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berryispunk · 8 days ago

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The Way You See Me

This is part 1/2. Part 2 readable here

pairing: Frankie Morales x f! reader

tags: dual POV, slow burn, some banter, all the emotions, fluff, open communication saves us, heavy on mental health struggles, best friends to lovers, mutual pining, yearning, best friend! Frankie, soft! Frankie, idiots in love, kissing, tension

summary: Two people pretending it’s nothing. A missed kiss, a camping trip, one tent, and way too many lingering glances. They keep telling themselves it’s safer as friends—but gravity doesn’t care.

word count: 7,2 k

notes: I am absolutely insane so I’m working on part 2 to this already, oops—

read on ao3

It had been pouring all day — not outside, but in your head. A storm of tsunami intensity, relentless and unforgiving. You were drowning in it, the waves dragging you under, and you were just so tired of swimming against the current. So you stayed home, even though you had plans with friends. They called, they texted, but you didn’t have the energy to answer. You barely moved from your bed, only getting up for the bathroom or to grab a snack.

Outside, the sky was turning dark, but it was nothing compared to the heaviness inside you. You were running on autopilot, going through the motions without any real direction — just clinging to whatever driftwood you could find to stay afloat. You thought about reaching out, letting someone in, even just a little. But how do you explain a storm that never stops brewing? Besides, you were convinced the people in your life would be better off without you.

You were nearing the end of your twenties and what did you have to show for it? Nothing worth bragging about. You were barely scraping by while your peers seemed to be thriving — making five-year plans, building futures. And you? You got up each day and waited to see what the vibes were. You felt behind, like you were watching life from the sidelines, a passenger in your own story when you were supposed to be behind the wheel.

It was frustrating — deeply, bitterly frustrating. You dreaded conversations about careers and future plans, knowing you could barely hold yourself together. Bringing someone else into that chaos felt reckless. So you stayed alone. Even though, in the quietest moments — the ones where your mind screamed the loudest — you wished more than anything for a shoulder to lean on.

The only person who knew some of your struggles -but never the full picture-was your best friend, Frankie. He carried his own weight, too. The aftermath of serving had left marks on him, not always visible, but always present. You’d met him through mutual friends, and at first, you weren’t convinced. He was too quiet, always hovering on the edges of the group, more observer than participant. But it didn’t take long to realize something about Frankie: he noticed everything. He read people like well-worn pages, never intrusive, just… aware.

So you were caught off guard the first time he actually spoke to you. The two of you had drifted a little away from the crowd during one of those loud, chaotic get-togethers. Frankie leaned in slightly, voice low and a little amused as he said, “You also have no clue what they’re talking about, do you?”

You turned to him slowly, eyeing him from head to toe, raising a brow. “Excuse me?” you replied, bristling a little at the audacity.

He just grinned, not in a mocking way — more like someone who had already figured you out and wasn’t in a rush to prove it.

From there, the rest was history. He somehow—sneakily, effortlessly—got your number and texted you one night out of nowhere. You’d never admit it, not even to yourself at the time, but it mattered. More than it should have. Something about it felt like being seen in a way you hadn’t realized you’d been aching for. And even though you played it cool, casually texting back like it was no big deal, a small part of you exhaled for the first time in a while.

[Unknown Number] [10:03 PM]You looked like you were mentally disassociating at that party. Thought I’d check in.

[You] [10:06 PM] Who is this and how did you get my number??

[Unknown Number] [10:07 PM] Relax, not a stalker. Frankie. From the other night.Got it from Lia. Don’t yell at her, I was very charming about it.

[You] [10:09 PM] Wow, stealthy.So you make a habit of texting girls who ignore you at parties?

[Frankie] [10:10 PM] Only the ones who look like they’d rather be swallowed by the floor than make small talk.You seemed like you could use an escape hatch. Figured this might count.

[You] [10:12 PM] That’s bold for someone who barely said two words.

[Frankie] [10:13 PM] Two words were all it took, apparently.You raise a good eyebrow, by the way. Very intimidating.

[You] [10:14 PM] I’ve been told it’s my most developed muscle.So what, you check in on all the emotionally avoidant people you meet?

[Frankie] [10:16 PM] Only the ones who pretend they’re not lonely.You were easier to read than you think.

[You] [10:17 PM]…Okay wow. That’s not allowed this early in the conversation.Try being mysterious again. I was enjoying that.

[Frankie] [10:18 PM] You’re right. Let me guess your star sign instead.

[You] [10:19 PM] If you say Gemini I’m blocking you.

[Frankie] [10:20 PM] Nah, you’re too tired of everyone’s shit to be a Gemini.Scorpio, maybe. Or a Capricorn with trust issues.

[You] [10:21 PM] Okay. Who are you??

[Frankie] [10:22 PM] Just a guy who thought you looked like you needed someone to talk to.No pressure. Just… here, if you want.

[You] [10:25 PM] …Thanks. I might take you up on that.

[Frankie] [10:26 PM] I’m good at puzzles. And bad at shutting up once I start.So… you’ve been warned.

A few days later — 11:47 PM

[Frankie] Be honest. Did you ghost me or are you just being mysterious again?

[You] I was waiting to see if you'd double text. Gotta keep the power dynamic healthy.

[Frankie] Leo. 100%. Knew I was close with the trust issues, though.

[You] HOW ??? I never even told you.

[Frankie] You have main character energy. Also I googled “eyebrow raise of death + zodiac” and Leo came up.

[You] Fair.Still. Feels invasive. I should sue.

[Frankie] Go ahead. I’ll represent myself. I’m charming under pressure.

A week later — 2:14 AM

[You]Can’t sleep. Brain won’t shut up.

Your phone buzzed almost immediately.

[Frankie] Same.What’s keeping you up?

[You] Everything and nothing. You ever feel like you’re treading water in a pool no one remembers you’re in?

[Frankie] Every day.But hey, I see you. Even when you try to disappear.

[Frankie] That was probably too much.I can send a meme about ducks in pants to balance it out.

[You] No, that was actually…That was good.But send the duck meme anyway.

Later that week — 6:39 PM

[Frankie] What’s your comfort food when the world sucks?

[You] Depends. Spicy noodles if I’m mad. French fries if I’m sad.Why?

[Frankie] Be there in 20. Don’t dress up. Or do. You’d win best dressed regardless.

An hour later, you were on your couch, laughing through a mouthful of fries while he sat on the floor, back against the coffee table, telling you a story about his first tattoo and how he almost passed out. His eyes flicked up every now and then—checking you over like he was making sure you were still breathing easier. And you were.

Later that night — 1:11 AM [Frankie] Tonight was good. You seemed lighter.

[You] I was. It’s weird, you just… make space. And I don’t know how you do that.

[Frankie] Maybe I’m just good at seeing what other people pretend not to. Or maybe I just like the sound of your laugh and want to hear it again :)

Tonight, as you lost another day to the darkness crowding your mind, you lay still, staring blankly at your phone screen like it might eventually offer answers to questions you hadn’t found the words for. The notifications blurred together, too many to matter — until one lit up the screen, standing out in quiet contrast.

[Frankie] [9:17 PM] The group chat’s chaos again. Benny’s arguing that nachos count as a balanced meal and Lia’s threatening to make a spreadsheet about it.Same idiots, basically.

You stared at the message for a long moment. No pressure. No asking where you were or why you hadn’t shown up. Just… that. A thread gently held out in your direction.

[You] [9:19 PM] Sounds like I picked the right night to stay home.

[Frankie] [9:20 PM] You say that, but Benny made nachos shaped like ghosts and called them “emotional support snacks.” You missed some art.

[You] [9:21 PM] I’ll live.

You paused. Fingers hovered over the screen.

[You] [9:22 PM]...Just didn’t have the energy today. Everything felt like too much.

A beat, then:

[Frankie] [9:24 PM] Yeah. I figured.No judgment.Just thought I’d remind you we’re still out here. Even if you’re not up for being part of it right now :)

You swallowed. Something loosened in your chest.

[You] [9:25 PM] You’re annoyingly good at this.

[Frankie] [9:26 PM] Nah. Just been in the same place enough to recognize the silence.

There was a silence after that — but this one felt easier. A quiet with space to breathe.

[You] [11:41 PM] Still up?

[Frankie] [11:42 PM] Yeah. Sleep and I are barely on speaking terms these days.

[You] [11:43 PM] Cool.I just… didn’t want the last message to be the end of the conversation.

[Frankie] [11:44 PM] Good, me neither.You okay?

[You] [11:45 PM] Not really.But also nothing happened. It’s just one of those nights. You know?

[Frankie] [11:46 PM] Yeah. The ones where even breathing feels like effort.

You didn’t respond right away. Your apartment was quiet, the kind of quiet that made the air feel heavier. You stared at the door like maybe, if you wished hard enough, someone might be on the other side.

[You] [11:50 PM] What would you be doing right now if you weren’t texting me?

[Frankie] [11:51 PM] Probably pacing around my place. Trying to pretend the silence doesn’t get to me.Why?

[You] [11:52 PM] No reason.Just… my couch is kind of empty. Fries are gone. Silence sucks here too.

There was no reply for a moment. You were about to send a follow-up — something deflective, something light — when another text appeared.

[Frankie] [11:54 PM] I’ll be there in 15. You don’t have to talk. Or smile, or clean anything. Just unlock the door, okay?

Fifteen minutes later, there was a soft knock. And when you opened it, he was standing there — hoodie pulled over his head, a bag of chips in one hand, and that familiar look in his eyes. The one that said I see you. You don’t have to explain. He didn’t ask what was wrong. He just kicked off his shoes, sat beside you on the couch, and let the silence exist without making it heavier.

Frankie just stayed. Solid and still and there and for the first time all day, the storm inside your chest quieted just enough to breathe.

It had been an hour.

The TV was on, low volume, playing something neither of you were watching. You sat with your legs tucked beneath you, hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, eyes heavy but not tired. Frankie was next to you, close but not quite touching — not at first. But somewhere between the silence and the soft flicker of screenlight, his knee brushed yours.

Neither of you moved.

You didn’t talk much. Every now and then, he’d glance at you — not in a way that asked for anything, but in that quiet, consistent way he always had. The kind that saw through your walls without making you feel exposed. But this time, it felt different.

You turned toward him, and your eyes met — not briefly. Not the way friends glance and look away. You held it.

He looked at you like he was trying to memorize something. Like he wanted to say something but didn’t want to scare it away. His gaze dropped, lingered on your mouth a second too long before he cleared his throat and looked back at the TV.

Your heart thudded wildly.

“I’m glad you texted me,” he said, voice low. “Didn’t like the thought of you sitting here alone tonight.”

You didn’t answer right away. Just shifted slightly, letting your shoulder press into his arm. He didn’t move.

“I almost didn’t,” you murmured. “Didn’t want to bother you.”

“You never do,” he said, too quickly. “Seriously. If it’s you—I’ll show up. Doesn’t matter the hour.”

Your stomach flipped.

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It was thick. Like the air was holding its breath.

You tilted your head toward him again, slower this time.

He looked over, eyes dark, unreadable, but his jaw had gone tense like he was bracing for something. You weren’t even sure what you were about to say. Just that the air between you had changed. And part of you wanted to fall into it.

But then your phone buzzed, loud against the quiet. You blinked and just like that the spell broke.

Frankie leaned back just slightly, gave a quiet laugh like he’d been caught leaning too far over an edge. “Guess the universe says that’s my cue to shut up.”

You didn’t push it. But you didn’t move away, either.

And for the rest of the night, something hung between you—unspoken but real. Something you both felt.

He hadn’t meant to say it like that. Hadn’t meant to let it slip past his teeth, so low and careful and honest. But when you looked at him—really looked at him—Frankie forgot to guard the edges.

He leaned back because it scared him a little. The way silence between you wasn’t awkward anymore. The way your eyes held his for just a second too long. The way his chest tightened, not in panic but in something gentler, quieter, more dangerous.

You were still close—close enough that he could smell the faint scent of your shampoo, that warm thing that always clung to your skin like a memory he hadn’t earned. And when you didn’t move away, didn’t joke or retreat or hide behind that sharp wit of yours, Frankie knew something had shifted.

But he didn’t push it, he just sat there with you, shoulder brushing shoulder, knees almost touching. The TV played quietly in the background, the flickering light casting soft shadows across your face. He let you lean your head back on the couch. Watched the way your eyes slowly blinked, heavy with exhaustion, but calmer than earlier.

You looked… lighter. Not fixed. Not suddenly okay. But not drowning anymore. He took that as a small win.

And maybe it was selfish, but he didn’t leave.

Frankie stayed. Even after you dozed off with your head tilted slightly toward him, even after the credits rolled and the room went quiet. He stayed in that space between a friend and something else he didn’t name yet. Stayed still, watching the rise and fall of your chest, letting the warmth of the moment settle somewhere deep in his ribs.

He knew the line was thin. Knew this could crack everything if he reached too far.

But damn if he didn’t want to.

Just for a second, he let himself imagine it—what it might feel like to reach over and thread his fingers through yours. To press his lips to your temple. To tell you that he meant it—that he sees you, always has, even when you’re trying your hardest to disappear.

Instead, he sat in the quiet and watched you breathe. Guarded your peace like it was something sacred. When you shifted in your sleep and murmured his name—barely audible, but real—Frankie closed his eyes and let himself hope.

At some point during the quiet, sleep crept up on him too. He didn’t remember closing his eyes—just the low hum of the TV, the warmth of the room, the steady rhythm of your breathing beside him. It felt safe, something he rarely ever felt since returning from service. When he stirred hours later, the light outside was a faint silver, the kind of early morning that painted the world soft and half-real.

And you were there.

Not beside him anymore—but curled up ,somehow, with your head resting in his lap.

Frankie blinked slowly, the sleep not fully shaken off, and looked down at you. Your legs tucked up, one arm curled around yourself like you hadn’t meant to move at all. Your cheek pressed against his thigh, lips parted slightly in sleep, hair a bit messy from shifting around.

He stilled completely at this sight, a thousand things ran through his mind—but louder than all of them was the quiet awe. Like something rare had landed in his hands and he wasn’t sure how to hold it without ruining it.

You were always careful with space, with touch. So this was something else entirely. Unintentional maybe, but unguarded. A side of you he rarely saw.

Gently, he reached down and brushed a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering for half a second too long near your temple.

And that’s when you stirred. Your eyes blinked open slowly, and at first, you didn’t move. Just looked up, a beat of soft confusion passing between you. Then realization hit.

You bolted upright, not abrupt but tense, like waking from a dream you weren’t sure you should’ve had. “Shit—sorry,” you mumbled, rubbing your face with your sleeve, not quite looking at him. “Didn’t mean to— That wasn’t—”

“It’s okay,” Frankie said quickly, voice still low and sleep-rough. “You were out. I didn’t mind.”

You nodded, still avoiding his eyes as you scooted back a bit, putting a little space between you. Not a wall, but a buffer.

