborn and an Emperor, one thing about him doesn't change, and it's that he's a good person who wants to help and make things better for people. He dreaded that he'd become the next Lord Ruler, because he truly just wanted to be a good leader who wants what's best for his people, very much the opposite of the Lord Ruler. And that moment when he realizes that he had to be someone that he doesn't like, because being an emperor is never something that he ever wished to be, but he knows he had to be that in order to help the world to be better since the circumstances around him requires him to. Since he had previously tried to be a good and idealist leader but then is voted out of his leadership by the very people he chose to lead alongside him, and with the laws he himself made, and then the leadership title goes to someone else with nefarious intentions, and threaten the well being of his people, which made him think that he had failed as a leader that way. So he was stuck in this place where he's forced to be someone he hated being, but he's doing it for the well being of the rest of the world, how can you not sympathize with him for that?
"“What kind of monsters are we?” Fatren asked in a hushed tone.
“The kind we have to be,” Elend said."
"He looked out over the blackened canal waters. “It doesn’t control me, Vin. I don’t agree with most of the things the Lord Ruler did. I’m just coming to understand him—and that understanding worries me.” She saw questions in his eyes, but also strengths. He looked down and met her eyes. “I can hold this throne only because I know that at one point, I was willing to give it up in the name of what was right. If I ever lose that, Vin, you need to tell me. All right?”
Vin nodded.
Elend looked back at the horizon again. What is it he hopes to see? Vin thought.
“There has to be a balance, Vin,” he said. “Somehow, we’ll find it. The balance between whom we wish to be and whom we need to be.” He sighed. “But for now,” he said, nodding to the side, “we simply have to be satisfied with who we are.”
It must be one of the hardest things to do, to go against your wishes, ideologies and moral values for a very selfless reason. For that, Elend deserves the title of the best leader, and I truly respect him for that.
His last speech before he went outside the cavern to fight the Koloss, even in his last moments he was inspiring others to make sacrifices for the survival of other people, when he himself knew that he'll die in that battle, once again just proves that he was a great leader and an amazing human being. I truly hope I spent more time appreciating and cherishing him and Vin since Book 1, and I will surely do that every time I reread this trilogy.
SAZED. I love him so much, so reading this book is hard sometimes, especially the chapters with his POVs. He was severely depressed, and honestly, I relate so hard, like it resonated with me so much and that is why it is hard to read lol. But also, it's even worse because we have come to know and love him as this amazing wise man, who's so passionate about his work, and so you know how when your loved one gets sick, it hurts and saddens you more than when you yourself get sick? Yeah, it's like that for me with Sazed. He was the one who gives advice to everyone in the crew, the one who's hopeful, and now he had become the opposite of that; he doesn't have hope, and he's the one who needs advice from others in the crew (and I have to mention also that it's so heartwarming and wholesome how almost everyone in the crew stepped up for him and tried to help him in one way or another). It's so crushing to read, especially as a fan, like I've been a raging fan and hyping him up since book 1.
However, you'll never know pure joy and satisfaction without knowing hardship first, and after all that Sazed had gone through in this book, after knowing him to be the most selfless, pure and kindhearted person who lifts up others around him, to find out that he was always destined to be the Hero of Ages, it's like one of those rare moments when the DVD logo hits the corner, it's like when the math formula makes sense to you, it's like when the little plastic containers fit into your drawer perfectly; IT FELT SO SATISFYING. I mean, because it just makes sense, and it fits him so much. He IS the Hero of Ages and I feel like he is the one who's most deserving of that title, no offense to Vin, because I really do love her to shreds, and she is also a hero, both her and Elend are heroes, after what they did for the survival of the world, but they're not the hero that is meant to last forever, because my babies deserve peace, and I'm so glad that it's what they get, even if it's in their deaths.
Also, the title just fits Sazed so much better since he has all of that knowledge about other religions and so I feel he's better equipped for the job, and he did a marvelous job of making the world a better place in the end. But you know what kills me, is that when he realized that he is the Hero of Ages, he was immediately in denial, saying that he's no hero and even the first words he'd written in the book he left for Spook is "Unfortunately, I am the Hero of Ages". I mean, excuse me Sir, what do you mean unfortunately? We're all honored and grateful to have you as the Hero of Ages.
Even though it was hard to read and it makes me cry multiple times, reading Sazed's journey in this book is just something I'm really grateful for, because it gives me so much hope, and just like when I read about Kaladin finding hope and meaning in The Stormlight Archives books, their stories inspire me so much. I really appreciate Brandon Sanderson so much for making these kinds of stories and including the representation of depression in his epic fantasy books, because to me, a person battling depression who's reading about a depressed character overcoming their depression and helping other people, and being something larger than life in their stories, it's nothing if not inspiring hope.
SPOOK. The Survivor of the Flames. I've been rooting for him since he was just an incoherent and shy little teenage boy tailing his old uncle around in Book 1. If you'd told me two books ago that this shy little guy who awkwardly tried to court Vin but get rejected, would turn into this bad-ass young man with extremely heightened senses who would save a city by going into a burning building and getting the water to flow through the water canals and thus extinguishing the fires that were destroying the city, I would say that is so awesome and I'd read these books faster to get to that point, because I always knew that he's meant for greatness.
To say that I love him would be an understatement, I feel like I'm his Mom, like I gave birth to him and I am so incredibly proud of how he turned out to be in this book, and I was also so protective of him. Yes, I mothered the hell out of him in this book, and when I found out that the voice in his head is definitely not Kelsier, I was yelling for him to not listen to that voice anymore. Reading that part when he was being manipulated by Ruin stressed me the fuck out. And when he struggles while flirting with Beldre, I was screaming for them to just kiss and make it official. I was so protective of him and their relationship, because after what happened to Sazed and Tindwyl in book 2, I just don't have a lot of faith in Brandon Sanderson to let these two to end up happily together, and I am so happy to be proven wrong by the ending.
We need to discuss that "Lestibourne" flashback scene, because when I get to that chapter, I legit had to put the book down and scream into a pillow.
"“You have a name, boy?”
Spook opened his mouth, then stopped. His old name didn’t seem like it would do any more. “Lestibournes,” he finally said.
The old man didn’t bat an eye. Later, Kelsier would decide that Lestibournes was too difficult to say, and name him “Spook” instead. Spook never did figure out whether or not Clubs knew how to speak Eastern street slang. Even if he did, Spook doubted that he’d understand the reference.
Lestibournes. Lefting I’m born.Street slang for “I’ve been abandoned.””
It fucking hurts my soul, because he's my sweet baby boy, he didn't deserve to get hurt like that, especially when he was so little. It's been awhile since I last felt pain like the one I felt when I was reading that scene, and it was when I read The Kite Runner (if you know, you know). It made me also very grateful for Kelsier to give him the name Spook, because I think Kelsier must know the meaning behind the name Lestibourne, even when no one else in the crew knew, including Spook's own uncle, Clubs, and I think Kelsier truly cared for Spook that's why he gave him the name, which also just makes me love Kelsier more.
Spook also struggles with insecurity issues in this book, which breaks my heart every time. He'd assumed that he had joined the crew by default because his uncle was in the crew and he worked with his uncle, he believed that Kelsier would never willingly choose him to be in his crew if it wasn't for his uncle. And add to that the fact that he had left his uncle to die in Book 2, there's no wonder why my guy was so insecure and felt guilty AF. But to find out that he had been kind of inflicting abuse on himself by burning Tin nonstop to the point where his senses are so heightened that he had to cover his eyes with cloth in daylight, because he was so desperate to be useful and to prove his worth, it pains me. But in the end, he really did prove his worth, and he did help and save so many people in that city and the world by sending that message to Vin. And in that ending note in the book from Sazed,
"You did well. Know that the message you sent via Captain Goradel saved us all, in the end. The people will need leadership in the years to come. Likely, they will look to you. I’m sorry that I cannot be there in person to help you, but know that I am . . . about.
I have made you Mistborn, and healed the damage you did to your body by flaring tin so much. I hope you don’t mind. It was Kelsier’s request, actually. Consider it a parting gift from him.
Watch over them for me."
And before that, in the "dream" he had before he woke up after he survived the fire, and I think it's Kelsier that was speaking to him;
"“. . . And that's why you absolutely must get that message sent, Spook. The pieces of this thing are all spinning about, cast to the wind. You have a clue that nobody else does. Send it flying for me.”
Spook nodded, feeling fuzzy. Where was he? What was going on? And why, suddenly, did everything hurt so much?
“Good lad. You did well, Spook. I’m proud.”"
I'm so happy that in the end, Spook knows that Kelsier did in fact choose him and cared for him, and most of all, that he's proud of him. But, maybe it's Clubs who's talking to him in that "dream" of his? Either way, in the end Spook earned the approval from Kelsier, and he has Beldre, AND he's the new leader of this new world that Sazed created. I'm so happy for him, and I would legit read his own trilogy if BS ever feels like making it, whether it's about his life before he was in Kelsier's crew or about how he leads the new world, I would read it, no bullshit. I just love him so freaking much.
Btw, if Lestibournes is not his name and Spook was given to him by Kelsier, then what is his birth name????
MARSH. Hey, do you remember in the last review for the Well of Ascension when I was like...
Well, that turned out well, didn't it?
Why oh why did I become so invested in these characters when I KNOW they won't be alright and it'll hurt me tremendously? I never learn, and that's exactly why I continue to get hurt reading my beloved characters being killed off or tortured or in this case, being controlled by a powerful evil force and getting an unclear ending. I'm such a 🤡🤡🤡. Of course I had googled to find out what happens to Marsh after this book, and it seems that he's alive millenniums after that ending and he appears in the next trilogy which is set in the next era, but I mean, it would have been nice if this book has also mentions that he is alive after that battle with Vin.
However I'm glad that at least he got enough control of himself to help Vin by ripping out Vin's earring so that the mist/Preservation can transfer its powers to Vin. I'm glad that he knew that he'd made Mare proud, that he didn't give up this time.
Also, we need to talk about this quote:
"In the distance, down the slope, a solitary figure pushed resolutely through the ash. The man wore a pack and led an exhausted horse.
Who is this? Marsh thought, looking closer. The man had the build of a soldier, with a square face and balding head, his jaw bearing several days’ worth of beard. Whoever he was, he had an impressive determination. Few people would brave the mists—yet this man not only walked through them, but forged his way through ash that was as high as his chest. The man’s uniform was stained black, as was his skin. Dark . . . ashen . . .
Beautiful."
It's kinda giving me bi vibes from Marsh. Is he bi? Because I NEED TO KNOW. Too bad he killed Captain Goradel so brutally. They'd make a cute couple, I think.
HAM & BREEZE. I feel like we get so little of them both in this book, but I understand since this book is the last of the trilogy and Brando Sando has to fit a lot to answer so many questions. However, what little we have of these two is such a welcome refreshment from all the tension that's been going on in this book since start to finish. I'd just like to take a moment to appreciate these two fine men.
So here are my favorite moments of these two:
"Beside them, Ham was chuckling. Vin turned. “What?”
“Ah, Vin,” Ham said, leaning back and folding his muscular arms, “when did you go and grow up on me? It seems like just last week you were scrambling about, hiding in corners, wearing the haircut of a boy and the attitude of a mouse.”
Vin smiled fondly. “Do you remember when we first met? You thought I was a twixt.”
Ham nodded. “Breeze nearly fainted dead away when he found we’d been talking with a Mistborn all that time! Honestly, Vin. Sometimes I can’t believe that you were that same frightened girl Kelsier brought into the crew.”
“It has been five years, Ham. I’m twenty-one now.”
“I know,” Ham said, sighing. “You’re like my own children, adults before I had time to know them as kids. In fact, I probably know you and El better than I know any of them . . .”"
"“A king doesn’t have to please anyone,” Cett snapped. “He’s the one with the army—that means other people have to please him.”
“Actually,” Ham said, rubbing his chin, “that theory can’t be true. A king has to please somebody—after all, even if he intended to force everyone to do what he said, he’d still have to at least please his army. But then, I guess if the army is pleased simply by being allowed to push people around, you might have an argument . . .”
Ham trailed off, looking thoughtful, and Cett scowled. “Does everything have to be some damn logic puzzle to you?” he demanded. Ham just continued to rub his chin."
"“Have fun dancing with our enemies,” Ham said as Vin hopped from the boat, then Pushed herself up through the mists. Elend waved farewell, Pushing himself into the air as well. As he shot away, his tin-enhanced ears heard Ham’s voice talking to Cett.
“So . . . you can’t go anywhere unless someone carries you, right?” the Thug asked.
Cett grunted.
“Well then,” Ham said, sounding very pleased. “I’ve got quite a number of philosophical puzzles you might enjoy. . . .”"
"“Ham,” he said, glancing down. “Is this right?”
Ham shrugged. “This move does make sense, El,” he said, rubbing his chin. “Attacking is our only real chance of saving Vin. And, we can’t hold the siege—not any longer.” Ham paused, then shook his head, his tone of voice taking on that uncertain quality it always did when he considered one of his logic problems. “Yet, loosing a group of koloss on a city does seem immoral. I wonder if you’ll be able to control them, once they begin to rampage. Is saving Vin worth the possibility of killing even one innocent child? I don’t know. Then again, maybe we’ll save more children by bringing them into our empire. . . .”
I shouldn’t have bothered to ask Ham, Elend thought. He never has been able to give a straight answer. He looked out over the field, blue koloss against a plain of black. With tin, he could see men cowering on the tops of the Fadrex City ridges.
“No,” Ham said.
Elend glanced down at the Thug.
“No,” Ham repeated. “We shouldn’t attack.”
“Ham?” Elend said, feeling a surreal amusement. “Did you actually come to a conclusion?”
Ham nodded. “Yes.” He didn’t offer explanation or rationalization."
I'm so happy that in the end Ham is reunited with his family after such a long time, and that Breeze has Allrieanne. Both of them also have grown into better men than when we first met them in Book 1, I think. It's such a subtle growth but it's there, with Breeze being more caring towards others and Ham able to come to a conclusion for a philosophic question. They're great supporting characters and I'll miss them.
YOMEN & QUELLION. They both make good villains, in different ways. I find myself agreeing with Quellion's arguments so much, to the point that I suspected him to have read my review of The Final Empire, especially the part where I rant about hating Elend for being the new leader of Luthadel after Kelsier died. Quellion made some excellent arguments and Sazed even confirmed that what he said is true, but I know that Spook is also right because mass killing the noblepeople like he did is not what Kelsier would look kindly upon, after all, he did save Elend.
I like Yomen because he reminds me of old Elend, the idealistic Elend in Book 2, only his loyalty was to the Lord Ruler instead of The Survivor. He was scary to me and I thought he was a mistborn since he can burn Atium, but in the end he helped Elend and Vin a lot. Also, why do I feel that there's some sexual tension going on between Yomen and Elend, I mean when Elend was trying to "distract" him from Vin sneaking into the storage cavern, they were almost cute, I was like are they arguing or are they flirting? And when Elend was having a TMI/Emo moment in this scene:
"“You are an . . . interesting man, Elend Venture,” Yomen finally said.
“I’m a bastard,” Elend said.
Yomen raised an eyebrow.
“In composition, not in temperament or by birth,” Elend said with a smile. “I’m an amalgamation of what I’ve needed to be. Part scholar, part rebel, part nobleman, part Mistborn, and part soldier. Sometimes, I don’t even know myself. I had a devil of a time getting all those pieces to work together. And, just when I’m starting to get it figured out, the world up and ends on me. Ah, here we are.”"
I think they'd make a cute couple, if Vin wasn't in the picture. But don't get me wrong, I'm team Vin-Elend all day everyday. I'm just saying what if...
I love the parallels of Ruin VS Preservation with Raava VS Vaatu in ATLoK, and the Man in Black VS Jacob in Lost TV show, because I love these shows, and now with Brando Sando announcing that they'll be adapting this series into a TV show very soon, as a fan I am very excited and I cannot wait to see this awesome story comes to life, and for everyone else to be as excited as I am to watch the story unfolds. It'll be my reason for living for the next however many years lol.
As much as I love this book, I do have some criticisms…
I personally feel that the redemption that Lord Ruler seems to be getting in this book is very much undeserved, since he had committed unforgivable atrocities in his lifetime, regardless of his efforts that ended up being very helpful for Vin and the crew in saving the world. Two things can be true; The Lord Ruler saved a lot of the population of people by making the storage caches and other actions he'd taken to help Vin and the crew defeat Ruin, and he had committed genocide against the Skaa, among other horrible things. Don't give me that Ruin was influencing him, because look at Spook. Just like we can all agree that Zane's story is tragic, but he still did what he did, and even though we can sympathize with him, in the end we have to judge him for his actions.
Why do the whole kandra race have to be killed? I'm so sad for TenSoon, he's a hero too in this story and that ending with the deaths of all kandra, or the transformation of kandra into mistwraiths is just so sad.
I'm pretty sure that Marsh already knows about hemalurgy and how the Lord Ruler is influencing and controlling people, since he's been controlled by Ruin himself, so Spook's message to Vin didn't really play an important role?
Ruin overlooking the kandra race as a whole seems unbelievable remembering how he had been imprisoned for a thousand years and had planned his release by using and manipulating Vin ever since she was a baby. So, to me he doesn't seem to be the kind who would just overlook or dismiss an important race such as the kandras. Also, it makes him less of a terrifying evil genius that way.
I think that Ruin missing Marsh ripping out Vin's earring seems highly unlikely, since he was controlling him and knows how important that earring is for him in order to beat Vin.
I hate that in the whole trilogy, Vin is the only awesome female character. Tindwyl was good but now she's dead, and Beldre and Allrianne are just kinda there. I get that Beldre played an important part in Spook's storyline, but we didn't get to know more of her other than that she's an allomancer, she was her brother's secret guard/assassin, she's kind and beautiful, and she likes Spook. For me, that's not enough to get me to like her or become invested in her. And Allrianne is just there, what did she do in this book other than follow Breeze along?
I wish BS at least mentions that Marsh is alive after that last battle, so we didn't have to google "What happens to Marsh" after finishing this book. Also, did Sazed ever heal Marsh? I feel like he could have healed him. And did Sazed ever turn Human and all the Koloss back into real human beings? I need answers. I guess I'll find out in the next trilogy, we'll see.
Here are my favourite moments from the book:
Vin & Elend dancing together for the first time at that ball.
Every time Vin fights anyone; Koloss, Inquisitors, Marsh, or Ruin.
When Spook took out that piece of metal from his flesh, and saved Quellion and the whole city population.
When Sazed chose to believe again.
When Sazed found out that he's the Hero of Ages.
The ending when the Spook, Breeze, Ham, general Demoux and everyone else reunites and they found Sazed's book and Vin and Elend laying lifeless side by side, and Sazed's note to Spook tells him that Vin and Elend are happy where they are and that they deserve a rest.
