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joyish-little-boy · 5 months

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One Backstory to Rule them All

Anyone else think about how Sanji's backstory parallels every other Strawhat's backstory?

1. Luffy - Luffy is the most obvious, as they quite literally flashback to Shanks losing his arm right after Sanji explains how Zeff sacrificed his leg for Sanji. It's interesting the parallel here - because Shanks sacrifice is what took Luffy a step further in his dreams and made him determined to be the captain of his own pirate crew rather than simply joining Shank's crew, which is what he wanted to do previously. Now, for Sanji, Zeff's sacrifice had the opposite effect and Sanji chained himself to Zeff and what remained of Zeff's dreams rather than being pushed forward by it.

2. Zoro - I find it interesting that all of the Monster Trio parallel each other in their backstories in that all of them constantly lost when they were kids. Zoro lost 2001 times to Kuina, Luffy lost 50 fights to Ace and 50 to Sabo every day, and Sanji was constantly being beaten by his siblings. Each were called weak by those beating them, and each grew past that. What's also interesting to me is that there's the specific method of losing in Sanji's losing montage that's a direct callback to Zoro's backstory, as Oda includes multiple scenes of Sanji being beat at fights with wooden swords.

The difference being that Kuina is a decent human being and doesn't abuse Zoro. She calls him weak, but ultimately respects him as a rival and Zoro respects her in turn. Luffy also eventually earns that respect, though Sanji never does which leads to a noticeable difference in how Zoro and Sanji see themselves and their places on the crew - Thriller Bark I think being a perfect example of how Sanji believes that he's replaceable in a way that Zoro doesn't.

3. Nami - Nami and Sanji were both kids that found themselves in abusive situations, though at different ages. For both of them, their abuse centered around a man who's belief in their own superiority led them to a sense of entitlement to what was theirs. Arlong believed in his own biological superiority and Judge believed in the superiority of the Vinsmoke name, as well as genetic superiority which led him to experiment on his own children. Arlong values the lives of fishmen, the lives of the rest of his crew over the lives of Nami and the rest of her village. Judge values the lives of his other children over Sanji, seeing him as a failure for the way he was born (although it's also mentioned he blames Sanji for what happened with Sora). I think another very interesting parallel in their stories is the role of their respective older sisters. Nojiko and Reiju both privately support their younger sibling but both cannot stand up to the abusive figure in their lives. Nojiko gets tattoos to match Nami's to help her feel less alone, she listens to Nami, and does her best to try and support her through the 8 years of hell (8 years being another parallel to other members of the crew including Sanji). Reiju for her part laughs along with her brothers, but never lays a hand against Sanji and does her best to patch him up after everyone is gone. Their actions are indirect and discreet, save for the final fights, and that muted care is a very interesting part of each of their characters and it's why, I think neither of them felt it was their place to accompany their siblings on their journey. When Nami leaves, Nojiko lets her go, like she's always let her go. And Reiju pushes Sanji to leave, just as she pushed before. That regret of not being able to help more will stick with them forever.

4. Usopp - Usopp's backstory is all of 5 seconds long and still manages to parallel Sanji's somehow??? If I had a nickel for each strawhat who's mom was sick and died from illness when they were young, I'd have 2 nickels-

5. Chopper - HOO boy the parallel of your biological family hating you for the way that you were born and neglecting/abusing you for it hits right on Chopper's blue nose. Now, it's not all bad for either of them, though - considering they each had someone that accepted them for who they were. Chopper had Hiraluk and Sanji had Sora. Hiraluk inspired Chopper to be a doctor, emphasizing he had the most important qualification - a big heart. Sora meanwhile cried about how kind Sanji was to Reiju and her nurse, when he told her to "get better soon", calling him the "sweetest boy in the world". That kindness - that caring nature, is something that Hiraluk and Sora would do anything to protect and it's so evident that these two cared deeply for their kids. It's why Hiraluk ate that poisoned mushroom and encouraged Chopper to become a doctor and Sora ate the ruined food despite her fragile constitution and asked Sanji to cook for her again! This is love, baby!

These two kids were willing to risk so much to bring nourishment and care to the ones they loved, BOTH standing up to their biological families - Chopper fighting through his old herd of reindeer to get the mushroom, and Sanji sneaking out risking his father's wrath and braving the storm and wild dogs to deliver the food. Hiraluk and Sora are Chopper's and Sanji's source of encouragement which kick start each of their passions. And both of them tragically die which is honestly just heartbreaking. But all hope isn't lost, and both Chopper and Sanji find a new mentor, ones who are strict - but do care a lot for each of them, and help them develop the discipline they need to learn their respective crafts. Kurehara and Zeff are interesting parallels, both tough older mentors who are sharp of tongue and strict with their new apprentices. They can be this way without discouraging Chopper and Sanji, because the passion has already been ignited and so it's easy to see how they're good fits for helping these two live up to their full potential.

6. Robin - the big parallel with these two boils down to these two scenes and I sob about both of them.

Saul and Reiju, telling them to set out to sea, placing faith in the vastness of the world, knowing that they've done everything they can for now and planting that seed of hope that someday Robin and Sanji will meet people that can give them what they deserve is just such a touching moment. While this parallel is interesting, what's also interesting is the ways in which these two characters differ. The danger that Robin runs from is something that chases her, whereas the danger that Sanji runs from is his family and once he's made it onto the boat he's free. Robin thought she would never be safe, Sanji thought he was safe up until the wedding fiasco. And precisely the thing that hurts Sanji - the fact that his family wanted him gone - is so different from what's hurting Robin - the fact that she'll never be left alone by the government. Robin is wanted for the skills she and only she has, her story is (wo)man vs world, her bounty set at 79,000,000 which is the literal value on her head. Sanji is unwanted for the skills he, and he alone (in his family) lacks. There's no bounty, no one goes after him. His story is man vs self and undoing the damage that was done to his psyche as a child. It's so fascinating to me the way that both of these characters are saved by the crew in similar but such different ways, the way that each of them wanted to die, but for different reasons. Robin wanted to sacrifice herself because she's been betrayed and hurt by the world so many times that she couldn't trust in the strawhats' love. She loved them too much to risk being hurt like that again. Sanji wanted to sacrifice himself because he'd rather die than inconvenience the crew. Rather than not believing in their love, he doesn't believe he's worth that love, preferring to solve his problems on his own. And I think that it's so fitting the way that both of their stories intersect in Wano, with Robin being able to protect Sanji and Sanji finally believing in his own worth enough to ask for help. They're such different characters, with Sanji wearing his heart on his sleeves and Robin holding her's close to her chest and such interesting mirrors of each other.

7. Franky - they're cyborgs, what else can I say? The difference here is clear - Sanji's body was modified without his consent, whereas Franky modified himself. They're also both unwanted children, with Franky's parents abandoning him on Water 7 whereas Sanji's father was happy when Sanji left.

8. Brook - the parallel here is in the loneliness that both of them experienced, and really Sanji just got a taste of what Brook went through. Sanji and Brook were both parts of different crews before they were on the strawhats, albeit Sanji as a child and for a very short time, whereas Brook was with the Rumbar pirates for a longer time as an adult journeying very similarly to how the strawhats are now. Both were the sole survivors of their respective crews after being attacked, and though Sanji had Zeff on the rock, neither of them communicated with each other for the first 70 days after their initial agreement. Sanji felt a taste of the 50 years that Brook had to go through, with no food or water or way to escape off his abandoned pirate ship.

9. Jimbei - honestly I don't really have a good comparison for these two, other than they're both people who when confronted with the cruelty of others chose irrational kindness. Jimbe eventually learned how to live with and respect humans, and Sanji wouldn't let his family die, even after everything they put him through. They're both people who derived their codes of honor from others - Jimbei from Fisher Tiger and Queen Otohime and Sanji from Zeff. Idk maybe there's more there, but i don't really have too much to say about these two

Anyways, idk i just think they're neat 👉👈 and the way that Oda threw in parallels to all the other character's when completing Sanji's backstroy is so fascinating to me

#monkey d. luffy #roronoa zoro #nami #vinsmoke sanji #usopp #franky #nico robin #tony tony chopper #brook #one piece #jimbei

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briebysabs · 1 year

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I have made a discovery. Did you notice that Vanitas and Noé get closer to each other with every volume cover?

I’m not on drugs look at this. Look at this shit. First they appear alone on separate volumes. They are still strangers to each other and no real bond has formed in these chapters.

Then vol. 3, my personal fav, is when vanoé appear together. Notice how they aren’t looking at each other but there is a frame between them. Vanitas and Noé on opposite sides.

Their separate volume covers.

The frame was dividing them.

And Noé is holding on to the Book of Vanitas almost like the red string of fate, connecting the two. This is when they merge.

Think about what happens in vol. 3.

-Noé defends Vanitas from Ruthven

-We get the bell tower scene

-Chapter 12 aka “Dance scene: What is Love?”

-The start of the catacombs arc

Which is, in my opinion, is the real spark of their partnership.

Volume 5 has vanoé still in opposite directions but they are at each other’s back. With a hand raised, as if protecting the other person. They’re caring for each other now but don’t know what either one is doing. This can be a sign of trust, knowing the other’s got his back.

It can also be they’re so occupied with something else, hence both looking towards us, they aren’t paying attention to each other. Look at what happens in this volume.

-The end of vanijeanne’s date and Vanitas rushing to the hotel but not aware of what Ruthven did to Noé. Because Jeanne was sent as a distraction.

-Noé doesn’t pay attention to Dante and Vanitas cuz he wants to drink Vanitas’ blood.

-This is when they get separated because of Naenia and kinda Astolfo and Noé is taken in by Chloe.

Now we all know what happens in vol. 10. Vanoé again on opposite sides, they’re still not facing each other. But they seem more relaxed here than the other covers.

Pretty tired with everything, they lean against each other as a support. I can’t tell whether it’s the case in vol. 5 but this could be the first time they’re touching. Entering a new step in their relationship.

From what I’ve said too, not only are they getting closer by every volume. They might be making somewhat of a rotation. If that’s the case, next vanoé cover may have them facing forward with some part of their body touching.

And perhaps soon or if not, their last volume together could be when vanoé sees each other’s eyes for the first time.

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zvtara-was-never-canon · 4 months

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What do you think about the claims that Omashu could still parallel Zutara because

1. When they “Bonded”, they were in Ba Sing Se, whose motto is “There is no war in Ba Sing Se”.

2. Zuko wore “yellow” during the catacombs scene and it happened while they were in a cave with similar colored crystals.

3. Katara defeating Azula is somehow a better parallel to Oma’s rampage than Katara’s anger at Aang nearly dying.

4. Oma or shu was holding an Olive branch and Katara offered to heal Zuko’s scar.

5. Aang can’t be a reincarnation of Oma or shu because neither was mentioned to be the avatar whereas Katara and Zuko could be their reincarnations.

I've already explained how nonsensical this "Oma and Shu is about Zutara" is, but MAN, the points you brought up only made it look even stupider.

1 - Being FORCED to be in a place together to bond is very different from willingly meeting each other. Ba Sing Se DENYING there's a war going on is very different from two people having to meet in secret because the war is THE ONE THING everyone in both rival groups is talking about. The situations are not just different, they're complete opposites.

