#EXPECT HIS PLOT RELEVANCE TO ALSO BE LONG

[aroaceleovaldez]

i'm so happy you brought back up the topic of rick's shitty writing of anyone even remotely non white / "white passing"

with that being said, do you think the shitty script he gave to annabeth in the show has to do with him just being deeply uninterested in adapting his story to include characters of color? bc it seems like once rick encounters a character that cannot be easily erased all ethnic or racial identity of to fit them into an usamerican specifically white ass narrative, he gets lost.

i just keep thinking how the only thing that "changed" about annabeth as presented in the show was her race but her plot relevance and her characterization got downgraded severely. meanwhile percy, whiter than before (wheres the mediterranean god look......................................), got half her functions. like i just look at rick in context and i wonder if he just gives so little fuck about characters of color he cant even write a decent character arc for an adaptation of a very established persona

thoughts? thank u!

I wouldn't be surprised if it's Rick (and the writer's room, since it actually seems Rick isn't all that heavily involved if much at all with the script itself based on some interviews) just has internal biases that he refuses to reflect on. It would be a consistent trend with the uptick in offensive writing in the books themselves (see: the troglodytes in general, all the Jewish kids in CHB being in Hermes cabin, etc etc). Rick seems to want to engage with these topics but refuses to actually assess how he's approaching it and his own biases while also overemphasizing his engagement with the topics. It's a kind of big talk/words vs actions type thing to me.

[this got a wee bit long so throwing it under a cut]

I was having a couple of conversations about this topic recently - one being group reading/discussion of WottG and how, allegedly, the slightly different characterizations in that book are inspired by the actors in the show. Annabeth is repeatedly and frequently described as motherly and maternal in the book, plus some other misc characterizations that make you tilt your head and go "Wait, what about Leah made you want to write Annabeth this way?" and concerns about it leaning into stereotypes. (It's also strange, because in the show Sally is MUCH more aggressive and less maternal, and this is painted like it's supposed to be a girlboss thing cause her being too soft and motherly was too weak or something? But now book Annabeth is now being described as all soft and maternal??? What. What is happening.)

Another conversation that i had with my therapist (cause we talk about pjo a lot lol) and later repeated and discussed more with other folks on discord more specifically regarding the show was a lot of discussion about the casting. Particularly casting choices and how the writing either is refusing to take casting into consideration to respectfully approach how things would be changed to avoid problems or are actively changing the script for characters in a way that is potentially if not downright offensive. Clarisse is the number one example i bring up because a lot of people say that the reason a plus sized actress wasn't cast for her was to avoid the "fat bully" trope. The thing is, there is ALSO a POC bully trope that is just as bad if not worse, so if they were actually taking offensive tropes into consideration one would expect them to avoid that too (especially since Percy was cast as a pasty white boy - which just makes it all look worse)? (Also other plus-sized characters like Dionysus and Gabe were also cast as skinny, same with Tyson. So it just seems like they don't want to cast plus-sized actors either.)

But also they're rewriting stuff that actively puts the casting decisions into worse tropes. Like hey, why is Percy (a white guy) the one who knows the "real" versions of all these myths and is expositioning them to Annabeth (a black girl), who in the books is supposed to know more than him? Why does he know better than her for some reason and have to guide her? Why is Percy teaching Annabeth about pop culture and how to be a kid? Not to mention stuff like the show constantly encouraging the viewer to doubt or distrust characters like Grover and Clarisse and Annabeth as red herrings as to who the traitor is. Plus there's no adjustments to stuff from the books like Annabeth initially being somewhat aggressive/antagonistic towards Percy, or Clarisse's aggression and bullying towards Percy to try and circumvent those being bad tropes in the contexts of the casting.

And there's an ongoing trend of characters who are antagonistic towards Percy in the books being divided into two groups: those who continue to be antagonistic towards Percy in the show, or those who are tweaked to suddenly become kinda silly-goofy and significantly less threatening. Gabe, Dionysus, Ares, and Hades are all examples of characters that should be antagonistic towards Percy but are softened SIGNIFICANTLY and played for laughs in the show. Echidna is played as a twist antagonist because she initially because she approaches the kids as very sweet and helpful. And they're all cast as white! Meanwhile other characters like Clarisse, Luke, Zeus, etc, are still antagonistic towards Percy (plus also like Annabeth initially and again, Grover being painted as a major red herring). Plus some new additions like Hermes, Mr. Lin Manuel Miranda himself, being wholly introduced into the plot when he's not supposed to appear until book 2, and all he does is sabotage the quest. Like, it's weird! That's a weird writing decision!!!! I get wanting to get that sweet sweet LMM cameo money, but, why is Hermes an antagonist here???????? he's not even supposed to be here yet!.

We also have stuff like Poseidon (who, like many of the god/major kid pairings so far seems to have been cast to match each other appearance-wise) saving the day for Percy and being this weirdly good dad, versus the books where we get the iconic "I am sorry you were born" line and Percy and Poseidon's tension is part of their arcs. Notably, Poseidon does this by ceding to Zeus, who is actively about to start a war. While Gabe is rewritten to be a total loser, Sally is MUCH more aggressive and her yelling and screaming at young Percy is supposed to be sympathetic for some reason? If Gabe were acting like Sally does in the show, he would actually be significantly more like his book counterpart! The show is making active decisions to paint these characters the way they do!

Admittedly, part of it may just be they got overzealous with their casting (not inherently a bad thing! diverse casting is good!) and then proceeded to not consider how that casting affects the way the characters are perceived. It also doesn't bode well for certain guesses we can make going further into the show - Thalia is very at odds with Percy initially. She's a very aggressive character. They fight a lot! Also Annabeth's description already implies that they're tweaking Thalia's character to be more "tough love" versus the books where she's significantly more of a bleeding heart when she first meets Annabeth. Like, I'm very happy about Thalia's casting, her actress seems amazing, but also I'm VERY concerned with how they're going to approach her character to make sure it doesn't end up wildly offensive. Athena is similar - we can guess based on casting decisions so far that they're going to try and cast Athena as similar in appearance to Annabeth/Leah. The show has already painted Athena has antagonistic and uncaring towards her daughter. If projected trends continue, these things are not gonna be great.

And the show does seem to rarely want to engage with these topics - like the scene with the cop in the train. You can tell what they wanted to address by having Annabeth be the one to confront him. The thing is they were too cowardly to actually have that conversation! They paint the kids as being unreasonable and getting unnecessarily upset when they aren't directly being accused of destroying a room, therein painting the cop as the one in the right in that situation. The implication seems to be a little bit they were going for "Oh, this is Annabeth's hubris getting them into trouble" but. that's such a bad way to do it! That's like the worst way you could have done it! (This is also a trend in books from HoO onwards, more or less - Rick tries to engage with certain topics, often using characters of specific demographics, and then proceeds to do a really bad job of it.)

There are also some aspects that are just like - in the books, Luke being a middle-class blond-haired blue-eyed pretty white boy is relevant! Because the fact that he has privilege from that particularly in how he's perceived is part of how he came to where he is and why he acts the way he does. Percy not having those same privileges, and having aspects like constantly inherently being labeled as a trouble-maker just based on his atypical (neurodivergent) behavior and coming from a lower socioeconomical background play heavily into his character!!! Percy being both a poor and disabled kid (and implied potentially POC) plays DIRECTLY into why he feels so strongly about standing up for other disenfranchised kids (in SoM, explicitly including other disabled kids and kids of color). It directly relates to his experiences and standing up for kids who are like him because he didn't have that, versus Luke whose perceptions and goals are very self-oriented. Now, in the show, we've essentially swapped Percy and Luke's appearances, and that paints a very different narrative. And that's important to acknowledge!

[draconicfool]

Slices of Life Before the Furnace: The Legacy You Leave Behind

I originally wanted to write this out sort of like a quest plot but I've decided instead to just run you through it with some dialogue prompts and things here and there to really kinda set the tone cuz I've not been able to stop thinking about this. I'll be writing his plot relevance later and try to tie in each bit to specific quests and lore, but for right now we're starting with his companion mission!

So for a small refresher course, Eros' methods of healing outside of terrahymn is related to botany and the application of various plants and herbs. Jarilo-VI is, of course, very lacking in that department due to the cold. I have mentioned here, that after Jarilo-VI opens, Eros starts keeping plants from other worlds as well.

After the plot has settled and things are beginning to progress, Eros' quest involves a few things that pave the way for more things [insightful words from rat, I know]. Easily put, Eros asks for help from the Trailblazer to procure some of these harder to find herbs native to Jarilo-VI that can only be found above ground. He knows of them because of Alexi's journals, which I mentioned extensively in my post on his 'Jolted Awake from a Winter's Dream' plot relevance. The quest would involve a bit of going between the Underworld to the Museum and to the Snow Plains and various other places to find these different plants. The formula being you would read about the plant, go find the painting in the Overworld that would give you the location, rinse and repeat.

This would change with the final plant, however, one that grows above ground but was said to be able to thrive just as well underground. For this one Eros will accompany you for more than just finding the plant because that painting is in the clinic and would have been able to be seen and interacted with prior to even just the quest.

Throughout the entire quest as well, you would be reading journal entries written by Alexi on these different herbs that he used to tend to before he came to live in the Underworld with Lorelai and how he knew where to find them and how he painted them before, which is, y'know, how you get the hints through the paintings. However, the final journal entry would be different because this is the final one on these plants before it gets into more ecological studies and what not [which get used during Jolted Awake from a Winter's dream]. In this final journal entry he stops talking about the plants as much and begins talking instead about Amatus. That there are things like this he wishes one day he could show him and that he wants the world to be a beautiful and accepting place for him. The journal, instead of detailing the plant the way the other's have, details Amatus. How he's growing and how he's been adapting to the cold and how rambunctious and chaotic he can be. How cute he is and how much Alexi simply adores him.

This of course prompts choices in dialogue that more or less round back to the same thing. Who is Amatus Bahre? The way that Eros would answer would ultimately come down to which choice was picked, but it would be the first real dig into those walls that Eros keeps up around himself. There would be a long pause. And a need to re-prompt dialogue before finally he responds. "Amatus Bahre was th' doctor's only child. Y'c'n tell by readin', 'm sure-...but he was everythin' t' him." And it's important to note that up to this point, Eros has not referred to Alexi by name when giving you the journals. He has not told you these journals were written by his father despite any other time how willing and excited he is to tell you about his Daddy. It's something that has to be connected. Bahre is the name on the clinic, after all. Eros has said it enough times before now for it to be known. So when he says this, when he says he was the doctor's only child, it prompts another question. You can ask Eros if he is Amatus Bahre. Or you can ask him if the doctor who wrote the journals is Alexi. And Eros will not answer either question. He will change the subject and tell you that he knows where to go to find the final herb you're looking for.

The quest will continue as it was, with you finding the plant but this time there's something else, there is also a little stone figure carved to look like a dragon. It's the first thing remotely Xianzhou seen in relation to Eros and the bottom is signed 'A.B'. Eros mentions it must have been the doctor's, but he seems almost lost by it. He's never seen it before, after all. But he'll take it and the plant and ask you to meet him back at the clinic.

When you return to the Clinic Eros will be standing over one of the tables looking at the plant, the carving, and another journal. Upon approaching him, the dialogue prompted is only '...' as Eros is clearly not ready to talk. Upon reading through the journal, there are several things that become apparent quickly. This Amatus Bahre is not from Jarilo-VI, nor is he a human. The journal is basically Alexi detailing the sort of things that he had to go through raising this unknown creature where nobody knew what it was or where it came from. But the second he laid eyes on the boy, he knew that he would love him for his entire life as his own flesh and blood. That no matter what this boy, Amatus, would be his entire world. And that he would even put his attempts at research in the Underworld to the side so that he could focus wholly on raising his son. That no matter what anyone said or asked, Amatus was his boy. His everything. That he would give anything and everything if it meant making sure that he got to live a long and fruitful life doing what he loved. Being somebody he could be proud to be.

After reading this journal, Eros will be able to prompt a conversation. And he'll begin to actually let that mask peel back as he starts to speak: "When I was real li'l, m'Daddy would tell me all these stories, y'know? About how beautiful th' Overworld was. How people used t' help each other, whether they were from the Underworld or th' Overworld. That we weren't always separated like we were. He'd say t' me...that one day he wanted me t' get t' experience that."

And it's here that it's noted that Eros is crying, shown by the dialogue prompt: (I think he's started crying...) (If I point it out he might not talk about these things again)

Eros will remain quiet a moment. And then there's an exchange. "Y'must think 'm very silly, cryin' over some plants and a book th' doctor left behind." > I don't think that at all. That journal was pretty heavy stuff. "Yeah, guess I shouldn't have gone snoopin'. Y'look like y'have a question f'er me, sugar. 'm not gonna bite y'er head of f'er it." > The doctor. He was Alexi Bahre, right? "...I was hopin' that wasn't the question." He laughs through this, though, a nervous laugh, but a laugh. "I guess I c'n't really hold anythin' from ya f'er too long. Th' doctor was indeed Alexi Bahre, one of th' most brilliant minds in Belobog." > But he wasn't just that. "...no, no he wasn't. He was...he was also m'father. Raised me from th'second I came int' th' world. Until he couldn't anymore." > So you're Amatus Bahre? "I- s'ppose I was. I didn't...I don't think he deserves t' have his legacy soiled by someone like me, though..." > Someone like you? "Someone who ain't from here at all...y'know?" > From the looks of it that didn't matter > It seems like he loved you a lot.

And then there is silence for a moment. And then the scene transitions so that Eros is no longer in the clinic. Neither is the plant and neither is the journal. Only that carved dragon remains. After this, the quest prompt is 'follow Eros out to the garden.' Heading into the backyard of the clinic, a cutscene will trigger.

Eros approaches the fake tree in the backyard, setting the newly potted plant down beside the pile of clearly disturbed rocks. It should be noted that the rocks are not disturbed in the way a dig site would be. But as if the earth itself moved and then moved again. He stays crouched by this spot beneath the tree and he holds onto the journal before he sets that, too, on the spot where the earth has been moved. For a moment, there's only the soundtrack of the scene, low and languid violin music.

This entire quest, Eros has been talking about preserving the legacy of the doctor. That somebody as bright and brilliant deserves to be remembered. It is something he reiterates time and time again as you go looking for these plants. There are people in the museum who even make mention of the artist behind the paintings and how its 'a shame they're all that's left of him.'

Eros has been obsessing over this the entirety of your time together within the mission. That is, after all, why he asked for your help.

And yet, as he crouches beneath the fake tree in the backyard of the clinic in Boulder Town, he's quiet. He isn't fretting over everything that needs to be found or research or what there is that needs to be done. He just sits there, staring at the earth and then looking up at the fake tree and then the ceiling of the Underworld. And you notice that he's crying. And that his horns and his tail have come on display. And he whispers: "I know now, Daddy...I was th'legacy y'were leavin' all along."