And finally, here are my favorite quotes from the book:
"Vin was not fury. She was not terror. She had grown beyond those things. She had seen Elend die—had held him in her arms as he did—and had known that she had let it happen. Intentionally.
And yet, he still lived. Every breath was unexpected, perhaps undeserved. Once, she’d been terrified that she would fail him. But, she had found peace—somehow—in understanding that she couldn’t keep him from risking his life. In understanding that she didn’t want to keep him from risking his life.
So, she no longer fought out of fear for the man she loved. Instead, she fought with an understanding. She was a knife—Elend’s knife, the Final Empire’s knife. She didn’t fight to protect one man, but to protect the way of life he had created, and the people he struggled so hard to defend.
Peace gave her strength."
"“If you will excuse the observation, Lord Breeze,” Sazed said, “you do not fool me as easily as you believe you do.”
Breeze raised an eyebrow.
“I know you are a good man,” Sazed said. “You work very hard to hide it. You make a great show of being callous and selfish. Yet, to those watching what you do and not just what you say, you become far more transparent.”"
"“Dark inner secret?” Sazed asked. “That you’re kindhearted?”
“It’s an attribute in myself that I’ve worked very hard to discourage,” Breeze said lightly."
"Hope, Elend thought forcefully. She needs that from me; she’s always needed that from me. He tightened his grip on her shoulder, then pulled her into an embrace. “We’ll beat it, Vin. We’ll find a way.”
She didn’t contradict him, but she obviously wasn’t convinced. Still, she let him hold her, closing her eyes and resting her head against his chest."
"She still worried about him, even though she no longer tried to protect him from all danger. Both her worry and her willingness to let him take risks were part of her love for him. And he sincerely appreciated both."
"The nature of the world is that when we create something, we often destroy something else in the process."
"Elend nodded slowly. “I wish I could have known him. Early in my career, I always compared myself to him. By the time I heard of Kelsier, he was already becoming a legend. It was unfair to force myself to try and be him, but I worried regardless. Anyway, those of you who knew him, maybe you can answer another question for me. What do you think he’d say, if he saw us now?”
“He’d be proud,” Ham said immediately. “I mean, we defeated the Lord Ruler, and we built a skaa government.”
“What if he saw us at this conference?” Elend said.
The tent fell still again. When someone spoke what they were all thinking, it came from a source Vin hadn’t expected.
“He’d tell us to laugh more,” Sazed whispered.
Breeze chuckled. “He was completely insane, you know. The worse things got, the more he’d joke. I remember how chipper he was the very day after one of our worst defeats, when we lost most of our skaa army to that fool Yeden. Kell walked in, a spring in his step, making one of his inane jokes.”"
"And yet, one harrowing, undeniable fact remained. Mare had been right. She had chosen Kelsier over Marsh. And then, when both men had been forced to deal with her death, one had given up.
The other had made her dreams come true."
"“But there’s something more, Vin. I fear I’m becoming like him.”
“Who?”
“The Lord Ruler.”
Vin snorted quietly, pulling closer to him.
“This is something he would have done,” Elend said. “Sacrificing his own men for a tactical advantage.”
“You explained this to Ham,” Vin said. “We can’t afford to waste time.”
“It’s still ruthless,” Elend said. “The problem isn’t that those men died, it’s that I was so willing to make it happen. I feel . . . brutal, Vin. How far will I go to see my goals achieved? I’m marching on another man’s kingdom to take it from him.”
“For the greater good.”
“That has been the excuse of tyrants throughout all time. I know it. Yet, I press on. This is why I didn’t want to be emperor. This is why I let Penrod take my throne from me back during the siege. I didn’t want to be the kind of leader who had to do things like this. I want to protect, not besiege and kill! But, is there any other way? Everything I do seems like it must be done. Like exposing my own men in the mists. Like marching on Fadrex City. We have to get to that storehouse—it’s the only lead we have that could even possibly give us some clue as to what we’re supposed to do! It all makes such sense. Ruthless, brutal sense.”"
"Most of his life, it seemed that he had been a flake of ash, pushed around by whatever strong wind came his way. He’d gone where people told him to go, done what they’d wanted him to. Even as an Allomancer, Spook had lived his life as a nobody. The others had been great men. Kelsier had organized an impossible revolution. Vin had struck down the Lord Ruler himself. Clubs had led the armies of revolution, becoming Elend’s foremost general. Sazed was a Keeper, and had carried the knowledge of centuries. Breeze had moved waves of people with his clever tongue and powerful Soothing, and Ham was a powerful soldier. But Spook, he had simply watched, not really doing anything.
Until the day he ran away, leaving Clubs to die.
Spook sighed, looking up. “I just want to be able to help,” he whispered.
“You can,” Kelsier’s voice said. “You can be great. Like I was.”"
"He’s a nobleman, Vin thought. He likes the way that the world used to be. It was comfortable. Even skaa fear change.
Vin stood. “I’ll tell you why you should care, old man. Because the ash is falling, and soon it will cover up your pretty little city. The mists kill. Earthquakes shake the landscape, and the ashmounts burn hotter and hotter. Change is looming. Eventually, even Yomen won’t be able to ignore it. You hate change. I hate it too. But things can’t stay the same—and that’s well, for when nothing changes in your life, it’s as good as being dead.” She turned to leave."
"Yet, during those months, she had been content. Perhaps more content than any other time in her life. She loved Elend, and was glad life had progressed to the point where she could call him husband, but there had been a delicious innocence about her early days with the crew. Dances spent with Elend reading at her table, pretending to ignore her. Nights spent learning the secrets of Allomancy. Evenings spent sitting around the table at Clubs’s shop, sharing laughter with the crew. They’d faced the challenge of planning something as large as the fall of an empire, yet felt no burden of leadership or weight of responsibility for the future.
Somehow, she had grown into a woman in between the fall of kings and collapse of worlds. Once she had been terrified of change. Then she had been terrified of losing Elend. Now her fears were more nebulous—worries of what would come after she was gone, worries of what would happen to the people of the empire if she failed to divine the secrets she sought."
"“Yomen is a believer,” Slowswift said. “That may be a weakness; it may be a strength. Believers are often willing to attempt the seemingly impossible, then count on providence to see them through.” He paused, glancing at Vin. “That sort of behavior can be a weakness if the belief is misplaced.”"
"“Well, then,” he said. “Let’s do it.”
“What?” Vin asked.
“Save the world,” Elend said. “Stop the ash.”
Vin snorted quietly. “You make it sound like a joke.”
“No, I’m serious,” he said, standing. “If this is what you feel you must do—what you feel that you are—then let’s do it. I’ll help however I can.”
“What about your speech before?” Vin said.
“In the last storage cavern—you talked about division of labor. Me working on the mists, you working on uniting the empire.”
“I was wrong.”
Vin smiled, and suddenly Elend felt as if the world had been put back together just a bit."
"“Elend, I had to realize that I could be both people—the Mistborn of the streets and the woman of the court. I had to acknowledge that the new person I’m becoming is a valid extension of who I am. But for you, it’s opposite! You have to realize that who you were is still a valid part of you. That person makes silly comments, and does things just to provoke a reaction. But, he’s also lovable and kindhearted. You can’t lose those things just because you’re emperor.”"
"“You had things to learn,” Vin said. “Like I did. But, please don’t become someone else, Elend. You can be both Elend the emperor and Elend the man.”
He smiled deeply, then pulled her close, pausing their dance. “Thank you,” he said, then kissed her. She could tell that he hadn’t made his decision yet—he still thought that he needed to be more of a hard warrior than a kind scholar. However, he was thinking. That was enough, at the moment.
Vin looked up into his eyes, and they returned to the dance. Neither spoke; they simply let the wonder of the moment hold them. It was a surreal experience for Vin. Their army was outside, the ash was falling perpetually, and the mists were killing people. Yet, inside this room of white marble and sparkling colors, she danced with the man she loved for the first time."
"“Elend, you don’t have to help me. You can’t help me. I love you, but you’re just not as good at this as I am. I can take care of myself, but I need to know that I won’t have to take care of you, too. If anything goes wrong—or, if things go right, but the building goes on alert—I want you to get out. I’ll meet you at the camp.”
“And if you get into trouble?” Elend said.
Vin smiled. “Trust me.”
He paused, then nodded. Trusting her was one thing he could obviously do—something he’d always done."
"“Do you know why I dislike men like you, Venture?” Yomen finally asked.
“My insufferable charm and wit?” Elend asked. “I doubt it’s my good looks—but, compared to that of an obligator, I suppose even my face could be enviable.”
Yomen’s expression darkened. “How did a man like you ever end up at a table of negotiation?”
“I was trained by a surly Mistborn, a sarcastic Terrisman, and a group of disrespectful thieves,” Elend said, sighing. “Plus, on top of that, I was a fairly insufferable person to begin with. But, kindly continue with your insult—I didn’t mean to interrupt.”"
"Vin looked up into his eyes, and they returned to the dance. Neither spoke; they simply let the wonder of the moment hold them. It was a surreal experience for Vin. Their army was outside, the ash was falling perpetually, and the mists were killing people. Yet, inside this room of white marble and sparkling colors, she danced with the man she loved for the first time.
They both spun with the grace of Allomancy, stepping as if on the wind, moving as if made of mist. The room grew hushed, the nobility like a theater audience, watching some grand performance, not two people who hadn’t danced in years. And yet, Vin knew it was wonderful, something that had rarely been seen. Most noble Mistborn couldn’t afford to appear too graceful, lest they give away their secret powers.
Vin and Elend had no such inhibitions. They danced as if to make up for the four years lost, as if to throw their joy in the face of an apocalyptic world and a hostile city. The song began to wind down. Elend pulled her against him, and her tin let her feel his heartbeat so close. It was beating far more swiftly than a simple dance could account for."
""It all returned to her. Things she thought she’d banished into the dark, quarantined parts of her mind: blows from Reen’s hand, harsh criticism from his tongue, furtive moves from city to city.
And yet, tempering these memories was an insight. She was no longer the young girl who had borne her beatings in confused silence. Looking back, she could see the fear Reen had shown in the things he had done. He’d been terrified that his half-breed Allomancer of a sister would be discovered and slaughtered by the Steel Inquisitors. He’d beaten her when she made herself stand out. He’d yelled at her when she was too competent. He’d moved her when he’d feared that the Canton of Inquisition had caught their trail.
Reen had died protecting her. He had taught her paranoia and distrust out of a twisted sense of duty, for he’d believed that was the only way she would survive on the streets of the Final Empire. And, she’d stayed with him, enduring the treatment. Inside—not even buried all that deeply—she’d known something very important. Reen had loved her.
She looked up and met the eyes of the man standing in the cavern. Then, she slowly shook her head. No, she thought. It looks like him, but those eyes are not his.""
"“You are my enemy. You seek to end the things I love.”
And is an ending always bad? it asked. Must not all things, even worlds, someday end?
“There is no need to hasten that end,” Vin said. “No reason to force it.”
All things are subject to their own nature, Vin, Ruin said, seeming to flow around her. She could feel its touch upon her—wet and delicate, like mist. You cannot blame me for being what I am. Without me, nothing would end. Nothing could end. And therefore, nothing could grow. I am life. Would you fight life itself?
Vin fell silent.
Do not mourn because the day of this world’s end has arrived, Ruin said. That end was ordained the very day of the world’s conception. There is a beauty in death—the beauty of finality, the beauty of completion.
For nothing is truly complete until the day it is finally destroyed."
"“Is this what she’d want of you, Sazed?” Breeze said. “To deny who you are? To become yet another stuffy politician?”
“I do not know, Lord Breeze,” Sazed said softly. “I . . . I don’t have her anymore. And so, perhaps, I can remember her by being involved in what she loved.”
“Sazed,” Breeze said frankly, “how is it you can be so wise in so many areas, yet be so completely stupid about this?”
“I . . .”
“A man is what he has passion about,” Breeze said. “I’ve found that if you give up what you want most for what you think you should want more, you’ll just end up miserable.”
“And if what I want isn’t what society needs?” Sazed said. “Sometimes, we just have to do what we don’t enjoy. That is a simple fact of life, I think.”
Breeze shrugged. “I don’t worry about that. I just do what I’m good at. In my case, that’s making other people do things that I don’t want to. It all fits together, in the end.”"
"What good was killing another monster if it was just replaced by two more? What good was food to feed his people if the ash just smothered everything anyway? What good was he, an emperor who couldn’t even defend the people of a single village?"
"Elend had never lusted for power. He’d been a theorist and a scholar—ruling an empire had mostly been an academic exercise for him. Yet, as he fought on that dark night in the burning mists and falling ash, he began to understand. As people died around him despite his most frenzied efforts, he could see what would drive men for more and more power.
Power to protect. At that moment, he would have accepted the powers of godhood, if it would mean having the strength to save the people around him."
"“Faith,” Spook said, “means that it doesn’t matter what happens. You can trust that somebody is watching. Trust that somebody will make it all right.”
Sazed frowned.
“It means that there will always be a way,” Spook whispered, staring forward, eyes glazed, as if seeing things that Sazed could not.
Yes, Sazed thought. That is what I have lost. And it’s what I need to get back."
"“This work I do, it’s about passion, Vin. It’s about dynamic events; it’s about change! That is why you and your Elend are so important to me. People with passion are people who will destroy—for a man’s passion is not true until he proves how much he’s willing to sacrifice for it. Will he kill? Will he go to war? Will he break and discard that which he has, all in the name of what he needs?”"
"“You couldn’t create it yourself, could you?” Vin asked. “The world, life. You can’t create, you can only destroy.”
“He couldn’t create either,” Ruin said. “He could only preserve. Preservation is not creation.”
“And so you worked together,” Vin said.
“Both with a promise,” Ruin said. “My promise was to work with him to create you—life that thinks, life that loves.”
“And his promise?” Vin asked, fearing that she knew the answer.
“That I could destroy you eventually,” Ruin said softly. “And I have come to claim what was promised me. The only point in creating something is to watch it die. Like a story that must come to a climax, what I have done will not be fulfilled until the end has arrived.”"
"Elend had worried that he was becoming another Lord Ruler, but his concern had always seemed flawed to Vin. He hadn’t been the one to conquer and reforge an empire, she had. She’d been the one who made the other kings submit.
She’d done exactly as the Lord Ruler had. A Hero had risen up, and the Lord Ruler had killed him, then taken the power of the Well of Ascension. Vin had killed the Lord Ruler, then taken that same power. She’d given up the power, true, but she’d filled the same role.
It all came to a head. The reason why the skaa worshipping her, calling her their savior, felt so wrong. Suddenly, her real role in it all seemed to snap into place.
“I’m not the Survivor’s Heir, Yomen,” she said sickly. “I’m the Lord Ruler’s.”"
"He glanced upward. The ceiling was of wood, but red sunlight—refracted by the window—sprayed across it. “Why?” he whispered. “Why leave me like this? I studied everything about you. I learned the religions of five hundred different peoples and sects. I taught about you when other men had given up a thousand years before.
“Why leave me without hope, when others can have faith? Why leave me to wonder? Shouldn’t I be more certain than any other? Shouldn’t my knowledge have protected me?”
And yet, his faith had made him even more susceptible. That’s what trust is, Sazed thought. It’s about giving someone else power over you. Power to hurt you. That’s why he’d given up his metalminds. That’s why he had decided to sort through the religions one at a time, trying to find one that had no faults. Nothing to fail him.
It just made sense. Better to not believe, rather than be proven wrong. Sazed looked back down. Why did he think to talk to the heavens? There was nothing there.
There never had been."
"And yet, how could they understand? Sazed closed his eyes tight, feeling a pair of tears squeeze from the corners. How could anyone understand the pain of a faith betrayed? He had believed. And yet, when he had needed hope the most, he had found only emptiness."
"Belief . . . He remembered a voice from the past. His own voice, speaking to Vin on that terrible day after Kelsier’s death. Belief isn’t simply a thing for fair times and bright days, I think. What is belief—what is faith—if you don’t continue in it after failure. . . .
How innocent he had been.
Better to trust and be betrayed, Kelsier seemed to whisper. It had been one of the Survivor’s mottos. Better to love and be hurt."
"Finally, he thought with relief as she grabbed the first spike. Whatever I did . . . it worked. Somehow.
He felt Ruin’s rage, felt his master realizing his mistake. In the end, Marsh had mattered. In the end, Marsh hadn’t given up. He’d done Mare proud."
"Why did they believe? Because they saw miracles. Things one man took as chance, a man of faith took as a sign. A loved one recovering from disease, a fortunate business deal, a chance meeting with a long lost friend. It wasn’t the grand doctrines or the sweeping ideals that seemed to make believers out of men. It was the simple magic in the world around them."
"But, that was how things often went, it seemed. Some important decisions were made on a battlefield or in a conference room. But others happened quietly, unseen by others. That didn’t make the decision any less important to Sazed. He would believe. Not because something had been proven to him beyond his ability to deny. But because he chose to."
"Life, Vin said. You said that the only reason to create something was so that you could destroy it.
She hovered beside Elend, watching him fight. The deaths of the koloss should have pained her. Yet, she did not think of the death. Perhaps it was the influence of Preservation’s power, but she saw only a man, struggling, fighting, even when hope seemed impossible. She didn’t see death, she saw life. She saw faith.
We create things to watch them grow, Ruin, she said. To take pleasure in seeing that which we love become more than it was before. You said that you were invincible—that all things break apart. All things are Ruined. But there are things that fight against you—and the ironic part is, you can’t even understand those things. Love. Life. Growth.
The life of a person is more than the chaos of its passing. Emotion, Ruin. This is your defeat."
"For a moment, he was embraced by something greater. He looked up, toward the sun.
And he saw—just briefly—an enormous figure in the air just above him. A shifting, brilliant personage of pure white. Her hands held to his shoulders with her head thrown back, white hair streaming, mist flaring behind her like wings that stretched across the sky.
Vin, he thought with a smile."
"Vin floated above Elend’s body, looking down. She reached out with incorporeal fingers, touching his head, remembering how it had felt to use her power to fuel his Allomancy. She didn’t know what she had done. Something akin to what Ruin did when it controlled the koloss, perhaps. Only opposite. Liberating. Serene.
Elend was dead. She knew that, and knew that there was nothing she could do. That brought pain, true, but not the pain she had expected. I let him go long ago, she thought, stroking his face. At the Well of Ascension. Allomancy brought him back to me for a time.
She didn’t feel the pain or terror that she had known before, when she’d thought him dead. This time, she felt only peace. These last few years had been a blessing—an extension. She’d given Elend up to be his own man, to risk himself as he wished, and perhaps to die. She would always love him. But she would not cease to function because he was gone.