2 - Zuko was wearing Earth Kingdom clothes because he HAD to blend in to survive. He did for the entire season, it makes no sense to connect that to a legend HE NEVER EVEN HEARD OF. And obviously the cave of Ba Sing Se, an Earth Kingdom territory, is gonna have the same color pallete of Omashu's cave, since it is also EK, and this show is aimed at 6-year-olds. That's why we have things like everyone in the WATER tribe having BLUE eyes.

Also, he and Katara were in a cave with crytals - but Katara and Aang were ON THE ACTUAL CAVE OF OMA AND SHU, and had their first kiss there, which they both seemed to enjoy. If simply having a conversation in a cave counts as parallels to Oma and Shu, Zuko opening up about his personal struggles to Aang (whose soul wasn't even there) in the North Pole and the Kataang dance in the secret party also count.

3 - Like you pointed out, Katara AND Aang fighting Azula, who had not even attacked Zuko at that point, cannot mean her grief over him parallels Oma grief for Shu (especially since, again, Zuko was fine). Meanwhile Katara was five seconds away from going Koizilla mode after Azula KILLED AANG IN BATTLE, aka the same way Shu died.

4 - FINALLY, a halfway decent point! Yes, the Crossroads scene was absolutely about two enemies maybe seeing eye-to-eye for once and realizing they're not so different - that's a theme that is constantly repeated through all three seasons of Avatar, through many different characters and dynamics.

But that doesn't change the fact that empathy/compassion is not the same as "I'm in love with you", nor the fact that, unlike Shu, Zuko REJECTED the peace offering - funny how Zutarians always ignore that part, huh? Once again, the situation is not just different, it's the direct opposite.

5 - The Avatar is the only confirmed case of reincarnation in Avatar. It's very possible that there are more (and Momo was originally going to be Gyatso's reincarnation), but we cannot say any character other than Aang is a reincarnation of someone else because the show did not ever say that was even possible.

And even if it IS, that does not mean Katara and Zuko HAVE to be Oma and Shu. There were literally THOUSANDS of people on opposite sides of a war on that show, and like I said, they were not even the only two characters to have a moment in a cave AND Zuko never even heard of the legend. He is not connected to it at all, unlike Aang.

(And while history repeating itself IS a theme in Avatar, cicles being BROKEN is also important narratively, so Zuko rejecting Katara's peace offering in Crossroads shows that even if, against all odds, he WAS Shu, their romance won't repeat itself, at least in this life)

Also, there's a big difference between saying "Katara and Aang are Oma and Shu reincarnated" and "The writers used Oma and Shu's story to further Katara and Aang's plot."

So yeah, bad, terrible, awful "arguments" just to pretend the Kataang centered episode was secretly about Zutara all along. These people gotta learn to the L already.

#anti zutara #pro kataang

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theteasetwrites · 1 year

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Merciless Beauty

Chapter 4: Only Your Word

❧ Pairing: Knight Daryl Dixon x Princess Reader ❧ Era: Medieval fantasy AU ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: references to sexuality (ooo spicy), women not having rights I guess?, idk what else ❧ Word Count: 6.5k

❧ Before You Read...

❧ Glossary

❧ In This Chapter: Four months have passed since Sir Daryl first escorted you outside the castle walls, and you've grown quite fond of him, just as he has grown fond of you. However, there's trouble afoot with the mysterious Sir Negan and his Saviors gaining the upper hand against King Ezekiel's forces, and it is revealed that Sir Negan's threats hold more water than you initially thought.

❧ A/N: Ayyy this is a fun chapter. I loved writing in Michonne and Maggie as reader's ladies-in-waiting! And yeah, the princess and the knight are starting to fall for each other. Lots of mutual pining going on. Oh, and a really, really cute scene between them at the end... I also loved her convo with Ezekiel. Oh, and Shiva makes an appearance too! Just lots of fun stuff this chapter.

The lady’s lips curled into a mischievous smirk, while the other lady side-eyed her with a similar expression of impish delight.

“What are you looking so smug for, Margaret?” you asked, letting your needlework settle into your lap. “And you, Michonne? Did you not come from the duke’s bed this morning, hm?”

The dread-locked woman’s smile faded, but Margaret only bursted out into a loud cacophony of laughter. “Oh, you’re both lecherous, lascivious, unchaste women.”

“I am not!” you replied quickly, serious in your tone. “Not that it’s any of your concern, but I’ll have you know that I am as pure as the driven snow. Michonne is the unchaste one, I tell you.”

“There’s no reason I shouldn’t court the duke,” defended Michonne. “We’re of the same social standing. It is you, your highness, who is sleeping with―”

You dropped your embroidery hoop once more, this time with more fervor as you scowled at your lady-in-waiting and pointed accusatory in her direction. “I am sleeping with no one!” you replied. “And you’d better not spread that rumor, Michonne. I’m quite serious.”

Margaret stood from her chair to cross the solar and throw herself dramatically on the upholstered chaise lounge upon which you sat. With a flourish, she grabbed your hoop and tossed it carelessly upon the timber floor.

“Excuse you, madam!” you laughed.

“Tell us about Sir Daryl,” she replied, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. She nudged your shoulder with increasingly impatient shoves as you remained silent, hindering a giggle.

“Yes, tell us about how gallant he is,” laughed Michonne.

“Is he quite… muscular?” prodded Margaret.

Informing your ladies-in-waiting about the several excursions with the knight you’d made in the last four months was quickly becoming regretful. They’d been begging you for over a week to spill the details, each time insisting upon something more happening. But, alas, there wasn’t much to tell. Sir Daryl was your friend, yes, but nothing more. He cared for you, and, in many ways, you cared for him. He wasn’t like any knight you’d ever read about, he was… unconventional. He obeyed his lord, but he abided by his own code of conduct first and foremost. That code of conduct was not purely based in chivalry, as most knights seemed to be.

That all being said, he was still so valiant, heroic, noble, even, in his own way. He was both the perfect picture of a knight, and the exact opposite. It almost frustrated you how much of a contradiction he was, and it led you to think of him much more than you would’ve had he been completely straightforward and easily understood, but he wasn’t. Even after five or six different trips to the outside, you still couldn’t quite get a handle on him. It thrilled you more than you were willing to outwardly admit, but inside you, you did feel a strange tickle at the pit of your stomach whenever you heard his voice call your name, or his hand touched you to instruct you with his knife, after he insisted that you learn to defend yourself against the Dead.

In your thoughts, you’d become too lost to recall Margaret’s question, until it boomeranged back into the forefront of your mind―is he quite muscular?

A man’s figure had never really intrigued you before. What you knew of most men in court was that they were most often clad in loose-fitting tunics that failed to reveal any kind of silhouette. Daryl dressed not too dissimilarly, but the minimal armor he wore was tight-fitting enough to outline the brawny frame underneath. There were times he’d had to strip himself of his outer layers, namely his cloak and his surcote, until he was just in his linen shirt and chausses. Despite every convention that told you to pay no mind to the man’s undergarments, you found it nearly impossible not to allow yourself one or two curious moments to look upon the knight’s build.

Of course he was quite muscular, he had to be. Though during your outings he did not wear a full suit of armor, he still carried about his person a heavy baldric and a greatsword, as well as an arbalest and a myriad of other weapons you could not bear to count. But he seemed soft, too, not having flesh that stretched thin over his lean muscles. No, he was still quite bulky, and warm. Very warm. So warm you but had to stand beside him to feel it.

It occurred to you then how much time you’d spent thinking about the knight’s body, and how close you’d been to seeing it bare.

“I do not know, Margaret,” you lied. “How would I know such a thing?”

The lady narrowed her olive-colored eyes with knitted brows that further served to question you. Disbelief had characterized the ladies’ attitudes towards your denial, though it was true that you’d never touched the man more than a hug. If that was love, then perhaps you were in love, but you weren’t quite that naïve. At least, you weren’t naïve enough to admit it.

“All knights are muscular,” answered Michonne matter-of-factly. “Let her highness be. Poor thing must already receive quite the thumping from Sir Dar―”

“Thumping?!” you replied, your horrified voice resounding over the ladies’ raucous laughter. “You’re terrible!”

The ladies’ mirth soon died down to a faltering giggle. Margaret sat up straight as she reached her hands up to fix her pearl-encrusted hennin, adjusting the translucent white veil back to its original dignified position.

“Have you thought of it?” she asked with a smirk.

“Of what?” You feigned innocence until the last possible second. It wouldn’t be befitting of a lady to even insinuate that you knew what she was talking about, but you did. From the moment he first put his hands on you, you knew of that desire, though you’d convinced yourself it wasn’t him who sparked it, but just the feeling. Any man could give you that feeling, right? Not just some knight…

“Of laying with him?”

“No, not at all,” you lied again. “That would be wrong, you know that. We’re not married, and we could never be married, anyway. In any case, my feelings are not of that nature.”

Even as those false words tore through your vocal cords, you knew it was wrong, and you realized then, with a pit forming in your stomach and a rush of tingles surging through your veins, that you did feel some kind of attraction to the knight. It was evident in every thought of him that lingered in your mind long after he’d leave you alone in your chambers after a day of frolicking in the meadows and listening to the soft-spoken, knowledgeable man speak of every herb and tree and flower, his voice both gentle like a whisper and rough like sandpaper.

You found that an emptiness creeped up on you at times when he wasn’t near you, a sense of something missing that had taken root inside your heart. When those roots were torn from you, you would soothe yourself with the recorded memory of his voice, his face, his body…

Perhaps I do feel something for Sir Daryl, you thought to yourself.

But it didn’t matter what the true nature of your feelings were. The truth was that you could never admit these thoughts to anyone, not even him, and especially not your father.

It wasn’t like you found yourself rather fond of a man like Duke Richard, who was below your class, but high enough to be your suitor. A knight was below nobility. Higher than the serfs, but too low for a woman of your status, the highest status. He would’ve been able to court a lady perhaps, like Michonne or Margaret, or any woman of noble birth, but not you. Certainly not you.

So you willed the thoughts from your mind whenever they materialized, however they did so. The difficulty was in denying yourself the strange pleasure you felt from thinking of him, the longing. It was nearly unbearable to send those enchanting little shivers away, or to tear your gaze from him when you spotted him from a distance in the courtyard or the great hall. Oh, how you wished to allow yourself the thrill of thinking of him and his sweetness, his kindness, his devotion to you… But it was much too risky.

What you didn’t know, though, was how he ached for you, too.

That very same evening, you’d been called to dinner with your father in the great hall, just as usual, but there was something on the king’s mind. His joviality was much more subdued, almost to the point of melancholy, but he kept his spirits up artificially. Smiles were propped up on crutches and laughs were haphazardly pieced together by glue. In fact, he hadn’t been himself for a while, but it was a gradual change in demeanor that seemed to evolve into a darker shade of blue as the days went by.

There was much for him to be saddened by―the world was broken, he was indefinitely grieving the tragic loss of your mother, but these things had always been there since the Scourge began. No, this was something different, but you weren’t going to prod him, since it seemed that he himself wanted to display his usual image of jolly optimism.

As you poked at your generous helping of pheasant and turnips, the king talked at length about his plans for the upcoming annual jousting tournament, to which you simply nodded and interjected occasional brief acknowledgements. Noticing your lack of enthusiasm on the topic, he ventured to change the subject.

