#fandom has taught me that my approach to fiction is strange

[alovelyburn]

It’s an old ask and can’t find it rn but just imo grifflotte is miserable. Griffith, even with all of his power, is again in a way “forced” to use his body and charms to achieve his goal, something we see quite a lot happening in his youth and being his big issue. He has everything that should allow him to actually make his dream come true, but he still needs to pay a prize for it. I’m not saying it’s the same as Gennon, but the theme is always there. Charlotte being happy is also not the best? Like, I think it’s mostly narrative fault and the way women are presented in the story, but it is so sad. She is happy because she is manipulated into that happiness and lives through fantasy of some kind. And I hate how it can be interpreted as positive. And I do think theres a big chance we gonna see a child too, but I hate the idea of that kid inheriting Griffith kingdom and being destined to rule it, without the baggage (quite popular theory in normal side of the fandom) instead of an actual princess with good ideas who should already have much more growth tbh. It’s like her character ultimately gets turned into just incubator for the next cycle. Not the worst fate in berserk but I hate it so much. Women in berserk are better-ish than most characters we used to but that don’t make them good. But hey, that’s just me wanting more

All right, I think I get where you're coming from now. It's just not how my head works, so I had to kind of adjust my perspective a little. When someone says a relationship is miserable my assumption is that they mean the characters are miserable, but it seems more like commentary on the type of relationship it is. Sort of similar to the child/heir thing - less about the story supporting it than that you perhaps find the turn unsatisfying or undesirable from the perspective of what you'd rather see. I might still be off base, feel free to correct me. But yeah, I mean I'm not here to argue with people's preferences, it is what it is.

From my own perspective...

I do think Griffith pre-eclipse seemed to perceive his relationship with Charlotte as being in the same vein (not to the same degree) as his encounter with Gennon in the sense that he was once again "paying" for something he needed by trading his... body (and the performance of affection in Charlotte's case) for that thing. I think this is part of the reason for his post-coital breakdown with her - this sense that he had lost someone he loved and wanted and is now left with this person that he will always feel he is "selling" himself to on some level.

Honestly, even allowing the Godhand to destroy the remnants of his human flesh and carve his heart out in exchange for his ascension is in some ways just the extreme end of what he's always done: giving away pieces of himself in exchange for things he needs in order to accomplish his goals. Even the external sacrifice is described as needing to be something that is essentially so loved as to become a part of the person making the sacrifice.

"Take hold of the world in exchange for their own flesh and blood," as they say.

And I do think that is incredibly tragic - he's a tragic character. Absolutely. I'm just not sure whether that's something Griffith cares about at all post-eclipse due to the destruction and reconstruction of his emotional world.

Anyway, I'm of two minds about the whole thing because... I've written at some length about my frustration with Casca, the way her character is constructed and the motivations she's given. Yet, at the same time, if I think about what could/should happen with her character, I can only do that from the reality of what she is in the story rather than a hypothetical about what I would have made her or would have preferred her to be.

Plus my writer brain is stronger than my fan brain, so when I think about things like this I always think about them as being one of many moving parts within a narrative. So I think things like, if Charlotte were the sort of character to take over like a boss after her father passed away then the whole story about Griffith courting her so he can run a country makes no sense. That being the case, she's designed to be a person who doesn't do that because... that's just the role she has in the story.

All that said, and now I'm just continuing to talk about this grifflote child concept as though I'm invested in it and I just akjnakjnsd like I'm REALLY NOT I'm just thinking from a narrative perspective since it keeps coming up...

Let's say she has a kid, and then Griffith dies.

The kid would be like... an infant. So wouldn't she need to step up anyway?

ETA: And I have no idea what the mainstream western fandom is doing aside from performatively spitting fire every time Griffith's name is mentioned. Still, they can't be wrong all the time. Stopped clocks and all that.

[troop-scoop]

Mistakes & Regrets I

Summary: When a trip to your Dad’s hometown of Hawkins goes wrong, you end up in the year 1983, and have to learn how to cope with being stuck in the past.