The opposite, perhaps."
"Preservation could never destroy you! she thought, almost screaming it against the agony. He could only protect. That’s why he needed to create humankind. All along, Ruin, this was part of his plan!
He didn’t give up part of himself, making himself weaker, simply so that he could create intelligent life! He knew he needed something of both Preservation and of Ruin. Something that could both protect and destroy. Something that could destroy to protect.
He gave up his power at the Well, and into the mists, giving it to us so that we could take it. He always intended this to happen. You think this was your plan? It was his. His all along.
Ruin cried out. Still, she drove on.
You created the thing that can kill you, Ruin, Vin said. And you just made one huge final mistake. You shouldn’t have killed Elend.
You see, he was the only reason I had left to live."
"Spook froze as he caught sight of a bit of color in the grass. He held up a hand, warning the others, and they stepped forward more quietly. There, in the center of the grass, was a field of . . . somethings. Colorful somethings, growing from the ground, with tops like bright-colored leaves. They were shaped like upside-down bells, with long straight stalks, the petals at the top open toward the sun. As if reaching for its light and gaping to drink it in.
“Beautiful . . .” Beldre whispered.
Spook stepped forward, moving among the plants. Flowers, he thought, recognizing them from the picture Vin had carried. Kelsier’s dream finally came true."
"He opened it, reading the first page.
I am, unfortunately, the Hero of Ages, read the delicate, careful letters. Spook thought he recognized the handwriting. As he flipped through the book, a slip of paper fell free. Spook picked it up—one side had a faded drawing of a flower, the very picture he’d been thinking about moments before. On the other side was a note scrawled in the same handwriting as the book.
Spook, it read. I tried to bring them back, but apparently fixing the bodies doesn’t return the souls. I will get better at this with time, I expect. However, be assured that I have spoken with our friends, and they are quite happy where they are. They deserve a rest, I think."
"You did well. Know that the message you sent via Captain Goradel saved us all, in the end. The people will need leadership in the years to come. Likely, they will look to you. I’m sorry that I cannot be there in person to help you, but know that I am . . . about.
I have made you Mistborn, and healed the damage you did to your body by flaring tin so much. I hope you don’t mind. It was Kelsier’s request, actually. Consider it a parting gift from him.
Watch over them for me."
I had so much beautiful time reading this trilogy, and like I said before and I'll say it a million more times, this story will stay with me for a really long time and I will never shut up about it. Despite its flaws, this trilogy is one of the best I've ever read, and saying goodbye to it is bittersweet. I will most definitely do rereads of this trilogy in the future and I can't wait to visit this magical world again when I read the next trilogy of this series and the novellas.
But, until then...
PLOT - ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
WRITING STYLE - ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
ENTERTAINMENT LEVEL- ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
BOOK COVER DESIGN - ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
OVERALL BOOK RATING - ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
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I heard that #40 was super homophobic :/ so I skipped it. But now your fic is making me want to give it a try. How problematic is it? Are the characters worth it?
Okay.
Okay.
Let’s talk about #40.
The plot of The Other (a Marco POV) is that Marco sees an Andalite on a video tape sent in to some Unsolved Mysteries-esque TV show, and he assumes it’s Ax and hauls ass to save him from being captured. Ax, being Ax, has videotaped the show, and they pull it up and Tobias uses his hawk eyes to figure out that it’s not Ax, it’s another Andalite - one without a tailblade. Ax is appalled at the presence of this vecol (an Andalite word for a disabled person) and we find out that he and others of his species have deep ingrained prejudices against at least some kinds of disabled people.
Despite this, Marco and Ax go looking for the Andalite in question because he’s been spotted by national TV, and they meet a second one, named Gafinilan-Estrif-Valad. The vecol is Mertil-Iscar-Elmand, a former fighter pilot with a reputation and Gafinilan’s coded-gay life partner. The two of them have been on Earth since book 1; they crashed their fighters on the planet and have been trapped there thanks to the GalaxyTree going down. Gafinilan has adopted a human cover, a physics professor, and they’ve been living in secret ever since.
Thanks to that tape, Mertil has been captured by Visser Three, and he’s not morph-capable so he can’t escape. Gafinilan wants to trade the leader of the “Andalite Bandits” to the Yeerks to get his boyfriend back; he can’t fight to free Mertil because he’s terminally ill with a genetic disorder that will eventually kill him, and (it’s implied that) the Yeerks aren’t interested in disabled hosts, even disabled Andalite ones. Despite Ax’s ableism, the Animorphs agree to work with Gafinilan and free Mertil, and they’re successful. Marco ends the book talking about how there are all kinds of prejudices you’ll have to face and boxes that people will put you in, and you can’t necessarily escape them even if they’re reductive and inaccurate, but you can still live your life with pride.
So now that I’ve explained the plot, I’m gonna come out the gate saying that I love this book. I love it wholeheartedly, I love Marco’s narration, I love Ax having to deal with Andalite society’s ableism, I love these characters, and as a disabled lesbian I don’t find these disabled gays to be inherently Bad Rep.
that’s of course just my opinion and it doesn’t overshadow other issues that people might have? but at the same time, I don’t like the seemingly-common narrative that this book is all bad all the time, and I want to offer up a different read.To that end, I’m going to go point by point through some of the criticisms and common complaints that I’ve seen across the fandom over the years.
“Mertil and Gafinilan were put on a bus after one appearance because they were gay!”
this is one I’m going to have to disagree with hardcore. I talked about this yesterday, but in Animorphs there are a lot of characters or ideas that only get introduced once or twice and then get written off or dropped - in order off the top of my head, #11 (the Amazon trip), #16 (Fenestre and his cannibalism), #17 (the oatmeal), #18 (the hint of Yeerks doing genetic experiments in the hospital basement), #24/#39/#42 (the Helmacrons’ ability to detect morphing tech), #25 (the Venber), #28 (experiments with limiting brain function through drugs), #34 (the Hork-Bajir homeworld being retaken, the Ixcila procedure), #36 (the Nartec), #41 (Jake’s Bad Future Dream), and #44 (the Aboriginal people Cassie meets in Australia) all feature things that either seem to exist just for the sake of having a particular trope explored Animorphs-style or to feature an idea for One Single Book.
This is a series that’s episodic and has a very limited overall story arc because of how children’s literature in the 90s was structured - these books are closer to The Saddle Club, Sweet Valley High, Animal Ark, or The Baby-Sitters’ Club than they are to Harry Potter or A Series of Unfortunate Events. Mertil and Gafinilan don’t get to be in more than one book because they’re not established in the main cast or the supporting cast, I don’t think that it’s solely got anything to do with their being gay.
“Gafinilan has AIDS, this is a book about AIDS, and that’s homophobic!”
Okay, this is… hard. First, yes, Gafinilan does have a terminal illness. Yes, Gafinilan is gay. No, Soola’s Disease is not AIDS.
I have two responses to this, and I’ll attack them in order of their occurrence in my thought. First, there’s coded AIDS diseases all over genre fiction, especially genre fiction from that era, because the AIDS epidemic made a massive impact on public life and fundamentally changed both how the public perceived illness and queerness and how queer people themselves experienced it. I was too young to live through it, but my dad’s college roommate was out, and my dad himself has a lot of friends who he just ceases to talk about if the conversation gets past 1986 or so - this was devastating and it got examined in art for more reasons than “gay people all have AIDS”, and I dislike the implication that the only reason it could ever appear was as a tired stereotype or a message that Being Queer Means Death. Gafinilan is kind, fond of flowers, and fond of children - he’s multifaceted, and he’s got a terminal illness. Those kinds of people really exist, and they aren’t Bad Rep.
Second off, Soola’s Disease? Really isn’t AIDS. It’s a congenital genetic illness that develops over time, cannot be transmitted, and does not carry a serious stigma the way AIDS did. Gafinilan also has access to a cure - he could become a nothlit and no longer be afflicted by it, even if it’s considered somewhat dishonorable to go nothlit to escape that way. That’s not AIDS, and in fact at no point in my read and rereads did I assume that his having a terminal illness was supposed to be a commentary on homosexuality until I found out that other people were assuming it.
“Mertil losing his tail means he’s lost his masculinity, and that’s bad because he’s gay! That’s homophobic!”
so this is another one I’ve gotta hardcore disagree with, because while Mertil is one of two Very Obviously Queer Characters, he’s not the only character who loses something fundamental about himself, or even loses access to sexual and/or romantic capability in ways he was familiar with.
Tobias and Arbron both get ripped out of their ordinary normal lives by going nothlit in bad situations, and while they both wind up finding fulfillment and freedom despite that, it’s still traumatic, even more for Arbron I’d say than for Tobias. And on a psychological level, none of the main cast is left unmarked or free of trauma or free of deep change thanks to the bad things that have happened to them - they’re no less fundamentally altered than Mertil, even if it’s mental rather than physical. And yes, tail loss is equated with castration or emasculation, but that doesn’t automatically mean Mertil suffering it is tied to his homosexuality and therefore the takeaway we’re intended to have is “Being gay is tragic and makes you less of a man”. This is a series where bad shit happens to everyone, and enduring losses that take away things central to one’s self-conception or identity or body is just part of the story.
Also, frankly? Plenty of IRL disabled people have to grapple with a loss of sexual function, and again, they’re not Bad Rep just because they’re messy.
“Andalite society is confusingly written in this book, and the disability aspects are clearly just a coverup for the gay stuff!”
Andalite society is canonically sexist, a bit exceptionalist and prejudiced in their own favor, and pretty contradictory and often challenged internally on its own norms. In essence, it’s a pretty ordinary society, and they’re really realistic as sci-fi races go. It makes sense from that perspective that Andalites would tolerate scarring or a lost stalk eye or a lost skull eye, but not tolerate serious injuries that significantly impact your perceived quality of life. Ableism is like that - it’s not one-size-fits-all. I look at Ax’s reactions and I see a lot of my own family and friends’ behaviors - this vibes with my understanding of prejudice, you know?
“Mertil and Gafinilan have a tragic ending, which means the story is saying that being gay dooms you to tragedy!”
Mertil and Gafinilan have the best possible ending that they could ask for? They are victims of the war, they are suffering because of the war, they get the same cocktail of trauma and damage that every other soldier gets. But unlike Jake and Tobias and Marco, unlike Elfangor, unlike Aximili? Their ending comes in peace, in their own home. Gafinilan isn’t dying alone, he’s got the love of his life with him. Mertil isn’t going to be as isolated anymore, he’s got Marco for a friend. Animorphs is a tragedy, it’s not a happy story, it’s not something that guarantees a beautiful sunshine-and-roses ending for everyone, and I love tragedy, and so I will fight for this story. Yes, it hurts. Yes, it deserved better. But it’s not less meaningful just because it’s sad. Nobody is entitled to anything in this book, and it’s just as true for these two as it is for anyone else.
“It’s not cool that the only canonically gay characters in this series don’t get to be happy and trauma-free and unblemished Good Rep!”
This is one I can kind of understand, and I’ll give some ground to it, because it is sucky. The only thing I’ll say is that I stand by my argument that nothing that happens to Mertil and Gafinilan is unusual compared to what happens to the rest of the cast, and that their ending is way happier than Rachel and Tobias’s, or Jake and Cassie’s. But it’s a legitimate point of frustration, and the one argument I’ll say I agree has validity.
(Though, I also want to point out that I think there are plenty of equally queercoded characters in the story who aren’t Mertil and Gafinilan - Tobias, Rachel, Cassie, and Marco all get at least one or two moments that signal to me that they’re potentially LGBT+, not to mention Mr. Tidwell and Illim in #29 and their long-term domestic partnership. There’s no reason to assume that the only queer people here are those two aliens when Marco’s descriptions of Jake exist.)
“Marco uses slurs and reduces Gafinilan’s whole identity to his illness!”
Technically, yes, this is true, except putting it that way strips the whole passage of its context. Marco is discussing the boxes society puts you into, the ones you don’t have a choice about facing or escaping. He’s talking about negative stereotypes and reductive generalizations, he’s referring to them as bad things that you get inflicted upon you by an outside world or by friends who don’t know the whole story or the real you. The slurs he uses are real slurs that get thrown at people still, and they’re not okay, and the point is that they’re not okay but assholes are going to call you by them anyway. He ends by saying “you just have to learn to live with it”, and since this is coming from a fifteen-year-old Latino kid who we know is picked on by bullies for all sorts of reasons and who faces racism and homophobia? He knows what he’s talking about. He’s bitter about what’s been said and done, he’s not stating it like it’s a good thing.
Yes, absolutely, this speech is a product of its time, but it’s a product of its time that speaks of defiance and says “We aren’t what we’re said to be,” and in the year this was published? That’s a good message.
tl;dr The Other is good, actually, and Mertil and Gafinilan are incredible characters who deserve all the love they could possibly get.
#animorphs#animorphs meta#mertil/gafinilan#mertil#gafinilan#mertil-iscar-elmand#gafinilan-estrif-valad
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“Abominable neglect and unkindness”: Fanny Price and Trauma
I have C-PTSD, and it’s really been on my mind as I’ve been rereading Mansfield Park by Jane Austen: her heroine of Fanny Price is so OBVIOUSLY traumatized that I started making notes upon notes upon notes in my kindle copy on her symptoms and their causes. A couple of my followers said they’d be interested to read my analysis if I wrote it up, and it doesn’t take much to encourage me to put a few thousand words on the page screen! So below is my (probably WAY too long) analysis of Fanny Price’s emotional trauma and complex PTSD (a form of PTSD often caused by long-term emotional abuse/neglect). It’s hella long. sorrynotsorry lol
*unleashes inner academic*
Part 1: How Fanny Price Was Traumatized
Trauma 1: She is taken from family and home.
Okay, imagine this: You’re ten years old. You grew up in a noisy, lower-middle-class family with multiple little siblings and both your parents. You are the oldest girl, and are important to all the members of your family because you act as “playfellow, instructress, and nurse” to your younger siblings. You are also “exceedingly timid and shy”. And suddenly you find out that your mother is SENDING YOU AWAY--far, far away--to aunts and uncle and cousins you’ve never met before, to be raised by THEM instead of your parents. Leaving everything else out of the equation for a second, that by itself would be ABSOLUTELY DEVASTATING. You would feel like your parents didn’t love you and didn’t want you. You weren’t important to them. You might wonder what you did wrong to be sent away. And THEN it turns out you’re NEVER COMING BACK. EVER. Fanny doesn’t see her family again until she is, I think nineteen years old. At first, she doesn’t even have the means to write to her brother William, which was to be her ONLY connection to her family: it seems her parents don’t write to her at all over the course of the novel.
All of this would be bad enough. But to come to a place that was entirely alien to everything you had known... I mean, think about it. This is Mansfield Park, an ENORMOUS house with MANY servants, a completely different way of doing things. There’s MONEY. Even the items around you are of a totally different quality than you’re used to: Austen says of Fanny’s initial impression of Mansfield, “The grandeur of the house astonished, but could not console her. The rooms were too large for her to move in with ease: whatever she touched she expected to injure, and she crept about in constant terror of something or other; often retreating towards her own chamber to cry.” The accent people speak with is probably different. The vocabulary is probably different. And everybody DEFINITELY thought she was under-educated (more about this in a bit) because she didn’t have the education of a gentleman’s daughter--because she ISN’T a gentleman’s daughter. It must have caused her intense culture shock.
Trauma 2: William’s absence
It’s clear that in her childhood in Portsmouth, William is the dearest member of Fanny’s family (see below for a discussion of her parents). When Fanny first arrives at Mansfield, Edmund discovers that,
dear as all these brothers and sisters generally were, there was one among them who ran more in her thoughts than the rest. It was William whom she talked of most, and wanted most to see. William, the eldest, a year older than herself, her constant companion and friend; her advocate with her mother (of whom he was the darling) in every distress. ‘William did not like she should come away; he had told her he should miss her very much indeed.’
Fanny’s one really warm and loving connection seems to be with William, and she is parted from him, first by her move to Mansfield, and then by his going to sea:
Once, and once only, in the course of many years, had she the happiness of being with William. Of the rest [of her Portsmouth family] she saw nothing: nobody seemed to think of her ever going amongst them again, even for a visit, nobody at home seemed to want her; but William determining, soon after her removal, to be a sailor, was invited to spend a week with his sister in Northamptonshire before he went to sea. Their eager affection in meeting, their exquisite delight in being together, their hours of happy mirth, and moments of serious conference, may be imagined; as well as ...the misery of the girl when he left her. Luckily the visit happened in the Christmas holidays, when she could directly look for comfort to her cousin Edmund.
Fanny continues a correspondence with William when he is at sea, but it’s clear that his long absence from her life is very difficult for her.
One final note on her being parted from her family for long intervals: I think we might actually see a sign of this trauma in an emotional flashback later in the book.
For those unfamiliar with complex PTSD, flashbacks don’t always mean that you have a sort of hallucination of a traumatic experience. In the case of complex PTSD and PTSD from early childhood trauma, flashbacks often occur in the form of “emotional flashbacks”: instead of re-experiencing the sensory input of the traumatic experience (seeing and hearing the experience all over again when triggered), emotional flashbacks consist ONLY of the emotional content of the trauma. They result in sudden rushes of negative emotions such as fear, shame, sorrow, despair, embarrassment, anger, etc. This may be partly because the trigger is acting on so many different traumatic memories at once (the brain can’t just pick out one to show to you) and partly because the traumatic memory being triggered is from so early in your childhood that you don’t have a direct memory of it anymore, just the trauma memory. Emotional flashbacks can be identified by comparing the emotional response to the stimulus: If the emotion is inappropriate for the situation or inappropriately intense, it may well be a flashback.
In this scene, Miss Crawford--whom Fanny does not care for at all--is taking her leave of Fanny: I find it to be illuminating.
And embracing her very affectionately, “Good, gentle Fanny! when I think of this being the last time of seeing you for I do not know how long, I feel it quite impossible to do anything but love you.”
Fanny was affected. She had not foreseen anything of this, and her feelings could seldom withstand the melancholy influence of the word “last.” She cried as if she had loved Miss Crawford more than she possibly could.
It sounds to me as if Fanny is having a negative reaction that is out of proportion for and inappropriate to the situation. Miss Crawford is leaving, and Fanny is GLAD that she is leaving. Nonetheless, she is involuntarily emotionally “affected” by Miss Crawford’s goodbye, and cries far more than is actually in keeping with her feelings. It seems like Fanny is triggered by the leave-taking and “the melancholy influence of the word ‘last’.” Fanny has had traumatic leave-takings from her family and her beloved William; and things like “This is the last time I’ll see you for who knows how long” must have been said to her before in intensely traumatic situations. So it’s no wonder she gets triggered by this situation’s similarity to those and has an out-sized emotional response. Separations from her family and from William were definitely traumatic to her and reminders of them now trigger trauma responses.