“I must’ve shifted in my sleep,” you offered, the words clumsy and thin. “Wasn’t trying to be weird.”

“I know,” he said softly. “Wasn’t weird, promise.”

But it kind of was. Not in a bad way—just in a way that meant something had changed. And now, in the grey morning light, you were both painfully aware of it.

The atmosphere was warm,charged—like a wire had been brushed and now everything was humming a little too loud.

Frankie leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “You okay?” he asked after a beat, quieter now.

You glanced at him, eyes softer but still guarded. “Yeah. Just… didn’t mean to cross a line.”

He shook his head. “You didn’t.”

But he didn’t smile and neither did you, because some lines didn’t need to be crossed with intention to leave a mark.

And both of you were feeling it now—in the hush between words, in the echo of how natural it had felt to rest against each other, like you’d done it a hundred times before.

Neither of you said what lingered in the air afterwards, this big little thing that felt like it had a life on its own.

The kitchen was still cloaked in that fragile kind of morning quiet, the kind that made everything feel closer, heavier.

You moved automatically, going through the motions—grabbing mugs, flicking the switch on the kettle, pulling out the coffee tin with muscle memory alone. Your hands were steady, but your thoughts weren’t. Every time you glanced toward the living room and saw Frankie still sitting there, rubbing sleep from his eyes, the knot in your stomach pulled tighter.

He hadn’t said anything else since waking up.

But he hadn’t left, either.

You reached up to the cupboard for the sugar, standing on your toes—and suddenly he was behind you.

“Want me to grab it?” he asked, voice close enough that you felt it more than heard it.

You startled slightly, bumping into him with a soft thud. “Fuck—sorry, didn’t hear you come in.”

“It’s okay,” he said, but his hand had come to rest on your waist—just for a second, steadying you, barely there. But it lingered long enough to light a fuse in your chest.

You didn’t breathe until he stepped back.

The silence stretched as you poured the water, the steam rising between you, thin and ghostlike. You passed him a mug, your fingers brushing his—too gentle to be an accident, too fleeting to be addressed.

His eyes flicked to yours for a heartbeat, unreadable. “Thanks.”

“Yeah,” you murmured, suddenly fascinated with the swirl of coffee in your cup. “No problem.”

You both leaned against opposite counters, holding your mugs like shields, pretending the space between you wasn’t thick with whatever had shifted overnight.

“I didn’t mean to…” you started, but the words trailed off.

He didn’t push. Just sipped his coffee, eyes watching you over the rim. “I know.”

And maybe that was worse. That he knew—and still wasn’t moving away. Still standing close enough that you could smell him. Still looking at you like you hadn’t just curled up in his lap a few hours ago like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The kettle clicked off behind you, forgotten.

“Your friends,” you said suddenly, desperate to break the air, “they’d be disappointed you didn’t show up last night.”

He gave a quiet huff of laughter, looking down at his mug. “They were the same idiots as always. They barely noticed.”

You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “I would’ve noticed.”

He looked up, really looked, something unspoken passed between you again. A current, or a question neither of you were ready to ask.

You turned back to the counter, pretending to fix your coffee.

Behind you, he spoke, voice lower now, treading carefully “You sure you’re okay?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

But your hand trembled slightly as you set the spoon down and you knew he saw it, had to.

He didn’t call it out. Just stepped a little closer, mug still in hand, close enough that the edge of his arm brushed yours.

Neither of you moved away and you really didn’t know who moved first. Maybe it was him, maybe it was you. But somehow you were standing too close, not touching, not quite—but almost. Another almost.

Frankie set his mug down on the counter with a soft clink, the sound sharp in the otherwise quiet room. His eyes stayed on you—soft, unreadable, patient in that way he always was, like he never wanted to scare you off. Like he was waiting for you to make the call.

Your breath caught when he reached up—slow, tentative—and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers were careful, feather-light, but the warmth of his touch lingered long after he pulled his hand away.

You didn’t say anything, couldn’t even if you wanted to.Because now, there were only inches between you and it took the air from your lungs.

Your heartbeat sped up, hammering in your ears.

He leaned in just slightly, his voice low. “Tell me to stop and I will.”

It wasn’t a tease. There was no smirk, no cocky edge to his tone. Just a quiet request, wrapped in a kind of reverence that nearly undid you.

And for one breathless second, it felt like gravity shifted between you—like something inevitable was about to happen.

But then—

Your phone buzzed, sharp and jarring against the counter, slicing clean through the moment.

You flinched, just enough to step back, and whatever had been building between you shattered—sudden and brittle, like glass underfoot.

You didn’t look at the screen. You didn’t need to. The spell had broken, again.

Frankie stepped back too, blinking like he’d only just remembered where he was. He scratched the back of his neck and let out a soft breath that sounded like a laugh—but it wasn’t. Not really.

“Right,” he said, nodding once. Like he understood. Like he’d been waiting for the interruption all along. It landed heavier than it should have, a quiet sting in your chest, even though he probably didn’t mean it that way.

You turned back to the coffee, focusing on the mug like it could anchor you. “I should get dressed for the day...”

He nodded again. “Yeah, yeah of course.”

You slipped out of the kitchen with your heart pounding, the ghost of his touch still burning on your skin.

The plan had been in place for weeks. A weekend camping trip—just the group, no cell reception, no excuses. He wasn’t going to go. Had half a dozen reasons not to. But none of them stuck once Benny showed up at his door, grinning like a devil and throwing him a bag of trail mix like that settled it.

"Don’t be a ghost, man," Benny had said. "She’s coming."

Frankie didn’t ask who she was. He didn’t have to.

And now here he was, standing ankle-deep in soft dirt while the late afternoon sun bled gold over the trees, watching your car door slam shut. His stomach did something annoying at the sight of you stepping out, wind-blown and smiling faintly, like you weren’t quite sure you’d made the right choice by showing up either. You hadn’t looked at him yet. But he felt it anyway—that quiet current that had lived between you ever since that night back at your apartment.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and looked out at the lake, pretending he wasn’t already a little unraveled.

The campsite was beautiful. Dense trees, soft moss underfoot, and a lake that glimmered like it had been carved from glass. Everyone fanned out, unpacking coolers and gear and arguing over who forgot what. There was music coming from Benny’s car, something old and loud and badly sung along to.

And then your voice cut through it: “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Frankie turned. You were crouched beside your bag, frustration etched into every line of your face. Pieces of tent poles lay scattered on the ground like broken bones, and the rest was nowhere to be seen.

“Problem?” Santi called, already laughing.

You held up a tent bag like it had personally betrayed you. “I either forgot the actual tent or packed the world’s saddest kite.”

There were groans, and someone yelled 'rookie mistake' and someone else suggested duct tape and tarp. But eventually Benny, ever the ringleader, clapped his hands and declared, “Only one solution. Draw matches. Losers share their tent.”

Frankie knew—he just knew—what the universe was about to do to him.

The sticks were torn from a granola box and held up like some ancient rite. One by one, the guys picked theirs. Frankie went last.

When he looked down, it was the shortest stick.

A beat of silence. Then a chorus of oohs and Benny’s terrible drumroll on a cooler lid.

Frankie didn’t even glance at them. He looked straight at you.

And this time, you looked back. Your eyes met his like you’d been waiting for it—and damn if it didn’t do something stupid to his chest. You didn’t smile, didn’t smirk. But your gaze held, quiet and unreadable. Heavy with something neither of you had put into words.

Frankie cleared his throat. “Guess I’m the lucky one.”

You arched a brow., arms crossed defensively. “That’s one way to put it.”

He nodded slowly, heart doing double-time, already dreading and anticipating the moment night would fall.

No escape. No couch cushions or coffee mugs to serve as shields between you.

Just one thin tent wall and all the silence you still hadn’t broken.

You weren’t sure how it got so quiet.

Everyone else had turned in. The fire had died hours ago, and now the campsite was just a rhythm of distant snores, rustling leaves, and the occasional crack of branches shifting in the cool night. Inside the tent, it was still and dark—too still. You lay on your back, cocooned in your sleeping bag, barely breathing, aware of every inch of the man beside you.

Frankie was close. Not touching you, but close enough that you could feel his warmth, hear the soft exhale of his breath, smell the faint mix of campfire and whatever clean laundry detergent he used.

And god, you wanted it. The warmth. The comfort. The steadiness of him. You wanted to curl into it, let yourself have it—just for a moment. But you stayed frozen. Afraid that even the smallest move would tip everything over the edge.

Your mind wouldn’t shut up.

You kept thinking about the almost-kiss. About how it lingered between you like a thread that hadn’t snapped. You thought about his hand brushing yours that morning in your kitchen, how your breath had caught in your throat like something sacred had passed between you. You thought about falling asleep on him, about waking up there—on him—and how he didn’t push you away.

And you thought about how terrified you were of needing someone. Of needing him.

The silence clawed at you, unbearable.

You turned slightly, your sleeping bag crinkling loud in the dark. “Frankie,” you whispered.

He shifted. “Yeah?”

“I think about that morning,” you said, voice soft. “The almost-kiss.”

The silence stretched.

You swallowed hard. “I think about it a lot actually..”

Still, he didn’t speak. But you could hear how sharply he breathed in.

“I just… I don’t know. I’ve convinced myself you’re better off when we keep some distance.” You stared up at the ceiling, blinking slowly. “Because I’m a mess, Frankie. Not the cute kind. The ‘can’t even be alone with myself for too long without falling apart’ kind. And I guess I’m scared of what it means to let you get closer.”

More silence, but it didn’t feel empty, it felt full. Like something inside it was shifting.

Then you heard his voice, low and gravel-soft, barely more than breath. “I know.”

You blinked, unsure if you imagined it.

“I know you’re struggling. I’ve always known more than I let on,” he said. “I didn’t want to push. Didn’t want to make it worse.”

You turned your head just slightly toward the shape of him in the dark.

“I haven’t said much about my own shit either,” Frankie continued. “But you should know—I’m still in recovery. Still fighting the edge of it every day. My temper’s not great, I lose patience faster than I should. Some days I hate myself. Other days I just feel… hollow.”

Your heart cracked a little.

“I don’t usually let people in. It’s been a long time since someone made me want to.” His voice went quiet. “But you did. And you never treated me like I was broken. You just… saw me. All of me. And it gave me this stupid illusion that maybe I wasn’t too far gone.”

You turned toward him then.

The space between you was barely a breath. You reached out slowly, fingers grazing his chest, resting just over his heart.

“You’re the best guy I ever met, Frankie,” you said, voice steady despite the lump in your throat. “For real. And none of this—your past, your battles, any of it—makes you any less valuable.”

His breath hitched.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The tension between you wasn’t sharp anymore—it was tender. Fragile. A thing you both held gently in your hands.

Frankie turned to face you too, his forehead just inches from yours, and in the dark, it felt like the whole world had narrowed to just this—just you and him.

You didn’t say anything else, you didn’t need to.

The morning came too soon.

Sunlight filtered through the nylon walls of the tent, warm and golden, and you woke slowly, disoriented by how calm you felt. Frankie was still beside you, quiet and breathing steadily. You didn’t know if he was awake yet, and you didn’t dare look. You just listened for a moment—to the breeze outside, birds in the trees, someone cursing over trying to get the fire started.

Eventually, you rolled out of the sleeping bag and changed into fresh clothes, not looking back.

By the time you joined the others, coffee was brewing over the flames and the boys were already half-alive and throwing jabs at each other. You sat on the log bench next to Benny, who passed you a metal mug without looking.

“Sleep okay?” he asked casually.

You just nodded, eyes flicking to Frankie across the fire. He was already looking.

Your gaze met for a second too long—soft, searching, warm—and it did something stupid to your chest.

No one said anything. But you felt it. You both did.

Later, the sun climbed higher and someone—probably Benny—declared it “prime lake hour.” Everyone agreed with groggy enthusiasm, and swim trunks and towels came out. You stayed behind a moment in the tent, staring down at your bikini, stomach tight with hesitation. It was cute. Objectively. But that didn’t mean you felt good in it.

When you stepped out, arms crossed over your bare middle, Frankie was standing barefoot near the treeline in the world’s most ridiculous swim shorts—sky blue, patterned with rubber ducks like a fever dream. It made you laugh before you could help it.

He turned at the sound, eyebrows lifting when he saw you. “There she is,” he said, that easy smirk tugging at his lips. “Took you long enough.”

“I was deciding whether to fake a leg injury.”

“Should’ve gone with amnesia,” he said. “It’s more dramatic.”

You laughed again, and—somehow—you didn’t feel so tense in your skin anymore.

Then Benny cannonballed into the water, screaming like a child. Santi followed with a cocky, slow-motion dive. Will, of course, gave a tiny, polite whoop before launching himself in.

That left just you and Frankie standing at the edge of the dock.

You glanced at each other.

“Race you,” he said, already grinning.

“You’re on.”

You both took off at the same time, feet slapping the wood, laughing like you’d already won. You hit the water seconds apart—cold and shocking and exhilarating. You surfaced gasping, blinking away the brightness, and when your eyes found Frankie, you were already swimming toward him without thinking.

He was floating just a little ways off, hair wet and curling wildly at his temples, eyes squinting against the sun, droplets glinting on his skin like gold dust. He was laughing quietly to himself, mouth slightly open, and when he saw you approaching, he raised an eyebrow.

“What?” he asked, teasing.

You flushed just a little. “Nothing.”

“Oh, it’s something. You were staring.”

You rolled your eyes. “You wish.”

“Don’t need to wish,” he said, cocky and soft at the same time. “I know.”

You dunked him or at least tried.

He yelped, grabbed at your wrists, and in seconds had pulled you under with him, both of you sinking briefly into the quiet blue.

And something happened there—under the water, beneath the surface noise of the world. Everything felt still. Weightless, safe.

You didn’t think. You just moved—arms sliding around his neck, legs curling instinctively around his waist. Frankie didn’t ask questions. He didn’t need to. He just held you there, his hands finding the small of your back like it was the most natural thing in the world.

You both stayed suspended for a moment too long, eyes locked, hair floating between you like ink in water. His gaze was steady, wide, real, and you couldn’t look away.

Then—

“Yo! Stop making out under there, fish freaks!”

Benny’s voice broke through the surface like a bad joke, followed by a splash that hit too close.

You gasped and broke away, popping up with a sputter.

Frankie surfaced beside you, wiping water from his face, grinning like he hadn’t just had the wind knocked out of him emotionally. “I’m gonna kill him,” he muttered.

You laughed despite yourself, blinking water from your lashes. “Get in line.”

The fire cracked loud in the silence, hissing as a log shifted and sent sparks spiraling upward into the night. The lake behind them lapped gently at the shore. Bugs buzzed in the thick summer air. Someone passed around a half-empty bag of marshmallows and a mostly dead lighter. Benny told a story that probably started out true and ended in a full-blown lie.

