#I love you evil stick witch | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sugar-grigri · 6 months

Text

After questioning it, Fujimoto sets fire to his own creation

Witch, cremation, CSM wannabe... what if the work we love was burning?

You might think that the shortness of this chapter means that it doesn't say much, but the opposite is true - it's overflowing with richness and coherence.

The first thing that impressed me was the mastery of the action, particularly Quanxi's attitude during this very scene

The fact that Quanxi bit Fumiko was nothing more than a way of controlling her future pain; she had perfectly understood that she was going to lose her legs as a result of the fall, just as she couldn't bite herself.

I also like the way we understand how extremely fast her regeneration capacity is, in just a few seconds her leg is healed, and the fake chainsaw men don't even have time to get any closer before their heads are flying.

Apart from the action, the chapter is also very rich in dialogue

I'd like to come back to Barem's characterisation of Nayuta as not only a witch but also an ex-Makima.

First of all, it makes sense in terms of the scenario, because if Nayuta were to die, there'd be no more locks, and the public hunters' dilemma would also fall by the wayside.

But we can dig even deeper, whether in the character of Barem or that of Nayuta.

It's not insignificant that the flame-throwing weapon is the one who starts the witch-hunt, just as it's not insignificant that it's Barem who says it, given that he's a character we can describe as religious.

I think Barem is the weapon with the most resentment towards his instrumentalisation, he also sees Nayuta as a threat because she was a former mistress of the weapons.

But above all, why is the control demon closer to a witch than a demon?

Obviously, when we think of witches, we all think of witch-hunting, but let's take the reasoning to its logical conclusion: why hunt witches? The witch is the symbol of what must be eradicated, of a close link with evil, but above all a pretext for the powers that be to eliminate women who represent a form of power.

Calling Makima a witch is consistent, but at the same time it differs in a few respects: she wasn't driven out by the government, she was deliberately put in place by it. But calling Nayuta a witch instead of a demon is consistent, because she's a demon who, despite her desire for control, blends in with humans.

Nayuta sticks to her role as a little girl, whether it's her interest in school or her focus on her family with Denji.

Makima also had a real desire to integrate, despite the fact that her only response to socialisation was domination.

But she remains a witch, not because she is persecuted, but because she persecutes.

It's not a question of demonising Nayuta, but of not presenting her as a cute, nice girl. I don't understand how some people think that the antagonist of part 1 could have been magically diluted by the power of love. Nayuta is no longer a tool, but she's still a demon exerting a form of control over Denji in his isolation.

Nayuta isn't Machiavellian and she thinks that by preventing Denji from seeing Asa, for example, she's protecting him. What's more, Denji deliberately isolates himself and thinks that Nayuta is the only one who will accept him. While he was psyching himself out over his wet dog smell after Asa's rejection, Nayuta, who claims to love the smell, only confirms this point of view.

Once again, the control demon's objective is always the pursuit of happiness for both of them, just as it was for Makima with Pochita or Nayuta with Denji. The control demon's obsession with Chainsaw Man is what marks the continuity between Makima and Nayuta.

Nayuta's character may not be fundamentally different from Makima's, she's just marked by a more infantile control that's more demonstrative and noisy than adult control, which is colder and more insidious.

That's why I'm changing the premise, I think Nayuta is still Makima, but she's simply changed environment.

When Barem pretends he's heard Chainsaw Man, I don't think it's as absurd as it sounds, he's the one who's most piercing about Denji in each of his interactions, he's insisting on something that Denji isn't admitting to himself.

Whether it's his desire to become Chainsaw Man again in spite of Nayuta, or the fact that Denji also likes to have fans by presenting himself as one, I think that without saying that Denji wants his little sister dead, he thinks she's a witch...

Witch and not demon, Nayuta is not the threat of an enemy, of a demon that CSM should eliminate, but she is not a human little sister, she is dangerous in her need to control her brother.

I adore Nayuta, so I don't want people to think that I hold her responsible for everything, but I see a kind of taboo in the way some fans refuse to see her as anything other than the idyllic little sister

CSM is grey, each positive facet will have a negative facet. Denji's relationship with his little sister is full of contradictory desires that also need to be pointed out.

I think this chapter just points out the taboos, for example by calling Denji a CSM wannabe, I think that's a part of the character that's often overlooked.

CSM is part of Denji's identity, but it's as much a role he's taken on as a mask he hides behind.

To avoid facing up to his own existential difficulties, Denji hides behind Chainsaw Man, convinced that the only way to love him is to discover that he is Chainsaw Man, as if it wasn't possible to simply love the boy.

Just as the only time Denji expressly confesses his feelings is when he's Chainsaw Man. Denji has never spoken of his grief as a human again, just as he has never come to terms with his dream of having sex.

Chainsaw Man is the semblance of confidence that allows Denji to be himself. Didn't you notice how silent and passive he was as a human in the last arc?

Fujimoto questioned one thing throughout part 2: what is Chainsaw Man? Is he the hero that a whole generation of people are fans of, Yoru's enemy, Pochita, that impostor, Denji's identity or... isn't he more all those moments when Denji is himself?

Yoshida had wondered whether CSM would eat the demon of death, and Denji's answer to that question is to go and help Asa without a mask, just by encouraging her. Having just identified the great king of terror as the demon of death, the way to eradicate him also lies in Denji finding solutions not just in Chainsaw Man but in himself and in relying on others. Denji must come to terms with who he is and his isolation.

By setting up a protagonist who, like the former protagonist, experiences repeated bereavements, Fujimoto questions the outcome of grief. Hiding behind Chainsaw Man, isolating himself with Nayuta, is a form of withdrawal. The demon of death is already present in the way Asa and Denji tend to cope with the death of their loved ones.

The door symbol for Denji, the cat for Asa.

That's why this work is a first break. The only way to eradicate these fake Chainsaw Man is through cremation, as this prevents them from using their blood to live again. This explains the immortality of the weapons, following the same logic: human blood constantly feeds a demonic heart capable of regenerating itself.

Denji's first response is to burn. Whether it's to emancipate himself from Chainsaw Man, by burning as a simple wannabe of himself, because Denji fantasises about an identity of which he is not the only possessor.

But cremation is just as much a response as escaping the witches - the isolation imposed by the demon of control - but cremation is also a stage in mourning.

When we see the coffin of a loved one being lowered into the crematorium, it's an unheard-of act of violence, but it also symbolises the fact that there's no turning back, that it's a violent impetus to move forward.

The person who has all the answers to all these facets of grief is none other than Power. Denji must also reclaim his identity as a co-contractor with the blood demon, just as he must reconnect with the painful memory to make the demon his "Buddy" again, but above all, Denji has two little sisters, so he mustn't isolate himself with just one. Blood is the key to regeneration, and she is the key to moving forward.

Fujimoto showed in the last arc how "Chainsaw Man" wasn't a satisfactory answer for his protagonist, so now he's setting fire to what has been established as a bad lead.

Fujimoto burns down all the taboos, all the biases we had about the characters but also the ones they have about themselves.

If Chainsaw Man is to continue as a work of art, the title must be crossed out.

The question is, what will replace it?

#chainsaw man #csm part 2 #csm #csm spoilers #csm 147 #chainsaw man 147 #quanxi #yoshida #denji #nayuta #makima #power #asa #asa mitaka #barem

224 notes · View notes

frostedfaves · 9 months

Text

I Know Best

Masterlist

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader

Summary: You decide to misbehave at the same time Wanda's home is threatened and she's pissed about it. (rewrite of WandaVision, episode 5)

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, mean mommy Wanda (but soft later), dom/sub dynamics, smut: punishment by overstimulation (and crying as a result), wanda uses her powers for evil 🤭, fingering

A/N: so not following the decades thing entirely because Wanda looks the same as she did in present day but she does change into her Scarlet Witch fit when she feels threatened 👀 anyway enjoy!

It wasn’t often that you went against Wanda’s rules.

You very well knew the consequences of doing so, and truthfully you’d gotten so used to her loving guidance and control of things that you wouldn’t dare go back. That control extended to how and when you touched yourself, which happened to be the very rule you’re breaking now.

You were watching a movie on Netflix that wasn’t in English, but you weren’t paying much attention to the subtitles anyway when the two women appeared on screen, hands all over each other. It reminded you of many passion filled nights with your love, and it was that reminder that caused your mind (and hands) to wander.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

The voice comes from behind the couch where you currently have your fingers tucked in your underwear beneath a blanket. Without giving you a chance to answer, the blanket is lifted and your hand is ripped away from your body entirely with your wrist in Wanda’s unrelenting grip.

“I left you alone for an hour. If you need something, you ask me,” she practically growls in your ear, chuckling when she notices you’re shaking. “Oh darling, don’t get scared now. You know better and I know best.”

Before she can say anything else, you both hear what sounds like a plane coming in from outside, which instantly makes her stand up fully and rush to the door. She warns you to stay inside and magically locks the door behind herself as she exits. You rush to the peephole just in time to catch her taking down a drone, grabbing it from the ground and flying off toward the edge of town.

“Is this yours?” Wanda challenged as she tossed the drone toward Hayward, nearly taking him down in the process.

“The missile was just a precaution. You can hardly blame us, Wanda.”

“Oh I think I can,” she replies, a crimson color building in the center of her eyes. “This will be your only warning. Stay out of my home. You don’t bother me, and I don’t bother you.”

“I wish it could be that simple. You’ve taken an entire town hostage.”

Wanda decides to humor the agents by going back and forth with them despite being pissed beyond belief that she was interrupted, even allowing Monica to talk about being an ally before turning them all against each other and making her escape. Despite making her way back into town, her protective attire doesn’t change back to the comfy cleaning clothes she left in. It sticks to her like the anger from any kind of intrusion to her new home and your sudden disobedience all in the same minute.

“Wanda, what was that?” you immediately question when she opens the door, standing up and immediately feeling the urge to sit down again when you make eye contact. “Mommy?”

Wanda doesn’t answer you as she approaches but instead starts ripping your clothing from your body, waiting until you’re fully exposed to push you back down onto the couch. She forces your legs open as wide as they can go, not even smiling this time when she notices your shaking underneath her.

“You want to cum so bad that you couldn’t wait to ask? Fine. Let’s make you cum, slut.”

She delivers a loud slap to your exposed pussy that draws an embarrassed whimper from you, even more so when you realize just how turned on this encounter has made you despite everything. You know she’s well aware of this when she suddenly plunges two fingers inside of you quite easily, but you don’t expect the red mist surrounding her hand and the strong vibration that follows.

“What’s the matter?” Wanda questions with false sympathy as she watches you toss your head back against the couch. “Can’t take Mommy’s fingers suddenly?”

“I can t-take it,” you mumble between gasps and moans.

“Say that again?”

“I said–ah!”

You cry out again as she firmly places her free hand over your clit, more red mist and vibration now surrounding the entire area. You’re bucking your hips and clenching muscles, having barely enough time to even ask to cum this time before you reach your peak. You expect her to stop then, but she keeps everything going without letting up even as you try to squirm away from her.

“No, don’t fucking fight it now. You wanted this.”

She uses her elbows to force your legs back open as they threaten to box her in, and it seems that she only strengthens the vibration each time your body jerks away until you finally give up and take it all.

“Mommy please,” you beg however many orgasms later, coughing hard suddenly while tears continuously stream from the corner of your eyes and down past your ears.

“Had enough?” Wanda questions unnecessarily while subtly lowering the strength of the vibration, taking a bit of pity on you despite the way she enjoys your clenching walls around her fingers.

“Mm.”

“Use your words!” she threatens while bringing the vibration up and you let out a surprised squeak.

“Yes, Mommy! I’ve had enough!”

“Good girl.”

The vibration declines steadily as the red mist fades, but the aftershocks are very much present even as Wanda calmly pulls out of you. Her fingers slide into your mouth and you clean them with as little effort as possible, not even flinching when she pulls you further onto the damp spot underneath you on the couch.

“What will you do next time you want to touch?”

“Ask Mommy,” you reply drowsily, feeling pleased when she places a hand on either side of your jaw and kisses your forehead. “Thank you, Mommy.”

“You’re welcome, angel. Come on, you know what we have to do.”

Wanda rises to her feet first and attempts to bring you up with her, although it takes much more effort than either of you expected. Soft laughter is passed between you until you finally complete the task, and she leads you over to the downstairs bathroom before carefully lowering you onto the toilet. When you open your eyes again, she’s in front of you with a cup of water, gently coaxing you to drink.

Once you’re cleaned up, tucked into bed with your favorite sleep show playing quietly and passed out, Wanda makes her way back to the living room. She cleans up the couch and straightens a few more things before locking up her home and heading over to her closest neighbor.

“Hello again, Agnes,” Wanda greets her glassy-eyed companion with a knowing smile. “I’m going to need your help with something.”

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x fem! reader #frosty's smut #avengers smut #marvel smut

380 notes · View notes

pacific-rimbaud · 1 month

Note

i was reading your thoughts on how fans felt about l&oha and while i concur it is a perfect piece of work in my head and have reread it 5x, i wonder if you think fans tend to be harsher/more critical of hermione and let draco slide? i see it a lot in fics where he's more of an alphahole type

Oh, man. Okay. The can is open, the worms are loose. Rant under the cut.

I'm actually going to set men aside entirely. Just. To the side with you. I desperately need more realistically complicated men, too, but that's a whole separate discussion. Right now: women.

There must be whole dissertations out there on the phenomenon of readers hating female characters with negative traits. I'm a fandom old, so I didn't grow up identifying with Hermione, and wouldn't have even if I'd been young enough to. I did that "which character are you" test just now and my top three matches were Janis Ian from Mean Girls, Jughead from Riverdale and April from Parks and Rec, which, massive grain of salt, etc. BUT gives you an idea. I am not a Hermione and never was, so she's never been a comfort character or self-insert for me. Some of my favorite fictional women are Sophie Hatter (mean, irrational, petty, old and mostly loving it), Harrowhark Nonagesimus (evil stick), Phryne Fisher (zero fucks to give). What I like about Hermione is how imperfect she is. I'm a "cleverest witch of your age I've ever met" truther (book!Lupin is absolutely saying "you're the canniest 14 year-old child I have personally met, saying this as a guy who doesn't get out much," not "you are a once-in-a-century genius"), and from my perspective, she's often wrong and often a dick, and not in a fun and fiesty burn-down-the-world BAMF way. Which. Good for her! Be human.

