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Portrayal notes + canon divs.
Filler arcs etc: The filler episodes/arcs and 100 Year Quest are not included as canon, but if you are writing a character from the 100 Year Quest, I’m sure we can still put something together.
Appearance: The signature aspects of his look – the black section of hair, the dark lips and eyeliner, are all a result of a spell cast on him when he was younger. He absolutely does not care if anyone thinks he’s wearing makeup. The white part of his hair is also not fluffy like it is in his later canon appearance and instead is still smooth and fine.
History (pre-tower): His mother was a healer with a gift for prophecy and his father was the leader of the village. His mother was unable to emotionally bond with him, despite her best efforts, due to a ‘knowing’ that she had that he was dangerous. She later had a vision that he would cause the death of his father and her fears of that possibility further tainted the relationship. After she herself died in an accident, Macbeth stuck close to his fathers side and unfortunately (and unintentionally) did end up fulfilling the dreaded prophecy. His guilt and fears manifested as illusions and tormented him, driving the people in his village to think he was cursed or possessed. This is what prompted them to use the protection spell on him that would alter his appearance. When that was not successful in stopping the erratic behaviour and the ‘ghosts’ that were appearing everywhere, they handed him off to travelling traders (who then sold him on to the Zeref Cultists).
General attitude: He’s very quiet for the most part, only talks when he has to. He seems very uninterested in everything that’s going around him, but the truth is he’s very aware of it all (it still probably doesn’t interest him but he’s taking note anyway so he’s never caught off guard). He’s lazy, preferring to conserve his energy, only putting in effort when something interests or excites him. He’s insanely curious, and it’s only to serve his curiosity that he might actually talk or ask questions.
Jellal vs Oracion Seis: Jellal did not attack or fight with the members of the Oracion Seis in order to get them to join Crime Sorciere. He would not force someone to join him, and they are not the type who would allow themselves to be bullied into such a thing either.
Brain’s ‘death’: When Erik negotiates the freedom of the Oracion Seis, it does not include Brain, therefore their former master is not present when Jellal comes to meet them. Brain continues to rot in jail, as he deserves.
Crime Sorciere: For Macbeth, joining was a matter of convenience/survival and acquiescence to his comrades wishes. While in the guild, his motive for taking part in the bringing down of dark guilds was never about ‘atonement’ for his past sins and was closer to revenge. He doesn’t regret the deeds of his past, only that he did them for the sake of Brain.
Related to the above, although his motives weren't pure, it can't be said that he hasn't changed at all. He’s still cold for the most part and sadistic when the mood strikes, he’s not a good guy but he’s no longer someone who will hurt innocents indiscriminately (people who annoy him are fair game tho sorry) and he will step in if it seems to him that someone’s choice is being forced or made for them. He used to not…care. What happened to others was their own business, and he does still believe that, but freedom is more important than ever to him and its something he believes everyone should have. If he does try to help, and whoever it is makes what he sees is the Wrong choice, he’ll be irritated and may try once more to make them see sense, but he’ll leave them to it after that.
The pardon: Unlike in canon, the slate is not wiped clean for Crime Sorciere following the war. There are negotiations and trials and finally conditions upon their pardon. Macbeth is mandated to attend regular therapy, reintegrate into society via Sabertooth (under the supervision of Sting), and also assist the Council’s Research department (with occasional missions tracking dark mages). During this time, he has specialised living arrangements.
His cat: Several months into his mandated therapy, it was recommended he get a pet. He requested a cat and received a fluffy black kitten. He named her Onyx and he’s very protective of her. She is an incredibly snuggly babey and loves to be close to him.
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wrestling fic writers!!
