#Some of the verses are better than others.

[notherpuppet]

things i've learned about fandom ❇️

i got into fandom pretty recently. i mean i'm pushing 30, so i didn't really "grow up" in fandom and thus, had a lot to learn about being nice online lol. i've definitely been in fandoms b4, but never quite as immersed as i am now. like, last year was the first time i've been to a con! it was really fun. i feel like i've learned a lot this year and i think most folks navigate without malicious intentions, but there are some faux pas that i've observed (that i have done myself unfortunately😖 ) and idk who may be interested in hearing this, but just some of my observations; (anthropologist hat on) dead dove do not eat: in the realm of fiction and freedom from censorship (which is cool as hell imo), there are gonna be some stories that may seem quite taboo or distasteful to one's sensibilities. if you're not a fan, i recommend blocking/muting. usually folks are quite good about tagging ships or dynamics, in consideration of those who may want to find or avoid that content.

the etiquette seems to vary by region of the world (makes sense) if commenting on a post for someone who speaks a different language than you, it may be better to avoid idioms/expressions as they may translate literally and seem harsh to another culture. (e.g. "omg they are sickening" a compliment in america, an insult maybe everywhere else LOL) obviously u can do whatever u want, but being a hater (or anti?) is probably gonna lose you some charm points. so if coming across a certain way is important to you, then this is probably just something to consider. for example, there are things i observe in fandom that i don't really like, but i avoid dogging on it publicly because idk that's kinda mean spirited, right? but also because i have this unexpectedly big following and i'm not trying to start a dogpile or sic people after others. the internet can be scary 😳 when i make complaints, i try to keep it vague so that individuals are not attacked cuz that would suck pls don't be a fandom cop: this is the internet, pls dont be a self-appointed authority figure. it's natural that folks will have their critiques. why not write about it in your own space instead of trying to control others' actions? (especially with an air of entitlement and self imposed moral authority, like cmon) obvs folks are gonna do whatever they want on the internet, i just think this behavior is lame as hell ight that's all i got LOL. this is for any fandom newbies like i was (this is not meant to be rules or anything because that would be icky. but just wanted to share my experience with fandom since i've learned a lot from discussions with others more versed in fandom life)

[caracalla-dondus]

