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goatsandgangsters · 4 years

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do you have any writing tips pls 🥺🥺

Ohhh big question! I’m flattered that you want my writing thoughts, anon!

So. Are we talking about tips on getting through writer’s block/sitting down and actually writing? The mechanics of writing itself, the individual sentences and word choices? Developing a plot? Characters or dialogue? Drafting and revising? If there’s a specific part of the process that’s angsting you, let me know, I’m happy to say more on that. For now I’ll try and touch on as much as broadly as I can.

Writing is a process, a craft, a practice. A joy and a trial. The act of hitting some keys with your fingers but also making something out of nothing. Which is to say—it comes with practice, it can be frustrating, it can be rewarding, and however you’re feeling about writing, you’re not the only one.

Inspiration/actually sitting down to write:

I find that writing is like exercise. Yes, in the sense that it takes practice to build up those muscles, but MORE IMPORTANTLY writing, like exercise, makes me groan and go “but that’s haaaaard I don’t wanna doooooo it, what if I just siiiit here insteaaaad.” And then I grudgingly get started. And I start to get into the rhythm. And then “oh goddammit. This DOES feel good.” I’ve still never experienced a runner’s high, but I have experienced “no I don’t wanna write. well I guess I’ll write. oh hey I’m writing. oH HEY!! I’M WRITING!!!” Sometimes you just need to push yourself through to start.

That said, sometimes you don’t need to push yourself to start. Sometimes it’s better to let something sit. It’s okay to pivot to another project if you’ve stalled out on one. I saw a post once that called this “crop rotation” and I think that’s true. Sometimes the challenge is getting started, but even when you can’t get started, the time away can be valuable, because it allows you to return with fresh ideas and fresh ideas.

I love using Fighter’s Block for when I can’t get started. It curbs my perfectionist tendency to write the same first sentence over and over again by forcing me to write consistently and quickly without refreshing tumblr between every sentence. Once I’ve got a paragraph, I’ve got enough of a rhythm going to keep writing on my own. You can use it for longer stretches of time, but I find a couple rounds of 200 word count goals is enough to get me through the inertia of getting started.

Read a lot:

Reading makes you a better writer. You will absorb aspects of the craft in the process—sentence structure, rhythm, plot beats.

Then think about what you read. Think about what works. Think about what doesn’t. Notice sentences that you love—not by meaning but by sound. Think about how the story is told, how the plot elements come together, how the themes operate, how the narrative is structured. Did the flashbacks works or were they superfluous? Did you love the metaphors and descriptive language, or did it feel vague and unhelpful? What parts grabbed you, what parts didn’t?

Being able to identify what does and doesn’t work in someone else’s writing will help you apply it to your own. It will also help you craft your own voice and style.

Use writing tips as a challenge, not a rule:

We’ve all seen those “writing rules” like don’t use adverbs, don’t say feels or thinks, don’t say said. Never listen to writing “rules”; instead, see them as a writing “challenge.” You don’t need to jettison every single adverb or permanently strike certain words from your writing. Sometimes, an adverb is the best word. And sometimes it isn’t.

These tips are useful, but not as hard-and-fast rules that must be obeyed every time under every circumstance. Instead, use them as tools to challenge you to think about your writing in new ways, to see if there’s a better way to say something (and maybe there is and maybe there isn’t), and to bring a freshness to the process.

I actually do really like to challenge myself to minimize feels and thinks. “He feels sick to his stomach” will pretty much always be less powerful than “His stomach lurches.” But sometimes feels and thinks work better, either because I need quick exposition or because it specifically emphasizes a thought or a feeling as perception. Again, it’s not about rules. It’s about challenging your habits to breathe new life into your writing.

Revising tools:

if you’re a tactile person and you own a printer (which I am but I don’t), I like to print out a draft and sit on the floor with a pen and a highlighter and highlight anything that sounds clunky or that doesn’t quite fit. Then I massage those specific sentences, looking for other ways to say them, and narrow in on those parts rather than trying to edit everything overall.

The hemingway app method (as long as you know you’re allowed to disagree with it) can be good to catch certain things. Sometimes I use it and think “yeah that sentences IS too long and awkward, I should rephrase it” and sometimes I think “nah, that sentence is long but it’s controlled and it works.” Sometimes it’s useful in pointing out that I used the word just way too many times; sometimes I’ll keep my adverbs thanks.

Retyping the entire thing in another word document is another revising trick. So is reading the entire think out loud to yourself (your actual ear will catch awkward rhythms or typos that your inner voice glossed over).

(Note: I don’t do all of these all the time. I revise with whichever method I happen to be feeling at the moment)

Character interactions:

Overly expository character interactions are probably my #1 writing pet peeve. People don’t say what they mean. They don’t calmly and carefully and eloquently articulate exactly what they feel. If your characters are conversing in well-practiced monologues where they’re able to objectively analyze and express their exact feelings, it’s not believable. It’s also not fun for the reader, because Explanations of Emotions are being used as a stand-in for actual emotions.

Example: You don’t have a breakdown because you’re stressed about losing your job and you had a fight with your sister and you’re also the protagonist who has to save the entire world. You have a breakdown because you can’t find your fucking pen. It was here a moment ago, you know it was, you put it THERE because that’s where you PUT things but now it’s gone and the pen is gone and you can’t even find the fucking pen so how are you going to save the world and everything is going to SHIT because you can’t FIND your goddamn pEN.

Your character is probably not even an expert on their own feelings, let alone able to objectively explain them to someone else. There are things we can’t make ourselves say out loud. We deflect. We put all the big feelings into small things. We squeeze someone’s hand and say come on, let’s make dinner because you can’t say everything is going to be okay I promise you and I love you so much and one day you’ll see that it’ll all work out.

What are your characters saying with their body? What are they saying with what’s left unsaid? And when are they saying something Else that’s really about Them? (“You did what you had to do,” character A assures character B, because character A’s own guilt weighs on them. They’ll never say this out loud. They don’t even need to specifically think “just like my own guilt, which weighs on me.” We know it by what they say, about other people and about other things, because these are the times when you’re really talking about yourself)

Also, the size of the emotion displayed does not translate into the size of the emotional impact on the reader. A big sweeping declaration of I love you shouldn’t be used as a stand-in for real chemistry or a moment of love that is specific to those characters. An absolute sobbing breakdown isn’t inherently more tragic for its size. You don’t need torture porn to evoke angst. Emotions are a lot more subtle than that. Using a caricature of emotion in the extreme often cheapens the emotion for the reader, rather than enhancing it.

Other assorted tips:

Write notes! Sit up at 3 AM and write down a snippet of dialogue in a note on your phone! Jot down the plot idea for later! Note the phrase you heard someone say that sounds like it would be a good title.

If you can’t figure out how to end your story or your section or your chapter, it might be because it’s already over and the story has finished telling itself. If the beginning doesn’t feel right, if it feels slow and clunky, it might be because your starting place is too early. If the character interaction feels wrong or the scene isn’t going right or you can’t make that line of dialogue work, the problem is probably about 5 or 10 lines up where you took a wrong turn.

An em dash—like the one I used here—separates out a part of the sentence that couldn’t be a sentence on its own. Semicolons join two independent sentences together; this is an example.

The dialogue tag is part of the sentence. Correct: “I love dogs,” he said. or “I love dogs.” Incorrect: “I love dogs.” he said. or “I love dogs,” He said.

That’s everything that comes to mind immediately. If there’s another part of the process that you want me to focus on, let me know! I’m happy to go more in-depth on specifics!

#writing #me??? you want tips from MMmee???#a n o n 💖#writeblr #anon tag

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hollyjollybaby · 4 years

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I have no idea if I’m handling this supreme separation anxiety phase right, or if I’m just making things worse. We’re going into the second week of her SCREAMING the instant I put her down and she does. Not. Stop. Will follow me around bawling her eyes out and the only thing that makes her stop is me picking her up again. She doesn’t do it for her dad. She doesn’t get distracted and stop. She just follows me around, trying to climb up my leg, sobbing hysterically until I pick her up. This is the first time she’s really been like this or at least where it was this severe. I have no idea how to handle it. I just sat on the couch holding her for legit an hour and a half because I was afraid to move and then I finally really wanted coffee so I got up and it was immediate crying. I don’t know what to doooooo

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luna-almighty-god · 4 years

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Guardian Angel N°2 [... there's only one that I want....]