“I’ve been told you’ve fallen ill several times when I’m away,” he said, garnering your attention rather ungraciously as you bit your tongue in the midst of chewing on the tender game. As you dabbed your lips with your cloth serviette, he continued, his voice not coated in distrust or suspicion of your subterfuge, but drenched in fatherly concern. “Tell me, what seems to be the ailment, my dear? I could send for the apothecary… I’m concerned for you. I couldn’t bear to think…” His voice quivered before it trailed off into nothingness. Reaching across the surface of the wooden table, he grasped your hand. “Speak to me.”

What were you to say? Oh, father, I’m perfectly fine. In fact, I might be falling in love with a knight who is so graciously sneaking me out of the kingdom when you’re away! Or, if you continued the ruse, you were sure that the king’s apothecary would diagnose you with a typical case of hysteria, or perhaps a wandering womb. Perhaps both. A woman’s medical health was scarcely taken seriously, and besides, there was nothing wrong with you, anyway. If you were found to be hysteric, there was a chance you’d be married off immediately to whatever suitor was closest at hand. Afterall, the first and foremost remedy for a hysterical woman was sex with a man. Something about “sexual frustration” and the “healing properties of semen.” You weren’t entirely sure, as you’d put down that book on common medical ailments about as soon as you picked it up. It all seemed like hogwash to you.

“I’m fine, father,” you replied with a smile, though you still had to work up some kind of story to explain your illness. “It’s just… headaches.” That seemed to concern him more, though you were sure any description of symptoms would cause him worry. “It’s nothing serious. It’s probably just… foul air, or something of that sort. Nothing to worry about.”

You startled for a moment when a loud chuff from the tiger (yes, the tiger) at your father’s feet reverberated through you. “Oh!” you breathed, your hand holding your heart as you calmed. “Shiva… Father, may I feed her the rest of my pheasant? I’m full.”

The king seemed distracted now, his eyes roaming aimlessly towards the roaring fire of the hearth. “What? Oh, yes…” He pursed his lips to make a kissing sound at the cat, to which the great animal stood on its four feet. Her warm amber colored eyes followed his hand, which pointed towards you as you held out the game for the tiger.

“Come here, my pet,” you cooed, having become quite accustomed to the exotic animal in your home. Ezekiel was never a conventional king, after all, and he took great care of Shiva, so why not keep her in the house? She was a beautiful creature, slyly slinking across the great hall with her prize after receiving a gentle pat between her ears from you.

And now, you raised your eyes to look concerned at your father, whose behavior as of late worried you. “Now, won’t you tell me what’s on your mind?” Not only were you fretting for him, but it took the weight of your deception off your shoulders for a moment as you shifted the conversation to him. “You’ve been acting stranger than me. Is it…” The Saviors, you wanted to say, but you had to be careful, as the king must not know that you’d heard about the attacks, and that you’d known all this time that his trips were to meet with neighboring kingdoms to discuss what to do about the infamous Sir Negan and his band of violent plunderers.

And, of course, there was the issue of… what you’d heard the man had wanted. You hadn’t heard word of this threat in months, not since you eavesdropped on your father’s conversation with the constable, but it hadn’t left your mind since. In fact, the only times you could forget about it were the times you spent close to Sir Daryl, who seemed to whisk you away on a new adventure each time you climbed on the back of his horse, holding tight to his waist and feeling the warmth of his broad back as you rested your chin happily upon his shoulder. His warm, earthy scent had lingered, too, as well as the feeling of his strong, brawny frame barely fitting in your arms’ grasp.

Oh, yes. Father. “What is troubling you, father?”

In his heart, he knew you deserved to know, but he’d been dreading it until the last possible second, until he knew for sure whether or not the threat was completely legitimate, and not just some dramatic ramblings of a negligible ne’er-do-well. Now, though, it seemed that the threat of Sir Negan and the Saviors was very real, and very serious.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, clearing his throat as he straightened his back and narrowed his warm brown eyes to a dark, foreboding stare. Whatever he was about to say, you were half-certain you’d know what it would be, but that look on his face was not encouraging. Could it have been worse than what you’d already heard? Of course it could… It’s much more common for things to turn worse rather than better, you’d come to realize.

“There has been… something troubling me for quite some time, daughter. I―I was… not anticipating worrying you with the comings-and-goings in the kingdom. I always tried to keep such things off your mind, to not burden you with matters of petty crime or town gossip, but there’s…” He shifted again, a discomfort contorting his face as he tried to hold back a grimace. You’d never really seen such anger hidden behind his eyes, coming out so visibly. It made your heart race and your hand shake as you raised your goblet of cider to your lips.

“My dear,” he sighed, “there’s peril in Alexandria. I must admit, I didn’t think it was this serious, but I’m afraid I can’t deny it any longer.”

A silence followed, torturing you as you waited for him to speak again. “Just tell me,” you said. “Tell me what’s happening.”

Please don’t give me to that man.

Knowing he was now left with the consequences of delaying his vague warnings, he inhaled deeply before speaking, his voice eerily calm, though you knew such a tone hid a terrible anxiety.

“For the past four months,” he began, “the constable has been dealing with some… unsavory characters. They’re not from our kingdom, in fact, we do not know where they come from, other than a that it is a fortress known only as the Sanctuary… It’s a group of thugs. Racketeers, extortionists, thieves, whatever you want to call them. They’re led by a knight who calls himself Sir Negan.” At this point, he let out a heavy, deep huff. Even the mention of the man’s name seemed to disturb him. It certainly disturbed you, your body shivering as you inched closer and closer to the reveal of whatever terror was troubling the usually jovial king, and whatever news you were to receive regarding Sir Negan and his… desires.

“Sir Negan,” he continued, “he’s a very bad man… I won’t go into the details in front of you, because it’s surely nothing a lady needs to hear, but there is something you need to know.”

No, please… Please, father.

In any other situation, the feeling of his warm hand cupping yours would’ve been welcome, but now, it only seemed like an attempt to reduce the blow of whatever terrible news you were about to receive. You felt as though your blood was rushing to your head, coagulating around the top. You blinked hard and sucked in strained, short breaths.

To make matters worse, he drew out the heavy, unbearable silence of anticipation until the last possible second before he spoke again, finally relieving you of your anxiety, though you only felt like fainting when the words were fully processed by your dizzied mind.

“He demands your hand in marriage.”

Pulling your hand away shakily you palmed your forehead, as if such a movement could possibly put an end to the incessant pounding.

Though you knew this was coming, and you’d tried to prepare yourself to hear it for the past four months, you’d hoped that the knight would’ve been defeated, or he would’ve called off his threats when Alexandria’s militia cracked down on his men’s crime sprees, but no, this was not the case, and now you had to face the fact that this wasn’t just some idle threat or empty effort at intimidation, it was real, and it was getting closer.

The king uttered your name a few times, but it was a blurred sound. Only when you blinked yourself back to reality did you process his words. “My dear…” He seemed near speechless, too, but his voice pulled through. “He’s left us numerous… messages, all of which threaten to seize the throne of Alexandria by force, unless I give you to him.”

But you wouldn’t, you thought. Please, father. You wouldn’t. I know you wouldn’t.

This time, both of his hands reached out to form a cradle around yours. No longer was it a foreboding presence, but a comforting one. You raised your wet eyes to look at him, a small smile forming. How could he smile at a time like this?

He squeezed your hands, then spoke in an almost dulcet, sentimental tone. “But I’d let this castle burn to embers before I would ever let a man like that take you away.”

Thank God!

“Oh, father,” you sighed in relief, though it was a short-lived comfort. The thought of your kingdom that you loved so much burning to the ground, or being ransacked and sieged by such scoundrels… It filled you with a rage and a fear and a sadness beyond anything you’d felt before. You didn’t know you could feel so hot, but your anger was prickling at your skin like the wild flames of a raging fire. “But… we cannot let them kill our people, take our kingdom. Can’t the constable form a battalion to fight them? This… sanctuary… If you know where it is, you could send a cavalry of your best knights to wipe them out, couldn’t you?”

“That’s the problem—we have no way of knowing where the Sanctuary is. We’ve tried capturing a Savior, interrogating him, but he was so loyal to Negan, even said he was Negan. They all say that—‘I’m Negan. We’re all Negan.’ All we know of Negan, besides his rather bold demands, is that he wields a spiked mace and wears black plate armor. Besides that, we know from neighboring kingdoms that they, too, have been weakened by the Saviors, and it appears that, if we tried to form a coalition against them, our combined defenses would not be enough to hold against them. Their numbers are great, and it’s only a matter of time before they stir up more trouble, which is why I’ve decided that you are to be accompanied from now on by a personal bodyguard, just in case.”

You perked up at that, back straightened and eyes staring wide at your father, not so much in shock, but in excitement, because you immediately had a particular knight in mind.

“Of course, we’ll still be trying to get whatever information we can, following leads to see where this Sanctuary is, but first and foremost, I want my daughter to be safe, no matter what. Day and night. Always under the supervision of a bodyguard.”

Oh, please, father… Let me choose him.

“Yes, father,” you replied with a nod, and a sweet smile, as you prepared yourself to beg on your knees to choose. Of course Sir Daryl would have to be your bodyguard, no question. You trusted him more than any of the king’s guards, and you were sure that every other knight in Alexandria paled in comparison to the gallantry of Sir Daryl of House Dixon. And besides, you felt safe with him. “Pray, who will you assign to be my bodyguard? Or will I be able to choose?”

The king raised a wiry gray eyebrow. “Oh… Well, I was thinking of assigning one of my guards, but is there someone in particular you had in mind?”

Trying not to appear too eager, you shrugged your shoulders as you picked up your fork to play with the leftover cold turnips on your plate. If you weren’t trying to remain nonchalant, you would’ve screamed his name to the heavens—Sir Daryl!

“I’d like to think about it,” you said. “I will let you know soon. I’m rather spent. I think I’ll retire now.”

With an exchange of goodnights and I love you’s, you retreated to your quarters with a spring in your step, eager to next see Sir Daryl, and to ask him to be your protector, officially.

The wind stirred up a flurry of leaves in the distance, while a dark cluster of clouds began to converge above you. A single, featherlight droplet landed upon your cheek, but you only smiled up at the gray sky above you. It was good to feel the rain. Back at the keep, your father would never allow you to set foot into the courtyard in this weather for fear of you catching cold, and perhaps that made the rain all the more magical for you. Its forbiddenness only perpetuated your intrigue.

When a chill wind made you visibly shiver, you were reminded of the knight’s presence as he draped his heavy wool cloak over your shoulders. “We should go back,” he said, his voice low and raspy. You’d grown so comforted by it, its scratchiness akin to the very same wool you felt tickling your fingers as you bundled yourself up.

“Just a little while longer?” you asked. After a while, you’d begun to notice Sir Daryl was more accommodating to you when widened your eyes or spoke with a particular lilt. In fact, you couldn’t recall a recent time in which the man had said no to you. “Please?”

