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I think Self Shippers need to kick it up a notch and have Fictional Enemies, make a self insert whose life goal is to beat the shit out of a canon character
Back again with the rest of my fix-it fic for The Letter for the King! Read Part One and Part Two on AO3 if you like, or read Part One here on Tumblr and Part Two below the line! Warning: This is much more of a crack fic than the first part, and no, I’m not sorry about it.
Part Two: In Which Lavinia, a Canonical Healer, is Unable to Heal Jussipo Because She’s Exhausted Her Magic After Defeating Viridian
When Tiuri and Lavinia burst out of the throne room and into the hall, it was to find the rest of their friends huddled around Jussipo, who was sitting propped against the wall, clutching his bleeding side. He tried to sit up further, and Foldo pressed a firm hand against his shoulder, easing him back down. “Easy, easy,” he said softly.
Jussipo rolled his eyes. “Did we do it?” he asked, eyes locked on Tiuri. His face glistened with sweat; his breathing was ragged. “Did we stop him?”
“How could we not stop him?” Tiuri said, voice just as quiet. Jussipo smiled. “How are you doing?”
He shrugged, wincing against the pain. “Well, clearly, I’m dying. Nasty stab wound and all that. So I could be doing better.”
Tiuri looked up at Lavinia, who was standing just behind him, looking down at the boys with a mildly perturbed expression. “Can you heal him?” he asked, drawing her attention. He indicated toward Jussipo, then motioned toward herself. “What with your magic being good and all. You can heal people, can’t you?”
She nodded, but looked uneasy. “I mean, yeah, I can heal people, but did you not just see what I did to Viridian? I exploded him. You think I’ve got enough magic juice left in me to stop Jussipo from dying - no offense, Jussipo.” He shrugged. “My magic has to recharge.” She stopped, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Well, at least I think it does. Point is, I can’t heal him.”
Frowning, Tiuri looked back to the other boys. “None of you thought to run for help?”
They exchanged glances. “Well, we were a bit preoccupied with what was going on in the throne room,” Arman said after a moment. “And none of us have been here before, how would we know where to go?”
Sighing, Tiuri pushed himself to his feet and strode back toward the throne room, throwing the doors open and shouting, “Hello, my good friend has been stabbed - is there anyone here who can fix him before he bleeds out on the castle floor?”
Immediately, at least two or three people were rushing out into the hallway to inspect Jussipo. One of them, a particularly burly man, pushed Arman and Foldo over and scooped Jussipo up into his arms. He then took off at a dead sprint, calling over his shoulder, “I’m King Favian’s doctor - my quarters are just around the corner here.”
Tiuri and the rest of the group ran after him, closely followed by the other people who’d come out to help. Within seconds, Jussipo was lying on a cot with thick bandages pressed against his abdomen, skin reeking of medicinal herbs and face green from whatever herbal remedy the man had made him drink. “This is disgusting,” he said. “I think I’d rather die.” Piak and Foldo both shot him stern looks, and he raised his bloody hands in a “hey, what can you do” manner.
The first man was preparing some kind of poultice - at least, Tiuri thought that was what he was doing. It wasn’t like Tiuri knew anything about medicine. One of the other volunteers was threading a needle, preparing to stitch Jussipo up. He saw the needle coming and clutched Foldo’s hand, squeezing tightly enough to make the taller boy yelp. Arman, Tiuri, and Piak stood anxiously by; Lavinia was in a chair in the corner, sipping a cup of water and watching the events unfold. “I killed the bad guy, what do you want from me?” she said when Arman questioned why she was just sitting there. She had a point.
Once Jussipo was done crying about the needle, he ran a hand through his undeniably gorgeous hair and winked at Foldo. “Can’t get rid of me that easily,” he said with a smug grin. Foldo rolled his eyes, but couldn’t fight a smile.
“So he’s not going to die?” Tiuri asked one of the medical professionals. They all gave him stern looks.