Hello everyone! This is the second chapter of Guardian Angel! I'm pretty bad in English, so I helped myself from DeepL for the translation. Feel free to let me know if there are any mistakes!

This story is obviously not canonical, please do not refer to it if you are looking for canonical information.

Dreamtale belongs to @jokublog , Error belongs to @loverofpiggies , Ink belongs to @myebi and Killer belongs to @rahafwabas ! Enjoy your reading!

Previous Chapter

===

The first days, Ink had great difficulty to apply Nyx's advice. The habit was that he would unconsciously seek out the destroyer's magic in order to locate him and join him, but he struggled with all his strength to stay in his place and not to crack. But damn it, to feel the powerful magic of his opposite, to feel it move and throb, was a terribly desirable torture. It was as if the Destroyer was taunting him, using his powers on purpose to attract the painter, and this only made the task more difficult.

Ink would then go to Dream or Blue's house to take his mind off things, to chat, to cook, to share light and funny moments. It worked for an hour or two, but soon Ink's mind was caught up in the desire, the desire to see his soul mate, to start their characteristic fights and maybe end up embracing each other tenderly.

But in those moments Ink would shake his head and take a deep breath. As Nyx had said, not by being stubborn with his misplaced attitude was he going to get anywhere! He had to show the Destroyer that he was independent and in control of his emotions!

Then after a week without seeing his opposite - a terribly long time for the painter - Ink finally found himself face to face with him: Error had attacked an AU and was about to destroy it, but had ceased his activity as soon as the Creator arrived. They had looked into each other's eyes for a long time, silent, as if they were waiting for a reaction from the other ...

And Ink had attacked. Without a word, without deigning to enter into their usual verbal joust, he had fought Error to exhaustion, only to disappear quickly in a portal the next instant under the surprised gaze of the Destroyer.

“What shall I doooooo ?” Ink sobbed after appearing in Nyx's room, collapsing on his bed where he had rolled into a ball, a cushion in his arms.

The black-boned skeleton patted him gently on the shoulder as he finished his packet of chips, listening patiently to him complain:

“He doesn't care if I don't know, it suits him just fine! Maybe he loves someone else and I was in the way of seducing him from the beginning... I'm the worst ... !

- But no, but no. Don't worry Ink, I know it's hard but hold on. We'll move on to stage two soon, ok?”

He handed him a crisp, which the painter gladly accepted, stuffing it in his mouth as he sniffed it, wiping his tear-fogged eyes. Nyx slid his hand over his skull and caressed him gently, in an almost paternal gesture that soon reassured him. Finally he finally dozed off, far too comfortable in the bed that was not his, smelling the smell of Nyx, which had become impregnated in the sheets and which, it must be said, was not unpleasant.

*** ***

Error grunted, blasted a tree in his path. Fuckin' fuckin' .... A WEEK! A fucking week Ink ran away from him like the plague for no good reason! A fucking week that he didn't come to see him anymore, that he didn't even talk to him anymore, that he didn't even talk to him anymore!

Seriously, what was that last fight? Their fights were exciting because, in addition to inflicting resistance on each other, they shared animated verbal jousts that Error could only have with the painter! And there, at their last fight, Ink didn't say a word?

WHAT THE HELL...

His sons exploded a rock that was passing by.

Seriously... Error suddenly realized his thoughts, stopped dead in amazement:

“... Ah ... Ahah... What am I thinking? It almost looks like I'm worried. But no, no, I don't care, at least I have peace, I finally have peace! Ahahah!”

He banged his skull against a trunk. Damn it. Damn it.

Next time he saw the artist, he'd smash it.

*** ***

Nightmare tapped frantically on his desk, anxious and perplexed. It had been a few days since Nyx had given him some 'advice' but he still hadn't managed to put it into practice. Or rather, the few times he had tried had ended in disaster. The few times his arm had 'accidentally' brushed against Killer's arm, his subordinate had frozen for fear of being hit, upsetting the nightmare master to the core ... and forcing him to question himself completely.

He was impulsive, he was aware of it. He could be terribly violent and, unfortunately, it was often his henchmen who paid the price, even Killer. They were used to it and Nightmare had never cared about that before, but now... Now it pissed him off, it pissed him off to know that even the person he... he 'liked' was afraid of him.

“Fucking...”

He growled. Basically, it wasn't just Killer he had to calm down with, but all his subordinates. He didn't say it enough and would probably never admit it, but the bad guys had somehow become his new family.

He huffed and puffed, left his chair and walked out of the room into the kitchen... where he almost choked:

“ NYX ?!”

Indeed the black-boned skeleton was sitting quietly at the kitchen table, drinking a carton of milk as if it were the most normal thing in the world. He took the time to finish his sip before putting the empty bottle back on the table and then gently wiping his mouth with a towel. Nightmare was perplexed: he had already noted that, although Nyx seemed ill-mannered, he nevertheless possessed gestures close to the aristocracy, which only added one more mystery to this unwanted guest.

“Good morning, Nightmare.

- There's no such thing as 'good morning'! Get out of here before someone sees you!

- But you've already seen me.

- You know exactly what I mean!”

Footsteps made him shut up and turn around. Someone was coming this way! Nightmare simply couldn't let anyone know that he would be harboring a manipulative complete stranger who was giving him 'advice' in flirting! So he turned back to Nyx, ready to give him his orders:

“Hide...”

But Nyx was already gone. And yet Nightmare hadn't heard the slightest sound of teleportation. One more strange thing about his guest...

“Talking to yourself, boss?” Killer suddenly asked as he entered the room, glaring at his superior.

The master of the house used violence to maintain his self-control. Why, of all those present in the castle, was it his lover who was coming here at that very moment? He mentally insulted his damn karma and gave Killer a black look:

“No, I'm thinking out loud. Aren't you supposed to be on a mission?”

His henchman swallows:

“Um... Yeah, but I'm done. I just came by for a snack before... well...”

Nightmare frowned, suddenly quite suspicious. When Killer hesitated like this, it was because he was trying to hide something. And the keeper of negativity hated being kept from him.

“Before what?” he scolded as he approached.

Killer stepped back towards the counter, understanding his blunder and trying miserably to find a suitable lie. But few could fool Nightmare.

“Before... ...before I went out...”

He knocked on the drawers, hiccuping with fear, and his apprehension made him want to cower, to hide underground.

The atmosphere became a little colder ... and Nightmare suddenly pressed him against the worktop, making him squeal in pain.

"Before you go out with who?! "said the master, knowing the answer.

Killer clenched his teeth, looked away trembling. He simply couldn't hold his lover's gaze when he was in such anger.

- You're scaring him –

Nightmare tensed up, as much because of this observation as because of the surprise of hearing a voice in his skull. A voice that was all too familiar to him, probably because he had heard it in person not even a few minutes ago. Nyx's voice.

Damn, because that asshole was telepathic, too?

- Killer wants to run away from you. He doesn't understand you. He doesn't understand why you're picking on him like this. He thinks you only want to keep him so you don't lose face, to show that you're still the master. He doesn't see that you're afraid of losing him –

Nightmare froze, his eyes still fixed on Killer. Killer who had closed his eyes, visibly waiting to be violated as always.

- When you have sex, he probably enjoys the pain. But being masochistic in bed doesn't mean you're masochistic in everyday life. Have you ever thought of being gentle with him, of giving him loving moments even if it means taking it out on you? –

Yes. He had considered it. But he couldn't, he was... he was afraid? Yes. He was terrified. Terrified of opening himself up to his lover, of letting his feelings show, of letting his soul show... only to be stabbed, betrayed in the vilest of ways.

He was afraid Killer would turn on him.

“... Ni... Nightmare ... ?”

He blinked, confused, to meet Killer's gaze. Killer was worried, not understanding why his superior wasn't moving, why he seemed so... sad?

"I, uh... is everything okay? You're really weird right now..."

He dared to say that despite their position, despite the fact that he was at the mercy of his lover, that he could potentially be used as an punching ball for him ... Because even though he doubted Nightmare, Killer was still madly in love with him.

And that made the landlord shudder.

“... Killer...”

The guardian, with a knotted throat, couldn't control himself. All his rage had given way to guilt and sadness and, without the slightest thought, he came to embrace his lover, burying his face in his neck:

“... Don't leave me ... I beg you ...”

Killer didn't hide his amazement, his soul racing away without him noticing, as much because of this request as because of this unexpected hug. He hesitated, wondering if it was another trick of the nightmare master... except that even for a plan, Nightmare would never beg. He would never stop to that, unless it was truly sincere.