He bent his outstretched leg with a huff, resting his elbow upon his knee as he debated for a moment, knowing full well that your saccharine pleas were going to win out in the end anyway. In fact, he didn’t want to head back, either. He wanted to stay planted in this circle of overgrown grass, surrounded by the ancient standing stones that towered over the two of you, making you both feel so small, so unimportant. Somehow, it was a welcome relief for both of you, being in this world where status and circumstance didn’t seem to matter.

Whatever fight was in him, it melted like an ice cube over an open flame when your lips curled into an effortless smile, your gaze directed at him, and only him. Just a little smile sent his way was enough to make him feel more special than any nobleman. So, he gave in, as he knew he would. He always did.

“Just a little while,” he agreed, leaning back on his forearms to stretch out his legs once again. Closing his eyes, he held his face flat up to the sprinkling cloud above, with a slight upward tilt of his pleasantly hairy chin. You followed suit, leaning back to turn on your side and admire his profile—his short, snub nose, wispy brown hairs hanging unruly over his forehead and climbing over his cheeks like overgrown ivy. Somewhere in the darkness of his mop of wavy locks, there was a sliver of pale skin poking out, identifying his ear. It was one of the many small details of him you admired, and you found yourself wanting to outstretch your finger and just trace the helix of his ear, but your shyness overcame you, as it always did whenever you thought of touching him. Lately, you’d thought of touching him in places you’d never even seen drawings of before. Actually, you almost had no idea what to expect of those places, but you imagined them nonetheless.

“Daryl?” you asked, letting your head fall into the cradle of your arm as you tried to memorize this angle of him, just for your own pleasure. He was making you so selfish, in that everything he did was becoming an indulgence for you.

“Hm?” he answered with a grunt.

In a matter of moments, you had to actually think about what you were going to say. You hadn’t thought that far ahead, you just wanted to say his name. Maybe, in your subconscious, you really wanted to ask if he’d let you hold his hand. Your innocence wouldn’t let you do much more than that, but even that was more than you should’ve done.

“What are you thinking about?”

Your breath shuddered when he turned to look at you, his eyes sleepy and soft. “Nothin’.” That was a lie. He’d been thinking about you, as he always did these days. He was thinking about all the things he was too afraid to do, and how he might’ve done them if only he could gather the strength to.

“Nothing?”

“Nothin’.”

“That’s impossible,” you laughed, using your arm to prop yourself up until you were looking down on him. His eyes followed you curiously, and yours trailed down the buttons of his charcoal colored pourpoint. The garment was tight-fitting, hugging the man’s strapping frame. When your eyes reached his belt, you ripped your gaze away, back to his face. “How can one not think? I’m always thinking.”

“Just… wasn’t thinkin’ about anythin’ in particular. What were you thinkin’ about, then, princess?”

You.

“Well, lots of things, like how it’s dangerous for us to be out here.”

“No shit,” he snickered playfully. Though you’d never really heard such language used in front of you before, you found it quite amusing when the knight cursed.

“I mean, with the Saviors… Surely you’ve heard of them.”

“Mm, heard some talk about it.”

You wished you could've been so blissfully unaware enough to say you’d only heard “some talk.” You wondered just what kind of talk he’d heard, and if he knew of Negan’s plans. Only three nights ago had the king confirmed your worst fears, and it plagued your mind more than it had since the first you heard of it. That reminded you… At some point today, you’d have to work up the courage to ask the knight to be your bodyguard. Just how on Earth were you going to do that?

“What did you hear?”

He felt the shiver in your voice, but it didn’t seem to be from the cold wind or raindrops. It came from inside you, and now, he grew a little worried, as if you knew something he didn’t. He sat up slowly, almost cautiously. “Not much, just that the constable was strengthening Alexandria’s defenses in case of an attack. Why? Did you hear something more?”

“Well… Yes. There’s more.” As you debated on whether or not to tell him of what troubled you so, you felt a tightening around your body. Daryl’s gloved hands were wrapping you more snugly in his cloak, to which you raised your head and smiled up at him. Without any words between you, he met your gaze, and offered a slight smile in return. “Thank you.”

“You seem cold…” he replied quickly, trailing off before clearing his throat. “And sad.”

Actually, you were quite warm, but it was the sadness, and the fear, inside you that made you shiver. “I’m a bit melancholy. I… do not know if I should tell you what troubles me.”

He chewed his bottom lip while his brows furrowed in concentrated thought. He had to tread this territory carefully, knowing his position. Status dictated everything, from the food one ate to the clothes on one’s back. Despite how close he felt to you now, he couldn’t risk knowing too much of what he wasn’t entitled to know. But, then again, he’d already broken almost every rule in the book, all for your sake. If he decided that he could break yet another rule, just to alleviate the sadness in your heart, he’d find a way to forgive himself.

“Princess,” he said, the reiteration of your title having become somewhat of an affectionate pet name for you, now that most verbal social niceties were extinct between you two. “I don’t wanna… stick my nose where it don’t belong, but, if I may… You should know that you can tell me anything.”

“I can?” you replied, relief lighting up your face even at the idea of finally being able to tell someone of your worries. When you recalled the contents of what you were about to tell him, the color drained from your visage.

He only could focus on a few of the keywords, but they were the ones that melded together to fill his heart with dread—Sir Negan… demanding… hand in marriage.

No, was his first thought, and it slowly morphed into a whirlwind of dizzied pleas that bounced off the walls of his head, directed towards whatever unseen force directed the universe and made his worst dream come true. For you to leave, to be taken against your will and to see the real evils of this world, that was something he hadn’t been able to quite fathom, though it plagued his mind whenever he remembered the risk of developing these feelings for you. He should’ve known all along that as soon as he allowed his inescapable tenderness for you to invade every nook and cranny of his heart, he’d have to face some kind of ache much greater than his fear of his affections going unrequited. No, this was much worse. The prospect of you getting hurt was beyond any other pain.

“But my father won’t let it happen,” you added, only slightly abating his worries. Still, he knew about men like this. They’d stop at nothing to get what they want, especially in a world where it’s just too easy to take. “But Sir Negan’s threats terrify me. I… wonder if it would be better for the kingdom, to spare so many lives, for my father to just—”

“No,” he interjected. “No, that’s not an option.”

As always, you were amused by his sudden boldness. “I do not want the kingdom to fall because of my father’s pride.”

“It’s not pride,” he replied. Never in a million years did he think he’d defend the decision of a monarch, and yet, here he was. “It’s the right thing to do. He loves you. No one should ever just give away someone they love.”

And then it hit him, his lips hanging open ever so slightly, chapped against the cold wind. Like the Red Sea, his mind diverged into two disparate voices, one that seemed to be his own, the other, some much more chivalrous caricature of himself.

First, his own voice choked out: I love you.

The farcical knight replied, Shut your mouth, you lecherous fopdoodle. No you do not.

Yes, I do.

No, you do not. Lust. Do not lust in your heart after her beauty or let her captivate you with her eyes.

If you spit another useless bible verse at me, I’ll drill a hole in my head.

And, in a matter of milliseconds, the voice left, with only Daryl’s own inner voice there to come to terms with what his feelings really meant.

I won’t let anyone have her.

With night came the usual routine—Daryl thought of some distraction to occupy the guards before he escorted you back to your chambers. This time, his cautiousness led him to latch your windows shut himself, and to leave a freshly sharpened knife upon your bedside table.

It only reminded you again of what you’d yet to ask of him.

“Daryl?” you said, halting him in his tracks just as he was about to take his leave. “May I ask something of you, if I haven’t asked too much of you already?”

Before he turned back to face you, he smiled sweetly to himself, a smile he had to hide from you, lest he seem too eager to serve you, but, oh, he was. He lived to serve you now. Not the duke, not the king, not even God—not anyone else but you.

“Yes, milady?” he replied formally. It almost threw you for a loop, the way he could swing so effortlessly between decorum and familiarity. “And don’t give me another shiny thing.”

Actually, you weren’t even sure if you had any more shiny things to give to him, since you’d given him a different piece of jewelry each time he returned you home safely. “No,” you replied with a chuckle under your breath. “It isn’t that. I actually wanted to ask… Well, my father says I must choose someone to be my personal bodyguard, and…” Swallowing hard, you shrugged your shoulders as a girlish bashfulness overcame you. Unbecoming behavior for a princess, your etiquette instructor would’ve said. “You make me feel safe.”

The voice inside his head returned for a split second, just to frantically reiterate what he’d said earlier: I love you I love you I love you I—

“And I know you’ve done so much for me already that it’s terribly ungracious of me to ask you to do such a thing, and you are under absolutely no obligation to say yes, but—”

“I’ll be your bodyguard.” Indeed, he was sure he would not be able to handle the idea of any other man protecting you in such a... thorough way.

“Oh?” You sighed as the tightness escaped from your diaphragm. “Oh, Daryl, thank you. I don’t think I could ever repay you for anything you’ve done for me.” But how you wished you could, in ways that your innocent mind couldn’t have even fully fathomed. Your heart and your body, however, knew all too well.

“You don’t owe me anything,” he said bluntly. “You don’t owe anyone anything.”

But you could still give him something. Not jewelry, but something that symbolized much more than that.

The sparkle of the flame that reflected against the steel of the knife upon your bedside table attracted your attention as your mind instructed you to cross the room and take the blade in your hands. Strange, you’d never held a knife before. Well, only steak knives.

“What the hell are you doin’?” asked the knight. “I said I’d do it.”

“I am not going to kill you, sir,” you laughed, crossing back over to him with your other arm outstretched, the long, flared sleeve of your scarlet houppelande hanging most elegantly before him. “Hold my sleeve, if you please.”

The knight’s gaze turned characteristically suspicious, with narrowed eyes studying your almost mischievous face. After all, you’d never done anything like this before. “Why?”

“Just hold my sleeve… Keep it steady.”

Cautiously, he took the end of the fabric between his calloused fingers. It was soft, like everything about you. Luxurious silk of this kind was truly hard to come by, and he almost feared he’d ruin it just with one touch.

As you raised your dominant hand, the one that held the knife, he began to worry. “Careful with that thing,” he said, following the blade with his eye as you raised it to your sleeve, just below your arm. His confusion at your actions was overwhelmed by his irrational fear that you’d cut yourself.

As the long vermillion shard of your sleeve fell to the floor, he nearly let out a gasp. “Now why the hell did you do that, woman? This some kind of new fashion statement?”

“No!” you laughed, bending over to retrieve the fallen garment. With the knife now replaced on your nightstand, your delicate fingers worked to fold the piece of fabric into a triangular shape. Despite his suspicions, he didn’t dare assume he knew what you were doing, until he did. “Ahem… Sir Daryl of House Dixon, oh gallant knight, will you accept this favor, and be my champion?”

If he hadn’t been frozen in awe and confusion, he might’ve laughed at your sudden formality, but you seemed serious. “What?”

That response almost stripped you of all your shaky confidence. Almost. “Have you never accepted a lady’s favor?”

Never been given one.

“I, uh… Why?”

“Why what?” you laughed.

“Why are you giving this to me?”

You rolled your eyes, as to you it was obvious. Who else would you give a favor to? Besides, he was the only knight you knew well enough to do so.

“Because a lady always bestows her favor upon her favorite knight.”

He swore he could feel every nerve in his body twitch and tighten with every second he replayed that word in his mind. Favorite. He was sure that in all his life, he’d never been anyone’s favorite anything.