Frankie barely heard a word of it.

You were sitting beside him. Close. Shoulder against his, legs stretched out, toes tucked near the edge of the firelight. You’d been soft all evening—unguarded in a way that made his chest feel like it had been cracked open with a crowbar.

And then you laughed. Head tilted back, sunlight in your voice even though it was long past sunset. Without thinking, you leaned into him, head resting on his shoulder like it was second nature.

You hugged his arm and Frankie forgot how to breathe for a second.

It wasn’t just the touch. It was the weight of it. The ease. The way your fingers curled around his bicep like they belonged there, like he wasn’t some danger to your peace, like you weren’t scared of him the way you sometimes seemed to be. And that—god, that did something to him. Melted him from the inside out.

He sat as still as he could, afraid if he shifted even slightly, you’d realize what you were doing and pull away.

You didn’t.

The warmth spread through him slow and molten, thick and sweet in his veins. He stared at the fire, but his senses were full of you. The smell of your shampoo, the soft sound of your breathing, the lazy shape your fingers made against his arm.

Across the flames, Santi looked up from his beer and met his eyes, one brow raised. Frankie gave him nothing back. Just the tiniest shrug, like don’t you fucking say a word.

Santi didn’t. Neither did Will, who definitely noticed but kept his face turned toward the fire. Benny just snored softly, half-asleep on a log with a marshmallow stuck to his shirt.

Frankie let out a slow breath. Let his head tilt just enough to brush yours. Didn’t dare move more than that.

He didn’t need more, not right now.

This was already more than he thought he’d ever get.

And it felt like something, something worth to hold onto.

The zipper buzzed softly behind him as he ducked into the tent. The air was cooler now, the fire burned down to coals outside, the lake settled into glass. Most of the guys had knocked out where they sat or stumbled to their tents half-asleep.

You followed a few minutes later.

Frankie lay on his back, hands behind his head, trying to look casual even though his pulse kicked up the second he heard the nylon rustle.

You crawled in with that quiet way of yours, the kind that made it feel like you belonged there. Like this wasn’t just a random arrangement of bad luck and missing tent poles.

It was dark, save for the moonlight slipping through the thin fabric above them. Still, he didn’t need to see you to know where you were—he could feel you. Every inch. Every breath. Like his body had memorized your gravity.

Minutes passed in silence.

Then—

“You make me feel safe,” you whispered, sudden and raw in the dark. “You know that?”

His breath caught.

“Like I don’t need to keep my guard up all the time. And I’ve never had that before.”

Frankie turned his head slightly, could just make out your silhouette now. You were still staring up at the roof of the tent, like if you looked at him, you might not get the words out.

“You don’t see the mess,” you went on, voice a little unsteady. “You see me. The me I mostly don’t even meet myself. And it scares me shitless, but I also… I don’t know, it’s good. Please just—keep doing that. Wherever it lands.”

He blinked hard.

God, you didn’t even know what that did to him.

He shifted, just enough to turn onto his side. Your face was barely visible in the moonlight—eyes wide and vulnerable, like you’d just handed him something breakable and weren’t sure if he’d hold it right.

His throat felt thick. Words weren’t his thing, not like this. But he’d be damned if he didn’t try.

“I love your laugh,” he said softly. “You know that?”

You looked surprised, breath catching.

Frankie smiled faintly, gaze tracing the line of your cheek. “It’s—fuck, it’s beautiful. Makes something settle in me. Every time I hear it, it’s like I get a little reminder that good things exist. That you exist.”

The silence between you stretched, but it wasn’t empty. It was so full it ached.

And then, barely above a whisper, he added, “So yeah… I’ll keep doing that. Seeing you. Because every version of you I’ve seen so far has been worth it.”

You turned to face him then. Closer now. His breath stilled as your hand found his chest again, warm and gentle like the night before.

And for the first time in a long time, Frankie didn’t feel like a man carrying too much weight.

He just felt wanted.

Your fingers rested lightly on his chest, just over the steady beat of his heart. You felt it jump the moment you touched him, and maybe yours did too. It was so quiet you could hear every breath, the rustle of nylon, the night sounds muffled outside the tent walls.

And still—it felt like the loudest thing in the world was the space between your bodies.

You didn’t know how long you lay there like that. Staring at him, feeling him breathe under your palm. It should’ve been small. But it felt enormous. Like your world shifting on its axis.

Your fingers curled slightly into the fabric of his shirt. Old, worn down and loved. Safe. Like everything about him felt. You couldn’t look away from his mouth, the way it parted just a little as your gaze dropped there. Your breath hitched before you even moved.

Still, you leaned in.

Soft, slow, tentative. Not quite a kiss. Just the beginning of one. The question of it.

And then, just before your lips could brush his, Frankie whispered, “I really would like to kiss you. Would that be okay?”

The way he said it—like it mattered. Like you mattered and all you could do was nodding, barely able to find your voice. “Yeah… please.”

And when it happened, it wasn’t like you imagined. It wasn’t fireworks or a movie scene or something dramatic.

It was careful and so gentle it made something ache in your chest.

His hand slid up, cradling your cheek, thumb brushing just beneath your eye. His lips met yours like he’d never been more sure of anything.

You kissed him back just as slow, like neither of you wanted to break it. Like this might be the first real moment of your life where you weren’t running from something, weren’t hiding.

Just here. With him, in this moment that stretched and made heat bloom in you.

And when you finally pulled away, your forehead stayed pressed to his. Both of you breathing quietly and unevenly.

You whispered, “That okay?”

Frankie let out a soft, breathless laugh, like you’d just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. “That was more than okay.”

Your smile broke before you could stop it, and this time when you laughed he kissed you again.

Just because he could.

thanks for reading 💌

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oristian · 1 year ago

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ELUCIEN | GWYNRIEL — MAASVERSE SPOILERS

I tend to see posts and videos from a multitude of people who seem to be reluctant to accept foreshadowing in the ACOTAR books—specifically regarding the endgame couples to finish out the overall series. As this post is simply beating a dead horse down, I find that it is very much needed as a specific group of people lack the capacity to understand the books.

Foreshadowing is not meant to be obvious. There are, of course, cases where it is relatively obvious, but only within the parameters of back-to-back scenes. Foreshadowing is meant to be picked up on, but to be fully understand later on in the story when everything comes to fruition. Examples of foreshadowing include color descriptions, specific use of language, emphasis on certain scenes, emphasis surrounding specific objects, et cetera. If something happens obviously and you can read the scene as-is, it is not foreshadowing.

I see many people who ship Elriel claim that there is buildup across the entire series that foreshadows why they will be endgame. As the books do not support that claim, it is outlandish and a spread of misinformation. Allow me to disprove this theory using the books alone:

— 🌸 ACOTAR: Zero interactions between Elain and Azriel as Azriel had not been introduced as a character yet. This book highlighted Feyre surmising that Elain would thrive within the Spring Court, that her sister enjoyed typical emissary work, and instead introduced Lucien as a character.

— 🦢 ACOMAF: This is the first book where Elain and Azriel met, as is this is where many Elriels like to claim that the Elriel build-up begins. However, this book says otherwise. Elain and Azriel’s first meeting is neutral, quiet conversation to ease a tense situation as Nesta/Feyre/Cassian/Rhys were creating an uncomfortable atmosphere and Elain meant to ease it. This book highlighted how in love Azriel was with Mor and how Elain was engaged to Grayson. Many Elriels also claim that the color of Elain’s dress in this first meeting—being cobalt—is indicative of endgame between she and Azriel. However, cobalt is also the signature color of Grayson’s family crest. Their interactions die out after that first meeting and instead focus on Feysand again. The throne room scene in Hybern also showed the beginning of Elucien and their mate bond, while Azriel was on the floor reaching for Mor. (I go more into this on my Tik Tok page: @oristian)

— 🔥 ACOWAR: When Feyre returns to the Night Court after her month in Spring, she finds that Elain has been within a catatonic state for the entirety of that month and has shown no signs of recovering—that is, until Lucien came along. Elain began eating and moving around once he came and after tugging on the mating bond, her visions first started showing. themselves. Everyone likes to credit Azriel for most of this, but all that Azriel did (take her to the garden) was suggested previously by Lucien. Lucien, who was not able to be alone with her due to Nesta and Feyre. Next, everyone tends to say that Azriel “saw” Elain when he named her power. “What we need is …” Contradicts such a thing. Naming a power does not cure someone of their trauma. Lucien is also canonically the first character to take Elain’s visions seriously and went in search of Vassa, ultimately finding Papa Archeron and creating an even deeper connection into the Koschei plot arc with Elain. This is also where we get the iconic half-step on the stair scene.

Elain is now kidnapped by the cauldron portraying itself as Graysen—Elain wanting so badly to be with her previous lover. This is a scene where many Elriels claim that it is supportive of Elriel being endgame. However, it is within character for Azriel to save someone, especially people close to him. Certainly, Elain being appreciative of being saved and kissing him on the cheek is cute, but that is not enough “foreshadowing” for an endgame. Next, Azriel hands her Truth Teller after Elain refused other weapons. Elain is hesitant and only agrees to take it once Feyre chimes in that she will not have to use it. Juxtapose this with Elain immediately giving it back after the battle is over, not saying a word, and instead falling into conversation with Lucien. Lucien, who is canonically the only character to credit her for assisting with ending the King of Hybern.

— 🌨️ ACOFAS: This is the buffer book that was meant to do two things: Establish Nessian as the next couple for the following book, and establish a clear love triangle between Azriel/Elain/Lucien. Elriels use this book to drive the idea of an Elriel endgame. While this book has scenes between Elain and Azriel, there is unfortunately no foreshadowing present enough to support that claim. This novella emphasizes, from a conversation between Rhys and Feyre, that Azriel may be inclined towards Elain due to her having traits that may remind him of his mother (Freud). We also have Solstice where Lucien brings Elain a gift—a gift that fully reflects her interests—Elain brings Azriel a gift, but Azriel does not bring Elain a gift. Azriel even questioning beforehand if he has to get the sisters a gift at all. Elain’s gift being superficial and more of a joke than anything truly meaningful to them as a relationship.

— 🗡️ ACOSF: The book that ended Elriel. We have this book set up as PRE-BONUS CHAPTER | BONUS CHAPTER | POST BONUS CHAPTER. In the pre-bonus chapter, we have a few scenes between Elain and Azriel that is a glance, or a very small interaction. The infamous scene that Elriels like to use to “prove” that his shadows actually like Elain is the scene where Cassian says that Nesta upset Elain and his shadows seemed poised to strike. His shadows reacted to his anger, not to Elain. Next, the Solstice scene where Azriel refused to be within the room due to the mating bond between Elain and Lucien and Nesta seeing that he was interested in Elain—which is never brought up again, however we do get a scene post bonus chapter of Nesta encouraging Gwyn and Azriel by calling him the “new ribbon.”

The bonus chapter ended Elriel officially as endgame. The chapter is told from Azriel’s POV and documents his lustful thoughts of Elain and how he wants a mate, hurt and confused why his brothers had two of the Archeron sisters and the third was given away to another male. Rhysand even asking Azriel what his plans are after seducing Elain and Azriel having none “past the fantasies he pleasures himself to.” This is also a chapter where Elriels like to claim that Elriel is a forbidden romance. ACOWAR Rhys clearly objects to this being the case. (I have a video on my Tik Tok going over this @oristian) The bonus chapter then moves to Azriel finding Gwyn, his shadows not warning him of her presence at the HoW. His shadows are curious about her and dance with her breath. Azriel then finds out that Elain rejected his necklace—the only Solstice gift that he has gotten her, and one he expressed as “nothing extraordinary”—and the next morning finds him re-gifting such to Gwyn. Azriel can picture her eyes lighting up at the gift and he smiles—this is also where mate language is used to describe the spark in his chest at the thought of her and the glow of the thought. “A thing of secret, lovely beauty.” A line that was used twice—one to describe the necklace, and another time to describe the thought of Gwyn.

Post bonus chapter has zero interactions between Elain and Azriel. The interactions between Azriel and Gwyn are charged and witty. Energetic. This is also where we see Azriel’s siphons glowing darker at the thought of the Valkyries in the Great Rite—the first instance that this has happened.

Next, we go into the last two remaining plot arcs: Koschei and Dusk Court. Both ACOSF and HOFAS have set Nesta up as the driver for the Dusk Court arc, with Azriel as the character to follow. With SJM’s Bloomsbury contract slating her to have two more main books with dual POV romantic interests, the Dusk Court arc book would only make sense having Gwyn and Azriel as the FMC and MMC of that arc. The Koschei arc has been carefully crafted for Elain and Lucien to be the FMC and MMC of that book, with both of them being set up for this since ACOWAR. Elain with her visions of Vassa, the lake, and Koschei’s black box, and Lucien being tied to Papa Archeron and Vassa and the mortals. (I have a video on my Tik Tok that goes more in depth with this @oristian)

— SUMMARY: Elain and Azriel do not have multiple books of foreshadowing, a Gwynriel and Elucien endgame is not fanservice, and the remaining two plot arcs do not support an Elriel endgame. If you have any problems with that, take it up with SJM.

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whileyoureinschoolidothisallday · 6 months ago

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Fixing MHA's Ending So It Follows Through With Its Core Themes (And It Basically Fixes Itself)

I don't like retconning at the best of times, but turning what started as essentially a Hope focused narrative into a "realistic" tragedy at the very last second is some wild work.

So I'm gonna do what I do best as a fic writer and fix it!!!!!

The Summary

So, I'm pretty sure all of us were on mostly the same page up until the very last panels of the Shigaraki fight (Having AFO being just "born evil" was probably the start of things not being great, but I'm willing to let that slide because it doesn't really effect the overall function of the story that much). Once that and the epilogue started is where I mostly saw people being like ????????? to a lot of choices, so I'm going to focus on those two sections only.

We're gonna be rewriting:

-The deaths of the Villains + Kurogiri (obvs)

-The overall post-War actions and reactions

-The continued existence of the Commission and the Hero Rankings

-Hawk's fate

-Spinner's fate

-A liiiiitle tweak to Chisaki's fate

-Slight tweaks to the Todorokis

-and finally What to DO with the Villains + Kurogiri now that they're alive

And we'll be starting with...

Toga

Now for a battle that was so beautiful, this really did end up completely falling apart.

I'm not gonna justify every single Villain Rescue I do, but Toga's really comes down to one simple reason for me:

Her bullies literally wanted her to die as atonement.

You don't...typically make your character's fate agree with their bullies or abusers (otherwise???? why are you explicitly portraying them as bullies and abusers to the audience if you want us to ultimately agree with them?????)

Throughout most of the story prior to this, Hori made it a staple in the show that dying for the cause, hurting yourself for the cause, martyring yourself or otherwise telling someone to kill themselves for the cause is a vile thing to do. So, it makes ZERO sense why he would suddenly retcon this at such a critical moment, especially since he already set the stage for it to be wrong in the first place.