And that's the thing. I personally don't want Hermione to be perfect, I want her to be what I think she is, textually, which is intelligent, hardworking, loyal, competitive, compassionate, controlling, belittling, rude, petty, insecure, vindictive, volatile. She has the right to be that way, because she's human. The desire for perfected women (or unapologetically and unstoppably awful ones, another brand of female power fantasy) is not limited to Dramione fandom. I think it's amplified in DHr by many readers who DO identify as former gifted children, books-as-coping-mechanism kids and Strong Female Personalities who felt marginalized in childhood and want to see Hermione have it all: she's slim, she's tiny, she's fragile as a bird, she'll break your neck, she'll step on your throat, she'll tear down the system, she'll heal all wounds, she does not need help, she holds all the knowledge, she holds all the cards, she is forever wronged, she can do no wrong, her vagina is tight, her nipples are hard, her hair is on point, her waist is tiny, her tits are bouncing, her ass is in the style of Now. And like. This isn't at all unique to DHr and Hermione. It's pervasive in fiction written by and for women. Female power fantasies are obviously feeding a massive hunger. It's just not what I personally want. Personally, I find it alienating and uncomfortable, which I know equates to, "That is wrong and shouldn't exist" to a lot of people, but that's its own tale as old as time.

There's a disconnect that happens too often where a reader wants one (1) thing from their fiction, and receives something else, even when the contents are clearly labeled on the tin. In this case, wanting a female power fantasy and encountering a woman who's written with flaws makes people upset. And maybe if we could be more honest with ourselves about what we're looking for when we read, work to accept that not everyone wants the same experience, and learn to close a book when it's not working for us and say, "No shade, this isn't for me," it would be less upsetting when we encounter a character who isn't written to meet our personal expectations. I will open a book, realize the FMC is a female power fantasy archetype and close it, because that's not what I show up for. I like my women gritty and weird and foolish and vulnerable and liable to hurt people and feel terrible about it. Give me all the exhausting chatterers and evil sticks and jocks with swords and their hearts on their sleeves (their hearts ripped out), give me shy Anne Elliot and her suitcase full of regrets and the ugly fuckup who never has a glow up, give me dirtbag stoners and Fleabag and Alicent Hightower apologetics and every role Natasha Lyon has ever played. It's not a moral high ground, it's about a preference for seeing actual, demeritus flaws on the page and on the screen. Blame that woman. It's her fault. She has so many faults. Then show me how to forgive her so I can figure out how to forgive myself.

The thing is, I love women. I love women so fucking much. I want to be around them, to get to know them, to read about them, to watch them on TV and see them in films. And personally, I like them ugly. Physically. Spiritually. Morally. Give a woman a Bad Personality and watch her succeed in the most self-injurious way possible, fuck you. Give her a gaping chest wound and line it with teeth. Stick a piece of grit in that girl's tightly sealed shell so that a pearl is her only option. Make her love other women, make her fuck it up, make her have to earn them back.

Thankfully I do feel like we're getting more ugly women in fiction, especially BIPOC, queer and marginalized women who deserve gross, weird, nasty representation and not just didactic moralism, patronization and misguided sainthood. Some readers won't want that, and that's fine. Again, personally (it's all so personal, please, please remember that when you hit that comment button), I'm here for it. If you write about women like this, know that you have a thirsty reader here. I'm swallowing them up. I'm smacking my lips. I'm smashing my mug on the cafeteria floor and calling for another.

#you asked I answered #rant #long post

78 notes · View notes

the-witch-of-one-piece · 2 years

Text

霊圧 + 淫慾. //spiritual pressure + lust. ( @sashi-ya x twoop)

Kenpachi Zaraki, Byakuya Kuchiki and Jushiro Ukitake x F! Reader: Creampie N/SFW part 3 Created by: The-witch-of-one-piece/WC:1000+/Masterlist/Collab w/ @sashi-ya💜

TW: Creampire, Vaginal penetration, moaning, rough sex, sex in a body of water, dirty talk, sweet and slow, making out, breast sucking, handle like a ragdoll.

Kenpachi

“All that squirming you are doing, are you trying to make me cum?” Kenpachi harshly grunting. Your ass was in the air. Kenpachi was crouching on top of the bed, his large body hovering over yours. His thrust was strong just like him. His arms were crisscrossed on your back and one of your arms was pinned in the criss-cross force. You couldn’t remove your arm whatsoever, finally feeling one of his hands pushing down on your head.

“Fuck~~~” whimpering as he ruthlessly plunged himself into you. Your free hand was clenching the ruffled up sheets so tight your knuckles were turning white. “ Fuck yess just like that Kenn~~~! .” you whined one single tear coming down from your eyes.

“Who would have guessed someone so sweet would love to be fucked like a slut.” The evil smile on his face appeared. “I guess the good girls are always the ones with hidden desires.” the more he was thinking about it the more he felt the urge to slam into you hard. He didn’t care who could hear you if they had a problem they could see him. The sounds of the crying and whimper of his name fueled him but also was closer to his peak. “Are you ready for my cum? You better because if I see you leak it out I’m fucking you all over again.”

“I promise Captain please fill me with your thick hot semen~~” you cried out the hair was sticking onto your face. Hearing Kenpachi’s loud moan you felt the instant oozing thick hot semen of his as he still was thrusting inside of you.

The more he was thrust he could see the semen coming out, he did it on purpose “Well you couldn’t even do one simple thing I guess we ain’t done here yet .”

Byakuya

He held you by your thighs as your back was pressed against the smoother rock of the private bathhouse. The sound of the water splashing with every thrust as his cock was driving into your pussy. While he was away from you all he could think about was how to touch you and couldn’t wait till he got back home. His lips began to suck on your breast while your fingers were clawing on his perfect porcelain back. As he unlatched from your breast he spoke “Did you miss me _____?” he spoke in a whispering tone. “I missed you so much Byakuya.” panting as your eyes look into his, it did tear you apart when he would be gone for some time but when he arrived home he wanted your complete attention. Drawing his lips closer to yours. Even though being in the water he could feel how slippery and hot you were as he was thrusting inside of you.

Bringing one of his hands up he placed it against your cheek he leaned him as his soft lips pressed against yours. Both of your tongues were dancing with one another. You drew his body closer to yours, his chest pressing onto your chest, your legs wrapped around his small waist. Small breaths were escaping both of you as you didn’t want to detach from one another until he spoke. “I’m sorry if I ever made you worry about me while I was away.” he was letting out a shallow breath as he was trying to have the words come out but it was very hard for them as he could feel your pussy becoming more constricted. “I promise to come back to you… always.” “Byakuya~~” you softly panting before his lips attached to yours once more. The thrust that was steady became sloppy as he began to pump inside your tight pussy. The moans were escaping between the kisses. Byakuya felt his climax coming in more intense, breaking away from the kiss he wanted to lock eyes with. He loved to see the expression of your own orgasm with the pleasure of his cum filling inside of you. The lewd glassy eyes expression on your face locked with his. The warmer sensation of his cum being shot inside of your pussy. When he saw your orgasm start to descend he closed his eyes for a moment, his forehead resting on your shoulder catching his breath from his own high.

Jushiro

Giving you soft kisses, his delicate fingers brushing the strands of hair out of your face. The Captain of the 13 barracks was such a gentleman and never wanted to hurt you in any way. The hues of pink hitting his cheeks that match your own cheeks. He was on one of his better health days but still, you wanted to make sure he was okay.

“Jushi, are you okay?” You were panting softly making sure he wasn’t feeling feverish from the workout he was doing.

Seeing the corner of his lip curl up “I’m fine my love don't have to worry about me now.” He appreciates your concern for his own health. Jushiro fingers slid down your arm as he began to lock his fingers with yours. His pumping was in a steady pace you could feel his pelvis press against your clit every time he thrust in and out of you. To experience this kind of passion in his life and to have met someone like you truly was a blessing in his life. “You are very special to me _____.” The softened expression of the long white-haired man speaking to you made your heart flutter. “Jushiro~”

With the mention of his name his breath became quivering as both continued the sweet pillow talk. Jushiro's face became a bit hotter with sweat drops forming his breathing becoming more unsteady “_____, I’m gonna cum~~” as he spoke his final thrust made him stiffen inside your cunt. His arms became weak as he was still holding himself up and not crashing into you. You could see he was drained. “Lay on my Jushi.” speaking to the captains wasn't going to deny the offer. Bringing himself slowly he laid his head against your chest. He could heart beat become slower after your guy's climax.

Tagging: @stygianoir @tealcat001 @dumbbitch223 @bookandyarndragon @ilibili @jin-supremacy01

1K notes · View notes

munsons-maiden · 2 years

Text

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝𝐬 𝐀𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞

This series will be updated every weekend. If you’d like to be added to my Eddie taglist, let me know. I hope you enjoy the first chapter! - Love, Kiki ❤

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | Eddie Munson x female reader

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | THEN. You’re the only survivor among the Mind Flayer’s victims, thanks to your friends - but after the Battle of Starcourt, you find yourself adrift in a sea of nightmares. Until an encounter in the woods with Eddie The Freak Munson offers an unexpected life line and turns your world upside down. NOW. Four months have passed since the winter night you walked out of Eddie’s trailer and his life for good. But when the mysterious headaches and nightmares return full-force and something wicked stirs in sleepy Hawkins, starting a witch hunt against Eddie, you realize that there are two things in this world that might be more persistent than you’d thought: Evil...and love. The story will be told in two timelines: the past (after the Battle of Starcourt) and the present (during the events of season 4).

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 | angst with a happy ending, fluff, smut

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | SMUT (in the later chapters, so you need to be 18+ to read this story!), angst with a happy ending, harassment, canon-typical violence

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 5.4 k

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | attempted sexual assault but Eddie saves the day, Jason Carver, canon-typical violence (Those are the chapter warnings. There will be lots of smut in the later chapters so please only read this if you’re 18+ years old!)

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭.

𝐀𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝! ♡

[Friday, March 22nd, 1986. NOW.]

It had already been there when you’d woken that morning, that strange, nagging feeling in your gut, like a silent shadow in the corner of the room. Dread. A sense of something being…wrong.

The feeling in your guts had started to grow when Robin had climbed into the passenger seat, and by the time you’d reached Forest Hills to pick up Max, it had spawned into a dark, sinking premonition.

“Holy shit, what the Hell’s happening here?”, Robin gawked at the sight unfurling in front of you when you steered the car to the side of the road, yellow police tape fluttering in the spring-breeze.

“Do you think something happened to Max?”, your friend gasped.

The trailer park was abuzz with police.

In the flashing red-and-blue lights of the police cars painting eerie patterns on the walls of the nearby trailers in the blushing light of dawn, cops whirred around the place like a swarm of flies over a rotten carcass.

And the dark premonition morphed into panic.

“No,” you breathed. “Not to Max.”

You didn’t hesitate a single second, didn’t wait for the officer walking up the gravelly road to reach your car

With Robin’s surprised call piercing the early-morning-air behind you, you burst out the door and broke into a run, ignoring the warning shouts of the officer right on your heels as your feet carried you across the crunching gravel, the haze of panic buzzing like static in your mind, turning your surroundings into white noise and blinking lights.

The gravel beneath your feet turned to dry patches of grass, and you reached the trailer, the crackling static of RT units and shouts filling the morning air around you, all blurring beneath the thundering of your heart, the rush of blood in your ears.

For a fleeting heartbeat, time seemed to freeze.

There was the door you’d walked out of for the last time on a freezing winter night three months ago, the blue paint chipped in places to form a familiar pattern that hit you like a punch in the guts.

The door was ajar to reveal the heap of fabric on the floor – and it took a moment for you to make sense of what you were seeing. To realize that strange shape sticking in the air like a zombie’s hand reaching out of its grave in a horror movie…was a hand. A real hand. But something was wrong, because the fingers were sticking out at the most grotesque angles, as if they’d been snapped like twigs, one by one.

It wasn’t a heap of fabric. It was a person.

Don’t let it be him.

“Miss, you can’t be here!” The voice was far away, blurry and dulled as if you were under water. Sinking deeper and deeper.

Don’t let it be him. Please, please, please don’t let it be him.

Hands grasped your shoulders, pulling you away from the trailer’s door.

But you’d already seen enough.

When they led you away, away from the horrid, disfigured hand stretching towards the ceiling and the dead body it belonged to, two things shattered the numbing daze of shock clouding your mind like stones hurled through a window.

Relief, because the broken body on the ground of the trailer…there had been no mess of unruly dark curls, no flash of tattoos, no ripped denim or worn-out leather.

And shame, because of the relief you felt even at the sight of the familiar scrunchie, a rich pine-needle green on strawberry blonde hair.

[Friday, September 6th, 1985. THEN.]

First came the headaches. They reverberated through your nerves as sharp as a knife’s edge, as if someone was working your head with a hammer drill, hard enough to bring tears to your eyes.

Then came the nosebleeds, sticky warm rivulets running from your nostrils to coat your tongue with the metallic tang that made nausea churn in your guts with the memories it elicited – of black, freezing shadows and screams, of fire and pain. So much pain.

It was one of these nosebleeds that had you burst out of the gym right now, away from the raging victory celebration going on inside and into the cool night air on the sports field.

And with the taste of blood coating your lips and running down your throat as you pressed one hand in front of your nose in a useless, half-hearted attempt to staunch the flow, came the panic.