Pairing: Steve Harrington / Future!Reader (Slow Burn)

A/n: This is my first stranger things fic, I’ve done other fandoms, and i’ve been itching to get this idea out, let me know if you liked the first part, and if you want to be tagged! (Pls be nice, i’m shy lol) (Also, I had this on a side blog, that I decided to bring to my main blog)

•••

The 1980’s were weird, that was your final opinion. Mainly because it was so much like home, they had phones, they dressed almost like you were used to, they had music you’d grown up on, like The Clash and Elton John, but a lot of the songs that were decades older than you, were new to them.

And while you knew every lyric to ‘The Safety Dance’ and ‘Come on Eileen’ everyone around you was still trying to learn them, and would jumble them from time to time. But at the young age of two, you were dancing along to The Clash while your dad laughed and danced with you.

Knowing that some songs you loved wouldn’t come out for up to twenty years later made you upset, not being able to listen to Nirvana. Suddenly you wanted to be in the car, listening to your dad try to sing along to Ed Sheeran or Taylor Swift. It was always amusing seeing his reaction to the newest songs on the radio while he drove you to school.

There was another thing about this time period that you found weird. They actually had lockers. All of the lockers from your school had been taken out in the late 90’s when a kid hid a gun and drugs in his, so no one had lockers except for in the locker room. So having to remember two different combos was a pain in your ass.

“L/n!”

A heavy sigh escaped your nose as your lips went thin in fake annoyance even though he hadn’t fully approached you.

“What do you want, Harrington?” You questioned, turning from the open grey locker to see him just a few feet away.

He gave you a look of fake offense as he leaned against the locker next to yours a hand over his on his chest, sadly were the latch of your own was, so you couldn’t use the door as a shield,

“Hey, now, who said I wanted anything? I just wanna talk to my friend.”

You were kind of friends. He was nice, at least to you. Though you’d seen him be a douchebag to other students. The cliche you’d seen in a movie of highschool. The popular guy who only cared about popularity and the people he was around. And you didn’t know why he thought you were a good person to be around, because when you were six you accidently set your curtains on fire while the babysitter fell asleep. And you were pretty sure you gave off ‘crazy bitch’ vibes.

You turned back to the locker and shook your head, grabbing your English textbook and looking back to him, a hand holding onto the door while you leaned into it. “Okay, why do you want to talk to me?” You questioned with a fake smile.

“Alright, grumpy. Tommy H, Carol, and I wanna hang out at yours tonight. My parents don’t leave for three more days, and  Carol’s mom hates Tommy, and you know how Tommy’s dad is.” He explained, looking down at you.

You hummed in amusement. “Not happening.” You responded, grabbing the hood of his hoodie and placing it in his locker, closing the door in on it. “Have fun.”

“Y/n!” He exclaimed in a sudden panic at being stuck in your locker, not being able to pull himself loose. “This isn’t funny, I will tell Mrs. Click!” He threatened as you stepped back, a genuine grin on your face as you looked up at him.

“A tattle tale? Didn’t think you’d stoop that low, and also, Mrs. Click? You think I’m scared of my History teacher? She’s afraid of saying ‘Wench’ out loud while we reading historical texts. She’s not intimating.”

Steve nodded a bit in thought. “Yeah… Okay, maybe I didn’t think that through, I’ll go to principal-”

“If I get suspended, I get suspended.” You shrugged. “Find a way to get me something to listen to music on, and something that has music on it, and then I’ll let you go.”

“Are you… Are you bribing me? Y/n L/n is bribing me? The new girl is bribing me.” He said in awe, still grasping onto his hoodie, looking at you with his mouth agape and his eyebrows raised.

When you only tilted your head he groaned, pulling on the cotton material. “Fine, Walkman or Record Player?”

“Hmm… Walkman.” You replied.

“Queen or Blondie?” He questioned, a smile coming across your face as you reached up to the lock.

“Both.”

Steve rolled his eyes as you unlocked your locker, setting him free. “That wasn’t fair, you look innocent.” He grumbled.