Trauma 3: Emotional neglect by parental figures
Fanny might not have been so badly traumatized by leaving her family and being separated from William if she had had emotional support from adult caregivers. Research has shown that if a child has even ONE adult to whom they can talk openly about their feelings, that can insulate them against the effects of trauma.
Fanny doesn’t have this. Both Sir Thomas and Lady Bertram are emotionally neglectful and distant.* Lady Bertram is pleasant, but is entirely self-centered and doesn’t really GAF about anybody or anything that doesn’t directly affect her. While she never abuses or hurts Fanny with unkindness, she also never comforts her, listens to her, or seems to do anything but get Fanny to fetch and carry for her and do half her sewing for her. There is a total lack of emotional connection between them until considerably later in the story.
[*Footnote: Miss Lee is surprisingly absent from the narrative and seems to be of no emotional support to Fanny whatsoever.]
Sir Thomas is worse. While he intends to take good care of Fanny--and to his credit, he does make sure she has her material needs met, is well educated, gets exercise, etc--he cannot be said to be NICE to her. Even when she first arrives, when he is trying his hardest to be kind, Austen says, “Sir Thomas, seeing how much she needed encouragement, tried to be all that was conciliating: but he had to work against a most untoward gravity of deportment.” He’s not good with kids, and he seems to be highly critical of Fanny, especially before his return from Antigua. Apparently he used to terrify her in childhood by catechizing her on her lessons in French in English, which implies he constantly found her wanting. His parting words to her on the beginning of his voyage to Antigua are downright scalding: “If William does come to Mansfield, I hope you may be able to convince him that the many years which have passed since you parted have not been spent on your side entirely without improvement; though, I fear, he must find his sister at sixteen in some respects too much like his sister at ten.”
JFC, Tommy-boy. Throttle back a little, can’t you?
He’s not popular even with his own daughters: Austen says of Maria and Julia, “Their father was no object of love to them; he had never seemed the friend of their pleasures, and his absence was unhappily most welcome. They were relieved by it from all restraint”. Sir Thomas comes across as a bit of a martinet, always finding fault and always saying no. At best, he doesn’t seem to be at all warm and encouraging, and appears to be almost entirely ignorant, not only of what Fanny’s character is like, but also about his own daughters’ characters.
There’s also the problem of his lack of understanding and compassion for Fanny. She describes him as “all that was clever and good,” but both his cleverness and goodness frequently seem to be lacking. He doesn’t understand Fanny’s feelings any more than he understands those of Maria, sending Edmund to sound Fanny out on the subject of Mr. Crawford because he CANNOT understand how a woman might not love a man that was clever, pleasant and rich. While he provided the money to raise Fanny, his disregard of her is clear when he sends her on a long visit to Portsmouth, where her health suffers. Even Crawford recognizes Sir Thomas’s likeliness to neglect her:
I know Mansfield, I know its way, I know its faults towards you. I know the danger of your being so far forgotten, as to have your comforts give way to the imaginary convenience of any single being in the family. I am aware that you may be left here week after week, if Sir Thomas cannot settle everything ... without involving the slightest alteration of the arrangements which he may have laid down for the next quarter of a year.
Sir Thomas, while priding himself (and being praised by others) as being so kind and clever, has low emotional intelligence and too little care for Fanny. Despite his occasional kindnesses, and her claim on his care as his direct dependent, she is not one of his priorities.
Of course, Fanny’s own parents would have had the strongest effects on her earliest years (especially considering the Prices didn’t seem to have a nanny or governess, so Mrs. Price would have been responsible for all her education, as well). It’s clear that Fanny’s mother didn’t show her much love in her early childhood: Mrs. Price is described as
“the ‘mama’ who had certainly shewn no remarkable fondness for her formerly; but this [Fanny] could easily suppose to have been her own fault or her own fancy. She had probably alienated love by the helplessness and fretfulness of a fearful temper, or been unreasonable in wanting a larger share than any one among so many could deserve.”
We can see Fanny here doing what so many emotionally neglected children do, making excuses for their parents and assuming that the emotional neglect and abuse they suffer are somehow THEIR fault. Many emotionally abused or neglected children believe that they’re too loud, too needy, too much, and even ugly, blaming themselves for their parents’ rejecting and disgusted behavior toward them.
It’s proven, however, when Fanny goes home, that her parents are just as neglectful of her as she felt them to be formerly. Her father is “negligent of his family”, and her mother clearly does not really love her:
Mrs. Price was not unkind; but, instead of gaining on her affection and confidence, and becoming more and more dear, her daughter never met with greater kindness from her than on the first day of her arrival. The instinct of nature was soon satisfied, and Mrs. Price’s attachment had no other source. Her heart and her time were already quite full; she had neither leisure nor affection to bestow on Fanny. Her daughters never had been much to her.* She was fond of her sons, especially of William, but Betsey was the first of her girls whom she had ever much regarded. To her she was most injudiciously indulgent. William was her pride; Betsey her darling; and John, Richard, Sam, Tom, and Charles occupied all the rest of her maternal solicitude, alternately her worries and her comforts. These shared her heart: her time was given chiefly to her house and her servants.
[*Footnote: I have to stop here for a moment and mention poor Susan, whom I like better at every reading. With Mrs. Price only loving her sons and Betsy, with Mary dead and Fanny gone, Susan was for years THE ONLY completely unloved child in the house, which must have been pretty awful. It’s clear that Fanny and Susan have suffered rather similar fates in being raised without love, and Susan only responds more with irritation and Fanny more with tears: “Susan was only acting on the same truths, and pursuing the same system, which [Fanny’s] own judgment acknowledged, but which her more supine and yielding temper would have shrunk from asserting. Susan tried to be useful, where she could only have gone away and cried”. Please tell me somebody’s written a sequel about Susan?]
Again, while Mr. and Mrs. Price are not CRUEL, they’re not KIND, either. They are deeply emotionally neglectful toward Susan and Fanny, and Mrs. Price shows favoritism for the rest of her children, thus hurting her daughters further. Fanny’s probable surmise when she was sent away that she was not loved or wanted by her parents unfortunately appears to be very true. While an adult like Fanny can rationalize such behavior by her parents (even if it pains her), a child cannot do so, and the Prices’ lack of love for their own daughter must have been traumatizing and contributed to her belief that she can never matter to anybody (more on this in a bit).
Trauma 4: Lack of Companionship: Maria and Julia (and Miss Lee)
Fanny’s education when she arrives at Mansfield is not that of a gentlewoman--hardly surprising, given both her family’s socioeconomic position and her mother’s busy-ness with her family and general indolence. Maria and Julia’s education on scholarly subjects is clearly much stronger (they’re also 2-3 years older than her), and we know that their moral education was neglected, so that they only care about whether Fanny is rich and well-educated like themselves:
They could not but hold her cheap on finding that she had but two sashes, and had never learned French; and when they perceived her to be little struck with the duet they were so good as to play, they could do no more than make her a generous present of some of their least valued toys, and leave her to herself, while they adjourned to whatever might be the favourite holiday sport of the moment, making artificial flowers or wasting gold paper.
They’re generous enough to give her presents (though their least-valued belongings), but not generous enough to actually spend time with her, and it appears that this pattern holds throughout Fanny’s time at Mansfield.
At first, Mrs. Norris, Sir Thomas, and Miss Lee all think her actually stupid instead of just ill-educated: we are told that not only did Miss Lee “[wonder] at her ignorance,” but
A mean opinion of her abilities was not confined to [Sir Thomas and Mrs. Norris]. Fanny could read, work [that means “sew”], and write, but she had been taught nothing more; and as her cousins found her ignorant of many things with which they had been long familiar, they thought her prodigiously stupid, and for the first two or three weeks were continually bringing some fresh report of it into the drawing-room.
You would think that the adults at least would realize that Fanny hadn’t had the opportunity of a gentlewoman’s education, but no, they attribute it to natural stupidity instead of opportunity:
“My dear,” their considerate aunt would reply, “it is very bad, but you must not expect everybody to be as forward and quick at learning as yourself.”
It is only Edmund who perceives that Fanny is not only NOT stupid, she’s actually clever:
He knew her to be clever, to have a quick apprehension as well as good sense, and a fondness for reading, which, properly directed, must be an education in itself. Miss Lee taught her French, and heard her read the daily portion of history; but he recommended the books which charmed her leisure hours, he encouraged her taste, and corrected her judgment: he made reading useful by talking to her of what she read, and heightened its attraction by judicious praise.
One wonders, if a sixteen-year-old boy hadn’t decided to undertake part of Fanny’s education himself, how much worse off would she have been?
That Fanny’s companionship fell almost entirely to a teenage boy six years her senior who spends most of the year away at boarding school/university, is a ringing indictment of the behavior of Maria and Julia, and of those who should have been encouraging them to make a friend of their cousin.
Trauma 5: Mrs Norris (who gets a fucking section all her own)
Here we are. We’ve finally come to it. The other four traumas would certainly have been sufficient to cause C-PTSD, but JFC, Mrs. Norris could have caused it all by her lonesome. While she comes across as amusing in Austen’s sardonic style, she is absolutely toxic for Fanny’s mental health.
Mrs. Norris seems to have had an out-sized effect on the three Mansfield girls. Generally, mothers were in charge of the education of their daughters (even if indirectly, through a governess), so while Sir Thomas did examine them on their lessons, it was really supposed to be Lady Bertram’s job to see to their practical and moral education. But Lady Bertram is an absolute zero, a completely passive character, and Austen says directly that, “To the education of her daughters Lady Bertram paid not the smallest attention.” So it seems like the much more active Mrs. Norris stepped in, and her influence was extremely strong with all three of them, despite her being married and having her own house and her own concerns for the first seven or so years of Fanny’s time at Mansfield.
We can see her influence with all three in the fact that all three of the Mansfield girls end up evaluating themselves in almost perfect accordance to how Mrs. Norris evaluated them. Maria, the golden child*, became very spoiled and proud and thought she could do almost whatever she wanted. Fanny, the scapegoat, came to believe that her only worth was in being “useful” (Mrs. Norris’s hobby-horse) and that she could never be of any importance to anybody. And Julia, while closer to Maria’s level of treatment than Fanny’s, also suffers from comparisons to the golden child:
That Julia escaped better than Maria was owing, in some measure, to a favourable difference of disposition and circumstance, but in a greater to her having been less the darling of that very aunt, less flattered and less spoilt. Her beauty and acquirements had held but a second place. She had been always used to think herself a little inferior to Maria.
[*footnote: Treating one child as the golden child and one as the scapegoat is a very common tactic of abusive caregivers. The scapegoat becomes entirely worn down in self-esteem so that she is powerless to fight back against the abuse. The golden child and other children see how the scapegoat is treated and try hard not to rock the boat because they don’t want to end up like that.]
Mrs. Norris teaches Fanny from the beginning to judge and reject her own natural emotions. On her first traumatic separation from her family, Mrs. Norris lectures her incessantly on how she ought to be HAPPY, not sad:
Mrs. Norris had been talking to her the whole way from Northampton of her wonderful good fortune, and the extraordinary degree of gratitude and good behaviour which it ought to produce, and her consciousness of misery was therefore increased by the idea of its being a wicked thing for her not to be happy.
Fanny is taught to regard her own natural feelings as “wicked”, especially when they are a negative reaction to how the Bertram/Norris family treats her. While she can see some of her own feelings as just--when they have been sanctioned by Edmund’s judgment--any feeling that tends away from perfect gratitude toward the Bertram/Norris family she immediately rejects as an immoral response. She frequently takes herself to task at these moments. Anger and resentment are natural responses meant to help us protect ourselves against mistreatment from others, and this self-defending response is entirely squelched by Mrs. Norris’s behavior to her.
Mrs. Norris’s behavior toward Fanny is not only emotionally abusive; it is also at least physically neglectful, if not physically abusive. Despite the fact that everyone agrees that Fanny “is not strong”, Mrs. Norris makes a lot of difficulties in Edmund’s attempts to make sure Fanny has a horse to ride, and also refuses to allow Fanny a fire in the East Room, even in the middle of winter, a privation that ever Sir Thomas thinks bad enough that he countermands it--though doing so with a little explanatory disclaimer to Fanny explaining why Mrs. Norris MEANS well and why Fanny shouldn’t dare to be angry, or indeed anything but immensely and forever grateful for their neglectful treatment of her:
Your aunt Norris has always been an advocate, and very judiciously, for young people’s being brought up without unnecessary indulgences; but there should be moderation in everything. She is also very hardy herself, which of course will influence her in her opinion of the wants of others. And on another account, too, I can perfectly comprehend. I know what her sentiments have always been. The principle was good in itself, but it may have been, and I believe has been, carried too far in your case. I am aware that there has been sometimes, in some points, a misplaced distinction; but I think too well of you, Fanny, to suppose you will ever harbour resentment on that account. You have an understanding which will prevent you from receiving things only in part, and judging partially by the event. You will take in the whole of the past, you will consider times, persons, and probabilities, and you will feel that they were not least your friends who were educating and preparing you for that mediocrity of condition which seemed to be your lot. Though their caution may prove eventually unnecessary, it was kindly meant; and of this you may be assured, that every advantage of affluence will be doubled by the little privations and restrictions that may have been imposed. I am sure you will not disappoint my opinion of you, by failing at any time to treat your aunt Norris with the respect and attention that are due to her.
~*GAAASSSSS-LIGHTINNNNGGGGGGG*~
“Oh, shit, you’ve been freezing to death here for years because your aunt’s an abusive asshole. Oh, but there are three million excuses for her, and also you’re SO GOOD AND GRATEFUL that I KNOW you’ll never allow yourself to see it for the abuse it was, and aren’t you so GRATEFUL to us all for everything we’ve done for you? We MEANT well. And being abused was good for you anyway. If you ever get mad at your abusers I’ll treat you with withering criticism.”
*gagggg* I could write an entire essay explicating the gaslighting in that passage ALONE.
I could go on and on about Mrs. Norris’s abusive behavior toward Fanny, but I think most of it’s perfectly obvious to the reader. I think a very interesting argument might be made on whether Mrs. Norris would count as having a form of narcissistic personality disorder--always worried about her own importance, living through her golden child Maria, taking everything out on her scapegoat, insisting always on associating her own value with that of Sir Thomas and Lady Bertram and insisting on Fanny’s status being lower because her own self-esteem is dependent on being as good as her sister Bertram and better than her sister Price. Might be interesting.
Part 2: Fanny Price’s Trauma Responses
Complex emotional trauma expresses itself in a number of symptoms and behaviors. We’ve already talked about emotional flashbacks, and I’m going to look at four more major aspects of Fanny’s trauma responses.
Anxiety and Hypervigilance
People with PTSD often suffer from hypervigilance, where their body is constantly on high alert for threats in their environment. These threats are not only physical threats (resulting in things like jumping really hard at sudden noises) but also interpersonal threats. For instance, whenever I hear people talking really quietly in my house, I stop whatever I’m doing and listen REALLY HARD because I’m worried they’re talking about me and it’s gonna be bad.
Fanny exhibits this same behavior when she has retreated to the East Room when Crawford is in the house to propose to her:
She sat some time in a good deal of agitation, listening, trembling, and fearing to be sent for every moment; but as no footsteps approached the East room, she grew gradually composed, could sit down, and be able to employ herself, and able to hope that Mr. Crawford had come and would go without her being obliged to know anything of the matter.
Nearly half an hour had passed, and she was growing very comfortable, when suddenly the sound of a step in regular approach was heard; a heavy step, an unusual step in that part of the house: it was her uncle’s; she knew it as well as his voice; she had trembled at it as often, and began to tremble again, at the idea of his coming up to speak to her, whatever might be the subject. It was indeed Sir Thomas who opened the door and asked if she were there, and if he might come in. The terror of his former occasional visits to that room seemed all renewed, and she felt as if he were going to examine her again in French and English.
Her trembling at the sound of her uncle’s footsteps looks like hypervigilance, and the fact of her childhood “terror” being “renewed” sounds like she’s having another flashback, since she so strongly associates the presence of her uncle in the East Room with those painful childhood visits. She reacts with physical symptoms of stress, trembling at his approach.
Fanny’s anxiety and hypervigilance also demonstrates itself in her being constantly convinced that people are going to be angry with her. When she turns Mr. Crawford down, for instance, she is CONVINCED that Miss Crawford is going to be furious with her, and fears to meet with her. Edmund tells her Miss Crawford isn’t REALLY angry with her, but cannot convince her:
The promised visit from “her friend,” as Edmund called Miss Crawford, was a formidable threat to Fanny, and she lived in continual terror of it. As a sister, so partial and so angry, and so little scrupulous of what she said... she was in every way an object of painful alarm. ...The dependence of having others present when they met was Fanny’s only support in looking forward to it. She absented herself as little as possible from Lady Bertram, kept away from the East room, and took no solitary walk in the shrubbery, in her caution to avoid any sudden attack.
Fanny is so terrified of a polite confrontation with Miss Crawford, whom she has never seen angry before, that she spends DAYS trying to never be alone so that she’ll feel protected by the presence of company! Of course, when Miss Crawford DOES visit, she’s nothing but friendly. But Fanny’s PTSD couldn’t allow her to believe that until it happened. Her anxiety is intense, and this sort of thing happens repeatedly over the course of the novel.
Over-accommodation of others / people-pleasing
Childhood emotional trauma frequently leads to people-pleasing behavior: doing what you do not want to do simply because someone else wants you to. To understand this, you have to put yourself into the point of view of a very young child or an infant. Children depend entirely on their caregivers for survival: they are aware of this on an instinctive level. If the caregiver shows them very conditional love, only appearing pleased with them when the child does things they like and displeased when the child does things that inconvenience them, the child quickly learns that they need to please their caregivers in order to survive. “Mom gets angry when I cry--Mom doesn’t like me to cry--if Mom gets angry at me, I could starve to death--I need to not cry.” Obviously this line of thinking happens on a subconscious rather than a conscious level, but it’s incredibly powerful nonetheless. I have found myself in situations where a person with some kind of power over me--a doctor, for instance--shows displeasure with something I say to them, and I INSTANTLY find myself backing off, making light of it, taking back everything I said, etc, even though I very much meant it and it needed to be said. The people-pleasing instinct is very strong and difficult to overcome.
In Fanny’s case, it isn’t just a matter of her caregivers showing her inconsistent love in early childhood. Even as an adult, she is fully aware that she needs to please the Bertrams, or she--and her family!--are SCREWED. She is entirely financially dependent on the Bertrams. If she displeases them, not only can they make her life at Mansfield even MORE uncomfortable than it already is, but they can send her back to Portsmouth. Even worse, they could stop their financial support of William and the financial support they are periodically sending to the rest of her family. Huge things hang on Fanny’s pleasing the Bertrams, and it’s small wonder she has developed the habit of trying to please everybody constantly (even her un-pleasable Aunt Norris).
