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sharkboywrites · 1 year ago

Note

please, a sal fisher x autistic male reader

ur writing is so good and I wish I could write like you. lots of love! <3

Sal Fisher With an Autistic Male S/O

A/N: Yayyy writing for Sally Face I love this game sm, I'm considering replaying it (I need to but it on my switch tho). I just love this game and all of the characters, it holds my heart, so exited to write for it, Sorry it got a lil angsty at the end, but I guess we all know how the game ends :(

Male Reader, Autistic Reader

The two of you probably met through school

You were the 'weird" quiet kid, didn't talk a lot, needed some help in class, and all around didn't have many friends

It was the average school day, the average torture of high school, when Sal showed up

A new kid from New Jersey is what you overheard from all the other kids, but you figured with your luck a new student wouldn't take any type of interest in you

That was until you saw him

A shorter boy with blue hair and a prosthetic mask

He was in your geometry class, and since the rest of the desks and tables were filled up, except for yours because you wanted to sit by yourself and nobody else wanted to sit with you, he sat right next to you

Normally the popular groups of kids would beg the new student to sit with them, find some way to open up a seat, but not this time

But not with Sal, his prosthetic mask and rather cold and blunt demeanor putting everybody else off

Not you though, you knew what it was like to be different

You didn't mind his mask, or his personality, in fact you could relate to him, not that you started talking to him at first, you were still too scared

As the year went on, the two of you did start talking a little bit, chats about the lessons, how much you despised the teacher, and even giving each other the homework answers when you forgot to do it

You saw him in the hallways and on the way to lunch, hanging out with his friends like Larry and Ash, but you never joined them

You would probably sit with them at lunch, that is if you went to lunch

The cafeteria was way to loud, so you were able to sit in the counselors office for lunch instead

It was after Sal defended you from Travis that you actually started to become closer

The two of you talked more often, found you both have similar interests, and bonded on what made the both of you different from everybody else

You even started to get closer with his friend group and finally felt like you belonged there

It was in your junior year when the two of you got together, although you kept it under the radar for obvious reasons (Travis)

You'd spend days going over to the apartment, meeting his dad, listening to him play the guitar, petting Gizmo, playing video games, and doing the usual spooky apartment activities

You never really got into their shenanigans, sometimes Sal would tell you all about them and sometimes he would be more hesitant

But the whole bologna incident was hard to hide, good thing you never ate those sandwiches

It took a while before he took his mask off in front of you, but when he did he was a bit worried you'd leave him completely

It took a lot of reassuring and comforting that day, but he was more assured and felt a lot better, more comfortable around you

After high school you didn't live together, but you were still close

You'd come over to the boy's place as often as you could, to the point they joked that you lived there

Larry and Todd would poke fun of you and Sal about your relationship, but you would do the same to Todd and Neil

When Ash showed back up, you couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy with the time they were spending together, although you trust the both of them and would probably never admit it

Of course, with Sal doing his best to keep you out of the paranormal activity, you didn't know when things started to go down hill

When it came out about the murders, you were terrified

You testified up and down that Sal would never do such a thing, but the evidence was all there

Before he was gone, he told you that he had to do it, although you couldn't really understand what he was trying to say

And just like that, you were alone again, people constantly bugging you, trying to get information for whatever true crime podcast they were running, even though you tried to ignore it

Once again you were alone, constantly pointed and poked at, and now Sal wasn't here to comfort you

Uggh I hurt my own feelings at the end. I heard there's supposed to be a second game at some point, which I'm super exited for, ty for reading and have a nice day

#sharkboywrites #male reader #x male reader #sf x reader #sally face x reader #sally face x male reader #sal fisher #sal fisher x reader #sal fisher x male reader #sal fisher imagines #sal fisher headcanons

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ghouldtime · 9 months ago

Text

Ghost'ed

Been thinking about literal Ghost! Ghost. Maybe it's playing too many ghost hunting games or watching too many shows but I cannot stop thinking about it. You also cannot convince me this man wouldn't be a restless spirit. His entire life is troubled and I don't see him going down in a peaceful way or leaving until he feels the job is done - and likely ending up trapped as a result

I wrote this at work so sorry in advance for any typos or slip ups!

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

Ghost hunting wasn’t exactly what most people would list in "Top ten relaxing hobbies" - but it's not like you were most people. You were simply you. The same you who thought spending your time speculating about spooky specters was one of the best ways to pass by those few stretches of free time that could be all too fleeting in the hellscape known as adulthood.

The stares that followed you when you announced paranormal investigation as a hobby was something you knew all too well. After all, telling someone you’re a ghost hunter only stood as a slightly more socially acceptable version of telling them you believed in bigfoot (you did, but that’s beside the point). The dozens of cheesy TV shows certainly popularized it but they did little to help with the perception of it.

When the face of popular ghost hunting media was full of grown men who screamed like a squirrel high on helium at every little thump of a house settling, it did little to help what people automatically thought of when they heard of your unique hobby. Plenty still turned their noses up, scoffed slightly as they rolled their eyes and sneered, “Aren’t you too old to be doing that?”

Or worse. They gave a tight-lipped smile, nodded, and crinkled their eyes as they said, "Oh, interesting." While the tension in their body told of holding back laughter or wanting to bolt right on out of there, far far away from you.

Quite frankly, you didn't care what they said anymore as it was your life to live, not theirs. You’d seen enough to know without a fraction of a doubt that there was more beyond the veil of life itself, hiding just out of sight. The hundreds of hours you spent wandering dark hallways and dilapidated ruins with nothing but your flashlight and ghost box proved otherwise. At least it proved it to you.

Proving it to others was a horse of another color. Skeptics who spit their criticism loud enough to deafen even the most positive prevalent of voices in the community were a dime a dozen. Unfortunately, their existence was as certain as the sky is blue. Skepticism was apart of human nature, after all. They would always exist as long as the day and night kept up their eternal dance.

Convincing them was a fruitless effort. You'd sooner be able to convince hippos to fly than you'd convince them of the truth you knew. Trying to get everyone to agree, to acknowledge the paranormal, was hopeless and something you certainly weren't going to waste your life on no matter what they called your or what they said.

As far as you were concerned, being paid to sit in the dark alone and find evidence of life beyond the grimy waters of death itself was a pretty sweet gig. The naysayers could seethe in their own jealousy all they wanted because at the end of the day, you’re getting paid to do what you love. That they never could take away from you.

They'd never be able to have the same thrill that you did as you took on another case, ready to see even more of what the phantasmal realm had to offer.

Anticipation, nervousness, and excitement rolled together in a palpable energy you hid beneath a calmer exterior every time you took a job. There always would be that wonder there, the question of what exactly you might find dangling just out of reach, the hope that maybe, just maybe you might see even more than you already have. Another chance to investigate meant yet another night spent lurking in the shadows, tirelessly trying to find more evidence of the great world beyond the grave and its inhabitants. Tonight certainly would be no different.

An older couple quite reluctantly booked an appointment for a standard investigation after mysterious things that they really could not explain, no matter how they went about it, happened time and time again. They'd tried to ignore it, they said, but it only got worse.

Footsteps that echoed through the house at first in a gentle patter had become confident strides. When they went to look, no one was there. Doors that used to slowly creak open, as if blown by the wind, instead started to rattle the frame with force as they opened or slammed in the middle of the night. The husband looked particularly miffed when he groused about the TV going on at odd hours of the night, while his wife seemed more concerned about the possibility of someone having broken in and the fact that it kept doubling in intensity as time went on. The list went on and on about their complaints ranging from things being moved around to always finding a light turned on in a room in the middle of the night. There most certainly was something going on if all of what they were saying was true.

The glaring parade of red flags that easily would send others running for the hills lured you in. Like a dog with a scent, you weren't going to drop the trail, oh no. You were there to sink your teeth and claws in and not let go. Come hell, heaven, or high water - nothing would stopping you.

True to your title, you were a paranormal investigator which warranted a lot more work and professionalism than the standard ghost hunters you saw on TV who couldn't tell the difference between a gust of wind and a ghost. Your job was to research, conduct a proper paranormal investigation, and provide your evidence - or lack of, if it was truly devoid of haunting. But here hardly sounded like it.

Taking your time and reassuring them that you were, indeed, a professional, you went over all the usual questions with them: when did this start, how old is your house, any history of deaths in it, have you acquired any new items recently, do you have any items that were second hand or antique, any family heirlooms in the house, was it in any particular location, etc etc.

