#just noticed I can’t write :)

[secretmellowblog]

Another reason I dislike Les Mis adaptations that make Jean Valjean constantly openly angry/violent is because they miss that Jean Valjean is not allowed to be angry. The fact he is forbidden from expressing anger is, I argue, actually a very important part of his character in the novel!

One of the subtler political messages of the story is that some people are given freedom to express anger, while others are forced to be excessively meek and conciliatory in order to survive.

Wealthy conservatives like Monsieur Gillenormand can “fly into rages” every five minutes and have it treated as an endearing quirk. Poor characters like Fantine or Jean Valjean must be constantly polite and ingratiating to “their superiors” at all times, even in the face of mockery and violence, or else they will be subjected to punishment. If Gillenormand beats his child with a stick, it’s a silly quirk; if Fantine beats a man harassing her, she is sentenced to months in prison.

(Thenardier and Javert are interesting examples of this too. Thenardier acts superficially polite and ingratiating to his wealthy “superiors” while insulting them behind their backs. Javert, meanwhile, is completely earnest in his mindless bootlicking. But I could write an entire other post on this.)

The point is that….Jean Valjean has to be submissive and self-effacing, or he puts himself in danger. He can’t afford to be angry and make scenes, or he will be punished. The only barrier between himself and prison is his ability to be so “courteous” that no one bothers to pry into his past.

Jean Valjean is excessively polite to people, in the way that you’re excessively polite to an armed cop who pulls you over for speeding when you secretly have a few illegal grams of marijuana in the your car trunk. XD It’s politeness built on fear, is what I mean. It’s politeness built on a desperation to make a powerful person avoid looking too closely at you.

It’s politeness at gunpoint.

Jean Valjean has also spent nineteen years living in an environment where any expression of anger could be punished with severe violence. That trauma is reflected in the overly cautious reserved way he often speaks with people (even people who are kind and would never actually hurt him.)

So adaptations that have Jean Valjean boldly having shouting matches with people in public and beating cops half to death without worrying about the repercussions just make go like “???”

Because that’s part of what’s fascinating about Jean Valjean to me? On one hand, he is a genuinely kind compassionate person, who cares deeply about other people and behaves kindly out of altruism. But on the other hand, he was also “beaten into submission” by prison, and forced into adopting conciliatory bootlicking behaviors in order to survive. And it can sometimes be hard to tell when he is being kind vs. when he is being “polite” — when he is speaking and acting out of earnest compassion vs. when he is speaking and acting out of fear.

The TL;DR is that I think it’s important that even though Jean Valjean is very (justifiably) angry about the injustice that was inflicted on him, his anger is harshly policed at all times— by other people, and by himself. He has been told his anger is wrong/selfish so often that he believes it. His anger takes weirder more unhealthy forms because he has no safe outlet for it. His rage at society becomes a possessiveness towards Cosette and silent hatred of Marius, but primarily it becomes useless self-destructive constant hatred of himself. And while I might be phrasing this wrong, I think that’s what’s interesting about Jean Valjean’s relationship with anger— the way his justified fury at his own mistreatment gets warped into more and more unhealthy forms by the way he’s forced to constantly repress it.

[viperwhispered]

Rest

Guess what? I've got more Jamil x reader for y'all. You can also find this on ao3. No warnings, just 866 words of kinda fluffy(?) caretaking stuff with gender-neutral reader.

At this point, you know Jamil’s schedule almost as well as he does. So, when you have the chance, you head to Scarabia’s kitchen, hoping to spend some time with Jamil while he and the other students prepare dinner. 

However, when you enter, it takes you but a moment to notice Jamil’s uncharacteristic fumbling and the tired look in his eyes. The way Jamil’s chopping the vegetables has you worried about him cutting himself with that knife he’s usually so adept with, and it seems it’s only force of habit that’s keeping him on track.

You frown, and when your eyes meet Jamil’s, you can already see him put his guard up.

So he knows what state he is in, huh? And still, here he is.