Fanny repeatedly does things she doesn’t want to do, simply because someone asks or tells her to, even if there’s likely to be no major consequences if she doesn’t. One example is on Miss Crawford’s last visit to Mansfield, when Fanny is trying her darnedest to avoid speaking with her alone:
[Miss Crawford] was determined to see Fanny alone, and therefore said to her tolerably soon, in a low voice, “I must speak to you for a few minutes somewhere”; words that Fanny felt all over her, in all her pulses and all her nerves. Denial was impossible. Her habits of ready submission, on the contrary, made her almost instantly rise and lead the way out of the room. She did it with wretched feelings, but it was inevitable.
Fanny doesn’t want to talk to Miss Crawford alone. Fanny doesn’t NEED to talk to Miss Crawford alone. Fanny could stall, perhaps until Miss Crawford left. Nonetheless, the MOMENT Miss Crawford asks it of her, Fanny does it--even though she’s clearly terrified, feeling it “in all her pulses and all her nerves” (more on this physical reaction later). She acts almost like Ella Enchanted: she literally can’t say no.
Likewise, she doesn’t take opportunities she is offered to do things that she DOES wish to do. After a very long description of how much she wants to dance one evening, when her only chance of a partner is Tom, the following exchange occurs:
When he had told of his horse, [Tom] took a newspaper from the table, and looking over it, said in a languid way, “If you want to dance, Fanny, I will stand up with you.” With more than equal civility the offer was declined; she did not wish to dance. “I am glad of it,” said he, in a much brisker tone, and throwing down the newspaper again, “for I am tired to death.”
Fanny DOES want to dance, and the way that he worded the question, she could very well have said, “Yes, please,” and gotten up to dance with him. He has made it obvious that he doesn’t want to dance, and she has picked up on this and said--not only that they don’t have to dance, but the LIE that she doesn’t WANT to dance--in order to please him. Later Austen points Tom out as a hypocrite when he complains, “It raises my spleen more than anything, to have the pretence of being asked, of being given a choice, and at the same time addressed in such a way as to oblige one to do the very thing, whatever it be!” But while it is true that Tom left Fanny LITTLE choice in the matter, it is also true that a stronger character, like Miss Crawford, could probably have found a way to say that she DID want to dance, even with such an unencouraging questioner. Fanny cannot do this: she has been conditioned all her life to give in to people--because her very SURVIVAL has depended on it.
In particular, Mrs. Norris has squelched Fanny’s independence of spirit very firmly. At one point she observes, very unfairly,
There is a something about Fanny, I have often observed it before—she likes to go her own way to work; she does not like to be dictated to; she takes her own independent walk whenever she can; she certainly has a little spirit of secrecy, and independence, and nonsense, about her, which I would advise her to get the better of.”
As a general reflection on Fanny, Sir Thomas thought nothing could be more unjust.
Obviously, Mrs. Norris is completely wrong about this. But as long as she can project* the fault of independence on Fanny, and punish Fanny for this false fault, she can prevent her from ever developing it. By picking on the least little supposed sign of independence and harping on it for ages, Mrs. Norris can prevent Fanny from ever developing a will of her own.
[*Footnote: this is another thing narcissists do: they project their own bad behavior on to others. Mrs. Norris is definitely not secretive, but she is very “independent” and has a lot of “nonsense”--instead of consulting with others about what they actually need in any given situation, she TELLS them. She has no spirit of cooperation, and all her “services” to others tend to be officious and useless.]
Low self-esteem
I thought about putting this together with the section on Mrs. Norris, because Fanny’s self-esteem has been so much shaped by her aunt. This is the kind of message Mrs. Norris is constantly drilling into her about the lowness of her importance:
The nonsense and folly of people’s stepping out of their rank and trying to appear above themselves, makes me think it right to give you a hint, Fanny, now that you are going into company without any of us; and I do beseech and entreat you not to be putting yourself forward, and talking and giving your opinion as if you were one of your cousins—as if you were dear Mrs. Rushworth or Julia. That will never do, believe me. Remember, wherever you are, you must be the lowest and last.
This message is so entirely in keeping with the messages Mrs. Norris has been indoctrinating Fanny with over the years that she has fully internalized it. When a primary caregiver tells you over and over again that you do not matter to anyone, you come to believe it:
[Fanny:] “I can never be important to any one.”
[Edmund:] “What is to prevent you?”
“Everything. My situation, my foolishness and awkwardness.”
“As to your foolishness and awkwardness, my dear Fanny, believe me, you never have a shadow of either, but in using the words so improperly. There is no reason in the world why you should not be important where you are known. You have good sense, and a sweet temper, and I am sure you have a grateful heart, that could never receive kindness without wishing to return it. I do not know any better qualifications for a friend and companion.”
“You are too kind,” said Fanny, colouring at such praise; “how shall I ever thank you as I ought, for thinking so well of me.”
Fanny’s “I can never be important to any one” sounds very much like a triggered teenager sobbing, “Nobody will ever love me!” even while friends next to her are demonstrating that they DO love her. The survivor of this kind of abuse comes to a place where their beliefs do not reflect reality because their beliefs instead reflect the intense emotional rejection they have received from their main caregivers*. Fanny is important to Edmund, William, and Lady Bertram, but is convinced that she not only is NOT important to ANYONE, but never CAN be. She also convinced that she is foolish and awkward, probably by the early experiences at Mansfield when she didn’t know all the intricate rules of high society and was far behind Maria and Julia in her education. Fanny, though she is extremely shy, manages to carry off most things with surprising grace, and she is clever and has a wisdom and common sense in some things far beyond her years. Yet she is CERTAIN that she is “foolish and awkward”, because she has been repeatedly called so by authority figures in her life and almost all of her family at Mansfield.
[*Footnote: these extreme beliefs are often couched in “black-and-white” language: “EVERYBODY hates me, NOBODY loves me, I’ll NEVER be able to do it right, I’ll be alone FOREVER”. We can hear this in Fanny’s “I can NEVER be of importance to ANY ONE”.]
Fanny not only thinks very lowly of herself, she also is afraid of being praised or of anything that could possibly raise her self-esteem. For instance, in a discussion with Edmund, she explains why she never wants anybody to notice her:
[Edmund:] “Your uncle is disposed to be pleased with you in every respect; and I only wish you would talk to him more. You are one of those who are too silent in the evening circle.”
[Fanny:] “But I do talk to him more than I used. I am sure I do. Did not you hear me ask him about the slave-trade last night?”
“I did—and was in hopes the question would be followed up by others. It would have pleased your uncle to be inquired of farther.”
“And I longed to do it—but there was such a dead silence! And while my cousins were sitting by without speaking a word, or seeming at all interested in the subject, I did not like—I thought it would appear as if I wanted to set myself off at their expense, by shewing a curiosity and pleasure in his information which he must wish his own daughters to feel.”
“Miss Crawford was very right in what she said of you the other day: that you seemed almost as fearful of notice and praise as other women were of neglect.”
She is literally fearful of notice and praise--because Mrs. Norris has told her repeatedly throughout her life that she must NEVER shine more than Maria or Julia, must NEVER take attention away from them--a sort of vicarious narcissism. And Fanny feels that to receive a compliment, to state her own opinions, or even to TALK much in company is “stepping out of her place”, the high crime and misdemeanor of Mrs. Norris’s upbringing.
I was raised by a narcissistic caretaker, and I am sometimes suddenly overwhelmed with terror that I’m taking too much attention to myself and that I’m therefore BAD somehow. Because a narcissist (or their proxy, the golden child) must always be the center of attention, the scapegoat is emotionally punished for ever taking the spotlight. Mrs. Norris is disposed to be upset when Sir Thomas holds a dance in Fanny’s honor, and is only reconciled to it because SHE will be able to make herself the center of attention in the preparations.*
[*Footnote: I think another argument can be made for Mrs. Norris’s narcissism in her response to Crawford’s proposal to Fanny:
Angry she was: bitterly angry; but she was more angry with Fanny for having received such an offer than for refusing it. It was an injury and affront to Julia, who ought to have been Mr. Crawford’s choice; and, independently of that, she disliked Fanny, because she had neglected her; and she would have grudged such an elevation to one whom she had been always trying to depress.
Mrs. Norris is DETERMINED to put Fanny down, as the scapegoat, and is offended that one of her golden children (her emotional stand-in) is shown less honor in this situation than the scapegoat. For the scapegoat to be elevated and her narcissistic stand-in to be neglected induces a narcissistic rage.]
“Sensibility” and High Sensitivity
In the 18th century, a theory and “culture of sensibility” grew up in places like Britain, France, Holland, and the British colonies. Encyclopedia.com’s article on sensibility states, “Sensibility (and ‘sensible’ and ‘sentiment’) connoted the operation of the nervous system, the material basis for consciousness.” But the workings of the nervous system, they believed, affected more than just the physical body. Some people, it was held, had greater sensibility than others: their nerves were more easily affected by not only physical but also emotional and moral input, and they responded accordingly--not just in word and in deed, but in tears, blushes, trembling, fainting, etc. It was believed that people’s emotional responses AND physical responses could tell you something about their physical AND moral makeup. A truly modest woman, for instance, would blush and look confused when confronted with something that offended her maidenly modesty. A woman--or indeed, man--who was truly moral and “sensible” would be emotionally affected by something sad, such as a tale of oppression, to the point of openly weeping. A heroine of sensibility would most likely faint if threatened with something she found, not only physically frightening, but morally abhorrent (such as a forced marriage). This is part of the reason for what seems to use like excessive emotional reactions in some 18th-century novels: the writer is demonstrating her characters’ moral superiority through their physical sensibility.*
[*Footnote: Encyclopedia.com adds, “The coexistence of reason and feeling was assumed, but the proportion of each was endlessly debated, above all because of what many saw as the dangers of unleashed feelings... [After the French Revolution,] The debate over the proportions of reason and feeling in persons of sensibility was politicized, and the need for women to channel their feelings toward moral and domestic goals was reemphasized. The word ‘sentimental,’ which had been used positively, became a label for ‘excessive sensibility’ and self-indulgence.” We can see this conflict clearly in Austen’s Sense and Sensibility!]
There is, in fact, a modern equivalent to the 18th century idea of sensibility: the concept of the Highly Sensitive Person (HSP) or Sensory Processing Sensitivity (SPS). First proposed by Elaine Aron's book The Highly Sensitive Person (1996), the theory suggests that SPS
is a temperamental or personality trait involving "an increased sensitivity of the central nervous system and a deeper cognitive processing of physical, social and emotional stimuli". The trait is characterized by "a tendency to 'pause to check' in novel situations, greater sensitivity to subtle stimuli, and the engagement of deeper cognitive processing strategies for employing coping actions, all of which is driven by heightened emotional reactivity, both positive and negative". (wikipedia)
While some people have mocked this theory as pseudoscience, Aron is by no means the only researcher to have studied it, and a great many people who suffered from people telling them “You’re too sensitive” when they were hurt have taken comfort in the positive affirmation that high sensitivity is a natural phenomenon and can even at times be regarded as a strength rather than a character flaw.
It seems to me that there is a good deal of overlap between those who self-identify or may be identified as HSPs and those who have C-PTSD. Whether this is because greater emotional sensitivity leads to a greater incidence of traumatic responses to negative experiences, or whether high sensitivity is itself a product of repeated childhood trauma, I can’t say. (Heck, it could even be that the HSP’s belief that they’re over-sensitive comes from childhood gaslighting!)
What I can say is that Fanny Price exhibits, not only hypervigilance, but also what Austen would call “great sensibility” and I would call “SPS”. Fanny has the greatest sensibility of any character in the entire novel, even Edmund: she judges more clearly on moral matters than Edmund or Sir Thomas, and has the strongest physical and emotional reactions to stimuli. She seems to be constantly blushing, trembling, or tearing up. This is not only painful to modern readers (who, if they’re not pained by sympathizing with her, may well be pained by what seems to them a lack of proper 21st-century backbone in a main character) but is clearly highly uncomfortable at times to Fanny herself. She might be able to pride herself on her moral discernment (not that Fanny would EVER pride herself on ANYTHING), and she may be in transports of happiness when something good, like William’s arrival or promotion, occur, but she is often “cast down” as well by things that seem to others like trifles. We see this not only in her hypervigilance but also in the depression and the black-and-white thinking which are often the products of trauma. Edmund observes to her, “It is your disposition to be easily dejected and to fancy difficulties greater than they are.” Fanny’s apparent high sensitivity may be just a natural trait (made worse by trauma) or may itself be a product of trauma.
Conclusions
At the end of all this, I’m really not sure what I think about Fanny’s “happy ending”. On one hand, she gets what she’s always wanted in life: companionate marriage with Edmund, valued by Sir Thomas and Lady Bertram, with Mrs. Norris (and Maria) gone forever, and Julia and Tom chastened and better behaved. It seems perfect for her. But a little voice inside of me keeps saying how very unlikely it is. People rarely change as much as Sir Thomas does in the book--and in fact, we are only assured by Austen that Sir Thomas comes to value Fanny more: we don’t actually SEE it. I can’t help but feel that Fanny must still have been subject to ongoing gaslighting about how she was brought up and about respect toward Mrs. Norris and himself. Fanny got what she thought she wanted, but at the same time, she didn’t get free. Especially considering that Austen goes out of her way to say that things COULD have turned out differently and that Fanny and Crawford COULD have been happy together, I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if Fanny had ended up with the ONLY person in the entire book who truly recognizes how badly she has been treated at Mansfield Park:
[Crawford]: And they will now see their cousin treated as she ought to be, and I wish they may be heartily ashamed of their own abominable neglect and unkindness.
#jane austen#mansfield park#trauma#c-ptsd#literature#tired and shagged out following a prolonged squawk
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Sorry not to be rude ( I prolly worded this better in my head lol ) but when people say "isayama doesn't owe us anything" fr writing a bad ending or whatever, I laugh because he does??? ?? We are the audience , aot is source of income where do you think the money comes from? A fucking tree? It's a give & take relationship. As viewers we have the very right to criticize and ask for a better ending but in 139's case that's not even good enough, we need proper explanation for so many plot holes hello?? Even Isa himself believes that he needs to make the majority happy which is precisely why he went online searching for reviewed and comments from ppl. That's why it's a fan service ending bc the vast majority are either Ems who thrash ehs or ship em by default + ema Stans. And yes he did admit to making changes due to his editors in the past and if that ain't evident enough for the possibility that the ending in fact was charged last minute. Yes isayama can make mistake he is a human and he even said he regrets the ending which clearly tells us that it's the not the ending he wanted. Idk ppl be like "fans think as if they can make better ending" but yes it's true they can actually🤨 , if Isa himself isn't happy with it that means someone else CAN in fact make a better ending because surprise surprise Isa isn't the ONLY ONE with an understanding to his story and decent reading comprehension. It's okay to admit the ending was bad just because the entire series until that point has been a masterpiece, criticism isn't disrespectful it's having common sense to not blindly love what your favs puts out. Em Shipers are now screaming "y'all don't understand the interview" the fuck? How long are they gonna gaslight EHS even after continually getting what they want when are they gonna stop acting like it's not just EHs who didn't like the ending. Eh, Eren being the father made sense for the plotline, unbiased people can have no trouble admitting that. Em was picked up from the trash as a wallmart version of Romeo & Juliet ( even then they lacked "true love" concept by 100% ) at the cost of mikasa's character development. I remember defending 138 and I quote myself saying "isayama gave Mikasa the development of a lifetime" but now I can't even say that anymore because caniconally there is no evidence that supports that anymore. And I'm open to Mikasa critcisism bc i actually cared about her as an individual character. The way the news of Eren X Mikasa love comedy upseted me is because even as a joke we are gonna be stuck in that "Mikasa showed Erne how to love 😍😍💔" agenda with that collection 🤢🤢. Whatever the fuck I do not care anymore ( but I really do ) I just hope what we get for rivamika adds to the theory of Mikasa moving on and does not mess up our healing pace as fandom, I rest my case. 🕳️🏃♀️
Hi my dear @ackermanshoe and thank you for this looong ask!
Okay joking apart, I agree with you. “Isayama doesn’t owe us anything” doesn’t make sense; when you post something online, it isn’t yours anymore. AOT is famous worldwide, he hasn’t written it just to keep it in a drawer of his desk. He’s giving us something, which is the time and “effort” he puts in creating the story, and we are giving him something else, popularity and money, that obviously doesn’t make happiness but we must accept that it is important. I don’t think he’s the type of person that just cares about the money; if he was, he would have stopped with season 3 but despite the fact that he was tired he decided to give aot a conclusion with the last arc that unfortunately ended the way we know. So I think that something happened; for me, it’s both his readers’ and editor’s fault. He probably saw many of them disliking the Marley Arc and when the editor talked with him about Erem*ka and the other fanservice shits we got in 139, he just said “ok fine” since he was tired of everyone. Rereading 139, the Erem*ka scenes really look like some kind of sarcastic criticisms towards their relationship. It looks like he made fun of it since everything is really absurd and stupid. And even if he didn’t owe us anything, we would have had the right to express our disappointment; when you work with audience you have to be ready to accept compliments and criticisms. Those excuses to me sounds like the words of an e* that doesn’t accept others opinion about their “canon” ship ☠🤡 They don’t understand that it’s not about shipping, everyone who just looked deeper into the story and wanted and expected the best for the last chapter didn’t like it, even non shippers. Some say it’s fine because everyone is alive but i don’t understand how can you say they are alive when their characters were fucking ruined, they are physically alive but those are not the characters we knew, especially Eren. Even non shippers said that Erehisu made more sense than E*, their ship is completely baseless; we have not misinterpreted the story for 11 years it was just obvious that Eren didn’t love Mikasa; it was confirmed various times that he saw her as a mum and not as a lover and where’s this extreme care he felt for Historia. When did he show that care for Mikasa ☠🤡??? He was ready to kill all his friends, including her. And the “Mikasa taught Eren how to love” is so disgusting that i can’t believe someone actually has the audacity to say that. What love? Does it look like love to you? When you love someone you want the their happiness and Eren said that he didn’t want Mikasa to be happy. He treated her like an object and that’s not romantic, AT ALL. It’s not about shipping it’s just that you have a completely wrong mentality if you think that treating a woman, a man, or basically a breathing human being like that is fine. Mikasa deserves more than a man like Eren, she deserves someone that respects her and loves her. I can’t believe there’s someone in this world that thinks that it’s an healthy relationship. Look, if you are an Erem*ka shipper and you think that their relationship is fine you better leave my blog because, honestly, a person with this wrong mentality doesn’t deserve my respect. Now, I’m sorry for this long post, but I had to vent out my frustration about e*.