Every angle had to be considered, especially the mundane. Plenty of times, people just had a poorly constructed house, deeply held superstitions, and a touch of paranoia to make for a perfect combination of nothing happening at all. That didn’t seem to be the case here, however. While none of their answers pointed in a clear direction of what it might be, it still all pointed to signs of something unworldly happening. But that's what you were there for. To determine if there actually was a ghost, why it was there, and maybe who it was (if things went well and it felt like cooperating).

You bid them a good night as they headed off with family friends in a beat up convertible, chattering away without a care in the world as if they didn’t have a paranormal parasite problem. At least they were going to go enjoy their night by having an evening out instead of breathing down your neck like some of those who hired you. Locking the door, you trudged in with your gear and began the initial inspection with practiced ease.

A haunting in a house as young and modern as theirs was quite unusual. Open, airy rooms completed with white, sleek, almost eye-hurtingly clean interiors made up the entirety of the house. Even as night crawled higher and higher into the sky, pulling its dark cloak over the land, the house stayed bright. Nothing about it said haunted or caught your eye. The scariest thing there was likely the heating bill.

As far as your research showed, there hadn't been a death in it or on the land. The owners also seemed quite appalled at the idea of antiques (go figure) so that went right out the window, too. Normally there might be some stashed somewhere that they weren't thinking about, like the attic, but this house didn’t even have that. No basement, no attic, no creepy graveyard in the back; it was a normal, suburban house that shouldn’t have anything going on.

Perusing the house at a leisurely pace, you browsed each and every room with a thorough consciousness of finding something, anything, that could possibly have started it. Yet you turned up empty handed. Everything was as pure and alabaster as the marble countertops and the expensive sleek metal furniture.

Oh well, not every job would be easy. And not every haunted house was obligated to look run-down and rustic. Some ghosts just had more upper class tastes - or were unfortunate enough to be stuck in an eyesore like this. Maybe a ghost would add some actual personality to their home...

Seeing as they'd said there wasn't exactly a rhyme or reason as to where things would happen, you decided a central room was your best bet. The living room was open enough for everything and an easy place any spirits could find. It had plenty of room for your equipment and the open layout meant you had a great vantage point for the whole house.

Preparing your gear came as naturally as breathing to you, the tasks you've done dozens of times over were a matter of habit. Moving through the motions was your second nature as you worked, not batting an eye as you checked batteries and strategically stationed your gear. It only took a matter of minutes to have your cameras, light system, motion activated interactable objects, ghost box, and the rest of your fancy gadgets set up all around the room.

Placed on the coffee table was your heaviest piece of equipment - your modified spirit box that you had made some special adjustments to just to make sure your results were as accurate as possible. The broken antenna and attached amp weren't standard, nor were the noise reducers, but they stood as a testament to why you were a professional and why you kept getting called out to different places. You knew how to get results and tuned every tiny thing to your needs. There was no room for error or doubt alike in an already uncertain field.

Double checking everything was ready to go once more once more, you plunged the room into somewhat true darkness as you drew the curtains shut and pressed the button on the spirit box, causing it to crackle to life. Speeding through the static of radio stations, it scanned the many frequencies in a blur, far too fast for any natural noise to come through. The whirring of it evened out into a constant, muffled background noise that you’d spent countless hours listening to. Its familiar hum lulled you into a relaxed state, your heart as steady as your calm breaths despite the slight buzz of familiar adrenaline you always felt when you first started. A small beep signaled the successful activation of the digital thermometer as you walked around in a slow, even pace, checking all around.

Taking a deep breath, you began as you always had. In a confident, but even tone you called out, “Is there anyone with me right now?”

....

........

Silence.

The static of the spirit box continued to filter through in its usual constant churning hum of white noise. Typical. Many supernatural beings wouldn't want to interact, especially not at first. You don't blame them. If a stranger barged into your house and demanded if you were there, pestering you with questions as threw their belongings around, you'd not want to answer them either. That wasn’t even considering that many were so unused to people hearing them or trying to talk to them, not at them. They didn't exactly register on the same frequency that humans did most of the time.

Walking around the room, your boots echoed on the tile flooring. Your footsteps ricocheted off of the high ceilings, amplified by the lofty ceiling and wonderful acoustics this house apparently had. Keeping your attention ever shifting, you kept alert for signs of anything happening. Looking too long in the dark and expecting things to happen would only yield false results and cause paranoia. You knew far better than to do that.

Nothing lit up, nothing beeped, nothing changed. There was conclusively nothing happening for the first few, long minutes as everything kept at an unwavering constant. Visiting each room, you rechecked their temperatures and tried to find anything amiss or out of place. Yet all seemed well, still, and normal.

Only when you crossed the hallway back into the living room after a quick visit to the bedrooms did your hair stand on end. A chill ran down your spine, the once warm air now holding the barest bite of cold on the edge. Holding up the thermometer, you narrowed your eyes at the steady decrease. While it wasn't quite freezing, it kept dropping and dropping. Numbers ticked lower and lower, your hair stood further on end as a small shiver ran through you as the chill dipped lower and lower. Bingo. First sign of activity of the night. It wasn’t much but it was plenty to know that something was happening here.

Despite the crisp chill, nothing else shifted in the room. Silence prevailed behind the distant drone of your equipment; mainly the comforting, steady typical static of the spirit box. Even the appliances seemed to have gone quiet, exchanging their usual low thrumming rhythm for a break that suspended them in a noiseless limbo.

Your shifting movements echoed far louder than you would have liked as you paced around the room, looking for something new, anything. An actual tangible reaction you could record would be just what you needed but so far, the haunt was holding out. “What is your name?” You asked, keeping your voice as steady as you can as you tried to switch it up.

Continual feedback from the spirit box sounded as steady as can be. Still, there was no voice trying to get through it. The fabricated noise reigned supreme as it did its job, whirring away. Pressing your lips into a thin line, the smallest hint of a frown tugged at your lips as disappointment flickered through you. Okay, that's fine. It usually took a few tries anyways.

A faint, sparkling crackle escaped from it as you heard one, tiny word in a rumbling timbre. One, single word that halted you mid step, your head snapping towards the machine.

“Ghost.”

Doing a double take, a grin split across your face as your heart jumped with joy. A response! A true, actual response. Not that it exactly answered your question but it meant something was listening.

There was something here!

Nearly tripping over your own feet, you scampered over to your beloved machine. Your eyes fixated on the glowing orange screen, gleaming with glee.

“W-what’s your name?” You repeat a bit louder unable to hide the excited tremble in your voice or hands, figuring the ghost likely didn't hear you right.

Static white noise continued for a few seconds, the little x in the corner flashed once, twice, before it lit up solidly.

“Ghost.”

The smile you held dropped only for a fraction of a second before you cleared your throat. Well, maybe your slight stutter and excitement got in the way. You did talk fast when excited, after all. Taking a deep breath, undeterred as can be, you repeated in a far steadier voice, “What is your name?”

This time you made sure to enunciate every single syllable, speaking clear and confidently into the air.

One flashing X glowed in the corner of the screen. Another flash. A third. Fourth. Fifth.

Yet again, the deep voice came a bit louder and rougher this time. A thick Mancunian accent that barely picked up through the filter didn't dull the single word you were trying to avoid, “Ghost.”

Okay. Your brows furrowed deeper, your nose wrinkling slightly as your heart sank. The minor disappointment couldn't be kept off of your face as you really had hoped to hear something else. Approach one clearly isn't working.

Maybe he didn't speak English. Or maybe he wasn't sure that he was dead. Whatever. There was a ghost and he was answering, that's what mattered, you reminded yourself forcefully until the smile came back to your face and the smallest bit of a headache dissipated. Focus on that. Not on the slight annoyance you felt and the agitated twitch of your fingers.

Exhaling, you pursed your lips. Your grip retightened on your flashlight as you racked through questions in your mind, trying to find something that it would have to answer differently too.

“Can you do something?”

Hopeful, your eyes trailed around the room, praying that maybe the ghost would do something like interact with the many objects scattered about, or even the motion sensors.

Nothing happened for a few long moments, silence once again prevailing in the otherwise empty house.

Orange light flashed from the spirit box as the X lit up again, only for a second before the dreaded word repeated itself.

“Ghost.”

Before you could ask what that even meant, or curse it out for that matter, the spirit box and your flashlight shut off, plunging you into true darkness. The flashlight nearly flew from your hands in surprise as you flinched instinctually, your heart leaping into your throat. Frantically flickering the button of your trusty tool did nothing as you desperately tried to turn on your one source of light with the only way you knew how - only to be met with the continual sight of empty, non-shining bulbs.