Killer was overcome by emotion. He responded to the embrace with tears in his eyes:

“I would never... I'll never leave you, I promise you...”

So they stood against each other, savouring this sweet and strange moment, without noticing the darkness in a corner of the room, darkness where a shadow of a tender smile was hiding. That same shadow came to move, to slip into the shadows of other objects in silence, and finally, when she came out of the kitchen, she took on the appearance of a young skeleton with black bones.

Nyx teleported into his room without fear that anyone would hear him. He immediately slumped down on the desk chair and took out his notebook, rather proud of himself:

"Good progress between Nightmare and Killer, although there's still some work to be done. Keep watching them but focus on Ink. Maybe pay Error a visit?"

As he was finishing his notes, he tensed abruptly, letting go of his things which hit the floor. He grabbed his coat, where his soul was. His soul pulsating strongly, far too strongly in his chest, which gave him a stabbing pain. He grimaced, clenched his teeth so as not to shout, not to alert anyone, and rushed to his bag.

He searched nervously inside, trying to stay in control of his breathing became erratic, his body was suddenly convulsing. His phalanges suddenly brushed against something smooth, familiar. He grabbed it and pulled it out of the bag.

An apple. A beautiful apple, completely black.

He immediately took a bite out of it. The abnormal acidity of the fruit didn't shock him, he had got used to it by now. He had become accustomed to the fact that every bite left a pungent taste on his palate, an icy sensation in his throat. He had gotten used to feeling, just for a second, a lot of unpleasant feelings. Anger, distress, sadness... A mob of feeling that ran through him all the way, that assaulted him like a violent bite on every bone before reaching his soul ... and everything returned to normal. Completely normal.

He sighed a long sigh, the suffering having completely disappeared. His gaze wandered through the bag and he noted, with a hint of bitterness:

“I don't have much left... “

*** ***

The field of echoing flowers radiated in an unusual way, emitting warm colours such as red or yellow, giving the impression of a field of small sunsets. It even radiated warmth, a very gentle warmth that made Ink shudder and pushed him to come closer, to reach out his hand and caress one of the petals with his fingertips.

“Tch, Dream has no imagination.” he suddenly heard.

He turned around, barely astonished by the presence of the stranger despite his sigh:

“Hey, Night, didn't they teach you not to intrude on other people's dreams?

- Shut up, I'm working.”

The painter raised his eyes to the sky without really worrying. He knew that Nightmare wouldn't give him the slightest nightmare, otherwise he wouldn't have shown himself to him.

He returned to contemplating the field, which was far too beautiful to be real. It made him duller if compared to the blue field of Outertale, the field overlooked by the night sky that Ink enjoyed watching so much.

"I'd like to think in peace ... he finally blew at the goalkeeper's address.

- I need to talk to you.”

The creator raised an arcade and turned towards him. Nightmare growled:

“This is the only place where we won't be disturbed.

- Disturbed by whom? Nyx?

- Who else? I don't trust this guy.”

Ink tilted his head to the side:

“Why? Doesn't it work with Killer?”

The master of nightmares got worse and worse, with a fleeting look in his eyes:

“Yes, but ... it doesn't matter, that's not the point!”

Night took on a more serious look:

“You noticed it too, didn't you? He comes out of nowhere but seems to know everything about us. Even you, the Creator, know nothing about him. Isn't that strange?

- I also wonder... But the balance of the multiverse doesn't seem to be affected. Then I'm not worried. Besides... I don't know. I feel good with him.

- Ah, you're gonna give up Error for him?”

Ink swelled his cheeks:

“Nonsense! With Error it's different!”

His eyes grew sadder:

"With Error ... there is this bond. This invisible link. I... I want to be there for him. Protect him, show him he's not alone. I want to be able to give him a smile, to be with him... I want to see him happy, and I want to be the only one who can make him happy.”

He had a bitter laugh:

"It's selfish, isn't it?

- Yeah. Terribly selfish.”

Nightmare looked down:

"...but I feel the same.”

New silence ... before the guardian of negativity regains some spirit, a mischievous smile appearing on his face:

“Hey, maybe we can try something with Error.”

Ink looked at him in perplexity:

“What do you mean?

- In itself, we don't know how he feels about you. But I can tell you that he has been giving off a strong anger since you ignore him.

- Wha... is that true? Why didn't you say so?!”

Nightmare simply sneered before resuming:

“Look, I'll give you a test: let's fight. If he comes to save you, we'll know that he cares about you!

- ... And if he doesn't?

- I'll kill you and then I'll take care of Dream.”

The creator is outraged:

“Fucking Nightmare! I was starting to think you were cool!

- Ahah, what did you think? I'm still the master of nightmares, poor naive painter!”

***

Ink sighed exasperated, his comrade always had to ruin such a moment! This annoyed him and he decided to slump between the flowers, closing his eyes so he wouldn't have to bear the sight of the other skeleton anymore. Nightmare looked up to the sky at his reaction and came to join him, collapsing beside him before looking up at the dreamy sky. He wasn't used to enjoying a dream, it felt... strange but pleasant.

“... I searched for Nyx's spirit. Just to give him a nightmare, Nightmare suddenly confessed. But ... I found nothing. Since he's been in my house, I have the feeling that this guy isn't sleeping.”

He hated it. Gaining access to someone's subconscious was important to Nightmare, it reassured him because he knew he had a minimum of control over every living thing. A means of pressure to keep control of events. But Nyx was everything he hated: elusive and mysterious.

“I can't feel his emotions either.”

He ended up taking a look at Ink, who was now paying close attention to him.

“...as if he had no soul.” finished Nightmare.

The creator froze.

The subject of the soul was most sensitive to him. He still didn't have one, but his vials had begun to have side effects on his body, allowing him to feel emotions without having to consume them all the time. And falling in love with Error had only further destabilized these strange effects: it was as if, slowly, a soul was beginning to be created in the Creator, although he wasn't sure and didn't dare to get his hopes up.

Ink looked up at the sky, uncomfortable and perplexed. He breathed softly:

“... If Nyx turns out to be dangerous, I will take care of it. But for now ... I would like to trust him.”

Nightmare growled but said nothing else.

There was nothing more to say.

===

Next Chapter

You can support me on my Utip or on my Ko-fi account !

#nyx #vantablack child #vantablack #inkmare #inkmare child #error #ink #undertale #undertale au #killer #nightmare #dreamtale #bad sanses #fanfiction #Guardian Angel #errink #killermare

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scarlettlawyer · 5 years

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Part 10 of my reaction/commentary to the Phantoms & Mirages fanfic series by @renegadewangs

(Chasing Phantoms): Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

(Haunted Specters): Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

(Vanquishing Mirages): Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

So moving forward, as I continued to read on, there was a backdrop of salt, apathy & hurt overshadowing everything as established in the previous post. But I was still reading on because “might as well see what happens I guess”. Starting Vanquishing Mirages chapter 20, I was also nervous & intrigued. Nervous about how the narrative was going to go about this and what the result was going to be… So I read on kind of with bated breath.

And it just remains in that interesting stage for a little while, the uncertainty stage where I don’t really know where it’s gonna go, for those first few paragraphs, as I’m waiting and reading on to see how it turns out… and then it takes a downturn when the negative emotions just start POURING in tsunami style and everything just starts crashing down horribly. I go quickly from nervous/intrigued to kind of horrified as it strikes me just. How. Traumatic and overwhelming the entire experience would be for someone who has never really had to deal with emotions of much severity their entire life. I’m just oh no… oh no…….. oh nooooo….. I didn’t foresee this at all, so distracted by so many things up until this point, and yet it makes perfect sense. But it was a real punch huh. This was awful, what a disaster. This was not good… Which is basically what Simon says:

What a mess. What a complete, total and utter mess. […] Perhaps this was punishment for playing god. Perhaps they’d flown too close to the sun. Perhaps they were Frankenstein, responsible for giving birth to a failed creation.

Me:

[hides away in a corner because I think we broke him lads]

Vanquishing Mirages, Chapter 21

The Phantom blinked, shedding a few more tears as he did so. Perhaps he hadn’t quite processed Simon’s words. Perhaps he hadn’t quite processed the situation in general. He swallowed and sniffed, then tilted his head backwards.