[aroaessidhe]

2023 reads / storygraph

Natural Outlaws and Fractured Sovereignty

NA darkish fantasy

A thief and her friend who steal from the rich to save her dying father are caught, and offered a deal by the Governor for her father’s life and their freedom, if they travel to another country to steal from the royal treasury

she has to impersonate a noble lady and compete to become the arrogant king’s new spouse, staying in the competition long enough to figure out a way to pull off their heist, with her friends as undercover servants and the Governor’s assassin watching over her as a handmaiden

Aro bi MC & he/they nonbinary MC who become a QPR, lesbian and ace trans man SCs

[wabblebees]

BEE the people demand to know. how was ur audition

DUDE i just got notified im called back!!! for tomorrow morning!!!!! im SO fucking excited omfg,,, and like. Even More Nervous ghdjsk

i dont think i did *terrible* or anything but i def walked out of the room afterwards just... Not Feeling It lmao, but it was still so so much fun -- gOddddd i fucking missed musicals+singing WITH PEOPLE. i even got to use my low range and sing with the tenors😌💕 ((whiiiiich. turned out to be the part with the most fuckery lmao, so i hope i didnt embarrass myself too badly as the... perpetually loudest mf in the room lmao))

the movement call was the part i was most nervous abt for tonight ((since i am patently Not a dancer)) and ngl it was. Rough. bc we'd been standing around for hours doing music and my knees were NOT pleased with me even wearing my braces

but!! callbacks tomorrow are doing solo singing, which i feel much more confident about, and!!!!! i got called back for the part im hoping for AND two parts i was *totally* not expecting!!!!! so im definitely okay with how it went:)<3

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Realizations

Dad!Simon Ghost Riley x Wife!Reader

Thank you guys so much for 1k, it means the whole world for me because now once did I expect to ever have my page grown this big and not once had I imagined that I would make these many friends here who happened to be so sweet. Also to @connorsui who has been most definitely been waiting the answer to this.

So in honor of 1k, I wrote this long awaited backstory for Ghost and Lovie (Ghostie's parents) that I hope you guys will enjoy since it so happens that our beloved @ave661 has posted another Dad!Ghost render. (Credits to her again for the renders in this post <3) (Sweetie, I love you but that tag on Soap with this render was unnecessary 😭🫶)

To the people who congratulated me, through replies, likes and reblogs, I owe y'all a fat kiss. Mwahhh <333

My CoD Masterlist

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @cutenote @connorsui @capuccino192 @thesnowurzikdjinn @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @trepaika @starryylies @demidemon09

Warnings/Disclaimers: Stalking (not by Simon), Typical mentions of CoD violence?, Mentions of Simon's past abuse, Creepy guy?? (Not Simon), Mentions of violent and a bit gory descriptions on what wanted to do to the stalker, This is not proofread yet.

With the words of my mother and in true reputation style, Are you ready for it?

I think I need to say this on my account again, English is NOT my first language and all copyrights regarding the plot and some characters within the storyline belong to me. Edit: please help me y'all, I'm losing so much relevance in the span of less than a month, my recent works have gotten nothing and I'm scared that this post proves that. I think I've learned my lesson never to take breaks ever again 😭

Simon never imagined himself in this predicament, always thinking that he'd be out there somewhere, more likely drowning himself in a mission. Not even a home, he thought that if it hadn't for your persuasiveness to interact with him back then then he'd still be back in that shitty apartment complex.

Simon placed his duffle bag on the wood of the porch, the jingling of his keys while he looked for the correct one. He tried his best to make as little noise as possible, it was passed midnight, the last thing he would want was to disturb his wife and daughter from resting.

Hauling the duffle bag in and throwing it on the couch, Simon opt to see what his girls were up to. The giggling and commotion making him smile, you both were supposed to be asleep by now but you were unable to put her to rest because she's just too hyper, so that left you to entertain her by tossing her up and catching her.

"Dada..!" A squeal from the room came, the little one snapping her head to the opening of the door making you look as well, Simon took a peek from the half-way opened door.

Adorable little thing clapping her hands together, pleased that her dad is home while sitting on her mom. She got off, crawling near the edge of the bed with no sense of danger, fortunate for her that her dad is quick with catching her before you could.

You took a deep breath from the shock, looking at your husband and smiling sweetly at him. He asked you not to get off the bed as you were about to, laying next to you he snakes his arm underneath you on your waist and pulls you in.

"I missed my girls.." He said, voice deep and laced with exhaustion, despite that his hold and gaze was the warmest it could be.

"We missed you too Si, so much." You mumbled as your eyes flutter shut to enjoy his touch. You opened them to the sound of a kiss, he kissed the little one's forehead then yours.

Sometimes you vaguely remember the first time he and you met, how it even came to be, this life of domesticity. You, him and your little girl, family is a heavy word for Simon but it was just perfect. This was the family he wanted, the family that he thought he didn't deserve and never would have.

The feeling of coming home to all this started because you were so forgetful, who knew that would be the skill that brought you to him..?

• ──── ✦ ──── •

He emptied his pockets, to the lieutenant's dismay, the box of cigarettes only had one stick left. Since he was going out to smoke it anyway, he might as well get another box from the convenience store nearby. He took his keys from the kitchen counter and headed out, hearing a little commotion that peeked his interest.

Simon never paid much mind to whatever was going on within his apartment building despite the many gossips that were present within the building and the renters. So it happens that the old lady next to his place mentions how they'll be a new tenant in the other apartment next to his.

'Thank God' Simon thought, not that he was particularly religious but he'd been hoping for the longest time for the former renter to leave because let's be honest, who wants to live next to a frat boy with no sense of shame or consideration given that walls are thin? Little did he know he'd be blessed with the next one..

"Oh- I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to.." Simon hears a voice from a little below him, he'd only register what had happened after the fact. Poor girl carrying this box bumped into him a little too hard, so much so that she stumbled back a bit.

You stared up to the 6'4 man blinking, he only shrugged it off to which you smiled to. You tried to make small talk since you were new and it wouldn't hurt to at least know one person right? After all, you were trying to step out a bit of your comfort zone.

"Hi.. I'm [Name].." He only stared at you for a while and replied, "Simon.." you gave him a warm smile before nodding and continuing to bring the boxes into your new apartment while your new neighbor entered the elevator.

You cut the boxes open to start unpacking, a few minutes in and you decided to go on a short break, you rummaged through the small box of food only to find that the recently bought box of tea was empty. You sighed at this, humming as you remembered the convenience store you passed by earlier on the way to the apartment.

Taking your keys and locking the door behind you, you made your way out the complex and walked a few blocks, you only started to notice how late it was with the streetlights coming on even though the sun is only about to set. That's something to get used to, hmm?

The cool breeze hits your skin as you enter, scent of faint instant coffee and many other kinds of foods and products made themselves known. You walked around for a while, checking on what other things you might need but then you tried to remind yourself that you were saving up and on a budget so you took a box of tea and walked up to the register.

You heard footsteps behind you falling in line, after placing the box on the counter, you searched your pockets for your wallet.

'Shit..!' you cursed yourself out mentally trying not to panic as Simon basically watches you frantically patting your pockets, you left your wallet back at the apartment. "You left your wallet-" Simon stated the obvious, "I'll cover it.." there wasn't even a time to argue with him, he just stepped next to you and placed the pack of cigarettes.

"I'll pay you back as soon as we get back to the apartment" You insisted to which Simon only shrugged and declined, it's just a box of tea and it's not like it'll make him go bankrupt, besides he liked your taste, the one you got happened to be his favorite brand.

Since you were headed in the same place anyway, you and Simon walked back together side by side, however one thing you did find odd was when he gently took you wrist and pulled you inward next to him, he was the one now closest to the road.

The walk back was silent, a comfortable silence. A few days after that encounter, you made sure to make an effort for him to know that you appreciated his gesture back at the convenience store. The lieutenant was alarmed by the knock on his door, opening it to find no person but a tupperware filled with buttery shortbread cookies.

He smiled at how tiny the plastic container looked in his hands, how he noticed the note attached "Thanks for the tea, this isn't that special but I hope you like it -[Name]" and the Sanrio themed stickers stuck onto the lid and on the top part of the tiny note. You ran out of sticky notes..

Simon found himself snacking on those cookies later on, oddly enough, they reminded him of his mom.. how she used to love baking back then, it was her way of escape whenever Simon's "father" wasn't home, as well as gardening.

For the first time in a while Simon "Ghost" Riley let out a smile that wasn't smug or a smirk but a genuine smile, one that had warmth to it, one that no matter how hard his mind tried to surppress it, his body refused to.

It didn't take long for you and Simon to get to know each other a bit, little by little it seemed like you two were becoming like friends rather than just neighbors. Let's be honest, who just randomly gives their neighbors weekly baked goods for the sole reason of "just because they wanted to"?

You found yourself always looking forward to the Friday nights chilling with him at the rooftop, mugs with hot tea on hand while he smoked and you read.

Listening to his stupid jokes and remarks that slowly turn into deep conversations and life things. Simon was just... far more open than he's ever been, sure he's talked about his day before to his comrades but never like this, not in a way where he's pouring his heart out, letting you in on how he feels about certain things.

He just got back from a mission, a rough one to be exact. Shoulders slumped from exhaustion as he walked the streets near the apartment complex, no space for his bike so he had to leave it somewhere private while he fidgeted with it's keys.

Simon swore that he almost jumped out of his own body, first instinct being to push you off but he recognized you. He gave you a questioning look, hands were shaking as you so desperately linked you arm around his.

"Hmm?" He hummed, hearing you mumbling something but it was incoherent to his ears.

"Behind us.. please Si, help..." Come to think if it, you never knew when Simon turned into Si. Best believe he knew and still remembers when perfectly.. not the time, there's a serious threat, he didn't look. He didn't need to, guessing by the heavy footsteps, some creep decided to follow you at this hour.

He slowly slipped his arm away from your grip and snaked it around your waist, pulling you in closer to his side while the two of you continued treading closer to the complex. You closed your eyes for a few seconds at a time hoping it would end.

• ──── ✦ A few days later ✦ ──── •

Knocking, frantic knocking was what Simon heard at his door. He wasn't expecting anyone, so why the sudden visit? He opened the door and saw you, Simon knew something was off from the look on your face, you looked pale as if you were sick to your stomach while trying so desperately to catch your breath.

"Can I please come in.. Simon..?" You asked in between breaths. You looked around you, especially behind you, body shivering a bit. He took notice of this and had no hesitation, he pulled you in by your arm. His grip firm but gentle, Simon closed the door behind him.

"Remember that guy who was creeping around when I asked for your help..?" You tried to explain but Simon already knew the moment your mouth opened. You had a stalker.. it was best to call the cops on shit like this.

Simon did his best even though not knowing much about how to comfort someone, he did well in making you feel safe without having to tell you that he'll do so, you just know it in your gut that he'd protect you even if it's just now.

Your breath picked up, slowly backing away from the door as you heard footsteps, clenching your fists and hoping that he didn't see you enter Simon's door. Simon wrapped his arms around you, keeping you in place and from further backing away from the door.

You felt his palm drag up and down your back, it was extremely warm, it stopped for a while. His arm wrapped around your waist, other hand in your hair pushing your head down a bit so it was buried in his chest while you gripped his shirt. Simon felt your trembling body against him slowly relax.

"Deep breaths, angel.." The nickname he whispered would've made you smile under any other circumstance but not right now, you needed to calm your nerves before you panic and make an impulsive decision that could hurt yourself. Like instructed, you followed along Simon's demonstration, pressing his forehead onto yours maybe just a bit too intimately.

You winced at the loud sound of banging on the door, you knew it too well. Simon shoved the handle of his combat knife in your hand, he told you that if anything were to happen, protect yourself with it.

As soon as the Lieutenant swung the door open, you could hear punches, things knocking over and among other things, your stalker's voice.

You'd never forget that, how pitchy it was. Nails on the chalkboard was the best way to describe it, how the man was cackling almost made you annoyed. Simon called on security and the man was dealt with, you came out from hiding and saw both fear and anger in Simon's eyes.

You would never know how much he wanted to tear that man's heart after skinning him alive for even bringing fear into your eyes.

Simon "I care too much for someone I just met" Riley finally saw how his knuckles and fingernails were caked with blood, went off to go wash it and himself.

Getting back to you after half an hour, you reached out for him only for him to withdraw, you looked at him confused and he looks at you with pure guilt..

Your eyes widened in realization, "Oh Simon.. I'm not scared.." you smiled at him. He reached out a shaky hand to you, hesitating before closing his hand back.

You took his hand in yours, bringing it up to your lips and giving it a small kiss, hoping it calms his nerves. Well it did the opposite, it even more overwhelming for him having you kiss his palm while you look up at him, watching you nudge your face into his palm so invitingly.

The way your lashes just sat perfectly atop your cheeks while you slowly blinked up at him. Pressing the same scarred and calloused hands that almost killed a man that night on your face and rubbing the back with you thumb.

Simon had never felt that much guilt before for hurting someone, only after he saw the look in your eyes, which in turn were not something he caused. For the first time in his life too, Simon was comforted by something or rather someone immensely..

[bone-and-butterflies]

How to hide plot twists from both your readers and your characters in a way that is not frustrating or annoying.

So I was watching a book review for a book that I liked but both loved and hated some of the plot twists. Of course this got me thinking about plot twists and why they work for both readers and the characters that are falling for these plot twists.

Readers

The key is to control the information that your readers have. Your readers aren't going to consider an option unless (1) that twist is really common for your genre and that reader has read that genre a lot and will therefore be expecting it or (2) you have very obviously given them the specific information nessesary to unintentionally figure out the twist before the characters.

Why does this information stand out, you may be wondering. It is because there is nothing else going on to distract away from a piece of information that can seem meaningless with the right context.

Most of the time, if you're not writing a very specific plot line with a very specific genre, your reader isn't going to immediately know where the plot is going so they may not be looking out for the information relevant to a later plot twist, so as long as you justify an informational choice that explains a later plot twist in a way that covers a variety of basis, they're probably not going to pick up on the one piece you left out, aka what is going to make this twist fun.

This piece of information should be something small and unassuming. It can be magical, but if you're writing fantasy that magic has to be hidden really really well. I find that a plot twist works the best when the piece of information that is missing is something you wouldn't really think about, like the reason a prince was able to infiltrate a prison and hide his identity was because he had his cousin standing in for him and we don't know that this cousin existed and knew the limits of that world's magic (this is actually a plot twist that fooled me btw despite how obvious at sounds now).

A good plot twist that fools the reader relies on twisting the information that the reader has and therefore twisting how they think the story will go.

Midway sidenote: not every plot twist needs to exist to fool both the reader and the character, sometimes it is really fun to watch a character fail because of something inherent to that character.

Characters

Remember how I said sometimes it's really fun to watch a character fail. That only works sometimes.

It is more annoying to figure out a plot twist that is really obvious and then have the character miss it because the author said so.

So how does a writer pull this off?

Be intentional. Have an idea in mind of when you want the reader to figure it out and ask your beta readers when they figured out your plot twists to control that as much as you can.

Your character does not know which genre they're in, so you have to both get inside the character's head and take the reader along with you so they understand why this character is making these poor choices and missing the most obvious villain in the room.

Why would a character miss a plot twist?

They are distracted or delusional. Characters have goals and they may ignore their better judgments to achieve these goals based on their personality. Put more emphasis on your character's motives to hide information that may make plot twists more obvious. Also, your characters may use information about their world to explain their motives and this information may also be vital to understanding a later plot twist

The average person does not go around thinking everybody around them is out to get them especially if those people seem incapable of that through the pov character's ego or the other character's demeanor. If your character has known somebody for a really long time or knows a piece of information that is vital to the worldview they're probably not going to immediately discard it. Fun fact: in the real world, when people have their views disputed, even with very good evidence, it can make them more likely to hold on to that old belief.

Expectation of harm. Different characters have different experiences with shape how bad they think things can get. For example, if a character has never experienced something, they may not know what can lead to that thing. (FYI older characters are more likely to know more things so be careful with this one.)