Curses spilled from your lips in all the languages you knew as you fumbled for a battery pack, only to find them missing. What? But you swore that they were right there -- ugh, nevermind. This just wasn't going to be your night.

The initial panic subsided as the chill left the air, the residual regular warmth of the house sinking into the room as if blown in by a lazy breeze. Your hair still stood on end as you walked around with cautious, hesitant steps, having given up on the flashlight. There wasn't coming back from that.

It's only when you approached the spirit box, trying to turn it on to no avail, that you realized what he meant. You asked him to do something and he obliged.

He ghosted you.

God fucking damn it.

As you glared at the air in frustration, threw your hands up and personally cursed the fiend, you could've sworn you heard a resonating chuckle behind you as breath brushed against the nape of your neck in a way that sent shivers down your spine for a whole new reason.

Part Two

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inamindfarfaraway · 10 months ago

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Evidence that Hazel Wells is autistic:

She loves routine, needs it to feel secure and adjusts poorly to changes from what she knows and her plan, e.g. her stress from moving to a new city and school, struggling to form bonds with her classmates and not having her promised talk with Anthony driving her to run away and be miserable enough to qualify for fairy godparents; wanting to replicate her relationship with her brother with Jasmine; learning how to deal with them both having evolved when he visits; her gut instinct itself says that a tour meticulously structured in advance is her dream holiday and urges her to follow her godparents’ offered one of Fairy World

She has special interests in geology, horror movies, dinosaurs and Prime Meridian Love (and hats?), not just loving them intensely and expressing that through learning and sharing intimate knowledge of them, but using them to understand and navigate relationships, e.g. wanting to watch horror films with Jasmine because that’s her definition of a bonding activity from her routine with Antony; inviting her friends to a book club reading her manga as another bonding activity; wishing Kenueth to life to do a romantic-coded activity; naming her rocks, drawing faces on them and talking to them, possibly originating in a history of having few friends

Her fairies’ default object disguise form is a pair of fidget tools and their entire purpose is to give her what she wants

She frequently feels anxious and overthinks things, especially regarding social dynamics, e.g. her fear of Anthony forgetting about her while he’s away; getting overwhelmed by her peers in the cafeteria in “Teacher’s Pal”, fleeing and needing to steel herself simply to enter it at the end of the episode, not even planning to talk to anyone; being desperate to impress Winn and worrying that her home is inadequate for their standards, on a basis of nothing Winn has done; worrying that her geology presentation will be inadequate and wishing for a special stone; choosing to undergo countless time loops to try to avoid any embarrassment; worrying that an online quiz invalidates her close friendships

She nonetheless is said to be “mature” for her age in both “Fly” and “Teacher’s Pal” by Angela and herself

She has extremely high empathy despite not always easily understanding people, e.g. wishing to understand Dev; making selfless wishes on Founder’s Day whenever she sees unhappy kids; enabling Winn to experience their own interest in Patty Possum’s Party Playground the way they want and then empathizing with Patty about fearing abandonment and still loving people when they’re not around; continuing to be kind to Dev at the Dimmsonian and in “Best of Luck” after he twice reverts back to selfishness and malice and believes their friendship to be over; wishing for Marcus to get to be on a paranormal investigation TV show

She has a strong sense of justice, e.g. being so affected by learning about pollution that she starts a local environmentalist movement; vehemently opposing Dale’s corruption; rallying her friends to stand up to Vicky; angrily lashing out at Dev when she thinks or learns that he’s betrayed her

She can take things too literally and lack theory of mind, e.g. getting offended by Jasmine saying that she could dance alone “near” her partnered friends and holding that grudge for most of the episode; jumping to the conclusions that Dev is insulting her when he calls her “anomaly” and willingly, knowingly helping his father be evil; leaving him alone when he orders her to on his birthday rather than questioning if what he says he wants is what he actually wants or needs, since he’s clearly distraught and she knows that his issues revolve around abandonment, neglect and loneliness

She can disregard social norms when consumed by passion, e.g. interrupting the museum guide to share her own knowledge of dinosaurs and grabbing his microphone; infodumping about the plot of her manga in detail after Jasmine tells her not to; stealing Mr Guzman’s hat just because she likes it so much

She has emotional breakdowns that lead to drastic, bad decisions and could be read as meltdowns, e.g. packing a suitcase and running away; remorsefully attempting to sacrifice her life to restore potatoes to Earth

She loves official documents and finds the Department of Motor Vehicles relaxing for its rigid structure and monotony

She samefoods with chips/fries and other potato products, so passionate about them as to mention them when introducing herself to her classmates and have a whole episode dedicated to her wanting to eat only them; this is a notable choice because chips have a mild, neutral base flavour, are often standardized by producers like restaurant chains and served with the same condiments, making their eating experience predictable (and she isn’t shamed for being a ‘picky eater’! Her parents and Mother Nature say that it’s wonderful that she finds so much joy in potatoes and gently convince her to give her body what else it needs too)

She also hates trail mix for being “chaotic” with all its different flavours mixed together, and firmly prefers oatmeal cookies to normal cookies

Autism is genetic and her father likewise exhibits several autistic traits

She considers Jasmine casually striking up a conversation with a stranger and singing in public without self-consciousness to make her courageous, no matter what other fears she has

She continues to think of herself as “the new kid” for a good few months post-move and feels the internal need to prove her belonging in Dimmadelphia on Founder’s Day

She can’t comprehend how and why arbitrary, pointless social rivalries like the one between the band and orchestra groups exist

She repeatedly wishes for fantastical roleplaying adventures with her godparents, which give her excitement without stress or loss of control, as the stakes aren’t real and she always wins in the end (the “plot twist” we see Wanda add is the return of a villain from a previous adventure, still drawing on comfortable familiarity)

She has no interest in seeing more of Fairy World until Dev brings it up, strange for such a curious girl who adores her fairies - maybe out of aversion to an unknown, unpredictable setting?

When surrounded by clones of herself and asked to raise her hand if she’s real, she hesitates because she isn’t sure and doesn’t want to “deprive the real Hazel of being herself”, demonstrating high empathy, self-doubt and existential overthinking all at once; Wanda says, “Only the real Hazel would overthink whether she was real or not!”

I’m autistic and I relate to her enough to know

#and some people say that the World’s Most Autistic Little Girl doesn’t need fairy godparents #she could not more obviously be one crisis away from a nuclear meltdown #hazel wells #fop anw #fop a new wish #fairly oddparents #fop

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poppysicle · 8 months ago

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After best friend’s, Adrien and Marinette’s, ghost hunting Youtube channel blows up in popularity, they decide to expand their search for haunted places to the states.

The Chat Noir Crew will check out the most haunted places in the United States, will they be able to find evidence of paranormal activity in America (and their own feelings)?

Inspired by @art-the-f-up’s bugfeed unsolved au that i so dearly LOVE

this is my current baby rn if you like the concept, pls read it ‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )‧º·

#miraculous ladybug #adrinette #miraculous fanworks #miraculous ladybug fanfiction #mlb fic #miraculous au #my writing

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heliosobjections · 2 months ago

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in both your art and fics you portray phoenix in such a lovely, raw, compelling way that i personally think the aa fandom could learn a lot from. there's so much consideration for canon and media analysis and i love the way a lot of these wholly subvert the sometimes frustrating tropes that stem from shoehorning characters into having certain traits due to which archetype they fit into "best." thank you so much, genuinely, for sharing your work!! they're always such a delight to see/read and i hope to have the courage you do to post what i want without fear of being bullied out of what was meant to be a fun creative space

Thank you bunches <3. My best advice is to talk like you're the only one in the fandom.

Writing from the standpoint as someone who's only (fully) seen the Phoenix Wright Trilogy.

I think a lot of people stop judging Phoenix at: “He's the player character and we're meant to project ourselves onto him.” And while that's true, there's a reason why he's so naturally relatable and a character within his own right. Unlike, say… BotW/TotK Link (because I'm currently playing it again), he has a discernable and distinct personality, based on Shu Takumi and how he would interact with the world and people of Ace Attorney. He's written to be the Straight Man in a world of Funny Men. He's the most normal guy in this world, but is still ready to believe in the occult/paranormal and other weird AA shit before he's given any evidence that it actually exists, because he is still a part of this world. He serves as an effective conduit between the player and the game and helps suspend the player’s .