It was a tingle at the tips of your fingers, racing along your nerves like a speeding train until it reached your chest, dark and cold and as sticky as the blood spilling from your nose. The panic, though, was harder to get rid of than the crimson stains on your clothes. So were the memories.

Memories you kept trying so hard to bury, of those thirty hours where control had been ripped away so thoroughly, so utterly, as the Mind Flayer had taken the wheel and forced you to watch, muted and frozen and locked away in your own head, a puppet dancing on its master’s string. And how the monster had made you dance.

Bile already rising in your throat, you broke into a run. You couldn’t run away from the demons in your memories, but you could run, do what the Mind Flayer had denied you. Moving would help battle that sticky dark thing that threatened to throttle you.

The sweat coating your skin from the past two hours of dancing and jumping and waving your pompons with that wide, frozen grin plastered to your face until your cheeks hurt, kept the bite of the cool night-air at bay for now as you raced across the freshly mowed grass of the sports-field and towards the line of trees, the small patch of woods separating Hawkins High from the white-picket-fence neighborhoods surrounding it.

The noise of the party in the gym was fading into the night with every step your feet carried you, and you let your hand sink back to your side. Blood still seeped from your right nostril, running over your lips before dribbling down onto the shirt of your cheerleader uniform. You made a mental note to buy a new pack of baking soda to scrub out the ugly stains before the game next week.

By the time you’d reached the tree line at the edge of the sports-field, your breathing was labored, your heart racing as if it was about to burst straight out of your ribcage – but the sensation of panic had started to subside, the weight on your chest beginning to ease with the first step you set into the darkness between the trees.

You’d just have to sit it out.

But here in the silence of the woods, with the already cooling night air that carried the scents of rot and decay and fading greens to herald the end of summer, breathing felt a lot easier than in the too hot, sweat-laced air inside the gym, the noise and shouts and laughter pressing in on you from all sides like a flood wave.

Your labored breaths mingling with the sounds of leaves rustling and twigs snapping beneath the soles of your sneakers with every step, you followed the small path cutting through the brambles, still so familiar despite the fact that you hadn’t set a foot into these woods in what felt like a lifetime. A minute passed, then two, until you reached the spot where you’d used to hang out with Nancy and Barb during lunch breaks, in the first year of High School.

Before Nancy had started dating Steve. Before Barb had gone missing and life had changed. Before you’d learned of faceless monsters, of evil shadows and girls with superpowers.

The picknick table was still there, in the middle of the small clearing. A soft smile tugged at your lips as you stepped closer, letting your hand skim over the weathered surface of the wooden tabletop, searching for something you knew would be here somewhere, and your smile widened as your fingertips brushed over the scratches in the rough wood, following the lines you’d carved into that table on a sunny day in late summer three years ago. A lifetime ago. You could see the edges and lines of the tiny letters, shadows beneath the pale light of the waning moon that hung low in the sky, its light obscured by the canopy of trees ahead.

Three sets of names, side by side. Barb Holland. Nancy Wheeler. And yours. You remembered that day clearly, because it had been one of the last lunchbreaks the three of you had spent at that table together.

Nancy had been giddy with happiness as she’d told Barb and you that Steve The Hair Harrington had asked her out on a date. You’d tried to be happy for her, had smiled even though you’d felt scared by the way things were inevitably going to change, that the three of you had started to grow up, entering this strange new world of High School that still felt like jumping face-first into a dark, dark lake without knowing what else would be in there. That time was…running out. It had, at least for Barb.

Later that afternoon, you’d put your name on the audition list to join the cheerleaders in a fit of need to do something to stop that feeling of getting left behind.

You all had tried to do what you could to make the best of High School. For Nancy, the means to the end of being popular enough not to be eaten in the shark tank that was Hawkins High had been Steve. Yours still was cheerleading.

God, how beautiful the time had been, when the scariest thing to happen was to not be invited to a party.

“Hey there,” a voice tore you from the past, and your head snapped up to the figure prowling towards you, stepping from the darkness between the trees.

“Jason,” you greeted, voice still a bit too high, laced with the residue of your earlier panic. You’d never liked Jason Carver. The guy gave you the heebie-jeebies.

“Saw you leave the party,” he explained, in that tone that demanded attention, that left no doubt that he was an alpha gifting the world with his presence. “Your nose is bleeding.”

“Yeah.”

Just go away and leave me be, you thought.

But he didn’t go away. Instead, he continued to step closer. To prowl closer, like a beast of prey rounding in on its dinner.

You couldn’t tell if the sense of danger that made your muscles tense was a warranted one, or simply an overreaction of the paranoia one got if they’d been chased by interdimensional monsters for the past three years.

“Won’t Chrissy miss you?”, you tried again, never leaving Jason out of your sight. You’d never understood how sweet, gentle Chrissy was so smitten with him. But then again, you didn’t know any of them that well apart from the basketball games and cheerleader training.

When Jason came to stand in front of you, a feeling of unease growing in your guts, he shrugged. “Maybe. But I’m here now.” He reached out, giving the silky green ribbon that held your hair in a high ponytail a flick that made you flinch away from him.

“Aw, don’t be shy,” he grinned. There was something dark in that grin, glinting and sharp like the edge of a razor blade, hidden beneath the superficial charm.

In a swift motion, he reached out again, tugging at the fabric to undo the ribbon, and your hair spilled from the ponytail. You watched the green piece of silk flutter to the dried leaves covering the ground, like a lonely streamer at the end of a party.

“I always thought you looked prettier with your hair down.”

It’s not my job to look pretty for you, you wanted to snap. I don’t care if you think I’m pretty.

Fuck off.

But none of the words actually left your lips. Your tongue had turned to lead, your whole body freezing like a deer in the headlights.

Only then did you realize the gravity of your current situation.

You were alone in the woods with that guy. Too far away to be heard if you screamed for help.

“I think I’ll head back to the party,” you said, pushing yourself away from the edge of the table to leave – but Jason’s hand shot out, wrapping around your upper arm with enough vigor to make the feeling of unease blaze into alarm.

“Come on, don’t be a bore. Keep me company. I won’t bite,” he smiled. His tone was even, calm – but the edge underneath made clear it had been a command, not a plea. You’d always found it unsettling, how Jason’s wide Hollywood-smiles never quite managed to reach his eyes.

After Barb had gone missing three years ago, the school had paid for an optional self-defense class for the female students. You’d gone because you’d been naïve enough to think three hours of info-dumping and a few basic karate-moves on a Sunday afternoon would help prepare you to fight monsters. Back then, you’d learned to never scream at the perpetrator, never get loud or rude. To stay friendly as not to hurt their sense of pride.

So that’s what you did now. Not yet trying to squirm out of Jason’s grip, you held his gaze and replied steadily, “I’m freezing, Jason. I want to go back inside before I catch a cold.”

“Well, good thing I’m here then. I can keep you warm.” He gave you a wink that made the alarm blow up into fear.

“My jacket will do just fine.”

“Come on, you know that’s not what I meant,” he chuckled, as if you’d made a joke.

“I’m aware what you meant. I’m not interested.” Your voice rose – but to what avail? You were alone with him. In the woods, in the middle of the night.

“Aw, come on. Don’t play little Miss Innocent in that outfit. If you didn’t want attention, you would’ve picked a skirt that didn’t reveal half your ass.”

The words felt like a slap.

“Let go of me, Jason.” You hated how your voice sounded. Small and frightened and weak.

“You wanted to be popular. How’s that saying go? If you want to fuck with the eagles, you gotta learn how to fly. You learned to fly.”

The implication was clear.

Before you could come up with a reply, Jason’s grip around your arm tightened, and your pained little wince fused into a fledgling cry as he pulled you closer, whirling you around until your lower back hit the edge of the picknick table. Pain shot up your spine with the impact as he used his body to pin you in place.

“No! STOP!”, you screamed as loud as your lungs would allow for in the fleeting hope to draw in help, struggling against him like a helpless little mouse in a trap. Your cry for help was cut off when Jason smashed his lips against yours.

Somehow, that was worse than all the monster-shit you’d gone through.

With all your strength, you slammed your hands against his chest to push him off of you – but it was hopeless. He was so much stronger than you.

Tears stung in your eyes at the nauseating taste of your own blood still on your lips mingling with the stale beer on Jason’s breath as he forced his tongue into your mouth, his knee between your legs to part them as he pressed you harder against the picknick table, hard enough for an outcry of pain to rip from your throat that got lost in the kiss he was forcing on you.

“I’ll make you feel so good,” Jason crooned against your lips, his breath too hot as it hit your face, “You’ll see. Thank me later.”

His words flipped a switch deep inside of you.

This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t. You hadn’t survived the Mind Flayer’s grasp only for Jason Carver to force himself on you, for your control to be ripped away again like a ball in a fucking sports game.

Paralyzing panic turned to blazing fury.

When Jason’s lips pressed against your mouth again, you bit down. Hard.

Blood welled from Jason’s lip, and you felt like you’d throw up with the taste of it as Jason reeled back a few inches with a suppressed growl of anger and pain. A mistake, you realized. Before you’d bitten him, Jason had been calm, feeling save in the entitlement that whatever he wanted, the world and everyone within it were obliged to give it to him.

But now, there was rage in his eyes, flashing like lightning as his grip around your upper arms tightened when he shoved you harder against the picknick table, the wood digging into your lower back so painfully that you felt the air was pressed from your lungs as Jason hissed, “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“NO!”, you screamed as Jason’s hands wandered down to grope your rear, caging you against that damn table –

“Hey! Get away from her!”, a shout pierced the night – as with a new rush of sizzling, white-hot rage, your fist connected with Jason’s face. Hard enough for pain to bolt through your own hand.

Jason reeled back with a suppressed shout of pain, one of his hands shooting up to cover his left eye with his expression contorting in a mix of shock, pain and icy anger – before he was ripped away from you.

“She said no. Are you deaf? Take your fucking hands off, asshole.”

To your surprise, Jason complied. Still seething, he took another step away from you as he turned to fully face the figure in the half-dark, finally clearing your own line of sight in the process.

There, in the middle of the clearing with fire in his eyes and a halo of messy curls around his face, stood Eddie Munson – Eddie The Freak – resident High School weirdo and leader of the school’s D&D club, his breathing labored as if he’d been running.

“What’s it to you, freak?”, Jason sneered, voice muffled as he let his hand sink from his eye to reveal the bruise already starting to form there, “What are you gonna do, huh?”

“Fuck around and find out.” Eddie’s gaze briefly flicked to you, before it came to rest back on Jason with the fury of a wildfire as he added sardonically, “The Hellfire Club’s still looking for a victim for our next satanic ritualistic sacrifice tomorrow evening.”

You waited for Jason to snap, to punch Eddie – but to your shellshocked surprise and relief, he seethed, “You know what, freak? You can have her. She’s not that hot.”

Glaring daggers first at you and then at Eddie, who was standing stock-still in the center of the clearing as he watched Jason’s hand brush over his bleeding lip, Jason walked away, leaving you and Eddie alone in the patch of moonlight that was falling through the foliage above.

“Hey,” Eddie’s voice cut through the haze of shock in your mind, softened as he slowly stepped a little closer, “You okay?”

You snapped your eyes away from the spot where Jason had vanished into the night and met Eddie’s concerned gaze, parting your lips to reply that, yes, you were okay, as the mixture of shock and adrenaline, the sickening metallic tang of your own blood and Jason’s on your lips and the revolting remnants of his rancid taste in your mouth crescendoed to a wave of nausea that crashed over you like a rip curl.

You fell to your knees and retched.

Right over Eddie Munson’s sneakers.

To your surprise, though, he didn’t jump back with repulse.

As a new wave of dizziness washed over you and you hurled up the rest of your dinner, eyes stinging with the acidic taste of bile burning your throat, Eddie soothed, “It’s okay. Uh. Let it out, I guess. Let me just – is it okay if I hold your hair?”

You gave him a weak little nod.

With your permission, Eddie stepped closer, and with a movement that was strangely gentle, his fingers carded through your hair, pulling the strands away from your face to hold them at the back of your head as you continued to hurl up your guts.

You didn’t know how long you stayed like that. It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, but it felt like hours.

When the nausea finally ebbed, you let yourself fall back to sit on your heels, waiting for the spinning sensation of sickness and the throb of the oncoming headache to subside, the gentle tug of Eddie’s hands holding your hair vanishing as he let go and took a slow step backwards.

“Thanks,” you breathed softly.

“For what?”, Eddie asked, somewhat bewildered.

You waved vaguely at the remnants of your lunch decorating the dried leaves on the ground before you croaked, “I bet your evening took a really unexpected turn.”

You couldn’t see Eddie’s face beyond the darkness of your closed lids as you waited for the dizziness to wane so you could get up from the floor, but your heard him chuckle; a small, low sound that filled the night and took away some of the edge of what had just happened.

You pushed yourself back up on shaky legs, acutely aware of Eddie taking another deliberate step backwards and away from you as if he were afraid to startle you.

I fought monsters before, you wanted to tell him. I just wasn’t prepared for this one.

Eddie’s dark eyes finally met yours in a beat of awkward silence that settled over the clearing, broken only by the rustling of leaves in the cool breeze that carried the scents of fading summer; of greens and the woods and the flowers growing somewhere in a distant garden at the edge of the trees.

A single beam of moonlight was falling through the canopy of leaves above your heads, painting streaks of silver into the mane of dark curls falling around Eddie’s face, and he raised his eyebrows as if waiting for you to break the silence, hands raised at his sides as if he wanted to say, I’m not gonna hurt you.

“You’re – you’re not gonna faint on me, are you? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure I’d be a miserable first aider.”

“After throwing up all over your shoes, I’d like to save the opportunity to tick off this box in my game of Embarrassment Bingo for another time,” you reassured, but it came out as a weak croak, your throat hoarse with the acidic remnants of bile.