“No, he’s not going to die,” one of them said. “But he definitely would have if you’d all just continued sitting in that hallway instead of asking for help. Honestly, you think you kids can do it all? Laughable.”
Tiuri thought that was a bit harsh, but he didn’t say so. Jussipo was going to live, at least, and that was good. Only the bad guys were supposed to die - that was how the stories always went, anyway. At least they’d averted another crisis - for now.
Beyond the windows, the Blood Moon sank down toward the horizon, unseeing and uncaring.
So, I mentioned writing a fix-it fic for The Letter for the King a while ago, and I finally got around to rewatching the last episode. I’ve written two alternate scenes for the show as a remedy for our sweet bard boy’s death. The second one is definitely more of a crack fic than anything serious, though. Part One delves into the death of an alternate character, while Part Two deals with the possibility of Lavinia being physically unable to heal Jussipo herself.
You can find the fic on AO3 here: Part One & Part Two
Or, you can go ahead and read Part One right now!
Part One: In Which Someone Has to Die, Obviously, Because These Kids Do Not Deserve a Happy Ending
Light exploded within the throne room, its beams bursting out from Lavinia’s body to fill every empty space, streaming through the windows. Just as suddenly, it dimmed. When Tiuri was finally able to open his eyes, it was to find that Prince Viridian, dark, expansive mass that he’d become, was gone. The darkness was gone. All that was left was a dull ringing in his ears that soon faded.
“You did it.” He turned to look at his friend, his eyes bright in wonder, face beaming with pride. Though her expression was relaxed, Lavinia was breathing heavily, body trembling slightly. His brows furrowed. “Are you okay?”
She gave a short laugh, giving him that same sarcastic look he’d grown accustomed to during their journey. “Never been better,” she said.
And then she collapsed.
Tiuri caught her easily, gently lowering her down to the ground as he knelt, holding her firmly. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” he said, a small smile on his face.
She mirrored his expression, letting out another soft chuckle. Her face was glistening with sweat. “Would now be a good time to get that reward?” she asked, voice much softer than it’d been moments before. Her eyes fluttered shut.
“I suppose after you’ve rested, we could ask about - Lavinia?” Tiuri broke off, eyes quickly scanning her face. It was growing paler by the second. “Lavinia?” She didn’t answer him, didn’t open her eyes. He shook her slightly; her head lolled backwards. “Lavinia!”
The crowd of nobles who’d been watching the evening’s events unfold was suddenly beginning to converge on the two of them. He was caught between screaming for help and wanting to shield her from the masses, keep her safe from any further danger. But his body was too numb to move, his voice too numb to speak, so he did neither. He only stared, unseeing, as Queen Alianor knelt by his side. She laid one hand on Lavinia’s forehead, one hand on Tiuri’s shoulder.
“Help her,” he said, his voice small. His eyes began to sting.
The queen rested the back of her hand against Lavinia’s lips, feeling for warmth, for breath. Nothing. Her eyes drifted down toward the young woman’s chest, watching for it to rise and fall. Nothing. “She’s gone, Tiuri,” she said softly, gently, and drew both her hands into her lap.
“No - no, she can’t be. She was just - ” But the rest of the words wouldn’t come. He squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden onslaught of tears and dropped his head, curling in on himself, arms still clutching Lavinia’s limp body, holding her tightly against his chest.
Queen Alianor set her hand on his shoulder blade, face drawn in sorrow. She worked to keep her voice even, consoling. “To use that amount of magic all at once, especially so young…” She trailed off, glancing away from the two children to look behind her, at the rest of the group. King Favian was trying to get the guests to disperse; Prince Iridian was hovering nearby, watching her. She met his gaze, and he gave a small smile that didn’t touch his eyes. She looked back to Tiuri. “She sacrificed herself to defeat Viridian.”