These concepts of Phoenix being the Sun to Miles’s Moon, or the Dog to his Cat, the Sunshine to his Grump, only serve to water down and needlessly separate two characters that are, in my opinion, more compelling when their similarities are considered. Phoenix is a mean, bitter man who has insulted even his own friends. He makes morbid and downright weird jokes, gets insecure about his appearance, and rarely puts his hands on people. He's sly, cunning, and sharp. He's polite enough to people's faces, but is judgemental in his monologue. But in those monologues he also has moments of genuine empathy or sympathy for friends and strangers. Because despite low-key being a jackass, he's a ride or die for anyone who needs him. Most of all, he’s intuitive, and an amazing judge of character.

To compare him to Miles. Both lawyers are strong-willed and intelligent, with their main goal in their profession being to find the absolute truth. They both have the capacity to be assholes but try their best to show people they care, mostly through their actions. They'll put themselves in physical and occupational danger for each other and other people. They’re both reserved and don’t speak about themselves much, but both can carry conversations under the right circumstances. They have a deep respect and trust in one another. They both acknowledge and appreciate romance without explicitly stating that’s what they want for themselves. I would even go as far to say they're both equally married to their jobs.

But what makes them different is class and experience. Unlike Miles, Phoenix is a rookie who doesn’t have a (known, recent) family history in criminal law; Miles had Gregory. And wouldn't have the means to study law; Miles had Gregory, then von Karma. The people they are/were surrounded by are different too, with Phoenix befriending Maya and other poorer clients— people without power. Miles was associated with people like von Karma, Damon Gant, and Lana Skye, all very powerful people.

After all of his connections crumbled (except Franziska), Phoenix and Miles shared connections/friends, especially Maya, Larry and Gumshoe. However his class status never lowers to Phoenix’s, and Phoenix’s never rises to Miles’s. That’s partially because of Phoenix’s narrative role as the underdog, and partially because of the fact that he will always be paid less as a private defense attorney with few cases than the state-appointed prosecutor.

Some smaller things they differ on: Miles lacks superstition (especially with spirit mediums because of his past). Where Phoenix is intuitive, Miles is logical. Phoenix is a lateral thinker and Miles is vertical. Miles is introverted and Phoenix… an ambivert.

I think the reason why Phoenix is so mischaracterized in fanon is one big thing: Subtlety. As I said at the beginning of this, Phoenix is written to be relatable. Therefore many of his character traits are subdued compared to characters like Maya, Miles, Franziska or Gumshoe. I need you to realize that Phoenix doesn't even laugh in the PWT. It's also why we have no backstory for him besides the class trial and Turnabout Memories. However the team speculates about his past, mostly describing him as an average, lower-middle class bachelor (with a dog??? I heard that once but can't find the interview so that's up in the air.). But for the most part they don't try to dictate what fans want to see in him. And despite Takumi's views that he might have studied sequential art or theater in college… Phoenix is only described in game as an “Art Student”. That is SO vague, he could've studied CHEMISTRY.

Ace Attorney canon is rich with characterization and I’ll always love it so much more than fanon. I hate how fanon makes Phoenix out to be incompetent, stupid, but cute and trying. That’s not him! I hate when people make him out to be just a complete asshole too! He’s just some dude! He’s a normal guy who was written in the 2000s! With disorders! And he’s Going Through It as we speak!

Funnily enough, I think the fact that Phoenix is so misunderstood and comes off as unlikeable to the audience the moment we’re not privy to his perspective is so fitting. What do you mean Beanix is too different from Phoenix? It’s still him!

This response is almost 2 pages long. In another post, I’ll describe my own views about Phoenix based on what I’ve talked about here.

Evidence below.

Common Knowledge evidence I didn't feel the need to/couldn't include:

All of Phoenix and Miles's connections should be clear to everyone. No need to explain. I also don't think there's much need to show that Phoenix and Miles trust and respect each other since it's literally the turning points of their relationship in JFA and T&T.

Narrative roles are difficult to explain without author's input, but easy to infer through analyzing all interactions between characters.

I CAN'T find the transcript for when you show Miles the picture of Dahlia but know that's what I'm referring to when I say Miles isn't superstitious. Phoenix and Miles have a conversation about spirit channeling being a sham.

"He could've studied chemistry" assuming Phoenix was getting a Bachelor of Art, there are plenty of majors that fall under that, including chemistry. Idk if that needed to be expanded on but... I over explain lol

Also I could've sworn I saw something somewhere that Suekane said he wanted to be work on manga too.

#witness testimonies #helio's objections #long post #meta #media analysis #phoenix wright trilogy #phoenix wright #wrightworth #In my opinion Phoenix is an unreliable narrator and also NOT the main character of Ace Attorney #long ass post i'm so sorry but in my defense i was prompted <3

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nice-and-accurate-fictions · 7 days ago

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Friends to lovers

Did you ever fall in love with your best friend but kept it to yourself because you didn’t want to lose said friend?

To Catch A Ghost, by anatomicgirl. Rated T, 17k. P. Feb 25.

Such an intriguing ghost story! Spooky and sweet in equal measure. Human AU in which friends Aziraphale and Crowley are vloggers dealing with paranormal phenomena. On their way to Tadfield they find themselves stuck alone in a cottage belonging to an old lady and her niece. Even skeptic Crowley has to eventually concede that the cottage is haunted. Obliviousness in action, this fic was lovely!

Ambisexual, by fishey_me. Rated G, 2k. P. Feb 25.

Very sweet human AU where Aziraphale has been pining for Crowley for 20 years.

You Can Stay In My Bed, If You Like, by AppleSeeds. Rated T, 3k. P. Jul 22.

Lovely human AU where Aziraphale and Crowley wake up together in Crowley's bed after Aziraphale's birthday party. Alcohol was involved. And Gabriel. Should they be alarmed? Mortified? Thrilled? Did anything happen? Let's find out while the two roommates snuggle a little closer to each other.

Friends Don't, by MissUnderstoodLyrics. Rated E, 33k. P. Dec 24.

Honestly, I can’t even begin to tell you how much I loved this story. In my comment on the last chapter I said that it was like an unexpected day off at work: precious, exciting, comfortable, you know it will be over all too soon but it’s one of those gifts that make life happier. In this enemies (meh!) to friends (ha!) to lovers (yay!) Crowley and Aziraphale work as advice columnists for two rival newspapers in Tadfield. The newspapers are bought by the same media company and our two heroes find themselves co-hosting a podcast. How will they cope? Oh, they’ll cope very well indeed, let me tell you. This fiction is uplifting and funny, the banter is clever without ever feeling like they are overdoing it, and the Ineffables react to their feelings in an insecure, fragile, but all too relatable -and fairly realistic- way. It never feels like the writer is pushing it. It became instantly one of my all time favourites.

On The Same Page, by Chekhov. Rated E, 117k. P. Sep 20.

Human AU where Aziraphale and Crowley are both writers. Aziraphale writes Christian books, Crowley writes adult books and they help each other out with their writing. Until they have to pretend to be married. This was such a good read, I really couldn't put it down. It's almost exclusively narrated in Aziraphale's POV but the mutual pining is evident and the build up to them resolving their issues is so bittersweet and deep and just lovely. There is a happy ending, don't worry. And the side story will really... aargghh, I won't spoil it for you, just read it.

#di-42's lists #good omens fanfiction #friends to lovers #mutual pining #good omens fiction recs #good omens fanfic rec #good omens fiction #good omens #good omens human au #human au

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musicfeedsmysoul12 · 2 months ago

Note

Bakugou's first thought when a series of murders began to feel centered around his auntie was that if he brought the murderers to justice, then his auntie would love him more, like she was supposed to.

And then evidence started turning up around the Bakusquad's agency's trash.

Turns out, when that happens and you have a long "history of violence", you become the first suspect. And Bakugou's concerns turn towards proving his innocence.

Nakamura Botan: Okay, so get this-

Kimura Nao: I hate when you start with that.

Nakamura Botan: Shush. Anyway, the murders were done by his parents.

Kimura Nao: What?!

*Theme Music Plays*

Nakamura Botan: Hello, I'm Nakamura Botan.

Kimura Nao: I'm Kimura Nao.

Both: And this is the Japanese History Podcast we started as a joke and it got popular.

KN: We did ask why it started as a joke, and that's cause we're history majors who discovered how wrong half our families are about histody. Including current historical events.

NB: Do you know how long it took to explain to my mom that the Paranormal Liberation War was not caused by heroes wanting bigger paychecks?

KN: Ugh I know. Thanks propoganda.

NB: Mhm. Now our new discussion today is the frame job of Bakugou Katsuki, aka the pro-hero Dynamight.

KN: Isn't he, like, not longer a hero?

