#internal conflict

[buckleybeat]

When The Writers Botch The Protagonists’ Internal Conflicts

A lesson in internal conflict and how overlooking it breaks both your main characters and your story, featuring Stranger Things ⭐️♥️🌈

Every well-written main character goes on a journey in their narrative, and at the heart of this character arc is an internal conflict: the push and pull between what the character wants and the fears and lies stopping them from getting what they want.

Internal conflict, especially for multiple characters, can be tricky to pull off, but it’s what makes characters relatable. To everyone. We all have desires, fears, and misbeliefs about the world or ourselves that stop us from going after our desires.

Internal conflict is The Clash between desire & fear.

The average story is able to create payoff with the main character’s conflict, having them (and in turn, the audience) learn something along the way.

But when you decenter the emotional arcs of your main characters, or steer those arcs off their trajectory, the entire story falls flat and the audience walks away learning nothing from your story.

What Is Internal Conflict & How Does It Work?

Internal conflict is made up of 3 ingredients:

Desire: What the character wants most at this point in their life

Fear: What the character is afraid of

Misbelief: The lie holding a character back, which they are often oblivious to until they confront their fear in their aha moment. It is then that they realize “I’ve had it all wrong.”

The protagonist’s misbelief is, ideally, written as the opposite of the story’s theme. Why is that important? Because when the main character has their “aha moment”, the audience has an aha moment of their own. They identify their own misbeliefs and apply the moral of the story to their own lives.

So, let’s apply internal conflict to Buddy The Elf.

Desire: Buddy wants to find belonging, to find the place where he “fits in”. When he finds out he’s not actually an elf, Buddy hopes to find his real family, where he belongs.

Fear: Buddy is afraid that his family will reject him.

Misbelief: “I am an oddball, there is no place where I belong, and my real family doesn’t want me.”

Buddy's misbelief is challenged during his "aha moment" when the real Santa arrives, and he realizes his Christmas cheer IS valuable after all. Once Buddy challenges his misbelief, his family accepts him. Buddy gets what he’s been shown to want the most over the course of the film. That's the payoff for overcoming his fears.

Now, let’s apply this to the protagonists of Stranger Things to show what happens when internal conflict is ignored and the audience is scammed out of an emotional payoff.

By protagonists, I mean these sweethearts:

Will Byers ⭐️

I think it’s safe to say that love defines the character of Will Byers more than anything. Love separates Will from Henry Creel, who he foils. Unlike Henry, Will has a loving family and friends, who are key to Will snapping out of possession in Season 2 and honing his powers in Season 5. Internal conflict arises for Will when romantic love enters the picture, something which *sigh* Henry has and Will doesn’t. Platonic love defeats romance, yay! Except Lumax, Lumax is the most powerful ever!!

Anyways, Will’s internal conflict in the later seasons is set up around romantic love, and the shame he has around it because of his queerness and trauma from (CSA coded) abuse. This shame around romance is something I expected Will to overcome, because he also has a desire for romance that is so pure and inseparable from his queerness arc. I explain how Will is written to be a romantic hero here.

Will’s Internal Conflict

Desire: To be loved by someone who doesn’t see him as fragile/weak or a mistake, to be loved for exactly who he is, and to find romantic love like his friends.

Fear: That he really is a freak, a mistake, and that nobody will love him if they knew the truth about his queerness. That he will never find love because he is gay and because of the trauma he experienced, because he is outcasted.

Misbelief: “I’m not gonna fall in love, I don’t deserve love, because of who I intrinsically am.”

Misbelief stated:

How Will’s misbelief should have been handled: Will should’ve been shown that he is deserving of the romantic love he wants. And Will wants Mike up until the end.

Will should’ve realized that his desire to fall in love was a GOOD thing, not a BAD thing. His love should’ve overcome his fear and shame.

Will’s misbelief is that he doesn’t deserve Mike; he squashes his feelings for Mike down time after time. Will should’ve been shown that he DOES deserve Mike, the boy who sees him for exactly who he is.

Will’s ideal aha moment would involve him realizing that Mike does love him, and that Mike’s love gives him the courage to fight on, to stand up to the fear Vecna has been instilling in him.