(also does anyone also think it was weird/creepy that Hori LITERALLY has her do this with Twice and she very explicitly says "Don't be stupid I don't have to give all of my blood away"? No? Just me?)

Everything happens the same, she still thinks she's sacrificing herself, "If only, if only", blah blah blah

AND THEN...

Hawks

This is such low-hanging fruit plot-wise it actually feels offensive that it went nowhere

Nothing happens with Hawks. We all say it, fans and non-fans alike. He is wasted potential incarnate. His story is a circle and it so easily did not have to be that way because of one simple writing decision:

Hawks and Toga share a blood type.

Up until now, it really did seem like Hawks learned nothing from Jin's death. The first thing he says when he sees the clones is, "We have to kill them now!" But then, picture him still battered and broken from his fight with AFO, wingless, but there is still SOMETHING he can do to save someone's life.

And he puts the needle in his arm instead, and before she can question it, he tells her Jin would want her to live. He's not gonna make the same mistake twice.

(I also think it'd be nice if he said something like how lucky she is, to really go full circle with the Jin story, but I'm not trying dialogue here lol)

And that leads us to...

Shigaraki (and Kurogiri!)

This is a double feature because with the way I'm doing it, I can't save one without the other.

So, something that happens during this and is super anti-climactic and seemingly pointless is Midoriya losing his hands. He gets em back in like 2 seconds, because Eri gives him a surprise rewind almost immediately after. The actual point of it was just to show the brand new rule that physical damage that happens in the vestige world also happens in the real world, so that killing Shigaraki a few chapters later would still make sense.

We're gonna get rid of that rule entirely and just say that Midoriya does not lose his actual arms in the fight, and psychological damage in a ghost world does not reflect physically in reality (or idk. If you DO want that to happen, then just say the embers of the vestiges protected him one last time or something).

And because he doesn't lose his arms, Eri still has a surprise rewind to use.

But before we get to that, we actually have to save Shigaraki. So, here's the super complicated rescue rewrite I came up with. Ready?

Kicking AFO out of his brain and giving him back full control over his body simply does not kill him.

That's it!!!! That's really all that needed to happen!! It was a very conscious choice to make that kill him! It's actually more work and details to kill Shigaraki than it is to save him!! Hori already went out of his way to say that Nana's vestige protected him so that he wasn't completely swallowed by AFO, just so he could say goodbye before fading away anyway. What if, considering the fact that hatred of Nana is what damned him, love FROM Nana actually just plain ol saves him? Full stop? We come full circle. It would make it a fantastic mirror to the Todoroki fight and solidify the theme that love from your/a family, even a broken one, will save you!!

And then further in the background, Bakugou doesn't randomly kill (?????? Even after reading it again I'm still really confused about how Kurogiri dies. I think this is what happens?????) Kurogiri, and instead starts to lose control like they feared. But then, refusing to give up on him, Aizawa hits him with the now-available Rewind Juice and it finally, finally stabilizes his mind for good.

The day is saved.

And that just leaves...

Touya

Unfortunately my stupid husband can't stop trying to kill himself for 2 seconds despite my best efforts to convince him otherwise, so there's really nothing I can do about the extent of his injuries

However, there's LOTS I can do about the way we're treating said injuries! =D

First of all, because Touya is my favorite, I do wanna allow myself the space to briefly rant about how his entire situation was handled because brother. first of all. It's so incredibly obvious that he was supposed to die on the battlefield with his comrades. That man had no fuckin eyeballs by the end of that fight, bffr. And then it was like Hori remembered the thing about the noodles and was like 'oh shit I better at least wrap that up lol' so he brought him back--eyeballs and TEARDUCTS magically intact btw so naturally the audience with reading comprehension was like 'oh he's healing somehow I guess'--just to get that specific moment on the books (and maybe just to draw Touya in his Batman Who Laughs era because I mean he does look pretty sick in the tank) and then turned around and killed him again. With no explanation what the random functioning tearducts and magical regrowth of eyeballs was about.

Like...my guy, you ain't gotta do all that. Again, it's so much harder and more complicated to kill him than it is to keep him alive. Not to mention he was killed OFF-SCREEN. WE DON'T EVEN GET TO SEE ANY--IF ANY--CONVERSATIONS HE HAS WITH SHOUTO OR HIS FAMILY, WHICH WAS THE WHOLE POINT OF NOT KILLING HIM ON THE BATTLEFIELD. INSTEAD OF THE SEXY SHIRTLESS SERVING-FACE-AT-A-FUNERAL IMAGE OF TOUYA WE COULD'VE SEEN A FLASHBACK OF THEM TALKING AND HIM SMILING AND BEING HAPPY WITH THEM FOR WHATEVER TIME THEY HAD AND THAT STILL WOULD'VE BEEN MORE SATISFYING. Y'KNOW. BECAUSE THAT WAS THE WHOLE FUCKING POINT OF THE TODOROKI PLOTLINE?????????????VSSSBBNM,.;;PUSAAXXGHIIRWDFGG

But anyway.

Fixing Touya's death is really simple. We can do two things, actually.

Work with the deus-ex Ice Quirk a little bit, make the Phoenix Theory canon. Ice heals him, the tank is a giant fridge. Lo and behold, it would explain why he magically healed eyeballs and tearducts. It's an incredibly slow process, but eventually he'd heal enough to be out of the tank and in a normal hospital setting for the rest of his recovery. It also gives him a goal to pursue for the future, I.E learning how to control the new side of his powers and mayybeeee getting interested in studying Quirk Biology in the process 👀

He simply!!!!!! Doesn't die!!!!!!!!! Out of ALLLLLLL the MHA characters, I would 100% believe you if you told me that Touya Todoroki nevertheless persisted. That's like...his entire character. You don't even need to give me a reason. His entire character up until now has been 'the one that's somehow still alive' to the point that the fucking Dr. Eggman lookin ass mad scientist that brought him back to life in the first place (in WORSE condition) was like 'yeah no idea how he's still here that's scary'. I'm sorry, the entire fucking show I've had to see A. An old man without a face with a back alley ventilator system shoved directly into his stoma that's somehow fine and talking perfectly, and B. Another old man missing his ENTIRE digestive tract for years and is still up and walking around somehow with no G-tube or colostomy bag to be seen, so I think by the power of God and Anime, Touya could probably survive his injuries and it would be within the realm of believability for the show. In fact, it's LESS believable that he stayed alive through all that by spite alone and then when he finally gets offered love and acceptance, that determination and tenacity to stay alive suddenly goes out the window. If anything, it should've made him MORE determined to live.

Sorry I got carried away with that one. But there. Everyone is saved and the core themes are intact.

Now we just have...

The Overall Actions and Reactions Post-War

Gonna sum this up really quickly:

-The cameras never turned off. They're built for Quirk resistance because they're a fucking newscast in a Hero society if their technology broke every time there were heavy Quirk exchanges there would never be any fucking news. Making them conveniently lose footage so none of the civs can see the Villains humanity is just rubbing salt in the wound and serves no narrative purpose in line with pre-established themes. Everyone saw what was recorded, and it helped the Villains' cases for rehabilitation.

-We do not censor out this battle in future history books. Everyone is very familiar with the final fight and the events and circumstances leading up to it. It is not erased from public memory as soon as possible. In fact, it's frequently studied and referenced when making new policies to avoid making the same mistakes. Hori. Wtf.

-We do not reinstate the Hero Rankings in any way shape or form, and Shouto is the biggest voice in dismantling this system. Voila, this is now actually the story of how they all became the greatest Heroes, because they aren't ranked. They're all literally the greatest Heroes, and so will everyone after them.

-This IS actually portrayed in the epilogue, but yes, let's be LESS reliant on Heroes and police and MORE invested in the community!!!!!!! Even more so than what's portrayed!!!!! Take another bit from Spider-Man: Anyone can wear the mask!!!!!! Let's make a world where Heroes have too much time on their hands and not just make more of them, right????????? Remember that????????

-WE DO NOT REINSTATE THE COMMISSION. WE GOT RID OF THEM CORRUPT HOES FOR A REASON!!!!!! NO A CHANGE OF THE GUARD IS NOT ENOUGH TO FIX IT WE'RE NOT 7YRS OLD!!!!! HORI. WTF. The only thing I want them to be in charge of is licensing Heroes. I want these fuckers to be the DMV of the Hero world and that's IT!!!!!!!

Which brings us to...

Hawks' Fate

I don't even fuck with this man like that, but he did not deserve to become CEO of the organization that groomed and abused him since he was a child when all he wanted to do was chase tail and fuck off to a beach somewhere. Considering the fact that he also, like, killed people he shouldn't have, let him retire like Endeavor, please. We're done giving the old guard power and privilege, especially when they explicitly did not and do not want it (and when they did have it, they misused it). The only thing I want this man involved with is Toga's recovery alongside Uraraka. Specifically, I want him paying for it and anything else she might need. Fuck it, you know what, make HIM Endeavor's personal aide instead of Rei!!!! He gets to be a little simp and Endeavor gets a replacement son to fill Natsu's spot. Everyone wins.

(He does deserve that hairline tho. I ain't fixin that.)

So that leaves...

Spinner's Fate

I'm not changing much here, besides the fact that now Shiggy is alive and I think they should be ✨Roommates✨ eventually (and obviously he's gonna be much less riddled with survivor's guilt). I still think he should write that book, but I also think that with his multiple Quirks, he should team up with scientists to understand how Quirks work in the body (and maybe get some of them removed from his).

And next...

Chisaki's Fate

I just think this guy needs to be in the same place as the other Villains, at least for a fraction of the time. Why is he just...out. He was also in that daycare and could definitely use some help before we just let him loose in the streets because he said sorry (Can the League just say sorry then??????????).

I do think afterwards he should get involved with something chemistry related tho, cause those bullets of his came in clutch.

And on that note...

The Todorokis' Fates

And by Todorokis I mean two of them, specifically Rei lol

Yeah, she's not gonna be Endeavor's nurse for the rest of her life lol. That man has more money than God, he can hire an aide like everybody else. In fact, they're not even living together. Do you remember how earlier in the series, he gave them a new house? So they could live away from him and he would be in the old house by himself? I liked that plan. Let's go back to that plan. I'm not gonna go as far as to make them divorce, if they're together they're together, but I think separation is a necessary must at this point because if they MUST stay together, they should at least try dating for once???????? Girl was actually bought like maybe they figure out if they even still like each other at all, or ever did.

(Also, I have to laugh as a motorized wheelchair user that Hori drew her pushing Endeavor all happy and blissfully. Motorized wheelchairs are not meant to be pushed like that lol. They have push features for emergencies and small around-the-house distances of course, but uh, mine's 350 pounds without me in it. It's not usually anyone's first choice.)

But there is one more Todoroki I have a lot to talk about, so that finally brings us to...

What Do We Do With The Villains + Kurogiri Now That They're Alive???????????

We take everything from comic books except what would actually makes sense with the story lol

Surprise!!!!!! We're doing Arkham!!!!!! This is another low-hanging fruit thing that I'm almost a little offended that it wasn't implemented. Obviously Arkham has its problems in the Batman canon that we're gonna try to avoid, but I honestly think Batman villains and the core MHA Villains are pretty similar in their execution in that they are primarily mentally ill victims of society who have done very terrible things, but the audience (and Batman himself) is actively rooting for them to get better over just rotting in jail or being killed. Two-Faced has killed sooooo many people and has relapsed a ton, but I ultimately still want to see him get better because he was Batman's best friend once and a good man, and what happened to him was a tragedy. I think all the Villains deserve a space where they can humanely heal from their issues and gain support, while also being safely separated from society while they're still dangerous to themselves and others.

Oh, but Batman and his endless money bought Arkham. Who do we know who has access to trust fund money, an investment in the mentally ill, and the bonus of a medical background that could fund such a thing?

Ladies and Gentlemen, please put your hands together for...

Natsuo Todoroki!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My mans graduates from college and immediately uses his money as a doctor and his inheritance to open up Rindou Sanctuary, in honor of his mother Rei and named after her favorite flower (I don't think he'd want to give Enji the satisfaction of his last name attached to his greatest achievement). He's head doctor on site and the board, and visits Touya every shift once he's healed enough to be transferred to the facility. He is very invested in his brother's treatment and refuses to lose him again--at least not until they're proper old men.

It is publicly funded by donors and taxes alike, and Enji, naturally, is always the highest donor. Call it reparations.

And there you have it! That's how to fix the epilogue. It took longer to type than think about. I could care less about canon shipping, so y'all can keep that (or not). I'm just here to fix the structural problems that have no reason to be here at this point. As I said, once I redrew lines Hori already set up and just abandoned, it pretty much fixed itself.

Hope you enjoyed it and I hope it eases the grief a little!!!!! They're alive look I fixed it!!!!!! <3

(also feel free to use anything I said in here in your own fix-it fics!!!! Just tag me so I can read them 👀)

#x-men but anime #I...don't wanna tag this with the main tag LMFAO #oh how about this I've seen this one #bnha critical #dabi #touya todoroki #shigaraki tomura #tenko shimura #toga himiko #league of villains #sorry if there's typos I did not realize it was 6am good lord

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lala056 · 4 months ago

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Exhausting

I have no respect for billford shippers that look down on stancest shippers.

Oh what, you’d have me believe a genetic tie to a partner is somehow worse than being with someone that stabs through your hands, forces you to swallow live spiders, and also SA’s you by having yourself forcibly strip down in public and swing your clothes over your head like a helicopter? (sorry but anyone that forcibly removes your clothes and exposes your body, even if you’re a guy/lacking breasts and it’s just your chest, is committing SA against you. They’re exposing your body against your will plain and simple. Try to write that off how you like but that’s the facts)

The logic behind this baffles me honestly.

There’s a reason Alex titled that kissing drawing as "the worst drawing in the world" and then linked to an amazon BIBLE page (yeah I know that was part of a joke well guess what he frequently uses the bible joke for shipping in general so yeah).

Because he knows it’s BAD, TOXIC, PROBLEMATIC AS YOU GUYS LIKE TO LABEL THINGS. What I see people incorrectly accuse PROSHIPPERS to REPRESENT rather than the actual representation of the LIVE AND LET LIVE CREDO OF SHIPPING.

Ever stop to consider that maybe Alex didn’t do stancest or art involving Wendy/Dipper because he simply a) didn’t like those ships, which is valid since everyone has their own tastes, and he did base some of these characters on his own family so it’s close to home for him, or b) knows how toxic and chronically online a lot of haters are? That he wanted to avoid drama for this stream that he’s trying to milk every cent out of for CHARITY? (It's ridiculous how many times he felt obligated to say "REMEMBER IT'S FOR CHARITY" when shipping came up just to try and prevent any meltdowns from uptight fans and viewers. And even then he still didn't do some because he knew the fact of it being for charity still wouldn't fly for some- because a lot of people would rather watch REAL PEOPLE SUFFER to preserve their fictional sensitivities)

Not to mention he still works with Disney (chibiverse hello), any backlash (the form of false pedo accusations or incest apologist accusations being what happens to be thrown around all willy nilly nowadays over fictional bullshit) could get him blocked not only from working with the company ever again, but lose any input he might have over his beloved passion project and baby Gravity Falls itself?