Fainting would at least spare you some of the humiliation that was coiling in your stomach – why exactly, you couldn’t even tell. Maybe because you’d thrown up all over his shoes. Maybe because he’d caught…well, he didn’t catch you and Jason. He’d caught Jason harassing you. You obviously knew that you’d done nothing wrong – it just didn’t feel like it.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” Eddie said, vehemently – and the sudden sternness in his voice took you off guard as he added, “You sure you’re okay?”

You met his concern with a timid little smile of your own. “I’m fine. Really.”

“Uh-huh. Your nose is bleeding.” He gave a small, awkward nod in the direction of your nose.

“Yup,” you said, looking down at the shirt of your cheerleader uniform, the fabric smeared with stains of drying blood and splatters of vomit, “That shirt goes right in the laundry.”

That made him utter a surprised little laugh. A brief laugh, fleeting, but…you liked the sound of it, the way it lit up his whole face and made his dark eyes twinkle in the half-light of the moon as he threw you a cautious smile, probably trying to assess why you hadn’t already taken to your heels.

And realization started to sink in about what had just happened. What might have happened, hadn’t Eddie interrupted Jason.

You didn’t want to think about it.

But the alarm bells were still ringing in your mind, your senses still reeling with the high of adrenaline as you realized that you were still alone in the woods with a guy you didn’t actually know anything about other than the fact that Dustin and Mike worshiped the ground he was walking on, and that he was the resident School Freak. And while you only laughed about the petty-minded gossip about Eddie’s Hellfire Club being a satanist cult, the rumors about him dabbling in drug dealing, on the other hand, had to be rooted somewhere. You’d always found Eddie Munson somewhat menacing, with his ripped-denim-and-leather looks, the way he always seemed a little…unhinged.

And yet, the step you took backwards was automatic, guided more by your still activated flight-reflex than anything else – but the change of expression on Eddie’s face was immediate.

“I’m not gonna murder you,” he said, “Promise.” He drew out the last word.

“That sounds like a thing a murderer would say,” you deadpanned, but there was no bite in your tone. It managed to break the ice that had frozen the air between the two of you all of a sudden.

“If I wanted to stab you, I would’ve done it when you were busy puking all over my shoes,” Eddie grinned. It wasn’t a menacing grin. It was rather cute, in fact.

“Wait, what are you doing here, though?”, you blurted. “I mean, it is strange to be in the woods alone in the dark.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows. “Well, since I know that I’m not the obligatory serial killer in the woods in the middle of the night” – he took a dramatic little step backwards, hands over his heart like a granny clutching her pearls – “maybe it’s you.”

You didn’t know why you were suddenly enough at ease to joke around with a guy you’d never talked to before, alone in the woods in the dark and after everything that had happened with Jason only moments before – but you were. It might have simply been a fit of gallows humor, of hysteria after the surge of adrenaline and danger. For some reason, you were simply feeling perfectly safe with Eddie Munson.

Snickering, you gestured at your bloodied, puke-splattered cheerleader uniform as you quipped, “I can’t be the killer. Don’t you watch horror movies? The cheerleader’s always the first one to bite the dust.”

“Well, in case there’s any killers roaming around,” Eddie retorted, “I’ll stay close so you and your iron fist can protect me.”

You laughed. The sound was so…foreign to your own ears. It was, you realized, the first real, true, heartfelt laugh ever since Starcourt.

“So, you’re not going to tell me about the top-secret business that brought you here in the middle of the night?”, you teased.

“That would take away the whole dark, mysterious appearance I’ve been working on so hard,” he winked, twirling a strand of his hair around his ringed fingers with a mischievous gleam in his eyes, before he added, “A drug deal, actually. I’m here for a drug deal.”

“Oh. Okay.” It was strange to hear him actually say it. Drug dealers were supposed to be scary boogeymen.

“You should head home. Wait, you need a ride or something? I could, I don’t know, walk you back to the parking lot –“

“No worries. It’s not that far. I’ll be fine.” With a smile, you added, “Thanks, anyway. For…” You trailed off. “I can handle it from here.”

“Please, just…let me walk you back to the parking lot, okay?”, Eddie said, giving you another one of his smiles, “Because my sleep cycle is messed up as it is and I’ll spend the rest of the night worrying if I let you walk back alone.”

You snickered. “I don’t need a savior. Though…it’s nice to know there would have been one.”

“In case you didn’t notice, I’m not a savior, princess. I’m the guy from the wrong side of town that your parents told you to steer clear of.”

The nickname didn’t sound creepy or lewd or anything like the pet names Jason and his basketball friends liked to call the cheerleaders. It sounded like an inside joke between the two of you. It sounded innocent. He gave you a grin. A genuine one that seemed to light up the whole clearing with its radiance.

“What about your drug deal?”

“What are they gonna do, sue me?” Eddie quipped. “I’m the only dealer around. I’m basically the owner of a monopoly.”

“I bet that’d look really great on your resume,” you snickered in response, and Eddie laughed, before waving at you to walk ahead down the path.

For a few minutes, the two of you walked in companionable silence. When the thicket of branches thinned and the orange glow of the lanterns illuminating the parking lot at the other side of the sports field came into view, the noise of the victory celebration in the gym – still in full swing, obviously – seeped into the chill air to chase away the tranquility of the woods.

Across the sports field, you could see throngs of people crowding the parking lot, laughing, some of them waving little flags with the Hawkins High tiger emblem.

Stepping out of the woods and onto the buzzed grass of the sports field felt a little surreal, like resurfacing from a dive into another world.

Turning around, you realized that Eddie hadn’t followed you. He was standing between the trees a few feet behind you, his head tilted and the ghost of a smirk on his face as he waited for you to cross the sports field to the parking lot.

“Thank you,” you said, with a little half-smile of your own.

“I told you, I’m not some knight in shining armor.”

“Well, let’s agree on that”, you quipped. “You’re not a knight in shining armor, and I’m not a damsel in distress.”

“Of course not,” he agreed, with a mix of sternness and tease. “If I ever get into a fight, I’m gonna give you a call so you can come to my rescue and whip some asses.”

“Believe it or not, I’ve slain more monsters than you did,” you grinned, slowly starting to walk backwards, away from Eddie and the looming woods. For some reason you didn’t want to leave just yet. It might have been the veil of the night that made it easier to let down the guard people upheld in the light of day – or it might just have been Eddie Munson and his endearing weirdness.

“Well, in that case,” Eddie quipped, stretching his arms like a pair of wings before he bent down in a deep, theatrical bow, “Fare thee well, slayer of monsters.”

Another soft laugh bubbled from your lips.

You realized that Eddie had somehow taken the edge off the shock and diffused the panic in your chest without you even realizing it.

With his parting words hanging in the chill late-summer air that ruffled his messy curls, you finally turned around and walked towards the parking lot, the singing, laughing crowds with their green-and-orange flags and banners ahead of you, and Eddie’s watchful gaze on your back as he waited a few heartbeats longer. Making sure there was no figure in the shadows following you.

[Friday, March 22nd, 1986. NOW.]

“What’s wrong? What did you see?”, Robin exclaimed, sprinting down the gravel towards you, towards the spot at the edge of the Mayfield’s driveway where the cop had dragged you before returning back to the crime scene.

“I think something bad happened,” Max’s voice chimed up from beside you. In your panicked trance, you hadn’t even realized the redhead had stepped outside to join you watching the scene unfurling in front of you.

“Bad? How bad?”, Robin wanted to know. “Bad, in like –“

She cut herself off at the sight of the black body bag rolled out of the chipped blue front door of the Munson’s trailer on a stretcher.

“Deadly bad. Obviously.” That was Max’s voice, far away and low against the ringing noise in your ears.

“Holy fucking shit,” Robin breathed. “Is that, like, a body bag? A real one?”

The cheerleader is always the first one to bite the dust.

Something horrible had happened with Chrissy Cunningham.

But it wasn’t the memory of the glimpse of the green scrunchie that snapped you out of the daze of terror which threatened to sweep you away.

It was the memory of that smile, wide and radiant and familiar, of dark eyes twinkling as he twirled a strand of his messy curls around his ringed fingers.

“Where’s Eddie?”, you breathed.

↣ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠/𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐦𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭! 𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭, 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 ❤

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #stranger things eddie #stranger things 4 #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things x reader #joseph quinn #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst

3K notes · View notes

15-lizards · 8 months

Note

GENDER SWAP RENLY AND STANNIS OUTFITS PLEASSSS. And maybe Robert too

SISTERLY DYSFUNCTION WE LOVEEEEE even tho the character of Robert is kinda tricky bc his character is rooted in his manhood but fuck it we ball maybe we can just make Westeros a matriarchy #Feminism

Fem Roberta (definitely named Roberta) (also the middle Katie McGrath pic is the fc) is the kinda the biggest lesbian bait ever. Non-dutiful eldest daughter set to inherit storms end but she does NAWT give a shit she wants to go play around in the Vale with fem Ned and drink and whore etc etc. Rides and fights like a man and even wears men’s armor but still dresses and (sometimes) acts like a noble lady when the situation calls for it. She’s not a tomboy who chafes at nobility she’s a rowdy noble girl who LOVES her status she loves excess. Charismatic girl who managed to get men to follow her into war to get back Fem Ned’s little brother even though she loves him like a prize. And she loves the idea of being connected to Ned more than that. But other than her homoerotic obsession with her best friend and she is totally and completely heterosexual 👍🏻

Fem Stannis (Stana? Castana?) is kinda so Eva Green do we see the vision people. She’s a flop daughter who dresses like a utilitarian, very little room in her looks for comfort. Internalized misogyny for days bc she thinks if she were a son she could be so much better than her sister is. She’s kinda like if Cersei slayed a little less. When Roberta dies she can’t garner any support bc even though they were both women, her elder sister was always more persuasive and well liked, which is half the reason she became queen. So now she’s behind her bastard nephew and nieces who aren’t even related to her in the line of succession (let’s pretend masc Cersei and fem Jamie swapped the kids or smthn idk 😭). And her new red witch is not doing favors for the people who think magic = dark and womanly and evil. She’s such a flop and gay for the older pirate lady who saved her life and she can never do anything right ily girl

And Fem Renly/Rena/Renia is kinda the baddest bitch in the seven kingdoms. She’s even prettier than Roberta was at her age, and just as charismatic, and far more agreeable, acting more like a “proper” lady. Though she rides as well as her eldest sister, and even took up the sword too, wanting to be a warrior queen when she was little. Her fits always go crazy, a fourth of the treasury at storms end is set aside for her favorite green enameling and gold accessories. She’s kinda the star of court and thinks Roberta has gotten lazy and Stana has too much of a stick up her ass to be a good queen. Ofc in true Baratheon fashion she has a gay who worships her like a god, her trusted lady-knight Lora Tyrell, who gives her the support of her house before she unfortunately gets merked. Rip queen I wish you could’ve been mean on the internet

#asoiaf #lesbian Baratheons my beloved #Stannis was already a lesbian without gender bending him but that’s neither here nor there

131 notes · View notes

astrobydalia · 2 months

Text

About me…

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹

Hi, I’m Dalia! Nice to see you here💕

Age 20s

Im from Europe

Occupation collage student, copywriting intern, freelance teacher

MBTI infj 9w8

My chart (western) Virgo Sun, Pisces Moon, Sagittarius ASC, Air and Venus dominant, Pluto-asc conjunction // (Vedic) Purva phalguni sun, shatabhisha moon, jeyshtha asc

My astrology journey I’m self-taught in astrology and other occult studies since age 14. Have been doing personal readings for about 3 years now but I’ve taken a break to focus on college and life

I like… philosophy, writing, make up, fashion, peonies, languages, baking now and then, reading and investigating, occult (duh), music, tea, landscape paintings

Fun facts! I have 3 nationalities and have been traveling long distance since I was a baby // my fave place I've been to is Japan // I'm lactose intolerant // Despite being a procastinator I love to work, my main goal in life is to be in love with my job! // I have a very weird phobia of dogs. I think they're great, but idk why I get terrified when I have one near me // I am mixed-race // kinda dark but I was born clinically dead // I'm an ugly laugher, I've always said I laugh like an evil witch lmao it ain't cutesy

. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹ ⭒ – : ✧ : -˚̣⋅ .. ⋅ ˚̣- : ✧ : – ⭒ ⊹

That’s pretty much it! Thank you for sticking around with my content I appreciate it so much💕

#astrology #astro #astro observations #astro notes #zodiac #birth chart #astrobydalia

43 notes · View notes

luveline · 2 years

Note

do you wanna dance? + someone spiked the punch with steve harrington? maybe even tho r is very shy she is also secretly a witch and steve loves watching her perform spells bc he secretly loves how she’s a little insane and a little evil behind closed doors

join luveline's halloween party ♡

hi baby tysm for ur request!!! ♡ shy!witch!fem!reader

Steve wonders sometimes why you chose him of all people to reveal your secret to. He's a blabber mouth, for starters, though he can keep a secret if he needs to (he just keeps them sloppily). He's a skeptic, for seconds, or he had been.

Nowadays, it's hard to refute the evidence.

You've a plant in hand. He doesn't know the logistics, only that it smells sweet when you light it on fire.

"What does that one do?" he asks.

You bring the burning plant toward your chest. "This in particular or the spell?"

The word spell always makes him take pause. It had felt weird at first to compare what he has in his head and the reality of your rituals. Where he had come to expect a magic wand or a flying broom he finds only your charms and trinkets.

"The spell."

"It's gonna make Darcy Mulligan lose her car keys. Hopefully."

He can't help but laugh. You smile your shy, sweet smile that makes him want to kiss you stupid.

While the biggest rule you adhere to is to do no harm. Harm as in hurt. You find ways around this when people peeve you off, like making their lives difficult in small ways.

"You haven't don't anything like that to me, have you? I spent an hour looking for my keys two days ago. It was the worst."

You snuff out the burning plant and place it carefully in a cermaic dish. "No, Steve," you say as you stand, doing a little stretch that exposes a slip of your midriff that his him seeing stars, "I definitely haven't."