Am I meant to be picturing this in anything less than stunningly beautiful and fluid animation? Because I am not picturing this in anything less than gorgeously rendered animation.

Whatever it was that’d held Bobby back from touching the Phantom before, it was gone now. He placed a hand atop the Phantom’s clenched fist, hoping it might soothe him. “Whoah, it’s okay. It’s fine.” “It’s not fine! How dare you claim that it’s fine?! YOU did this to me!”

AAAAAAND WE’RE BACK LADIESANDGENTLEMAN HELLO THERE NARRATIVE FRAMING OF HIM AS A CHILD: ACTIVATE

HELLO! this is exciting and new!

“Calm yourself.” “I can’t! I CAN’T!”

He really wouldn’t know how to or be able to!

AND THEN AT THIS POINT IT JUST HIT ME

THIS MAKES PERFECT SENSE

HE ACTUALLY WOULD HAVE THE EMOTIONAL MATURITY OF A CHILD BECAUSE HE’S NEVER HAD THE OPPORTUNITY TO MATURE EMOTIONALLY, DUH, CAUSE HE LACKED EMOTIONS SO MUCH, THIS IS BRAND NEW TO HIM H

Narrative framing of him as a child during Haunted Specters REALLY paying off even more right now! We’ve already reaped so much from those seeds. But now! Oh boy!

“We would not honor such a request even if it were within our capabilities. Congratulations, Phantom. You are now free to tussle with emotions just like every other human.”

MY FEELINGS/REACTION TOWARDS THIS WHOLE SITUATION CHANGED SO FAST IT WAS LIKE:

“Oh noooo… this is so awful and terrible for him this is too much I can’t handle th… W-wait. Phphhw. Heh. Hah. HahahaHAHAHA MUAHAHA YEEEES ONE OF US ONE OF US DEEEEEEEAL WITH IT HAHAHA SUCKERRRRRRRR!”

The Phantom’s wide eyes followed Fulbright out the room. Apparently, his departure served to rile the man up even further. “Get back here! Bobby Fulbright! You get back here and end my suffering RIGHT NOW!”

This is just so good this is just so good hohoooh!

The Phantom sniffed and huffed. Flinched and scrunched his eyes shut, his breathing turning to more helpless sobs. Tears continued to run down the side of his face, disappearing into locks of hair just above his ears.

Hey yeah just saying it again. This is nothing but pure unadulterated animation mode for me. With REALLY GOOD animation. A really gorgeous 2D anime style.

Simon hesitated for a moment, then placed a careful hand atop the Phantom’s closed eyes. They felt soggy and unpleasant to touch. “Focus on the sound of my voice and nothing else. Focus on my voice and breathe.”

IT’S WEIRD CAUSE LIKE. I HAD VERY FRESH PHANTOMQUILL WOUNDS AT THIS POINT OF READING BUT. Right up until The Kiss prior to the surgery I had been very firmly in the parental-child dynamic mindset camp and thoroughly enjoying myself. It was the kiss and stuff that I found jarring at first BECAUSE of that before getting up and moving over to phantomquill mode, only for it to turn out to be fake phantomquill. You’d think it might actually be hard for me to go back to “Oh the phantom is a child and Bobby and Simon are his parents” after the phantomquill fiasco but in terms of mindset, it really wasn’t difficult because I’d only been in Phantomquill mode comparatively VERY briefly before it got destroyed. I was already thoroughly versed in the ways of the parent-child dynamic heh and had spent waaaay longer enjoying that lens. Being so used to it, it was easy enough to switch back over to it.

Do NOT get me wrong, I was still VERY upset over it, yet somehow I could still deeply enjoy the familial dynamic between Simon and the phantom in this moment.

So I basically was still grumbling angrily about phantomquill under my breath while somehow simultaneously excitedly going “OMG SUPPORTIVE DAD SIMON!!!”

Me: yeah. Yeah. You’re really just Piling On that family dynamic after that huge mess with the kiss and the baiting??? Just showing me blatantly to my face how wrong I was to ever read romance into anything? You have the gall to?

Also me: …I still love the parent-child dynamics from this series so FIIINE I do appreciate this scene. I appreciate it a lot, actually. HMPH

Talk about being of a conflicted mind. But there’ll be more mention of that to come.

…Oh, and yeah, I have still been referring to him as the phantom, haven’t I? Well that’s simple: it’s what the narrative is still calling him, so I continue to call him by that title until it is dropped by the narrative itself

Besiiides, for all intents and purposes, during this small gap of time until it changes, he is NOT quite Lex yet, because he has not yet accepted the name and nor has the narrative itself.

So we get this awesome little window which is just, he’s still “the phantom” if that’s the only title we have before “Lex” is accepted and taken on. Pure, unfiltered “Phantom” + Emotion and it’s sooo special. Which… yes… Phantom + Emotions = becomes Lex but… argh, it gets confusing very quickly for me. :P

The question seemed to startle the Phantom for some reason. … No, not the Phantom. It was Lex, now. That notion still felt foreign. Perhaps Alexander would be more suitable. More formal. Less personal.

I WAS SOOO THANKFUL FOR THIS ON FIRST READTHROUGH. I was thankful for how jarring Simon was finding it too (because in that respect he certainly wasn’t alone lol – I wasn’t alone). I was thankful that the narrative hadn’t immediately switched over to saying “Lex” after he woke up from surgery. Oh, and I’d even been thankful waaay back when his name being Alexander Luster Jr was first revealed that the narrative switch hadn’t been made then either. I mean, it wasn’t for OBVIOUS reasons but like… Technically that’s his name. So the narrative could have tried making an attempt at it and I was just glad he was still always “the Phantom” even when we knew what his name was when he was born. Cause he sure as hell didn’t accept the name back then.

But I was SUPER thankful for Simon deciding to call him “Alexander” too. It was kind of a real godsend BECAUSE LIKE. The name “Lex” was so heavily entrenched and still attached in my mind to that super mean bald dude that got killed off. It was a name that therefore felt “ugly” that had been attached to a man with an “ugly” personality. And whoever this man was that woke up from the surgery, it sure as HELL didn’t feel like his name. I was kinda like “buddy. If you want me to start calling this character “Lex” you’ve got another thing coming.” So having “Alexander” instead was a relief that helped A LOT at the time lol. It was sooo much easier to switch to. And Simon going for the more formal variant is such a Simon thing to do anyway. XD

Also???? Alexander… Alexander Luster… felt like such a pretty name actually???? BUT I MEAN. I am the first to admit that I am probably extremely biased on that front. And that I’d probably just. End up thinking just about any name applied to him was “pretty”. LOL.

But yeaaahhh although I kinda had a hard time with the “Lex” business at first, after a little bit of time it became easy to accept, as it usually goes with these things. Now I’ve got 0 problems with it. Lex is Lex!

“That makes you nothing more than an ungrateful child,” Simon grumbled, finally stepping away from the window to take his own seat.

Every time the narrative makes a DIRECT reference or draws a DIRECT parallel to him being a child it feels like it adds another 3 years to my lifespan.

“Ahahahah! I-I c-can’t! Hahahahah! Ahahahahah! Irony!~”

…

MEOWZY. YOU. YOU. DID THIS. YOU MADE THE CONSCIOUS DECISION TO PUT A TILDE THERE. H.

You did that. You did that on purpose. What did you doooooo. What’s HAPPENING

I can’t… I… just needed to point this out and take you to task over it. GOSH

The i-intent… the intent of this in the narrative

As if to say,

Look… Look at how… endearing

As if to say,

“Yes, you not only can, but SHOULD find this endearing”…………

Ohooooh it’s too much IT’S.

It’s death by tilde is what it is. You didn’t. Need to. You could have just left the words and such as it was. But you threw it in, intentionally showing off how we’re supposed to take this just in case there’s any mistake.

You’re under arrest.

Vanquishing Mirages, Chapter 22: Epilogue

Still, as he raised the headphones to his ear, he heard enough. It was indeed playing music- and what horrid music it was. “-When skies are grey. You’ll never know dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away.” “Where the devil did you get this?” he demanded, virtually throwing it into Alexander’s lap.

BRO THIS IS SO UNREAL.

The sheer image of the (former) phantom listening to music was so wild and then it jUST

Alexander’s fingers began to play with the headphones, twirling them around in his hands as he spoke. “You know, it’s funny. I’ve listened to music before, but it’s like I’ve never really heard it. …Does that make sense?”