Suspicious Minds

Pairing: Emperor Geta/wife!reader

Summary: A senator informs Geta about the rumors surrounding his wife

Author's Note: This fic consists of pieces I took out from a much longer fic I had written. After reading what I originally wrote I didn't really vibe with the whole thing and so I took out parts I liked best to create this fic. Idk if it's better or worse because things feel a bit rushed in this fic now and not as cohesive as before but it's good enough I think ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I was partly inspired by Fire & Blood where it says that some in court found Queen Rhaenys Targaryen suspicious because she spent time with bards and singers and they were sure she must be having an affair on Aegon I. Also the title is from the Elvis song of the same name because it popped into my head while writing this because it's similar to the plot lol.

~~~

The late afternoon sun streamed through the marble arches of the palace, casting shadows across the floor of the Emperor’s private chamber. Emperor Geta paced restlessly, his jaw clenched tight, his fingers twitching. The rumors had come to him this morning, carried by a senator whose words had been carefully chosen, yet laced with venom.

“She is often seen in the company of poets and bards, my Emperor. Some say perhaps too often.”

The words echoed in Geta’s mind as he strode to the balcony. Below him, others strolled about, oblivious to the storm brewing in his heart. He had always known that his wife had a fondness for the arts. It was one of the things that had drawn him to her. The way her eyes lit up when she heard the verses of a poem she thought was interesting, the soft smile that graced her lips during the final notes of a ballad. She was a woman of intelligence and charm. Perfect qualities to be his empress.

But now those very same qualities and interests had become the source of his unrest.

~

Geta finds his wife out in the garden. “I had hoped to speak with you my wife,” he said, his tone polite but firm. 

“What troubles you, my love?” she asked, her brow furrowing as she stepped closer to him.

Geta studied her, his gaze lingering on her face, searching for some sign of guilt. But she looked as she always did, serene, composed, and beautiful. “There are whispers in the court,” he began slowly, “that your affection for music and poetry has extended beyond mere appreciation.”

His wife’s eyes widened, and then she laughed softly, a sound like the chiming of bells. “Surely you don’t believe such nonsense.”

“I don’t want to,” Geta admitted, his voice low. “But the court is not kind to a woman who spends her days surrounded by other men, no matter how innocent her intentions.”

Her smile faded, and she placed a hand on his arm. “Geta, these men are poets, musicians and artists. They speak to me about the soul, not the flesh. My heart belongs to you, and only you.”

He wanted to believe her. He needed to believe her. But the thought of her laughter, her attention, her admiration being bestowed on another man gnawed at him. “Then why do others speak of you so?” he demanded, his voice rising slightly. “Why do they say you adore Bacchus so much that you have embraced his indulgences?”

His wife stiffened, her hand falling away. “Do you question my virtue?” she asked, insulted that her husband would believe such nonsense about her.

“I question the company you keep!” he snapped, the words sharper than he intended.

She took a step back, her expression conveying her hurt and frustration. “You have always known who I am Geta. I am not a woman content to sit idly in the palace, just simply gossiping my day away. I find joy in the divine chaos of creation. If that makes me suspicious in the eyes of our court then so be it. But I will not apologize for things I did not do.”

Her words hung in the air between them, heavy with emotion. Geta clenched his fists, his anger warring with his love for her. Finally he spoke, his voice softer. “I do not wish to stifle you. But I cannot bear the thought of others questioning your loyalty or your love for me.”

His wife stepped closer, her gaze steady. “Then let me reassure you, my emperor. I am as sure of my love for you as I am about Sol bringing us the sun each morning. But if you doubt me, then tell me what must I do to prove myself?”

He sighed, reaching out to cup her face in his hands. “Stay with me tonight,” he murmured. “Let the poets and bards sing their songs without you for once. Let Bacchus have his revelry elsewhere.”

She smiled faintly, leaning into his touch. “If it will ease your mind, my dear husband then I will stay.”

Geta pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as if to shield her from the whispers that sought to undermine them. But even as he held her, a shadow of doubt lingered, refusing to be banished entirely.

~

The grand halls of the palace echoed with the click of her delicate sandals against the marble floor. The weight of her husband’s arm on her shoulder was both reassuring and suffocating. For the past three days, Geta had not let her out of his sight. Where she went, he followed. Where he could not follow, he sent his guards to watch her every step. It was unlike him, and though his paranoia was silent, she could feel it in the way his fingers tightened around her arm, in the watchful, almost desperate glint in his eyes.

She had tried to comfort him, tried to reassure him of her loyalty, but it seemed no words could pierce through the suspicion that had taken hold of him.

During a feast, Geta watched his wife like a hawk as she entertained a visiting nobleman whose son had written a collection of poems. His wife listened to the man intently, her soft smile never wavering as the man recited a verse.

But Geta saw something else. He saw how the man’s eyes lingered on her, how her laughter seemed to light up the room. His fingers dug into the armrests of his chair, his jaw tightening. Was it admiration? Was it mere courtesy? Or was there something more? The thoughts churned in his mind like a storm, dark and unrelenting.

When the man left, Geta wasted no time. He rose abruptly, crossing the room to where his wife stood.

“You enjoyed his company,” he said, his voice low but laced with accusation.

His wife blinked, startled by his tone. “He was reciting his son’s poetry, my dear husband. That’s all it was.”

“You smiled at him,” Geta pressed, his eyes narrowing. “You laughed.”

“Am I not allowed to smile and laugh?” she asked softly, though there was a tinge of frustration in her voice. “Must I always wear a sour expression to please you?”

His hand shot out, gripping her chin and forcing her to look up at him. “You are mine,” he said, his voice trembling - not with anger, but with something deeper, something more fragile. “Your smiles, your laughter, they belong to me and no one else.”

Her eyes softened as she saw the flicker of insecurity behind his harsh words. She reached up, covering his hand with her own. “And they are yours, Geta,” she murmured. “Only yours.”