This is a man who has said COUNTLESSLY that he doesn’t care about ships, has even encouraged people to "be weirder" and made omelet hypotheticals for how much HE DOESN’T CARE BECAUSE FICTIONAL SHIPS DON’T MATTER.

Alex Hirsch is a KING.

And it’s sad to see that so many of his loyal subjets are so bigoted and blind to ignore his own feelings in order to justify their own, or to somehow perform the mental gymnastics in order to absolve themselves of "thought crimes" so that they can feel like they aren’t bad people under the imposition of conservative purity culture.

The terms "cest" and "age" are trigger words now. If those show up in any form, pitchforks come out and roofs get burned. Companies overreact and overcompensate. He said Disney people were watching, so of course he’s gonna say and act in what is deemed an appropriate manner because even companies apparently prefer abusive relationships to ones that have a blood tie even if blood ties are wholesomely depicted.

The age old double standards.

And don’t get me started on bringing up Dipper Goes To Taco Bell. Alex and cast know of that story, they’ve made references to it in a video game and such, immortalized it. They engage with all corners of their fandom, also shown by Jason’s "saving the town" reference on stream.

Another thing, anyone notice how they laughed off the Dipper and Wendy suggestion Jason made, rather than exploded? BECAUSE THEY DON'T CARE IT'S NOT THAT SERIOUS - and most likely turned them down because they know there's more drama about characters being aged up and crap so it wouldn't have mattered if they're adults now, there are people who will always see them as "kids".

Point is - If there was such a strong hate on Alex’s part about the darker side of fiction or taboos he’d do all in his power to make sure they were never mentioned again and be active against them.

He’s a kind, caring man that obviously likes to just get along with people, but he does put his foot down when he feels something is awful. He’s made political posts about presidents he feels are corrupt and spoken out against social injustice. You honestly think he wouldn’t speak out about those taboo ships in frank language if he thought that they shouldn’t exist and that the people who create for them are awful?

Newsflash, he would. Yes, he’d isolate a sadly small part of his fanbase, but he’s shown time and again he doesn’t care about being liked. He cares about what’s right.

And abusing others over which made up character kisses who, isn’t.

If you’re someone that mislabels proshippers too, to mean "problematic shippers", then as a billford shipper you’re one by definition. And yes, I'm including you AU billford shippers too because there is always some degree of toxicity.

Knock the hate and abuse off. People that go off about why their ship is justified and another isn't are the reason people leave fandoms and leave amazing works often unfinished, even Gen writers and artists.

#gravity falls #billford #stancest #alex hirsch #shipping #really tired of all ya'll

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deusvervewrites · 11 months ago

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I’ve been working my way through your stories and your lore posts. I’m also finally catching up to the end of the MHA manga. My thoughts on the endings of various character arcs is something you might vibe with. Sometimes, mercy to the guilty becomes cruelty to the innocent. It’s great writing when the villains are people you can sympathize with, but it’s weird that the heroes are this focused on saving the villains that are causing so much death and destruction. Your thoughts?

The entire point of My Hero Academia is saving people.

From the first page of the first chapter until now that has never changed.

I've seen people criticizing Midoriya for not going out onto the battlefield to personally and deliberately murder Shgiaraki and I wonder if they're the same people who think Aang should have killed Ozai.

The idea of mercy to the guilty leads to cruelty to the innocent is what caused the entire plot. Had the people at the Dawn of Quirks not immediately started murdering children for being born "wrong", All For One wouldn't have had to cope by doubling down on their propaganda to justify his own existence to himself. But those people were "guilty" of being born wrong, and if they showed mercy to them, then what? What if those people turned on them? No, no. Better to not take that chance.

If Kotaro had forgiven his mother, Shigaraki would never have happened.

If the Togas had accepted their daughter, Himiko would never have become a murderer.

Spinner never left the house because he was seen as "guilty" of the sin of being a mutant. People were massacred for that sin.

Civilians nearly murdered Ippan Josei, a civilian herself, because they believed that mercy to the guilty is cruelty to themselves.

The greatest flaw of the Hero System is that it dehumanized everyone under it. The Heroes were flawless paragons who could never live up to their own hype and swiftly abandoned for failing. The Villains were deemed to be inherently bad and punished for it.

Endeavor was allowed to abuse his wife and all four children and faced no repercussions. Because he's a Hero and Heroes are good. Touya wasn't born correctly enough and was punished over a one-sided feud a generation before him.

Nobody was seen as human. That's literally the point of the final battle. Midoriya, Uraraka, Todoroki, they all had to recognize the humanity of the people they were fighting and remind them of it.

The thesis of My Hero Academia, of every single arc of My Hero Academia, is that Heroes are not "good" and Villains are not "evil." That failing to recognize that fact leads to dark places, like a government that doesn't bat an eye at murdering its own citizens to maintain power. Laws that strip you of your own bodily autonomy.

During his battle against All For One at Kamino, All Might states the the reason Heroes never lose is because they have people to save. The chapter titled Bakugou Katsuki: Rising, his origin chapter, is about 300 chapters into the manga and the first time he saves someone.

All For One and the HPSC are both cruel relics of the past doing their best to manipulate their way to power, viewing everyone in their way as disposable pawns. They're the same. You could even make an argument that the laws against Quirk use means the HPSC is literally giving and taking away Quirks via licenses. And they both completely crumble in large part because of their refusal to see people when it is so much easier to see the enemy.

My Hero Academia is a story about extending your hand to those in need.

#asks #meta

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scioscribe · 5 months ago

Text

The Great American Memoir

post-canon, Hawkeye & BJ

“I was walking past the bookstore, and I saw it in the window. I had to make the owner open up early so I could touch it and be sure it was real. I had to double-check the copyright page.”

BJ rubbed his eyes. “Hawk, it’s six AM here, and Erin had a sleepover last night. She and her friends decided to teach themselves how to play the piano with, of course, the corollary that practice would make perfect even at two in the morning. I’m tired, you woke me up, you woke Peg up, and I have no idea what you’re talking about. Call back later.”

“I shouldn’t have added to his royalties, but I couldn’t resist. To Serve Was Heaven: A Surgeon’s Story of Life at the Front Lines: A Memoir. Two colons. You know what that means it’s twice as full of.”

“Someone wrote a memoir.”

“Someone! Someone! Frank Burns, Beej, Ferret Face himself.”

Three girls banging away at “Chopsticks” in the small hours of the morning took an abrupt backseat in terms of importance. “Frank wrote a memoir? You’re sure?”

“I’m telling you, I’m holding it right here in my hands.”

“Okay. You were right to wake me up.”

Hawkeye crowed with laughter, and it was the kind of delight that BJ felt younger just listening to. He smiled, and there was a beat of silence where he felt like Hawkeye knew that—sometimes the world just lined up that way, at least for them, and it didn’t matter how many miles were between them.

“You’ll have to read it to me,” BJ said. “It’s bad enough that you put money in Frank’s pocket, I’m not giving him mine.”

“You think you could stop me from reading it to you? You’re destined to my dulcet tones in nightly phone calls until we get through all three hundred sixty-eight pages. Not counting footnotes.”

“Pictures?”

“No, no, nothing but maps.”

“Well, that makes sense.”

“Right. Everyone knows Frank can’t be photographed.”

“Like Dracula,” BJ agreed. “You know, never mind reading it to me. Bring it here. Maybe we could get a couple people together. Can you find someone to look after your practice for a week or two?”

“For this kind of reunion? I’ll bribe every doctor on the Eastern Seaboard. Well, except Charles. I’ll have to bring him with me.”

“You sure he’ll come? For a 4077 book club that didn’t exist until this morning? He never even met Frank.”

“Oh, he’ll come,” Hawkeye said.

“You know what that is, don’t you,” BJ said. “The confidence of an only child, someone who’s always been used to wrapping other people around their little finger.”

“That’s a horrible way to think about it. I don’t have the confidence of an only child, I have the confidence of a man with long eyelashes. I bat them and I get what I want because I’m so adorable.”

“A little ineffective over the phone.”

“Then I’ll see him in person! I’m telling you, he’ll say yes. And if he doesn’t, I’ll bring him in the trunk of my car.”

“You’re not flying?”

“Well, not if I have to kidnap Charles. He wouldn’t fit in my carry-on. Besides, we can’t do this without Margaret, and if I drive, I can pick her up on the way and save her the cost of a plane ticket.”

“And by that point, if they’re looking for whoever took Charles, they won’t be looking for a man and a woman. You’ll get through all the roadblocks. What about Trapper? We should at least get the whole Swamp complement—Frank by proxy—along with Margaret. Can’t really throw together a full reunion at such short notice, but at least with a smaller one I can offer up some spare bedrooms.”

“I’ll talk to Trapper.”

“You’ll bat your eyelashes.” BJ paused. He was running one finger along the telephone cord, in and out of the loops. “It’ll be good to see you.”

“Yeah.” Hawkeye’s voice was a little rougher now. “You too. Give my love to Peg and Erin, but hold a little of it back for yourself, okay?”

“I think I can do that.”

He went back to bed after that, spooning up against Peg’s back. She shifted a little, enough so she wouldn’t be talking into the pillow, and said, “Is everything all right with Hawkeye?”

“Fine. He sends his love. I’m sorry the phone woke you.” He stroked her shoulder. “What would you think about us hosting, say, Hawk and Margaret and Charles and Trapper? On the grounds that Frank wrote a book, so it’s a very special occasion.”

Peg rolled over. BJ stole Hawkeye’s tactic and batted his eyelashes at her.

“Frank Burns wrote a book,” she said.

“A memoir of his wartime experience.”

“Are you in it?”

“We can only hope.”

“My God,” Peg said. “I’ll make up the spare rooms.”

#mash #mash 4077 #ficlet #m*a*s*h

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n3ssier · 1 month ago

Note

May i request Levi with a civilian reader on a first date ❤️

why of course ! sorry it took a small while to write this, i was brainstorming but then got caught up with extra shifts at work.

levi x reader - first date (set after the events of season 4)

The indistinct chatter of nearby tables would be loud in any other circumstance, but right now all you could hear was the strong silence between you and the raven haired man sitting across from you. You look up from the menu laid open in front of you to see him inspecting his, flipping through the pages intently with a blank expression on his face that you truly wish you could read. Your eyes shift from him to your surroundings, he'd picked a pretty elegant restaurant. The wide range of dishes on the menu, the candle lit at your table, and the well dressed people around you, including him, told you that this was a high-end place. Somewhere you'd never be able to afford on your own as the fairly average life you live could not uphold such a lifestyle, even for just one night.

You had already decided what you wanted to order 5 minutes ago, but had continued to look through the menu as if you were still deciding due to the sheer nervousness to start conversation. You notice Levi shutting his menu and looking up at you, and that is the sign needed for you to shut yours too and make eye contact with him.

"So, uh, how are you?" you manage to say, shifting uncomfortably in the cushioned seat. "Not bad, yourself?" he then responds with, leaning back in his chair and running his right hand through his hair. Your attention is brought to his hand as he does so, and you notice his index and middle finger missing with a scar in place of them down the top of his hand. "yeah I'm doing pretty good, this is a pretty nice restaurant you picked huh?" this was your attempt to make the conversation go somewhere. His eye scans the room as you speak, and he gives a small nod. "Of course. I don't often go out to eat at all, but I would much rather have the piece of mind that we are at a place which is clean and of high value, rather than one of those filthy bars I see other men take women into, just to sit her aside while they drink and make a damn fool of themselves."

As he speaks you notice the white of his right eye, the combination of this, the scars running down his face which disturb his smooth complexion, and the two missing fingers on his right hand strikes curiosity within you that you wish you could detain. "I understand what you mean, I've seen it myself all too much. Uhm, do you mind if I ask what happened to your hand and eye?" Fear and regret begin to take over as you realise this might come off as rude or nosey, but you want to know his story, and what could have possibly put him in the state he's in now.

Levi looks at you with his eyebrows ever so slightly raised and the same blank expression he's worn the whole evening so far, before telling you, "I was caught in an explosion from a thunderspear, but, it's part of a much bigger story that perhaps I should save for another occasion." You didn't know what you expected, but this was still a shock, and guilt began to set in for even asking in the first place. You utter a small "Oh, I'm sorry" before looking down at the table to take a breath and curse yourself mentally before returning your gaze to the handsome man currently giving you his attention. "Don't be. you deserve to know what you're getting yourself into here, but my war is over and I'm done with the fighting." As he speaks you see a hint of relief on his face as he looks over at the tall candle burning at your table. You chime back with "I'm glad, my life's always been a quiet one, which I guess might be for the best even if I find it boring at times."

You send a soft smile his way before as he then follows up with "That's what I'm now looking for, and I believe it's something I could enjoy with you," oh boy, this date might actually go pretty well after all

requests are open btw guys :3

#attack on titan #aot #levi aot #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #captain levi #anime

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vickyvicarious · 8 months ago

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Honestly, I think it could be very impactful if Van Helsing did die in the graveyard tonight. It'd continue the trend of people taking any direct stand against Dracula being killed almost casually in return. Up the stakes even more. Maybe he could be found the next morning on a grave with his neck broken, a look of fear or defiance on his face - a reminder of Mr. Swales's death.

Jack would get the note and then find him or hear about him being found in the graveyard. The suitors would arrive thanks to the note the Professor sent them and they'd link up with him. I imagine they would go together anyway, though more expecting to support a Jack who is wondering if it can be real after all or if it was just madness before he was murdered somehow. They would all learn just how true it is together, would have to save each other and then follow the directions left to them. Or possibly seek out the Harkers first and then they might be involved in the Bloofer Lady staking. That would be a good moment of horror too, Mina seeing Lucy like this...

When the groups united they'd have to do research of their own, or go through the documents left behind by Van Helsing. Books of fairy tales and superstitions, pages with scattered notes, comparing them to the diaries...

Thematically, it would fit pretty well with all the other deaths around this part of the book. The parents are all dead and gone. And while Van Helsing is not a parent to anyone here, he was a mentor and guide to Jack in particular. He would join in with the others who now are orphaned/have to figure things out themselves. Jonathan has inherited the responsibilities of a law firm, Arthur has inherited the title and all that goes with it, Jack would inherit Van Helsing's final task.

There would be more collaboration in general (rather than all mostly following) and more leadership emerging from Mina, probably. None of the suitors are going to be as ready to take the lead in this situation, at least not as totally as Van Helsing. Of course, issues with her being left behind probably aren't going to just totally go away. But I imagine less so, or in a different way. Along the way I think there could be more moments for Arthur or Quincey to shine as well, stepping in at different points where originally Van Helsing took the floor.