These are just opinions but I don’t regret a single word that is written here.
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First Thinspo Imagine
Topic: You get picked on at your current job, quit after enough, and see an old coworker months later
Today was another slow day at work at the hotel you were working at, and you were just about ready to clock out. “Hey y/n!” you hear a voice say from behind you. Shit, I was too slow. You turn around to see one of your coworkers standing there with a smirk on her face.
“I thought that was you, I just couldn’t tell for sure because of how bloated you look today. Ever think about losing a couple pounds? It might make everything about you easier on the eyes.” Her mocking laugh was almost as harsh as her words.
I just want to get out of here, I’m sick of being constantly mocked by her. She’s always poking fun at me. She laughs when I try to lose weight and laughs when I don’t, there’s no in-between. You started to see only red as you listened to her laugh, hearing others chime in. That’s it, I’m done. I can’t take this daily torment anymore.
You decided to just walk away at that point. You clocked out and walked up to your shift manager. “I’m done. I can’t do this. Everyone here is beyond toxic at this point, so take your shitty crew and shove it.” Taking in your anger, she meets your eyes. Panic washes over you as you think about how pissed she’d probably be. What the hell did I just say? I need to apologize. “I’m so-” You start, but she cuts you off.
“ You don’t need to apologize. I haven’t worked this shift before as I was just transferred, but you gotta do what you gotta do, right? I’m upset at the tone you used yes, but I see where you’re coming from.” As you looked at her, she took her time card, swiped it, and called her supervisor.
“Hey, I’m done. I don’t like the way most of this crew treats the others, and they don’t listen to me at all. I don’t care if this is my first day as this shift manager or not, find someone else.” She hangs up while looking at you and smiling. “I just got another job this morning and should’ve done that sooner. Let’s go!” You leave the building with her just thinking about everything.
Just as you were about to get in your car, you hear the supervisor behind you. “Hey, we should definitely hang out sometime, we’re pretty much the same age anyway right? I’ll text you when I get home.” She gets in her seat and drives away. Holy shit, that was...what? Did someone as pretty as her just ask me to be her friend? OMG YESSS!!!
~AFTER WORK~
You get home, walk in your parents house as you were only 17 and couldn’t move out quite yet, and go up to your room. Your phone goes off as you sit down, and it’s your supervisor! Well, technically your ex-supervisor. Hey, I just got home. I was wondering if maybe you’d want to make plans to hang out? It could be so much fun!
“Holy shit” you say aloud, rereading it to make sure you weren’t going crazy and it was actually happening. You decide on what you want to reply with. Hey, yeah sure, that sounds good. Should we head to the gym together maybe?
Oh gosh, what if she says no? Why’d I suggest the gym, I don’t even have a membership. Your phone goes off again with a response. Sure! What about the one over on the corner about 10 mins from the hotel? I have a membership there, and I’m allowed to bring someone with me. We could meet up in half an hour. That’s perfect!
That sounds like a plan then. I’ll meet you there. What should I wear? I don’t look good in anything right now. Well...how about this hoodie and these sweatpants? They’re not tight and they’ll hopefully work.
~AT THE GYM~
As you arrive at the gym, you walk in and see her waiting for you. She runs over to you and starts talking. “Hey! I figured after before you might still be mad at the ex-coworkers. Working out is a good stress reliever.” You nod in agreement as the both of you walk up to the counter to check in.
“Hey, I’ve got a membership here, this is my card. I’m bringing a friend today, she’s right here.” The receptionist looks you up and down, hands back the card, and says “You’re sure? She doesn’t look like she’s ever been in a gym before.” You look down in embarrassment, feeling your face heat up. “I’d like to speak to your manager really quickly before I go in please. Now.” Your friend says. “Sure thing, I’ll go get her right away then.”
Great, another person that thinks I’m fat. I’m going to workout and lose all of this weight. I’ll become the skinniest person out of everyone.
The manager walked out and went to your friend to talk. “Hello, is everything alright here? My employee said you’d like to speak to me?” “Yes, I did. This employee insulted my friend by criticizing her choice to come here and was extremely rude about it.” “Excuse me?!” The manager turns to the employee. “You’re fired. This isn’t the first time I’ve heard things like this, but I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. I want you to apologize, then go back and get your things.” She turns back to us “I apologize. I’ll give you both a free lifetime membership to our gym, and I hope you come back!”
The employee walked out without apologizing, but you weren’t really bothered. Things like this always happened. Both your friend and you walked into the gym and started using the equipment.
~THREE MONTHS LATER~
Things have actually been looking up for you lately. You got an apartment with your friend and turned 18 about a month ago. Looking in the mirror, you see a girl with collar bones visible, a thigh gap, sharp bony shoulders, and abs. You were tiny. As you stepped on the scale, you couldn’t believe it. You’d lost over 50lbs in the past 3 months by working out and cutting out sugars and different breads, which means you hit your goal weight of 93lbs. Just eating cleaner in general helped you.
There was an outfit hanging in your closet that you’d gotten for your 18th, but it hadn’t fit at the time. Putting on the XS long sleeved shirt, the size S skinny jeans, the necklace you’d gotten….it looked so good together. Your hair that you’d been growing out for about 3 years now (only getting it trimmed every now and then) was past your waist. Putting your hair into a high ponytail, you decided something. Maybe I’ll head to the café near here today. I haven’t been there before, so why not?
Going downstairs to get ready the rest of the way, you see that your friend doesn’t have work today. “Hey, I’m gonna head to the café that’s close by, you want to come? It’s not that long of a walk, maybe 15 mins.”
“Yeah sure, why not? Are you wearing makeup today? Something seems different about you, but I can’t put my finger on it.” “I’m really just happy today. I don’t really wear makeup, it clogs my pores really bad when I try.” She nods and you both head out the door and have a relaxing walk.
~AT THE CAFE~
You both walk in the door and smell the fresh coffee and the baked pastries. The smell was so nice even if you wouldn’t be getting any food today, only coffee. Your friend taps your shoulder and motions for you to look over at one of the tables. It’s your old coworkers! At first you want to shrink into yourself and leave, but then you remember that you hit your goal weight and have no reason to be so insecure about what they might say.
The both of you get your coffee and, as you’re about to walk back to the apartment, you hear a familiar voice behind you. “Hey! Y/n.” Slowly turning around, you make eye contact. This time though, it’s different. You keep your head high instead of looking at the ground right away, and you don’t back down. “Yes? Can I help you?” “Well, we saw you and wanted to say that you look good. Sorry that we were so horrible back then, can we be friends?” “Hmmm, I don’t think so. There’s a lot of things you said and now you only want to be friends with me because of how I look. I don’t want fake friends like you guys, sorry.” You walk out and head back to the apartment with your friend, both of you laughing at how the encounter had gone.
Everything seems so much better, and you feel so much more confident now that you lost weight. There’s nothing stopping you from being yourself anymore. You feel...cute. And it’s a term you’re no longer afraid to associate with yourself.
#thinspo#thiinspo#thinsp0#thinsppi#tinsp#anaimagine#ana imagine#not pro just using tags#thinspro#eating disorder imagine#ugw imagine#gw imagine
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Fic Questionnaire
@ford-ye-fiji tagged me to do this; thank you. ^_^
How many works do you have on AO3? 106
What's your total AO3 word count? 395,897
How many fandoms have you written for and what are they? 27 fandoms, though for most of them it’s only like one or two. They are Akatsuki no Yona, Bungou Stray Dogs, My Hero Academia, Hunter x Hunter, Tales of Zestiria, Tales of Berseria, Tales of Graces, Tales of the Abyss, Tales of Xillia, Tales of Hearts, Tales of the Rays, Professor Layton, Noragami, Pandora Hearts, Dai Gyakuten Saiban, A Series of Unfortunate Events, RWBY, Tangled the series, Doki Doki Literature Club, Ori and the Blind Forest, Vanitas no Carte, Genshin Impact, Kiznaiver, Boku dake ga Inai Machi, Kuroshitsuji, Ai the Somnium Files, and Charlotte.
What are your top 5 fics by kudos? “Pictures, Posters, and Tender Beauty”, “Plus Est En Vous”, “My Reason”, “I Am Here, Too”, and “A Bandage for my Scars, and your Heart” ...Not surprised that four out of five of those are MHA fics, but I will never understand how that Tangled the series one I did got so insanely popular..... maybe because the show director himself acknowledged it. 0_0
Do you respond to comments, why or why not? I try to, though I have to shamefully admit I pick and choose which ones I respond to. I appreciate every comment I get, of course, every writer does, but idk, I just feel like a broken record responding to all similar shorter comments with “Thank you so much!!! I’m so happy you liked it <3″ or something like that... Is that cruel of me? >_> I also feel weird responding to comments on my super old stuff, because aside from a few exceptions, I don’t really like most of my old fics anymore alkgklflkkl and I barely remember them enough to be able to give a reasonable response to comments on those. Instead I just put all my energy into responding to longer, more detailed comments, because with those I actually have more to work with to say back... But again, I love all my comments!! I’m really sorry if I don’t respond to your comment, it doesn’t mean I’m not grateful, I just don’t know what to say back OTL
What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending? Haaaah, there are a few, but proooobably the most angsty ending would be in “Smile, and maybe tomorrow, you’ll see the sun.” Since the thing is basically 12k words of agonizingly drawn-out All Might death... :’) Though I meant for the actual ending to be somewhat hopeful/bittersweet? and I surely have other ones that have more painful endings... But that’s the obvious one that comes to mind, since I’ve had multiple people yell at me for it. :)
Have you ever received hate on a fic? I can’t remember any instances of outright hate, but I’ve gotten some... odd comments every once in a while... Or just some annoying criticism that the person didn’t intend to be mean about, I don’t think, but that realllly wasn’t warranted. These comments are very rare though.
Do you write smut? If so what kind? Noooo way in hell lol
Have you ever had a fic stolen? ....I mean, not that I know of!
Have you ever had a fic translated? Yeah, I think I had at least one someone asked to translate into Russian, although they put it on FF.net lol
Have you ever co-written a fic before? No... I really want to though. Multiple friends and I have planned different ones, but we haven’t gotten around to doing any of them yet because I’m into different fandoms atm and also dealing with health problems that distract me.... My ex-friend and I had a major one that was in the planning stages, but then she stopped being my friend so it never got off the ground. :’) I’m still upset about that...
What's your all time favorite ship? Mmmmm that’s hard; I don’t ship that much at all, so although I have a few favorite ships, one in particular doesn’t really stand out to me as my hardcore OTP.... Buuut I guess I would say Snow/Serah from FFXIII; I love ff13 so much, it’s so special to me, and those two are just the absolute sweetest and the heart and soul of the game 🥺❤️ I haven’t written anything for them or ff13 in general, but maybe someday.
What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will? I only ever have one WIP at a time, so..... Hopefully not my current long one, I am constantly trying to slap myself for thinking, intimidated as I am by it with all my ideas for it and all the research I need to do. :’)
What are your writing strengths? I think I’m really good at writing characters’ emotions... the emotions they show, and everything they’re feeling internally. I really like the stream-of-consciousness style of internal monologue I’ve started using within the last few years; I think it’s very... cathartic? In general I just think I’m good at writing softness, cause I definitely feel the soft feels rereading my stuff lol
What are your writing weaknesses? Motivation.... starting a writing session and not getting distracted.... ADHD.... what do I do. :’) Although I just said I like that stream-of-consciousness style I use, I often feel like I use it too much, or things get redundant, and too wordy and overwhelming, bah..... I’m also shit at just.... knowing things, like worldbuilding, but like, real-world stuff that everyone knows, but I’ve been living under a rock my whole life and not done a lot of things that are normal for most other people, so I struggle with that in my writing, which is why all my fics not-so-subtly eek around mentioning things like food and irl places and so much else, haaah.... now I’m got myself writing 1800s Victorian London; someone save me
What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? Ehhhh only do it veryyyy sparingly, like when a character is startled and might briefly revert to their native language, or something similar. I just did that in one of my recent fics, actually, and looked up a few Russian words, being super anal about getting it right.... and I still got a comment correcting my Russian, even though it was only like 3 words in the entire thing, with nothing else to say about the rest of the fic... it was a little frustrating :’)
What was the first fandom you ever wrote for? Akatsuki no Yona/Yona of the Dawn. That was the first series that really got me into fandom and making online friends, and gave me the courage to try writing fics; I’m so grateful to it for that, and it still remains one of my favorite mangas <3 Ah, to be able to pump out fics as easily and quickly as I did back then...
What's your favorite fic you've ever written? I think it’s still “Manufactured Hearts, Real Happiness”, the sole Tales of the Abyss fic I’ve written. TotA is my favorite game of all time, and I wrote this for a Tales big bang that happened a while back; it turned out much longer than I ever anticipated, one of my longest fics to date, and pretty much exactly how I wanted it to be, which is always the best feeling... I was so happy to feel like I did my favorite game justice. :’) Now.... my dream is for my current WIP to become my new favorite, if I can pull it off right; we’ll see :’)
Uhhhh I’ll tag @sixtyfourk , @cenally , @arcane-palm , @kyoukalay , @magicmetslogic , and @evevoli03 , if any of you want to do this~
#tag meme#i thought i had a lot of fics but that's nothing compared to you Fiji jfc#i need to get going already.......#so much dgs to write#not enough executive function.......#the amount of DGS ideas i have and the lack of skill to write or draw them is literally killing me inside </3
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Rereading your work and I got a thought: how maul and savage (and also thrawn) react to them hurting you is just for a minor injury. But what if the hurt had been much bigger, like breaking a bone or knocking you out? How would they react (or should I say how badly would they panic) then?
I like the way you think, friend
Maul
There has never, in the history of the galaxy, been such sheer panic.
The fear that takes over is unlike anything he’d ever experienced, anything he’d ever have thought it possible for him to experience.
And when the shock clears from his frozen mind, when the realization hits him that you hadn’t stood up yet, oh gods, he’s already praying.
He drops everything, his feet feeling heavy beneath him as he runs to your side, wanting to hold you and process what to do, but the fear that he may hurt you further makes him hesitate.
What if something worse happens? What if he put you in more pain than you were already in?
But you need him, you need him to be there, and he knows that. So gingerly, he lifts your head onto his lap, holding your face, calling your name as he tries to hold himself together to the best of his ability.
He feels around, checking your pulse, watching you breathe.
And though an onlooker would never know it, he’s cursing beneath his breath, asking himself, “How could I do this? How could I hurt you like this? What have I done, what have I done, what have I done?”
But this is no time for self-hatred, so he carries you to the medbay as fast as he can without jostling you. And as per usual, there are people standing by to ensure that you’ll be alright.
He refuses to leave your side until you come to.
And when you finally do, he’s there, still awake, waiting for you, and it seems like he’s on the brink of snapping.
He apologises over and over again, promising he never meant to do such a thing, that it was an accident and he would rather die a thousand times than harm you.
You try to tell him that you know, that you aren’t upset over it and you’ll be fine in no time.
But he isn’t the type to give up so easily, and over the course of the next few days, you find yourself drowning in gifts trying to make up for it. However, you’re still concerned.
He’s there, and he’s there constantly. But he isn’t... there. His mind always seems to be somewhere else, and he looks as if he’s afraid to touch you again, even in the smallest ways. Opportunities that he used to take to hold your hand or brush at your cheek, he begins letting pass by.
You initially chalk it up to him trying to let you heal, but it continues even after you’re released So you resolve to bring it up to him.
He refuses to admit it at first, his pride standing once more in the way of the truth, but you insist he not lie to you.
“This hurts me more than that wound ever could,” you say to him. And it works, his eyes widening in concern, the best course of action (finally) dawning on him.
Yes, he had been avoiding you in a way. “I lost control over my own strength,” he says, regret rising to the surface. “I couldn’t bear it if I did so again.”
So you hold tight to him, unafraid of consequences that don’t exist, and you let him know, you make him know, that it was never his fault. Because you wouldn’t be here still if it was.
Savage
He doesn’t even realize what happened at first.
Oftentimes when he spars with you, you need frequent pauses, because he’s just that strong.
But today when you were training, you stopped longer, holding your upper arm tightly at your side, flinching every time you tried moving again.
Upon noticing this, he hesitantly walks closer to you, only to find the section of your arm that you’re tentatively prodding to be growing ever-closer to a deeper, darker, more unnatural shade of your skin than it should be.
Not only that, but the area already swells up, the area much larger than the same spot on your other arm, a trait not often found in small bruises.
He isn’t sure what exactly to do in the moment, and he has a difficult time keeping himself from touching it, as if he could somehow fix the wound by poking at it.
But he does eventually walk you to the medbay, profusely apologizing with every step he takes, holding your shoulder in an attempt to stabilize your movements and not harm your bones anymore than they already are.
He can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief when he finds out it’s only a small fracture, but the realization that sparring with you may be too dangerous weighs on him like a block of iron.
The thing is that he enjoys practising with you. Having the opportunity to help with your combat skills and spending all that time with you was something he didn’t know he cared so much about until this moment.
Still, he prioritizes your safety over these things, and as much as it saddens him to give that up, he convinces himself that it’s the best option.
So when you’ve assured him that the pain has subsided and you’ll be healed in only a few weeks, he finally tells you what he’s decided.
Needless to say, you aren’t too happy.
You argue, insisting that whatever led him to the idea that you weren’t safe was absolutely ridiculous. People get hurt during practise all the time. It’s simply a lesson in what not to do next time.
He hates arguing with you, even if he thinks it’s for the best. But in reality, he let’s you make most decisions, and even for this instance, he won’t contest you if you refuse to sit out on training from here on. You simply won’t have it.
And of course, it takes him some time to accept that. When you feel completely better and return to the training grounds, you notice him going even lighter on you than usual.
So in protest, you try to fight him harder, increasing your intensity with every blow you make.
And you’re back to normal in no time.
Thrawn
He is no stranger to bad wounds.
So when he sees you doubled over after a kick that landed on your chest harder than it was meant to, he identifies what that means almost immediately.
He calls for medics. Now.
And he stays beside you, holding your back and one of your shoulders to keep you upright. He tries to keep his composure one of support and care, but he finds it more than difficult to hide his disdain that help hadn’t arrived within a few seconds.
He’s reassuring you softly, making sure you don’t move too much, telling you that it’ll be alright and not to worry.
And he continues doing so, even after the medics begin checking you, through discreet scowls at the inefficiency of their arrival and mumbling about the expectation during emergencies.
When you’re in the medbay, half groaning from the soreness of your chest, he holds your hand in between his, admitting that he was careless, that he was making baseless assumptions about your reactions. Of course you would move to protect your head first and foremost. Why hadn’t he seen that?