“She didn’t deserve to die with him.” His voice cracked, and he lifted his head, fixing bleary eyes on the queen’s face. She couldn’t argue his point, and he knew it. Drawing in a shaky breath, he slowly pushed himself to his feet, lifting Lavinia’s body from the stone floor. One of her arms dangled at her side, fingers stretching toward the ground. “Excuse me,” he mumbled, edging past the queen, who was still kneeling. She did nothing but watch as he made his way through the remaining crowd toward the door, half stumbling. Someone held the door for him, and he passed wordlessly into the hall. With an echoing boom, it swung shut behind him.
Piak was the first to notice his arrival, bursting toward him at a dead sprint, eyes wide in wonder. “Tiuri! Lavinia! Did it work? Did you stop him?” His gaze landed on Lavinia, and whatever excitement he’d had quickly morphed into confusion. “What’s the matter with her?”
Tiuri’s legs finally gave out and he crashed to the floor, on his knees once again, shoulders shaking as he cried. The rest of the group was at his side in an instant. Arman knelt across from him, easing Tiuri’s fingers open to lower Lavinia to the floor. Her head lolled to the side, hair falling across her cheek. Jussipo and Foldo looked on in quiet horror, Jussipo leaning all of his body weight against Foldo and clutching at the stab wound in his side. Slowly, the two lowered to their knees and bowed their heads.
Piak was still on his feet, pacing nervously. “What’s happening?” he asked, sounding every bit the young boy he was. “Jussipo, what’s wrong with her?”
Tiuri lifted his head to look at Jussipo through teary eyes, nodding toward the blood on his shirt. “Are you okay?” His voice was hoarse.
Jussipo waved his bloody hand dismissively and pressed it back against his side, eyes never leaving Lavinia’s pale face. “It’s just a scratch.” His tone, usually humorous, was hollow.
Piak clutched at his brother’s shoulder, small body beginning to tremble. “Answer me! What’s going on, what’s - Lavinia, wake up!”
“She’s dead, Piak,” Arman snapped. He lowered his head and spoke once more, softer this time. “She’s dead.”
Piak fell to his knees beside Jussipo, burying his face in his brother’s shoulder. With one hand, he reached out and latched on to a couple of Tiuri’s fingers, squeezing tightly. Foldo leaned his cheek against Jussipo’s hair and reached out with his free hand for Arman, who hesitated a moment before taking it. Then Arman looked to Tirui and grasped his other hand, the two of them exchanging firm nods before looking back down at the young woman - their friend - lying before them. Lavinia had saved their world from Viridian’s destruction, it was true, but she had paid the ultimate price. Was it worth it? In the end, was it really worth it?
Beyond the windows, the Blood Moon sank down toward the horizon, unseeing and uncaring.
you know what’s pretty cool? fanfic writers and fanfic in general. not only is it free, anyone can get involved and share and be creative. it’s such an exciting outlet and i’m so proud of all you fanfic writers and readers out there.
another thing that’s pretty damn awesome is how amazing of writers a lot of you are. we might not have fancy editors or publishers or whatever, but we have betas or friends or just plain grammarly to help us out and you know what? i’ve read plenty of fics that i thought we’re better than books.
you know that AU you wrote? that story is your own. you might have used character names and maybe their background info, but you created a story different than the one given to us. i love y’all.
you know that canon compliant story or that story set in the same universe you wrote? hell yeah, we wish that we had that content in the original. fucking kudos.
all the one shots, multi chapters, freaking series, all of it. crack and all, it’s so impressive. you all deserve more applause and appreciation, but know as an avid writer and reader, keep on doing what you’re doing. you are so appreciated and so loved. thank you!
“good enough” is when you are working on something and are happy with most of it but can live with a few imperfections, useful when needing to move on from sketch to inking/coloring or what have you.
“fuck it” is when you absolutely hate what you’re doing every step of the way but you post it anyways, very useful during art blocks.
both are useful to help you move on and not obsess over making it perfect, because art is anything but perfect, even photo realistic artists probably see imperfections that someone else might not catch
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