“So, will you accept?”

Words were never the knight’s strong suit. At times, he found actions to be much easier for him to communicate through, and this seemed to be one of those times.

He wasn’t sure of the official ceremony, or if there even was one, but he was already a bit weak in the knees anyway, so he decided to let himself kneel before you, hand held out to accept your favor.

Only three words persisted in his head when you delicately bestowed the red sleeve upon his palm: I love you.

Thanks for reading! Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated!

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wisecrackingeric-2 · 10 months

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Death Island Spoiler-Free Thoughts post!!!

I JUST finished seeing DI last night (In Aotearoa) and oh my GOD???????? It was S O G O O D????????? It ABSOLUTELY lived up to my expectations!!!!!!!! I’m gonna do a spoiler-free thoughts post first and then I’ll post my spoilers post!!!!!! And if anybody wants any clips of the movie I managed to sneak in, please just ask!!

Ok first off,,, holy FUCK that beginning was S O tense. My friend and I were gripping our seats the entire time and it takes place during a pretty important moment in RE history and I think people are gonna LOVE it

And the villains motivations????? His backstory???????? LITERALLY HEARTBREAKING. It’s ACTUALLY GENUIENLY COMPELLING AND INTERESTING. His backstory is all laid out in that beginning scene and dear GOD it’s SO SAD. I’m trying to keep it Spoiler-Free obviously but I will D I E on the hill that him and his “best friend” were actually gay lovers. You CANNOT convince me otherwise

He was also just genuinely pretty frightening of a villain. He has this one repeated ‘motion’ he does throughout the movie that really makes you tense up, and there’s this one scene with a doctor character that had my friend and I on the edge of our seats

Again, his motivations were actually interesting and made sense!!!!!! And him calling out the main gangs respective organisations (BSAA, DSO, Government, Terrasave, etc etc) for being hypocrites was actually a compelling argument!!!!!!!!! It actually made the characters think!!

I’m trying to word this as best as I can without giving any of the plot away, and @highball66 has talked about this in their posts too, but throughout the movie the main gang are called ‘Pawns’ or ‘The Governments Weapons’ repeatedly quite a lot, and it makes me wonder if that’s gonna come up as an important plot point in a future game or something???? It’s very interesting to think about coupled with the implications of their respective organisations being hypocrites

You’ll all be delighted to know there is SO MUCH shipping content in this movie my GOD. S O many good Chreon moments. So many good Valenfield (for both siblings) and Chamberfield moments (in fact, every scene Rebecca’s in, Claire’s in there too :)) Shippers will have a BLAST

Just as expected, Jill and Leon are the PERFECT duo. They’re SUCH GOOD BESTIES, they work off of each other repeatedly SO WELL. They’re constantly giving each other silly goofy one-liners and saying something sarcastic to make the other one laugh, it’s great

Also, I don’t think Leon has a single serious line in this movie HXNSHDNDHXN everytime he’s on screen he’s ALWAYS saying something goofy or silly or making a pun. It’s GREAT

Also, the characters traumas actually get explored in an interesting and compelling way!!!!!!!! ESPECIALLY Jills!!!! Which makes sense cuz the movies about her, but they all get their moments to talk about how X event effected them etc etc, unfortunately none of it really gets resolved but I’m assuming they’re saving that for a future game

Jill’s kinda does???? She has a Good-For-Her moment with the villain which is fantastic and her and Chris have a good heart to heart at the end

Also, Chris Redfield fans are gonna be delighted with his character exploration in this movie

LOTS of references to Re2 & 3. In fact a BIG plot point/ motivator of the movie all stems from RE2, so Raccoon City fans are gonna have a blast!!!!!

Also, HEAPS of old characters are either mentioned or do actually show up!!!!! Nobody that I think anyone would be screaming to be excited about, but still!!

Unfortunately, Rebecca does get the exact same treatment as she did in Vendetta, but like, in the opposite direction…… she dissapeares for basically the entire movie and randomly shows up to save the day. I can’t complain though cuz seeing her work together with everyone else was FANTASTIC

This truly did feel like the avengers endgame of the RE movies, but there were also PLENTY of hints and open ends to a sequel

Finally, this truly was JILLS movie. When I was told that Jill was gonna be the main character I wasn’t really convinced, but M A N she truly SLAYS in this film. She IS THE MOMENT. This is HER movie and it shows

Aside from Leon’s random goofy one liners, I think my favourite part of this movie was the villain. I WISH I could just spoil his motivations in this post because for resident evil standards they’re SO INTERESTING and AGAIN, his thoughts on the main gangs respective organisations leave a lot to think about when it comes to future instalments!!!!!

10/10 movie, would 10000000% recommend. Truly lives up to my standards. My only negative is that Rebecca was hardly in it for the middle half but that’s it. SO glad we FINALLY got to see everyone working together (Capcom, PLEASE put your characters together like this again!!!!!!)

Forgot to add this, but Jill is cannonically a Jurassic Park fan. In fact, the entire last half of the movie is just a giant Jurassic Park reference

And I can’t PROVE this, but,,,,,, I’m 90% sure there was a Mr Beast reference. You’ll know it when you see it

#resident evil #resident evil death island #re death island #death island #re leon #re leon kennedy #leon s Kennedy #leon kennedy #re chris #chris redfield #re rebecca #rebecca chambers #re jill #jill valentine #re claire #claire redfield #valenfield #chamberfield #chreon

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mickey-gomez · 6 months

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Chapter 9 of Fade Into You

Warnings: Word crimes, thesaurus crimes, soft smut, fluff.

Pairing: Rita/Reader

A/N: Picks up directly after chapter 8. It's a little long sorry. I tried to write it the best way I could to describe what it feels like when you're hopelessly in lust with someone. But it's a little muddled. It wouldn't let me put a chapter title/header in, so idk, I guess it's untitled? Also I strongly dislike the series title, so if anyone has an idea for a new title please let me know.

I have most of this series written in dribs and drabs on a big working doc, but I don't really have a structure, so therefore I don't know how to connect it all yet. Also I don't think I'm very good at writing smut, and it sort of intimidates me. So it's hard to update more frequently because I overthink it and constantly rewrite.

The two of you performed a delicate dance throughout the week, hidden glimpses as you passed one another in the halls, fleeting and restrained touches as you slipped past each other in doorways, lingering looks shared in an office wide meeting.

You caught her gaze once more as you walked past her out of the meeting, walking in the opposite direction, rounding the corner of a dimly lit hallway, the soft glow of the wall sconces illuminating your path, casting shadows as they danced across your features.

You leant against the wall, nearing the exit, as you waited. And for a brief moment, you considered giving up, with the thought that she hadn’t followed you, or had gotten caught up in conversation, then you saw her out of the corner of your eye.

You ran your eyes over her as she approached you, her long, warm and rich brown hair cascading down her back, her tailored suit that clung to her in all the right places, and the faint smile that tugged at the corners of her lips.

“Hi” she said in a low, husky voice, as she stood in front of you.

“Hi” you replied, your voice a little breathless.

You both stood there for a moment, your eyes locked in a silent exchange that spoke volumes. You felt a rush of heat spread through your body as you watched her gaze flicker down and then back up again. The attraction between the two of you was undeniable, and it hung in the air like a tangible force.

“Are you free on Friday evening?” Rita asked, breaking the silence, though her voice still held that seductive tone.

You nodded, or at least you thought you had, your words momentarily escaping you, before realising you hadn’t actually spoken or given her an answer. “Maybe, why?” you eventually answered.

“Rafa, against my many protests, has organised farewell drinks with some of the other staff at Whiskey Tavern.”

“That place is so not your scene.” You were right about that part, but you knew Rafael had most likely organised drinks there because it was a block away from the office, it was cheap and a pretty popular bar amongst the young District Attorney’s office staff. Exactly the sort of place that Rita would never be caught dead in.

“I know, but at least they have halfway decent scotch.” She took a step closer, closing some of the distance between you, her fingers brushing against your arm, the touch sending shivers down your spine.

“Plus you can’t really call yourself a New Yorker unless you’ve made out in their photo booth.” your eyes shone as you said it, and her gaze dropped down to your lips once more. She leaned in, just slightly, as if she was testing the waters. “I’ll see you on Friday” you whispered next to her ear as your cheeks brushed together, and you slid out from between her and the hallway.

You pushed open the heavy wooden door, the soft ambient hum of conversation greeted you. Warm, dim lights bathed the room, revealing a mess of weathered wooden tables, each one crowded with company, and littered with peanut shells.

“Got stuck at the precinct, sorry I’m late.” you said brightly as you approached the table.

“Hey!” Rafael’s eyes widened as he greeted you excitedly, standing from the table to embrace you in a friendly, but hasty hug. “Sorry I haven’t had a chance to say hello at the office yet.”

“Don’t be sorry” you touched his arm and smiled sincerely “So, will we see you at Thanksgiving again this year? You know, to protect Rita from the wolves?” you teased and he grinned, from a mix of liquor and playful amusement.

“I think my mom would probably beat me senseless, if I missed another year.”

Across the table, Rita sat relaxed in her chair, her fingers tracing the rim of her glass. Her hair was pinned back with her natural waves flowing down over her shoulders, and her hazel eyes framed by dark lashes, locked onto you with an intensity that made her almost impossible to ignore.

Your eyes finally met, and a jolt of electricity seemed to pass between you both. The air thickened with anticipation as your gaze held for a moment too long. Rita’s lips curled into a knowing smile, as your heart raced just a little faster.

You tore your eyes away before it became apparent to everyone at the table that there was palpable tension between you both, saying a quick hello to people you didn’t quite recognise or remember, before offering to buy a round for the table, pointing at everyone one at a time as you memorised their order.

You settled into the open chair next to Rita’s after you dropped the tray of drinks into the middle of the table, leaving everyone to reach for them, while you and Rita exchanged false pleasantries. Rafael introduced you to the group as you sat, and Rita’s hand moved to your thigh, out of sight, something reserved for the two of you.

The hours melted away as her peers continued to share stories and amusing secrets, while the two of you shared stolen glances, your connection growing stronger with each passing moment. The bar’s dim lights cast shadows on your faces, enhancing the intrigue of the situation.

And when the conversations seemed to pair off and you found yourself speaking directly to her, your conversation danced on the edge of intimacy as you exchanged stories, lingering touches, and smouldering glances. The playful banter masked your desires, but every word and gesture secretly revealed the simmering passion that threatened to consume both of you.

“Alright” you stood from your seat at the table, “Does anyone have a silver dollar?” you asked, holding your hand out flat and waving your fingers. One of them handed you the dollar out of their pocket, and after a thank you, you turned to Rita and tilted your head towards the opposite end of the bar. “You can’t leave the DA’s office without a memento.” you said with a glimmer in your eye, she knew almost immediately what you were alluding to, and so without hesitation, she followed you with intrigue.

As you both stepped inside the booth, the heavy curtain fell behind you, cocooning you in a private world of dimmed, flickering light. The soft hum of the booth’s machinery enveloped you, drowning out the noise of the crowded bar.

The camera counted down - three, two, one. The flash illuminated your faces, capturing a moment of shared vulnerability. And as it started to count down once more you both turned your heads, gazes heavy as they fell over one another’s lips, three, two, one. The flash went off and in that moment, you crashed together.