The Twist

For a twist to work, it must make sense with both real world and in world knowledge as well as common sense, so keep this in mind as you plan.

Conclusion

This isn't comprehensive because good plot twists require a lot of information to make them work and that's makes them very specific. While I would love to explain why different plot twists work, part of them working is them fooling you and hindsight bias is kind of a thing.

Keep writing. If a plot twist just isn't working either scrap it or let it sit until you have the information to build reasons why it should work.

[mothmans-side-ho]

Armand called Lestat a clown in the most round about way

s2e3 hot wired the two passions in my brain into this info dump, however seeing as a central theme of this episode (and the season) is power, status, and their subversions, it seems relevant. for context, I have 2 degrees in theatre, specifically theatre history and how trends effect form. (I am in no way an expert though, and this is very simplified). long story short, I'm relishing in being a big ol nerd about this entire season

FINALLY, we got to see Lestat (a version of) strutting his stuff on stage in a scene with peak commedia dell'arte shenanigans. Commedia dell'arte is/was an originally Italian form of theatre which was defined by lazzi (comedic bits), improv, and stock characters. these stock characters have been around from Roman times and are still super familiar to us today - the young lovers, the pervy old rich man, the soldier with bravado, etc. It's been seen as a somewhat formulaic form of theatre which relied on quickly identifiable characters and situations so audiences can sit back and enjoy the butt jokes and servant beatings.

In the book - specifically The Vampire Lestat - our beloved Lestat RELISHES in playing a character called Lelio, one of the young lovers. It is in playing Lelio that he "found a tongue for verses and wit [he]'d never had in life" (TVL pg 31). It is in playing Lelio that Lestat first gets a taste of the person he can become, and it is in Lelio that we see the first glimpses of the Lestat which so fully seduces Louis. In short, Lestat casts himself as the suave and handsome romantic protagonist, here to sweep people off their feet. The young lovers are also notably some of the only roles portrayed without masks, to emphasize their youth and natural beauty.

SO IMAGINE MY SURPRISE WHEN LESTAT SHOWS UP IN S2E3 DRESSED LIKE THIS:

He has a half mask! He's wearing all sorts of colors! He's clearly acting as a go between between two other characters who seem to be of a higher status than him! As I said before, commedia dell'arte can be very formulaic (especially by the late 1700s when it is being codified away from being improv focused to being cemented into scripts). From all of these visual and characterization clues, Lestat is not playing Lelio the young lover, he's playing a Harlequin! And his costume seems to be heavily based off of this Harlequin (Arlecchino, Arlecino, etc.) which is literally the wikipedia image of a Harlequin.

(note, if you give a fuck, this image is depicting an Arlechino from 1671, roughly 125 years before Lestat on stage. in my mind, this accounts for the changes in silhouette, styling, why Lestat doesn't wear the mask for the entirety of the performance, etc. Also, just while we're talking about costuming, I believe the late 18th Century was still a time in which actors would have been expected to provide their own costumes, which would explain why Lestat's version is made with expensive fabrics and includes cunty little details like the bow in his hair. At the very least, I can see him making looking good a priority as the owner of the theater and as...well...Lestat.)

Okay, okay, okay. Why does this matter?

Harlequins are not characters of any social status. They're servants who are quick witted enough to get into antics but stupid enough to be commanded by animalistic instincts (lust, food, you name it). The Harlequin being beaten by their master was ENORMOUSLY funny, and is the origin of the term "slapstick comedy". They a memorable iteration of clown.

In this scene, which I'm willing to bet was inspired by (if not outright) Carlo Goldoni's A Servant of Two Masters, Lestat plays a servant who interacts with two characters. One appears to be a young woman in a breeches part - another common trope of commedia performance. The other appears to be the young male lover! We see Lestat prancing between the two, seemingly facilitating some romance plot, being paid for his compliance, and doing a good ol fashioned butt lazzi. (Could he be presenting his ass for beating? Maybe.)

So why is Lestat not the young valiant lover, but instead A LITERAL CLOWN? Three potential, not conflicting, reasons. By the time Lestat is performing (mid to late 1790s, based off Armand's earlier comment about Robespierre's 1794 execution), the Harlequin characters were the most sought after roles! At this time, we are seeing the emergence of "Celebrity Culture" where audiences sought out actors for their off-stage personalities as much as their on-stage ones. This is an extremely fitting position for Lestat to fall into. Yay a semblance of historical accuracy!

Secondly, Lestat's ENTIRE ROLE in season two is to come between this season's new pair of young(ish) lovers: Louis & Armand. Lestat's function is to repeatedly detract and distract from their relationship through Dreamstat's antics (appearing at the piano calling Louis a whore, having Louis re-kill him, etc.). Additionally, simply put, Lestat (and Sam Reid as Lestat) is a lot of fun to watch. He is absolutely a stand out (if not THE stand out) of the show! His constant ability to serve cunt is often what your eye is drawn to, he pulls focus to himself, and often undercuts the more subdued, philosophical, and morose nature of others. Both on-stage and on-screen, Lestat continuously upstages his screen partners. He does kinda function as a Harlequin. But in the end, the Harlequin's antics are also what ultimately drive the young lovers together. If not for Lestat's actions, Louis and Armand would have never met nor bonded over knowing this fucked up brat prince.

But we also have to remember! This portion of the episode is presented by Armand the mind fuckery master. It is absolutely in his best interests to paint Lestat as some sort of ridiculous, lesser being driven by animalistic nature. Especially if - by extension of the metaphor - this frames he and Louis as the virtuous and optimistic young lovers, striving to cling to each other in a world of chaos. I would be EXTREMELY interested to see if, when recollected by someone else, Lestat appears in a different role or characterized differently.

Again, given the celebrity culture of the time and Lestat being himself, it is entirely believable that he would appear in the Harlequin role (Truffaldino, if this is Goldoni's Servant). However, I think it's extremely telling that in Armand's iteration of the story Lestat is not the dignified, refined, and sympathetic young romantic. He is instead a literal fucking clown.

[sideprince]

Eileen Prince

I'm relentlessly curious about how a witch from Slytherin, a house that values cunning and ambition on paper, and bloodlines/nobility in its culture, ended up living in a muggle slum.

Unfortunately for me, she's a barely mentioned character written by an author who consistently fails to portray female characters with depth or dimension. The women in Harry Potter are portrayed as either maternal or villains, or, in Ginny Weasley's case, as redeemed by their masculine traits (because Rowling's Thatcher era feminism dictates that equality for women = emulating patriarchal ideas of manhood). About as much as you can expect from an author who's as unable to acknowledge the personhood of trans women as she is to write women as actual people. This leaves a lot of room for interpreting or delving into what Eileen Prince's life may have looked like, and how that would have affected her son's development.

There are three direct mentions of Eileen in the text :

“The picture showed a skinny girl of around fifteen. She was not pretty; she looked simultaneously cross and sullen, with heavy brows and a long, pallid face. Underneath the photograph was the caption: Eileen Prince, Captain of the Hogwarts Gobstones Team.”

HBP Ch. 25

“I was going through the rest of the old Prophets and there was a tiny announcement about Eileen Prince marrying a man called Tobias Snape, and then later an announcement saying that she’d given birth to a" “ — murderer,” spat Harry.

HBP ch. 30

“Harry looked around: he was on platform nine and three-quarters, and Snape stood beside him, slightly hunched, next to a thin, sallow-faced, sour-looking woman who greatly resembled him.”

DH Ch. 33

(Shoutout to Harry James Potter, who didn't recognize Eileen's fifth year photo despite her resemblance to Snape, the teacher whose classroom he got his used Potions book from. Shoutout also to Harry James Potter who didn't connect the dots between the Prince's handwriting and Snape's, a teacher who regularly wrote instructions on the board. "I needed to make the plot work, ok?" - JK Rowling, probably.)

Other relevant excerpts:

“Snape staggered - his wand flew upwards, away from Harry - and suddenly Harry’s mind was teeming with memories that were not his: a hook-nosed man was shouting at a cowering woman, while a small dark-haired boy cried in a corner ”

OoTP Ch. 26

“Harry delved into his trunk and pulled out his copy of Advanced Potion-Making before getting into bed. There he turned its pages, searching, until he finally found, at the front of the book, the date that it had been published. It was nearly fifty years old.”

HBP Ch. 16

Supplemental material re: Gobstones from JK Rowling:

"...it remains a minority sport within the wizarding world, and does not enjoy a very ‘cool’ reputation, something its devotees tend to resent. Gobstones is most popular among very young wizards and witches, but they generally ‘grow out’ of the game, becoming more interested in Quidditch as they grow older.  ... Gobstones enjoys limited popularity at Hogwarts, ranking low among recreational activities, way behind Quidditch and even Wizarding Chess." [There's an additional sentence on the Harry Potter wiki's Gobstones page: "...it is also known as 'the thinking wizard's Quidditch.'"]

A few conclusions can be drawn from what little information we're given about Eileen:

She's described as "cross and sullen" around the age of 15, and as "sallow-faced, sour-looking" when she's older.

She's captain of the Gobstones club around her fifth year, so she likely marched to the beat of her own drum - given that Gobstones isn't particularly popular - and owns it proudly enough to take, or even seek out, a leadership role.

The sport is described as "the thinking wizard's Quidditch" which would imply Eileen was more interested in intellectual challenges and was clever (and can be paralleled with a young Severus' comment about "if you'd rather be brawny than brainy" to James Potter when they first meet on the Hogwarts Express).

Her marriage and the birth of her son are both announced in the paper, which might mean the family she came from was of some importance or note, or perhaps something else... but we'll get to that.

If we assume that Severus' secondhand copy of Advanced Potion Making was originally Eileen's (reasonable, though there is no textual evidence) then its publication date is likely around the time she was a sixth year, given that this particular text was specific to students beginning to prep for N.E.W.T. exams. Harry begins his sixth year in 1996 when the book is "nearly fifty years old," so we can assume Eileen was 16 years old sometime not long after 1946. Severus was born in 1960, which would mean Eileen was in her mid-late 20s at the time.

Her marriage was dysfunctional at best, abusive at worst. As per a Pottermore post that is still up on WizardingWorld.com: "...the desperately lonely and unhappy childhood [Severus] had with a harsh father who didn’t hold back when it came to the whip." Based on this, we can assume Tobias was abusive, and given Eileen's cowering as he shouted at her, she presumably feared him.

From these bits of information emerges the image of a woman who either had a surly personality, or at the very least was guarded, though perhaps just formal. There isn't really any difference in how her face is set when she's in an everyday setting like King's Cross, or when she's having her picture taken for the Gobstones Club. It's possible she was a stern, unsmiling person, but it's also possible - given that her wedding and child were announced in the paper - that she came from a family of some standing and was raised to conduct herself with hallmarks of British class, such as dignity and unaffectedness. After all, there are several wizarding families - such as the Potters - who are wealthy purebloods with social standing but are not part of the Sacred 28. Additionally, the Gobstones Club portrait would have been taken around the mid-1940s, when portraits were formal and their subjects did not often smile, and given that we see only a snippet of Eileen, we don't have enough information that she was unhappy or sour. It's also important to remember that we see her portrait and Snape's memory of her through Harry's perspective and, like his perception of Snape himself, this may convey Harry's biases.

We also know from the text that Snape had a house in a deserted part of Cokeworth, a fictional Midlands town that presumably had a collapsed milling industry, at the end of a street called Spinner's End. There's a great thread that goes into details about the kind of 2 up 2 down house it would have been, and we can assume that this is Snape's family home given that we know he and Lily grew up in Cokeworth. For all intents and purposes, the conclusion we can draw from this being the Snape family's home in the 60s is that they were working class and cripplingly poor. Most estates like this had been cleared by the 60s, and no longer exist today.

This begs the question: how did a witch from a possibly well-off family end up in an abusive marriage in an irrelevant slum?

Buckle up kids, we're leaving the world of textual references and veering into deep meta territory now. I won't label any of this as head canon because I'm not set on these interpretations, and am just drawing conclusions from the text, but some of it may be a bit loose even for meta.

If Eileen was 16 years old not long after 1946, then she would have finished school in the late 40s, possibly even 1950. While some people (including past me) posit the theory that Tobias may have been injured in WWII and his injuries debilitated him, forcing him to go on the dole and affecting his mental health, I'm increasingly skeptical of this theory. It would make more sense if Eileen had known him before he was drafted/enlisted and had committed to a relationship with him, which would then have changed when he came back from the war and was altered. If we assume Eileen's age based on the idea that it was her own copy of Advanced Potion Making Severus used, then she would still have been at school during WWII (which makes an interesting parallel with Severus' own experience of spending the bulk of the first wizarding war against Voldemort as a student at school).

I do think, however, that there's merit in the theory that Tobias suffered some kind of altering injury and that he wasn't necessarily abusive before Eileen committed herself to him. It makes little sense for a Slytherin graduate who was confident and self-posessed enough to be the face of an unpopular club to be drawn to a partner so abusive his shouts caused her to cower and who whipped his child freely. If, however, he was a charming, happy man when they met who suffered a life-altering injury, the trauma of which left him a shell of his former self, then someone like Eileen might stick around for the sake of the parts of his old self she can still see in him.

It's interesting that she didn't seem to use her magic to protect herself or her son, or even to dress her son in clothing that fit, but we know from the text that depression can cause a wizard's powers to wane:

“...it is also possible that her unrequited love and the attendant despair sapped her of her powers; that can happen”

HBP Ch. 13 (Dumbledore talking about Merope Gaunt)

The fact that the Snapes retained the house in Spinner's End seems to indicate that they continued to live there even when the local industry dried up and the slum was cleared as workers were moved to other parts of the country where they were needed (presumably what happened given *gestures at British history*). The most likely explanation for this would be that Tobias wasn't able to work, and perhaps did suffer an injury, only it was at work, and not during the war. This would mean the family lived on the dole (ie. welfare) and also that he would have spent a lot more time at home. It would also explain his anger and frustration that led to abusive behavior (which isn't to say that disabled people are abusive by any means, but it would have been emasculating for a man who considered himself the breadwinner in the 60s, and chronic pain coupled with limited abilities would give anyone a short fuse).

Moreover, this living situation seems to indicate that there is no additional support coming from anywhere. Where is Eileen's family? Why were they not helping? There's no indication in the text that there is any connection with them at all. We can infer from Snape's memories that, as a child, he learned what he knew about the magical world from his mother. This implies that she talked to him about it a fair amount, and his conviction that he and Lily were going to Hogwarts well before they got their letters also implies that Eileen expected him to go there and was set on her son having a magical education, despite how little she seemed to use her own powers.

Severus knows a lot about the wizarding world as a child, including that prisoners are sent to Azkaban and that it's guarded by Dementors, Hogwarts' house structure and what to expect when he and Lily get there, and about the Statute of Secrecy and the laws around it. When Lily asks him if it makes a difference being Muggleborn, Severus hesitates before replying no, presumably because he's aware of pureblood bias being a part of wizarding culture.

Perhaps that's the reason Eileen's family doesn't seem to be in the picture. My own theory is that Eileen hadn't planned to commit herself to Tobias long-term, and Severus was an accidental outcome of an innocent tryst in which a young Eileen, an educated witch from a well to do pureblood family, was having fun slumming it with a working class muggle and ended up pregnant. While we don't know the wizarding world's attitude around pregnancy and abortion, we do know it's a conservative and classist society that parallels muggle British culture fairly closely, and that the late 50s/early 60s were a time when an out of wedlock baby would have been considered a disgrace.