And he’s unsurprisingly calm, as always, but that doesn’t mean he was relaxed. In fact, quite the opposite. Beneath the cool, rational reactions and the critical exterior lay an unceasing worry that you had learned to find and identify.
It isn’t much, but you squeeze his hand just a little tighter in response, and for a split second, you think you see that fear present itself in his expression.
When you both learn that he had fractured two of your ribs, you think you see the expression again, and this time, he’s the one that tightens the grip on your hand.
No one’s allowed to bother you, to try and pawn off work to you that they don’t feel like doing. Without your express permission, no one’s even allowed into the medbay. Thrawn’s had it, and he’s made it clear.
He blows off a good bit of work to see you for days at a time, only bringing with him things that are extremely high priority. Other than that, though, he pays the ultimate amount of attention to you.
And once you’ve healed, that doesn’t really change. Not for a while, at least.
He doesn’t mention training again, unless you bring it up, and even then he’s hesitant to discuss it. He doesn’t like leaving you alone simply so that he can train, but he also still feels as if you’re too delicate to combat for now.
He eventually does allow it again, but only after months of denying it, if only to make absolutely certain that you won’t fall apart upon contact.
#darth maul#darth maul x reader#darth maul x you#maul#maul x reader#savage opress x reader#savage x reader#savage opress#savage opress x you#grand admiral thrawn#thrawn#grand admiral thrawn x reader#thrawn x reader#star wars x reader#star wars x you
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um, hello (^ ^*)/ I'm not really sure if you'll read this, but it's totally fine if you won't!! (no pressure) I'd just like to say I'm really grateful for you and your stories. They are probably something I see as a safe space, they're so inspiring and comforting!! it's really cool how you have the courage and passion to create your art and stories, along with sharing them to the rest of the world. that takes a lot of guts.
i guess i still lack the confidence and faith in my writing skills, since i can't help but doubt a lot about whether or not my stories are worthy and good enough. but anyways, I just wanted to say thank you (again) for being you and for the content you post, they never fail to bring me serotonin or hope that I'd finally feel comfortable enough in sharing my own stories as well. please take care and stay safe out there!! <33 (so sorry though if I rambled a lot, i was feeling a bit down haha)
I’m constantly second guessing my own writing, especially when they’re new fanfics or if it’s like an extra fluffy chapter, so I know how that feels. 😅
It often gets to the point where I reread and re-edit so much that I can’t even tell if I like the chapter anymore, but don’t have the heart to redo it again because I can’t figure out how to reword anything anymore. It’s even worse when it gets into the plot twists as I have a habit of writing very twisty stories because ✨drama✨ and I’m anxious over whether or not it’ll be received well. I also write in the first person PoV which a lot of people hate, but I’m just most comfortable with as it lets me get emotions across easier. As a result, I’m terrified every time I post a new chapter or fic 🤣😭
But I love writing and I love drawing, and I really like to share things and finding out whether or not other people will like them too, so I make myself post everything. What really matters most though in any art or story form is whether YOU, the creator, enjoy what is you’re making. As such? Any ideas of stories or art you want to do ARE worthy and good enough, and no one but yourself can tell you otherwise. Constructive criticism is one thing, hate comments are another. It’s vitally important to learn the difference. (Sometimes I still have trouble, buuuut I’m still learning, lol.)
Oh! And another thing that I promise is relevant even though it might not sound so at first. 🤣
I’m still haunted by the cringe of a Yu-Gi-Oh fic I wrote back when I was, like, twelve, which was the first big fanfic I’ve ever written that really got me into the “isekai” trope because… reasons, but if I didn’t write it back then I never would have gotten to the point where I am now. As a result, while I did delete the (cough) sequels (cough) to it, I still have the original cringe posted on fanfic net somewhere (it was adopted by someone else so it’s not on my profile anymore but like it’s still there) and on my deviantart (yikes) to serve as a reminder of my fanfic origins.
We all have to start somewhere, and that was the starting line for me. 💕
Twelve year old me had an absolutely blast writing that fic all those years ago, and even if I don’t necessarily like the cringe that it is now, if it wasn’t for that troubled kid that wanted to escape into a world of Duel Monsters to get away from reality then we wouldn’t have any of the fanfics I’m writing today. Which would mean no Once Upon a Dream/Tragedy or Desperate Decisions. So! Ahem.
Just know that you have my support and that I believe in you! It might be a little tough or tricky at times, but, whether it be writing or drawing, art will take form if you give it shape. You got this!
I’m also really happy you find my blog/stories/art as a safe space/comfort. 🥰 Drawing and writing has been my comfort for as long as I can remember, so it’s always really nice to hear others enjoy it/take comfort from the things I post!
I hope you feel better, Anon, and stay safe too! 💕✨💕 Thank you!
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Every Time Annabeth is Mean to Percy in the Riordanverse
This is something that I’ve been considering writing for a while but didn’t particularly want to put the work into until I was rereading The Titan’s Curse and came across a very specific line that went “She punched me in the gut.” I was so consumed with rage that I immediately began to reread the whole series and marked down every single instance that Annabeth was a dick to Percy.
One thing to note is that I’ve marked down every instance of Annabeth calling Percy “seaweed brain” as being mean. Friendly reminder that her nickname for Percy means “stupid” and has always meant stupid and will always mean stupid and that just because he’s used to it by now, doesn’t make it okay.
On that note, this also turned into me writing down every time someone other than Annabeth insults Percy’s intelligence just because I was curious.
Without further ado, I present to you, The Lightning Thief.
(Alternating colors for easier reading)
TLT (pg 57) - [interrogation of Percy] The girl with curly blond hair hovered over me, smirking as she scraped drips off my chin with the spoon. [ … ] Somebody knocked on the door, and the girl quickly filled my mouth with pudding.
TLT (pg 64) - [describing Annabeth’s eyes] but intimidating, too, as if she were analyzing the best way to take me down in a fight.
TLT (pg 64) - “You drool when you sleep.”
TLT (pg 83) - When we reached her, she looked me over critically, like she was still thinking about how much I drooled.
TLT (pg 85) - She saw me looking, and her expression hardened again.
TLT (pg 85-86) - She grabbed my wrist and dragged me outside. I could hear the kids of cabin eleven laughing behind me. When we were a few feet away, Annabeth said, “Jackson, you have to do better than that.” [ … ] She rolled her eyes and mumbled under her breath, “I can’t believe I thought you were the one.”
TLT (pg 86) - [Percy is annoyed] “Don’t talk like that!” Annabeth told me. “You know how many kids at this camp wish they’d had your chance?”
TLT (pg 89) - [Clarisse is hazing Percy] Annabeth looked pained, but she did stay out of it.
TLT (pg 90) - [Clarisse is hazing Percy] Annabeth stood in the corner, watching through her fingers.
TLT (pg 92) - Annabeth stared at me. I couldn’t tell whether she was just grossed out or angry at me for dousing her.
TLT (pg 93) - “I’ve got training to do,” Annabeth said flatly. “Dinner’s at seven-thirty. Just follow your cabin to the mess hall.” [Percy apologizes] “Whatever.”
TLT (pg 123) - [Annabeth sets Percy up to be bait for Clarisse, Percy confronts her] Annabeth shrugged. “I told you. Athena always, always has a plan.”
TLT (pg 128) - Annabeth still taught me Greek in the mornings, but she seemed distracted. Every time I said something, she scowled at me, as if I’d just poked her between the eyes.
TLT (pg 147) - [Annabeth has volunteered for the quest] “I’ve been waiting a long time for a quest, seaweed brain,” she said. “Athena is no fan of Poseidon, but if you’re going to save the world, I’m the best person to keep you from messing up.”
TLT (pg 157) - [Percy is being optimistic] She gave me an irritated look. “It’s bad luck to talk that way, seaweed brain.” [Percy asks why Annabeth hates him] “I don’t hate you. [Percy disagrees] “Look...we’re just not supposed to get along, okay? Our parents are rivals.”
TLT (pg 169) - She was silent for a few more steps. “It’s just that if you died...aside from the fact that it would really suck for you, it would mean the quest was over. This may be my only chance to see the real world.”
TLT (pg 173) - [Percy lies to Medusa] “Your head is full of kelp.”
TLT (pg 185) - [Percy doesn’t know the myths] Annabeth flashed me an irritated look. [explanation of the myth] Annabeth straightened. In a bad imitation of my voice she said: “It’s just a photo, Annabeth. What’s the harm?”
TLT (pg 194) - [Annabeth wakes Percy after a nightmare] “Well,” Annabeth said, “the zombie lives.”
TLT (pg 217) - [After Percy jumps off the Gateway Arch] Annabeth stood beside him, trying to look angry, but even she seemed relieved to see me. “We can’t leave you alone for five minutes! What happened?”
TLT (pg 234) - [Percy asking Annabeth to go with him to get Ares’ shield] “Are you kidding?” She looked at me as if I’d just dropped from the moon. [ … ] “Me, go with you to the...the ‘Thrill Ride of Love’? How embarrassing is that? What if somebody saw me?”
TLT (pg 234) - [Percy picks up Aphrodite’s scarf] Annabeth ripped it out of my hand and stuffed it in her pocket. “Oh no you don’t. Stay away from that love magic.” [ … ] “Just get the shield, seaweed brain.”
TLT (pg 239) - [Percy has a plan] “Are you crazy?”
TLT (pg 244) - [Percy backtalking Ares] Annabeth said, “That was not smart, Percy.”
TLT (pg 251) - [Discussing what side they’ll pick] “Because you’re my friend, seaweed brain. Anymore stupid questions?”
TLT (pg 257) - [Grover can only bless wild animals] “So it would only work on Percy,” Annabeth reasoned.
TLT (pg 263) - [Percy trying to get Annabeth’s attention at the Lotus Hotel] She looked up, annoyed. “What?” [ … ] “Hey!” She screamed and hit me, but nobody else even bothered looking at us.
TLT (pg 282) - [Percy saves Grover and Annabeth from Crusty] “Be faster next time.”
TLT (pg 370) - [Percy wakes up after almost dying] “You idiot,” Annabeth said.
TLT (pg 374) - She pursed her lips. “You won’t try anything stupid during the school year, will you? At least...not without sending me an Iris-Message?”
TLT (pg 374) “Take care, seaweed brain.”
TLT total number of times Percy is called stupid: 10
TLT number of times Annabeth calls Percy stupid: 7
TLT number of times others call Percy stupid: Gabe (1). Grover (1). Thalia (1).
Every day, I’ll reblog this post with the next book so keep an eye out for that.
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100 Days of Writing: Day Sixty-Three
I decided to catch up on The 100 Days of Writing and then I... accidentally wrote a large number of words. In my defense, this is like 2 weeks’ worth of questions. Also I skipped the ones I didn’t have anything to say about so actually this could be worse.
(I’m not even kidding, this is really long. I talk about writing rituals, tools for plotting, my thoughts on opening with dialogue and why I don’t like it, my favorite topics, the weather, and what length of fic I like to write.)
I’m tagging, and apologizing to, @the-wip-project and fellow participants @she-who-the-river-could-not-hold, @thelittlefanpire, @hopskipaway, @easilydistractedbyfanfic, @dylanobrienisbatman, and @fontainebleau22.
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Day 49: How do you get yourself in the mood to write? Do you have a ritual?
Every time I tell myself I’m going to get back into doing these questions, I see this one in my bookmarks and go nope! and turn around. It’s not a hard question; I’ve just been having trouble consistently getting into the mood to write, so I feel like any answer I try to give to it will be, in some sense, a lie. Like do I ever get “in the mood” to write? Really?? Also, I feel like I’m relying too much on ‘ritual,’ building up ‘the perfect writing situation’ in my head, which at the end of the day is less important than just saying ‘I’m going to do this now’ and then doing it.
I do have some things I always do when I sit down to a writing session. I write on my couch. Almost always (unless I’m on an event deadline where I just have to write in bits and pieces whenever possible), I write in sprints—I use write or die to keep me actually typing and not staring into space. I write in order, and I often write a whole scene at a time. So before I start I need to have at least a couple solid opening sentences in mind, plus some kind of idea about what happens/needs to happen in the scene. In order to get in the right headspace, I usually spend some time just thinking before I actually get to writing. I reread my outline or notes, and skim whatever I might have already written on the project. Sometimes I look at images that help me get in the right mood. Sometimes I just imagine or daydream for a bit. The difficulty, especially recently, is in making sure I do this just enough and not too much, because then I get too caught up in my head and I can no longer translate what I’m seeing into words.
In a broader sense, I also have a building up to writing ritual—again, I think this is part of my problem, that I don’t know how to balance this build up with actual writing. In the hours/days before writing something, I turn it over in my head a lot. I practice different versions of those critical opening sentences. I play it out like a fantasy just to see if there’s a possible flow, even if the final version is different. Basically, I try to turn it into something that just needs to be written, that just needs to get out. But again—this can lead to overthinking and frustration.
The best way I can describe writing for me is that, when it goes well, I find a rhythm, or enter into a zone, where I can describe the images in my head in a way that’s both accurate and pleasant to read. But entering that zone or finding that rhythm is like jumping into a game of jump rope. If you don’t do it right, you’re just going to trip over your feet and get tangled in the rope. But if you do it correctly, it’s fun and exhilarating and you can keep jumping for a long time. Sometimes it takes me some false starts to jump in. And recently I’ve been having days where I just can’t at all, where I tangle the rope up so much I can’t unknot it. Those are the days I just have the same sentences repeating over and over in my head, sounding wrong, and I can’t do anything about it. On the other hand, I write in much longer sprints than I did a couple years ago. I used to only write partial scenes, maybe a few hundred words. Now I can write whole scenes without stopping, and on a few occasions, I’ve written multiple scenes or even whole stories without stopping. So in other words, when it works, it really works. But it doesn’t always, and there’s not a lot of in between.
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Day 50 What fic/story made you?
Um… honestly I’ve been writing, in general and fic specifically, for such a long time that I didn’t have a ‘maybe I can do this’ moment. I mean one problem I’ve never had is thinking I can’t do this. I had positive reinforcement for my school and academic writing, and for a long time my fictional stories were just for me, and I knew what I liked. Even just thinking about my fic writing… I’ve been posting fic online since 2006, and I’ve been in multiple fandoms. I don’t really have much connection to a lot of those early stories anymore. They feel like they were written by someone else, a little. I’ve also moved on from most of the fandoms I wrote for in my early fic days so I don’t feel like I can really judge them anymore.
That said… there is kinda an obvious answer for my Star Trek fic lol. I also have favorite stories, and stories that stick out even years after I wrote them, in all (or at least most) of the fandoms I’ve been in. But I’m not sure if that’s the same.
Also, I had two teachers who were really encouraging of me and who I still think about often. One was my seventh grade English teacher, who had us do a lot of writing exercises of various types, both large and small, including keeping writing journals we wrote in every day at the start of class. He once told my mom that I wrote well, not for a seventh grader, but in general, and to be honest I still think of that with some regularity and take a lot of pride and comfort in it. The other was my creative writing professor in college. I don’t think I did my best work for that class, but she was very encouraging and seemed to like what I did. At the end of the semester, as I was preparing my portfolio, she told me that if I didn’t want to do much editing, I didn’t have to, because my unedited work would stand on its own. Again, especially considering all the problems that I saw with my writing for that class even then, I really took that comment to heart. When I’m feeling very self-critical, I remind myself that even my raw scribblings have, perhaps, something to them, and it helps ease the excessive and unwarranted pressure I put on myself. These aren’t really stories about specific writing pieces that ‘made’ me but I do think they speak to that ‘maybe I can do this’ feeling.
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Day 51: Do you use tools for plotting and what are they?
So, generally, no. Sometimes I’ll look at various writing/plotting/organizational tools as a method of distraction, but my actual process is very simple. I use plain old notebooks and pens, and word documents on my computer, to plan all my fics, from the one-shots to the multi-chapters. I start by writing down general thoughts and brainstorming, then I build a scene list and/or outline, and then, if necessary, I separate the scenes lists into chapters. Sometimes I break down the scenes even more, if I have additional ideas I don’t wan to forget or if I know I need to hit certain points in a specific scene. The process varies a little bit from project to project, but that’s basically all I do.
I did use Evernote to plan the (still unwritten….) Ark AU. I don’t know if that was the best program choice or if something else exists that would have more precisely met my needs. But that’s what I used and that’s how it is. It’s a little annoying that every time I open it, it’s been updated, and the interface looks totally different and I have to relearn where everything is. But the tagging system has worked decently to allow me to see the big picture of this complex, multi-strand, multi-character, multi-ship disaster epic of a story. I struggled to plot it for a long time because I didn’t know how to balance all of the different parts. In Evernote, I made one ‘note’ for each character, and one for each scene (in addition to miscellaneous notes about sub plots, relationships, questions, etc.). Then I tagged each of them, including tagging the scenes by chapter. So now I can look at a list of all the characters, or all the scenes, or all of the scenes in chapter 8, or whatever, but I can also look at just one particular note at a time, and not be distracted by anything else. That said, I do also have one note that is just a total scene list for the whole fic, which is pretty reminiscent of my usual outlining process.
So… somehow this helped me plot (tentatively) the whole thing, but as I’ve written almost none of it—I finished outlining this in February 2020 so in my defense… I think you can see why it stalled—I’m not yet sure if it was a successful experiment in a ‘plotting tool.’
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Day 60: How do you start your chapters? Do you start with dialogue? Why or why not?
While I am definitely against prescriptive “writing rues” generally, as my own personal rule, I try not to start with dialogue unless I have a very good reason.
To be quite honest, I think it’s lazy. I do think that dialogue openings can be used well, if the writer acknowledges that they are intensely stylistic and, from a reader’s perspective, quite difficult. Even within fanfiction, where a line of dialogue (especially if accompanied by a dialogue tag or swiftly followed by a reference to the speaker) gives a lot more information to the reader than in original fiction, opening with dialogue still shoves the reader directly into the deep end of the scene, with very little to orient her. WHERE is the speaker? WHO is being addressed in the dialogue? WHAT is the context of the conversation? Who ELSE might be present in the scene?
There are reasons you might want to throw the reader in the aforementioned deep-end. Maybe it’s an in media res situation and you want to emphasize the overwhelming nature of the action—starting a scene with “Get down!” for example. Or maybe the overall mood is one of disorientation or floating or uncertainty, and you want to create the same effect in the reader.
But I think if you’re starting a scene with dialogue because that’s the first thing that comes to mind for you—the person who conveniently already has the setting, character list, and even future plot already in mind—and it’s just simplest and easiest to start that way, you’re doing a disservice to the reader.
For example, I actually am planning to start the next chapter of the Sleeping Beauty AU with dialogue. My POV character is in a room with multiple other characters, and she’s examining something meaningful to her and not fully listening to the conversation around her. So I want the dialogue to float around in the background, to feel unmoored, and to stand in contrast to the very precise, detailed thoughts and memories that she’s experiencing, which are grounded in physical sensations like touch.