His grip loosened, and he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as if afraid she might vanish. “I will not lose you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I cannot.”

~

For the next several days, Geta’s wife’s world shrank. Where she once wandered the gardens freely, now her husband walked beside her, his hand resting possessively on her waist. When she visited the library, he went with her. Her gatherings with poets and musicians were no more, replaced by dinners where Geta sat her beside him, his eyes never leaving her.

She tried to be understanding, but his constant scrutiny weighed heavily on her. One evening, as they sat together in their chambers, she finally spoke.

“Geta,” she began, her voice tentative. “Do you not trust me?”

He looked up from the goblet of wine in his hand, his expression guarded. “Of course I trust you, you are my wife,” he said after a long pause. “It is everyone else I do not trust.”

“You cannot keep watch over me forever,” she said.

His jaw tightened. “You are my wife,” he said firmly. “My empress. And I will not risk anyone else taking you from me.”

“Even if it means suffocating me?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Geta flinched, as if her words had struck him. He set the goblet down and rose to his feet, pacing the room. “You do not understand,” he said, his voice low and strained. “I have enemies everywhere. We have enemies everywhere. They would use you against me. They would take you from me. Take your love away from me”

“Who could take me when I am yours in both heart and soul?” she asked, rising to stand before him.

He stopped, his gaze meeting hers. For a moment, he looked like a man on the edge of breaking, his carefully constructed armor of intimidation cracking to reveal the fear beneath. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice trembling. “But the thought of losing you terrifies me.”

She reached out, cupping his face in her hands. “Geta,” she said softly, “you will not lose me. I love you.”

He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. “Promise me,” he whispered. “Promise me you will never leave me.”

“I promise,” she said, though her heart ached at the desperation in his voice.

He pulled her into his arms again, holding her as if his life depended on it. She sighed softly, resting her head against his chest. She understood that his possessiveness was not born of cruelty, nor out of a need to stifle her but it was of a fear he could not truly voice, a fear he could not truly reconcile with, and it had consumed him.

And so she stayed, tethered to him by her love for him, hoping that soon his insecurities would ease and he would see that she was his, not because he demanded it, but because she chose it. But she was not sure how much she could take of this suffocating behavior. Of every move of hers and every interaction being heavily watched.

~

She rarely let her frustrations boil to the surface, but this time was different. As she sat across from her husband in their private chambers, the weight of the senator’s venomous words and their impact on her marriage gnawed at her patience. For days and days now, Geta’s suffocating possessiveness had taken over every aspect of her life, and she could no longer bear the thought that this rift between them had been instigated by a man seeking to undermine her, a man seeking to replace her.

She set down her goblet with a sharp clink, her hands trembling, not with fear, but with barely restrained annoyance and anger. “I’ve been thinking, my dear husband,” she began, her voice calm but carrying an obvious edge to it.

Geta glanced up from his seat, his brow furrowing slightly at her tone. “What is it?”

She met his gaze, her eyes blazing with uncharacteristic determination. “The senator who came to you with these baseless rumors. I believe he must be punished.”

Geta blinked, clearly surprised. “Punished? For what?”

“For daring to speak against me,” she replied, her voice firm, slightly exasperated that he did not already know what she spoke of. “For poisoning your mind with lies and causing this… this chaos between us. He sought to undermine your confidence in me, to cast doubt on my loyalty, to possibly destroy my reputation. That is not something we should let go unanswered.”

Geta leaned back in his chair, studying her intently. “You surprise me, wife. I thought you were above petty revenge. You have always counseled me against such rash decisions before”

“This is not petty, nor is it rash!” she shot back, her tone sharpening. “He sought to disgrace me, your wife, your empress. By doing so, he has disgraced you as well. How can you tolerate such audacity?”

Her words struck a nerve. Geta’s insecurities flared, his mind racing as he considered her argument. She was right. The senator’s insinuations had not only called his wife’s loyalty into question but had also implied that Geta was a weak ruler, unable to control his own household. The thought made his blood boil.

“What would you have me do?” he asked, his voice low.

“Demote him. Remove him from his position. Let it be known that you will not tolerate slander against your Empress.”

Geta narrowed his eyes. “And if others see this as an act of weakness? A sign that I am blinded by my love for you?”

“Let them see it as a warning,” she countered. “Let them know that your loyalty to your wife is unwavering and that you will not allow anyone to sow baseless discord in your court.”

Her words appealed to Geta’s pride, and she could see the gears turning in his mind. After a long silence, he nodded slowly. “Very well. The senator will be dealt with. I’ll ensure his removal will be public and soon.”

Relief washed over her, though a part of her felt dissatisfied about simply just having the senator removed from his position. The senator had meddled in her marriage, made her husband watch every move she made for days now, and he deserved to face more severe consequences for it. The senator has a daughter around her age, she felt certain the senator was likely hoping to get her pushed aside to potentially make way for his daughter to get close to Geta, for her to be the next Empress of Rome. Geta’s wife seethed silently at the thought of someone replacing her, of someone attempting to steal her position. She thought about paying Caracalla a visit and informing him of the treacherous senator in their midst. He would certainly give her the dramatic reaction she wants.

Geta rose from his seat, crossing the room to stand before her. He cupped her face in his hands, his gaze softening. “You are right. I should never have allowed his words to poison my mind. You are my empress, my wife. No one will come between us again”

She smiled faintly, leaning into his touch and calming for a moment. “And I will always stand by your side Geta. But we must stand together, against anyone who seeks to divide us.”

Geta kissed her then, fierce and possessive, as if to reaffirm their bond. She let herself melt into the embrace, even as a small voice in the back of her mind wondered if she should push for more to be done about the senator. 