Add to that the anti-muggle bias of a pureblood family and it sounds like Eileen was disowned her for her mistake (and don't @ me, but even though I know that not all Slytherins are purebloods, it does seem to be a persistent cultural value of the house reaching back to Salazar Slytherin himself, so Eileen's being sorted into it can reasonably be taken as an indication of her blood status). Perhaps the marriage and birth announcements in the Daily Prophet were put in by Eileen herself, if she was a woman from a family where this was customary. It may have been her way of letting her family know of the events, or even of asserting herself and even deliberately defying them, announcing to the whole wizarding world that a Prince married and had a child with a muggle. It makes sense that the girl who wasn't just in the Gobstones club, but became captain, would also say to herself, why shouldn't I have my marriage announced in the paper like everyone else in the family?

It's worth noting that mid-late 20s is pretty young to have a baby in the wizarding world, where the life expectancy and child bearing years are much longer than they are for a muggle. According to the Harry Potter wiki:

"Wizard life expectancy in Britain reached an average 137¾ years in the mid-1990s, according to the Ministry of Divine Health ... Wizards in general have a much longer life expectancy than Muggles, usually living two or three times as long as their non magical counterparts, some living even longer than that depending on circumstances. In addition, seeing as James Potter's parents had him "late in life,” witches likely have significantly longer childbearing years than Muggle women."

Although we see several characters in Severus' generation getting married and having kids not long after leaving school, there's a mention in the text that a lot of people were doing this during Voldemort's reign, as the fear he inspired made people more eager to get a move on with life since they thought they might die any day (I think Mrs. Weasley says this but I can't find the quote, @ me if you do). It's clear this wasn't the norm in the wizarding world. Eileen was a Slytherin, a house that values cunning, ambition, and strong wizarding heritage. Something must have gone very wrong in Eileen's life for her to end up having a child so young and living in a muggle slum.

And so it's possible Eileen Prince found herself pregnant and alone, having been disowned by her family to save face in light of her disgrace, and dependent on the only person she was still close to, the father of her child. It's the kind of storyline that Rowling would write, and it would parallel fairly closely the story of Voldemort's mother, thus adding another to the long list of similarities between Voldemort and Snape.

Lorrie Kim makes an interesting point when she talks about how Snape has a strong reaction to other people having a love life or romantic experiences (the context being Rowling's intention of his love for Lily being romantic and unrequited), but doesn't react particularly strongly to mothers sacrificing themselves for their children, whereas Voldemort does. Her insight, and I think it's a reasonable one, is that Severus accepts the idea of mothers making sacrifices for their children, whether it's Lily giving her life for Harry or Narcissa risking all she did to ask for his help in protecting Draco, because his own mother protected him from his father as much as she could.

There's a lot of room for interpretation on what Eileen's relationship with her son looked like, and what it says about her own state. She may have prioritized not angering Tobias to protect Severus, who as a child might have perceived her actions as a form of rejection. At the same time, she seems to have prepared him thoroughly for life in the magical world, perhaps in the hope that he would find his place in it and escape home. Perhaps she missed it and told him so much about it so she could live through her own memories.

The only time we see her argue with Tobias, in Severus' memory, she's cowering as he shouts. We know from JK Rowling that Tobias used corporal punishment liberally, which implies Eileen didn't stop him despite her magical abilities. We also see in the text, however, that while at school Severus stood up for himself against bullies and fought back, and that he was an exceptionally clever and powerful wizard. As an adult he was brave enough to face Dumbledore when he betrayed Voldemort, and later fought against Voldemort right under his nose (or lack thereof). So it stands to reason that at some point Severus began to stand up against Tobias too.

How much of that was Eileen's influence, or the result of Severus seeing her acceptance of her fate and rejecting it for himself, is hard to say. As for what happened to Tobias and Eileen that their house was Severus' by the mid-90s and they were nowhere in sight, I don't think there's enough information in the text to infer.

[writers-potion]

Different Genres, Different Fight Scenes.

Romance

No real gore; write entertaining fight scenes with an illusion of reality

Avoid excessive arobatics or feats of unbelievable strength. Stay realistic - describe the weather, how the ground feels.

Add a layer of erotic tension.

Use injuries as opportunities to test the hero and heroine's relationship, for displaying touching and tender care.

Fight scenes in romance tend to be short (<700w)

Where there are several fight scenes: (1) he comes to her rescue - (2) she comes to his rescue (3) together they fight in the final showdown.

Fantasy

Fantasy fight scenes will primarily be enertaining, but have considerable grit.

Since readers needs to retain their suspense of disbelief in dragons, fairies, unicorns, etc. it helps to keep fights realistic.

Heroes will be skilled in using the weapon of their choice, and he climax of the fight will be prolonged, detailed and technically precise.

Science Fiction

Invent a special weapon for your book. To make it plausible, take a real-life weapon and extrapolate.

To make it interesting, the weapon will have a critical flaw or have consequences to the user which will make the plot more interesting.

Thriller

Fight scene in thrillera are very gritty, with real violence and gore. There will be several injuries and death.

However, the hero will also show off his skill in prolonged fight scenes, making it entertaining.

The suspense section is typically long

The hero will often have advanced level fighting skills.

Horror

As long as the blood is plot relevant, readers will want to see gore and grit.

The suspense and aftermath sections will be long, with unexpected twists that gets the hero behind his back.

Cozy Mystery

Cozy mystery won't have too much fighting involved, but if it does it will be be short.

Focus on how the hero struggles towards the next clue as a result of the fight rather than on the fight itself.

Historical

Fight in historical novels can be anything between entertaining and gritty.

Consider the periodic background, tech level, and relative wealth of your fighters before you give them weapons and armour.

In period where life expectancy was shorter and violence was more commonplace, your heros will be less bothered about seeing death, gory gutting, or having children in battle. Less qualms about killing.

In most periods and societies women didn't fight, and you must come up with a plausible backstory for her.

Literary

Either the fight takes place off stage or it is shown in all its realistic brutality.

Literary fight scenes are gritty and short.

You will choose to focus on the aftermath - play up the tragic, sinful, meaninglessness, etc. of violence for the reader and how it affects your hero's psyche.

Young Adult

YA fight scenes are entertaining, but it can escalate to be very scary.

he plot often revolves around he protagnoist performing implausible feats of fighting, often with exceptional martial arts skills.

Choose whatever martial arts teenagers find "cool" and build up your knowledge about it.

If you like my blog, buy me a coffee☕ and find me on instagram! 📸

[privategurlsblog]

Brat

Not intended for minors. 18+ only!

Warnings: fingering. piv. standards really!

PLOT: a cute follow up to this. can also be read as a standalone 🖤

🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤

You and Alex had been together for six months now. You saw it as a celebration, he didn't even realise.

You crossed your arms and stared up at the stage he was on, guitar at hand, half drunken smile as he looked out towards the few stragglers in attendance tonight. Of course his eyes lingered on you, but you didn't grant him the same satisfaction. You looked away the second his met you.

Instead you kept your eyes driven on the bartender. You knew him from a few years above, one of your friend's brothers. You weren't flirting, of course you weren't. He would never touch you. But that wasn't relevant, you were pleased that to Alex, it might look that way nonetheless.

You wanted him to suffer. Wanted him to realise that you were special. You were a treat in his life. The fact you've even granted him the right to swan around town hand in hand with you is a miracle in itself, even if college is over and no one really cares anymore. But lately it's been all about his band, their stupid gigs and his stupid friends and you're fed up. Since when were you just on the sidelines? Battling with a damned guitar for his attention?

After the show ended, you expected Alex to rush to your side but he didn't. In fact, he sidled up at the end of the bar with a few people hovering around him and he sunk enough pints that even you got fed up of pretending and left instead.

He was meant to come around yours tomorrow anyway, you loved Saturday mornings together basking in the warmth of the sun. Every day was like that for you now but Alex worked, yet he always reserved those mornings for you. The thought of it made you smile, even through your anger.

The next day he turned up to your house with a bunch of flowers and a sorrowful smile, going on about how he'd gotten pissed last night and he was sorry he was late. All you heard was 'blah blah blah' and bullshit excuses. He managed to nuzzle his way into your neck, heart and eventually, your bed, but your anger didn't dissipate.

Over the following few weeks, it increased by a tenfold. The band had managed some studio space, somewhere arse end of Sheffield you'd learnt not from Alex, but from Matthew when you bumped into him at the shop.

"Isn't it great? I reckon we've got a good chance at getting some songs out you know," Matthew said to you as you both browsed the aisles. He went to the beer section and you hovered behind him with a can of coke and a scowl.

"Yeah it's great," you mumbled, half arsed. You picked up a bottle of wine, planning on necking it back later with Matthew's equally as neglected girlfriend while you bitched about them all night long.

As you both checked out, you thought of ways you could get to Alex. How you could hurt him and make him feel as hard done by as you had these past few months. An idea came to your mind and you smiled to yourself, ignoring the weird look you were receiving from the cashier when your pout turned into a malicious grin.

"Oh yeah," you called after Matt and he slowed his steps, glancing back at you curiously, "tell Alex we're finished."

You bounced away with a pep in your step. The consequences of your actions seemed far removed when compared to the thrill you got at Alex panicking. Matt gawped after you, watching you practically skip down the street before rushing to his neighbours house to inform him of your words.

That night Alex rang you and you hit ignore. You were having far too much fun knocking back wine with your friends, dancing on the settees like little girls, screaming the house down to old songs. The scene distracted you from the fact that it was fleeting. Already your heart ached for the man you loved, but you were yet to recognise that yearning.

Eventually, after too much wine, too many cigarettes and enough singing to make your voice hoarse - you were drunk enough to answer one of his many calls.

"What Alex?" you slurred down the phone, ignoring the giggles of the equally juvenile girls beside you. You didn't realise they were just eager for the drama opposed to advising you the right thing. Perhaps they should've told you that you were acting like a brat - but your doubts about their intentions were drowned out from the alcohol.

"Where are you?" he answered, his voice proving his annoyance. A tone you were used to these days, a hearty reminder that you're nothing more than a nuisance to him, something that stood between him and his success.

"Lucy's. Drinking."

He sighed at your bluntness, "I'll pick you up."

You didn't argue.

The next half hour went by in a blur of giggles and slurs, eventually you heard the knock on the door and your friend informed you that Alex was here. In your drunken state, your anger had temporality evaporated and you were all over him, slinging your arms around his neck and kissing his cheeks, desperate for his attention.

You don't remember much of what was said but you do remember that he kept pushing you off with a gruff tone. But that could all wait until the morning, at least you're snuggled up by his side now, where you've wanted to be all along.

The next morning you wake up with a groan, your eyes battling with the beaming sun intent on torturing you. Your arm comes to rest on your forehead and you wince as you try to sit up only to find your body heavy and hot underneath a blue plaid duvet - Alex's, to be precise.

You look around for him, finding him sat on his desk chair though facing the bed. One leg propped on the bed frame, leant back in the chair with a notepad on his knee with his familiar messy scribbles all over and undetectable from where you were. His long hair was messy around his head, his eyes still heavy lidded with sleepiness and he was shirtless, his skinny figure taut and gleaming in the sunlight. Every muscle in your body ached and yet something sweet rattled through you at the sight of him, momentarily curing you as you offered a smile.

"What am I doing here?" you mumbled with a cracked voice, your throat still burning from the incessant, girlish screams of the night prior. You shifted yourself up, leant on your knees and cupped your throat like that would ease the pain.

Alex looked at you with a placid expression, his eyes giving absolutely nothing away. Immediately you felt the edge of his annoyance, despite his outward appearance, the vibes he was emitting gave you a clear indication of where this would go. Your smile fell.

"Yeah," he drawled, elongating his word, the anger seeping through, "what are you doing here? Thought we were broken up."

You winced. Now that he was here, his undivided attention set on you, your grand plan seemed a little, well....fucking stupid.

"You didn't have to bring me back here," your youth clouded your good intentions. Everything inside of your heart urged you to apologise, but your mind was telling you to remain stubborn, to make him suffer.

You pouted as you climbed out of the covers, finding yourself still in the clothes from the night prior. The only part missing of your outfit being the ridiculous heels you'd shoved your poor feet into. They stung as they hit the scratchy carpet of his bedroom, you refrained from showing how weak you were as you stood.

"Your mum would kill you if you came home plastered like you were," he scoffs, settling his notepad on his desk, only a mere few inches away from the bed.

"Didn't realise you gave a fuck," you sneered in return, searching the floor for your shoes. You found them in the corner, bending over to retrieve them and you smirked to yourself when you felt the heat of his gaze on your arse, still shoved into a tiny leather skirt.

"What's going on with you? You've been so fucking agitated recently," Alex kept his voice low, well aware of his parents only a few doors down. After the mishap of his mother walking in on you two, you both held caution whenever locked away in here.

"Yeah because you don't pay any bloody attention to me," you hissed.

"Are you surprised?" he raises his eyebrows, standing up as you start to claw your hair back into a ponytail. You probably looked horrendous. At least he'd seen you like this before.

"Why would I give you the time of day when you're just moody all the time? Can't get a bloody worthy conversation out of you," he rolled his eyes and you pouted even further.

"Well luckily it won't be your problem anymore," you held your head high despite the fear soaring around your body that he might just agree. Might just be fed up with your antics.

"Don't be ridiculous Y/N. We're not breaking up."

You stalled, your hair falling back onto your shoulders. The hair-tie had snapped at that exact moment, as if it was emphasising his words, making them a bigger deal than they were.

"Says who?"

"Says me," he grabbed your hand, even through his anger, he needed to feel you under his fingertips. Obsessed with your body he was, and his eager hands ran down the sides of it now, even with the frown still on his brow.

"Don't I get a say?"

"Not when you're being a brat," his sharp tongue whips your skin but you don't mind. You revel in the sound of him caring, reacting, like you've been wishing for all these weeks.

You swing your arms around his neck, too aware of the wine lingering on your breath to kiss him even if his wide eyes keep flickering to your lips nonetheless.

"But you love me."

He rolls his eyes, his grip on you tightening. Your body is pressed to his and you're still in that slutty outfit, it's natural for him to respond as he is, with his cock stiffening against your thigh and his hands unable to help but grope you.

"You know that. Do you always have to find ways to prove it?" his voice is now softer, tainted with the insecurity of your relationship failing. He rarely takes you seriously with all your moods giving him whiplash. Today, though, your reassurance matters to him.

"You forgot our six month anniversary," your voice contained a trace of disappointment that made his skin crawl. He hated letting you down, "and you would rather grind against a guitar all day than me."

Alex can't help but laugh, his face lighting up. The insides of you turn to mush and you near melt in his arms at the sound of his melody of happiness.

"People don't celebrate six months anniversaries," he counters, leaning in to kiss you but you pull back, nearly toppling over if it wasn't for the strength of his fingertips pressing into your waist, "and I love grinding on you. Far more than anything else."

You raise your eyebrows, the pout on your lips still prominent. You can feel Alex against your thigh, you can see the heat simmering beneath his gaze and you wonder briefly if this is all just to bed you.

"I'm not shagging you," you blurt out, "until you prove that you love me for more than that."

Alex refrains a whine, he knows you have a hard time portraying your feelings. He doesn't want to give you more the reason to run, when you've already tried to, albeit for the wrong reasons but still. One day you actually might and he just can't have that.

"Okay."

"Okay?" you scoff, suddenly releasing him. The lack of weight against him makes him stumble back, a little disorientated as he grips the edge of the desk and gets sent to hell from your gaze, "so you don't even wanna fuck me?"