OH MY GOOOOOSH. THIS REALISATION HIT ME LIKE A TRUCK. THIS HAD NOT OCCURRED TO ME… AT ALL! BUT IT’S SO…! :D HE CAN LISTEN TO AND ENJOY MUSIC NOW. Get immersed in it. That was the most fantastic realisation to me. No, you don’t understaaaand, you see, as a child, getting immersed in listening to music was so central to me that as a kid I’d come up with a bunch of story ideas involving things like other planets/alien creatures that would revolve their entire society around music, or alien creatures that have no concept of music and get introduced to it and subsequently immersed in it for the first time. This just hit so close to hoooome, oh my goodness, I hadn’t remembered or thought about those memories/story ideas that kid me had for maybe a good ten years, and this fic suddenly reminded me with the headphones business. It’s really not related to the fic to mention but I’d looong forgotten about all those scenarios I’d thought about and it was so cool to be reminded. :’D

BUT ANYWAY BACK TO THE FIC-

Me like three chapters ago: WAAAAH, NOTHING THIS SERIES COULD EVER DO COULD EVER MAKE ME HAPPY AGAIN!

Me reading this chapter not too long afterwards: HMMM OKAY I AM KIND OF VERY HAPPY RIGHT NOW.

Oh and it just occurred to me: my guess is the person who “overslept her own execution” was Cammy Meele!

And now, I’m gonna start talking about Lifting Spirits! But at least just for this post, I’m gonna change things up a little and not segment my comments chapter-wise or comment on little things, but rather talk about stuff pertaining to the earlier parts of the fic as a whole. This is necessary because my thoughts were an unbelievable mess and were so terribly bunched together – that is, thanks to reading through it relatively fast, I guess everything got kind of mixed together, so individual reactions to individual parts of it are a little less well-“defined” than was the case with the prior fics at the point of reading.

...I don't know if I could ever do Lifting Spirits justice. I CERTAINLY don't do it justice in this post. Believe me, I want nothing more than to just sit down and gush endlessly about it because that's what it warrants, but for the time being this post seems to be too busy trying to outline just how much my own disposition threatened to botch and ruin it for myself. XD

But it will get better in future review posts, I promise!

Yeah, my thoughts were a contradictory, convoluted, conflicting mess. There was SO much going on at once for me with regards to how I was responding to the text on first readthrough. It’s hard to know even where to begin. So let’s try and tackle some things in Lifting Spirits:

1 - The Transition from The Phantom to Lex

…It does such a number on my brain on multiple levels. XD. IT MESSES WITH ME SO MUCH, it’s a straightforward concept enough in theory but my brain overloads and threatens to shut down when I try to wrap my head around it. XD

I love the phantom, so my instinctive bias at first was to try and cling to the label of “the phantom” as long as I could until it’s finally surrendered.

So, I’ve said already that I was kinda nervous about how this transition was gonna be pulled off. There’s always SORT OF a risk involved when going ahead and giving the phantom an identity and making them no longer the phantom – it kind of wanders straight into the Original Character zone. This New Character who used to be the phantom, in such cases, does get a bit of a complimentary “boost” of my investment in them by virtue of having been the phantom, but beyond that, the new character in the phantom’s place must learn to pull their own weight in the story. They cannot purely rely on having been the phantom – they must develop on their own and give the audience due reason to be invested in the new character. And/or, they must still have some ties connecting them back to having been the phantom too, even with their new characterisation and personality.

So yeah, I had literally no reason to be even remotely nervous. Lex is fantastic. And can very VERY easily stand up in the narrative on his own accord. Not only that, but it’s just… genius… the extremity of his emotions is, ironically, the very thing that connects him back to having been the emotionless phantom…! Because it drives home repeatedly that he really has had NO experience with this level of feeling due to his past. It’s a total pendulum swing to the other end of the spectrum and I love it SO damn much.

Regardless of whether he’s Lex or the phantom, he’s still my favourite character.

1.1 – The phantom as Lex/the phantom becoming Lex

Man, this fic.

I swear to god.

I keep trying to type out my thoughts and it’s so hard to be coherent about it.

Lex is… “the (former) phantom”. So I’ll use this phrasing to really drive the point home. Because such a huge amount of what happens, of what’s going on… derives its impact from this very important fact. From the unbelievable contrast. The seeming absurdity of EVERYTHING given who he was.

The former phantom laughs at stupid jokes, gets given a stash of sweets and a Jokes & Riddles book thanks to Bobby, gets goofily absorbed in a phone game………… The list just goes on.

You are doing this. You are making me read all this stuff involving the former phantom with my own two eyes, I… I…… This flippin’ portrayal. Almost feels like it should be illegal xDDDD

1.1a - YOU ARE WHAT IS KNOWN AS AN ENABLER

I have been… a fan of the character known as the phantom for many years now… I started playing through the Ace Attorney games in December 2014, and played Dual Destinies in the first half of 2015. I’ve had years to jokingly talk about the phantom ironically in an “awwww just look at them, awwww how innocent/”cute”” way, obviously knowing damn well they’re not.

And I basically went into Chasing Phantoms with, on some level, an attitude of “haha you can TRY to make me hate the phantom, I know you will, but I won’t let you”

Big mistake, to head into this series stubbornly guarding a totally opposite area of phantom perception compared to what I SHOULD have been guarding against.

And then you just

Came along and took the character

And did this.

It was fine at first in like, Haunted Specters and then Vanquishing Mirages. It was a big joke that everyone was in on. It was a joke and it was funny and I was laughing along with it. Albeit. An evolving joke.

And then Lifting Spirits just

It jUST

All of a sudden I had to be like wait a minute. I was just like whoa, whoa. Hold up. You can’t – WAIT a minute. No WAIT

I walked into this trap with no defences prepared. I’d walked into this series going “I’d like to see you try and make me truly hate this man, but it won’t work, I’ll make sure it doesn’t work out of spite” and now all of a sudden this was all happening at once and I had to suddenly try and backpedal dramatically out of the trap and be like wait wait wait no this is, this is, he was?? A bad guy was he not? Wait what are we-

The scales were tipping too far for my liking – too far in a direction I was ALREADY biased and predisposed towards and I wanted to stop it but what defence did I haaave

It’s like the narrative was poking me and going “Hey. So. Your favourite character. He’s pretty great, right? Right?” and I’d shake my head and try my best to go, “No… No! He isn’t – this isn’t right! What! There has to be some kind of mistake! This is a thirty-seven year old man who has killed people WHAT IS GOING ON”

And this is also, at the same time, set against a backdrop of me still stubbornly trying to cling to a mindset of not wanting this man to be able to cheat death or the finality of execution.

So here’s the first of many contradictory feelings I was having at once:

“This man must be punished and therefore I can’t abide by such a lighthearted portrayal” vs “I love this man so much and every single moment of this lighthearted portrayal is GOLD and I love it sooo much”

2- The Phantom VS Lex

The portrayal of my favourite character was making me rather pleased, but it felt way too good to be true on three different fronts. Firstly, the amusing absurdity in and of itself made it hard to process this was Really Happening, the levels of it feeling “unreal” were so much and I was so stunned and I was sincerely struggling to process it at first. Secondly, it just felt so catered to me (LOL) and “too good to be true” that I felt like. Like. The narrative surely couldn’t be doing something so great. A similar kind of inability to believe this was “really happening” which had cropped up during Haunted Specters. And this was heavily fuelled by, THREE… My pesky little reactions to our old friend, Fake Phantomquill.

The hurt that I was feeling over the phantomquill unfortunately seeped into and tainted my perception of other parts of the story and caused me to get irrationally defensive in many respects at the time. See, as I’ve implied, part of what was so very appealing to me about Legit one-sided phantomquill coming to fruition just before the surgery is that it felt like the final step in taking the phantom further down from his pedestal and that much closer to “joining the ranks of humanity” just in time for surgery that would have “the phantom” cease to be altogether and allow him to make the full transformation. It wasn’t so much about phantomquill itself as it was about the notion of the phantom being attracted to someone and causing such a big, stupid mess as a result, of being a fundamentally flawed human being but flawed in a vulnerable-

who claimed to be made of nothing but pure logic only to, in his final moments as the phantom act in the most illogical-

It’s silly, I know. First of all, if anything, it can be kind of arophobic, depending on how it’s done, to use “attraction to another person” as a proof or demonstration of a character’s core humanity. It’s just… That’s what I’d tricked myself into thinking the set-up was for, I guess. So when the set-up got so thoroughly negated and didn’t come to fruition, it felt like it had intentionally done the opposite with a bait and switch, and that instead of showing that even the phantom can fall from his pedestal in his final moments before “the phantom” ceases to be, it then seemed the goal was to demonstrate with a great sense of finality that actually, he is despicable and will never be anything but despicable and that we never should have expected anything more up until the very end.