You sit down on the daybed beside him. "I actually tried to make it so your keys are always where you think they are, but it wouldn't stick. Think I needed more hemlock."

He beams.

"Really?" he asks.

"You lose them all the time. I thought it would make your life a little easier."

And that's it, he can't take it anymore. Steve leans in for a definitely not amicable hug, breathing in the smell of your hair as his hands tug you into his chest. "You're too good to me," he murmurs, practically purring as your hands slide around his back.

"Steve..." you murmur back, sounding flustered. "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing." It's incredibly sweet, even if it hadn't worked.

You deflect his praise. "You're just trying to stay on my good side."

"Absolutely I am. Don't wanna end up like poor Darcy Mulligan, do I? What did she even do?"

"She- She said your shirt looked dumb."

He blinks, and then he grins, arms tightening around you until your giggling in a funny kind of fear. "I love when you defend my honour."

#luveline's halloween party #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x witch!reader #witch!au

593 notes · View notes

nincompoopydoo · 1 day

Text

CAUGHT IN A CROSSFIRE

ALL THINGS MUST END — ; PART 10 / 10

PAIRING: Theseus Scamander x Female!Reader WORD COUNT: 4.7k SUMMARY: You and Theseus awaken in a place that feels all too familiar, uncovering that the truth behind Miriam’s intentions lies within the act of revenge itself. This is a tale of betrayal, love, and hatred, but it's also the story of how you learn to love again. A/N: This is it! I’m so so nervous for yall to read this, but I hope you like it!! I want to take a moment to thank everyone who has been here either from day one or at any time you found this series– thanks for sticking around. WARNINGS: Swearing. Angst. Injuries. Mentions of hurt. Mentions of being burnt (it’s not detailed), Mentions of death. Theseus being a simp (HAHA). No beta as always we die like men. MASTERLIST ; MASTERPOST

Augustus Warden was a tyrant, characterised by his uncaring, manipulative, and violent nature towards anyone who dared to oppose him. He held a firm belief in eradicating magic, viewing it as inherently evil, and saw himself as a saviour destined to rid the world of it.

Augustus Warden was also Miriam’s father.

Well, he could hardly call himself a father. He was never one to her. And was never a husband to her mother.

Augustus became obsessed with the perception of a saviour complex. It drove Miriam’s mother away, leaving her to deal with her father’s aggression and temper. Yet, Augustus's influence within the scourers' community grew, and The Gardenia Society landed itself in the thick of the chaos.

Again. Being hunted.

When your brother began showing signs of magic, your mother feared for his life. She had known about a distant ancestor with magical abilities for quite some time, though she hadn’t expected it to resurface in her only son.

Your brother was born at the wrong place and at the wrong time.

Your mother sought the help of Miriam, her closest friend. Almost a sister to her. She trusted her with her life. Nobody knew about your brother’s abilities besides your family and Miriam. It was a well-kept secret for the society's and your family's safety.

So, when word got out about your brother, your mother knew who had leaked the secret. Or so she thought.

The inhumane arrest of a boy. To be burned at the stake. Those were the words of the people. Just like their ancestors did. Hence, your mother decided to retaliate that betrayal of trust with Miriam for turning against her and her family. Miriam was then accused of being a witch and is the sole reason behind everything that happened to your brother.

She knew her father was insane but never knew he would ever go this far.

Her father. He showed no mercy.

“You dirty witch.”

Those were the words of the people, it rang against her ears.

Miriam remembers the fear etched in her throat. How her heart was beating out of her chest as she screamed, pleading to Augustus that this was all on pretence.

Yet, it seems that Augustus had been searching for a way to get rid of Miriam and finally found the opportunity.

A ball of flame in the darkness lit on a matchstick.

Augustus Warden stands tall and looming as he creeps from the shadows. He holds the little match with a grim twist to the edge of his lips. No sign of remorse. No sign of guilt.

“You did this to him … So long, witch.”

He tosses the matchstick.

Flames engulf Miriam.

Your family fled from the village with the help of The Gardenia Society and several Aurors, landing yourselves in the heart of London where the Warden would never find your brother. Since then, you had your memories erased.

But nothing ever stays permanent. And nothing ever truly dies.

–

Darkness.

Theseus struggles to grasp reality, feeling his presence as the memories from moments ago flood in.

He remembers … you. On the ground. Bleeding.

Immediately, he’s wide awake.

His surroundings are a blur, in the process of recollecting his thoughts when all that fills his head is you. Theseus then realises he’s seated; it’s cold, solid against his back and causes his slumped figure to lay straight on its surface.

A pungent smell suddenly fills his senses. Gasoline. He smells gasoline.

Merlin’s beard—

As he regains his sight, he recognises the room he is in. It’s circular, lined with seats to portray an amphitheatre. It’s a courtroom, though its structure tells a different story. Frescos held by its walls were heavily worn with time, abandoned, and unseen. This may be a ministry courtroom, but no longer operational.

The courtroom is filled with members of The Restoration Movement, all eyes on him. Among them, Morrigan and Mulberry stand sentinel, their scrutiny unyielding.

This is also when Theseus realises he is missing his wand.

Why on earth would Miriam bring him back to the ministry?

Before he could even begin to question it, Theseus spots you lying unconscious on the floor before him, in a pool of liquid. You’re drenched in gasoline too, he’s sure of it. It sends a sudden surge of shock to his heart, and there’s an immediate sense of urgency in how he moves to you, yet he stays unmoving in his seat.

Theseus glances at his arms and notices they have been bound with chains attached to the seat’s armrest. Eyes now wide, they return to your unmoving figure on the ground and all he thinks is to pull and pull and pull. Still, he can only watch you from a distance.

“Look at you. Helpless. Desperate. Seems like she changed you for the worse, Theseus.”

Miriam appears before him, you lay at her feet, tone laced with sarcasm as it booms through the courtroom. Strong and relinquished. Her expression wild, flashing with anger, hurt, and betrayal—hardened without an ounce of fragility and mercy in sight.

“Why are you doing this?”

There’s a tone of desperation tinged in his voice and it shakes him to his core. Theseus has been afraid plenty of times—during his training, the war. He has seen unspeakable things, but never has he been in the position of seeing someone he cares so tortured and bruised.

It clicks in his head. The ministry is the last place anyone would find them. Miriam is no fool.

Theseus heaves a silent prayer, hoping that despite the impossibilities of the day's events, both of you would make it out alive.

His gaze returns to you, catching a glimmer in your eye. You’re awake. Barely, but you are. Your body remains frozen, yet your eyes convey a silent assurance, hidden from Miriam's sharp scrutiny. It's a subtle promise that you'll endure. That you’ll be fine.

Miriam’s smile widens as her expression morphs into a cynical, surprised look, mocking his question.

“I laid out all the clues, and you still haven't figured it out? Perhaps you weren't as intelligent as I thought.”

Despite the gravity of the moment, Theseus restrains the impulse to roll his eyes. Of course, he quickly discerned the laid-out clues: the open door, the photograph, and the brooch. Yet, certain questions remain unanswered—how did his brother become privy to Miriam's existence, and how did he predict Theseus's unravelling of the hidden messages in the letters?

Perhaps, Miriam doesn’t know why either.

“All I want is to destroy her. The Gardenia Society. Everything her mother ever loved.”

Miriam speaks in a manner of delusional confidence. A false sense of belief that her actions are deemed righteous. That whatever she intends to do is all for justice.

And it all ties back to your mother and the Gardenia Society.

Theseus watches the way her eye twitches, a flicker of sheer annoyance.

Something feels wrong. Or missing?

“Yet, you, dear Theseus. You always had a habit of sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, and now I have no choice but to take you with her,” Miriam declares, her tone laced with frustration.

Theseus merely scoffs. It sends Miriam boiling.

"You’re a hypocrite, Miriam. You revelled in meddling in everyone's lives, in my family's lives. Tell me, Miriam, did you truly believe we wanted you around?"

“Shut up –”

“We only did because we felt bad for you. After your husband passed –”

“I DON'T NEED YOUR FUCKING PITY.”

Her voice tears through the room, booming against its very walls. Miriam's eyes blaze with fury as she strides toward Theseus, and in an instant, her hand connects with his cheek in a resounding slap that leaves it stinging.

Unbeknownst to anyone but Theseus, you are wide awake, silently observing his calculated provocations aimed at pushing Miriam to her limits. With each jab, you understand his strategy, sensing the gears turning in his mind as he buys time. Knowing Theseus, he probably had a plan in motion before he came for you.

Through her distractions, you take it as an opportunity to survey your surroundings, noting the dilapidated state of the room. Amidst the debris, a broken piece of wood catches your eye—it looks like a post that came apart from a railing. Its edges are sharpened after being torn apart. Something you could weaponise if you needed to.

Immediately you exchange a fleeting glance with Theseus. He’s looking right at you, though almost unnoticeable. You aren’t sure how you could tell, but there’s a silent understanding that develops between the of you.

Something is about to happen.

Just then, a sudden thud echoes from beyond the courtroom. It comes from the room’s entrance.

Miriam's attention snaps toward the sound, prompting you to feign unconsciousness once more. As she directs one of the men to investigate, the pieces fall into place.

Theseus just hopes the plan is set in motion.

He takes a deep breath before fixing Miriam with a steely gaze “You know, Miriam. Something doesn’t quite add up.”

Miriam's jaw clenches in response. “And what is that?” she retorts, her tone edged with defiance.

“The fact that I’m the one who’s in this chair, instead of her … This isn’t just about revenge on her mother isn’t it?”

He sees it. Only a flicker. Her facade slips ever so slightly.

“I’m not stupid, Miriam.”

A beat. The air thickens.

Theseus watches intently as she takes his words in. Then, she steps back, creating distance from him once more. As if she’s almost afraid he’ll be able to detect any sort of falter or weakness in her.

Her once furious eyes are now almost solemn.

“Oleander was … ambitious, hard-headed, and strong-willed man.” Miriam begins, her gaze distant. “Despite all his faults, I loved him. He promised me an escape from my father's tyranny, a chance for us to be together at last.”

Her eyes flicker towards you, still prone on the ground, and a tumult of emotions washes over her face—a mixture of anger and hurt.

“Then, her mother accused me of betraying the very secret that shielded her brother," Miriam continues, her voice tinged with bitterness. "I became a pawn in their game, a scapegoat to be sacrificed. Oleander vanished, leaving me to face the consequences alone.”

So, it’s all for love. Or more for the betrayal she felt.

"I discovered years later that it was he who leaked the secret. Turns out he was an Auror, undercover. He seduced the daughter of a Scourer to infiltrate my wretched father's inner circle. When everything went awry, he led the operation to save the members of The Gardenia Society," Miriam pauses, regaining composure as she continues, "But not me."

Then, Miriam turns to him once more.

"You remind me of him, Theseus. A little too much. All you seek is justice, yet you have no qualms about destroying lives in your path. You deem some unworthy and strike them down, all in the name of righteousness. Just like him. I will not stand by and let history repeat itself."

Fishing something from the pocket of her coat, Theseus discerns its shape in the dim light—a matchbox.

But, Theseus isn’t afraid. Not anymore.

It instead conjures a smile from him—all in rebellious smite.

“You won’t kill me.”

His tone is mocking. It elicits a frown from Miriam.

“What makes you think I won’t end you like the rest? I’ve killed muggles. I've killed her entire family without hesitation. I’m not afraid.”

“But you won’t kill me. Well, you can’t kill me,” Theseus counters with confidence as he clocks movement in the background.

“What?”

“All things must end, Miriam.”

Just then, a sudden flash of blue streaks across the courtroom and hits Morrigan in the shoulder. She collapses at impact.

Immediately, chaos erupts in the courtroom. Aurors flood the room, emerging from every corner of the amphitheatre as the surprise attack begins. Flashes of blinding blue, green and red bolt across the expanse as the attack began.

Theseus sees Travers in the crossfire, Mulberry collapsed on the ground at his feet. His expression is solemn, it’s a reflection after knowing the truth, but also a silent recognition and gratitude to Theseus that if he did not make it in time, this whole place would be in flames. It was risky if anything were to happen to him, but thankfully, his Patronus found Travers and knew of his current location. It was the right call.

Through the impossibilities of today, a miracle did happen.

Miriam’s face splits into pure horror and she loses her concentration amidst the onslaught. Before she can react, you spring into action, wielding the broken piece of wood you had your eye on with fierce determination. Instantly, you strike Miriam on the head with a forceful blow that immediately sends her to the ground, rendering her unconscious.

Miraculously, the binds that held him to the chair disappear, finally able to get to you.

Well, that certainly works.

Breathless and weary, you stand on the edge of exhaustion, your body protesting with every step as you find yourself teetering on the brink of collapse. Despite your efforts to remain upright, your knees finally give out, sending you to the ground. With palms outstretched, you strain against the weight of fatigue, muscling all your strength to keep yourself from falling.

You then feel him. His grip finds the curve of your shoulder and your arm, supporting the weight of your own. It's warm, gentle, desperate yet assuring.

Theseus stares down at you with panic in his eyes.

“Are you alright?”

The words hang in the air as you grapple with the question.

Are you really alright?

“... She killed my family.” you choke out, your voice strained with grief as you struggle to contain a sob. Immediately his hand finds your cheek, fingers against cold skin. They are soft. Grounding.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs softly.

You feel the gentle drag of his thumb just below your eye. It’s only then your blurred vision from the welling of tears, cheeks stained with the desolation and hurt that begins to settle within you. It hits you, gradually, but the pain is turning unbearable. It’s the physical pain searing through your back and the emotional hurt from everything that’s happened.

All you wanted was for this to end.

And now, when it is, where does it leave you?

Theseus’ careful touch remains on your cheek, his other hand firm against your shoulder. He can see the way your mind begins to spiral.

He says your name. You finally bring your eyes to meet his.