It seems Jamil is reading your thoughts, all of him telling you drop it before any words are even said.

At least he still lets you lean in and give a quick kiss to his cheek in greeting.

“Hello love. Do you still have a lot on your agenda for today?” you ask, keeping your tone low for at least some semblance of privacy in the busy kitchen.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” is the response you get.

Of course.

It takes a little more pestering before Jamil actually answers your question. Your lips purse. That list is far too long to your liking.

You take a moment to think, juggling your own plans and to-do list against the urgency of the things Jamil mentioned.

“Will Kalim be eating from that?” you ask, pointing at the food Jamil is preparing.

“Yes.”

“Alright, I won’t be touching that one, then. I’ve gotta do a few things but I’ll be back when you’re done here.”

“Don’t,” Jamil says with a glare, clearly aware of what you’re thinking.

Yet even his disapproving look doesn’t have the usual weight behind it.

“Yes. I will,” you say firmly, even as your heart curls inwards with another bout of concern.

Really, when did he get so tired?

And how did you not notice it earlier?

You leave the kitchen before Jamil can protest further, hurrying through the dorm corridors to find Kalim.

Soon you have an enthusiastic – and concerned – supporter for your plans. You have Kalim point out a few reliable Scarabia students to help with a few of the most urgent matters Jamil mentioned – cleaning up the common areas, delivering some paperwork to Crowley, preparing some dorm-wide notices – while you see to Kalim getting his school supplies in order for the following day. You even recruit a couple of third years to help Kalim with his homework.

You’ll see to the rest tomorrow – after all, you do also have a boyfriend to look after.

Your conversation over dinner can hardly be called anything else than an argument – despite Kalim’s best attempts at acting as a moderating force between you two. It is very tempting to ask Kalim to tell Jamil to take the rest of the day off – it’s not like Jamil would be willing to openly disobey a direct order. Still, you really don’t need to remind Jamil of his position on top of everything else that you’re already doing more or less against his wishes.

Eventually, however, Jamil’s had a square meal, the most urgent things on his to-do list are being taken care of, and you’ve managed to drag him to his bed.

“I really wish you wouldn’t push yourself so hard,” you murmur, your arms wrapped tightly around Jamil. You’re telling yourself you really do just want to cuddle, to offer some respite to Jamil. Still, there might also be a part of you worried that if you were to let go, he’d just jump up and get back to working himself to the bone.

Yet, for all his protestations, just the fact that you’ve gotten Jamil to lay down with you speaks volumes of his current exhaustion.

“I can’t just leave my duties, albi. You know this.”

“Making yourself too indispensable, is what you’re doing,” you protest.

Oh, you know it’s not so simple. Not with his background, not with all the expectations and assumptions.

But sometimes you really wish it would be.

Jamil merely scoffs in response to your words.

Still, it is undeniable that he is slowly beginning to relax in your arms, slowly bringing his head closer to yours. His eyes are starting to flutter, too.

“I will still need to help Kalim with his homework, at the very least.”

You wonder who he is trying to convince more, you or himself.

“Amin and Khalil are helping him. They’re basically top of their classes, aren’t they? I’m sure they’ve got it.”

Still, Jamil frowns.

You sigh. He really is not letting go, is he?

“Do you want me to go supervise?” you ask.

And leave you, unsaid yet hanging there right after your words.

“Don’t,” Jamil eventually says, the word barely more than a breath.

It seems he has accepted his fate.

You softly caress Jamil’s hair, listening to his softening breathing.

And when you wake up, wholly unaware of having been lulled to sleep in the first place, it’s to the lightest of touches from Jamil’s fingers.

Tagging @diodellet @twstgo @crystallizsch @jamilvapologist @jamilsimpno69 as per request If you'd like to be tagged for any future works, let me know!

[wickmitz]

— THE ELECTRIC-FEVER REMEDY.

[risingmoonyue]

Someone write me a ShinRan fic that reads like a stereotypical shojo. Whether this takes place in canon or an au is optional. The only requirement is that Shinichi is cast where there is usually a girl, and Ran where a guy is.