Your lips were greedy and you could taste the sugar that coated her tongue, a low moan escaped you and your arms wrapped around her shoulders, your fingers threading through her hair as you consumed one another.

Three, two, one. You both moved together, as the flash went off once more, your hands now scrambling for the others’ body, desperate to feel the touch of skin on skin.

“Do you want to get out of here?” she whispered against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You swallowed, hard, and nodded in response. With that, you both knew the night had just begun, and the tension that had been building between the two of you was about to ignite into a fiery passion that neither of you wanted to resist, finally feeling free after all these years.

Rita reached for your hips and you swung your leg over, fingers gripping onto her shoulders as you held yourself upright. She ran her hand along your cheek delicately, and her thumb traced along your lower lip, and as your swollen lips parted, you drew the digit in, encasing it and running your tongue over it. She was powerless not to moan at the sight, and ever so quick in arching her shoulders and craning her neck, exchanging her thumb’s place with her own tongue.

Rita reached down in between your bodies, her fingers moving through you, and into the pool of desire that awaited her, grinning at the wetness she found. Her thumb curled up to rub with intent over your clit, and you moaned into her mouth.

Your hands joined at the base of the toy, as you both lined it up with your entrance and you slowly sunk down, both of your gazes fixated on the sight of it, and you let out a shallow breath you’d been holding in your throat.

She felt the exact moment you relaxed and for a moment you were both still, your hips flush, eyes locked on one another. Until Rita gripped your hips and you rose up on your knees, as she drove a little further, a little harder, into you. Your eyes fell closed, and your mouth flew open and you went slack jawed. She shifted her hips slightly, allowing herself to feel the friction at the base of the strap, and the movement caused a loud moan to spill from your throat.

“Right there” you gasped, your nails raked down her back and she moaned in response, before reaching a hand around to deliver a sharp spank. The feeling of her hands on your skin, the soft contact, your chests pressed together, and breaths and moans fanning over skin, it all promised to overwhelm.

“Do that again.” you groaned, and instead of acting on your demand, she pinched you suddenly, and roughly on your inner thigh. You let out a high pitched whine and before you could even think to question her, you realised why she had done it. “Do that again, please.” you said slowly and deliberately, and you could almost hear her smirking with your eyes closed.

You moved your hands, one down to your clit and the other alternated across your chest, pinching and twisting. Her gaze followed your movements and she moaned as she watched you, feeling herself falling closer to the edge. She watched when your breathing started to become more erratic and frantic, and pulled your hand away from your clit, and you let out a loud whine, your eyes flying open, gazing down at her through hooded lids.

“Not yet” she said breathily, and you leaned back down to kiss her, your hands weaving around her neck. The kiss was a mess of teeth with little control or coordination, but it didn’t seem to bother either of you as you chased your peaks together.

She moved two of her fingers down to rub your clit, “Be a good girl and come for me”, and the combination of her words and her movements pushed you over the edge. When you came, your knees tightened against her hips and your back arched, right at the moment you heard her let out an almost feral sound.

Your tongues slid together lazily as you both came down from your highs, floating back. The room was filled with a serene stillness, a stark contrast to the frenzied passion that had just consumed you both.

Your hearts continued to race in tandem, gradually slowing down as you basked in the shared intimacy of the moment. You traced your fingertips gently along the curves of her body, your touch mirroring the depth of your own emotions, and everything left unsaid.

She raised her head up to look at you, her eyes filled with a soft, affectionate gaze. But it was fleeting, you noticed the moment she trapped her vulnerability from spilling further, and when the light in her eyes changed.

“Well that was a spectacular farewell.” she smirked and raised her eyebrows, and giggles erupted from both of you.

“You should quit every day.” and you both laughed

“You wanna go again?”

“Knees” you said, a mix of sighs and laughter.

Rita understood, and so she gently gripped your hips and shifted you both until you were on your back, with her on top of you, the heels of your feet resting against her back. She pulled all the way out and you groaned a little at the loss, and just as you went to ask for her to come back, she slid back in, with more force this time, and at a more intense pace.

The room was cast in a tranquil hush, the remnants of your night still lingered distantly in the air, the warm sheets and her arms enveloped you. Then the shrill and incessant ringing of your phone shattered the fragile peace, jarring you from your shared cocoon of intimacy.

You blindly reached for it, feeling around the nightstand until it was in your hand, holding it up to your ear as you whispered in conversation with the detective on the other end. Your voice still carried the remnants of sleep, and their words, a blend of apologies and urgency, rudely awakened you to a new day. Rita kissed your shoulder, as you hung up the phone, and you turned in her embrace to drop a chaste kiss against her lips.

“I have to go get a warrant” you whispered as you pulled back, and she let out a drowsy sigh in response, nestling into the pillow beneath her head, you smiled as you drank her in. Her tousled hair that spilled across the pillow like a dark river, and her eyelashes that cast delicate shadows on her cheeks. You traced your fingers along the contours of her face, marvelling at the peaceful expression that adorned her lips.

Reality, however, began to nudge at the edges of your cocoon of affection. Responsibilities beckoned, and the detectives in the world outside were awaiting your arrival.

“I can feel you staring”, she murmured, stirring as her eyes fluttered open, and a sleepy smile met yours.

“Can I borrow some clothes?” you hummed, the urgency of time bore down on you, as you tried to savour this precious moment, etching it into your memory.

“Only if you come back with breakfast” she teased, another smile tugging at the corner of her mouth as she fought to repress a yawn, “Bagels.”

You knocked softly on the car window, handing over the warrant to Fin as he wound down the window. “Brought you this as well” you smiled as you extended the coffee tray, he plucked one of the paper cups out with a thank you, as he stepped out of the car, and the two of you leaned against the doors, waiting on the other detectives and officers.

You looked off into the distance, taking in the city around you as it unveiled its quieter side. The occasional taxi hummed past, its yellow hue a vivid contrast to the still muted palette of dawn. A lone jogger, headphones in place, raced past you both, his feet pounding against the pavement, as if the sound was the slow heartbeat of the city, still in transition from the night’s revelry and the day’s responsibilities. Your mind cast back over the night, and you couldn’t help the involuntary smile that graced your features at the flashes of memories.

“You’re in a good mood.” Fin commented as he watched you, “You get laid last night?” and when you didn’t give him a verbal response, instead glancing down, a soft breath of laughter leaving you and your smile growing wider. He let out a low laugh, “Good for you.”, he commented with genuine candour. “Is it serious?”

“It’s all still relatively new, but it doesn’t feel new.” you reflected “It feels like we were always going to end up here. I don’t quite know how to describe it.”

“The two of you friends?” he asked, and you nodded softly.

“I don’t know if we were ever just friends though.” you murmured in thought, losing yourself in the threads of the past. “Sorry, I’m oversharing.” you shook your head, pulling yourself out of your own introspection.

“It’s cool.” he said without hesitation, and with authentic sincerity. “My old partner, back in Narcotics, was a woman. So, you can talk to me, if you want.” he tipped his head over to look at you “You’re part of the squad, we like you, you know? Stabler just has a hard way of showing it.”.

He was trying his hardest, and persisting through his stammering, to form a deeper connection with you. One that extended beyond the surface level of professionality that you all operated with.

“Thanks. I appreciate that.” You smiled at him, and put your hand on his shoulder for a brief minute, before the moment you were sharing was interrupted with the arrival of squad cars, and that same earlier responsibility beckoned.

You returned back to Rita’s, letting yourself in with her keys as you juggled the brown paper bags cradled in your arms. You carefully set everything down on the counter, and bent down to remove your shoes.

Quietly walking down the hall, you ran your hands over the bedroom door, gently prying it open. You watched her for a fleeting moment, the soft rise and fall of her chest, and the peaceful expression on her face as she slept soundly. You hesitated on whether or not to wake her, but before you could make your mind up, she stirred amongst the sheets.

You walked over to her side of the bed and gently brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, planting a soft kiss there. “Good morning” you whispered, keeping your voice as soft and gentle as the morning light streaming in through the curtains. “Breakfast is on the counter.”

“Where’d you go?” her eyes flickered open, and she rubbed at them, trying to remove the traces of sleep.

“Well first I went Russ & Daughters for the bagels and appetizers, then to Ray’s for beignets, and then I dropped by the newsstand on the corner to get you the paper.”

“Mm thank you” she murmured with a suppressed yawn, she sat up, the sheets pooling around her, as she ran her hands through her dishevelled hair. “Which Judge did you wake up?”

“Ridenour”

“I bet he was mad.” her eyes widened just slightly for a moment, and she held back her laughter.

“That’s… putting it politely.”

“Judge Taten lives about ten blocks from here, and isn’t as cranky, for future reference. She even puts on coffee, and sometimes she’ll give you pastries.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that four hours ago? I went all the way uptown!” you hit her arm as your face contorted in irritation, and you looked at her with your mouth agape.

“I was asleep.” she shrugged, but the brief glimpse of a smile gave her away, revealing it was far more likely she had deliberately withheld that information. Presumably for her own amusement at the thought of you uncaffeinated, with a throbbing headache after a night of drinking and sex, being shouted at and scolded while she slept soundly.

She climbed out of bed, stretching out her arms and rolling the muscles in her neck as she suppressed a yawn. When she walked into her wardrobe, your eyes were glued to the back of her.

“Follow me” she tied the belt of her robe tighter around her waist, and beckoned you with one finger.

You did as she commanded and followed her down the hall and into what you presumed was her office, glancing around the room briefly as she unlocked her desk drawer and pulled out a worn leather notebook.

“This is my black book” she closed the drawer and turned back to you, holding the item in both hands, looking at you expectantly.

“Okay..?” you looked back at her confused, your eyes narrowing and your expression motionless.

“Let me rephrase.” she smiled as she looked away for a moment, then back to you. “This is a notebook with every sitting judge’s name, phone number, address. As well as the names and phone numbers of their clerks and assistants. There’s also notes under each Judge, their kid’s names, pets, hobbies, political affiliations, and so on.” She raised an eyebrow as she took in your reaction.

“How did you get this?” your eyes went wide and your mouth opened, almost in disbelief. It was a secret roadmap, one that would help you not only pick and choose which judge to grant you a warrant, but also how to pander to them in court and build up rapport with them; she was giving you the keys to winning.

“I didn’t ‘get’ it, I made it.” she scoffed “It took me a couple of years which is why-”

“Gimme” you reached for it, snatching, almost childlike, and she pulled it back, staring at you with a stern but amused expression.

“-Which is why, I have never ever shared its contents.”

“But… you’re now going to share it?... With me?” you spoke slowly, tilting your head to the side, trying to ascertain her intentions.

“You may borrow it for one week, to copy it and to make your own. But you are not to share it with anyone else, and I expect it back this Friday.” She slowly extended it, and right as you reached for it she pulled it back, and you looked back to her. “And you now owe me.” She smirked, knowing you had no choice but to agree to that term.

“I hardly think that’s fair considering I just brought you breakfast.” you rolled your eyes, and she went to put it back into her desk drawer until you snatched it. “Fine! Fine. I owe you.”

“And?” she looked at you expectantly.