NB: He's an inactive hero due to him being in intesive therapy but he is supposed to come back next month.

KN: Ah. I thought that was Red Riot?

NB: Both, actually. Anyway, Dynamight was infamously known for his aggression and brutal takedowns. He was termed in less polite spheres as Endeavour 2.0 due to this and his curtness towards the media. Some of his former classmates began avoiding him during this time, one of which was Atlas, Midroiya Izuku.

KN: Who just got to Number One hero when the rumours started, right?

NB: Correct. Now, what many don't know is that Dynamight and Atlas knew each other as kids. And Dynamight was a grade A douchebag to Atlas. I'm talking about physical and emotional bullying, attempts of sabotage and more.

KN: I kinda knew that. Atlas' book last year?

NB: Ooh, yes! All for One and One For All: A story of Brothers?

KN: Such a good read and a brutally honest discussion of Quirkless discrimination I didn't know about. Plus holy shit a transferable Quirk?

NB: There has been studies of similar Quirks popping up to. But not the point- Dynamight was a douche to Atlas. One of this ended in Atlas' mother, Midoriya Inko, cutting contact with the Bakugou family who were her best friends. There's an actual tweet from a former classmate concerning how 'Bakugou claimed Auntie loved him more and Midoriya had to have lied'.

KN:... she dumped them because her son was being bullied.

NB: Yeah... but it leads into the frame job. Seven years back, there was a string of murders surrounding Midoriya Inko. No one really knew how or why. Dynamight got himself on the team investigating.

KN: Was it to make Midoriya Inko love him again?

NB: *snort* Yeah it did. However evidence began pointing at Dynamight who began looking further into it.

KN: And like it was revealed it was a frame job somehow? How?

NB: Okay, so get this-

KN: I hate when you start with that.

NB: Shush. Anyway, the murders were done by his parents.

KN: What?!

#bnha #bnha au #the podcast is back lol #the bakugous framed their son hoping to get back in Inko's good graces #paint him as an unstable child they couldn't control #lol

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019v · 5 months ago

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if i remember to post this and not just keep it in my drafts forever because i'm too lazy to post this shit at 2 am. new oc dropped ace attorney style. meet river heights, my agent of chaos and most competent detective that is still alive and employed. kinowing this series' track record.

there's some info ab her as well as some au doodles & info below the cut if you're interested. stay silly >:)

about river: river heights is a detective known to be phoenix wright's friend, someone he met through his mentor before her untimely death. she is a detective helps him out sometimes when she's not actively involved in whatever is going on OR is busy doing something else entirely. <-- this happens a lot because she loves her job so much that it is 70% of her hobbies and takes up 90% of her free time.

she is very loosely based off of nancy drew because that was my favorite detective series growing up, and inspired the concept of river as a.. detective. yeah. her name is an explicit reference to that, and many of the notable cases she's solved during her long, LONG career (started unofficially at the age of 12, 13 and officially at around 15) are also inspired by the book series.

she is (or was, i suppose) romantically involved with mia fey and diego armando/godot.... polycule win forever and ever. i hope you guys enjoy her.

au doodles and info about them below vv

left: au where godot doesn't die in jail or wtv after bttb. river stays in the us instead of leaving to cope with her grief and gets to bully phoenix into breaking up with his toxic situationship (kristoph gavin.) so they can ruin his life.

center au: evil au where after everything that's happened to her river snaps and starts fucking shit up for everyone. hundreds die. thousands blackmailed. she becomes what she swore to oppose, and looks so hot doing it.

right au: instead of a regular detective, river is a paranormal detective! aka the phasmophobia au. ghost hunting is an actual recognized part of the law and legal proceedings, used to crack cases where there is seemingly no evidence left to find, and river is one of the best investigators out there. after getting disbarred, phoenix joins his best friend on these investigations - with the spirits of mia fey and godot staying behind to help as well?

#I REMEMBERED I DRAFTED THIS LAST NIGHT #my art #my oc #oc #ace attorney #aa #ace attorney oc #aa oc #phoenix wright #mia fey #prosecutor godot #oc x canon #idgaf yayyy #artists on tumblr #feel free to ignore the miscellaneous ramblings i just think it would be neat if you looked

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breey2776-blog · 3 months ago

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Listening to the Magnus Archives and I love Jon so far, like the best way to describe it is that he's a resident skeptic in a world and profession dealing with exclusively paranormal horror events, without being an annoying skeptic - which is difficult for a lot of media. He doesn't just say "that's wrong, next," he says "well, there is no significant evidence to say that this is real, but if it turns out correct God knows I'm documenting it correctly so we can consult relevant files in a convenient manner when the time comes." It's great to have a piece of horror media where someone rests between the extremes of active participant/full believer and complete non-believer to the point of frustration.

#tma podcast #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #also he's such a dramatic person #brother you don't need to voice act all of the reports

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ratatouillewastakendammit · 3 months ago

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A Human’s Touch

The roar of the wind was smothered by the clamorous slam of your door, but neither sound actually registered, muted by the possibilities whizzing through your brain like bullets. You looked to Bill in expectation, fearfully awaiting the explanation to whatever had made a creature like him ruffled.

“Well, as you know, I’m obviously an extremly powerful otherwordly entity, which means that I’ve got what you might call an aura.”

“An aura?” It was hard not to raise an eyebrow, but after centuries of different slang, you were sure he probably didn’t care to keep up, much less adhere, with any of it.

“Yep! Of course, none of you guys could even begin to register the strength radiating off me.” The continual slander geared toward the intelligence of the human race was the least of your worries, so you let him continue without protest. “And neither can the other crazy creatures living on this celestial plane. Not unless I let them.”

Your eyes widened. “You’re saying there’s more-”

“But, they can if I’m connected to a host, regardless of whether or not I’m actually inhabiting their body. So, it’s no surprise that some of them will be attracted to you. If you’re starting to dream about these things, those beasts are probably already starting to hunt you down.”

Horror slowly began congealing in your stomach “You’re serious?”

“Would I ever lie to you?”

The answer should have most definitely been ‘yes,’ but the panic hitch hiking on your train of thought was loud enough to overwhelm any other logical idea.

“Then you have to leave! Like, right now!”

“Sorry, not gonna happen.” He flew over to you, instant proximity backing you into the door. “But I can offer something else.”

Any closer and that giant eye would’ve ran straight into your nose. Bill seemed to take notice of the overwhelming amount of stimuli surpassing your senses, pupil narrowing in what you might have guessed to be gleeful recognition before resuming on with the supposed solution.

“I’m sure you’ve seen all the paranormal movies. Those amulets are one of the only things Hollywood got right. Protective marks, talismans, whatever you want to call ‘em. They’re pretty popular in other universes actually, very fasionable.” One black arm elongated, wrapping around your wrist and yanking it upward to pat the back of your hand. “It would go right here. And the best part is, it wouldn’t even hurt! I know your type of ink takes weeks to heal, right?”

An almost sickly feeling was left behind as you tugged away from his hold, almost as if his mere touch would leave you infected, an earthly being terminally doomed to the most unearthly of deaths. It wouldn’t have mattered one way or another. Apparently, you were already sick. “You want… me to get a tattoo?”

“Ding, ding, ding! But nobody except you, me, or whoever else I decide to grace with my company will be able to see it.”

Apprehension must have been evident upon your features, the usually collected facade you employed now bashed by this sledgehammer of information, and Bill swiftly morphed into his human form. The stark difference in height that you just now had the opportunity to truly distinguish did absolutely nothing but make the unease worse, shoulders curling forward as the rest of your stature threatened to fold in on itself in nerves, begging to hide beneath the layers of skin and muscle with the rest of your organs.

“I don’t think you understand how dangerous these things are. Obviously, I could take care of them lickity-split, but I probably can’t say the same for your little friends.” A cackle pulsed through freshly molded vocal cords as he watched your expression jump further into frightened shock. “You really thought interdimensional evil would try to keep collateral damage to a minimum? You’re basically a nuclear missile for magic radiation right now. I give everyone within a five mile radius a week at most before they end up in body bags.”

Emotional, sometimes.

Naive, maybe.

But you definitely weren’t dumb. You had studied the behavior and processes of those around you enough to know when something was amiss.

It was almost undeniable that there was more than he was letting on, a few pages of the story that you were almost certain had been ripped out of the book to keep you in the dark. Plus, the rapid amounts of knowledge attached to a potential time limit was basically engineered to pressure you into an impulsive decision.

Honestly, if it had just been you, you might have waited, taken a moment to shuffle through your options before branding yourself to this creature, one that you had wanted nothing more than to get rid of a week ago.