[crazy-fangirl2524]

I had a dream where Neil needs to talk to Betsy so they lowkey got closer to the point Neil might goes to Betsy sometimes for issues right and have semi regular sessions and in one of them they are talking about Andrew and Kevin and because Neil overheard a conversation between Kevin and Betsy and then says something to Betsy like

“That’s where Kevin is wrong, he doesn’t notice the way Andrew looked at him. I know im attractive and that’s why Andrew started noticing me but before me there’s Kevin but Kevin doesn’t notice.”

“Then why you?” Betsy asks Neil.

“It doesn’t have to be me, I’m not special. It could’ve been anyone.”

[fangirlerastour]

In my head, Peeta teaches Effie to paint and then whenever Haymitch is out she starts to paint little stars or flowers or sunsets or whatever around the house in hidden corners, on cupboard doors, under the table etc and doesn’t tell Haymitch to see how long it takes him to notice. What she doesn’t know is Haymitch spots them after like the second painting but doesn’t tell her because he doesn’t want her to stop doing them

[foodsies4me]

So much fun to wake up to shitty comments on a fic that has a clearly stated « not beta read » tag.

[toyouhellohowareyou]

Hey, just wanted to say I read the snippets of your completionist fic and it's a hilarious concept I absolutely love it so if you have any more I'd love to read them if not that's perfectly fine I understand

So the impression I've gotten from the response to these snippets is that I need to put this back on the active WIP list in the new year 😅

Thanks for your interest ❤️

Ask and you shall receive

Legend wonders, as he and Fable step out of the portal and take in the scene, if they’re all a bit dramatic. If this repeating cycle of destiny and conflict tied to his soul, and the royal bloodline, and the being that is Ganon shapes them on a deeper level than he realised.

It’s a horrifying insight into himself that he truly didn’t need.

Because here and now a princess stands trapped in a pink crystal. (An old classic for imprisoning princesses, sages, and oracles.)

Here and now a Hero in green steps through the door.

Here and now Ganondorf, the man who will become Ganon, scourge of his era, blight upon his land, is PLAYING A FUCKING PIPE ORGAN to set the ambiance.

It makes Legend reflect on if he would ever be that extra and the horrific realisation is ‘…yeah, maybe?’

He’s named himself ‘Legend’ after all.

[figofswords]

somebody rec me some good books. and they do actually have to be good. don’t rec me something just because it’s gay or it’s popular, it has to also still be good. like both the story and the writing have to be good none of this good concept bad writing or good writing horrible story. fantasy or soft scifi preferred, especially if it’s nontraditional fantasy. I am bored and sick of the internet and I want to get back into reading more but I’m kinda meh about most of what’s on my shelf

*edit: when I say “soft scifi” I don’t mean cozy I mean not hard scifi, as in stories that are more fantastical than grounded in hard science. for example the Martian is considered hard scifi, so not that. Star Wars would be closer to a soft scifi bc it’s all bullshit on the science end and it’s more about the vibes

[heshemejoshi]

more from my pmdverse. im going crazy

[sweetpapercroissant]

i don’t get the appeal of an incest ship if you’re only ever going to focus on the good romantic feelings and not the icky negative ones. the resentment the feeling of being trapped shackled wanting out and away from the person who knows so much too much about you since before you even knew to not allow it but at the same time you can’t imagine living in a world without them being away is like tearing a limb a piece of your soul you will never again be complete without them. no one else will ever understand you the way they do no one else will ever get so deep under your skin and you may hate it but you hate the thought of them not being there even more you can’t stand to see anyone else get to a part of them you didn’t and even worse when they get it before you. you push and you push and you push but when they let go it’s like you’re free falling and it doesn’t matter how far away you run you will never be far enough away because you carry them inside you everywhere you go. you tell yourself you want nothing more than to get away but they’re the only home you will ever have and you won’t ever let anyone get that close you’re already moulded to only fit in perfectly with them and you didn’t have a choice but this is who you are. there’s nothing you could do to make them let you go but there’s nothing you could do to make them let you go. you want to be so close to them you want to merge your bodies into one you hate how crowded you feel when they’re in the same room like they’re sucking in all the air and there isn’t any left for you and you want to get away so you can just breathe but you don’t even want to breathe in the air that hasn’t passed through their lungs first you hate that you feel this way you wish you could claw it out of your veins but then who would you be without it without them you want so much and it’s so ugly and you’re ashamed of how raw that need is how you want every part the good the bad the human you wish none of this had ever happened you feel dirty you never even had a chance to find something else be something else but then you look over and you love them so much so much and when it comes down to it nothing else was ever going to be enough for you anyway.