Furrowed brows, charming eyes, cheeks tinged with a little colour of red, vaguely tousled hair.

A small smile plays on his lips.

“We should get out of here, don’t you think?”

–

2 MONTHS LATER

My dearest,

I hope this letter finds you in consolation and comfort, though I must admit that my own heart is heavy with the weight of the news I bear of the fate of your brother.

Contrary to our belief, your brother did not meet his end on the battlefield, as we were led to believe. Instead, he orchestrated his demise when he sought information on your mother and The Gardenia Society. Through our research and Miriam’s testimony, we gathered that your brother was intentionally recruited into the Restoration Movement and allied with Morrigan. He had every intention to seek Miriam and avenge your mother’s death. He was part of the operation until Miriam sensed his true plan and decided to eliminate him. No matter the situation, Miriam would’ve killed him in the end, but she intended to use him to get to you first. This was when her plan started to fall apart.

This is all we know thus far. I shall keep looking for more. Your brother was a brave soul. He saved your life.

With that said, I hope this brings you some peace.

You must know you have been a constant in my mind these past few months. Though I understand your need to be alone at this time, nothing can ever describe the unthinkable things you have been through.

But perhaps, if you wish so, we could meet at St Mary’s Gardens in Woolwich. I hear it’s near your current home. I’ll be there on Sunday at 10 in the morning, should you choose to join me. It’ll be good to see your face once more.

Yours,Theseus

You’ve read this letter a hundred times since a certain familiar owl dropped it on your windowsill, just like the other times it had done so. Letters from Theseus were merely part of your days for the past two months, your desk in your bedroom filled with parchments of handwritten letters, signed by the very man that saved your life and sought to protect you.

Despite this, you never once gave a reply to any of his letters. Truth be told, you had been avoiding Theseus, a subconscious decision to try and distance yourself from everything related to magic. You never wanted to push him away, but you didn’t know how to separate yourself from the events with The Restoration Movement and Miriam without being in his presence. Theseus reminded you of all you’ve lost, though you seem to have forgotten the one thing you’ve gained.

You never saw him when Miriam was put on trial. When the ministry convinced you to step in as a witness, to give your testimony. In return, a deal was made—you get to keep your memories but sworn to secrecy. You somehow suspected that Theseus is the very reason the Ministry is so willing to work with you.

But it was overwhelming. Especially at the start. To talk about everything.

You pushed him away but It didn’t stop Theseus from writing to you. Update after update. He understands your grief better than you would expect.

Theseus never gave up on you. And for a moment, you wonder why you ever gave up on him.

A gust of wind whips through the deck of the Woolwich Ferry, tugging at the letter from your fingers. For a moment, it seemed like it would slip from your grasp, lost to the currents of the River Thames. Your heart leaps as you tighten your grip, fingers curling around the paper as if it were the only thing anchoring you to reality.

You clung to every word like it was a lifeline. His words were the first thing you reached for in the morning, the reassuring touch that helped you muster the strength to face another day alone.

Though certain words made your heart thrum a little faster than usual.

You must know you have been a constant in my mind these past few months.

You know how you feel about Theseus, but now, it’s clear as day.

Perhaps you don’t have to be alone anymore.

The ferry comes to a halt by Woolwich Pier, and your hands start getting clammy. From your position trailing behind a line of people as you step off the ferry, you can spot the gardens, a small gathering of trees amid the urban landscape.

However, you’re distracted, your mind lingering on the words that filled Theseus's letter.

It’ll be good to see your face once more.

The passing scenery catches you off guard and grounds you back to reality when you realise you’re already at the entrance of St Mary’s Gardens. Towering trees with arched branches and leaves rustling in the gentle breeze that shines golden against the morning sunlight. The trees cast shadows on the ground, dancing along the lush yet overgrown grass.

And there, you see Theseus.

He seems anxious, movements betraying a nervous energy that mirrored your own. One moment, he’s seated; the next, he’s standing; and another, he’s pacing as if unable to settle into one spot for more than a moment.

You watch him for a moment, somehow unable to move.

God, you miss him.

Then, as if he had sensed your presence, he’s turning around only to meet your gaze. In an instant, a wave of relief washes over his face, melting away the tension that had gripped him moments before. His expression softens at the mere sight of you. His expression splits into a smile that lights up his entire face.

Theseus says your name, and you feel the sudden warmth that floods your chest.

“Theseus.”

He carefully ambles to you, halting just about a foot away.

“You look …”

Tired, distraught, awful—

“Beautiful.”

Your heart picks up speed and pulls a bashful smile from you. You can’t even look at him without going red.

“Thank you. You look …”

Handsome, charming, the most beautiful man you’ve ever encountered.

“—well too. At least from the last time I saw you.”

The two of you were at St Mungo’s. Theseus had his arm around your waist, bearing the weight of your weakened frame as you stumbled, the sudden nausea overwhelming you after apparating to the hospital. In the reception area, you doubled over and vomited.

Just like old times.

Then, you were separated ever since.

Theseus mirrors your smile, similarly coy.

“I was beginning to think you were ignoring me for good.”

Your heart breaks a little at his words. “Look, Theseus. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. I was just …” you trail off, unable to finish your words. You feel guilty.

“No, it’s—you don’t have to apologise. You needed space, I understand that.” Theseus says with an edge of anxiety. As if one wrong word, you’ll go running. He purses his lips and tucks his hands into his pockets.

“I was just worried about you, that’s all.”

Your heart stutters. Theseus has always been so caring that it’s almost overwhelming.

He senses a shift in the air. He knows to be careful and patient. You need time. And he’s willing to wait as long as you want him to.

“If you would like, we could meet again. Same place, same time?”

“I would like that a lot, Theseus.”

–

Your Sundays were then days that truly felt brighter. Theseus works through the week at odd hours, yet ensures to keep his weekends free. Every Sunday, he’s there at St Mary’s Gardens, to give you an update on the investigation.

You find out how your mother passed in America at the hands of Miriam and how your brother may have been a seer, though unproven. It was the only explanation as to how he predicted you would even meet Theseus.

You buried your family. Three empty caskets.

Those times were the hardest. The realisation that secrets had been kept from you left you feeling helpless. Yet, through it all, Theseus stood by your side.

Weeks drift by, the case closes and Miriam and her followers are put behind bars. Still, Theseus ends with the same words:

“Same place, same time?”

So, Sundays turned into Fridays. Then, Wednesdays and Mondays—Theseus always found a way to weave you into his life, despite the hectic life of being an Auror. With his career on the rise from his hard work with your case, it’s hard for him to make time, but he makes it a point to see you, to hear your voice, to check up on you ever so often.

Theseus carries a certain air of enthusiasm when he’s with you. It’s carefully placed, disguised behind his calm demeanour, but you hope he knows how much you share that same enthusiasm whenever you see him. Whether it’s traversing through Hyde Park or sharing meals, these little times tend to be the highlights of your week. It revolves all around him.

Your love for Theseus doesn’t come careening in like an arrow pieced to your heart or a shock to the discernment of your feelings for him.

It’s gradual. And it grows larger and larger with every passing day. With every passing second.

And here you are, leaning against the railing that overlooks the River Thames, brushing shoulders with Theseus as you finish your ice cream. The river glimmers under the setting sun, and a gentle warm breeze sweeps through as the two of you watch Tower Bridge light up in comfortable silence.

“I saw Mr. Shacklebolt the other day,” you chirp suddenly, gaze trailing the ducks by the shore. The skies begin to turn dark as the crowds diminish, but you feel safe. Especially with Theseus.

Theseus turns to you with a curious furrow of his brows. “Who?”

You hum. It’s soft and contemplative and it causes a small smile to creep on your lips. “My old employer. He fired me months back. Before, you know, everything that happened –”

You catch your slipping and immediately halt your sentence, back to munching on your almost-gone ice cream cone.

Before I met you.

He recognises the implication and the sudden shift of your expression. It’s so vague, but he sees it. He always does.

Theseus takes a pause and decides to not address it.

“Really? So, did you clock him in the jaw?” There’s a hint of mischief in his tone and it causes you to laugh. Theseus’ eyes crinkle at the sight.

“I would have. He was right across the street. But, I decided not to. Not because he was with his children and I didn’t want them to see their father get knocked out by a lady –”

It’s Theseus’ turn to laugh. Your face splits into a grin as you continue. “I realised I wouldn’t be where I am today if he hadn’t fired me that day.”

A beat. You’re mustering up some sort of courage to make your care for Theseus known. To put it under the spotlight for everyone to see. From the corner of your eye, you can see him staring at you, taking you in, clinging to every word you say.

“And I wouldn’t have met you.”

You huff, feeling incredibly restless as you turn to face him.

“Theseus, I don’t think I ever thanked you for everything you’ve done for me. You saved my life, and you never gave up on me. I thank you for that.”

He goes quiet in an almost bashful manner now tucked into the pockets of his slacks as he replies, “I try my best … or are you just saying that because I bought you ice cream?”

“Oh piss off!” you snap back at his tease with ardent humour, jabbing him in his shoulder with your finger.

You watch him squirm away with a casual laugh, beaming at you like you’re the sun. At this moment you decide you’re not waiting anymore. God, you don’t even know why you waited this long.

Theseus falls silent, his gaze still fixed on you with a curious beam that ignites a sudden surge of courage within you—courage you never knew you had.

In an instant, you’re surging to him, closing the distance between you where your lips meet his. It’s clumsy, graceless and so quick that it’s almost dreamlike in its brevity. You’re looking at him with wide eyes as if you couldn’t believe what you had just done.

You kissed him.

And Theseus looks like he’s about to explode.

"It seems that you just beat me to it," he breathes, his own lips tingling with the burning imprint of yours.

His words elicit an airy laugh from you, and as you mirror his grin, Theseus feels his heart skip a beat at the sight. Of all the times he’d known you, he had never seen you this light, this warm, this … happy.

He can’t explain it, but an impulse drives to reach for your hand, fingers tangled in your own as he brings his other to the curve of your cheek, warm to the touch. Vacant from tears, but lined with crinkles of laughter and smiles.

He feels the same way when with you.

At that moment, Theseus leans in to press his lips to yours once more. It’s different from before—more gentle, honest, and grounding.

It’s beautiful.

You’ve lived your life full of discrepancies and contradictions, but Theseus is the one thing you were so certain about. It’s a final profound sense of clarity.

Entwined with his fingers, there’s a sense of contentment that settles within you. As if the happiness you always sought has finally found its way into your life.

TAGLIST: (i really hope i got this right ;-;)

@crumpets-are-better-with-jam

@inlovewithfictionalcharacters27

@aterriblelangblr

@yournewmommy

@mariaelizabeth21-blog1

@eternallyvenus

@poolnoodlerescuer

@mads-weasley

@decrepit-bees-knees

@eternallyvenus

@lanespeaks

@127djarin

@iceman-kazansky

@probabydeadbynow

@lunalov3smoony

@rinisfruity14

@orchiidflwer

#theseus scamander #theseus scamander x reader #theseus scamander x you #theseus scamander imagine #caught in a crossfire

29 notes · View notes

jess-the-vampire · 1 year

Note

I loved the finale but kinda wished hunter got to stomp belos too then sobs from happiness knowing it’s finally over or belos stuck in the between realm forever or reliving his worse nightmare as a fate worse than death

Honestly the finale felt so odd to me because we felt like were were getting setups that just were not given resolution in the finale.

And these are setups post cut, so these are things the writers had to have planned while knowing their time, which makes it more odd to me.

like at that point the focus should be to only set up things you are going to touch on and that come back into play, not add things you don't.

I personally don't think hunter needed to watch belos die, but when the show gave him new powers last episode i kinda expected them to like....come back in the finale?

like hunter's dash has no role in the finale at all, it was useful for the one scene he got regarding willow and gus and figuring out flapjack is with him and everything.....but it's one episode before the finale and it is completely forgotten after the fact outside of a couple dashes in the archive that are relatively minor.

and he ends up getting a new palsiman anyway so it just feels....off to me. I mean i was expecting him to get a new palisman but it now almost makes his dash a bit more irrelevant to even have.

kinda like how they kill glyphs, but we get glyphs at the end anyway so why the loss at all if it's not really going to stick?

honestly, let's ignore the fact the way belos died really should not have killed him for a second, Eda, Raine, and King are the characters with some of the least interactions with belos at all in the show.

Like his rule had affects on these characters and their loved ones and he did try to have eda killed, but when you think of belos' victims.....these three tend not to not be the first 3 you think of.

i kinda think the death would of been a little better if none of them jumped in and the rain just did it.

There was some minor set up for camilia or the other kids to help finish him off so i almost think it would've been more fitting if they were the ones to do it if we HAD to have that.

i dunno man, i've heard all the arguments for why belos's death works, and a lot of it seems to be rooted in the fact that "Belos is not complicated, he's evil, he doesn't need a big death and yada yada"

but it's like, it's not that belos isn't complicated, it's that the show seemed too afraid of making him complicated. I mentioned this in my last belos post but there's lots of evidence to suggest he's a more 3d character, because of how his story ties into the stories of other characters, because he symbolically represents what people who grow up in these oppressive systems can turn into. There's a lot of real potential for belos to stand out as a villian that comes from sympathetic origins but can't be forgiven or redeemed.

Which is a good lesson for kids, that people can come from bad spots but that doesn't mean you can forgive their actions.

Something that would be far more revolutionary and interesting and tie into the themes of this show much better.....then implying his depth, not committing to it and making him generic, and everyone praising this as if generic big bads who get killed aren't extremely common in most shows.

Su was a rare exception of redeeming a big bad, not the norm, and everyone seems to be under the weird vast impression it's the other way around. Unless you're a lacky, you die as a villain in pretty much every show.

But instead that gets replaced with "Well he did it cause he's inherently a bad person", even tho the show directly told us the audience that he was in indoctrinated child when it came to witch hunting, that this wasn't something he got into because he wanted to but because he NEEDED to survive in the town.