Except… it was silly of me to feel like this first of all seeing as the phantom had already demonstrated during the narrative plenty that he very much does have the capacity to care about other people in his own very odd way. He DID go through character development. Just because none of the feelings he demonstrated were based on attraction doesn’t diminish what he did demonstrate. The Fake Phantomquill Kiss in and of itself is proof of caring because he was ultimately trying to protect Bobby.

But at the time it was hard for me to see that through my hurt. It’s an irrational perspective to take but I wasn’t being rational because of that hurt, and I was distrusting as a result. So, strangely enough, the phantom “dying” as the “filthy criminal he is” after the little show he put on, and then becoming Lex and waking up from the surgery with all these emotions kinda felt to me almost like it was throwing “the phantom” and all the progress as a character he’d made under the bus – of all the potential he’d shown prior to surgical interference.

There was just so much emphasis in the narrative on separating “the phantom” from “Lex” which was fair enough, but it felt to my irrational wounded self like “the phantom” was suddenly being characterised as “Pure Evil” in order to further the ends to which Lex could then be set up as “good”, when we’d previously spent around 2 fics delving into how, while the phantom is very much a villain and none of his crimes can be negated, there is more to him, and he’s, at the very least, not Evil 24/7. Almost like “the phantom” and “Lex” were being pitted against each other which I realise is stupid because c’mon, how can Lex as a character throw the phantom under the bus when Lex was the phantom? When he is merely another huge step – leap – in the character’s evolution? The transformation into Lex can’t negate any of the character development HE made prior to that point, prior to the surgery.

Another important thing to note, which I am extremely grateful to the narrative for, is that Bobby cared about the phantom not only before the surgery, but before the bone sliver was even discovered in the first place. And Simon had also been slipping back then, although he was not nearly as far-gone as Bobby was. But such a thing really helps acknowledge the phantom as a character… and does help reiterate that he wasn’t completely worthless and/or “not worthy of anything” prior to becoming Lex.

I did come to realise that I was, in fact, just needlessly worrying over pure semantics and that there was no point in doing such a thing. Regardless of how one might construe it, this man, Lex, was the same person in the sense that he has all the same memories. There is still a continuity of existence. The "death" of the phantom was only the death of the label itself, the mindset, but the man who had carried the title had still lived on. It allowed, helped that man to shed the worst of what had been part of him before and opened up so much for him.

It's just, the notion of a character actively striving to be good and overcoming themselves vs a sudden fix that gets externally applied, and it felt like any previous striving, however miniscule, threatened to be rendered obsolete by it.

But this was a misplaced notion of mine if there ever was one because not only does it not override previous character development, but the previous character development was necessary for not only making the surgery and its outcome possible, but also a crucial part of the character's arc that can't be overlooked narratively speaking. It is not Lex that characters like Bobby and Athena abruptly start believing in. They'd already believed in him before he was Lex, and they are who campaign for the surgery in the first place. And it is the phantom himself to give the final push and the go-ahead to make it happen through his consent, a vital component to it being made possible. It wasn't erasure, it was never about erasure. It was about continuity and expanding and developing on what was already there. (And I know as well as anyone that the extent of the outcome, and this progress wouldn't have been possible without some form of external interference. It was necessary.)

Whenever I did manage to reconcile it, it was just about the best thing in the world haha.

So yeah, most of this was basically me outlining my distortion of the text and then debunking myself…

I swear my opinions/thoughts/feelings had just about splintered in a million different directions mostly thanks to the shadow cast by my stupid phantomquill pain. XD. My mindset almost threatened to regress to harbouring that foolish unfounded sense that the author didn’t truly care about “the phantom”, and only cared about the person who woke up after that surgery instead. Which is nonsense because Haunted Specters & Vanquishing Mirages clearly indicate otherwise. Why bother spending two entire fics focusing on the phantom so much if the author didn’t care about the phantom? If they wanted to just do away with the phantom and replace him with someone new that they did care about, there were way shorter ways to go about it. I mean, I knew that it was the dumbest concern and that it was incorrect to even consider at this point, but that didn’t stop me from foolishly wasting time on it. It was so hard to believe & trust the story was so attuned to me after being “betrayed” that I semi-adopted/saw the more “hurtful” interpretation as the more “realistic” one.

But reading Lifting Spirits over again so far only reiterates what I realise was the case back then: I only had myself to blame, I was the one vastly exaggerating the perceived distinctions that were being made between Lex and the phantom in the text not only because of my own latent concerns but because of how personally mindboggling I was finding it.

And all the while, I’m SIMULTANEOUSLY borderline scolding the text for how seemingly soft it’s being on the (former) phantom and thinking that the author’s phantom bias is showing. Talk about doublethink!

I had been thinking this entire series that I was perfectly safe to “gush” over this man, because at least the author knew what was what, at least the author still had her senses about her and wouldn’t let it go too astray or let it get out of hand. IF THE AUTHOR IS TREATING HIM LIKE THIS AND I’M TREATING HIM LIKE THIS… THEN WHO’S DRIVING THE PLANE?!

And keep in mind too that I read through Lifting Spirits… Rather quickly. So I’ve got all of these tangled thoughts I’m trying to process at once meanwhile I’m just breezing through the chapters, not really giving myself any real chance to sort through my thoughts and untangle the messes that had formed.

I was somehow managing to feel overwhelmingly thrilled and yet hurt by the narrative at the same time. AAAAALLL the contradictory thoughts and feelings. Contrarian mode was on, it seemed, as I tried to juggle so many opinionated stances and arguments at once that cancelled each other out:

“The phantom was a human being too, with his own issues and he ALSO had (limited) feelings DON’T IGNORE THIS” vs “how dare you portray someone who used to be the phantom, a remorseless killer unworthy of a second thought, in such an endearing manner” vs “ohhhh I love this endearing portrayal so much it’s pure SUSTENANCE to me it’s so entertaining & amazing & makes me so happy” vs stubborn attempts to still cling to “make sure that execution goes ahead, this man still isn’t allowed to escape death” with a slight backdrop of that phantomquill salt-fueled apathy & denial. I was somehow now on the defensive and trying to argue that the phantom hadn’t been 100% despicable and yet also trying to retain the stance that the man in his place still needed to die because the phantom had been 100% despicable. YEP. Walking contradiction. Absolutely wild.

Oh also I just loved Lex in his own right too on top of all this, not just because he used to be the phantom. But because he’s LEX.

It’s all very confusing, I hope I didn’t confuse you too much. XD

Oh, also:

When it came to me feeling that the phantom – or rather, the person who used to be him – was being portrayed too lightly by the narrative given his history – Chasing Phantoms renders completely obsolete any possible argument about the series “skewering one’s perception of the phantom too far off-base”. It renders completely obsolete any possibility that the author was not “aware” of the true depths of his despicableness when going for this angle.

Chasing Phantoms’ existence, to me, makes Lifting Spirits all the more awesome, and strengthens its power. “The Phantom that Lex used to be was ruthless and terrible and awful and caused so much damage and destruction” is not just an offhand acknowledgement that gets referenced back to – it was portrayed firsthand in the first fic, in the series itself. It’s like it goes out of its way to drive home that undeniable fact that the phantom REALLY sucks, and yet Lifting Spirits exists anyway, even with FULL acknowledgement of that. I love that sooo much. It just straight up embraces it and doesn’t try to hide a damn thing. This was who he used to be. This is who he is now. That’s just how it is.

As already established, Chasing Phantoms felt like another universe when I read Lifting Spirits – way before then, even. It was SO hard for me to remember that, he was in fact, actually portrayed in a negative light. It’s actually really great to me that the series didn’t start with Haunted Specters – it did not seek to make the phantom sympathetic or whatnot from the start. He gets to clown around as the villain he truly is for an entire fic before any transition over to protagonist even begins to take place. The story doesn’t briefly go “yeah so we all know the phantom is bad and all obviously but…” and moves straight on, it spends a LONG time elaborating on HOW bad the phantom is back at the very start before proceeding on to anything else.