[adrift-in-thyme]

I read Winter Light by sister_dear the other day (highly recommend; it’s adorable) and had the urge to write something fluffy. And of course, I had to include First because I love him and he deserves good things for once

——————————-

“IT’S SNOWING.”

The ear-shattering exclamation jolts First out of a deep, dreamless slumber. He raises his head, blinking sleep from his eyes. Wind stands a short ways away, gazing out of the bedroom window and bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.

Carefully, First disentangles himself from the mass of slumbering heroes he had been held captive by. Somehow, they had all managed to cram onto a single bed the night before. Though it had been a bit smothering, he can’t help the twinge of remorse at breaking free from the welcome warmth.

“What’s that, Wind?” He whispers, as he gently removes Wild’s arm from where the champion had draped it over his shoulder.

Wind turns to look at him, a huge grin on his face.

“You gotta come see! It’s amazing!!”

The other heroes begin to awaken as First slides out of bed. They come to slowly, groaning and mumbling and shoving off arms and legs and blankets.

“What’s all the ruckus about?” Legend snaps, unwrapping himself from his cocoon of Sky’s sailcloth.

Sky chuckles. First smiles, knowingly, as the veteran continues to grumble, all while taking his sweet time to fully remove himself from the embraces of his brothers. He is a bit like Legend, he supposes — still unwilling to allow himself to grow too attached to those he already holds dear. Both of their carefully constructed walls, however, seem to be crumbling.

The heroes have a way of doing that, First is quickly realizing.

Unable to restrain himself any longer, Wind races back to the bed, practically vibrating with excitement.

“There’s white stuff everywhere outside! It’s all over the barn and the field and-and everything!” He grabs Legend as the veteran sits up, and shakes him so hard his teeth chatter. “IT’S SO BEAUTIFUL.”

Legend shoves him off with a scowl. But he eyes the window curiously.

“Snow day, huh?” Warriors grins. “Well, you know what that means.”

Twilight matches his expression. “We’ve gotta go out in it, that’s what.”

Warriors bumps his shoulder against the rancher’s.

“Exactly.”

Sky rises from the bed now and walks to the window. First follows him.

The lawn is indeed covered in a thick blanket of snow. It seems to glow in the dim light of the cloudy morning. It covers the trees, weighing down their branches, and the tops of the fence, the roof of the stable too. Just as Wind said, it coats everything as far as the eye can see.

First steps closer to the window.

“It has been too long since I last saw snow,” he murmurs.

The last time he had reveled in the icy stuff had been before his imprisonment. He hadn’t realized how much he has missed it.

Sky smiles at him. “This is only the second time I’ve seen it. The first was when Zelda and I had just started building a home on the Surface. I’ll never forget it. It was so beautiful.” He chuckles. “Groose was terrified, though he’ll never admit it.”

First laughs. But before he can say anything further Wild shows up at their elbows.

“You two better get dressed. We’re heading out!”

“Hurry up or everybody’ll muddy the snow before you get to it!” Twilight says as he tugs on his tunic.

A mischievous smirk quirks First’s lips.

“If we try, we can beat them all,” he murmurs to Sky. The Skyloftian’s eyes light up. He turns and practically dives for his tunic and trousers.