“Thank you” you leaned in and kissed her, backing her into the desk. Your hands blindly reached for the tie on her robe, fingers gracelessly undoing the knot. “So this is how you always win.” you teased, whispering against her neck and you heard her scoff loudly before she smacked you.

“I always win because I’m the best.” she mumbled, her breath catching in her throat as your fingers swept over her stomach, tickling her.

“Yes, yes you are.” you murmured as you sunk down onto your knees, winking at her as you pulled her leg onto your shoulder.

Taglist: @storiesofsvu @imlike-so-gay-dude @wannabe-fic-reader @alexusonfire @momlifebehard @annegilletteslostwh0r3 @drduckthief @giftedchildturns40 @holycrapraewth @when-wolves-howl @ladysc @itwasrealtome @fanfictionfangirl04 @upsidedowndanvers @jetaimedarling @red1culous @daddy-heather-dunbar @svushots

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#rita calhoun x reader #rita calhoun #svu fanfic #svu fanfiction #wlw fanfic #l&o: svu #law and order special victims unit #law and order svu #prequel series #reader insert #x reader #my fic writing #this is terrible ok thanks bye

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amethystina · 11 days

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You mentioned in your notes at the end of the chapter for 'Each Touch (Brings Us One Step Closer)' about how Yo Han had some reason for wanting some distance between him and Ga On at the end of the show and not wanting to explain your thoughts there and go on the tangent. Can you go into it here then? I love your tangents and explanations.

Also just want to say thank you so much for that chapter, it's incredible! It always amazes me how you can write the characters so accurately. It's definitely something to keep us going after the slow burn of Who Holds the Devil

I feel like I may have accidentally blue-balled some of you with that throwaway comment and I promise that wasn't my intention x'D But sure, I can elaborate :)

So! The thing with the final scene of the drama is that it's clearly shaped by the choices of the scriptwriter and/or the director. As in, certain aspects of it had less to do with the characters and more to do with production. They wanted to give Yo Han and Ga On one final scene together, to give the viewer hope and a nice, proper ending, but their options were... limited, I guess we could say?

And there are a couple of reasons for that. One is that there are still a lot of unspoken things between Yo Han and Ga On. Like lingering hurt from the betrayal, the fact that Yo Han faked his death a second time despite probably knowing how upset that would make Ga On, Ga On's somewhat concerning readiness to die (twice in one day, no less), the whole thing with the fire that they never actually got to discuss etc.

In short, there's a lot they should talk about. But there's no time — the drama is over. So while showing them having a conversation and actually reconciling would be nice, it's just not possible. They'll have to gloss over that bit and just rely on the emotional catharsis of seeing those two idiots stare longingly at each other for a couple of seconds (or surprisingly many seconds, in this case).

Which, to their credit, works really well. I was very satisfied once that scene was over. But it's not like it actually fixes anything, you know? Like, the trauma is still there. Just because Yo Han smiles at Ga On, does that mean he's forgiven the almost-murder?

I've actually gotten questions (bordering on accusations), asking why I ruined that lovely ending scene by making it so that they haven't reconciled at the beginning of Who Holds the Devil. But, like, they didn't reconcile. That scene was lovely, make no mistake, but they didn't actually solve anything. I agree that they showed their deep connection and fondness for each other, but you can have that and also still be mad about that one time your sugar baby tried to stab you in the heart. They're not mutually exclusive.

Since they don't talk, I'm going to have to assume they haven't fully reconciled.

(I don't actually mind that the drama didn't have time to solve this, I want to point out, since that just made me more eager to write Who Holds the Devil and do it for myself. So don't think I'm dissatisfied or anything — quite the opposite. I was amazed by how much we got, in a drama that's supposedly straight. It was so much more than I would ever have dared to hope for.)

The second reason the creators' choices were limited was the fact that, should they actually give Yo Han and Ga On time to talk — or touch — it might just turn out to be too gay. Or, alternatively, they'd have to make it so obviously not gay (to avoid censoring) that it would have ruined all their hard work and subtle build-up. Sometimes, not saying anything is better than saying too much. Sometimes, the easiest way to keep everyone happy is to just leave it as open for interpretation as possible and claim plausible deniability in both directions.

But it can't be denied that outside forces influenced that ending. @a-very-fond-farewell said it very aptly in their comment on Each Touch, by pointing out that had Ga On been a woman, that final scene would have looked very different. It would have been somewhere where Yo Han and Ga On could actually speak to each other, maybe hug, or perhaps go even further depending on the story/dynamic. And I'm in absolute agreement, which is why I wrote the ending to Each Touch the way I did.

That scene is, if you ask me, closer to what should have happened, if they'd been able to follow through on the tone and dynamic they'd set for this drama.

But, again, they couldn't. Partly due to time restrictions and, secondly, due to censoring issues. So we end up with a scene that takes place in a public space, so they can't really talk, can't really touch, but still, somehow, convey their love and longing for each other. Which, all things considered, still left me feeling pretty damn happy.

NOW. Even if we know that the setting for that scene (i.e. in a public place) has more to do with production reasons, there still has to be a reason for it in-universe. As in, to make it make sense in the canon of the story, we have to pretend that the choice was actually made by a character (Yo Han, in this case, since he's the one choosing when to approach Ga On) and not by the scriptwriter and/or director. And this sort of ties back a bit to that long rant I did about intent, because here we have a situation where the intent of the scene is to give closure, but outside factors mean that the presentation and execution of said closure might not actually be in harmony with the characters.

Like, let's make a thought experiment here. Imagine that there were no censoring issues. Imagine that there were no time restrictions. Everything in the drama still happens the way it does, right up until the hearing.

Do you really think that Yo Han, as you know him, would have chosen to approach Ga On in the way he did during that final scene? In a public place, where he can't actually talk to him?

Because I don't.

At least not with the information the drama gives me. Yo Han is a Dramatic Bitch, I know, and he's not always willing to talk about his trauma. But a month has passed. He's had time to think. He's had time to miss Ga On. And then he travels all the way to South Korea, just for that? Just to stare at Ga On? Without talking to him? When Yo Han is known for meeting every obstacle head-on? When he's clearly still very attached to Ga On? And, quite frankly, a very possessive person? Would he truly just leave like that? Without a word?

It just doesn't make sense.

So, as much as I like that ending scene and understand that it had to be the way it is due to various outside factors, it's also pretty out of character for Yo Han (she says boldly, as if she has any claim to say what's reasonable or not for a character she hasn't created).

Now, this still doesn't make the scene bad, but it does put us fans in the hilarious position of having to come up with a reason for why Yo Han might have done what he did, when the act itself kind of feels out of character. We have to find a motivation for something that doesn't actually make all that much sense. What reason could he possibly have had to act that way?

And me being the little shit that I am, will of course take this as an opportunity to come up with whatever batshit theory I please. Since, in the long run, it probably won't make much sense anyway since I'm basing it on actions that, in my opinion, are out of character to begin with.

I think Yo Han was scared.

I think Kang "The Abyss" Yo Han was too scared to talk to Ga On.

Because, as I mentioned in another ask I got about when Yo Han fell in love with Ga On, I think he realised it during that month between the explosion and the hearing. Because he got some distance, some time to calm down, some time to miss Ga On etc. And so I think Yo Han went back to Korea and maybe he actually planned to talk to Ga On (or hadn't decided) but then just... chickened out. Because he now knows he's in love and has no idea how to deal with that fact. Especially since he's still a little hurt over the betrayal and doesn't know what Ga On feels about the whole thing. Is Ga On still mourning Soo Hyun? Is Ga On even interested in men? Or, perhaps worst of all:

What if this month away from Yo Han's influence has made Ga On realise he was being manipulated and gaslit and now he doesn't want anything to do with Yo Han?

So, in short, I think Yo Han simply wasn't ready. He went there too soon, realised what a bad idea it was, but still wanted to at least see Ga On and maybe give them both some kind of closure (and maybe also try to figure out if Ga On hates him now). And hence the meeting being in a public place, so that Yo Han wouldn't have to have a conversation he wasn't ready for, because he wasn't sure how to talk to Ga On with all the lingering trauma and this new knowledge about his own feelings.

It was a choice Yo Han made to protect himself.

A choice he doesn't make in Each Touch because, in that story, he's been given enough proof of Ga On's interest to not have to worry as much. Interest Ga On showed before Soo Hyun died, which means it wasn't just a weird grief response, and so Yo Han doesn't feel as threatened by her. He's confident enough about his own and Ga On's feelings that he's actually willing to meet and talk with him.

And that's my theory! :D

Thank you so much to you both for asking 💜 Though I also feel a need to point out that this is, as always, mere speculation on my part — even more so than usual in this case, for the reasons stated above. And while I am thrilled (and proud) to hear that so many of you think that my opinions are accurate and very close to canon, always remember that it's okay to disagree with me. I don't have all the answers, even if I might make it sound like I do. I'm genuinely just guessing x'D

Anyhow! Thank you again! I'm so happy that you both enjoyed my fic and were curious enough to ask about this. You're both wonderful 💜

#Amethystina Writes #Anonymous #Times two!#... I'm soon going to need a spreadsheet to keep track of all of my rants x'D #And how they connect to each other #It's a spiderweb of meta commentary #Because I can't do things the easy was I guess #In all honesty #I don't think this theory is all that controversial #The hardest part would be to make Yo Han admit to it #Because he doesn't have weaknesses and all that #(except Ga On of course)#(but he technically never admitted to that either)#(it was just shoved in his face)

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midnightstargazer · 6 months

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One thing I like about the idea of Regulus & Barty as friends is that their arcs are basically the exact opposite of each other.

They both come from old, upper-class pure-blood families, but ones that are, in many ways, very different. The Crouches stand for Ministry corruption and hypocrisy, with Barty Sr. breaking the law and using the Dark Arts in secret but making a big show of being law-abiding and respectable. Meanwhile, you just have to walk into Grimmauld Place to get an idea of what sort of people live there.

Their reasons for joining the Death Eaters, at least in my headcanon, are opposites as well. I see Regulus as trying to prove himself as a worthy heir and make his family proud. (I will die on the hill of Arcturus being horrified, but that's not really relevant to Reg's motives). Barty, on the other hand, I think was motivated largely by rebellion against his father. Almost like sort of a dark mirror to Sirius.

There's a window of time during their Hogwarts years where it's easy to imagine them being very similar. They both have family issues, although not of the same sort. Personality-wise, I think they would both be rule followers and serious students. Barty almost certainly was - he earned twelve O.W.L.s, and his father talks about being proud of him in that scene where he's lost touch with reality and thinks his son is still a Hogwarts student. For Regulus, it's more headcanon, but I think it works well in terms of contrasting him with Sirius (troublemaker, clever but not studious) and fits with his established personality as the "much better son" according to their parents.

I like to imagine Regulus recruiting Barty into the Death Eaters. Barty clearly must have been put in touch with them via his peers at school, because it definitely wasn't through his family. Regulus is close to him in age (about a year older) and definitely has the right connections. Also, neither of them are named as members of Snape's gang, which makes it seem even more likely to me that they would have been friends with each other, because otherwise who exactly was influencing Barty in that direction? And it's kind of poetic to think that the guy who eventually turned on Voldemort and tried to destroy a Horcrux was the one who recruited the guy whose actions made it possible for Voldemort to return.