You mimicked his eye roll, closing the locker and walking away through the hall. ‘Fair’ being repeated in your head. Nothing was fair anymore to you. You’d been normal, just an annoying kid who was obsessed with Grey’s Anatomy, and history. That was what you had to your name. Your friends had once watched the bad uneducational tv show with you just to try and understand your obsession, you dad even had given it a chance, only saying that most of the characters were annoying.

But you only had history now. And some of the things you were supposed to learn in AP European history haven’t even happened yet. And it was freaking you out.

What was freaking you out more? Knowing you had a ‘classmate’ in your History class, who sat next to you, and was your relative. Your dad’s brother.

Sitting next to him was strange. Because he was your uncle. He’d been the one who bought you your first bike, and watched you fall off and break your wrist after your dad had let go of the bike.

To say that being his partner on a history project was weird, was an understatement. Because the entire time you felt like hitting your head against the desk, because he didn’t really change.

“What’s so important about a quote?”

“Are you serious?”

“As serious as the Titanic.” You responded, brows furrowed.

He stayed quiet for a moment. “I don’t know.” He admitted, receiving a chuckle from you as you watched him flip through the book. “I don’t even understand this project.”

“Come on, we have to choose a quote from a historical piece of fiction, We were assigned Romeo and Juliet.” You said grabbing your book and flipping to a certain page. “Romeo, oh Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?” You teased, knowing that the page you were on didn’t have that in there.

The boy was technically older than you, but right now, you were the same age, and he was shaking his head with a smile. “It’s like she wanted him to be stalking her.” He responded.

“What?”

“She’s asking where he is.” He shrugged. “It’s weird, cause he still doesn’t come out when she asks that.”

“That’s not what she means. It’s early modern English. Phrases were different. She’s asking why he has to be Romeo. In modern words it’d be ‘Romeo, oh Romeo, why does it have to be Romeo.’ She’s upset because the guy she likes is in the enemy’s family.”

The boy looked at you, eyes scanning your face for a moment, looking for any hint of you joking, but he didn’t he finally spoke. “You could teach this class better than her.” He said in a hushed voice to make it so Mrs. Click didn’t hear.

“No-”

“L/n!” The two of you snapped your attention to the older woman who was scowling. “Back to work!”

You rolled your eyes and looked back to him as the bell rang. “That’s our cue.”

The 80’s were weird, and you didn’t like them. What with being so similar to home. With your uncle in the same history class as you, and being close to your dad, but older than him and not seeing him as your dad. And knowing people around you who were almost Baby Boomers, and in your time, would reprimand you for the jokes you made and your views of the world.

Being 16 in your time had been easier, able to cheat off websites for homework, and texting, which seemed to have been taken for granted by you.

Here, you couldn’t say you didn’t have a mom, but rather two dads. Because it was the 80’s and you knew the comments you’d get. You also couldn’t say your full name. That the dad you were genetically related to was the one who gave you the second last name that your uncle had and everyone would question it, and it pained you not being able to go by it, because he’d taught you more things than anyone else ever had. He’d taught you how to ride a book, and said that he’d be disappointed if you ever got ditching class, and that if you were going to do it, not to get caught for his sanity.

You would regret ever coming to this town with him, and you would regret the choice to ever run out of Enzo’s after your other dad yelled at you for being drenched from the rain after you ran in, finding that it was a formal restaurant and not a casual one. You’d regret going into the woods and getting lost, because all you wanted, was to be held by your dad and have him tell you it was going to be okay, You wanted to hear him walking down the hall late at night when he couldn’t sleep and you were hiding under your blankets with your phone, tying not to get caught for being up late.

But you had the fear that you’d never see your dad, as your dad. That you’d have to continue growing up in a time that has been written in history books. That you’d have to watch as technology progressed, and that you’d be conscious and aware for the year you were born.

You were still a kid, even if you didn’t look like it. Just six year ago, you’d been in elementary school, and you still got nightmares and went to your dads’ room because you were still scared of sleeping alone. You hadn’t been since, until now. You could barely sleep at night in the unfamiliar room of the motel you were living in, without your parent’s room down the hall.

But you were trying. And you wanted to redo everything, if you could build a time machine, you would. But that hadn’t even been available in your time, let alone 83’.