~~~~

reader can't take out her frustrations on Geta so she will take it out on the senator who started all of this instead lol

[raayllum]

some of this will inevitably get repeated/fleshed out further when i get to my Callum-Rayla Viren-Lissa comparison/parallels/contrast meta BUT I think Lissa is so fascinating because like

We know she was from Del Bar, but have zero indication that she was a warrior. She played piano and wore perfume and had glasses. She's portrayed almost delicately. At the same time, there must be some steel in 1) her sense of self ("I think she needed to leave for herself, to be happy, somehow") and 2) in general in order for someone like Viren to attracted to her, and for her to be attracted to him in turn.

Viren describes her as "the smartest person [he'd] ever met," which is no small thing from someone who heavily prides himself on his intelligence and assumes he is smarter / knows better than a good chunk of the people around him (most of the time). This intelligence is also something Soren remarks upon as a tool in Viren's arsenal ("he's smart, and the way he talks...") in terms of Viren having the ability to be charming and to present in the way he desires to be seen (important, intelligent, valuable).

We see that Viren is bad at / generally doesn't value emotional intelligence (something that begins changing in S4 thanks to Terry and has completely switched on by S6 with Soren). So I think Lissa must've had both a quick tongue/academic or political intelligence that would appeal to him to receive the "smartest person" distinction, as well as I think probably being good with people / having a genuine but strong well of emotional intelligence underneath.

I also don't think it's likely that Lissa was very well versed / had a strong interest in magic, despite Viren being a dark mage, otherwise I think it's likely the corruption face/result wouldn't have caught her so off guard. It also meant that Viren had to woo her on the basis of other, nicer parts of himself rather than his more ambitious, dark magic-y side (why tell her about the worst dark magic can do to others or your own body, after all), making the latter become what fully destroyed them, and Lissa only seeing how far it'd go when it was much, much too late.

[combeferres-mothematics]

Hear the bells toll, the sad sound rings

Telling tale of a rebellion in spring

Upon that fateful barricade, where people failed to lend their aid

Young men fought their brave crusade

Leader young, though brave and true

Oft likened to gods and marble statue

The cause of Liberty did pursue

Fought tirelessly for world brand-new

One of science, always asking “Why?”

Along their leader fought and died

Pierced three times by bayonet, turned his eyes to face the sky 

This man was their gentle guide

Holding tight with all his heart

Without him the group would fall apart

With friends in need he’ll never wait

Centre completes the Triumvirate

Bold to wear a vest of red

Connection to groups widespread

Never a lawyer was his cry

Bahorel was the first to die

Prouvaire, a man who seemed quite shy 

Almost traded for a spy

His friends to tie a flag had not time

So must end the poet’s rhyme

Working man who helped to lead

Through hard work did succeed

Orphan who taught himself to read and write

Died alongside his family that night

Gamin courageous, went outside

 powder and ammunition to provide

Eleven years is not that long

Much too soon he ends his song

Mirror, and magnet, pulse he checks

Walking through rain? He objects

Tip of nose is rubbed with cane

A cheerful hypochondriac he remains

One greets bad luck as though a friend

Joly will his accidental wounds mend

The Eagle will soon take his flight

Just before the dawn's first light

Of the group there’s one man more

Through most of the battle he did snore

He was not there for the cause

Instead to gaze upon the leader in awe

His friends all killed, Enjolras stands alone

Face drawn tight and heart of stone

Just as he’s about to die

“Permits-tu?” A voice does cry

Fingers softly intertwined

Smile for a moment shines

Skeptic glad that he awoke

Both lives gone with burst of smoke

[uncharted-constellations]

The most anticipated link and zelda, cartoon verse of course

No funny page tho, just imagine excuse me princess echoing in your brain chamber

[xxplastic-cubexx]

cherik coparenting wanda and pietro?!?!?! share with the class!!!!!!

chat youre going to kick my ass for this but i dont have the exact issues on hand rn i can only summarize that during the ultimate comic runs, charles and erik run the mansion together for a while and look after A School's Worth of mutants (of which include wanda and pietro)

[novella-november]

Is this fanfic friendly? I feel like an outlier.