The end of the story, where everyone splits up three ways, would have to be changed somehow, of course. Either someone has to go alone, or they have to ignore one route entirely. But I think that might be the biggest actual plot change you'd find completely necessary. Other than what happens to Mina, of course. I do think Dracula would still go after Mina somehow, even if she went with them to examine his boxes. But maybe they wouldn't get to the point of doing so as quickly until they collated all their info. Maybe things happen slower, maybe what happened the final night (Jonathan hypnotized into sleep right next to him) would happen more often. Oh, I guess the other change might be no one to hypnotize Mina while spying, unless this is some skill Quincey happens to have or whatever. But then, Jack seems familiar at least with the theory, so maybe he could make an attempt at it.

I mean, there's no reason you would have to stick that closely to the original story. But for the most part I think you could if you wanted, and it would just be a different tone that would still be really powerful. And it would be kind of interesting to have Van Helsing's role be limited to failing to save Lucy throughout. Hiding information right up until he tries to share it, after which he dies. That phrasing makes it sound really brutal, but... I mean it would kind of be brutal, but his legacy would be bringing the two groups together, showing them the truth (or confirming it as the case may be) and entrusting them with the future.

#dracula daily #dracula daily spoilers #van helsing #not saying it would necessarily be better than the canon we have. would depend a lot on the execution #but at the very least it could be a really interesting fic or book jumping off from canon here #dracula failing to come back to lucy here is super characteristic of him and really shows how little he cares #but there's potential if he came. even if just to check in briefly

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puzzleglum · 4 months ago

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I posted the original version of this giant Lanyon and Hyde analysis essay (plus theories!) on the 30th of December last year. That was when this page was the latest. Since then, I’m happy to say that it still holds up well, so far! But since I never posted it properly on Tumblr itself, I thought I’d do so now. Especially since I’m planning to write more about Lanyon and Hyde very soon! That will be a bit of a follow-up to my thoughts in this. This version includes edited in comments to account for the NEW pages that came out since I first wrote this essay. So for anyone who’s read it before, you’ll find the new stuff I wrote between brackets! [Like so.] It ended up being about 750 words longer. Total wordcount is now around 3150. I had…a lot of thoughts. For future reference, the latest page, as of the time I posted this edited essay, was this one. Enjoy!! ——— I believe this conversation has the potential to be radically important to the story, the themes, and character arcs. Even lifesaving. Why? Because Hyde has already given up. He knows that saving Jekyll is impossible. It’d be like diving into a black hole and then trying to get out again. You just can’t do it. Hyde would get exactly as stuck in their mind as Jekyll currently is, if he tried to go after him now. But, he didn’t yet try to think of a way around that problem. It’s hard to think when you’re having a mental breakdown, though, so I don’t blame him. What Hyde needs is some help. A chance to calm down and think about any and all solutions he missed. Enter: Lanyon. One of the stubbornest people Jekyll and Hyde have ever known. And thank heck for that, because that stubbornness might be exactly what Hyde needs, right now. There is no way in hell Lanyon is just going to stand by and let Hyde give up. Just like how he couldn't just watch as Jekyll was sacrificing his health and sanity in the name of the Society. He even threatened to close the Society to try and save him!

What Jekyll has done, his mind-suicide attempt, is exactly the end point of what Lanyon was worried about. Because Jekyll did it to save the Society from being destroyed by his secret getting out. He’s placed himself on the altar, deliberately, to bleed out. One final sacrifice as their leader. But of course, on an emotional, visceral level, he really did it to make Hyde suffer.

Hyde’s the one who is now literally bleeding. He’s been abandoned, condemned, and feels like a worthless monster. This is the end for him, and he knows it. So. What will Lanyon do, now that he’s let himself into the office? If I were him…I’d get out the first aid supplies, because Hyde’s glass cuts aren’t going to clean themselves up. [EDIT: this prediction about the first aid turned out to be right! Hooray! But that still leaves the question of whether Lanyon will convince Hyde not to give up on the idea of getting Jekyll back…which requires a more emotional kind of help.]

But the question is, can Hyde allow himself to be helped? He’s prideful, and stubborn. Always has been. And just like Jekyll, he hates to feel emotionally vulnerable. That’s why Hyde’s first reaction when Lanyon opens the office again is to taunt him. Anything to get back even the smallest feeling of control. He refuses to drop the act and admit the obvious: he did make quite a mess of himself. But Lanyon sees through him easily. He, too, knows the feeling of wanting to seem in control. [EDIT: there’s also an element of fear as to why Hyde tries so, so hard to keep up the act. I’ve written more about that here. And, on the latest page, Hyde DID admit that he made a mess of himself! Gradually, Lanyon is managing to chip away at Hyde’s mask. If you ask me, it’s just a matter of time before he drops the act entirely.] But before I talk further about Lanyon and Hyde, I want to talk about Jekyll for a bit. I’ll circle back to those two, no worries. Jekyll never wanted to ask Lanyon for help, either. When Not-Lanyon suggested it, he shut it down immediately. Looking anguished at the very thought of Lanyon finding out about his secret.

It’s not that he didn’t need help. He knew he was struggling, that the conflict with Hyde was wearing him down. But, it’s the idea of letting others in that’s torture to him. The moment he’d let anyone in to help, they’d see how profoundly imperfect he is. They’d see him as a monster. He can’t stand the thought of being seen as anything less than “good.” So he thought he could fix it by himself, because he had to. It was always about shame. He couldn’t let Lanyon know how he had failed to “fix” himself with his experiment—the thoughts he shouldn’t have, the things he shouldn’t want. All so terribly improper. So evil. Asking for help would mean they’d see how truly “rotten on the inside” he is. And Jekyll would’ve rather died than let that happen.

And now they can see it. The secret is out. It’s over. This is the end for him. All his failures, his madness, on full display for everyone to see…it’s his worst nightmare come true. And the worst part is Lanyon seeing him like this. Jekyll has always admired Lanyon, always considered his opinion highly, always cared what he thought of Jekyll. He even used to think of Lanyon as exactly the kind of Perfect Gentleman that Jekyll so desperately wished to be. Until it became clear, during Hyde and Lanyon’s first talk, that Lanyon is simply human, not perfect after all. But I digress. Jekyll was very good at hiding his secrets, until the events of the story slowly took that away from him. Suffering in silence, until he couldn’t anymore. The involuntary transformations, the instability of his and Hyde’s form, was the final nail in the coffin for that secrecy. Lanyon finally got to see why Jekyll thought he was “rotten.” Because the rot has a name, and it’s Hyde. The embodiment of everything Jekyll hates about himself. Everything he could never show others. Everything he tried to separate himself from, in the pursuit of perfection. Everything he never wanted Lanyon to see in him. But, let me rewind a moment. What happened before the reveal? What did Lanyon do?

While Jekyll never asked Lanyon for his help, that doesn’t mean that Lanyon wasn’t trying to help him anyway. He’s been trying to help Jekyll this whole story. But he had no idea what the problem was. And you can’t truly help someone if they refuse to let you in. It hurts, when you want to help your loved ones, and they don’t trust you with knowing what ails them. It hurts, to reach out and be rejected. So Lanyon tried again, desperate to be let in. To help, no matter what it was.

Lanyon still doesn’t know what the problem is, but he can make a reasonable guess. After all, he’s no stranger to internalized homophobia. Or fear of commitment, or attachment. Not to mention that the kind of relationship they have will always carry risk with it. We can’t forget that it was criminalized to be gay in the Victorian period. That fear is perfectly understandable. Which is just one of the many reasons that Lanyon confessing his love for Henry carries such weight for them. He truly wants to be there for Jekyll. No matter what it takes. Even if it means being emotionally vulnerable, something he’s usually quite allergic to himself. It’s something he, Jekyll, and Hyde all have in common. All of that is to say, it’s such a shame what happens next, isn’t it?

Hyde refuses Lanyon’s attempts to reach out, just as Jekyll did. He tricked him so he could make his escape attempt. Once again, Hyde runs away. How ironic then, that Lanyon was just talking about how he understands the urge to run away! [EDIT: not only does Lanyon understand wanting to run away, he also understands putting on an act. Keeping up a certain reputation. Something Jekyll and Hyde are both concerned with. Lanyon’s persona of a cynical dandy who doesn’t care about anything, Jekyll’s persona of a perfect gentleman, Hyde’s persona of the evil spirit of London at night…it’s all a performance. It’s defense, and sometimes offense. It’s excuses. It’s coping strategies, and armor to hide behind. It’s a lot of things, for all three of them. Personas are tools, and we may adopt them for lots of different reasons.] Of course, it’s different from Hyde’s perspective. From Jekyll’s point of view, Hyde is the problem he so desperately tried to “fix” on his own. Obviously, Hyde doesn’t want Jekyll to succeed in his efforts to control or contain him, or get rid of him. What he ultimately wants, what has always motivated him, is to be free. And to that I must ask, free from what, exactly? I’ll get back to that question later. Let’s put a pin in that for now. [EDIT: this is one of those things I’ll talk about more in a follow-up post. No worries!] I’ve seen one read of this scene being that Hyde is jealous. That he wishes that love confession was for him, not Jekyll. Which could certainly be true! But I’d like to add a different read, or at least, to add something else to that read. Earlier, Hyde had been taunting Jekyll with the idea of Hyde stealing Lanyon away from him. Jekyll, naturally, got defensive. What could Lanyon possibly see in Hyde? To that Hyde replied, what could Lanyon see in Jekyll?

So another read I have is that Hyde finds a certain bitter irony in Lanyon’s love confession. Because Lanyon doesn’t even know who Henry really is, and he doesn’t know that Hyde is the Sweetheart side of Henry that he so jealously wanted for himself, fifteen years ago. So, from Hyde’s perspective, perhaps that love confession actually IS, or at least SHOULD be, aimed at himself. And Lanyon doesn’t know there’s such a distinction to be made in the first place. Isn’t that just so deliciously ironic? To say you love someone, without even really knowing them? Maybe Hyde thought that Lanyon got the wrong guy when he said that he loved Henry. (But, in another sense, he absolutely didn’t. Because Hyde is every bit Henry, too.) …But, that read only makes sense if you take Hyde’s taunting towards Jekyll seriously. Obviously, he said all that stuff about stealing Lanyon to upset Jekyll. But does he actually believe any of it? I think he wanted to. Tried to convince himself. Because it would prove he wasn't NOTHING. Remember, he had that whole identity crisis where he realized his Spirit of London persona is, and always was, a lie. But if he can be the Doe-Eyed Sweetheart instead, then he must still be worth something. Still the owner of some kind of identity. But now, with Jekyll gone, he might feel different; he's a worthless monster, and it's silly that Lanyon could ever think otherwise. After all, just because Lanyon wanted the Sweetheart…doesn't mean he actually wants the rest of Hyde, too. The destruction. The ruin. The pathetic, worthless wretch that he is. There is NO WAY Lanyon cares for THAT. Could ever love him when he's obviously NOT being the Doe-Eyed Sweetheart right now, and isn't capable of it in such a bad state, either. So Hyde clinging onto that label of Sweetheart was foolish of him, he might think. Maybe he believes he was delusional to think he was ever anything more than an evil monster. That he COULD be more.

(To be extra clear: I, myself, don’t believe any of the harsh judgments of Hyde in the previous two paragraphs. I just wrote it how I believe Hyde might be seeing it right now. His personal perspective. My own thoughts are very different!) Thus, the insincere taunting towards Lanyon. Because he knows he's no sweetheart, and Lanyon was a stupid lover boy for ever giving him that false hope. That hope of an IDENTITY. A place, or person, to belong to. But, moving on. I can totally see a moment, in the current confrontation between Lanyon and Hyde, where Hyde might be confused as hell if Lanyon doesn’t just…abandon him. Because he should, right? Jekyll is gone. It’s too late to rescue him, as Hyde already told Lanyon. What reason could Lanyon possibly have to stick around? To Hyde, it’s clear as day that he’s hopeless. Saving Jekyll, and thus saving Hyde as well, is a futile endeavor. So that’s my first theory: Lanyon will stick around, and try to help Hyde. Likely starting with cleaning up Hyde’s glass cuts. Hyde won’t get it, at first. Lanyon knows Hyde’s not Jekyll, right? He knows Jekyll is never coming back, right? Then, why, pray tell, won’t Lanyon just leave? Can’t he see that Hyde is evil, and doesn’t deserve any help? [EDIT: judging by how shocked and bewildered Hyde looks when Lanyon goes to patch up his injured hands, I think there is truth to how I envisioned Hyde’s thought process here. But it will be clearer as the scene goes on. Hyde asking whether the fact he caused those injuries to himself horrifies Lanyon also fits with Hyde’s very negative self-image and self-hatred. He’s expecting the answer to be yes, of course it horrifies and offends Lanyon’s sensibilities. Jekyll and Hyde share this fear that Lanyon would hate them if he knew the truth about them. But thankfully, Hyde is wrong. That’s clearly not what Lanyon is leading up to with that “But…” and as for me? I’m expecting a note of acceptance from Lanyon, and likely a re-affirmation of love. That’s what I predict, anyway.] And thus I circle back to my question at the top of this post: Can Hyde allow himself to be helped? Can he find it within himself to let Lanyon in? And to that I say: may I present some visual parallels? :)

“Now, it’s only a matter of time.” This was the start of Jekyll’s resignation to his own fate. There was no getting better. There was no saving him. Inevitably, his secret would get out to the wider public, and then the Society would fall. Everything they’d all worked so hard for, sacrificed for, lost in an instant. The only option left, he realized later, was to bury himself within his own mind, and let his secret die with him. Note that the door is closed. He’s alone, isolated, and left with no hope. Barely any light in his dark office. Now check this out:

It’s the same angle on the office. The same top-down view. This was right after Hyde threw Lanyon to the ground and tried to escape the Society. Both Jekyll and Hyde had refused Lanyon’s attempts to reach out, to help, and be let in. He’s utterly confused, powerless, lying on the floor. But look at the door. It’s halfway open. It’s letting light in, even if it’s not enough yet. The secret is so, so close to being revealed, and very soon after, it will be. Soon, Lanyon will know what Jekyll was dealing with, this whole time. And that brings us to the end of this lovely trifecta:

What a stunning reversal! Now, the one with the power in this scene is Lanyon, unlike before when Hyde was in power. Hyde’s the one who now lies powerless on the office floor. His taunts are completely ineffective. Note the way Lanyon looms over Hyde. Those beautifully piercing eyes of Lanyon, the eyes that Jekyll and Hyde always loved so much, are trained directly on Hyde. He has no intention of letting him out of his sight, for Hyde to run away again. This time is going to be different. The doors are now open all the way. Letting the light in. Because Hyde will not escape being known, anymore. No more secrets, and no more hiding. [EDIT: I love the fact that Lanyon sees through Hyde, just like how Henry saw through Lanyon’s nonsense, all those years ago. I hadn’t expected that flashback story from Lanyon, but it was SO lovely, especially in how it was used to illustrate that Lanyon GETS IT. He understands the desire to keep up an act, a reputation. He gets what it’s like to hide certain aspects of yourself from the wider world. He can RELATE to both Jekyll, and Hyde. Love it!!] In other words, here’s a handy dandy tweet from Sage, which perfectly illustrates my point:

(This was a comment on an update post for the last page of Chapter 15, where Lanyon finally showed up.)