Which brings me to what I was saying before about opposite trajectories. Regulus was born into a family that wholeheartedly embraced everything the Death Eaters stood for, but his last action was to try to ensure Voldemort's eventual defeat. Barty was born into a family that staunchly opposed the Dark Arts and the Death Eaters, but he turned out to be one of Voldemort's most loyal followers.

I like that contrast between where they started out and where they ended up. I like the part in the middle where their paths might have intersected. If Regulus survives - because let's face it, I write a lot of fanfic where he survives - I like the idea of them continuing to go in opposite directions but still having that aspect of "we used to be friends."

#Regulus Black #Barty Crouch Jr.#meta #marauders era

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willel · 2 years

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Unfortunately, I still hear whispers saying "People just copy all of El's traits onto Will" and it bothers me endlessly. YOU DON'T GET IT. AT ALL. And you'll probably never read this, but I'm going to type it out anyway.

The point is NOT to copy El's traits onto Will! The point is that Will ALREADY has a lot in common with El! TVTropes is not an official source, but have you looked at their trait list? They've been mirror each other since season 1! Their similarities only become more obvious as each season progresses.

Let's look at some and you tell me if it's really that ridiculous to point out how similar they are.

Beware the Nice Ones: Will is a polite, sweet kid. However, the very first episode shows that when he was threatened by an unknown entity, he immediately ran into a shed to load a gun, and then point it in the direction of said entity. Beware the Nice Ones: Her sweet natured and mellow personality is genuine, but so is the fiery temper she has deep down; push her too far and this girl will not hesitate to melt your brain with a literal Death Glare. Also overlaps with Beware the Quiet Ones.

Does "Beware the Nice Ones" seem ridiculous to you? Does this seem like something someone just made up for the sake of ships or to copy El's traits onto Will? If you want to get logical here, Will's example came before El's did in the show, not that it matters because IT ISN'T COPYING, it's just similar.

Heroic Sacrifice: His D&D character, "Will the Wise", performs a heroic sacrifice during their game in the first episode, a fact which Mike uses to convince his friends to continue the search for Will even when it gets dangerous. He was also willing to die in order to close the gate on the Mind Flayer. Heroic Sacrifice: In "The Upside-Down", El, already exhausted from repeated use of her powers to protect Mike, Lucas, and Dustin, finds herself faced with the Demogorgon about to kill her friends. In response, she pins it against a wall before disintegrating it, but seemingly dies herself in the process. She's Not Quite Dead, though, and returns in Season 2.

They both made a pretty important heroic sacrifice, thinking they were giving up their lives to help their friends and family. Are we gonna pretend like they DIDN'T do that? Even Hopper has his heroic sacrifice moment. We gonna pretend like he didn't because it'd be "copying El"???

Daddy's Girl: She becomes this in Season 2 to Hopper after a year living together, some healthy, plentiful bickering, and her going "runaway-train" on him. When he ends up (apparently) dying in Season 3, she is utterly devastated. Momma's Boy: If having your head screwed-on enough to survive what he goes through, partly thanks to how Joyce has raised him to keep going in a physical and emotional crisis by seeking support, is being a Momma's Boy, then his dad is right.

Season 2 played these tropes so clearly. Every scene that Joyce had with Will was pretty much mirrored with Hopper and El. You know what happens right after that scene where Joyce catches Will in a lie, gets him to confess, and has him crying in his arms? It switches right to Hopper being the opposite of Joyce and not handling the situation well, resulting in El tossing stuff around and crying in her room.

Even at the end of the season, we get Joyce hugging Will so tightly after that terrible ordeal. It's followed by El hugging Hopper after using all her strength to close the gate. Will and El are hugging their parents in the exact same way, on the same shoulder and everything. Guys please. IT'S NOT COPYING, IT'S ON PURPOSE.

Nice Guy: Even though Will spends most of Season 1 trapped in the Upside-Down, he is still shown to be an honest and kind person. Before his taking in the first episode, he admits to Mike that the former's roll landed on a seven and finished him off in their D&D game. When he's rescued and hospitalized near the end of Chapter 8, one of the first things he does when he wakes up is ask if his brother is okay when he sees Jonathan's bandaged hand. Nice Girl: She has a strong sense of right and wrong, even when she has been almost completely socially deprived for most of her life. She also lacks malicious intent and does her best to help and protect her friends, though she goes overboard a couple of times.

If anyone tries to argue Will and El aren't good sweet kids and that this is just "copying El", then you're just straight up completely wrong. They've always been nice, good, and sweet. BOTH OF THEM. Yes, they have their moments, but so does literally everyone else.

The Quiet One: Not to the same extent as El, but he's definitely on the quiet side. The only times he talks at length are when he's around his closest friends and family or when he's being asked about the Mind Flayer; otherwise, he usually hangs back and lets other people do the talking. The Quiet One: Given her upbringing, she's a quiet girl, usually talking only when spoken to and during times of conflict, often preferring hand gestures to get her point across. She's more vocal in Season 2, which in no small part seems to be due to being around Hopper for nearly a year and picking up a lot more vocabulary from him. By the beginning of Season 3, Eleven can talk like a normal girl her age, though she tends toward the terse side, and she sometimes struggles with pronunciation. However, she struggles to articulate herself when stressed, and nearly becomes mute when interrogated by police in Season 4 which… does not help her case with them.

Like... come on. Are you really about to pretend like Will and El aren't the super quiet ones of the group??? You really think this is just "copying El's traits onto Will"??

Trauma Conga Line

Not even gonna copy and paste that one, it's two long for both of them and UNDENIABLY TRUE FOR BOTH.

Unwitting Instigator of Doom

Another undeniably fact that they both caused some oopsies with the Upside Down shennanigans. First it was El. Then it was Will. Then it's El again in season 4. Who knows, maybe it'll switch back to Will again. Either way, IT APPLIES TO BOTH OF THEM and HAS applied to both of them since at least season 2.

For now, I will leave it there. I did not include all of them, nor do I feel inspired to compare the tropes that are very similar for the sake of this essay. I did it in the past and maybe I'll do it again in the future.

It's not a theory that they're similar. It's not something fans are doing because "misogyny" or "because ships". It's literal. It's official. This from the Duffers:

In the episode, Will unveils his painting from Volume 1 and explains the complexities of El and Mike's feelings for each other. To Mike, he's talking about Eleven (Millie Bobby Brown), but for Will, Jonathan (Charlie Heaton), and the audience, we can see that he's also talking about himself. The Duffer Brothers both wrote and directed these final two episodes, and through this scene, in particular, they use a variety of camera angles to create a sense of duality on top of Will's speech.

source: https://collider.com/stranger-things-season-4-will-byers-speech-car-scene-sexuality-duffer-brothers-comments/

Ignoring the shipping aspects of this (for the love of god PLEASE focus on the characters here), they are creating a duality between Will and El on purpose.

Will and El are MEANT to be similar, yes, even down to their love lives unfortunately. They have similar personalities. Similar interests. They're similar people, period.

Have you all never got invested in two character who are very similar interacting with each other or forming a familial bond??? Have you never enjoyed some found family??? Do you scoff at the idea of found siblings or not-actually-twins twins? Like???

I'm so confused how you see all these similarities between the characters and what they've gone through and you come away from that thinking, "You're just coping El" or "You just don't want to support a female character". ??????????

The point of them being similar is to BE SIMILAR TOGETHER. That requires TWO characters who are not identical, but SIMILAR ENOUGH.

Will and El HAVE similar trauma because of the Upside Down and the lab. Literally Will was so tired of the tests and questioning that he begged Joyce not to take him back after he that horrible experience in the field in episode 2. Even that wasn't enough to make him want to go back to that place where El was held captive for years and experienced the same stuff. Will KNOWS what it's like.

Will and El have similar personalities. We already discussed them above. Quiet. Kind. Self sacrificial. A little bit snarky when they want to be. Genuinely good kids who easily pass as siblings raised by the same mother. What, is El copying Will now cause she got some bowl cut bangs??? Of course not.

Will and El have/had similar parent dynamics. Season 2 did not spend all that time comparing and contrasting Joyce and Hopper's parenting styles for you to be like "You're just coping El and Hopper's bond." El and Hopper's bond isn't the same as Joyce and Will's bond, it's just similar! As for Hopper and Will, in season 1 and season 2 we saw Hopper step up as a protector and savior for Will, but obviously it's not quite like being a father for him. Still, it was cute that he called him "buddy", showed up to all their appointments at the lab, and carried him around while he was unconscious. Not to mention Will ALSO be paralleled with Sara in season 1 as Hopper and Joyce were trying to resuscitate him. 🙄. I almost take back what I said, Will and Hopper do have a connection, but it still isn't like El and Hopper's.

Will and El are BOTH tied to the Upside Down and the supernatural and have been since the beginning of the show. All of these similarities of theirs? All of it leads back to Henry Creel.

Yeah, I saw some people saying "You're copying El's connection to Henry!" Please sit down and listen.

Just because Will and Henry unfortunately met in 1983 does not suddenly erase all the events leading up to El yeeting Henry through that gate in 1979???? Do you think Will just took a dry erase board and washed all of that away???????? Don't you see how ridiculous that is???

It's CONFIRMED that Will and Henry are tied. We saw with our own eyes how El and Henry are tied. These three are a trifecta of crazy shenanigans that is finally coming to a head, but all you can think about is "They're just copying El"??? SIGH

The conclusion you should be drawing from this is not "Will is copying from El" or "Will is stealing her spotlight" or "If you like WillEl you're probably misogynist" or whatever else you're implying.

You should be realizing that Will is the backup and support El has always needed to defeat this uniquely powerful foe. Just her strength isn't enough to undo all the harm he has done. We've seen her strength and her power. It is unmatched.

But as Will once said, "Sometimes, the bad guys are smart too."

It will take more than her power this time, wouldn't be nice if you know... she had a partner who can take care of the "background noise" so that she can focus on the front lines??? Doesn't that not sound cool? Is that not a satisfying conclusion to all their similarities and parallels rather than making this about your ship wars with Michael Wheeler?

I'm asking you to think big. Think Vecna. Think plot. Think story. Think conclusions. Stop thinking small and digging your heads in the sand. You could be enjoying this story and these characters so much more if you didn't determine their worth and their story through the lense of your ships.

I'm asking people to stop saying WillEl is the equivalent of copying El or being misogynist. I'm asking people to stop using WillEl for their ships. Let them be individuals who can come together to defeat the big bad and live happily ever after with their family, friends, and loved ones.

#stranger things #will byers #el hopper #willel #analysis #sorry I ranted again #I am legit so.....#so angry #I think it's ok to say I'm angry now #because things are just getting worse and it's legit pissing me off #I don't get why people are like this #how did they watch season 4 and get WORSE???#people say that willel hug and were like #'gasp el hugs people that means will is copying her' that's how silly they sound to me ok #and the whole misogynist angle is even more stupid #I WANT EL TO HAVE A BROTHER LIKE HER AND A FAMILY WHO CAN SUPPORT HER SUPERNATURAL NEEDS #is that so wrong???#wth??????#I did not wait allllllllllll these years for willel moments for people to be trying to tear them apart like this

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