The theme shown to the audience would be that love overcomes fear, and that queer kids, abused kids, too, can have the romantic love they desire.

If the point was to show that Mike made Will feel bad about himself, they didn’t give Will an alternative love interest who made him feel better about himself. This is what happens in The Holiday, where Kate Winslet’s character is in love with a man who strings her along, but then Jack Black’s character is introduced as a better match for her.

Again, it’s fine if Mike wasn’t the right boy for Will, but there wasn’t another boy for Will.

You don’t just write a character to want romance and… not give them romance. In Will’s case, that’s homophobic, actually.

What the writers did instead: They portrayed Will’s desire for romance as a weakness he had to overcome.

Characters can have misbelief-based desires (ex. a character who wants wealth or success), but if the protagonist’s desire is misbelief-driven, the pursuit of it is usually shown to hurt the characters around them.

For example, in A Christmas Carol, Scrooge’s desire for wealth is lamented by the townspeople, and his work partner Bob Marley warns him against it.

By contrast, Will’s pursuit of Mike is shown to be a net positive - for both Mike and Will. Will’s love, expressed through the painting he gives Mike, encourages Mike to be brave. It results in Mike’s growth as a character, as well as Mike and Will’s bond repairing.

Desires that are portrayed as good should be achieved by the character in an emotional payoff.

What the writers did instead: They set Will on the exact character arc Robin has been on.

Why this doesn’t work: 

Robin didn’t work at Scoops Ahoy with Tammy Thompson.

Romantic love has always been decentered from Robin’s character arc, which is about acceptance and community. Even when Robin pursues Vickie in season 4, a lot of focus is put on her friendship with Steve and how that gives her the confidence to show Vickie her interest.

“But Steve was paired with Robin for all of Season 3, and he had a crush on her. They didn’t end up together.”

Steve’s crush on Robin was resolved by the end of the season.

If the California plot was supposed to be Scoops Troop 2.0, there was no bathroom scene.

If Byler was meant to be unrequited, it should have been a hard no by the end of Season 4.

Instead of addressing Will’s crush on Mike and “ripping off the band-aid”, the show set up Mike and Will to grow closer together in Season 5.

This is a very different approach to the other unrequited love plot lines in Stranger Things, which are resolved in one season. 

El Hopper 🌈

El/Jane’s arc centers around finding family, connection, and belonging after being abused, as well as taking your power back (literally) from your abusers.

She finds the most solace in Hopper, her adoptive dad, Max, her best friend, and Kali, her lab “sister”.

I know some of y’all are going to say she finds solace in Mike, but he is shown to cause her more grief than happiness from Season 3 onwards. She explicitly tries to end the relationship twice because, in her own words, Mike 1. lies to her and 2. doesn’t understand her.

Mike is security, stability, the boy El falls back on because she grew attached to him first. Her internal conflict works best if it ends in her growing away from Mike.

El’s Internal Conflict

Desire: To find her family, learn about the world, and live a happy life free from the lab.

Fear: That she cannot break away from the lab or end the cycle of abuse she was subjected to. That she will never adapt or be accepted in the real world.

Misbelief: “I do not belong. Anywhere. I am a monster, and I am not cut out for a normal life.”

Also, “I need the validation of others, of men, to be worthy of love.”

And perhaps “I need to ‘adapt’ and live a normal life to be happy.”

Misbelief stated:

How El’s misbelief should have been handled: El’s arc in Season 4 should’ve continued as it was set up when she stood up to Papa. She should’ve been shown that external validation was never the answer.

Yes, this external validation she is misguidedly seeking includes asking Mike to tell her “I love you”.

If Mike was supposed to be a good thing in El’s life, they should not have written him to use the same language as her abusers (ex. “What did you do?”), and he should’ve made her happy instead of stressed.

Kali’s return gives El’s another option, taking her own life by choice, but this option is contrary to El’s desire for belonging.

In order for her misbelief to be proven wrong, El had to realize that she DOES belong, somewhere.

If El’s misbelief is “I have to adapt, to be a normal girl”, she should’ve been shown that she belongs and can be happy in spite of her powers and past. That these things, in fact, made her lovable.

El’s ideal aha moment could go one of two ways.