I guess this is my sign it's time to throw together a FAQ post to link to lol.

Yes, every event for this blog is fanfic friendly :D

Though as I mentioned on my Ominous October post, for events that include multiple short stories, I encourage everyone to flex their creativity and take one of their planned short story fanfics, and at least *attempt* to turn one of them into something entirely original; rebuilding a character and story from the ground up to stand on its own two legs is no easy feat, and that is what makes it so fun!

It really gets your creative gears turning, to make an "au of an existing material" to be something entirely original, and you can be pleasantly surprised about the things you come up with!

As a few people say, its not just a matter of "filing the serial numbers off" -- you have to add in just as much *or more* as what you take out when you are turning a fanfiction into something that is original and completely divorced from its original source material / inspiration, and that is a hard, but very rewarding challenge!

Obviously, this is not a requirement (there's no hard requirements for any of the challenges, other than no cheating, including no using AI),

but if you would like an extra challenge for the short story events and you're planning on doing entirely fan-fiction, I highly recommend trying it out at least once, and seeing where it leads you--

you may find yourself pleasantly surprised by what you find down that rabbit hole!

[cuteniaarts]

Small drawing collection of my latest creation Emran as a teenager/freshly minted Air Acolyte, for my dear partner in unhinged OC shenanigans @katkastrofa, as promised <3

[zukkaoru]

love using my knowledge of the bible to write fics. don't so much love having to look up every verse i want to reference in king james version instead of whichever of the three other versions i memorized verses in because if this character is 27 in ~2012 he definitely didn't grow up reading the berean study bible

[juliareed]

Mr. Sark has assumed control of your mother's operation— Please stop referring to her as my mother. Therefore, Ms. Derevko must know what he's looking for. // You were hired to kill me? Who hired you? Who put a contract on my life? Derevko. Irina Derevko.

[malkaleh]

JOAN.

Dauphine of France. Princess of Scotland. Princess of Albion. Queen Regnant of Scotland. Queen of England. The Half Breed Heathens Whore Of A Wife. My Darling Wise Thistle. Little Wise Eyed. Jeanne.

Though Joan’s father died not six months after her birth his love for her was remarked upon - indeed it was said that he could hardly bear to be apart from her. His death was something her mother Mary never recovered from despite two subsequent marriages and the reminder of him in her black haired and grey eyed daughter seems to have been a mixture of grief and solace to her. Joan proved to be a serious child - interested in books, archery and riding but with a keen talent for music she was included in and educated in rulership from a young age, particularly by her paternal grandmother who remarked that she saw ‘very much of Marguerite of Navarre in her’ she was excellent at politics, at rulership and in her concern and interest in the lives of all her people but she was not warm and nor did she have the charisma and ability to draw the eye of her mother, something that drew unfavourable comparisons. Her marriage was made out of pragmatism on her part and no one was more surprised than Joan when it turned into love.

(inspired in part by this edit by @emilykaldwen (ABBY MY BELOVED))

[radiaking]

Hmm yeah smth smth smth human commoner origin. Smth smth smth. thought he was doing a Good Thing for some organization but was really just a fall guy. Smth smth smth. Was gonna be arrested for whatever he did but was instead conscripted to the wardens. Smth smth smth. HoF!coop.

[impossible-rat-babies]

me taking whm stuff and sticking in othard to make lore for eyrie’s family like

[hellguarded-moved]

≥ INCOMING TRANSMISSION FROM: @hellhunted ( "SOURCE" );

' don't talk like one of them. ' [ oof, this one too for haru/ig ]

there was a switch that was flipped everytime they— he —left the privacy of the compound to take on whatever mission they were assigned by none other than koharu's own uncle. although lately, these tasks mostly fell on the young fox's shoulders— ignis was told to do nothing but to simply be a good watch dog. ensure things went smoothly, both from koharu's side of execution and that their adversaries didn't harm her.