His heart raced with annoyance, his body tensed and his fingers twitched to hold his temple like he was a forty year old divorcee with a difficult ex wife. It felt like that sometimes.

"I'm rock hard," he gestured to his crotch, the outline of it perfectly visible through those infamous plaid PJ bottoms, "of course I wanna fuck you."

"Okay," you grinned, eyes like saucers at the sight of his arousal, "well I need a shower. A toothbrush. And I'm hungry. And I'm gagging for a drink. A tea. You know the sugar helps my hangovers."

You waffled on and Alex's smile grew with every word.

"Go home. Shower. Brush your teeth. I'll take you out for breakfast."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah babe," he captured you once more, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger, looking at it intently, "all yours. All day. I promise."

You believed him.

Maybe you shouldn't have. After you have breakfast and decide to go on a cute forest walk with a joint and dreams of getting dirty in more ways than one - Alex's phone incessantly buzzes.

You glance to it halfway through a story about the night prior. You're bitching, he's listening. He always does even if sometimes you notice him looking vacant, you never take it personally, that's just how Alex is.

"Who is it?" you wonder when he ends the call again.

"Just Matt," he shrugs it off, but your curious eyes don't stray from him and grow more annoyed the more he avoids them, and so eventually he sighs and lays back into the green.

"I can't help it love," he groans, "the boys are really serious about this band thing."

"I know that but you've been practicing every day Al," the hurt is evident in your tone and you hate how beared your vulnerability is, but you know it's the only way he'll listen to you. He brushes off your brattiness but he never disregards your feelings, at least not since the beginning.

"Yeah, we need to," he says, leaving you unsatisfied.

"Well maybe I was right then," you huff and stand and Alex follows you like a lost puppy, "maybe we should break up."

"I can divide the time," he promises, pulling you back towards him. You're always trying to run and he always catches you and you love him for it. You dread the day he doesn't chase you, little faith in the hope it'll never come.

Alex takes you back to his, you always end up boxed in his little room. His parents had smiled at the sight of you, enamoured by the sight of their son in love.

"You know you could always come and watch," Alex traces the curve of your nose, your features fascinating to him. Your lips are swollen and your cheeks are red, the lingering effects of having him between your thighs earlier, you look beautiful and he looks in awe of it.

"But I'll put you off," you tease, "how could you possibly focus on anything when I'm there?"

"It'll be hard," he indulges you, kissing the tip of your nose, "but I'll manage. I want you there."

The next day you find yourself sat in Jamie's garage, your legs tucked under you and a can of coke at hand as you watch them fiddle with their instruments. You'd coaxed Matt's girlfriend along so you weren't the only one here, and the boys seemed eager to please the both of you.

While they played, you kept your eyes driven to Alex's fingers. You don't know what was coming over you, whether it was because you knew what they could do, or he just moved them so perfectly over the strings that it took your mind to places it shouldn't. Either way your cheeks were heating and you were beginning to squirm.

When Alex caught your eye, he knew exactly what was going through your mind. He sang with a slight smirk, only seconds prior he wouldn't even dare look up and now he was mocking you, inspired by your obvious discomfort.

"What did you think?" Matt grinned at you both, unaware of how uncomfortable you were as you squeezed your thighs together and tried to pry your eyes away from Alex.

Who wasn't making it easy, choosing that moment to take his hoodie off, revealing a slither of his ivory skin as it lifted his shirt slightly. The conversation fizzled out in your ears like you were dunked in a pool of lust.

You crashed into the car twenty minutes later. It had been torturous, a complete blur to your wound tight like a spring body.

Alex grabbed your neck, angling himself over the mechanics in the middle, not caring for how the clutch was digging into his ribs and equally you didn't care that his nails dug into your neck as he held onto you so tightly.

His lips slid against yours with a fervour you couldn't match, you moaned into his mouth and ran your hands through his hair. His grip around your neck made you struggle to breathe but you didn't care for breath when he was breathing life into you with his kiss.

"You're so fucking fit," he says, biting your bottom lip soon after and you giggle, of course you do. You're smitten with him, he's obsessed with you.

"I want your fingers Al," you move your mouth past his cheek and next to his ear, your tongue swiping around it in a languid lick that makes him shiver.

His hand finds its place between your thighs, finding them sticky on the insides. Your panties are damp and make his breath hitch against your mouth as he presses his fingers onto you.

You gasp and he swallows it, practically laid on the mechanics now. He fumbles with the lace, pulling it to the side and licks inside your mouth as his fingers plunge into you. Your hips lift as a strangled moan leaves your throat, the heel of his hand presses against your clit, pushing you back down into the seat.

His fingers are tired from the guitar but he finds the strength to fuck you with them nonetheless, stroking the spongy spot that makes you see stars. Your hand lifts to hold the handle above your head, your neck elongating as you whine and attempt to thrash only for him to ground you again, rubbing your sensitive area.

You fall apart in a matter of minutes, your stickiness running down his hand as he halts it inside of you.

"You make better sounds when I play you than my guitar ever could," he retracts his hand with a playful grin and you giggle in turn, relaxing into the seat with all your limbs feeling like jelly.

A rap on the window pulled you from your state. You looked around with wide eyes, catching sight of Jamie with a teasing grin and eyes full of amusement.

"Get a room next time you horny bastards!" he shouts through the glass.

Alex rolls his eyes and puts the car in gear, giving him the finger as he drives away. Jamie's cackles can be heard down the street but the two of you weren't that fussed, just smiling to yourselves at how nothing had changed.

After the point where you'd been to see them, Alex's attitude towards you changed. He started to grow eager for you to be around again, constantly wanting to know your opinions on songs, asking you how certain riffs sound. You have no idea about the processes of a record but you listened to him as he waffled on.

But you just kept getting distracted. His eyes were wild, full of passion and his lips move fast in broken sentences where his thoughts were jumbled, coming out almost nonsensical. You found it so endearing and his lips even more so and you couldn't help but cut him off with a kiss.

You leant over his lap and the second he felt your lips on his, he hummed gratefully into your mouth. He didn't care for his lost words, not when your wicked tongue twined around his.

He pulled you into his lap swiftly, shuffling until his back hit the wall and you could sit on him properly, your knees pressed into the carpet at the sides of his body.

You loved how he responded to you, how hard he would get in a matter of minutes of you kissing. Before him you'd had a few boys and at their ages they hadn't exactly been hard to woo, and yet still you'd never managed to affect someone like you did Al.

You were attuned to him, knew just where to touch him. Like when you would kiss him and nibble his lower lip as he pulled away. Or when you would scratch your nails down his neck when he was fucking you, always leaving red marks that he'd have to wait for hours to fade. Or when you'd do what you're doing now, thrusting yourself so hard against him that he could feel your boobs squished between you.

He pleaded you with his eyes as he tugged the bottom of your shirt - his shirt actually - tossing it to the side. You'd stayed over the night prior and slept with no bra, and now your nipples were stiffening from the sudden change in temperature.

His eyes glazed over and his mouth went slack as he drank in the sight of you, in all your glory, with your little pout and your eager hips.

"Fuck," he muttered, "need to feel your cunt."

He's always blunt in his approach, never dressing it up romantically. His words on paper hardly matched what would leave his mouth but you didn't mind because his eyes always told you what you needed to know. Now they were telling you they were desperate for you and who were you to deny them what they wanted?

Alex shuffled slightly to edge his trackies down, his arse scratched against the carpet and it stung but he was too eager to care. Your panties were irrelevant, he merely pushed them aside until your pussy was on show and he salivated at the sight of you.

"Fuck," he repeated, his fingers teasing your swollen clit enough to have you gushing. He could see the stickiness of your arousal leaking onto his bottoms and he smirked, "always ready for me."

You huffed a laugh, your cheeks glowing as you darted a hand out to wrap around his length. It twitched in your hand, hot and heavy, standing upright like it was ready to comply to a sergeants command.

You sunk onto him with a gasp and his hand shot out to cover your mouth. He filled you all the way up, the tip prodding something that hurt deep inside but the pleasure outweighed the pain.

Your knees started to burn against the carpet as you started a steady rhythm, his quiet grunts making you work harder, faster, anything to hear more of those pretty sounds.

His eyes watched you bounce on him, how he would come out covered in your slick, how you would take him all over again, stretching to accommodate him. You were tight. Wet. Hot. His head rolled back against the wall and his lip bled as he attempted to bite back his noises.

You held steady on his shoulders, obsessed with where he would hit you inside, always right where he needed to. If you had nothing else, you'd always have this. Incredible, mind blowing sex. You weren't complaining.

Alex grew desperate and wrapped his arms around your waist, his knees pressing against your arse cheeks as he desperately fucked into you, his whole body moving, back crashing against the wall with each thrust.

His grunts echoed through your ear and made you shiver, you rested your mouth against the crook of his neck and gasped into his skin, tasting the sweat starting to form.

"I love you," he punctuated each word with a thrust and a grunt.

"I love you too Al," you gasped out, the end coming out an octave higher when you felt one of his hands slide between your body, pinching your sensitive skin until you coiled tight around him.

"M' gonna cum baby," he whispered into your hair, pressing kisses down to your ear, neck, sucking on the sensitive skin until your blood rose for him in pretty spots. He loved marking you up even if you hated it.

His arm came back around you as he delivered his final thrusts, his pace hasty, his groans louder - the pleasure clouded his mind and made him shake, hearing muffled and mouth ajar.

You licked into his mouth, the combined sensation of you filling his mouth and him filling your pussy becoming his unwinding.

His body went taut, his face moulded into an expression of raw pleasure that didn't fade for a while, making him look like he was carved out of marble. He was gorgeous and you whined softly when you felt his cum fill you.

He rocked his hips until the last of him had spilled and then his head came to rest against yours, his eyes big and round as you looked down at him, spidery lashes casting shadows over the lids of your eyes.

"I really do," his voice was gruff, you gazed at him half a world away in confusion, "love you."

"I know Al," you promised, a chaste kiss to his lips before you sat up. His hand followed your movements, he didn't want you to leave him cold and soft just yet, he liked to feel the warmth for a while longer, it was intimate, like a hug of reassurance.

"I don't want you to leave me."

"I won't."

Your mission had been accomplished. Perhaps a few weeks after you'd intended but you had him back where you wanted him nonetheless. His eyes gleamed with love, and yours mirrored. You both giggled as you leant in for a kiss and his hands softly slid up your calves. When he reached your knees, you yelped in pain and he looked at the area.

"Carpet burns," he barely suppressed the boyish smirk, "like a proper slut eh?"

You rolled your eyes, pulling yourself off of him so you could redress.

As he was pulling up his trousers and you were cleaning yourself up with the tissue box by his bed, you heard a soft knock on his bedroom door.

"Alex, honey?"

"Yeah mum," he huffed, quickly moving so he could open the door without her seeing you, still half naked, "Y/Ns just getting changed."

You raised your eyebrows, looking at the hair stuck up in every direction on his head and the flushed skin of his neck proved what you'd been up to. It's embarrassing, but inevitable. Where else are you supposed to fuck?

"Do you guys want to watch some TV? I've made you both a cuppa."

He looked around to you curiously, seeming up for it himself. The domestic scene she'd painted sounded like your dream come true. After weeks of absence, all you craved were the simple moments like those.

You nodded and he smiled.

"Sounds perfect."

She left and his attention moved back onto you. As you walked to the edge of the room in a far more presentable manner, he grabbed your waist and kissed you gently.

"I love you."

"So you keep saying," you giggled.

"And I'll say it again," he kissed your lips, "and again," your cheek, "and again," your nose, making you splutter with lovestruck laughter, hitting his chest, "and again…."

🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤🪩🖤

A/N: so soft for fetus Al, I can’t even.

[physalian]

Bringing Characters Back from the Dead Without Pissing Off Your Audience

I don’t know if there’s an emotional rollercoaster out there quite shaped like an audience bawling their eyes out over the death of a beloved character and the livid and bitter turnaround that comes when that character comes back to life in the most ridiculous and lore-breaking way possible.

So, TLDR, some suggestions, not rules, depending on your genre and tone armor and not all for a single story, cherry pick as you please. If this is a kids show or a comedy where “death” is a nebulous concept anyway, ignore this. This is more for dramas.

The point of a good character death and revivial boils down to this, imo: Does doing so serve the character, the story, and the themes? Killing a character should be as big of a moment as un-killing a character, as long of a road as it took to get there should be as long or longer as it takes to get out. Otherwise, you just did it for shock value and everyone noticed.

DO:

Establish that revival is even on the table at some point well before this character dies. The smaller the gap between “hey death is optional” and “oh look, it’s the fan favorite in peril”, the less likely your audience is going to feel all the intended gut-wrenching emotions.

Have the dying character completely unaware that this might not be a one-way trip, even if the audience does. The entire cast might not have any clue, but the audience knows because Character Who Knew Too Much revealed it before they died. There is a time and a place for “I’m going on a suicide mission but I secretly have a contingency plan to cheat death” and it’s very hard to do it well.

Demand some cost, either from the dead character or the person/thing/deity that saved them. It should not come without consequence. Either they’re permanently emotionally scarred, physically scarred, are only back for a limited time, or somebody else died to take their place, etc. If revival has no cost, then death has no meaning.

USE IT SPARINGLY GODDAMN

Let the character be as shocked and horrified that they’re not dead anymore as the audience is ugly crying at their return. If the narrative shrugs it off, it’s going to feel cheap.

Let the characters doing the reviving be unsure if it'll even work. If both the characters and the narrative believe bringing them back is a foregone conclusion, you lose out on a lot of tension on if it's all for moot.

DON’T:

Keep killing and reviving the same characters with the same sad music and the same funerals and day-drinking and expect the audience to really believe it’s for realsies this time, CW.

Keep pretending to kill off characters but they’re actually fine

Pull it out of nowhere and try to bend the plot in post as if this is actually a good thing and not manipulative writing

Controversial but: warn the entire audience ahead of time, for many, many books, that somebody’s gonna die and it’s gonna hurt, and then say “nah just kidding” at the end.

Revive them too quickly. Death is a powerful, dramatic event for the dead character and all those who survive them. Unless it’s like a drowning situation where the character takes a few more seconds to gasp awake, let the story stew in the aftermath properly, otherwise—why kill them in the first place?

Some examples:

Gandalf—This one’s a funny one because it doesn’t establish that death is optional. Gandalf “dies” and then Boromir dies maybe 45 minutes apart. Thing is, though, that Gandalf is a 3000 year old wizard and Boromir is just a dude. Two Towers also begins by replaying Gandalf’s fall with added context so you’re already primed with “well that must be important, his character is still relevant”. The movies certainly have their share of fakeouts, but characters who are meant to die (Boromir, Theoden, Theodred, Denethor) stay dead. Gollum is just made of silly string I guess and invulnerable to high falls, unless they’re into lava. Gandalf isn't the hero, either, his job isn't to save the world, it's to make sure that everyone else saves the world. If Aragorn fell fighting the Balrog and showed up out of nowhere in Two Towers, it would cheapen the whole victory when the gods can just say "nope you're not dead, cancel, undo button" but not smite the orcs for them.

Jon Snow—oh look I’m actually praising GoT for once. He dies in season 5 and comes back at the end of episode 2 of season 6 after a whole campaign of seemingly futile magic and the heroes giving up hope. This series is full of graphic and pointless deaths. The hero getting stabbed seven times in the chest in a mutiny isn’t out of left field at all. But back in season… 2, I think? The Hound comes across a dude who can’t be killed, who attributes that to this Lord of Light deity. The same deity that Melisandre (the witch who brings back Jon) also worships. It’s proper set-up, proper time spent mourning him with a whole break between seasons, proper build up with the impact of his death, and proper consequences once he’s back, dude isn’t the same and I will always miss his fluffier hair.