By the way, I’m aware it would be stupid to make arguments about “not knowing the full extent of how sucky the phantom is” purely on the basis of it not being demonstrated firsthand if that was the case, because like, everyone already knows, so we don’t need to be shown. But I’m merely pointing out how cool I find it that this series does demonstrate it firsthand anyway, because it just further crushes such potential arguments.

If Chasing Phantoms did not exist it would be almost easy to trick oneself into thinking that the full extent of the phantom’s villainy was not truly being acknowledged by the story, given Lex’s portrayal by the narrative (despite him being a “new person”, the fact remains that he was the phantom.) The Phantom is – was - very much a villain, and we know very clearly that the current portrayal of that man who used to be him doesn’t minimise that.

There was another big thing I wanted to talk about connected to much I’ve discussed in this post, but I’ll have to leave it for the next one! I had to cut sooo much from this I’m sorry, I actually did have a bunch of small comments from the beginning of Lifting Spirits. Well, until the next post, which will also get to the middle of the fic too. ^_^

#long post #if this is all over the place it was because my thoughts were all over the place sdjsdnkjsdkj #ghhhh

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yeehawkins · 7 years

Text

Underneath

Black Hat sees what’s under Dr. Flug’s bag again, and is once again not pleased

“Flug! I have business to attend to. Don’t stop working, and do not leave the premises. Understood?” Black Hat boomed.

“Y-yes sir!” Flug responded.

Black Hat swung around, his shoes clicking on the ground, echoing throughout the lab. The metal doors slam, and Dr. Flug was now alone in his lab, no sounds to be heard except for the faint sound of the front door closing as Black Hat walks out.

Fixated on his work, Flug continues to work on whatever new evil project Black Hat had given him. Despite him being gone, Flug continues to feel on edge. He could walk right back in here at any moment and yell at him for whatever reason. He doesn’t let his guard down.

Half an hour passes, and Flug has become very absorbed in his work. Black Hat is usually back by now, being able to teleport and what not. Feeling a bit more at ease, Flug nervously removes his paper bag and goggles, placing the goggles back on his head to keep the light brown hair out of his face. The tint of the goggles lifting, he squints and rubs his eyes a bit. His eyes dart around the room a few times before returning to work.

Flug’s true face, constantly hidden under a paper bag, is a light tan, heavily freckled one. He had a full head of fluffy, silky light brown hair. Constantly hidden under goggles, he has soft, always worried eyes, one brown and one blue. Despite having extremely low confidence, he always thought his eyes were something special and unique.

Wearing that bag is more of a hindrance than anything. It impairs his vision, is an invitation to catch on fire, and acts as such a weak shield of protection in the lab it’s sort of impractical. The goggles may provide eye protection, but they also provide a constant dark tint. Wearing them so often has led his vision to worsen, even if just slightly.

Flug once again became very focused on his work. So focused in fact, that he doesn’t hear the front door open.

The metal doors quickly slide open, and Black Hat is standing in the middle of the doorway. A small, scared sound escapes Flug, freezing. It was far too late to put his bag back on. Only his eyes move, looking over at Black Hat.

Black smoke is emitting from Black Hat. He’s furious. Flug isn’t supposed to take his bag off during work hours. Hell, he’s not even technically allowed to take it off to shower, eat or sleep, but Black Hat knows he has to keep his only scientist at least alive. Happy was never part of the deal.

“Give me one good reason why I can see your face in this moment.” Black Hat said, gritting his teeth.

In Flug’s early days of working for Black Hat he attempted to reason with him as to why he wouldn’t wear the paper bag, but the words fell on deaf ears. Black Hat wouldn’t have any of it, so he eventually just stopped trying to defend himself and wore it. Half out of compliance, and half out of his self-esteem being shattered. Flug did occasionally take it off like today, but only to briefly eat something 5.0.5 brings him or for very short periods of time when Black Hat isn’t there. He’s never been caught before now.

“I-I…” Flug stammered, unable to form words because of the sheer fear Black Hat strikes in his soul.

“I told you, I never want to be reminded of the scum you truly are. Human.” Black Hat seethed, “I will be going back to my desk, and when I return later, I expect to never see your face uncovered ever again. DO YOU HEAR ME?”

Black Hat’s voice deepens as he speaks that last line, his eye becoming red and his teeth baring more. It makes Flug’s chest jump. The pure fear running through his veins leaves him unable to reply with nothing more than sobs and an affirmative “mhmm”.

Black Hat disappears in a black mist as Flug scrambles to put his bag back on and his goggles back over the bag.

His hands are shaky, tears welling up in his eyes. He tries to continue working, but just can’t. Flug sets his tools down and walks over to the corner of the lab, and places his head in his knees and begins sobbing.

God he was so stupid. Why did he at all think he could let his guard down? He’s never safe around here. He grips his head, hearing the rustle of the bag. He sobs a bit harder at the sound. He’ll have to iron it again tonight but right now he doesn’t care.

Metal doors once again open, and he flinches at the sound, expecting Black Hat to come in and yell at him, but it was the other door, and it’s 5.0.5 doing his daily cleaning. Flug goes back to crying into his knees, albeit a bit less intensely. 5.0.5 drops his duster and becomes very concerned for Flug. The bear walks towards Flug and sits with him, bringing him in for a hug.

Freezing at the sudden position change and hug, he then hugs 5.0.5 back, still crying, but now into a large, soft blue bear.

5.0.5 moves a paw to Flug’s head, trying to remove his bag to let him cry easier, but he quickly moves his hands to keep the bag on his head. 5.0.5 frowns, but just decides to pet his head.

Flug sniffles a bit, but he eventually stops sobbing. Tears are still falling, but he isn’t as pathetic as he was a moment ago. He lets go of 5.0.5 and looks at him.

“Thank you 5.0.5.” Flug says.

5.0.5 smiles and makes a happy sound. Flug turns away to lift up his goggles and bag slightly to wipe his eyes.

As he does so, he doesn’t notice the girl crawling down the wall. It was Dementia, who looks over at Flug with a confused look. She shimmies her way down to the floor and approaches Flug. 5.0.5 starts walking away and picks up his duster on the way out.

Flug finally notices Dementia when she pops up right in front of his face. He jumps, and quickly pulls down his goggles and bag.

“Sorry.” Flug utters, thinking Dementia will feel the same about his face as Black Hat does.

“Hmm? For what?” Dementia asks, confused.

“M-my face! You, you don’t need to see it. You almost did.” Flug says, “Just, go away. I need to get back to work.”

Dementia tilts her head, and skitters after Flug as he walks back, springing up in front of him, and once again scaring him.

“But I wanna see!” she says excitedly.

“No, you don’t.” Flug flatly answers.

“I doooooo!” Dementia pouts.

“No. you really don’t.” “Yeeeah I do!! I’ve never seen it! And I wannaaaaa!”

“Dementia! You don’t! Now get of out here and let me work!”

Dementia’s begging visibly annoys Flug, but more like in a brother-sister kind of way. Not like either of them would ever admit though.

Tired of hearing “no”, Dementia goes ahead and removes Flug’s bag. He doesn’t try to fight back, but twitches and tenses up as she removes it, as if preparing to be hit. He also puts his arms up in front of himself, but Dementia pushes them down to look at his face. She examines his face closely. Flug’s eyes, still red and dry from crying, look at Dementia, worriedly. He was waiting for her to insult him any second now.

But she backs away and, smiles?

“He he! You have eyes like me!” she happily says.

Flug untenses. Shocked at the lack of hate.

“Huh. I-I guess I do!” Flug smiles.

Flug had always noticed Dementia’s eyes, one a bright green and the other an icy blue, but it was just a passing detail he never thought very deeply about. Without warning, she picks Flug up and squeezes him, causing a bit of breath to escape him.

“Your face isn’t that ugly!” Dementia says.

“Heh heh, thanks.” Flug responds.

He frees his arms and hugs Dementia back.

“I really need to get back to work now though.” Flug says.

Dementia pouts, “Fine!”, and puts Flug down.

As Flug begins to put his bag back on and Dementia begins skittering away, they both look at each other, Flug lifting his bag back up and smiling at her.

Flug and Dementia never bring up the interaction again, but they definitely had a deeper respect for each other now. But to Black Hat, they’ll always be nothing more than bickering minions. And they’re both ok with him thinking that way.