They aren’t the only ones intent on making it out first. Before long, it’s all-out chaos in the bedroom. The heroes trip over one another in their haste, laughing and throwing clothes and boots. First nearly gets hit in the face with one of Legend’s.

Miraculously, though, he breaks free of the room before anyone else does. He rushes through the door with a burst of victorious laughter, the others racing after him, still pulling on their scarves.

“How’d you finish first?” Hyrule asks, once he manages to catch up. His tone is accusatory but he’s smiling. “Aren’t your joints old and achy?”

First grins at him. “Ancient though I may be, I am the First Hero. All of your tricks came from me.”

“What on earth are y’all doin’?” Malon asks when they come running into the kitchen. She pauses in her task of kneading some dough to look up at them. “The snow isn’t gonna go anywhere, you know.”

“It’ll get all ruined if we don’t go fast!” Wind exclaims, pushing through the front door. He nearly collides with Time who is coming in with a bucket of water in his hands. The hero raises an eyebrow.

“What’s the hurry, sailor?”

“SNOW!” Wind bellows. “Have you seen it?”

“I have.” Time smiles. “It’s quite beautiful.” His eye twinkles. “And perfect for snowballs.”

Hyrule and Wild exchange a glance, mischief glinting in their gazes. They sprint outside, letting in a rush of cold air in their wake. Wind is right after them, grinning from ear to ear.

“You’ll keep them in line, I trust?” Time mutters to First as he watches the others hurry out, trading playful jabs and yelping as the cold hits their skin.

First grins. “I will do my best.”

Time shakes his head, already turning back to Malon. He is smiling fondly though.

“I look forward to your efforts, First Hero. Wrangling these boys is nothing at all like leading troops, I assure you.”

First heads toward the endless white that beckons him.

“I believe you,” he says. At that moment, he catches sight of Wild dumping a gigantic pile of snow atop Twilight’s prone form. He chuckles, exasperatedly, and steps outside.

He pauses once he is over the doorstep to breathe in deep. The air is cool and crisp, biting at his skin and burning his lungs. The light of the early morning sun glints off of the fresh piles of fluffy white, nearly blinding him. But he squints bravely into it, a smile forming on his lips.

This beautiful day brings to mind one eons ago when he and his goddess had walked hand in hand through the winter wonderland that was Faron Woods.

If he closes his eyes, he can almost still feel her beside him, warm and magical and real. He can still see her beautiful face, brightened with a smile, love and joy and, perhaps, a hint of mischief sparkling in her blue eyes. He can still hear her laugh, loud and happy and free…and entirely at his expense after a tree limb deposits a handful of snow onto his head.

“Hey, First!”

He jolts out of his memory just in time to get a face full of powdery ice. He shakes his head, sputtering as the stuff cascades down his neck.

Sky, of all people, is grinning at him.

“Come on!” he says, laughing. “You said it’s been too long since you enjoyed the snow, right? Let’s have some fun!” He steps closer, expression softening. “She’d want you to.”

First gazes at him for a moment, trying to do away with the unexpected lump in his throat. Then, slowly, he smiles back. If Sky sees the glint of danger in it, he gives no indication.

“You’re right. Hylia would want me to enjoy this lovely weather.” He bends and scoops up a handful of snow, twisting it in between two, practiced hands. “And she would want me to enjoy it in a fashion that honors her.”

Sky’s eyes widen. The snowball hits him smack in the chest.

“Hey, no fair!” He complains. “I was trying to help you feel better!”

First is already in the process of creating more ammunition. But he pauses long enough to send the Skyloftian a cheeky grin.

“Ah, but you did help me feel better, Sky. That’s the problem.”

He throws another projectile. This time, however, Sky is prepared. He ducks into a roll and comes up smoothly a short distance away. Instantly, he digs his fingers into the snow, forming a sloppy snowball. First lunges for him and Sky leaps sideways, laughing. He whirls, sailcloth flying out behind him and nails First right in the face.

“SNOWBALL FIGHT!” Wild howls, as First dives for another handful of snow. And just like that the contained chaos is freed.