I haven’t quite gotten it to work yet, though, in part because opening with dialogue and doing it well is, in my opinion, quite hard. The difficulty lies in alleviating the challenges the reader is experiencing and making the text fluid and easy to picture. You need to get all of that scene-setting information—the who, what, when, where, and why—in very quickly, but without being jarring. In this scene in particular, I have multiple characters, all in a comparatively unusual location, and I need to establish where they are, who exactly is there, how they’ve come to meet my POV character (which happens ‘off screen’ between the end of Ch5 and the beginning of Ch6), all on top of the character’s thoughts and feelings.
I know all of this very well. To picture the scene in my own head takes only a moment. I just think about it and I see all seven of the characters, where they’re sitting, how they’re positioned, what their facial expressions are, and I also know roughly what each of them is thinking and feeling. To describe all of this in words would take several sentences. Do I put all those sentences on the front end? Do I weave them in among other description and dialogue? Is all of it even necessary—maybe we don’t need to know who’s sitting in what order on the couch, for example.
I’ve gone over a couple of different ways to do this in my head, and I’m sure it is possible, but I’m struggling to get it all down in a coherent way. (Admittedly, I’ve only made one solid attempt. As I was describing above, I’m probably going to jump in with several false starts, and then it will suddenly click.)
My initial attempt to set up the scene relied heavily on dialogue, but when I read it over, what sounded snappy and interesting in my head just fell completely flat—because it lacked context and thus, any meaning. I think the gulf between how dialogue openings feel to the writer and how they feel to the reader is large. To the writer, they feel easy and natural. To the reader, they can feel forced and, contrary to the writer’s intention, serve as an additional reminder that this is a constructed narrative rather than an immersive experience—the opposite of natural. In other words, as I said, they’re a highly stylized form of writing.
To illustrate, this was my first try at the Chapter 6 intro:
"I still can't believe it," a lightly awed voice says from somewhere behind Clarke. "The Princess of Alpha Station really used to live in our quarters.”
She pictures Miller, sunk into the couch cushions, slowly shaking his head, the expression on his face equal parts satisfied and amused.
"Really? That's what you think is the oddest part of all this?"
"Yeah, Bry, I do. Would you prefer I gloat? About being right this whole time? Who says she's just a legend now?"
My current idea is to still start with dialogue, but to move back into a significant amount of description pretty immediately afterward, and only then add more dialogue. Even this is a little hazy, since I haven’t thought much about this fic in a while. But I do think it’s quite clear this won’t work.
As for how I DO start chapters/scenes/stories… I like to start with a strong image that sets the scene and mood of the story, and hopefully leaves the reader wanting to know more. Here are some examples of story openings I’ve written recently, which I like a lot:
When Bellamy is angered, deafening bouts of thunder shake the heavens.
The cawing of the crows—high, sharp, angry shots of sound. The buzzing of the telephone wires.
Marcus Kane's body shows up again in June, skeletal and rotting, six months after his disappearance at the turn of the year.
The sky has turned a bruised yellow, like the inside of a plum, by the time Bellamy starts seeing the robots in the fields.
At noon on the third-to-last day before Christmas, Murphy leaves the cafe, with a single peppermint mocha and a small paper bag, and heads right, walking parallel to the ocean.
The last one doesn’t seem as interesting but consider: you get the who, what, when, and where, the mystery of the paper bag and where he might be going, and also the immediate understanding that this is probably going to be a Fluffy Beach Christmas story—which is correct, that’s exactly what it is.
I’m not saying that I’m always creative or unique. I often start stories off with descriptions of the weather. And I have committed the ~~cardinal sin~~ of starting with a character waking up, heaven forbid. I don’t have any hard and fast rules for myself other than that I try to avoid dialogue, or at least, be careful about its use (another example: I use dialogue to start off Mad Women—but it reads like narration, until it’s rudely interrupted, a sort of in-joke/reference/twist). I try to match the mood of the story and, as I said, include something that will create a question for the reader, some version of why, that the rest of the story will answer.
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Day 61: Do you describe the weather? Try changing a scene you wrote by adding weather effects.
After writing a book for the last question, here’s an easy one! Yes, I describe the weather. A lot. Often. In detail.
(Though if we’re talking about the Sleeping Beauty AU as my “current wip,” I actually don’t do much weather describing there, because 4 of the 6 chapters take place in a location with no weather.)
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Day 62: What is your favorite thing to write about?
Honestly I like to write about people being dramatic about their emotions. That’s what I’ve discovered while writing my surprisingly self-indulgent Troped fic: I want to describe people acting as if Everything was the Most Ever. It’s fun. Part of this is getting into the usual romantic tropes—longing, pining, exaggerated touches and glances and the like—but why stop at romance when you also have stuff like The Weather and Random Feelings to contemplate?
I also like setting scenes that I find soothing, which is part of why I like Seasonal Stories.
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Day 63: Are you more of a drabble/flash or a longfic/novel kind of writer?
I’m in the middle. I mostly write one-shots, and I’ve noticed that a lot of them fall in the 4-6k range. Long one-shots can get all the way to 10-12k but I feel like most of those are, semi-objectively speaking, too long, and would probably have been stronger if they were pruned down to 6k, or, better yet, never made it past 6k in the first place.
I have written some multi-chapters, or, uh, started multi-chapters, but I’m VERY bad at it. The only thing that makes me slightly less bad is being stubborn. Hence the existence of a WIP that I’ve had going for over 10 years now and refuse to call abandoned. Hence this year’s extended angst about the Sleeping Beauty AU, which is only 6 chapters but has taken me literally years to write. I don’t honestly know if I’ve ever finished a multi-chapter WIP, like, properly speaking. I’ve done some short multi-chapters that I wrote as if they were one-shots and then split up for ease of reading or, I dunno, just because. I wrote a Big Bang once, but it’s not very good. Nor very long, if I remember correctly. Generally speaking I probably shouldn’t be allowed to write novels lol—I have a lot of them in my ‘I should write this one day’ idea list—but as it so happens, no one can stop me, so here we are. I definitely have wild fantasies of writing multi-chapters with ease but I’m just a very slow writer and my ideas can’t keep up with my actual-writing. Thus one shots are much easier than multi-chaps, and one-shots on a deadline are much easier than ‘I’ll finish this whenever’ one-shots. One-shots written for events or exchanges also tend to be shorter (and, imo, better) because of the deadlines they’re written on, and are thus more likely to hit that sweet 4-6k spot than stories where I’m allowed to ramble at will.
All that said, I ALSO write a good number of drabbles/writing exercises. I used to write them more often than I do now, but still over the last five years I’ve produced 110,000+ words in free-standing scenes so like… that’s also a thing I guess.
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I’m sorry, it’s the “sokeefitz with kid with asd” anon, again. I just wanted to participate in Quilwyrm appreciation hours if that’s okay. You’re so kind and thoughtful. You have a way of speaking (or writing? I don’t know what the correct word is here.) that makes people feel understood when they talk to you. You always add your own thoughts to even the smallest of things, which for me at least makes me feel like you genuinely care about it. Also, you’re so creative! You have so many cool ideas and you always seem to put a lot of thought into all of them! That’s why I like coming here, at least. It’s like a quiet corner of the internet that you’ve created. Your Keeper analysis are top-tier, as well. I’m not sure if you’ve read the books a lot of times or if you just have a really good memory, but you always seem to have a great recollection of the events that occur in Keeper! And I don’t say all this in order to put pressure on you to keep being a certain way, and I’m sorry if it does. There’s just so many great things about you and the environment that surrounds you!
Oh hello! Welcome back, nonsie! Nothing to apologize for <33. And thank you for your patience as I got to this--I've reread it so many times since you sent it but I haven't been able to answer until now. And ahh!! appreciation hours--you're very kind; you didn't have to do this but you're entirely welcome to, it's okay
also, can I just say that quilwyrm is absolutely adorable and it love it so much!! a combination of my name and the url that people recognize me under!! I love it!! I've actually considered getting a tattoo of a wyrm in the past, but either way they're just so cool!
"you have a way of speaking that makes people feel understood." thank you so much, that genuinely means a lot. It sometimes feels like my connection to others are artificial or not as "real" as others because I have to do a few things different to understand people and relate to them, but when people come to me I try to connect to them as much as a I can. You may have noticed me sharing stories of my own in response to yours, which is how I try to show that I'm trying to understand you. you give an experience, and I share one similar so you can see that I'm trying to remember how I felt so I can empathize with you and understand your perspective. it's never to try and make it about me, it's me trying to relate to you
and I talk about loving the details frequently, but it's true. I know sometimes I, myself, hide a lot in the small words that get overlooked, so I try to make sure to pay attention to every aspect of what someone else is saying. this is also why sometimes I'll say "if I've skipped over something you wanted to focus more on, send me another ask!" because as much as I try to pay attention, I'm not infallible and I want people to have the comfort and opportunity to come back and tell me that they wanted to focus on something else. I don't mind going back at all, and it's always fun to look at new details! and people are welcome to do this even if I don't leave that little reminder at the end. I don't know where I'm going with this, but I'm trying to say that I do genuinely care about the details, and that's why I try to cover everything I can in a single post.
about the creative thing: thank you!! I try to be! my brain is constantly filled with questions and it's nice to be able to channel them into something where others don't mind how critical (as in inquisitive, not negative) I am of things. Just last night my family was playing a card game about unicorns and I got distracted because I just started wondering how their horns work. Are they made of keratin like their hooves? Are they hollow? Is that where the magic is stored? What generates the magic? Or is it like a protrusion of their skull and it can connect directly to the cranial cavity and there's a gland in the brain that produces the magic? So I think that general principal of always asking questions helps me think through all the ideas people send me and help me just go off in several different directions and possibilities for each post. So a lot of thought does go into my posts! There's been some asks I've spent over an hour answering, typing responses and thinking it over and consulting the wiki and pulling down my books from the shelf to find specific scenes and lines. (this is also why I don't answer asks very quickly, because I'm doing all that. not that it's a bad thing! just an explanation)
I'm incredibly pleased that you like coming here. I often conceptualize my blog as just a little bubble or corner of the internet where I'm just doing whatever I feel like and others can come and join in and vibe with me for as long as they'd like. I just don't know if I'm capable of having surface-level, brief conversations. Not that it's impossible, it's just so much more natural for me to go in-depth and try and give everyone my full attention every time they interact. Which might be a little rarer on the internet, but I do try to curate a space where everyone can enjoy themselves and interact as much as they feel comfortable doing. No requirement to like posts, reblog, send asks, or anything. Just be here if you want to be!
"your keeper analyses are top-tier." ahh thank you!! I think it's so cool that everyone's started to associate me with the analyses and more technical aspects of the story, because those are my favorite parts!! it's so much fun!! I think is a combination of having read the stories several times--I've read each book at least twice, though several of the earlier one's I've lost count of (I know I've read many of them six times or more)--and interacting with others who notice details I don't for so long. Sure, when you read a book six times you get to know it pretty well, but I also see people pointing out things I've forgotten on a regular basis! That does help for when I'm answering asks or analyzing a character, but there are things I miss from time to time. I will admit I do know a lot about the story, probably as much as I know about twilight if not more (twilight is another one of those stories where I could go in depth on anything you put before me, though that interest was more accidental than keeper. to clarify, I love making fun of twilight and it's writing, not trying to justify any of it).
and don't worry! you're not pressuring me!! if anything, it's encouraging because I know you like the things I'm doing. like a little okay!! I'm doing something good!! because a lot of the times I'm just winging it (I can't say this expression without thinking of the wings au anymore), so it's always nice to get some feedback.
I've tried to be very supportive and receptive to everyone I interact with, so I'm very glad that I have a nice environment around me!! and that you think so kindly of me. you're also a wonderful person and I'm always excited when I see another ask from you (no pressure to send them in though). it's like a little there they are!! I recognize that person!! what's up with them recently, how they doing?
I hope you are doing well <33. this morning was a little stressful for me so this was really nice to see !!
#i just want people to know I appreciate them!!#and I try to understand them the best that I can#that's what all my stories are in response to yours#and me commenting on all the little details#i want to pay attention to everything I can and show that I'm trying to understand#because you're so sweet and you're worth the time and energy <33#to clarify: not saying it's a drain or anything#just saying I like spending time responding to you#and putting effort into the responses#it's not too much and it's not a burden#because I'm entirely willing and eager to do it#quil appreciation hours#can't believe I have a tag for that now#asd kid nonsie#quil's queries#long post
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2020 Fanfic Year in Review!
@floraone and @nari20 encouraged me to participate in the Year-In-Review so okay, here we go!!
1. List of fics completed this year:
Completed (as in marked-as-completed) is only two!
Advice From Her Fairy Prince (which I actually wrote in 2019!) and
Swipe Right - A Tinder Tale
I also have two ongoing short story collections that I started this year and then two multichapters that will be carried into the new year, though Teammates Don’t Kiss is fully written and R is for Reverse is more than three quarters done.
2. Number of words written:
86,680!
Not bad considering I only started in August!
(Do note that I’m only counting words that got posted, so since I work with buffer chapters this is a little less than what I’ve technically written!!)
3. Your most popular fic this year:
R is for Reverse, for sure! I’m so thrilled that the thing I’m most excited about also seems to be resonating with people.
4. Your personal favourite this year:
Definitely R! It’s such a delight to work on. There’s a reasonable chance I’ll be a bit lost when I finish it.
5. Your favourite scene:
Oh god... the more I think about this the harder it gets to pick just one!! There were so many scenes that I feel like came out really, really well.
I love pretty much every single moment of chapter 6 of R (so much UsaMamo!) but honestly I think the bit where Minako and Ami show up at Mamoru’s apartment might be my favorite? I ADORE writing Minako, she’s such a trip and honestly writes herself most of the time, and the way she and Mamoru play off of each other gives me a lot of really fun completely non-sexual tension. Plus, she’s the WORLD’S BIGGEST UsaMamo shipper and I love that.
Second favorite...I think the bit at the end of Chapter 4 of R, where Usagi and Tuxedo Mask talk after he defeats Leshy. That was totally unplanned - per my outline, Usagi was supposed to leave the tree and be gone when the battle was over - but thankfully she refused, and instead we got some really sweet bonding moments with the two of them. AND THEN HE GETS THE NERVE TO GIVE HER THE DANGOS and you can’t tell me that isn’t hella sweet.
OH and the bit in Chapter 7 of R where Mamoru totally panics over wanting to hold Usagi’s hand. I ADORE that and was so so happy with it.
6. A fic or scene that challenged you:
Pretty much ALL of the sexting scene in Tinder was HARD to write. It’s very personal to write someone masturbating, it turns out, and this was also my first major work of smut. SO there was a lot of alcohol consumed and hand-holding needed from my beta as I made my way through it.
7. A line of writing you’re proud of:
So the bit I’m currently most proud of hasn’t been posted yet (it’s from a later chapter of TDK!), so I’m gonna pick another one!
I skimmed several chapters and found quite a few bits that I’m pleased with. The bit in Chapter 7 of R where he tries to get up the nerve to hold Usagi’s hand comes to mind, but it’s pretty text-heavy so instead I’m going to specifically highlight the bit at the end of Chapter 6 of R:
The smell of her hair lingered in the hallway, her pink slippers lined up next to his black ones, and the dishes from her breakfast still sat, unwashed, on his coffee table. Hints of her presence were everywhere, and yet all he wanted, even moments after she'd left, was to see her again. The kaleidoscope inside him was back, but rather than fragmenting his emotions, this time it zeroed in on only one with crystal clarity.
Even if that rational part of him knew that this wasn't what he was supposed to do, he wasn't strong enough to fight it anymore. For the first time, he allowed himself to consciously think his dearest wish:
Maybe he could get her to fall in love with him.
Also, this one is from Advice From Her Fairy Prince, which is a Skip Beat! fanfic, but I CRACK THE HELL UP every time I reread it:
"Morizumi-san tried to throw you off a building?"
Yeah, I dunno. It’s a gloriously delayed reaction in context and I find it wonderfully absurd, so I wanted to shout that one out, too.
8. A comment that touched you:
Oh my god, I’ve received so many nice comments this year??? I go back and reread them when I’m having a tough day and just glow. I’ve had a few people tell me things like something I wrote is one of their all-time favorites or that my writing style reminds them of another author I admire and I’m basically ready to crawl under my bed like “Who, me??”
I also LIVE FOR the long, detailed comments in which people react to specifics from the story (I have several readers who do this for me and it makes me giddy every time).
One comment in particular does stick out as being far, far too kind and praised me in ways that made me feel insanely flattered and gave me a huge bout of imposter syndrome simultaneously, where they basically performed literary criticism* on one of my chapters and found all this meaning and value in my work that honestly left me a bit embarrassed in a good way.
*Note: While I personally found this extremely flattering, I wouldn’t necessarily recommend trying this at home if you haven’t received a positive response to it before, because fic is meant to be fun, and unprompted literary critique (especially unsolicited ConCrit) can make some authors feel very hurt or defensive. YMMV of course!!
9. Something that inspired your writing this year:
So @floraone ‘adopted’ me into the fandom early this year, and spending so much time with a bunch of wonderful, creative, like-minded people not only saved my mental health in this shitstorm of a year, you all also inspired me to start writing fic again, including in several genres and events I might otherwise have shyed away from.
So, I mean, that! You all! I’m so thrilled to be here and so wonderfully delighted to have found this amazing and supportive little fandom corner to play in. Thank you for inspiring me and welcoming me <3
10. Your proudest accomplishment (that one scene; finally finishing that one fic; posting your first fic; etc)
I’d say a toss-up between Tinder (writing a whole smutpiece where they are never physically in the same room together is an accomplishment, I’m just saying) and chapter 4 of R. Chapter 4 just came out so friggin’ well, and on the occasions I’ve gone back to reread it I feel very proud of it (whereas Tinder I’m more inclined to nitpick at upon reread). So, one of those!
11. Do you have any writing goals for the next year?
Oh man. I would love to finish R before my birthday (it’s in February so eh, we’ll see). And I’d love to like, not totally lose momentum and fall out of the fandom once I finish R! I honestly don’t know if I’ll ever feel quite this inspired again, so maybe finding something else that makes me want to write like this is a good goal for the year LOL. I’d also love to see if I can top my proudest bit of writing from TDK, and I think that’s a good thing to aspire to - but if I can’t, I get to put it in my wrap-up next year!
Okay! So that’s my year in review, but I would love to see some other people do these! I’m not going to tag anyone because most of the people I would tag already have been, but if you see this and want to participate, consider yourself tapped in.
Here’s to the end of 2020, and fingers crossed that the next year runs more smoothly!!
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