The show has plenty of set up and evidence that he does have something deeper to him but backed out of it for one reason or another.

And remember here, they were cut at ER, so they added this whole caleb backstory AFTER the cut, so even if were were to say they wanted belos to be deeper and changed their mind.....they added all the bits that implied depth AFTER the cut.

like frankly, in retrospect, if you want belos to just be an ozai metaphor esq character and not have any depth to his villainy at all, caleb should of been entirely cut.

Do something different with hunter, because having this half finished thing with caleb that is not relevant to belos's end at all feels like baiting the audience with complexity they never get.

You could of easily just reduced philip's backstory as just being this witch hunter who went missing years ago and that would be more fitting of making belos one note as they want him to be during the finale.

having all this drama with his brother leaving him for a witch and philip acting out in response feels strange to even implement if it's not even going to be touched on that much.

the show draws so much attention to it too, which makes it extra odd.

'They wanted to tell a story in the bg for the audience to figure out", ok, so that implied they want us to care about belos's origin....right??? So why not pay that off and reward those you got invested?

Having a little story to figure out is neat but not when its the basis for the plot and not when it's existence is gonna be boiled down to "Well none of this is relevant to why he became evil. He was just like that".

like having his backstory told like this could of been great, but the show ends saying belos is not complex and that none of this matters to why he's evil despite caleb clearly being important in why belos hates witches to begin with.

i might be less bothered if i knew the crew wanted to showcase the brother's story someday but they don't even seem to be high on the list of toh spinoff ideas.

it all feels like teasing a really compelling story that tied into the themes and then dropping it last minute. And now people are rewarding that because apparently now making villains just evil is revolutionary despite the fact this has been done to hell and back since the dawn of time.

Belos went from potentially being one of the most standout modern day antagonists, to being just like everyone else, and i'm not sure why everyone thinks that's supposed to be a good thing when we had the potential to look back at toh and reward them for diving into what can make people into a belos and the cautionary tale behind it.

and now instead of being memorable in that category for doing something interesting, he's just gonna be looped in with every other generic modern day big bad who represents this specific kind of evil.

If belos is not going to actually be allowed to be complex, don't bait the audience into thinking he is.

#the owl house #toh #emperor belos #philip wittebane #toh criticism

203 notes · View notes

aspoonofsugar · 2 months

Note

hey! Good day :) here to ask a question!! I was wondering about your process for analysis, character analysis, theme analysis- do you just write or are there specific things you look for? I suppose I’m curious if you have an idea/general gist of what you’re doing or steps you take to do your breakdowns. I’m trying to do something similar out of interest and your works are simply fascinating to read. I look up to your writing a lot!

hello!! Can I ask how you started analysing shows, how you went about it? I’m learning literary analysis and trying to do the same for hunter x hunter but I find it infinitely harder to analyse shows. Especially since I most notably consider diction in literary analysis lol

Hi!

Thank you for your nice words anon(s) and yay! I love meta-asks <3<3<3

So, it depends on the meta. In general, I try to focus on a specific topic, which can be:

a character (arc + foiling between characters)

a theme

the use of a specific motif, when it comes to a character or a theme

These are my three favourite kinds of analyses, but there are other types, as well. For example, some people are really into plot theories/predictions. Others prefer to focus on characters from a psychological viewpoint. Some other writers like to use philosophical lens or to compare different works. It really depends on your preference.

My preference is mostly for thematic analyses. This means that my character metas too tend to use a thematic lens. So...

WHAT IS THE THEME?

In short, the theme of a story is both:

the topic the story is exploring

the moral of the story, aka a phrase which summarizes its message

Stories explores topics through characters and plot, while the way the conflict is solved tells us the moral.

Some examples:

RWBY's main topic is humanity in both its weakness and strength and its moral is that victory is in a simple soul

Madoka's main topic is wishes and its moral is that it is worth to want things and to fight for them, even if it is painful

HXH is strange structurally, but its main topic is self-search, with its moral being that a person should not focus on the goal, but enjoy the journey

All of these messages and ideas aren't just things stated in dialogues (even if someone saying the theme helps). They emerge from the story itself.

RWBY's main conflict is about a destroyed world (remnant) surviving the anger of an evil witch (Salem). If humans let hate divide them, they lose. If they unite, they win. The main thematic question is then... can humans make the right choice? And the answer is that they can, as long as they remain simple souls (Ruby, but also Pyrrha at Beacon, Blake in Managerie, Yang in Mistral, Weiss with her family, JNR when they tag along and Penny in Atlas). The main message is that several people making the right choice leads to change. And that is humanity. This is why the characters keep being asked to give up their idealism and to embrace a more utilitarian way of doing things. And this is why every time they refuse and stick to their idealism. The conflict itself keeps testing their resolution.

Madoka's power system works through wishes, so the girls' powers and their backstories are all defined by their wishes and by how they relate to them. Madoka doesn't know what she wants. Homura's wish turns into an obsession. Mami makes a wish too early and thinks only about herself. Kyouko and Sayaka make a wish for someone else and have opposite reactions to their wishes ending poorly. Finally, it is revealed the girls' wishes are literally the force that keeps the world at balance. So, the plot, character arcs, conflict and worldbuilding are all about wishes.

HXH is made up of several arcs and each arc has its own theme. That said, the overall structure conveys the main theme. Gon's objective is to find Ging, but he keeps taking detours and getting engulfed in unrelated conflicts. However, the moment he meets Ging he realizes it is not his father who defines him, but rather it is all the people he met in his journey and his own experiences. Basically, HXH's strange structure conveys the main theme.

So, the theme (both topic and moral) should emerge by the characters, the worldbuilding, the conflict and sometimes even by the structure itself. In order to find it, one should start with the topic and ask themselves "What does the story really talk about?". The answer to this question will let you understand the theme as topic. The second step is to see how the story explores it.

DIFFERENT POINTS OF VIEW ON THE TOPIC

There are different ways a story can explore a topic. Still, the best stories have different perspectives clash with each other. Very often these different points of view are embodied by different characters.

Here are some examples, with some linked metas that explore the respective stories more in depth.

Madoka (topic= wishes):

Homura is determined to fulfill her wish no matter what

Kyubey is her opposite, as they are unable to wish since they lack feelings. This is why they need to recruit girls into creating energy through wishes

Madoka is in the middle, as she wants to wish for something, but doesn't know what

Mami, Kyouko and Sayaka all explore negative effects linked to wishes, which are connected to other secondary themes. Specifically, Mami explores the consequences of an immature wish, while Sayaka and Kyouko explore the selfishness/selflessness inherent in wishes

The conflict is solved through Madoka learning about the price of wishes, but still choosing to make a wish and to sacrifice her whole self for it. This ending conveys a specific moral: despite the pain and sacrifice that comes with them, wishes are still beautiful and worth it all. If Madoka had chosen to give up being a magical girl and had ended up the series without making a wish, the moral would have been the opposite: that a normal life is better than grandiose and dangerous dreams.

Monster (topic = the value of life)

Tenma believes that all lives are equal, which is why he chooses to save Johan as a child, despite being ordered to operate a far more influential patient.

Eva and Nina believe that not all lives are equal. In particular, Eva thinks that social status and importance in society influence the value of one's life. Nina instead believes that people who commit crime should be punished and lose their lives.

Johan believes no-life has value, including his own. In his words, the only thing all humans are equal in is death.

Here, the moral is conveyed through the Tenma/Nina vs Johan's conflict. Tenma is tested in his beliefs, but ultimately does not abandon them and ends the story by saving Johan. Nina instead is asked to change her mind, as she ends the story embracing Tenma's point of view.

RWBY - The Atlas Arc (topic = trust)

Ozpin lacks trust, as he is unable to trust others, no matter how loyal or dedicated to his cause they are

Ruby wants to "trust safely". She wants others, like Ironwood, to prove themselves to her before disclosing the truth to them

Ironwood is initially on Ruby's same page, but he spirals and comes to embody the "enemy of trust" aka control. He doesn't trust others, but wants to control them.

Oscar embodies trust, as he wants to trust Ironwood since the beginning. Even later on, he keeps on trusting people like Hazel and Emerald who are his enemies.

Cinder embodies another "enemy of trust", aka manipulation. She doesn't need to trust others to work with them, as she can use their feelings and wishes against them.

Penny embodies faith, which is a more extreme form of trust. She sacrifices herself and leaves the maiden power to Winter. She has no proof Winter will be able to save Weiss, Jaune or the relic, but she entrusts the future to her.

All these characters struggle with trust and its dangers. Some, like Ozpin, Ironwood and Cinder decide that trusting is too dangerous. Others, like Ruby, Penny and Oscar realize that to trust is the only way to move forward. Moreover, they learn there is not way to trust safely. As a matter of fact the moral of the arc is that "trust is a risk" and risks mean that things can end up badly. Still, not to take risk means to give up hope.

Hazbin Hotel - You didn't know song (topic= knowledge)

This song explores the idea of knowlege. The characters are after all in the middle of a questioning, which leads to several secrets coming out. Moreover, throughout it all the characters either admit or realize how ignorant they all are. The way they deal with this lack of knowledge establishes different thematic stances.

Charlie and Emily are both naive and ignore the darkest sides of their loved ones. Charlie doesn't know Vaggie used to be an exorcist and Emily has no idea Sera ordered the exterminations. Still, their answer to ignorance is to keep on questioning. They have no idea why only certain souls are admitted in heaven. Still, they think it is important to investigate the phenomenon and use it as evidence that there might be hope for the spirits in hell.

Lute and Adam don't know why some spirits end up in hell and others in heaven. Still, they do not bother to question it. So, Adam is caught by surprise by Charlie's question and has to improvise an answer. Not only that, but even later on the duo insist that Angel not being in Heaven proves he is unholy. And that's it.

Sera does know about the extermination, as she knows the system is unfair. Still, she refuses to question it and forbids others to do the same. She is the only one whose sin isn't ignornace, but knowledge.

There is no a clear thematic resolution to the question posed by the song. This is because the series is not over yet. However, the scene sets up the theme and the way characters will deal with it in later seasons will give us the moral.

As you can see, not only whole stories (like Madoka, or Monster) have themes, but also arcs (RWBY) and even episodes or scenes (Hazbin Hotel). That said, the way to go at it is always the same. Pintpoint the main topic and start investigate how the characters or the worldbuilding deal with it. You are gonna get several stances. The one which emeges victorious is the moral.

Let's highlight that the moral is not always embodied by the protagonist. For example, in the Madoka and RWBY's examples, Madoka and Ruby are initially at a loss and come to learn the moral by the end of the story (for Madoka) and arc (for Ruby). Similarly, Tenma initially does believe the moral, but doubts it throughout the story, only to be reminded and helped by other characters (like Nina).

In any case, the way the protagonist and characters in general relate to the main theme and to secondary themes is key for their arcs.

CHARACTERS AND THEME

When it comes to theme a character can either:

Believe the moral since the beginning

Not believe the moral since the beginning

In the first case, the character either stops believing the moral by the end (negative arc) or keeps believing the moral until the end (positive arc). In the second case, the character either learns the moral (positive arc) or doesn't learn the moral (negative arc).

In short, the story keeps challenging the character on their beliefs and they must either stick to their point of view or change it, depending if they believe in the moral since the beginning or not.

Exhibit A:

Charlie's belief that sinners can be redeemed is right. Still, in the beginning nobody else agrees with her, so she is challenged by the world around her. Her objective is not to lose faith in the Hazbin Hotel and to inspire others to change their mind too. Throughout her journey, she is bound to grow too. She starts as sheltered and naive with a simplistic idea of what redemption is. By the end, she will gain a deeper understanding of redempion and will grow as a result.

Exhibit B:

Eren's journey is about realizing what freedom (the main topic) is about. The problem is that he fixates himself on the idea that freedom means no boundaries, either natural nor humans. This leads him to embrace destruction and nihilism and to lose himself. In the end, the character who realizes what freedom truly is is Mikasa. She doesn't discard her bond with Eren, but is still able to make independent choices and to live as herself. In short, Eren doesn't learn the moral, hence why he spirals instead of growing.

Charlie is a protagonist who knows the moral and will grow with it in a positive arc. Eren is a protagonist who doesn't know the moral and never learns it. This is why he has a tragic negative arc.

These are just two examples, but there can be different combinations. By interrogating yourself on how characters relate to a theme, you get better a better understanding of their role in the story and of their overall arcs.

Still, how to find themes in a story? Luckily, each text is full of hints that are there for us to interpret them.

MOTIFS

Motifs are repetitive details within a story, which are used to communicate themes.

Anything can be a motif: a line, a musical tune, a specific imagery, an object. By repeating them in key moments throughout a narrative, they become symbols, which means they can lead to bigger metaphors and convey specific meanings.

In the song More Than Anything, dream is one of the main topics. We realize it because the characters keep mentioning it. At the same time, light keeps popping up. Lucifer summons light and throws it away, Charlie rememebrs a light show Lucifer imrpovised for her. Lucifer and Charlie start the song in the shadow and they end it in the light. This means that "light" is a motif throughout the song and by seeing how it is used we better understand the theme and the relationship between the two characters. We understand that light is a metaphor for dreams. Lucifer gives up on it, Charlie is inspired by it and eventually Lucifer summons it back as he has decided to believe in Charlie's dream. By looking at the way light is used, we can see that Charlie teaches Lucifer the moral that it is worth it to fight for dreams and not to give up on them.

In the CAA of HXH, gungi is a motif that comments both the topic of humanity and Meruem and Komugi's relationship. Their matches become a metaphor of monstrosity vs humanity, as humanity slowly conquers Meruem to the point he himself chooses to live and die as a human, rather than the King of the Ants. Similarly, Kokoriko symbolically becomes Komugi and Meruem's child, in the sense they give birth to this move and evolve the game.