But if there was any morsel truth to what he was saying, that wasn’t what you were dealing with.

And the mere notion had you nauseous.

“And if I do this… those things aren’t going to be able to track me? Or hurt anyone else?”

Bill had begun picking at his nails, seemingly unbothered with the entire situation. “Uh-huh. They won’t have a reason to. I just need your skin and a few seconds.”

Suspicion filtered your view as you eyed him. “What do you get out of this?”

A sharp laugh of vexation echoed over your dorm room. “You think I want to deal with those interdimentional maniacs? Absolutely not. Doing this just means I don’t have to be wasting my time getting rid of them.”

Blood had begun to salt your saliva, roots of scarlet blooming along your bottom lip and teeth from the nonstop anxiety biting. The minor sting seemed to draw you back into reality and you ducked around him, reaching for and opening an old notebook. “Draw it.”

Not leaving out a sigh of vexation, Bill snapped. Ebony bled through the paper almost instantly, swirling letters of another language you couldn’t hope to begin to recognize lacing between one another into a small, circular design.

Snatching back the journal, you grabbed your computer and began searching. As expected, the markings were completely alien to the internet, whatever dialect had been scrawled was either millions of years old or from another universe entirely. It just slightly registered that you might be holding a priceless artifact right now, whispered evidence of foreign worlds trapped in the confines of parchment and charcoal, something scholars might pay millions for fated to be hidden forever, buried among the rest of your secrets.

Impulsivity had started to blur at your vision, fogging over anything but that internal clock begging you to make a decision before anyone else got hurt, regardless of how little you actually knew.

The teachers, overworked and underpaid, but trying their hardest nonetheless.

The students, innocent minds just like yours hoping to learn about existence and barely making an indent in the impossibly inaccessible cavern information out there.

The family that would inevitably start to call, pleading for a visit once the holidays drew closer.

“Fine.”

A dull pain, the budding promise of a headache later, throbbed in your temple when Bill spun your desk chair around and halted the rapid rotation with his foot before grabbing your hand. You watched, a mix of nerves and awe coagulating into a pot of simmering anticipation, as he lifted it up. The edge of his lips grazed your skin, leaving you to watch in wonder as he began.

Forgotten language ripples off his tongue like honey. Some of the syllables were completely silent, and a small part of you wondered if they had traveled beyond the auricular spectrum of this celestial plane, the sound fizzling into the universe where it might actually be heard someday.

Secret words seem to drop from his mouth onto your skin, slipping under the surface and infesting it with its ink. Ebony began to bleed through from beneath the dermis, swirling marks blooming like vines and capping off with thorny streaks of the unknown dialect.

As Bill pulled back, you were able to see the resulting talisman forever etched onto the back of your hand. It matched the symbol on the paper, minute imperfections spurred by the ripple of bones stemming toward your digits. A pleasant tingle danced up your arm, the feeling wavering toward how it would if your limb fell asleep, save for the vexing prickliness that usually came with it. Regardless, you immediately drew back and stretched the limb around, hoping to wring out the foreign sensation soaking into it. It slowly began to leak away after a few seconds, but the feeling of phantom fingers brushing over you made your hair stand on end.

Still, the alien beauty added to the vast sense of relief had you brimming with solace. Wonder and gratitude were slowly clouding over any rays of intuitive suspicion you had earlier.

You looked up with a smile, the brimming gratitude a pathetic imitation of the arrogance lacing Bill’s own. “Thanks.”

“No problem, doc.”

⭒⋆△⋆⭒

“You’ve seriously never faked being sick? Or just not shown up? It’s so easy. You basically just do nothing!”

“I already said that I’d help. If you were gonna be such a pain, why didn’t you say something a few days ago? Then I could’ve tried to reschedule or something, at least.”

Water coated the underside of your boots as you walked across campus. The sky was a muddy gray, its lifeless palette a perfect match to the fallen, decomposing leaves that were littered across the cement. It was quite an enjoyable day, however, the insipid flair adding to Autumn’s own spooky aesthetic and being something that you enjoyed.

Bill, on the other hand, was not in as good of a mood.

On the contrary, he had been particularly snippy for most of the afternoon, shooting snide comments your way whenever you had done anything to prepare for later. And while you did feel a bit bad that he was being strung along to your, potentially boring, study session with Jax, he had been there when they asked, so he had ample time to prepare.

Plus, you had suggested multiple times that he just stay behind or even pop off to whatever apocalyptic dimension was frequented on those hours he refused to share anything about, but it was met with refusals and the occasional flick on the forhead.

The triangle in question followed you from behind, the harsh wind doing nothing to deter his smooth hovering. “Obviously, that doesn’t matter. You should have just cancelled all together.”

Rolling your eyes, you extended your arm towards the door to Fletcher Hall. The pads of your fingers wrapped around the handle, its chilled metal exacerbating the shiver rumbling under your thin jacket. “Can you just promise to play nice? It’ll be over in less than an hour.”

That was a bit of a fib. Jax had proposed a forty-five minute session, but they had the unfavorable tendency to ignore the clock in favor of their work.

“I don’t make promises. I make deals. Now, if that’s something you’re interested in, I can definitely-”

“Nope.”

You jogged ahead before Bill could berate you for interrupting him, a gleeful smile tugging at your lips. At this point, the back and forth quips that you and him shared felt friendly and fun. Besides, he hadn’t even come close to making true on his threatening promises, whether it be to make a garland from your limbs or eat your fingers like carrot sticks. They were fairly engaging from a psychological point and you had easily called bluff, almost awaiting whatever creative warning he would issue next.

The inside of the building was scarcely better than the out, but it wasn’t a surprise that the school would have turned off the heating over break, so you had come prepared.

Kind of.

After surviving a few years of winter, whether or not the majority of that time was spent inside in front of your computer, it was easy to kid yourself into believing that you were practically made for the snow. As such, it was just as easy to forgo some extra layers in hopes of saving extra time or money, so you wouldn’t exactly be ready for expedition Antarctica.

Thankfully, this odyssey of exploration would be for your mind instead of body, so there shouldn’t be too many physically extensive voyages.

In fact, the triple flight of stairs would most likely be the most tiring undertaking of the day.

Running up the steps seemed to have drained the air from your lungs, your very own Mount Everest right here in the Pacific Northwest. You ignored the mocking comments Bill made concerning your stamina, or lack thereof, as you collected yourself, wanting to employ a guise of unbotheredness before opening the door next to you.

Jax was already bent over a microscope, gaze glued to whatever new specimen that had been draped over the glass slide. The hinges creaked, tired from years of abandoned neglect, and announced your presence. Dark brown eyes trailed over to you, lighting in excitement as they bounded over.

“Finally!” Jax kicked the door closed behind you with their foot, swiftly twisting the lock closed before grabbing your hands and pulling you towards one of the tables. “Wait til you see this.”

You fought back a giddy smile at the touch, guessing whatever left them so enthused might offer a distraction. Based on the way their own grin dangerously wavered over the line of what most people might consider sane, you were probably correct. Actually, the eagerness might have even been contagious.

It was enough to keep you from noticing the way Bill’s giant eye narrowed in annoyance, in what possibly might have translated into a death stare equivalent in his human form.

After dropping your wrist, Jax bent down, fingers wrapping around some cloth-enclosed package with a gentleness that didn’t seem possible in their current state. It was placed upon the metal surface before cautious hands began to undo the twine wrapping around its surface, almost as if they were defusing a bomb.

For all you knew, it very well could be.

Even after all these years, Jax hadn’t seemed to have changed. They had always been interested in what others might call abnormalities, the tiny errors hiding in the coding of your already imperfect world. You remembered hearing them talk to a teacher one day during middle school, raving about some article they had seen of a two headed calf. A polaroid of the creature had been featured in their locker wall for the next week, completed with their very own clumsily rendered sketch of the inner muscle proportions.

The constant guarantees from parents and educators alike that this was not a stable career path failed to deter them in any way. In your opinion, each unsupporting remark was just another gasoline-soaked stick, tossed onto that roaring fire of determination and reduced to ashes in minutes.

They had majored in anatomy, sure, but that definitely didn’t stop them from going out into the forest each weekend and finding the oddest specimen they could.

Last month, it had been a small quail with strangely looking crest feathers. Those big eyes and round bodies had left Jax just as inquisitive as the question-mark-looking plumage.

This time, you noted as the fabric fell away, was another bird.

Or birds, apparently.

“Are those woodpeckers?”