And it IS mortifying, letting people in! I get it! I do. But sometimes, there is no other option left…except for accepting your own annihilation. Resigning to suffering. But Lanyon has always been familiar with Henry’s tendency to resign himself to his own suffering. For fifteen years, in fact.

And he’s not afraid to force the issue. Lanyon, as I’ve said before, is one of the stubbornest people Jekyll and Hyde have ever known. And sometimes, that’s a really good thing. So Hyde will probably try to reject Lanyon’s help at first. But it won’t stop Lanyon from trying to help anyway. And I do believe Hyde will be the first to give in. He’s in a crisis, remember? One’s stubbornness may tend to give way in such extremely high stakes circumstances. The stakes are literally life and death! What’s worth more, then? One’s pride? Or one’s very life?

———

Final new writing starts here: It’s interesting to me that Hyde didn’t physically push Lanyon away when he started with the first aid on Hyde’s poor bloodied hands. I was right that Lanyon would just help him anyway, without waiting for Hyde’s approval, but I was wrong in thinking Hyde would clearly try to reject it. Instead, he’s just…bewildered. Like he has no idea what’s happening anymore. Lanyon isn’t acting how Hyde would expect at all, and that’s throwing Hyde off in a big way. Hyde is probably thinking something like, if Lanyon knows I’m me and not Jekyll, but he’s helping me anyway, then…?! And it just…doesn’t make sense to him. It does not compute. It goes against all of Jekyll and Hyde’s views of themselves, and of the world. If Lanyon--a handsome gentleman who dislikes gross stuff, and never understood Henry’s fascination with monsters or rogue science--is willingly helping Hyde, who believes himself to be a wretched monster (brought forth with mad science! Wicked alchemy!) who ruined himself, ruined everything, then what is even going on anymore? Has the whole world turned upside down?! And so it becomes clear that, not only are Jekyll and Hyde bad at understanding themselves, sometimes they’re quite bad at understanding their loved ones, too. But to be fair, Lanyon was putting on an act, too. He spent so long brushing off any accusation of feelings, of sentimentality, and worry for his best friend. It’s only recently that Lanyon decided to be open with how much he truly cares about Henry. And it’s still a bit hard for him, I imagine. Being vulnerable. Opening yourself up. But Lanyon has learned that it’s worth it, when it counts. And this? This is absolutely the time when it counts the most. The stakes are the highest they’ve ever been. And I hope, and theorize, that soon enough, Hyde will learn the value of opening himself up, too. It might just help save his life.

It might just help them save Jekyll.

...And that's the end! Thank you so much to anyone who reads to the end, and leave a comment in the post reply section, if you feel like it! I love any and all feedback!! I'll be back soon with a follow up where I examine some other things Lanyon and Hyde have in common, among other topics. Stay tuned! :D

#the glass scientists #tgs #tgs meta #tgs analysis #tgs theories #tgs hyde #tgs lanyon

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cannedpickledpeaches · 1 year ago

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Insert Your Name (1)

Mafia!Jade Leech x Mafia!Reader

Link to series masterlist!

Notes and TW: I wanted to write something that simultaneously includes some fun Jade moments as well as my own thoughts on some tropes. This series will have mentions of blood, violence, crime (kidnapping, attempted assassination, extortion), and harassment, as one might expect from a mafia AU. Please enjoy!

You’ve known the truth for a while—that this world exists inside a story. This is a world that revolves around a nameless, faceless, flawless main character. This entire world around you exists to serve one purpose: to present trials to the main character until she eventually finds a happy ending with her one and only. This world is created for “(Y/N).”

You are Friend A. Friend A is a foolish girl who puts (Y/N) into a dangerous situation, involving her with the mafia. (Y/N) is saved by a tall, dark, and brooding man who turns out to be a mafia boss. They will face dangers in the underworld until all threats are eliminated, and then they will live out the rest of their lives in blissful peace as though they are good people. Friend A is never mentioned again after page two.

You are Friend A. You are aware of that.

So why don’t you break out of your role in this story? Why should you play your part instead of using this knowledge to change the flow of the plot?

Simply because the plot is beneficial to you.

You are Friend A. You are a core member of the Leech Mafia. When (Y/N) enters the mafia, her actions flick the first domino of a long chain of events, eventually leading to the prosperity of the Leech family and expanding their influence. Because no matter what, this story caters to (Y/N)’s livelihood.

And why should you interfere with something that will eventually pay out big for you?

There she is now, coming down the street with a smile. Her indistinct hair is in a messy bun that she always throws together in seconds. Her pants emphasize her incredibly tiny waist, and her eyes sparkle with the light of constellations when she sees you. A light blush dusts her cheeks even though she doesn’t wear makeup, and she passes all the people captivated by her on the sidewalk, oblivious to their stares, because she doesn’t believe in her innate beauty and charisma—the beauty and charisma that the story says she has.

“Oh, there you are!” Her voice, clear and sweet, rings out to you. You wave back, just as you are supposed to. “You said you wanted to get sweets from the bakery that just opened, right? I’m so excited. I love sweets! I saved up some money just for this.”

A dialogue line full of exposition. You nod and lead the way.

“Have you seen their Magicam posts? The cakes are so pretty.”

Her giggles chime like bells. “I think the strawberry one is the cutest!”

Your small talk has little to no substance. It exists only to pass the time. To be honest, you don’t mind. If this were any normal day, you would have enjoyed this. You would have visited that bakery with (Y/N), gone home with a strawberry tart, checked up on the ledgers for the mafia, and slept while fed and content. But today is the inciting incident of the story, and you have your part to play.

A dark alleyway is where these things always take place in stories. Four men smoking and muttering ominously to themselves lean against a brick wall, hidden in shadow. Their eyes follow your every step. You make sure to walk on the outside of the sidewalk so that (Y/N) passes by the alley. As expected, their hands shoot out and grab her arm.

“Hey, you there.” One of the thugs licks his chops. “Got a minute to spare, pretty thing?”

Generic “bad guy” dialogue. Of course, he’s talking to (Y/N). You don’t need to do anything yet except make sure the pieces are in place. A flutter of black fabric in the corner of your vision assures you that the main lead is ready and waiting.

“Get your hands off me!” (Y/N) struggles against his much stronger grip to no avail. The men pull us into the alleyway and corner us against a dumpster. Tasteful.

“Don’t be so harsh.” Another thug whose voice scrapes like glass shards to the ears grabs your shoulder. You don’t shrug him off. Right now, your role is to lay low and let the main character shine. “We just wanna show you a good time.”

“You can fuck right off! And don’t touch my friend.” (Y/N) shows off her generically headstrong personality now. She probably thinks that she should protect you. You are Friend A, without any special characteristics, a piece of cannon fodder that cannot do anything on your own. Even though (Y/N) doesn’t consciously think that way, this is how she perceives the world. She is not wrong for doing so—she’s being sweet, in the way that she is designed to be.

You don’t have anything to do while she shoots off her scathing remarks, so you take your time to observe the thugs. Just as the story you read describes, these men come from an easily identifiable rival mafia. All four have a tattoo of a handsaw on their bodies—the symbol of the Carpenter Mafia, the current major group in the Queendom of Roses. Common soldiers, no doubt. Not anyone of importance . . . yet.

Thug Number One brings your attention back to the conversation by yanking on your hair. It hurts a little. Irritating, but you can bear with it. (Y/N) looks outraged.

“How about this? Since you’re so determined to save your friend, I’ll let her go if you give yourself to us.” He continues with his harassment by grabbing your cheeks with his grimy fingers. You inhale deeply and immediately regret it due to the smell of his breath. Your mind urges you to refrain from giving him a nice fist to the face. Not just from his treatment of you, but also from his gross proposition to (Y/N). Despite your respective roles in this story, she is still your friend. Hearing him throw those slimy words at her leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

(Y/N) puts up a struggle. “I won’t give you anything!”

“Do you think you’re in a position to make demands?”

She hesitates, looking at you with conflicting emotions warring on her features. Takes a deep breath, just as the story says she would. Then, with a wavering voice and a tough façade, she agrees.

You take your cue to run from the alleyway, abandoning her the way Friend A is meant to do. You don’t have to worry. After all, the thugs won’t be able to do anything before the male lead steps in and saves her.

There isn’t much time to waste until you get an update on the story. You hail a taxi to a neighbourhood by the sea. You tip the driver handsomely, bid him a good day, then walk another block before arriving at a mansion. There’s nobody here to greet you except the security guards at the front gates.

You scan the trees. Looks like he’s in a good mood. When he’s upset, he doesn’t usually climb. He hasn’t noticed you yet—his back is turned, his head buried in a particularly thick patch of leaves, and you’re downwind.

“Floyd!”

He turns so suddenly that you’re worried he’ll get whiplash. A grin lights up his face, and without a single reservation, he jumps right off the tree and lands smoothly on your side of the fence surrounding one of the Leeches' many properties. The sun shines across his handsome, sharp features. Of course, the twin brother of the male lead must be gorgeous in accordance with the axioms that govern this world.

“Handfish, how was it? Did Jade meet her?” Even though you are Friend A in this story, to Floyd, you are just his friend. He hasn’t given you a generic nickname like the “minnows” that he calls the family’s soldiers and staff. To him, you are an individual who is interesting enough to grant a personal nickname. Even if that nickname is “Red Handfish.”

“Yeah, he did. I saw his blazer.” You think back to the black fabric you saw before entering the alley. “I bet he’s doing the whole ‘I can’t let you live’ conversation with her.”

In the story, one of the thugs reveals Jade’s identity as a mafia boss in front of (Y/N) before he passes out. How a common foot soldier of the Carpenter mafia can recognize Jade, whose face is kept classified from lower-ranked members of the underworld, is worrying enough to warrant investigation. This could simply be a result of poor writing from the original plot, but you are also an example of the original story’s loose ends. If someone like you, who was meant to disappear after page two, can still have any significance and will instead of vaporizing immediately after you left that alley, then you can’t be too careful.

“Bet he’s being real smooth with it.” Floyd cackles, his raspy laugh reminding you of a chain smoker after five consecutive packs. “She’s gonna fall for it hook, line, and sinker.”

“Of course. We’re talking about Jade.” Even under regular circumstances, he’s charming enough to lure any poor, unsuspecting fool to their demise. “They’re going to come here any minute now. Let’s go inside.”

You pass the security guards and enter the Leech property. A perfectly paved ground with colourful stones and not a weed in sight. A marble fountain surrounded by neat, rectangular hedges. And of course, the enormous white mansion with huge double doors, which in turn have proportionally huge fancy glass windows. For (Y/N) to have a “perfect” ending, the world must allow her to escape her current life of scrimping and saving by marrying her into a wealthy family.

“I wonder what the little minnow looks like.” Floyd hums, sauntering into the living room. “I bet she’d break easily if I squeezed real hard, huh?”

“Don’t do that.” The two of you sit on a velvet couch. Floyd’s long limbs sprawl out and take up the majority of the space. You settle on the far end. “And are you going to keep calling her a minnow?”

“Dunno, haven’t met her yet.”

“She’s very pretty. When you meet her, I’m sure you’ll get the feeling that there’s something special about her.”

The story emphasizes how much Floyd adores (Y/N). She is supposed to become a sort of mood stabilizer for him, keeping him consistently happy in her presence. You wonder if that will actually happen. Floyd can and will throw tantrums around people he holds dear. His mood that flips at the drop of the hat seems difficult to stabilize on just affection alone.

He shrugs non-committedly. Just as you’re about to suggest a nickname he could use, your phone buzzes.

Five minutes away. Jade’s text is short and to the point. You stand and stretch, getting ready to play Peeping Tom.

“Remember, don’t say anything about the original plot, okay?” Floyd’s unpredictable nature worries you. You know that your reminder won’t do much if Floyd decides it would be fun to spill the beans anyway, but you can’t help yourself.

“I know, I know.” He frowns and waves you off. Laughing, you move to the room across the hall. He hates being told what to do, but he’s in a good mood right now. It won’t be a problem.

The front door creaks open. Through a crack in the door, you watch Jade carry (Y/N) in his arms like a princess and set her down on the couch. Smooth, easy, efficient, the way he likes to do everything. Even though you know he is acting, his movements, the soft look in his eyes, are almost believable to you. And you’ve known him for fifteen years. There’s an odd stirring in your chest. Guilt? Envy? You tamp it down.

For a fraction of a second, you swear you make eye contact with him. If he notices you, he doesn’t show it. He seems to redouble his efforts on acting sweet to (Y/N). It might just be your imagination.

Floyd pokes around at the two of them the way he always does when he’s curious about something new. His grating laugh fills the air while Jade bandages a scrape on her knee. Good, the scene is going exactly as described in the story. (Y/N)’s first colourful and memorable experience with her future family. Her new family must be fun, rich, kind to her, and love her unconditionally no matter the circumstances. Her new family has to be better in every way compared to her current one—a mother who passed away at childbirth and a scummy father who neglects her. For an author, these are simply lazy ways to give her a tragic backstory and simultaneously pretend her parents don’t exist for the rest of the story because they don’t add to the romance.

How horrible. How could a late mother and neglectful father not affect a person? How could they simply be written off as another thing the male lead “saves” her from? And for that matter, how can the author casually write in a scene where she is cornered by adult men who are physically far stronger than her, who harass her and make disgusting comments, just so she can meet the male lead? How can they just pretend that won’t lead to any trauma?

You know firsthand how (Y/N) lives her life, because despite the story labeling you as the disposable Friend A, you genuinely have been her friend for the past year. You’ve seen her live on plain rice porridge for days to cut grocery costs. You’ve seen her wear clothes until they are threads because she can’t afford to buy new ones. Oh, but isn’t it wonderful that she’s skinny and looks good in everything?

What a load of bullshit.

#disney twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #jade leech #jade leech x reader #twst fanfic #floyd leech #twst jade #(y/n)'s the main character but you aren't her #slow burn #you're gonna have to read some plot #before you get to the fluff #this is actually just my excuse to write something sort of meta

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daydreamingoncloud9 · 18 days ago

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Nagi Seishiro: A Divergent Path

Spoilers for Chapters 1, 2, 117, 147, 254, 280, 281, 295, 298, 299 & 300 of Blue Lock and Chapters 2, 3 & 4 of Blue Lock: Episode Nagi.