Sometimes, their meaning is unique to the story. For example, gungi is a motif that makes sense within HxH and can't be brought outside of the series, as it is not a real world game. It only exists in that universe. Some other times, a motif can tie to bigger sets of symbols. For example, light and shadow are universal symbols that bring with them several additional meanings:

Good and Evil

The Jungian persona shadow

In the Hazbin Hotel song the first dychotomy doesn't fit, while the second one does. Initially both Lucifer and Charlie hide things from each other (shadow), whereas by the end they show who they are (light).

In short, to analyze a story, you should find its key motifs. They are hints to better understand the theme and the characters. Different stories will use different motifs and tie them to different wider sets of symbols. To find the right ones can help a lot in better understanding a story, as a whole.

Some examples:

RWBY uses fairy tales and alchemy as its main motif, so these two sets of symbols are the most useful to analyze the series

HxH is a shonen and uses its powers and fights to convey character arcs and themes, so to analyze one's nen abilities helps a lot

Hazbin Hotel is a musical series that takes inspiration from religion and mythology. So, it is probable that the best understanding of it will come from analyzing its songs and from looking into its religion inspiration

Of course this doesn't mean you should only use one motif to analyze a story. For example, you can use RWBY's semblances to look into the characters, as well. And there are some fairy tale allusions in Hazbin too. In the end, it is about using what best helps you understand a story as a whole.

What is more, there are general sets of symbols that can be useful in most stories, such as jungian archetypes. Finally, you might want to start from other aspects of the story itself, rather than theme or characters or plot. For example, you might be drawn to the world-building and realize it is used in a special way to explore the theme. Or you might be curious about character designs and see that they have their own symbolism (for example, I believe RWBY ones do and probably Hazbin Hotel ones, as well).

SOME PRACTICAL ADVICE

I have linked in the title of each paragraph, but this last one an article by @septembercfawkes. Her posts are great to better understand narrative structure and I found them enlightening.

I think the best thing you can do is to start with focused metas. Choose a scene, a character, a motif that intrigues you and start exploring it. It is better to start small and to narrow your focus, it would be easier to organize your article.

I usually outline the contents of the meta before starting to write it. Still, it sometimes changes as I keep writing.

It can be useful to write at the beginning of your analysis what you are gonna do. It will help you remember what the point of the meta is. For example, in my RWBY allusion meta or HxH nen meta, I always start with the motif I am analyzing. I summarize the fairy tale (even if many people know it already) and I explain what the character's ability is about. It helps organizing the flow and the contents.

The more you analyze the better you become at it, so it is just a matter of starting :)

Thank you for the asks, I hope this was helpful and not too much confusing!

Have a nice day!

#writing #meta-asks #asksfullofsugar #anonymous #sweet anon

43 notes · View notes

bananadramaaa · 7 months

Note

To start off I absolutely love Eden. She is amazing! So, the writer in me has to know your thoughts on these questions if you have thought about them.

When Philip goes into the Boiling Isles to go after Caleb, does Eden follow him? Or does she stay behind, and then when Philip doesn’t come back, she ends up going in after him?

What are her thoughts about the Boiling Isles if she goes with Philip? Does she have the same thoughts as Philip, or is she more open to it like Caleb?

If we're sticking to canon with Philip murdering Caleb, was Eden there when he did, or did he tell her after the fact? What would her thoughts be on Philip creating Grimwalkers of Caleb? Would she go along with Philip, or does she eventually think Philip has gone too far and stops siding with him?

I've got a few similar questions so I'll put them here all together. First of all, I want to warn you that I didn't plan anything big with Eden, she was basically created for an ask and for fun time sake, so anything here can be considered as nonsense. Notes of a madman. And it'll be a loooong post most likely.

So in one of the previous asks, I've written that I think Eden would be on the Philip's side, when the boy told his sister that their brother was "kidnapped" by Evil Witch. I think Philip and Caleb were pretty young at that time (as far as I can tell from some Hollow Mind paintings) so Eden was even younger. She would believe and follow her older brother without any questions, especially with believes they were taught at that time. She could be scared for sure, so I think Philip could play little trick like "explorer game" to put the kid at ease (and maybe himself too). To conclude: she would follow Philip right away.

Her first thoughts about the Boiling Isles - "Nine Circles of Hell". Especially when you're a little kid. Luz was scared in her first time on the BI, so Eden and Philip would be terrified for sure. I think Evelyn had a chance slowly and carefully introduce Caleb to her home realm. Philip and Eden didn't have a guide to that Reincarnation of the Bosch's Painting. First days, months even, could be a living nightmare and survival of the fittest game. But child's curiosity can do wonders, so I have a feeling that Eden is more open minded than Philip (I mean, in that case, Philip is playing role as the protector, breadwinner, etc.. He's responsible not only for himself, but also for his younger sister, so he wouldn't have much time to appreciate local flora, fauna, and culture).

In situation with Caleb's unfortunate death, Eden could be a part of the "Kill the Witch" plan. I'm sticking to the theory that Philip's original idea was to kill Evelyn, not Caleb. And Caleb rushed to Evelyn's defense and got himself stabbed. Well, going back to the phrase that Eden was a part of the "kill the witch" plan. In one of the Hollow Mind paintings Caleb was introducing Philip to Evelyn, so the same thing but with Eden addition. There could be a plan that Eden plays decoy and distracting Evelyn so Philip could be "the hand of justice" and kill the witch. But again Caleb got on the way and that lead to the final we all know.

With the grimwalkers situation could be really tricky... I think there would be a place to a harsh quarrel between Philip and Eden because of Caleb's death. All the drama you can imagine between siblings. So, from here, they would be separated, would go their own way. Maybe Eden would try to make amends and repent to Evelyn for what she and Philip's done. Let's take a fairy tale situation and imagine that she and Evelyn could, somehow, bury the hatchet. So they buried Caleb, later Eden found out Evelyn was pregnant. Maybe they started living together after, like a really weird family of witch mum, half witch-half human kid & human aunt (that helped to kill kid's father by accident). Eden could have found out about the grimwalkers in two ways in my opinion: to return some time later to her and Philip's lair and find it all there or to meet one of them by chance. But I'm sure she would be horrified.

#hope this makes any sense #ask #toh oc #wittebane brothers

63 notes · View notes

brf-rumortrackinganon · 3 months

Note

Will we never see the day the Harkles get what they deserve rumour tracking anon? I'm losing faith and I'm really tired. They are saved from all those scandals that demand their answer just with this one incident. I cannot anymore

I know, anon. It's really frustrating to see them keep getting away with it, almost as if they're constantly rewarded for bad behavior.

Some things that have helped me (bolding for emphasis to break up the giant chunks of text):

Taking breaks. Just walk away from it. A day, a weekend, a week. There isn't a whole lot happening in the BRF to counteract the Sussex shenanigans so Harry and Meghan are dominating the news There are no tiara or glam events. No tours/foreign visits. No projects being announced. 3 out of 7 senior royals are on medical leave and the ones who are working don't generate the same kind of headlines, attention, or coverage. Take a break from all this - maybe do a deep dive into another royal family or read historical books about the BRF (especially ones that pre-date the modern House of Windsor) or non-text books (like Angela Kelly's books or Chris Jackson's photobooks).

Spend time pursuing a creative hobby. I find that doing something creative helps keep my mind from wandering to the Sussexes and the nothingness coming from the BRF too often. Some of my creative pursuits: baking and cooking new recipes, DIY and craft projects (I love going to Goodwill, thrift stores, and architectural salvage places for home decor and furniture. Also, I'm not saying you need to pledge allegiance to Catherine, The Princess of Wales in every aspect of your life, but I'm also not not saying that Kate's Ring is an excellent accent color for an end table), learning how to make craft cocktails (it was a pandemic thing), and organizing decades and decades of family photos.

What I also find a cathartic is fanfiction writing. I've had dreams of being a writer since I was Princess Charlotte's age but listen. I cannot stick to a plot for the life of me, because I always want to know "what happens next." But let me tell you. It is hugely cathartic to write a fanfiction novel where a Meghan-like evil witch gets everything she deserves and a Harry-like tortured prince is redeemed by the pure love of an ordinary American girl (okay, that one was pre-Oprah before we all learned how truly messed up Harry is) or where a revenge fantasy where a Harry-like spoiled brat loses everything when he treats his saintly Kate-like girlfriend abominably and when he tries to win her back, she's fallen in love with a Henry Cavill-like swashbuckling Real Man or where the Harry-and-Meghan-like entitled spoilt prince and his wife try to overthrow the saintly and universally loved heir but the Queen swiftly, immediately, justly, and properly handles them with eviction, termination, and worldwide embarrassment. You can do everything to your characters and you can make them suffer in a way the real Harry and Meghan may never.

Find trashier, more trainwreckier drama to get stuck in. Bravo, anyone? A new season of Vanderpump Rules has just started, Summer House is about to start, and two of the villains from OG Vanderpump Rules (Jax and Kristen) have a spinoff series that's about to launch.

Changing your perspective. There's a famous leadership quote about problem-solving: How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time. In other words, you have to take big things (big problems) one at a time, piece by tiny piece. So yes, the big "elephant" is that the Sussexes look like they have everything - they still have titles, they still have massive million-dollar deals, they've got the Olive Garden, the BRF isn't stopping their PR. But also look at everything they don't have anymore:

They can't use their HRHs.

Their RPOs were taken away.

Their royal charities and patronages were taken away.

Charles isn't paying them as much money, if he's even paying for them.

Everyone is blaming them for hastening Philip's and The Queen's deaths.

They were evicted from Frogmore Cottage.

It took six months for the palace website to add Prince/Princess titles to Archie and Lili but it was instanteous to change George, Charlotte, and Louis to "of Wales."

Charles calls them "Harry and Meghan" or "my other son and his wife."

The family doesn't want to be seen with or around them. Even Eugenie seems to have abandoned ship these days.

William isn't taking Harry's calls.

Lili doesn't have a webpage on the royal website.

Harry's military titles and honors have been revoked. All he has left is the merit-based rank he "earned" as an enlisted soldier. (Which is being generous.)

Their Spotify deal was cancelled early. (Scobie admits this in Endgame.)

No more social media birthday greetings/shout-outs from official royal accounts.

Nothing has come out of Netflix except a whinefest docuseries that no one has taken seriously. Everything they've pitched gets shot down and Meghan isn't getting the talent she wants for her movie.

The only awards they're getting are the ones that they pay for - no Grammys for Spare's audiobook, no Emmys or Golden Globes for their documentaries or the Oprah interview, no Pulitzers or Literary Awards for their books. No Nobel Peace Prize for their recordbreaking humanitarian aid work.

They got the knockoff Kennedys (William got the real ones).

Meghan isn't "in" with A-List Hollywood. The celebrities she's been namedropping haven't had commercial box office hits in at least a decade. She isn't hosting or presenting at award shows.

Meghan isn't getting the lucrative influencer sponsorships and merching she wants, which is why she papwalks in parking lots.

Their foundation is a joke and their philanthropy/giving is increasingly under scrutiny for things that don't make sense.

Their "good deeds" are actually ulterior motives designed for maximum PR and celebrity bandwagons, rather than actually helping underserved communities.

There is actual, open, frequent speculation that their children aren't even real and that has to hurt as a parent.

The British press doesn't take them seriously.

They're a comedy punchline, and not just for satire. The Golden Globes made fun of them. The whole world laughed at them after the "car chase."

Harry's lawsuits aren't going well. He's now trying to relitigate a court finding so he doesn't have to pay his fines.

Elton John isn't flying them anywhere anymore. Oprah and Gayle have cut ties. Ellen DeGeneres seems disinterested. Tyler Perry noped out.

Harry's balding is atrocious. (I mean, really. In the overhead camera angles of The Queen's funeral, his bald spot jumps out at you from a mile away. Not even William's bald head stands out that much.)

They/Archewell bleed staff faster than a flesh wound.

Andrew -- ANDREW! -- still has a royal residence, still has RPOs, still gets papped with members of the royal family, still gets friendly press coverage (on occasion), still gets to wear/use some of his honors (like the RVO at coronation).

Eugenie got to have her own personal social media while Harry and Meghan got a "business" account.

The Sussex wedding was overshadowed by so much drama that still persists to this day (thanks for the Markle v Markle lawsuit, Sam!).

Spare made everyone realize Harry is as bad as Meghan and it's not all on her.

Harry's "Hero Harry"/Queen's Soldier PR persona has been completely and thoroughly shattered. Everyone knows it was just a publicity facade now.

Harry isn't even getting the "William's brother" edit anymore - that's now Mike Tindall.

They were erased from most of the Platinum Jubilee - their only official event was the service of thanksgiving. They didn't even get Trooping - Meghan had to arrange for a pap to take her picture to show us they were at Trooping.

They were erased from the Coronation - Harry got lumped in with the extended family (vs the line of succession, order of precedence, or working royals) and didn't get into any of the official programs, memorabilia, or portraits.

They've been shunned by most of British aristocracy - no invite to the Grosvenor wedding later this year.

No royal christening for Lili, and it's exceedingly more and more likely that the BRF hasn't met her yet.

The British media/press actually shows up and will be the first to defend the BRF against Sussex allegations when it really matters.

There are accusations of stolen valor against Harry because he seems to be supporting American military more than British military.

Harry's African charities, of which he is the figurehead, are in crisis with the discovery of SA and other allegations.

Supposedly Harry's role with BetterUp has been downgraded/demoted.

Invictus Games is going through some serious money issues. There's talk of cutting Harry and Meghan loose because they aren't/can't fundraise, and you know they won't go down swinging.

I'm sure there are more, but my point is that even though it looks like the Sussexes are getting away with things, they really haven't. after all, it's death by a thousand cuts...or eating an elephant piece by tiny piece -- it builds up over time.

Also I just realized that the Kate's Ring paint chip linked up earlier shows it being more of a teal or an inkier blue. It isn't - it's more of a cobalt blue or a royal blue.

#ask #brf #sussexes

39 notes · View notes