Leo Valdez—I have no idea if I’m in the minority here but back when Heroes of Olympus was being published, the fandom had five whole years to argue over which of the seven heroes was going to die. It was all over the walls. Yes, this is a series about mythological creatures with gods and gods of the dead and even Death being captured to stop people from dying. “Character cheating death” didn’t come out of nowhere. However. Even though it was properly established, the series spent five whole books promising that somebody was gonna die, and then Leo comes back because the Prophecy didn’t read the fine print. I liked Leo, but I cannot stand chickening out of killing a character and this was one hell of a deus ex machina when the whole last book was a misfire.

The Whole Vampire Diaries and Supernatural—everybody knows the CW is allergic to perma-deaths. There’s infographics out there calculating how many times Sam and Dean and Cas have died. I know more about the background to TVD so herein lies the issue: The creator was allergic to change of any kind and apparently the actors didn’t have the best relationship with her because of it and other reasons. Her characters fell in the same cyclical arcs because who they were in seasons 1 and 2 is everyone’s favorite iterations of their personalities, so they can never have proper arcs with real growth. TVD was a serialized show written like it was episodic, so nothing, not even death, was permanent save for a few characters here and there. Death lost all meaning, the writing was manipulative constantly expecting audiences to believe it this time, and the lore kept breaking each time they did it with new excuses to bring somebody back.

*Gaara—I don't actually remember it super well and his death pissed me off more than his revival but I want to add it anyway. How they brought him back, with Granny Chiyo sacrificing herself for him and him being utterly shocked that anyone gave a shit to bother rescuing him was great, no notes. Even better because I belive Chiyo was like "it's alright I can fix him" and everyboy but Naruto realized that doing so would cost her her life. I just hated how they showed you Gaara dying ~20 episodes before anyone got there to save him, meanwhile the heroes were dicking around fighting their shadow-selves instead of just... running away? They didn't know he was already dead. The lack of urgency for all parties involved, in a show that's legendary for its shit pacing, promptly ruined any chances of me watching it past that arc. But, the revival was well done, so. Have a Gaara.

—

And then you’ve got way on the far end of ass-pulls, characters like Palpatine, heroes in soap operas, or shows in their 11th season that have already checked out or know it’s dumb and don’t care how dumb. It’s the nature of the beast. It’s hard to get mad at them for the single sin of undoing death when they probably already have a hundred other problems.

[mountaintop-daydreaming]

guys i just watched episode 5 of the pjo show (ik i'm late, my brother and i watch it together and we've both been busy)

and i think it's my favorite episode so far so here's an incomplete list of things i loved about it

the percabeth hug. obviously. and grover just awkwardly breaking the silence when it went on a LIIITTLE too long? an icon fr. 🫡

the FBI looking for them. i was kinda worried they weren't gonna include that part cuz it wasn't super plot relevant but i'm so glad they did. hoping percy calls out gabe on live tv like he did in the books. that was funny as hell.

the way they just...walked down the highway? how long had they been walking when ares showed up? were they just gonna walk all the way from st. louis to LA? i have so many questions 🤨🤨

along that same vein, they way they hid behind the barrier and popped their heads up to talk to ares? peak comedy. i mean, stranger danger who? never heard of it.

skipping way ahead. annabeth geeking out at the amusement park cuz of the architecture and technology was so in character. that's my girl. 🥲🥹🙏

hephaestus's life story being told on the walls in lights was so fucking pretty. and how percy knew it all from the stories his mom told him?? 💔 breaking my heart as he spoke.

"maybe she was preparing you. so when you got to us, you'd be different than this." i'm so happy that annabeth is also a member of the stan sally jackson club. i welcome her with open arms 🫶

percy once again sacrificing himself for his friends. the way they're building up his fatal flaw is so effortless and wonderful. and then how hephaestus tries to manipulate annabeth into leaving him there by promising her glory. i really love the writers' commitment to fatal flaws as a motif in the story.

just...annabeth trying to save percy in general. got me crying fr. 😭😩 they're soulmates your honor.

"he isn't that way. he's better than that." need i say more? 🥲

also grover girlbossing ares that whole time, getting info out of him? what an icon. 💀 i feel like grover is slept on in this fandom and i won't stand for it anymore. and aryan is doing such a brilliant job. a hero among men. 🫡

also i was not expecting to actually see hephaestus but i kinda love how they're including more gods? idk i just think it's fun seeing the interactions and all their personalities.🙃

anyway, there's so much more i could write but that's what i could think of off the top of my head.

i can't way for next tuesday. i'm gonna be so insufferable after the lotus episode. if we get a subtle nico and bianca cameo i'm gonna lose it.

[mochiajclayne]

Hi there,

I hope you're doing well.

i read your post regarding SasuSaku and Sarada as a family and you stole the words right off my mouth.

I'd like to know your thoughts and opinions on Sasuke Retsiden because from what I can see, its only Jun Esaka (a mere light novel writer that writes non canon stuff) all over the internet being equally all over about her Sasuke Retsuden. I haven't seen any other light novel writer being more active about something non canon. Even kishimoto himself doesnt behave like this regarding his own work.

I'd like to also know about your opinions regarding Jun Esaka ATTEMPTING to remove or metaphorically kill Karin Uzumaki by making the main villain a Karin look alike and giving her sensory abilities to Sakura, which again, makes no sense. Does that woman hate Karin and SK so much? Is that woman so threatened by the very thought of SK as a couple that she had to incorporate a villain that looks like Karin Uzumaki down to a tee?

These are just my thoughts and speculations but I'm also really interested in knowing your side of the story.

Thanks for reading my long comment and i wish you a wonder day/afternoon/evening/night

Hi, @theuntamedangel! I appreciate the long comment! I hope you have a wonderful day/afternoon/evening/night, too!

Before I share my thoughts about Sasuke Retsuden, let me share that I did, unfortunately, have a sasusaku phase. I know. Shocker. The entire lore is here in case you're interested (promise it's relevant to my explanation).

I did hear about Sasuke Retsuden when I was still in college. Bits of information, specifically, about the chakra ring and from a perspective of someone who used to ship sasusaku casually, my initial reaction was okay good for them and I went on with my day. Note that I wasn't as heavily engaged in the Naruto fandom like I do now so for me to isn't active back then, hearing about Sasuke Retsuden, speaks volume on how it is over the internet that it even reached me.

I hate Sasuke Retsuden. It's badly written, it's OOC especially for OG Naruto characters, and the canon inaccuracies are more than enough to drive me into aneurysm.

Below this cut is my detailed thoughts about Sasuke Retsuden.

The villain looking like the male version of Karin caught me off guard. I don't know what the intentions behind the character design but I think they aimed for association as Jiji, one of the characters from this godforsaken novel, reminded me of Juugo.

I am not a sasukarin shipper but I do understand where the shippers are speaking from. I think they'll make a cool couple because Karin actually freaking cares about Sasuke when shit gets serious and outside of her "gag", she respects Sasuke's boundaries. Might be speaking out of the box but this novel in its existence was meant to be sasusaku-centric so the possibility of being threatened by all Sasuke-related ships, especially those making far more sense than SS, is high. I don't think Jun Esaka hates Karin. I would dare say that she picked a random character that could work as a direct contender to Sakura and unfortunately, she decided to scapegoat Karin. Moreover, the entire sensory ability shtick added to Sakura was uncalled for. I would go even further and say that Esaka's version of Sakura is what her stans hailed her to be--a superior version of [insert any Naruto's female character]. Even their pink haired kunoichi is incredibly OOC here and you expect me to take her seriously?

The funniest thing about Sasuke Retsuden is the way that they had to use SNS at first, specifically, Sasuke's mission is to find a cure for that chakra illness that Naruto alone suffers. Sure, this is SS centric but it all comes down to Sasuke and Sakura working together to find a cure for Naruto. Now, she could just write a novel about SS without using Naruto's "sickness" as some kind of a plot device, right? But no, she had to convince us somehow and an effective way to do that is literally Naruto and Sasuke.

The dinosaur. Don't even get me started. Even tailed beasts cannot fight against Sharingan to the point that canon graciously provided us evidence of both Madara and Obito controlling the Nine Tailed Beast. The very same Sharingan that made the higher ups of Konoha suspect the Uchiha clan as mastermind for that same incident. We're talking about the same dojutsu that manipulated the Fourth Mizukage. The canon inaccuracy throws me off the loop.

More inaccuracies. Suddenly Sasuke is an Earth and Ice Style user. Wow. Conveniently forgetting about Kakashi mentioning in Part 1 how Ice Style is a Kekkei Genkai that even Sharingan can't copy. As far as Naruto canon goes, Sasuke is a Fire and Lightning Style user. I don't consider Boruto as canon but even that animanga doesn't show any moment of Sasuke using Earth Style. It's insane that people claimed this as canon.

THIS DISTURBING INTERACTION. I did say that the OG Naruto characters are OOC in this shitshow novel and yes, unfortunately that includes Sakura. We've seen the way she react around Naruto's sexy ninjutsu antics. Unless objectification of women or the mere implication of it doesn't perturb her, then it says more about how Esaka portrayed her. I'd personally file a restraining order when a guy says he'd settle for my old, half smoked cigarette butts. I'm surprised that she didn't throw any snide remarks here.

WHO IS THIS SASUKE AND WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM. This panel made me laugh so hard because I feel like Esaka straight up ignored that Sasuke canonically spent years with his family before the Uchiha downfall happened. I don't think he'd be this clueless about how a married couple acts. Even in flashbacks, Sasuke was shown around his parents or Itachi, literally with his family. I think he knows well enough about married couples.

The ring part as well makes me cackle because Kurenai literally wears a ring in Shippuden. Trust me, Juugo-look-a-like, rings are used in Konoha by couples.

The Uchiha clan symbol takes me out because AREN'T YOU GOING UNDERCOVER IN THIS PRISON? WHY ARE YOU SHOWING THAT OFF?

The Chakra ring in question. Finding out the lore behind this further upset me and I am thankful that I no longer ship sasusaku. Show these panels out of context to someone with little to no exposure to canon and it would be romantic but if you know Narutoverse like the back of your hand, this novel served nothing. Seriously, the fact that Sasuke is incredibly OOC on this novel speak volumes. Imagine annihilating Sasuke's character to make SS work? Insanity.

Writing Edo Tensei with rose tinted glasses disgust me. That jutsu is straight up manipulating a dead body at your bidding. Tobirama shouldn't have invented that jutsu. Hinting that jutsu to be used to revive a loved one that passed away is vile and disgusting. The lack of attention to canon isn't a new thing for Esaka at this point.

Even this novel can't cover up the fact that Sakura doesn't know Sasuke well. If there's one thing that's consistent in the prequel, it was Naruto that gets into trouble. Sasuke doesn't use honorifics and he got away with it. His bluntness doesn't get him and everyone around him in trouble. Sasuke only began resorted to extremes when he was batshit blind and sinking into the unhinged depths of his hatred. Probably the only things that Sakura got correctly was Sasuke's kindness and his nonchalance about his looks but that's it. So the claim of knowing Sasuke inside and out is preposterous. The one who can say that is, guess who? Naruto.

Ending this long analysis with this panel because honestly, Ino is asking the questions for me. Unfortunately, despite being "married", their dynamic stayed the same. Sakura is still that same girl that has a crush on Sasuke, except she's in her 30s and Sasuke is still the same boy that rejected her date offers and the idea of being together with her, even reaching the point that he's away from her a lot.

I do apologize for going off to the point that I decided to pull a meta post about this. I do hope you're doing well and I appreciate the ask!

[kangals]

ok so here's what we found out from kepler's embark results! buckle up, it's a novel:

to start, i did what i've done for the past 2 embark tests i've sent in, in that when activating the kit i said that my dog was a mixed breed of unknown type, and i opted to not upload a photo beforehand. and like the last 2 times, embark correctly deduced that kep was a purebred collie. so while there's some dna tests out there that definitely suck, i can at least confirm that in my own blind trial, embark got it right 3/3 times. they're great. anyway:

also keeping very in line with being a purebred collie, kep's COI came back at 42% - very high for a typical dog, but dead-on average for a collie. he shares 60% DNA with stellina (despite being on paper second cousins, which should be around 1-2% shared. woe to the collie genepool). he's got a bunch of the same relatives that show up for stellina, which is, again, not surprising. dogs from windcrest, overland, and thistlebrae pop up a lot - if you're familiar with US collie lines, you probably know them.

color traits! kep is confirmed as white-factored, which i was almost certain of based on the pattern of his white markings - you can find more info on it here (referred to as "flashy irish" white) but essentially collies that are white-factored carry the gene for "extreme white" or color-headed white. white is an "incomplete dominant" gene, meaning that one copy affects the dog a little, and two copies affects the dog a lot (remember this term!) two copies of the gene makes the dog almost entirely white (an accepted color in the US, but not the UK/europe i believe), whereas one copy of the gene makes the regular "irish white" markings (the classic white neck ruff and white socks) extend a little further than usual - you'll notice that on kep, his white extends over his shoulders and up to his knees. whereas on stellina (who does not carry the white gene), her white is restricted to her neck, front stockings, and back paws. one of kep's brothers is white, so we knew he likely carried the gene too.

he is confirmed as not a secret merle, though he technically could have been a cryptic/phantom merle - didn't think so, but worth a check.

so all of this is very expected - the health testing is where things get interesting!

embark tests for 265 different genetic health conditions, 4 of which are considered "breed-relevant" for collies: collie eye anomaly (CEA), mdr1 drug sensitivity, degenerative myleopathy (DM), and some immune thing with a long name.

immune thing - clear

DM - clear (not particularly common in collies, but it does show up sometimes and it is a nasty disease)

MDR1 - double copies! this is a recessive gene and kep is mutant/mutant, aka he carries both copies which makes him clinically affected. this is common in collies, as about 60-70% of collies have at least one copy. the good news is this just means we have to avoid/take smaller doses of certain medications and he otherwise shouldn't be impacted by it at all. also his breeder already tested him for this so i already was aware.

CEA - single copy! this is also a recessive gene, which means that kep is not affected/normal-eyed, which is actually pretty uncommon! it's estimated that between 70-85% of collies are affected by CEA (yes, the gene literally called collie eye is common in collies. wow.). i also was already aware of this since he was already tested (worth mentioning that if you buy a collie puppy in the US, a screening by an ophthalmologist to check for CEA is required by the breed club).

and then the plot twist:

embark tells me "oh hey, btw, there's two other genes you should know about"

"your dog has one copy of the gene for accumulating copper toxicosis"

fucking what

so yeah, after a lot of reading into this: there's a gene called ATP7B that's almost exclusively found in labradors, goldens, and dobermans which affects a dog's ability to filter out copper. excessive amounts of copper start to build up in the liver, and if it gets to be too much it can cause liver disease, failure, and neurological problems. remember when we talked about white and white-factored dogs, several thousands words ago? ATP7B is also an incomplete dominant gene - one copy affects the dog a little, two copies affects a lot. kep has one copy, which in theory means he is at no risk, mild risk, or moderate risk of developing copper storage disease in his life. not devastating, but not ideal.

the plot thickens!

kep also tested positive for the gene called ATP7A, which as far as i can tell is like the exact opposite of ATP7B (i know, the names suck). see, ATP7B causes copper to accumulate. but ATP7A has been shown to cause a copper deficiency. it's also incompletely dominant, so one copy impacts a little, and two copies (should) impact a lot - and kep has both copies of ATP7A.

so: kep has one of the "too much copper" genes... but he has also two of the "too few copper" genes. and studies seem to suggest that the two genes have a neutralizing effect on each other if they're both present in one dog - basically, they cancel each other out.

there's a handful of studies looking at the effects of these genes on dogs, but they basically exclusively focus on labradors and dobermans - one UC davis study even suggested that these genes might not even have an effect on other breeds. i could find absolutely no literature about these genes in collies, or even in herding breeds in general. embark helpfully added that they don't have enough data on this gene in other breeds to claim if they had any effect. the genes also appear to be sex-linked, and affect females moreso than males. one study on labradors suggested that although many dogs tested were carriers of ATP7B, few dogs were clinically affected, which would say that perhaps its not uncommon for dogs with only one copy to not be impacted.