i have decided to be the change i wanna see, so lets do a nice little thing for each other, as a community full of incredible and talented writers. yes this is writer specific only, but thats cause thats where the main problem of people not interacting with creative works lies in this fandom as far as i can tell and have seen people talking about it especially in the last couple of months
if you read this, please add links to your written works. it can be just a single fic youre really proud of, your writing blog, your writing tag, your ao3 account, anything where your works can be found
and if you leave your link here, PLEASE check out someone else that has left their works, and interact with them. leave them a comment, even just a kudos, REBLOG their fic, etc. interacting is the keyword i want to emphasize here, along with building a sort of a masterpost of where to find people writing in this fandom
and if you are not a writer, youre still highly encouraged to interact with this post and share it and show love to the writers in this fandom, obviously!! i think that should go without saying, but adding it in anyways
a bit more about my vision and resources and such under the read more, but thats the gist of it. happy linking and please be kind and supportive to each other!! 💜
nobody is too big or too small to add their things on this list. if you write and post anything in this fandom whatsoever, be it fics or drabbles or headcanons, any companies or any kind of ships or reader inserts or any content whatsoever no matter how 'dead dove dont eat' or hell even if its just meta, we welcome all here and nobody can say that one thing is less valid than another. just please tag your content accordingly, especially if theres content warnings, and feel free to mention what you write, who you write, any info you wish to leave that would help people before they click on your links. but even so, that should not and hopefully will not deter people from interacting, no matter what it is. someones trash is another ones treasure, i promise you
and unless the amount gets really overwhelming, im personally going to be checking out everyone that leaves something here. unless it squeaks me out, but even then, i'll spread the word. and i just wish as many people as possible will do the same, and not just use this as a potential board to only get eyes on their stuff. ofc thats also the point, but you should give as much, if not more, than you get. we need to be kind and supportive of one another (besides, from personal experience, if you show love to someone else, they are more likely to do it back than without you taking the first step, so... pay it forward)
as for resources, heres a few links that should be helpful in leaving comments and feedback. of course everyone does their own thing and no comment is too big or too small to leave, but for those who need them. if you have anything you'd like added to this list, dont hesitate to get in touch or drop it in the post yourself!!
101 comment starters
ao3 floating comment box
kudos html
dont know how to comment? easy solutions
a quick hot guide to commenting (by yours truly)
an overall guide to appreciating fanfic writers
and just in general.. leave people comments. leave them asks about their projects. just go over and gush about their work. i know it sounds embarrassing but writers love nothing more than to hear that someone likes what they are doing. if you find a fic that hasnt been updated in forever, comment on it. it might just be the spark the author needs to continue. while kudos and likes are nice, and just as valuable to some, its definitely in the words the people leave for them that matter the most. im not saying this to put pressure on anyone, its just how it is, and i feel like unless people are writers themselves, and even then sometimes, thats just hard to grasp, especially if the writer is a smaller and less popular one who doesnt get a lot of traffic in the first place
i think thats all. just be nice and considered to everyone, reblog peoples works, this post with others add ons and so forth. and if i find anyone talking shit here or at other writers for something they share, you'll be blocked and im probably taking your kneecaps. be fucking nice. we are all struggling here and we need to stick together
happy sharing and commenting 💜💜
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wrote this instead of doing any of my actual tasks <3 tw for brief mention of animal death (by hunting)
Yusuf has been dreading this since the moment they left for Akkala. He had made as many excuses as he could to stay in Goron City for as long as he could, but every one had run out in the end, and he could no longer put off the inevitable.
The first time he had walked this road, his father had accompanied him with a platoon of guards, still cautious, still reeling from the attack that had taken Yusuf's mother. The second time there had been fewer, but still many.
In the years after that, the number of people sent with him had decreased even further until it was only two or three guards, enough to keep him safe. His father stopped accompanying him on these journeys after he turned fourteen and there had been no sign of their worth.
Now, only Nicolò.
He follows, keeping a respectful distance away from Yusuf, but closer than he had walked before they had gone to meet Nile, to ask for her help. He doesn't ever ask to stop, or to slow down, letting Yusuf set the pace. He keeps a hand on the hilt of his sword and does not speak.
What is there to be said? Nicolò knows what lies at the end of this road, even if he does not know what it will mean for Yusuf.
Yusuf can feel Nicolò's eyes on his back. It is bad enough that the whole kingdom knows he is a failure: he does not need Nicolò to watch him fail and say nothing.
The sun is low, casting the landscape in burnt orange. It would be beautiful were it not so horribly familiar. There is a cabin nearby, and not far from it, the Spring. They will stay in the cabin tonight; they will leave for the Spring in the morning and spend three days there, then return to Goron City and after that, the castle.
Yusuf thinks about returning, about his father's inevitable disappointment, and feels sick.
“Yusuf,” Nicolò says, sounding uncertain. He is not yet used to calling Yusuf by his name. “We are not far, yes?”
Yusuf had forgotten that Nicolò does not know every cursed inch of this road the way Yusuf does. “No, not far. In a moment you'll see the cabin.”
Nicolò says nothing. Yusuf glances back just long enough to meet his eyes before looking away.
What is Nicolò thinking? Yusuf can never tell.
Yusuf catches sight of the cabin a moment later. Dread sits like a stone in his stomach.
When they get closer, Nicolò takes hold of his elbow, gentle. It startles Yusuf all the same - he hadn't realised Nicolò was that close to him.
“Let me go first,” Nicolò says. “To check. But stay close.”