One of the avians puttered around the cage, long beak pecking at the bars of its enclosure in confusion. Quiet guilt tugged at your heartstrings at the sight. Still, you knew that Jax treated their own ‘patients’ as one might their own children, so you knew the creatures were in good hands.

Your line of sight trailed from the first bird to the second, noting the key difference between the two. For starters, this one was maybe a tenth the size of the first, but just as outwardly mature looking in terms of feather growth.

What really surprised you, however, was the fact that it was perfectly placed on the back of its larger counterpart.

“Yep!” Jax responded. “And I found them just like that. They haven’t even moved!”

“Is it parasitic?” You asked, watching as the second nipped at the neck of the first.

“Nope. The relationship is completely symbiotic.” Their erratic grin had started to bleed into their voice. “The bigger one gets cleaned of the tics and the little one gets a snack.”

“Like the Egyptian Plover and crocodiles.”

“Isn’t it amazing? I found them a few miles East of where I released our Question Quails.”

A smile threatened to break out onto your face at the mention of what they had ended up naming your most recent critter study specimen. “What do you need from me?”

“I need you,” Jax grabbed a chair and dragged it behind you, the legs groaning with a screech that made your shoulders pull up in a tense. Hands wrapped around them and pushed you onto the stool before grabbing a notebook, nearly throwing it down with fervor. “To stay right here. Watch and make note of anything they do. I’ve already taken some blood and urine samples, so I’ll just be over by the microscope if anything happens, yeah?”

You had barely nodded before they scrambled back to their own seat, attention once again falling victim to the alluring thrill of bodily fluids.

As it turned out, half an hour was the allotted amount of time that you had before Bill started to completely forget, or probably ignore, your request from earlier. He had started buzzing around your head four minutes ago after deciding that your silently written responses were not enough for his continuous comments. Regardless, you had attempted to stick it out, smothering a laugh whenever he offered an especially fun piece of commentary.

The pair of birds had fallen asleep a little while ago, the smaller one, who Jax had dubbed Jason, still perched above the similarly recently labeled Freddy. His eyes were closed, soft breath inflating his tiny body between two-point-four second intervals. Every so often, they would snuggle up against each other, fluffed cheeks molding into the warm tufts.

You watched as Bill slipped through the empty space between the bars, receiving a complete lack of recognition from the snoozing creatures. It wasn’t until his finger poked into the side of one of them. Each animal gave him a small twitch of acknowledgement before stretching back into their relaxed position.

However, that definitely didn’t seem to be the case when he buzzed over the second, small feet barely grazing over its back. The birds jumped simultaneously, weary gaze following Bill out of the cage in perfect tandem.

That made you pause.

For the most part, the creatures had been pretty relaxed, almost as if they understood that the two monstrous giants looking down upon them meant no harm. Freddy had even nestled into your palm during feeding time, hoping for a gentle head scratch. But he had promptly flinched away when your touch

Obviously, it was a sign of protection.

So why would Jason do the same?

“Will you just come over here for a sec? And bring that magnifying glass next to you, please?”

To the outward eye, it would have rivaled a speck of dust or piece of dirt. But under the enhanced view of the optic instrument, it was easy to see another miniscule bird perched right above the second, pecking away at whatever other microscopic bugs were present on the feathers underneath.

“You’re amazing.” Jax chuckled, vision glued to the ocular lens and their hand clutching yours in amazement. “Do you think there’s another? We gotta get better equipment.”

“My evolutionary psych professor works with one of the molecular biology instructors. I’m sure if I ask, she’ll put in a good word for us to borrow an electron scope.” You offered, watching as Jax backed away from the device, their animated grin slowly falling. “You okay?”

They didn’t respond, expression continuing to drop in what looked like horror. Slowly beginning to back away, their foot caught on the strap of a wayward bag and they crumpled to the floor.

You followed them down, a careful seriousness coating your tone as you kneeled. “What’s wrong?”

“What the fuck is that?”

Their question had you squinting in confusion until you realized that their fearful gaze was not, in fact, set on you, but right above your head.

Right where Bill had perched himself, legs tangled within the strands of your hair.

#bill cipher #gravity falls bill #gravity falls x reader #gravity falls #gravity falls imagine #bill cipher x you #bill cipher x reader #gravity falls fanfiction #gravity falls x you

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boymanmaletheshequel · 6 months ago

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Symbolism of Melinoe

💀💭💀💭💀💭💀💭💀💭💀💭💀💭💀💭

Dark goddess of funeral, of nightmares, and of ghosts and the dead, Melinoê is the dual goddess of the light and the day, said to be charred black on one side in her chthonic nature, and bright and white as snow on the other, contrasted by her heavenly half, Melinoe is a goddess to be revered and respected, and here are some of the symbols and sacred icons you can use to do so.

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•🌈 Colors:

Representative of her dualistic nature, the analogous colors of black and white are the best colors, or rather lack there-of, to iconize and represent this frightening goddess, like a black and white tintype photograph from a nostalgic, forgotten era.

•🐴 Animals:

- Ravens: the most iconic bird of the dead, a specter and epiphet of all chthonic deities, crows are the most obvious choice for an animal to represent the power and idolatry of lady Melinoe.

- Moths: an insect of the night, bound and destined to follow the white light in the dark, moths are rather reminiscent of the lost souls and ghosts guided by melinoe to those who seek them from the afterlife.

•🌸 flowers & Herbs:

- White Poppies. Long considered a symbol of ancient afterlife, and a bringer of nightmares, poppies are often considered a deeply paranormal flower, and it makes since that because of this, they are often seen as being iconic of melinoe, especially the white ones.

- Mhyrr. An incense of great respect and value, myhrr has historically been left as an offering at funerals for the dead, a sign of luck and prospect in the afterlife. This was especially common in ancient Egypt, but there’s also evidence to suggest that it was regarded in a similar way in Ancient Greece during the Hellenistic period!

•🍗 food:

- Pomegranate: as the daughter of Persephone and Hades, pomegranates played a pivotal role in the conception of lady Melinoe, and are a great food offering or libation to her, if one wants to communicate or connect to her, perhaps a good way to do so would be to snack on a palm of pomegranate seeds, or to make a tea from its rind?

•💎 crystals & gemstones:

- Ancestralite. A somewhat rare natural combination of hematite and iron, Ancestralite is considered a great gateway stone to communicating with the spirits of dead ancestors or family members, as well as a stone of protection from death itself. These qualities make it a rather great option for a stone to use in crystal work with lady Melinoe!

- Snowflake Obsidian. Obsidian, a lavic stone that has long been used in darker magic, and especially Chthonic magic, is a natural fit for iconizing Melinoe? And the stones signature black and white “snowflake” speckles are great representation of her dual nature between light and dark, though, any variety of Obsidian will work in theory!

- Jet. Often worn to funerals as intricately carved mourning brooches during the Victorian era, jet is a stone of deep Black Death, and highly representative of mourning and the afterlife, with the history to back it up. I actually own one of these antique brooches, and have found it to hold a very dark, but not evil, energy! Jet is a great, and very absorbing stone to work with in chthonic or black magic!

•🪐 planets:

- The moon. Like almost all chthonic deities, the moon is iconic of lady Melinoe, as the domain of nightmares and ghosts she reigns over is most active when it is at its fullest phase! Take advantage of the moon cycles if you wish to communicate with any chthonic deity, Melinoe included.

•🏅other symbols:

- Graveyard dirt. A common offering or ingredient used in black divination, spirit work, and dark magic, a jar of (ethically sourced, pls don’t dig in peoples graves lmao) graveyard dirt is a perfect offering of loyalty and reverence, or iconic symbol of respect, to the goddess Melinoe, as funerals are perhaps her most sacred event!

So there you have it, some helpful starters to begin your reverence of the symbolism and iconography of lady Melinoe of Hades, daughter of Persephone and Hades, mother of ghosts and nightmares. I hope you learned something about her, and will consider her in your future practices! Thanks for reading, and stay tuned for more posts about the intriguing and powerful deities of Helen! 💙🏛️💙

@xxfox0-chillingxx

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518062 · 1 month ago

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If there is no moral to the story, is it worth telling?

Abstract: Izuku Midoriya is a microcosm of Horikoshi's inconsistent writing in My Hero Academia. The absence of a narrative voice in later arcs proves a lack of cohesion and care when considering all plot points before and after. The manga contains heaps of evidence to support this theory. One must consider not just Midoriya, but other plot points such as incarceration and the handling of antagonists as well, although this discourse pertains only to Midoriya for the sake of conciseness. Much like public opinion, the discourse seen below posits Horikoshi's literary ability as My Hero Academia's greatest detriment––especially when it comes to Midoriya.