(i'm also wondering if perhaps this could be the case for kep - given that he has 2 copies of ATP7A, he had to inherit one from each parent. given that these genes aren't regularly tested for in collies, is it possible that some lines carry them and are just clinically unaffected? it may be entirely incidental.)

so essentially, he does have one gene that may be nothing, or may cause mild-moderate issues as an older adult/senior. he also has two copies of that gene's natural neutralizer, and is male, and comes from clinically unaffected dogs. so... i think in retrospect, it's something to note on his chart and keep an eye on, but the odds seem to be very stacked in the favor of him either not being affected, or having only mild affects later down the line. could be a nothingburger, might be a little-somethingburger, unlikely to be a seriousburger.

that being said: i am VERY glad i decided to do this test! obviously i knew what breed he was, and his breeder had already tested him for the most collie-relevant conditions, so this was done on more of a whim, but it turned up this potentially important result that i now know to investigate. you'll hear a lot about how breeders who just do embark, or pawprints, or etc aren't doing complete genetic testing, because so many of the diseases these tests screen for aren't breed-relevant and lots of other conditions aren't testable. which is true. 265 genes and only 4 are considered for collies! but once in a blue moon, one of those random other genes will indeed flag, as is the case here.

so yeah: very interesting results! breed, COI, relatives, color, and most of the health is exactly as expected. but boy that one little health bit really threw me for a loop.

[loupy-mongoose]

*Ahem*

Happy Halloween!! ^w^

Bug Fables.

It's my current favorite video game, and actually, you can thank it for Linden Roots existing~

I'll explain, but in order to do so I have to dive into spoilers for one of my absolute favorite plots for one of my absolute favorite characters, so I need to slap on a;

MASSIVE SPOILER WARNING!

In my opinion, this game is best experienced SPOILER FREE, so if you haven't played it and want to some day, I recommend skipping my info dump below. (This info can be acquired before beating the main game though. :>)

You're okay with spoilers? Yes? Okay, carry on.

So.

Those who are familiar with Leif's story will probably see how Bug Fables influenced the creation of Linden Roots.

A long while ago, I mentioned Randy being inspired by my favorite fictional character.

That's Leif.

Leif is a moth who is ancient.

And dead.

Loooooong before the game takes place (I can't find an exact timeframe; it's like a generation or two), Leif went with a team of bugs to explore a cave, but ended up dying in there. In that same cave, a group of scientists later experimented on cordyceps. Now, as soon as they became relevant to the story I was HOOKED.

I learned about cordyceps as a kid, and they scared the crap out of me. But it also was one of those morbidly fascinating things I'd look into once in a while. (Before anyone tells me, yes, I know that's what's in The Last of Us.)

If you don't know, IRL cordyceps basically turn bugs into zombies.

Anyway, the scientists were trying to find a way to create eternal life (what else is new lol), and did this through cordyceps. Which, as one could guess when dealing with zombie fungus, ended up going badly for the scientists.

One of the "failed" experimental fungi was thrown out, and found its way to the deceased Leif, and brought him back to life. It took on his memories, and Leif woke up without knowing what happened, until you dig into his story during the game. So the "Leif" we know in the game isn't truly Leif, but is the fungus living as him.

Now... I'm sure that sounds a bit familiar...

This idea of a character being dead-but-not struck a chord with me. It fascinated me to no end.

But there's more to it.

As one might expect, Leif has some tragedy surrounding him.

While playing the game, you can stumble upon his decedents.

This here is Muze. With a 'z'

This is Leif's great great however-many-greats grand-daughter, who you meet in the game's present day.

When he was alive, he had a wife.

His wife was Muse. With an 's'.

We never get to see what Muse looked like, but he says in-game that Muze is a spitting image of her. Hence why Akoya is dressed as she is in my pic. She's dressed as Muse.

Now, according to the developers, Muse was pregnant when Leif went into the cave where he died.

And he didn't know.

There are several moments in the game that show Leif's potential as a father, but one in particular stood out to me.

(Note for the images; Leif refers to himself as "We/Us".)

Oops, I forgot one. Vi finishes by shouting "I said it's not happening!"

The text in the last shot bounces/wiggles in-game, indicating playfulness or joking.

If you're familiar with Goombario and Goombella in the Paper Mario games, this dialogue is this game's version of that. You can have the main characters give flavor text on any area and most characters in the game. (And I recommend doing it often, as it adds SOOO much to the game! ^v^)

This bit takes place in the first room after Kabbu and Vi meet Leif. And at the end of the room, an event happens to change what's said for the rest of the game. Meaning, the only time you see it is RIGHT after they meet; He was getting playful with these two bugs he'd met only moments ago.

I'm sure it can just be seen as sarcasm, but having found this dialogue after learning about Leif missing out on raising a child, I saw it as a clue that he would've been a great dad. And it shattered me. ;w;

Randy and Akoya are wish-fulfillment. They're my version of Leif and Muse. They're my way of giving Leif and Muse what I'm sad they missed out on, while also keeping some of the angst, lol. Thankfully, they've evolved into their own separate characters that I feel I can be proud of, but Leif's story and tragedy still has a deep, well-protected place in my heart.

Anyway, thanks for checking out my ramble. I accept no blame for any potential spoiler you might've seen against your will. XD

[uglypastels]

Not Wholly Evil |II| Pirate!Eddie au

summary: as the daughter of the Governor, there is quite a heavy prize set on your safe return home, and the captain will not let anything come between him and his bounty.

Series Masterlist

word count: 5.7k

"semi dark fic" - READ the warnings:. (gun/sword)violence. blood. heavy scarring and wounding. minor character death. allusions to suicide, depression and trauma. kidnapping. imprisonment. alcohol. open and deep sea. pirates are pigs: frequent mentions of non-con and allusions to assault, but it does not actually occur. malnourishment. abuse. manhandling.

There might be a mention of other ST characters, and for plot's sake, everyone is an adult here, just coz I don't want fetus pirates running around, but they are not really relevant to the plot.

Chapter 2: Asphodel "Because you and I are alike, and there will come a moment when you have a chance to show it." - Elizabeth Swann, Pirates of the Caribbean 

Despite gaining the privilege of an open cage and access to the rest of the ship, you decided against this freedom… and in a way, that was all the freedom you could ask for, wasn’t it? To choose where to go or where to stay. The restrictions were only so far as anyone else on this ship. The uncharted waters kept you all at the bay of the plank. 

But perhaps there was a part of you was scared to go beyond what had now become your own piece of the ship, a safety blanket among the ravenous snake pit. It was not even a question. You could just tell by how you closed your cell door at the sound of footsteps approaching down the ladder towards you. These men were wild and unpredictable. You could never expect what they would do once with you. The distance was the only option. 

Perhaps not so free as the rest, after all. 

Yet. 

Because you would fight it. All of them. Make your presence known and show everyone you were not like any other they had snagged off a ship. You assumed there had been more, after all. More prisoners, more girls to take advantage of. The shackles hanging down from the wall in your cell, stained red with rust and blood, were proof enough of what once occurred below deck. 

Despite being the safest place you could be in, it still was a nightmare on Earth to spend your days there, among the crates and chests filled with stolen treasures, supplies, and whatever else was deemed worth the same amount of treatment as you. Everything had been stacked mindlessly, dropped at the earliest convenience, and items only moved to make a short path to your holding cell. The disorganisation and thoughtlessness around you had been a bittersweet nuisance. You could not stand it, but at the same time, it was nice to have something so trivial on your mind as the lacklustre distribution of goods around the ship. 

Clearly, no one cared about what was going on. No one spent enough time there to notice anything, besides you, of course. The only times someone climbed those steps were to bring you your meals or to bring more storage in. So what harm would it do to you put some order to it? 

It wasn’t much, but you had created a way to pass the long hours aboard. And it was pleasant, though exhausting. With the food you were given, your energy was not what it once used to be, and the first thing to go when not feeding the body properly is the muscle. Moving the larger items took a while, but you saw a positive outcome. By taking everything slowly, you had no fear of completing your task soon. It was a never-ending activity. Tiring but something for you to do, and most importantly, keep your mind too occupied with the straining work ahead rather than the larger picture of your current circumstances. 

A part of it was also an attempt at claiming your territory. Lifting large boxes was doing the trick when it came to letting out your anger and frustrations, too, a way to channel everything into the peculiar renovation. A point to focus on something physical, something you could control, instead of your emotions and everything going on around you. 

A few days since you began doing so, things started making sense. But, most importantly, no one who ever came down there seemed to notice or care what you were doing. Besides the food they had to feed you to keep you alive, there was little interest they seemed to have for your existence.

You found many other objects that they must have considered rubbish, but you could use them just fine. Like the old sails, or what you assumed were scraps of an old torn sail, folded up in a corner. It was such a large piece of material that you tied it up to the corners of your barred walls, creating a curtain that gave you some privacy. Most of the chests around you were locked, giant padlocks handing down from the cover, the keys most likely at the bottomless pit of the ocean along to their original owners. But some were shut, and of course, you poked a peak inside with interest. 

Some were empty, and some had scrolls of paper, which you took up as light reading for early mornings when the sun hit through the windows just right, giving you a bright light source. There were captain logs and maritime routes; letters never sent, and maps never finished. 

One caught your attention, and you read the most on those drabby mornings when nothing else could make you feel alive. This one particular letter, which you could only assume was intended for a young woman from her lover, kept your heart beating and your hopes of escaping this ship alive. At least the parts of it that you had managed to find, for the parchment was ripped to pieces, the last chunk still missing among the piles of items you were roaming through. 

By now, you had read it so many times you didn’t even need the paper to recite it. 

My dearest,  The nights have been cruel, but I spend them thinking of you, and suddenly, the dark sky does not feel so heartless anymore. I think of your eyes. The sea reminds me of them— it is a calming sight each morning, and I imagine you looking out of your window at the shore, and perhaps we look up at the same clouds, and it is like you are right by my side and the wind feels not as harsh suddenly. More like a kiss straight from your lips. Some days I hum the words of that song you sang to me. I know what you have said about my voice, and the kind words still warm my heart, but it will never compare to yours. I will never do the melody justice. Only you… 

There certainly was something about the love you felt seeping through each word you read and reread. It almost put you down into this state of calmness as it looped in your mind in the evening, letting you fall asleep. 

It was another evening like all the others before it. Your dinner had been served in silence. If you had not known better, you would have assumed all men had taken an oath of silence, never to speak again, but it was evident the quiet was only limited to you. As you felt the slumber climb over you, the deck was alive and well. 

The contrast between living aboard the Hellfire at night and day could not be more than that. While the sun was up, the boots fell heavy above your head, fatigue coming over them as the work had to be done. The crew did what they could to keep the boat afloat and sailing on. As much as the deep waters could be a calming sight to some, it was absurd that there could be nothing around you but water for days. Undoubtedly, the ship must reach a harbour quickly; provisions could only be stored in the salt barrels for so long. The last time the boat reached shore must have been days before your cage door had opened. Then again, you knew what going ashore meant for the people like the Hellfire crew… and did not wish the aftermath upon your worst enemies. 

There would be fire, which you knew they adored. It came alive in spirit and light when the night sky appeared. When the work was done, and the sails smoothly let themselves be guided by the wind, you could always hear them walking above your cage, taunting their freedom with songs and tales. The ship was like a masquerade when the moon lit everything in her silver glow. It would have to be, or else the weariness and longing for land would take over. 

The songs were nothing special, typical shanties and hymns allured by a drunken chorus, singing the ballads of adventure and treasures, beautifully sombre. Yet, these moments made you believe that some humanity was left in them. Some kindness and compassion, too. A part that they would never dare show when the sun came up. 

It was as if the men aboard were two different people in one, where one side came out during the night and the other during the day. And you seemed to much prefer the nighttime sort. As, during the sun hours, the candles and lanterns went out, and with it, their souls were all back to their usual dirty selves. Their dark spirits would take over once more.

Either way, the nights were extended, as no sleep came to anyone. Not with the singing being so loud that it drilled into your ears. For them, slumber would come later and disappear quickly too, but no one seemed to mind. 

You had no way of telling the time on board, the only possible tell sign would be the sun's position, but even that was never exactly as you had barely any idea where in the world you were. All you could make out was that the crew made way for their hammocks in the small hours of the morning when the sun teased its appearance at the horizon, its glow awakening everything else but the drunken sailors that held you captive. 

The ship was asleep. The only sounds you could make were the waves smashing into the vessel and the gulls screeching in the distance. It was an opportunity. You could roam the deck unbothered. 

With a deep but shaky breath, you inhaled the salty sea air as you climbed the ladder, hands paling at your knuckles from your grip on it. The trapdoor opened with a creak, and you froze in your movements, waiting for the sound to have woken up everybody… but the silence resumed. You let out another deep breath and pushed the door open to reveal the sky, millions of stars looking down at you, but already fading as the sun appeared slowly. The dewy morning hours were dark but brighter than anything you had been surrounded with since your capture.

It had been getting colder by the day, and you already knew that by sitting in your cell. Soon enough, more than your dress would be needed for the climate you were entering. Shivers swarmed your arms at the wind blowing by. Your steps remained small and apprehensive as you needed help figuring out where to go. You had the entire ship deck to yourself for a short time. There was so much to explore above ground, but your legs automatically steered you towards the barriers of the ship.

You walked over to the ship's edge, letting your nails dig into the wood and your frustrations on the trim piece. Stand there, look at the horizon, and watch the sun slowly rise from under the water. The first sunrise you witnessed in weeks— at least not from the small window that peaked right over your head in your cell– had been a euphoric experience. Everything felt brand new. As your last attempts at peeking at the waves had resulted in painful flashbacks of your previous minutes aboard the Red Tail, now, you focused on the calm ripples of the water. No longer was the only thing you saw in the blue the blood of your long-lost friends. You saw their resting place. In the early morning, golden sun rays peeked out from the horizon, illuminating the drab grey of the waters like a liquid treasure hiding beneath the surface. You saw the waves moving along the ship sheepishly, back and forth. Calmly, sleepy, drifting away into the distance with each push of the boat and wind. It was slowly waking up, the sea, the earth. 

What would it dream of, you pondered. It must be lovely to be so at peace. 

If you closed your eyes and let the fresh golden light wash over you for long enough, you could fool yourself into oblivion. That you were somewhere else. A happy place.

It was so peaceful and quiet that the smallest of disturbances broke you out of your happy thoughts. You felt the presence from across the ship, his eyes on you, disintegrating your moment of bliss. But, of course, it could have been anyone, and you expected it to be one of the crewmates, one of the men with poor luck who had to start their work shift with the sun. 