the elder kitsune likely had a much easier time breaking the canid's psyche than his own niece's. was it because they were family? that he treated her... just a bit nicer? or because ignis had been a stray dog fending for himself for as long as he could remember, making it easier to tug on the more feral strings of his heart? whichever it was, the hellhound didn't see through his superior's ulterior motives. still, life was, for the most part, simply living day by day, trying to survive. he really had no grand visions of much, if anything— even his earlier plans to travel once koharu was all grown up were slowly becoming forgotten the more they got involved in... this.

he didn't mind. the blood was but something to be washed off later. the yelps and screams were filtered out, falling on deaf ears. he's always been a predator, taking lives in order to survive had been easy.

the same couldn't have been said about his companion, though, it seemed. as someone who'd grown up in a loving family circle, provided for since birth, loved... well, it was just a tad more difficult, he supposed. she was like a domesticated cat, if he had to use a metaphor.

" stop taking it so personally, " he groaned, shoulders drooping as he rolled his eyes and callously yanked the gun free from the vixen's hands, and shot the man that was their— her —target straight between the eyes, no hesitation. a weak splatter of blood now stained his cheek, turning towards the other with a cold stare— uncharacteristic to his otherwise natural warmth. " you don't even know these people, are you gonna keep hesitating like that? get ahold of yourself, " he spat out, tossing the gun aside with little care; it clattered to the ground, the sound louder than it needed to be. but what did it matter? everyone except them in the room was dead.

turning on a heel, he saw no point in lingering around. already a few steps ahead; surely koharu would follow? " don't worry, though. i'll let shinjou know that it was your work, i'm not—— " don't talk like one of them. he froze, and the discomfort at hearing those words was obvious enough in the way his shoulders tensed up. it took him a good minute or two to properly take in those words; but eventually, he turned around. slowly.

the look in his eyes was different than before. still somewhat distant, but... worried? like he didn't recognize himself. " ...? " a weak noise caught in his throat. what hurt more was the bitter reminder that she'd asked him before already to not be this way. and yet, it... came so naturally. cold, merciless worth tumbling past his lips with zero filter, unable to stop them. unable to think about more than to simply carry out whatever wishes the current order head had, and then just... forget, once they were back home.

after all, that was all it was, right? just a job.

" s-sorry... really. i don't really know what came over me. can we talk about it at home? "

[abyssembraced]

((I think it's really funny that I keep wanting to make Hollow Knight verses for my non-Hollow Knight muses. Like-- the HK rp community is very small. Ghost is probably always gonna be written in crossovers more often than in their canon verses.

And Yet, I make my others Bug. Agsgdhfhsh))

[in-fair-verona-we-set-our-scene]

So now that I think of it, I've been sort of assuming that like... if your average slasher serial killer or even just your more general thriller/horror movie killer were in the TMA universe, they'd end up a Fear Avatar or at least Fear-touched. Which makes sense since they're inflicting Fear, usually quite theatrically and with a theme, on to people who are then scared and traumatized.

But with a bit more thought, I'm not so sure.

Obviously the more supernatural killers could be Fear Avatars or manifestations. Demons, vengeful ghosts, witches, monsters, gods. Killers formed by intense trauma might also become a kind of Avatar maybe, especially if they become mythologized by observers. But for horror villains that are just... kinda fucked up human people, I don't know if they could draw the Fears to empower them. It would really depend on the individual.

Because being a Fear Avatar seems to require a certain amount of fear itself. Nikolai steals people's skin, their "identity" and names, clearly hungry for some kind of identity. Jude was terrified of losing Agnes. Mike chose the Vast out of necessity so probably was somewhat scared when he jumped, but he was just scared of the Spiral more. Oliver was scared of the nihilism of the End. Simon is constantly acting as if he IS important for all he crows about the existential meaninglessness of life. I could go on, but you get the point here.

Like, the term "awe" comes from "awful" which originally was used for things that were so great and terrible they inspired fear as much as reverence, which is a pretty good summary of how people worship the Fears. The fear is a part of the worship. And Fears are stated to feed on their Avatars just as much as their victims. To become an Avatar, you need to have that kind of terror deep in your heart in order to start paying it forward, or else the Fears won't even see you. While some horror villains fall into this formula, a lot of them don't!

No, in a great many horror movies I'd bet it likely be the survivors that were more likely to become Fear Avatars. People who have been so deeply, deeply touched by that kind of fear as to have it change them on a fundamental level, and in a traditional slasher formula frequently turn that violence on their attacker to survive.