So much for keeping them in line, First thinks ruefully.

He has to admit though, that this is much more fun. After centuries of just existing and an eternity of pain, to be able to just have fun is almost a shock. A wonderful one.

Snowballs fly to and fro. Heroes tackle each other, rolling around in the snow, cackling. Shouts ring out as they pummel each other with the icy slush and slip and slide on the icy remnants of their footprints.

It isn’t until Malon calls out, “I don’t suppose any of y’all would like some hot cider?” that they decide to finally call it quits.

Exhaustion hits them as they all trudge inside, sopping wet and shivering. First can see it on every face, making their eyes droop and their movements slower, lazier.

He chuckles as Wild dares to take one, last swing at Twilight. The snow hits Warriors instead. If the captain weren’t already beat, First is certain he wouldn’t hesitate to retaliate.

“Next time, champion,” he warns, pointing a finger at him. A dangerous grin lifts his lips. “Next time I’ll get my revenge.”

“He will, believe me,” Time chimes in from where he stands in the doorway. He hands the heroes each a towel. “Now, dry yourselves off before you ruin the floors.”

When First steps up, trying to subdue his chattering teeth, Time smirks at him.

“I suspect you had fun?”

First grins. “I did. And you?”

He hadn’t missed the stray snowballs that had lacked an apparent source. Nor the mysterious footprints that would sometimes appear on the outskirts of the ruckus.

“Me? Of course. Spending time with my wife is always enjoyable,” the hero replies, calmly, and drops his towel right on top of his head.

First laughs as he drags it off.

After changing and drying themselves off, the heroes drift into the living room. They huddle close, mugs of cider cupped in their hands, drowsily watching the flames dance in the fireplace.

Malon and Time sit side by side on the couch, Malon’s head resting on her husband’s shoulder, Time’s arm wrapped around her. Twilight sits on the other side of them, slumped against Time, blinking as he tries to stay awake. Wild has settled down at his feet and the rancher lazily cards his fingers through his hair. Four is slumped on the champion’s shoulder, already fast asleep. Wild shifts to pull him closer.

Legend and Hyrule are close by, mugs close to tipping as they drift off in each other’s arms. Wind is wrapped in Warriors’ scarf and the captain smiles softly as the small hero sighs and cuddles against him.

First watches them all with a small smile on his lips. Beside him, is Sky, a blanket draped over his shoulders and First’s. The hero settles in closer, resting his head on First. Gently, First puts an arm around him.

This, he thinks as Sky gives him a bleary grin, this is pure bliss.

He almost can’t believe he is free to enjoy it. It feels as though any moment something will appear to shatter it all, like awakening from a pleasant dream.

Perhaps, it will. But for now, in this moment, he chooses to pretend that it won’t.

“Did you,” Sky mumbles, sleepily, “did you enjoy the snow like she would’ve wanted you to?”

First raises his eyes to the window. He swears he can see a figure dressed in white with hair the color of the freshly fallen snow. She turns and smiles at him before dissipating like the morning mist.

He smiles at the space where she once stood.

“Yes, Sky,” he murmurs. “Thanks to all of you, I did.”

[hopecomesbacktolife]

not me reading this definitely m/f romance novel but reading heavily into every interaction between the main character and her best friend…

[no1ryomafan]

Was showing my irls ZXA cause I had shown ZX off before and it was already a trip-my tv fucking broke but that’s a different story-since I haven’t seen the cutscenes in FOREVER but I realized a detail I don’t know how I missed even if no one mentioned it:

There are multiple capsules in Greys room laying face up and the glass is broken, and given Pandora said Grey was going through the mind control sequence, this all but fully confirms the evil mega men we see using the guardian biometals are under mind control and awoke out of these capsules before Grey.

This is information I don’t know how to fucking process.

[m1ckeyb3rry]

me sitting down to write a diabolical and soul-crushing story vs nagi going “i no no wanna :’(” about every plot idea i have

[simgerale]

me after attempting to get back into sims and realizing i had a lot more to do than play the game