Similar to my last post on Nagi & Reo, this post is also not necessarily a shipping post, but because I do ship nagireo, it might colour my analysis on them, so fair warning. »»————- ⳮⷤ ── ⲇ ── ⳮⷤ ————-««

With the release of the new chapters, I wanted to bring up an interesting parallel I noticed that helps strengthen the theory that Nagi and Reo's journey together will not end here. In fact, I think this parallel just helps to cement that they will continue to diverge from the rest, even with this recent failure.

To start, I think it is beneficial to establish that Nagi and Isagi are meant to be foils in the story and they often have scenes that parallel each other in key ways.

Many others have already pointed these parallels out before, but for argument's sake, I will list some of them down regardless.

Isagi's ego flaring after he shoots on his own vs Nagi's ego flaring after he sees Reo

2. Isagi being the first to enter Blue Lock vs Nagi (& Reo) being the last

3. isagi scoring the final goal of the U-20 match vs Nagi scoring the first goal

4. Isagi being classified as a "world-style" talented learner vs Nagi who is classified as a "self-style" genius

5. And most recently, Isagi who was at the top of the winners' bracket vs Nagi who was at the top of the losers' bracket

Even their designs are meant to be foils of each other wherein Isagi is short (relatively), has a weaker physical build and a darker colour palette vs Nagi's who's tall, has a stronger physical build and a lighter colour palette.

There are surely plenty more parallels you can find throughout the series, but with this, I hope that I manage to successfully establish that there is a pattern going on and this makes the next parallel I'm going to draw up quite interesting.

So!

Going back to the Blue Lock Entrance Test, I want to zoom in on what Ego considers to be "the egotism of a striker".

The idea that in this instance, a striker is someone who "tries to defeat someone stronger than themselves", "goes after the strongest one" and has an "obsession with their own victory which can't be swayed by others' common sense" is fascinating because it describes both Bachira and Isagi, yes, but it also describes someone who ended up losing despite following that doctrine: Nameoka Ryo.

In these few pages alone, we can see that Nameoka fulfills all the criteria of the "striker" that Ego is looking for. Not only is he purposefully going after the people who he perceives as the strongest, he is doing so despite it being seen as rather illogical because of the risk that he is willingly undertaking by focusing on no one else but Nagi and Reo.

Now you can argue that this definition of a striker's "egoism" is rather shallow because the idea has evolved and expanded over the course of the story, and yes I agree. But in the context of these specific scenes, we are being told that this way of playing is the "correct" way because of how it aligns with Ego's words (whose words are often law). Therefore, Nameoka, in these scenes, is considered the "ideal striker".

So what does it mean when the "ideal striker" loses?

In my opinion, having Nameoka lose, and making it so that Nagi is the one that causes him to lose is a purposeful narrative decision to help support the idea that ultimately, despite being in opposition to Isagi's route and therefore against Ego's ideals, Nagi's (and Reo's) path is valid.

Even the fact that Reo was saved by Nagi here is relevant because of how it supports the validity of their divergent path.

Circling back to Kira's elimination for a second, we see that Ego condemns Kira because when the ball hit him, he "gave up and accepted his defeat" and in his eyes, this is what it means to "run away" from the egotism of a striker and that is why he lost.

And what is interesting here is Kira's acceptance of defeat parallels Reo's acceptance of defeat. Notice that just like Kira, Reo was prematurely thinking about his defeat under the hands of another player (Zantetsu) and was blind to the options that he had after being hit.

This is why the "5 seconds" timer was placed behind Reo as it illustrates how he had turned his back on other options except defeat even though there was plenty of time for him to think of a back-up plan, especially considering how Reo had significantly more time than Kira did (1 second vs 5 seconds).

If we were to follow the original scenario, this would have been the end of Reo and consequently, the end of Nagi and Reo's joint path, but Nagi literally interrupts this narrative and denies its unfolding.

And not only does he deny it, he also manuevers The Egoist's plot device (the ball) to eliminate Ego's "ideal striker", cementing the fact that their path, while divergent from Ego's, is a valid path to take because it succeeds.

I think we have to question why Kaneshiro-sensei and Nomura-sensei felt that it was important for Nameoka (again, the "ideal striker) to be eliminated after Nagi reaffirms his determination to stay with Reo (and therefore reaffirming their partnership) and after Reo is shown to have run away from a striker's egoism.

I truly believe it is to showcase that Nagi and Reo's partnership and joint path, despite all the ups and downs, will prevail and even succeed in usurping the "ideal" egoists in the end.

It's just a matter of looking at all the options and not admitting defeat.

#so er #i think it's been like 2 years now since my last bllk analysis?#i truly didn't think i was gonna stick to this fandom for so long but nagireo continue to have a chokehold on me so it is what it is #i actually wanted to bring up the fact that unlike with kira‚ ego doesn't condemn nameoka for his actions here #to me‚ this is also an indicator that nameoka did everything 'right' in ego's eyes #which points to his lost contributing to something in the overarching narrative #but it didn't fit the flow unfortunately so im just rambling about it here HAHA #nagi seishiro #mikage reo #seishiro nagi #reo mikage #nagi seishirou #seishirou nagi #blue lock manga spoilers #bllk manga spoilers #blue lock spoilers #bllk spoilers #blue lock episode nagi manga spoilers #blue lock analysis #blue lock meta #blue lock #blue lock manga #blue lock episode nagi #The Cloud Talk #this post was supposed to be out a lot earlier but i kept procrastinating jdsaljdlsaj

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mari-lair · 1 year ago

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Let's talk about Akane's overprotection of Aoi and the dangers of not properly setting up a narrative tone.

We are told that Akane stalks Aoi because guys have been trying to force her into a relationship for years, so he protects her by beating up anyone who approaches. Nene and Kou are understandably horrified by this.

But in the very next page, Aidairo hit us with this tone switch:

What Akane is saying is contradictory to the violent and possessive narrative that was shown during his introduction, to this yandere role he played the entire chapter, but the manga is trying to convey that we should take him seriously here. Even the lighting and composition are the ones used when characters are vulnerable and Aidairo wants to show that what they feel is real.

It's strange...

Being possessive is never framed as something that leaves other characters in awe, just compare Akane's melancholic and peaceful gaze to the creepy tone used when Kou and Hanako have their "you are possessive" moment.

Both Kou and Hanako hate that part of themselves, Kou even rejects it, but it's still clear the rejection doesn't make him any less possessive. Both want to be dependable, they want to be the only choice, no one else is acceptable. It's a selfish feeling. Being 'the most important person' is more important than the joy of the person they want to help (Kou's wish is Mitsuba needing him, instead of Mitsuba happy as a human. Hanako wants to be the one to save Nene, the idea of Nene being saved by someone else does not satisfy him even if it would make her happy and safe)

So this isn't a "Akane is lying to himself" or a "he is delusional" case.

The narrative, which had presented Akane as a yandere, wants us to believe that "I will protect Ao-chan... Even if she never looks my way" is not only what Akane believes to be true, but also something admirable. A sentiment Nene craves directed her way, claiming to be 'a little jealous' of Aoi, despite calling Akane scary a single page ago.

Let's rewind to see how we got here.

Akane and Aoi's stories suffer from being mostly given to us in gags for a good chunk of the manga, as they are not very relevant in the early arcs, but the crumbs come together after their confrontation in chapter 69.

Why is Akane stalking Aoi? Because he worries about her. Not about someone stealing her necessarily, but about her being hurt or forced into situations she is uncomfortable with.

They are very codependent. They have been for years.

We can see Akane being shocked at the sight of people bullying Aoi since they were kids, it isn't just 'boys who want to date her' that makes her uncomfortable. Jealous girls do too.

Even when Aoi is left alone, using clothes completely out of her cutesy style to attract less attention, and just living her life, she is still harassed.

Aoi's life is a nightmare, it straight up sucks. She hates that, and when Akane notices this discomfort, he hates that too.

He is far more protective than possessive, he doesn't care when people are touchy with Aoi as long as she welcomes the touch: Take Nene as an example.

Akane never touches Aoi at the start of the manga but Nene does, a lot. He never think "Nene is touching my Ao-chan! Unforguivable". "Maybe Ao-chan likes Nene more than me is not far!" or anything of sorts

Even when Aidairo uses the same over-the-top/creepy gag humor I personally find excessive, and Aoi straight up flirts with Nene, Akane's only thoughts about it are the usual "I love her so much"

When he does show dislike for Nene it's never because she is of value to Aoi. It's because of how dismissive Nene can be, not taking Aoi's safety seriously and easily excusing Hanako's actions.

We only see him be aggressive with Nene when Hanako possesses her and makes Aoi uncomfortable.

The problem here is the framing, the comedy focus. It's hard to take it seriously.

Everything about Akane's intro chapter is hard to take seriously. We are told he is "Hard working. Reliable. What a nice and sweet person."

But we aren't shown these honorable qualities much, not explicitly at least. The big panels, the main focus, is on his gag.

And his main joke is that he loves excessively, even for this school standard where everyone is weird (like Nene writing a self-ship fanfic with Teru) so he needs to be over the top, his behavior has to stand out!

How do they try to achieve this? Yandere jokes.

It is overplayed, they spend pages on it. WHOLE PAGES on it.

It is an old narrative trick to present a twist character as a comic relief to lower suspicion, to keep the more important characterization for after a reveal when they are oficially important, but framing all his actions as comedic and devoid of dept to make his reveal as No.1 more unexpected leaves him in a strange position: Akane is intended to be written as a protector but framed as a joke, to the point his introduction become the satire of a protector.

When he is revealed as the clock keeper and allowed to be given more focus, Aidairo try to explain his behavior and show signs of him being a genuinely caring and kind person, as the first part of his intro had promised.

But it's to late.

His crazy actions and anger issues is in most people's minds, a few lines can't erase pages and pages of his introduction as a yandere like archetype, so it's easy for first impression bias to come into play and interpret all his actions as a simple "He is obsessive." instead of trying to find dept or nuance to the established dependence he has on Aoi.

When we are shown that above wanting to date her, he just wants her to be safe and happy, it does not become clear. The reader needs to pay a lot of attention to small moments like these:

Which a casual reader likely won't. Most are reading for the toilet trio at this point in the manga.

This fumble on his character introduction makes it hard to know what should and shouldn't be taken seriously. Aidairo discarded the yandere narrative relatively quick (we haven't seen Akane's bat in ages) but this gag about being happy as long as Aoi is happy turned out to be important:

It was used to further contrast Aoi's and Akane's mentality on their big arc, and highlight how much nearly losing Aoi affected him.

So the only way we can tell what joke to take seriously cause it will be used to build up his character and what is a gag is hindsight.

I did not care about Aoi and Akane's relationship when I first read the manga, i went 'oh cool!' on their conflict, cause that was very well done, but since their characters were not well introduced, I did not notice a lot of the ideas being shown to me.

Akane is a sweet boy. That's his core, his consistency. Even with Aoi, being kind is the priority over being with her.

Let's compare him with Hanako, who is an openly possessive character, and see how they approach their love interests when they don't know if their love interest likes them back yet, and they aren't reduced to a gag (so we'll dismiss Akane being 'a yandere with a bat', and Hanako's joke of him being a tactless pervert, like peaking under Nene's skirt when her time was frozen)

(so pre-chapter 86 to Hanako and pre-chap 69 to Akane)

Hanako traps Nene, he will cling to her anytime he can, he cares about Nene and loves her dearly, he even says he "loves everything about her" but he is greedy for her attention, he is selfish, always trying to make her focus on him out of everyone in the room and keeping her in his hold, out of others reach. His unsubtle possessive nature is a charm of his, makes for an interesting character.

Akane has a different vibe to it. He doesn't have many serious moments with Aoi before their spotlight arc, unfortunately, but when he does, he focuses on reassuring her (even when her time is frozen and she can't hear him) and avoids touching her at best he can. He has known her for more than 10 years, but he doesn't act as if she belongs to him.

I am not saying Akane is not possessive of her, he is. But he tends to be more worried about her than anything.

Using hanako as the trademark of possessiveness again, check out these two scenes:

At the start of the manga Kou likes Nene, and Akane is under the impression Teru like Aoi, so both scenes follow the basic premise of "A know B has a crush on their crush, and they get possessive over a possible romantic rival being too close."

Hanako doesn't say anything, but his message is clear "She is mine."

Akane explicitly says he doesn't like Teru near Aoi but he doesn't try to remove Aoi from Teru or try to do anything violent. Why would he? Aoi is in no danger, nor is she uncomfortable, so he changes focus to the person who is troubled, awkwardly reassuring Teru that his distress is, in his personal opinion, stupid, so "chill bro".

He wasn't like that with Teru before.

He was so determined to stop the wedding he even rejected hanging out with Aoi, crying tears of blood and asking for her forgiveness in his mind but prioritizing not making her get together with Teru above her joy.

Is that because of his development? Yes! A big part is. Notice the way he treats his mental image as reality? That was his biggest flaw, he imposed his views on Aoi (the view being "everyone is stupid in love with Teru" in this case), and assumed what he believes is a universal truth, doing exactly what Aoi accused him of: Not seeing her, just an idea of her.

But the reason he went so crazy and determined, it's because Akane saw Teru as someone dangerous. Someone who would use Aoi. Hurt her. He believes he is protecting Aoi from the big bad president. A view that makes sense when we take into consideration both Aoi's history of being forced into relationships, and when we go back to their interaction.

Look at this and tell me this isn't a threat:

Teru acts as if he barely remembers her name, she is just 'that cute girl', mostly a tool for him to use against Akane.

When his view of Teru changes to someone kinder who genuinely cares about Aoi as a person, he no longer enters protective mode.

He is still bothered about the idea of Aoi being with someone else, he does noooot look pleased even with his fairy tale vision of a happy couple, but the way he treats this possible 'rivalry of love' when he does believe Teru loves her is so different from his "Don't get close to her!! I will NOT allow it!!" approach.

There is no insecure overthinking. No aggression. He is playful about it. He even teases Teru.

He just wants to focus on rescuing Aoi. A 'rivalry' isn't important. He needs her to be safe.

These two parts of Akane have been juggling for a long while.

But now, character focus is the priority, and I am thankful the damage is being undone, that Aidairo let Akane's love take up whole pages instead of small panels buried under pages of jokes.

Their codependence, no matter how many issues it has, and how it can sabotage them, is based on so much care for each other.

It's a shame I only believe Akane was sincere when he said he'll always be there to protect Aoi regardless if he 'gets to be with her', because of what we see later in the manga, not because of what had been set up in his intro.

#Every time i see the page of Akane gently cradling Aoi's face and crying over her being safe my heart break #tbhk #toilet bound hanako kun #jshk #jibaku shounen hanako kun #look at me trying to do a narrative structure analysis despite always failing lit class #aoi akane #akane aoi #aoikane #aoiaoi #long post #character analysis

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