Yusuf nods, and lingers barely a handspan from Nicolò's back while he surveys first the outside, then the inside, of the cabin. Once he's satisfied, he gestures for Yusuf to enter.
“You should rest,” he says, and he is being so gentle with Yusuf it almost hurts. Perhaps Andromache has told him what this will mean for him: she has accompanied him before.
Yusuf shakes his head, because sleep means dreams, and dreams will be worse. “What are you going to do?”
“I am going to find something for dinner,” Nicolò says.
“Let me come with you,” Yusuf says. Anything is better than sitting in this cabin alone with his thoughts.
Nicolò looks at him for a long moment. Perhaps he takes pity on Yusuf, or perhaps he thinks that it will be easier to keep Yusuf safe if he stays with Nicolò. Either way, he nods. “All right.”
----------
Finding something for dinner means that Nicolò leads Yusuf a little way into the woods, far enough that the foliage and the dying sunlight makes it difficult to see, and bids him hide beneath a tree, in a space formed by the roots, while Nicolò crouches beside him with his bow, nocking an arrow in one smooth, seamless motion. From his vantage point, Yusuf can see a small clearing with a few fallen trees.
“Do not move,” Nicolò instructs him in a whisper, “and do not make a sound.”
Yusuf rests his head against the tree and watches the leaves move in the breeze. It is quiet enough that all he can hear is their rustling, the sounds of birds and animals calling to each other, the rushing of the stream nearby. After a moment, and with nothing else to watch, Yusuf begins to watch Nicolò.
He has gone as still and as quiet as the trees around them, barely breathing, his shoulders rising and falling only slightly, like he has become a part of the forest. Faron Woods is much further south from here, but Yusuf supposes that this forest must be somewhat similar to where Nicolò grew up. He wonders who taught him to hunt; who taught him to be so comfortable in this place. Why he left it behind to travel to the castle and work for the king.
There are a lot of things Yusuf wonders about him. He cannot tell if Nicolò is aware of Yusuf’s watching; he must be. Still, Yusuf cannot help but watch.
It happens faster than Yusuf can track. Nicolò goes entirely still, and draws his bow swiftly, silently. Yusuf holds his breath and so does the forest.
Nicolò lets the arrow fly.
Yusuf doesn’t see whether it finds its mark, but Nicolò looks for a moment and then stands. “Wait here,” he says to Yusuf, and then heads for the clearing. When he returns he’s carrying something behind his back, the arrow in his other hand. Blood drips onto the grass.
“You can wait inside while I prepare it, if you prefer,” Nicolò says haltingly. Yusuf shakes his head, and so he sits on a log outside while Nicolò skins the rabbit, arms wrapped around his knees and chin drawn up to his chest. Nicolò keeps his back to Yusuf, shielding most of it from view.
Who taught him this? Yusuf wonders. It is a part of Nicolò he has never seen before.
When it is done, he takes it back inside to cook over the fire, and they eat it alongside the bread and cheese they brought from Goron City, across from each other at the cabin’s little table.
“When do you want to leave, tomorrow?” Nicolò asks softly.
“I don’t,” Yusuf says before he can stop himself, and then adds, “I don’t know. Early, probably.” The thought bursts the little bubble he’s been in since they arrived. He doesn’t want to leave, could stay here for the three days they’ve been allocated and return to his father without even having tried and it would change nothing.
“Just after sunrise, then,” Nicolò says. “It is not far, you said?”
Yusuf shakes his head. “No,” he says. “Not far.”
----------
The water is freezing.
It has always been freezing. But Yusuf knows well enough that if he stands in it for long enough, it will start to warm. It reaches to around halfway up his thigh; when he was younger, it felt deeper.
The stone in front of him offers nothing. No sign, no indication that anything is listening to him except for the water and Nicolò, who has been standing at the gate of the Spring for however long he has been in here. Has he been listening? Has he heard Yusuf pleading for something, anything, dreading the moment he returns to the castle and his father looks down at his left hand and sees nothing there?
What does Nicolò think of him now? If he did not see a failure before, does he see one now?
His legs may be going numb. They tremble beneath him, struggling to hold his weight. How long has he been standing here?
“Tell me what I am doing wrong,” he begs the stone. His voice sounds like it’s coming from somewhere else. “I know I am not the one you wanted, but I am trying. I am trying. I have given everything. I do not know how much more I have left.”
The stone says nothing.
Nicolò says, “Yusuf.”
Yusuf hears him without listening, falls to his knees in the water and does not even feel the chill.
“Please,” he pleads. “I cannot return – I cannot give anymore.”
There is a splash behind him, and then there is Nicolò, pulling him to his feet, pulling him from the water. Yusuf tries to hold fast - he cannot leave now or it will have been three days in the Spring with nothing to show for it.