#villainous #black hat #dr flug #demencia #dementia #2nd fanfic ive ever written #hope yall enjoy #i just had to break our favorite boy #just so he can be comforted

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namonakirei · 6 years

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Children who die at a young age are given a very special role in the afterlife: they become Invisible Friends, assigned to other children who need them back in the living realm. One Invisible Friend is just about to be reassigned from their first ever assignment.

"It'll be ok...." I brush her hair, sighing a bit, "It'll be okay, Sara."

She's crying into her pillow, in the dead of night. It breaks my heart to see Sarah like that... sadly, it's gotten more common lately. And at the worst time...

She sobs once more, but softly, and I smile at her a little, "Hey Saaaaaaaaaaaaaaaara?" I poke her, "Sara, Sara, Sara, Sara!"

"Wh-What?!" She asks, finally lifting her head off the pillow. I give her my silliest grin, and stick out my tongue,

"Bet 'cha can't do what I doooooo!" I start tickling her. She yelps, then starts giggling slowly,

"S-s-stooooop! Eeeee! Hahaha, I can't... Eee! I can't tickle you!" She giggles, trying to wrest my arms away. After a while, she does manage to push me away through force of will, but now her tears are contrasting with a smile. I motion to wipe her tears, and she follws with her thumb. I sigh a little, sitting next to her on the bed. "...Thanks..." She smiles at me. "I don't know what I'd do without you..." She sighs, laying back down on the bed. That one really tugs at my heartsrings so hard I think I might die again.

See, I died when I was eight. And when you're a little spirit, they have you come back to help other kids. They see us the way they want us to be, more or less, and they can hear us and feel us around. Sara's my first friend, and she's turning twelve. She's really big now! I met her when she was three, and she babbled about random stuff all day, it was hard to keep up! Now she's all grown up, drawing things and taking pictures. She's gotten super good at it, too! But... she's almost a teenager. And that means I have to go. I don't want to leave Sara alone... overall not after all the bad stuff that's happened to her... but it's how it works. When she turns thirteen, she won't be able to see me anymore, and I'll get tasked with helping someone else. Whether I want to or not.

It sucks. I want to keep helping Sara... I want to see her grown up, and happy... I don't wanna' leave my friend yet. She's my best friend...

"Sara... do you remember when we met?" I ask quietly. She beams,

"Yeah! Well, sorta'. I was super little..." She sighs, "What was I doing?"

"You were crawling under a tree." I grin. "You told your parents there was treasure there, 'cause you'd seen something shiny. But it was just a candy wrapper..."

"Yeah! The real treasure was you!" She giggles a bit. That's our little story. She had just grabbed at the shiny and seen it was a candy wrapper, and she was starting to cry, when I popped in and blew a raspberry at her, yelling 'surprise!'. She calls me her treasure because of that, sometimes. She sits up, grabbing her pillow and putting it in her lap, "Remember Maria?" She grins at me. I laugh. I remember Maria. She was a jerk, and we sure gave her a spook.

Sara used to get bullied when she was little because her mom cleaned houses back then. Maria was the meanest jerk bothering her around. But she didn't bug Sara anymore after the class went on that one field trip. We hid in the bushes, 'cause Sara is stealthy, and the other kids were all scared from the spooky stories the guide guy was telling about werewolves and stuff. Maria said she bet Sara was hiding 'cause she was such a coward, but when she stepped in front of our bush, I told Sara and she grabbed her by the ankle. Maria shrieked super loud and ran and climbed up the guide, screeching about the mean wolf out to get her. Sara couldn't even get out of the bush, she was laughing so hard! And since then she was Sneaky Sara to her class.

"Of course I remember Maria! Sneaky Sara to the rescue." I laugh, "You sure showed her who the coward was."

She grins proudly, then looks more... like... melancholic. "...That was fun... going out used to be so much fun..." She sighs. Sara has trouble going outside now. She just stays inside, drawing and taking snaps from her bedroom window. When she's with me, I can get her out to play, but sometimes she won't set a foot out of the house. It's been worrying me a lot, though I get what happened scares her a ton.

"I know... but... but it can be fun again, Sara." I think real hard until I stumble into something that might work, "Hey! Hey Sara! Go draw outside!" I beam, "You can draw cool stuff! You keep saying how your trees suck! So go outside and draw a tree! Go under the tree and draw it! Get on top of it and draw it! That's gonna' be great!"

Sara looks hesitant, bringing her knees to her chest and putting the pillow over them, "...you think?" She asks, voice a little muffled.

"Yeah! I think!" I beam. "You're gonna' be the best drawer ever, Sara!" I hug her. She giggles a bit,

"It's artist, silly!" She says, "A drawer is where you put your stuff. An artist is a person who does art."

I pout. I knew that! But I made her laugh... that's the important bit! I grin and ruffle her curly black hair. "...so... are you volunteering again this weekend?"

"Yeah! I wanna' do that every week." Sara nods firmly. "I like helping out there." I smile. I'm so proud of Sara! She volunteers at her grandma's church's soup kitchen. She just does dishes and stuff for now, and chats with people, but she loves to help. She gets so happy when she makes people smile. ...I'm going to miss that smile so much.

Sara frowns at me, "...Hey Mi?" She pokes my face lightly, and I turn to look at her, "...are you ok? You look super... super sad sometimes, lately." She says, quietly. I flinch.

"I..." I look away, "I... I gotta' go, Sara, go to sleep..." I turn away, and I'm about to leave when I hear a sniffle.

"...Did... did I do something wrong?" Sara sniffs, "Am.. am I boring you? I-I'm sorry I said you were silly! That was mean of me! But please don't go... I-I'm sorry I was mean..."

She looks like she's going to cry again. I flinch again... I'm messing it all up! That's wrong!

"Sara... no, I'm sorry Sara! You didn't do anything!" I say. "I... I just..."

We both sit quietly on the bed for a bit, until she prods gently, "What's wrong, Mi?"

"...you're gonna' be thirteen in a couple months..." I mumble. Sara frowns, looking at me for a long while. It feels like forever.

"...Oh..." She says quietly. "...oh." She buries her face in the pillow again. I knew she'd get it. Sara's smart, and she knows lots of stuff that start or end when you are a teen. Her grandma's taught her a lot about that stuff.

We're quiet for even longer, but when she lifts her face, Sara's determined, "...can you visit sometimes? Even if I can't see you?"

"Yeah!" I smile a bit, "...I... I'll have to help someone else... but... I'll always visit" I hug her as hard as I can, and she hugs me back.

"You better! I-I'll become the best artist! And I'll draw outside! And... and... and..." She looks at me, "I'll draw you! I'll draw you, before you go! You-you gotta' pose for me, ok, Mi?"

I nod, grinning a bit, "Yeah! O-okay! I'd... I'd really like that, Sara..." I smile, tears streaming down my face now. I sob a bit, and hug her, "...I don't wanna' go..." I whisper to her. "You're my best friend... the first... person I've helped..."

"...Mi..." Sara hugs me back. It takes willpower to hug one of us, and I can tell she's focusing completely just on giving me a squeeze. "You're my best friend too... b-but I'll be ok! I h-have mom and dad, and my new friends at school, a-and I have grandma, and God's going to help, too! I'll be... I'll be ok..." She sobs quietly. We both do.

We're really sad. But we both know it'll get better... and knowing Sara's so determined to be ok helps me too.

When I have to go, it's night time. Sara was born at like 3 a.m., so she turns thirteen at 3 a.m. too.

I was told it's not usual that us Invisible Friends stay for so long, but that it's a bit more usual with your first kid. We usually leave when they're like, eleven, or twelve, because that's when they stop wanting us around. But... Sara's special. She loves me, and I love her, 'cause we're best friends. I want to stay here forever... but I can't. I know Sara's going to be ok though. She's super strong! And she's been working so hard lately. She's been going into the brush to draw, and she's been getting better. She's been going out more with her friends at school and made a couple in the neighbourhood.

She tried to stay up with me until I had to go, but she conked out sometime past midnight. It's ok though. I ruffle her hair one last time and give her a last hug. I take a deep breath, and get up. I take a good look at Sara one last time, and then I go.

Atop her desk, there's a picture of two kids. One has black, curly hair, a wide smile, and a mint-colored T-shirt and grey cargo shorts. The other has strawy hair, and freckles, and wears a striped blue shirt and shorts. I'll always be smiling at Sara from there. And that's enough. @writing-prompt-s

#story #writing #nros #writing-prompt-s #text post #long post

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