Never, in a million years, did you imagine turning around and meeting with a pair of golden hazel eyes. Captain Munson was leaning against one of the masts, leg prodded against the wooden pole. He chuckled at the sight of your face, evidently struck with panic. How had he even reached the centre of the deck so quietly? Because… he could not have been standing there, or anywhere, all this time?

In one hand, he held an apple, and in the other, a small knife. He pressed the blade against the fruit’s skin and his thumb over it, cutting a small piece off. Then, still with the knife under it, he brought the apple slice to his lips. Never did his eyes leave yours as he ate. You felt unnerved with each move he made. You felt the need to look away, but for some reason, you simply couldn’t. It was like he was capturing you in a trance. So instead, you let your nails dig into the ship’s rail even more.

‘Do not let me disturb you, my darling,’ he eventually said and bode you farewell with a slight bow before parting ways. You were left stunned. Not sure what to say or do, you just turned back to look at the sea. It had no effect and felt like a sore loser's words, but you mumbled “Not your darling” under your breath. 

Had that been all? It was all extremely disorienting. Because, of course, he had meant to disturb you. He did so to your very core. That cold-eyed gaze opposed the actual warmth of his honey irises. It froze your blood. It spoiled everything about your morning. 

And as quickly he had appeared behind you, so quick the captain was to disappear out of your view again.  You looked around yourself for good measure, extending your neck to locker over the larger barrels standing in the corners of the deck, but he had genuinely evaporated into the early day’s mist. A phantom of the sea.

But just because he was gone didn’t mean his presence was. You still felt his eyes on you, lurking from hidden darkness. Perhaps the darkness was in your own head, inner thoughts poisoning your sanity, but the feeling remained nonetheless. 

Suddenly, the calm sea was anything but. Instead, the light sky seemed dull and grey, the waves bouncing off the ship aggressive. There was nothing peaceful about it left behind. There was nothing left for you there. But you remained steady in your place on the boat, looking out ahead at the horizon until the sun rising began to burn your eyes with its bright presence, and the wind blew harder. Only then did you decide, on your own devices, to head back down into the warmer discomfort of your enclosure. 

You lay on the ground and threw that thin fleece over yourself, hoping to fall asleep and thus pass on the rest of the day. But, if Lady Luck was on your side, it would be one of the silent dreams that asked nothing of you but your mind, leaving it as it was. In fact, letting you rest from the horrors that were your life.

And so, the sleep came, but quiet it was not.

Flashes of the Red Tail. Flames, explosions, blood, it was all around you. Men dying over and over again. You tried to scream out, reach for them, and help them, but it was as if your body was stuck in the mud, unable to move. So you just had to stand there, helplessly, as you watched everyone around you die.

The pool of blood expanded over the sinking ship. The sky turned dark, almost black. You looked up to see the sun–that same sun that kissed you welcome mere minutes ago at the horizon– melting, enveloping everything in darkness. Once you looked back down, another urge to scream came over you. 

A figure was standing not far from you, perhaps a few feet away. Covered in the blood that the ship was drowning in, from head to toe, he was basically dripping in it. 

He smiled at you, a canine-baring grin. Then, slowly but steadily, he neared you. 

“Oh, we’re going to have a lot of fun, princess, aren’t we?’

You awoke with a pitched scream. 

Breathing heavily, just trying to get your heart back on a steady rhythm, the clanking of swords echoing in your head was doing everything against it. Just like that day on the Red Tail. Just like in your dream. You could still hear it, and it felt so real. Each loud hit of metal against metal made you wince. Cannons would follow soon. Then the blood… 

But only the swords remained. It kept going and going. Then there were the footsteps. Heavy above you, making the whole ceiling shake. It felt like a stampede, in all honesty. And there was shouting. Boisterous clammer. Followed by crowded cheers and some clinking… that you could not immediately make out what it was supposed to be. 

One thing you knew for sure, however. Whatever was happening above you, it could not mean anything good. It simply reminded you too much of that other day. That first day… or was it your last?

There was a fight ongoing on the deck. The question was, what kind? Were you being attacked? Would another group of men come down the ladder steps and haul you onto another ship? Will they cheer over Munson’s death as these men cheered over Carver’s? Would this circle of hell ever end? 

No, it couldn’t be that. The cheering was too joyful and—was that laughter you could hear? Yes. Loud and boisterous. Right above your head. In a chorus. Your mind went to the evenings you had endured sleeplessly as the men jested until the sun rose, but when you looked out the window, you still saw the bright blue sky. So what was going on? 

Against your better judgement, you took a risk, all in the thought of showing initiative and how powerful you would look walking out of the trapdoor onto the full deck. You just told yourself that enthusiastic cheering was a sign of no evil. It indicated that it was no malicious attack of another ship, that whatever you would encounter, there would be nothing to be afraid of. With that confidence, you climbed up there, pushed the trapdoor up and– 

A blade wobbled back and forth as it deeply penetrated the deck's surface, inches away from your face. You held onto the edge of the floorboards, trying not to fall back down, as the scream that erupted from your lungs halted everything around you. Everybody in reach hooked his gaze on you if they weren’t fast enough to run up to the hole you were attempting to crawl out of. No one helped, of course. They just stared. Dozens of pairs of blank and cold eyes blinked arhythmically as the bodies they belonged to stood frozen in a circle, unsure of what to do next. The blade stuck in the wood still shifted in its new makeshift holster. 

Then, much like on your very first day aboard, the circle opened up to reveal the captain. He stood several feet away, and you caught him blinking slowly before approaching you. Had he been hesitant to approach? Was he, though you doubted, startled to see you?

But whatever emotion it had been to cause his hesitance, it was gone as he spoke:

‘Just in time, darling!’ The silence was broken, and so was the tension your appearance had created.

He had an almost identical sword in his hand. Behind him stood one of his crew mates, face paling despite the grimace he was trying to pull off among his peers. He must have been who the captain dramatically disarmed, ending with that sword landing and nearly cutting your nose off. Was anyone feeling guilty for putting that fear upon you? 

Highly unlikely.

The captain neared your trapdoor, leaning down on one knee and reaching his hand out to you, an attempt at some fair treatment toward; helping you get up onto the deck gracefully—you boldly refused. The idea of touching him… images your mind had conjured up in the night still pestered you and flashed past your eyes at the sight of his hand so near you. You looked away as your feet touched the deck for the second time that day. You hated the sight of him any given day, but this particular afternoon, it was even more of an unbearable sight.

The captain had abandoned his hat, opting to tie his hair with a red ribbon into a ponytail, failing to do so properly as strands were already escaping at the frame of his face. His long black coat and shirt also had been abandoned. It was a hot day, and with the training, he was most likely performing, the sweat on his chest was already forming, despite the cool breeze standing a strong fight with the sails. 

A ghastly sight, truly, the sweat that slicked over the countless prints of black ink on his arms, chest and ribs. The ink barely covered the various scars in the same placements. Some were small, like the nicks of a blade. The new bright red cut across his clavicle would surely join that collage. Others were unmistakably older but must have once been deep flesh wounds, possible gunshots, bites, or the results of things you most likely would not even be able to fathom. It looked like a visual of a life of torture.

You blinked, letting his previous words settle in your mind. ‘In time for what?’ You looked around. All eyes remained on you since you had made your presence known, something you had fallen out of habit with. You were not used to getting so much attention anymore.

‘Training, of course.’ Munson easily pulled the blade out of the ship planks, handing it to you. ‘Has anyone ever taught you how to fight?’

‘No.’ It was unladylike to swordfight, scuffle, argue, or do anything you did at the time of your capture. The heft felt awkward in your grip, clearly too big for your hand, but the entire piece felt off-balance. It must have been a homemade contraption of one of the Hellfire crew. Possibly molten out of the treasures residing downstairs with you. You adjusted your grip on the sword, but nothing felt right.

Nothing you did slipped past the Captain, whose eyes were on you and his crew. He pursed out his bottom lip in a mocking pout. 

‘A true pity.’ He swung his blade back and forth. Each swoosh in the air made you flinch. ‘maybe if someone had, you wouldn’t have ended up here with us.’ The chuckle started deep within him but evolved into a guttural laugh from the whole crew. The sound boiled your blood in anger as well as embarrassment. You wanted to attack their captain immediately but knew it wouldn’t end well. He looked you up and down with his casual smirk, and you made it a point to, somewhat confidently, keep your head up. No longer could he think he could just do whatever he pleased with you. ‘But there is always time to learn, I believe.’

‘I don’t want to fight you,’ you simply stated, looking down at the longsword clutched in your hand. 

‘C’mon, princess,’ Munson swung his sword back and forth, ‘it’s no fighting. it’s just a bit of fun.’ 

‘I see no fun in useless acts of violence.’ Did any of your words sound profound? Confident? You were ready to hear another wave of laughter, but it did not come. The only response was a smirk of the captain, but not one you had seen before.

It wavered. 

‘Don’t be like that, my darling.’ He recovered with his mockery, but you were no longer having any of it. With large strides, you closed the gap between you two across the deck. The men around you were split in moving back or getting ready to seize you if the situation required interference. The captain was among the former group. His stance shifted backwards as you met him, your chest nearly hitting his. 

Your grip tightened on the sword, and he must have noticed it by how his eyes shifted down to your arm and back to your face. 

A million different things ran through your mind; there were endless possibilities for relieving your anger at the man standing before you, all being the catalyst of events that you did not dare start. What were you to do? 

Your nails dug into your hand as your fingers wrung the halt of the sword. With this object alone, you could do a hundred different things, most of which would result in only a worse situation for yourself. 

You struck the blade down with as much power as you could muster. Like it had hit the planks in front of your face moments before, it now missed the captain’s feet by mere inches. He looked down, never moving anything but his eyes, and then looked directly at you again. His features were blank of expression; no fear or anger, but no amusement either. 

‘Call me any of that again, and next time it won’t be the deck that gets it.’ You had dared to move closer, letting your faces nearly touch. That smell of cinnamon and rum greeted you again. A few seconds passed as you stood there, eyes piercing through one another. Your blood boiling, his chest heaving with deep, controlled breaths.

He did not respond.

Or at least not until you had turned to walk away. 

‘I would love to see you try. It sure is easy making empty threats, prin–’ but he never got to finish his mockery. Perhaps because it was even easier to sound confident behind one’s opponent’s back, not looking them in the eye, that angered you. The fact that the man who threw you in a cage was, in reality, nothing but a coward. At that moment, all regard for your safety escaped you as you turned back on your heel and lunged your fist towards his face. 

It must have hurt you more than him, but the pink mark across his cheek was established. You did not bother to await his reaction once more and walked away for good– as far as the circumstances allowed you, which was not far. The ship was only so big, and the circle of men had moved onto the trapdoor, locking you in the fresh afternoon air. 

They were ready to retaliate for your aggression towards their captain, but his words boomed across all ears. ‘Stand back! I said stand back,’ he repeated when some still tried to reach for you. You passed the crew and made for the spot you had become familiar with over the morning. Trying to ignore everything behind you, you again reached the ship’s edge. Their voices lingered over everything, impossible to block out, but you let yourself focus on the ripples in the water as your anger subsided. 

Not long now. You had already been so close to home when they took you, and it's been days. Surely, soon they would reach the shore of your home and give you back to your family. That idea somehow managed to overcome everything that was actually happening around you. 

Though you had slept through most of it, it had been a long day, and signs of it were showing in the sky. Now turning a soft pink and orange as the sun began to set once more, the night was coming. With it, the stars. Would you stay outside long enough to look at them? It had been a sight you had missed properly gazing at the millions of twinkling lives above you, the constellations and the stories they told. 

It would all depend on the men that had now resumed their sword-fighting practice. 

The casualness of it all was actually rather comforting, as it, for once, did not bring back memories of the unfortunate ship you had bid farewell to but rather the surroundings of your father’s estate. There, men like Admiral Carver were standing guard or practising, but also young boys and girls who ran away from their mothers, pretending to be on great little adventures with large twigs for weapons. For a moment, you could swear you could smell the fresh flowers that bloomed outside your bedroom window, or the spices haggled for at the market in the harbour. There were cats meowing and dogs barking. To think that once you had grown tired of it all, yearned for something new in life, but now could not imagine anything greater than a return home…

Who knew how long you had stood there staring at the darkening horizon. Your thoughts must have sent you off into the distance from the ship, as you had not realised anything happening around you. The sea was quickly becoming a comfort. When looking out at it, you did not have to face the cruel reality of the Hellfire and the people upon it. The waters seemed so inviting and freeing that you couldn’t help but think if maybe walking the plank wasn’t always a punishment… 

You had not even noticed the smile creeping up at the corners of your lips, but it never came to fruition as you were broken out of the spell. 

‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ the deep voice startled you, but you did not show it. In your short time aboard, and now being in actual contact with these scoundrels, there was one thing you had learned: To show fear to people like Munson, like the men on this ship, was possibly the stupidest thing a person like you could do. Letting fear control you would let them control you, playing right into their hand. Instead, display confidence and strength, which gets under their skin. 

You glanced over as much as you could without physically turning in his direction. His long dark hair messily flowed with the wind now that he had released it from the ribbon. He was looking directly at you, making you grow hot with anger. Then, subtly rolling your eyes, you looked away again, back to the waters. That, however, did not stop the Captain from speaking again.

‘A view like this makes you think of how big the world is. How small you are.’ He held his dagger again in his left hand, twirling it mindlessly between his fingers. He was standing so close that your arms were brushing against one another. His gold and silver chains jingled at the slightest of movements. You tried to focus on that instead of his words. A task that turned out to be much more challenging than you had thought, as the Captain did not enjoy your rejection. 

‘A bit of advice, princess,’ he leaned closer to you, his breath mixing with the wind. His nicknames for you would just have to lose their meaning in your head, as clearly, they were not going anywhere. ‘The silent treatment is not doing you any favours. On the contrary, my men like their girls quiet.’

‘Spare me, please,’ you hissed. 

‘Believe me,’ he responded as if he could read your mind, ‘finding yourself on our ship has spared you enough,’ he let his head hang lightly askew, looking up at you with his large eyes, bemused– you could tell you had lost his one-sided game by speaking up. Then you might as well keep going.

‘Is that a threat?’ Just a reminder that even when you were not locked in a cage, you were not truly free or safe. Their danger constantly loomed over you. 

‘Far from it, darling. I simply hope you know that there are much worse things out there,’ he leaned forward, forehead nearly touching yours as his hand reached out to the waters at your side to point at the waves with his blade. ‘You probably can’t even think up the horrors that live out in the wilderness of the oceans.’ What could he possibly know about your imagination? If only he knew that, at this specific moment, you were considering five different ways to gauge his honey eyes. 

You turned to him directly now. His stare at you was cold and focused. The mark you had left on his cheek was now also unavoidable. It called to you and anyone who looked at him like a beacon of a lighthouse. That smile of yours from seconds before threatened to come out again, but you held it in. However unbothered he might have sounded at the strike, you did not believe that could have been it. There must have been a reason for his current approach. What you had done in front of his entire crew was unacceptable and certainly not inconsequential–you could not imagine that he had not set a punishment ready for you. And whatever it would be, you doubted it would be subtle or free of pain. Yet, you reminded yourself of the freshly taught lesson. Keep your head up. Don’t show your fear. 

Not breaking eye contact, you decided to simply ask. 

‘What is it that you want from me?’ 

And the Captain did not waste a second in his response.

‘See me in my quarters, darling.’ 

-Chapter 3-

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