“Yusuf,” Nicolò says again. His grip is gentle but unrelenting, and he is warm. Yusuf, shivering as he is, can’t help but lean into it. “You are exhausted. You are going to freeze. Come with me.”
“I can’t,” Yusuf says, even as he lets Nicolò take his weight, lets him guide Yusuf out of the Spring. “I can’t.”
There is a small paved area where their camp is set up. Nicolò has kept the fire going, or restarted it, while Yusuf was in there, and he half-carries Yusuf over to it now. Yusuf’s legs buckle under him the moment Nicolò lets him go, and he sinks onto something soft laid over the paving stones. He blinks, and there is a bowl in his hands, warming even if he does not really taste it.
“It was never supposed to be me,” Yusuf says without really meaning to.
From across the fire, Nicolò watches him.
“It was supposed to be my mother,” Yusuf whispers. The only sound between them is the crackling of the fire. Yusuf is so, so tired. He has never said this to anybody else, not even Andromache, but he cannot keep the words from rushing out of him now.
“It came to her when she was nineteen,” he says, “and that’s how they knew it would happen in her lifetime. So she trained, and she mastered it, and we were ready. And then she was killed, and because I was the oldest, it came to me.”
He does not like thinking about this. He has not thought about this in years. They do not speak of it anymore.
Nicolò is still watching him.
“I was asleep when it happened,” Yusuf continues. “I dreamt it as it happened, but I didn’t know until later. The moment she died, I woke up screaming. They told me afterwards that I was– I was glowing, bright enough that nobody could look at me for long or get close enough to see what was happening to me. They just had to wait until I came out of it. It felt like I was burning.” If he closes his eyes, he is there again, twelve years old and terrified.
“That’s how we know it should be me,” he says after a moment. “Who can do it. Because I did, once, but never again, despite all of this.” He waves at the Spring, the water, the stone.
Exhaustion tugs at him. His eyes will not stay open, but he cannot let himself fall asleep, not yet.
“Don’t let me fall asleep,” he tells Nicolò. “There’s still time.” It cannot be late yet; the sun has gone down, but it is not quite dark. “Don’t let me.”
“You have to rest,” Nicolò says. It is the first thing he has said to Yusuf since he pulled him from the Spring, and Yusuf cannot tell what he is thinking.
“I can’t fall asleep,” Yusuf insists.
“At least let yourself warm up first,” Nicolò says. There is a pile of dry clothes in his hands - where did he get them?
Nicolò convinces him to change and to sit back down, to rest a little while longer. This time he steers Yusuf to sit down on his bedroll instead, and Yusuf’s grip on his arm goes tight.
“Don’t let me fall asleep,” he says again.
“You cannot go on like this,” Nicolò says. “Sleep, and I will wake you in a few hours’ time.”
Yes, a few hours. That, Yusuf can afford. “Promise me,” Yusuf says, but his eyes are already closing unbidden.
Nicolò says nothing.
----------
When Yusuf wakes, it is still dark outside, and there is a cloak that is not his own draped over him. Nicolò is crouched over the fire only a short distance away. He catches Yusuf’s eye, but doesn’t say a word.
It all comes crashing back at once: the water, the stone, Nicolò. Yusuf sits up.
“You didn’t wake me,” he says.
Nicolò watches him for a long moment. “You needed the rest,” he says finally.
Suddenly his consideration stings. “That wasn’t your decision to make. What time is it?”
Nicolò glances at the sky. “It will be sunrise soon.”
Yusuf’s heart sinks. Sunrise means return, means return to the castle and his father with nothing. He gets up, pushes Nicolò’s cloak aside. “You should have woken me.”
Unexpectedly, Nicolò pushes back. “You would have only made yourself ill. You were barely conscious. I would not have done it if–”
“That was not your decision to make,” Yusuf snaps. “I am not a child, Nicolò. I am capable of handling myself. I have lost hours.”
Nicolò does not say anything. Yusuf almost wishes he would keep pushing, but he does not. He simply folds himself back into the same blank expression he always carries, and again, Yusuf cannot read him.
“If the sun will rise soon, there is not much use in staying here for much longer,” Nicolò says eventually, quiet. He doesn’t meet Yusuf’s eyes. Guilt twists his stomach.
Did Nicolò know? Did Andromache warn him? Or was he just worried?
Yusuf nods.
They pack up their camp in silence, side by side. By the time they set off on the road back towards Goron City, the sun has risen, and the early light turns the world around them to gold.
Yusuf walks, and Nicolò follows behind him, as always.
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