An Introduction

A gripe many have with Horikoshi’s writing is the lack of cohesion and completion. This issue leads to characteristic inconsistencies and poor gratification for audiences.

Per Blumler and Katz (1973), active audiences search for escapism in what they consume. Readers/viewers do not want to follow a story and get to the end without significant development, especially if they have been following it for an extensive time in which they have grown accustomed to the story’s protagonists and reality.

Stories need morals, which is why we always ask why the chicken crossed the road––we already assume or know the how, especially in manga. The why is imperative because it is the core of a story. What motives do these characters possess? How do these motives affect their decisions? Why do they possess these motives? What message is the producer sending through such motives and decisions? The why and how appear interchangeably, but the why is the core of the story because it helps audiences connect with the story.

Who is Midoriya? What defines him?

Midoriya admires All Might for his kindness, resilience, and heroism. Therefore, Midoriya aspires to be just like All Might. Izuku has his why, but his how is the obstacle; his arc, since he has no Quirk and, at that moment in time, one needed a Quirk to even consider heroism as a career. As readers, this is good––we understand Izuku’s motives and want to root for him. We then understand why he works so hard, pushing his body to the limit, gaining multiple scars and having multiple notebooks in which he analyses every Quirk around him.

The how then solves itself rather easily. All Might transfers One For All (OFA) to Midoriya and now he can work towards heroism. Then a new how emerges, or a new goal––taking down All For One (AFO). From this point, Midoriya’s ideology is unwavering. But during the Paranormal Liberation War Arc, Midoriya faces a pragmatism his idealistic self had not yet considered.

Lady Nagant says it best; “History will just repeat itself.” Midoriya responds to her with what could be considered his first judicious thought: “It’s not all black and white. Most things in this world are in shades of grey. A blend of fear and anger.”

Despite his acknowledgement of society’s flaws, he keeps his motives intact. He wants to “extend a helping hand,” to which Lady Nagant responds; “That phony education’s done wonders for you.” Again, he convinces her to fight the ‘good fight.’ He still possesses hope during such tumultuous conditions.

Midoriya’s resilience mirrors that of All Might and even surpasses him. As our young, fiery, hard-working MC, Midoriya inspires other characters and readers as well.

Then it falls apart. The why and how cease to reflect one another as time passes. The idea of a tainted society is explored throughout Midoriya’s Dark Hero arc and is pushed aside for the inevitable climax––the Final War. When Aoyama confesses the truth, Midoriya bursts into tears. He cannot possibly fathom that someone would support such evil. But with his new nuanced brain, he comprehends the difficulties Aoyama faced––the poor boy had no choice. With this newfound consciousness and pre-existing empathy, Midoriya grows into a character who understands the grey area he mentioned to Nagant.

This is where many notice the significant decrease in Midoriya’s narration. His inner voice, which has led audiences for approx. 330 chapters, is lost. As the Final War begins, the relationship between character/consumer is broken.

We do not know who Midoriya is. He cannot be defined.

Consider: when Midoriya saw a dead Bakugou, he could not control his heart (literally). Mirio acts as the narrator here––reminding Midoriya of his task––and he charges forward. For a character who is so deep in thought––so incredibly verbose––Midoriya has no thoughts. Not a single word tells the readers his explicit feelings. One could argue this example is useless, since the lack of speech is the message that Midoriya is feeling a “blend of fear and anger,” but the idea persists. Besides this moment, Midoriya’s actions, his motives and emotions, are no longer described or conveyed in an explicit fashion.

Objectively, producers should consider the implicit just as much as the explicit. Audiences feel rewarded when they identify key plot points through foreshadowing. Readers like to dissect meanings through script and art. But there must always be a balance, and once the explicit is lost, the implicit becomes redundant. This is because the explicit sets the foundation for the implicit.

To summarise, Midoriya’s lack of a potent voice (and the lack of transparency) leads to inconsistencies and confusion. Most of all, it leads to alienation. This must be prefaced: Horikoshi does not need to spell out every single thing he wishes to convey. Yet Midoriya had been doing this for 300 chapters, and suddenly it dissipated. Slowly, albeit, but the evidence presents itself. Readers, especially those who have tuned in every week to see where the war is going for this extremely troubled but powerful teenager, the only one who can defeat the antagonist, want to see how this teenager is feeling. Is he angry? Afraid? The loss of internal voice has catalysed a series of disappointments. Now we cannot determine how the MC feels. As a result, we no longer understand him or his motives.

Consider: when Midoriya loses his arms, one can infer the inevitable shock, yet this shock is not expressed at all. Aizawa emerges from wherever he came and simply asks Midoriya how long it’s been since he lost his limbs. Midoriya answers him (“dunno”), still. Midoriya does not need to voice his thoughts anymore––especially since Eri swoops in to save his arms and continue the fight (which, without a five-year-old, means the entire story would be over. That is for another time.) Consequently, Midoriya stands up and keeps fighting. There is not one small text box dedicated to his contemplation. Rather, he fixates on how his plan to reach Tenko’s core failed, but his gory arms? Not a problem, it seems, since Eri exists.

The question arises––what would be of Midoriya and this world without Eri? Would Midoriya lie there, rigid, or would he merely fight with his legs? One can only guess. Yet this (and again, the lack of introspection) implores readers to grow agitated.

Of course, Midoriya does his best and kills AFO/Tenko. Before this, he calls AFO a “lonely man”. The inconsistencies are frustrating––how does Midoriya sympathise but refuse to elaborate on this after AFO is permanently gone? Does Midoriya (or Horikoshi) think it’s plausible to move on because it’s done and dusted? The most traumatic day of his life? Because Midoriya soars, sends the gust of wind, fist in air, and then it’s over.

The arc is over.

We jump straight ahead to rescue efforts; the teenagers recovering in hospital, Midoriya’s loss of OFA, imploring readers to ask whether there exists a moral at all. Can one become a hero without a Quirk? Of course not. That’s why Horikoshi needed to introduce the suit. Otherwise, all 400 chapters of this manga are pointless.

The audience never gets a glimpse into the years where Midoriya lives Quirkless again. Even when he loses the embers, we do not receive explicit or implicit messaging. The why is still gone. Did Midoriya cry? Did he keep going? The understanding is Midoriya kept fighting, kept staying positive, but who says? The manga doesn’t.

Then the why comes back into the picture with a new how––a new equilibrium––but readers are left unsatisfied. The producer fails to provide the escapism people have been seeking for ten years. Because yes, Midoriya can be a hero––he has his suit after all—and his motives are intact. He still adores Yagi. He’s still verbose and awkward and resilient.

It is funny; approx. 100 chapters prior, Lady Nagant said; “History will just repeat itself.” And she is correct. We do not get to see why Midoriya continues as a hero, even though he knows the crime rate has lowered and the system needs a huge transformation (which, if it were not for the lazy time skip, we perhaps would have seen besides an inept Quirk counsel.)

Midoriya is a shallow protagonist. Above all, he is an empty shell and not worth believing in. His motives are all over the place or completely invisible. His flaws are erased once he can become a hero again––his critical thinking skills are dropped. He ends the manga the same way he began (cognitively, so anyone reading this, it is advised you consider the narration and not the legitimate ending), which is fighting for the moral good and kindness and whatnot.

As readers, the issue at hand is perilous and comical. This story, throughout all its highs and lows––complex societal commentary to stupid analogies––is far from reality. Neither is it tangible in its own reality. It is not satisfying, educational, exciting, or beneficial for anyone. With this conclusion, nobody wins but those who yell huzzah for novice writing. One could posit that MHA could be erased from existence and no one would move an inch.

The most frustrating aspect? Horikoshi executed fantastic arcs for other characters. Todoroki had a tangibly terrific arc and his motives––again, his why––have changed because he has been challenged. This is an improvement. Even Bakugou, whose arc is often controversial, displays immense growth and maturity. From these characters audiences learn lessons and, if the message does not resonate, at least it could entertain––the gratification and escapism is achieved. Bakugou is hugely popular for this reason (beyond others; consider context again please.)

The conclusion?

History repeats itself, anyway. Good for you, Midoriya and co.

#izuku midoriya #mha #my hero academia #mha analysis #my hero academia analysis #deku #izuku #one for all #all for one #i outdid myself with this one #its not that good #anyone willing to join me in this discussion please feel free #062 analysis #ill admit i wrote this very angrily #i was just like #oh my God this is serious #i love izuku by the way pls dont misunderstand

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