A. El realizes that she never needed Mike, that she was happiest broken up with him. Then, out of her own free will, she chooses to stay with the Party and Hopper instead of risking her own life, because they are her family. Or she chooses to leave the Party, because she wants to be independent.

B. El realizes she belongs with Kali, and she discourages Kali from taking her own life. She chooses to live a happy, independent life with Kali (who understands her situation) and leave the Party behind, and they use their presence to break the cycle.

The theme shown to the audience would be that connection and making your own choices is the right way to heal from abuse. Not romantic attachment, and not ending your life.

What the writers did instead: They portrayed El’s desire as something unattainable. They also showed that her fear and misbelief were true, she was right about her inability to belong in the real world.

El’s character arc was filler for the Duffers, who ultimately saw her as a prop and symbol whose purpose had to be fulfilled by dying.

They fridged her, letting her fear and misbelief stop her from ever being able to pursue her desire.

They did that instead of having El confront her fear and misbelief so that she could pursue her desire.

As with Will’s internal conflict, this is just showing the audience that “sometimes, you never get what you desire most in life”.

Mike Wheeler ♥️

Mike’s internal conflict is the hardest to pinpoint, because he doesn’t seem to have one at all. Mike Wheeler appears to be a cardboard, static character. In every season, he loves El, he’s El’s boyfriend, and he’s loyal to his friends.

Until Season 3, where you start seeing the cracks in Mike’s relationship with El, how it makes him insecure, how it causes him to push his friends away, especially Will.

Mike’s arc then becomes one of identity and insecurity. He loses himself, his role as the heart of the Party, in his relationship with El. The relationship feeds into Mike’s insecurities about himself, as he places El on a pedestal and reduces himself to a “nobody”.

Then Will comes around and tells him that’s not true… which WOULD be the perfect challenge to a misbelief that is barely explored at all.

Desire: To be a hero who can lead his friends to victory over the Upside Down; to hold his friend group together.

Fear: That growing up will tear his friend group apart; that he will lose the people he loves.

Misbelief: “I’m just some random nerd, a nobody. I can’t do anything to support my loved ones. In fact, I’m not important to them at all.”

Misbelief stated:

How Mike’s misbelief should’ve been handled: Mike should’ve realized that Will believed in the person he wanted to be all along; that El was holding him back from embracing his role as the “heart of the Party.”

Will told Mike that his value was in his words, his leadership, his heart, so he should’ve used that to help his friends fight.

Mike should’ve had to confront his fears and insecurities on his own. Instead, he barely lifted a finger in the supernatural plot.

Mike’s ideal aha moment would’ve happened after he feels like he’s lost both El and Will (disaster moment). This would’ve forced Mike to realize that he himself has value, outside of his loved ones, even when he can’t save his loved ones. Even better if Mike surprised the audience with depths they didn’t expect - Mike could learn to love all of himself, even the parts of himself he was afraid of.

The theme shown to the audience would be that you are lovable just as you are - you don’t have to be a hero or savior. And/or that accepting yourself makes you strong, gives you the courage to inspire others and fight on. What better ending for a “show about outcasts” than the “everyman” character accepting that he himself is an outcast, and finding power in that?

What the writers did instead: They had El tell Mike that he indeed is valuable to her, when the narrative did nothing to support this. When, in fact, El hindered Mike's character growth.

We were never shown WHY El loves Mike. “You understand me better than anyone”… point to three times in the show where that’s true. Where Mike “gets” El more than Hopper, Max, or Kali do.

We were, however, clearly told why Will loves Mike.

They reduced Mike to the boy El and Will love, when he should have faced his fears and misbelief independent of them.

They proved Mike’s fear, being separated from the Party and his loved ones, right. That’s exactly what happens at the very end when he loses El, with no arc of him learning to accept loss. He’s just miserable.

I think you can tell what I'm getting at here. Fear and misbelief win, because the "lesson" is "sometimes, things just don't work out."

Why Does This Matter?

Internal conflict isn’t just putting your characters on a journey, it’s the tool writers use to teach their audiences the themes of their story.

Letting a character’s fears and misbelief win is exactly how you “assassinate” that character.

By shooting down the emotional payoff of three main character arcs in Stranger Things, the audience does not learn anything about themselves by the time the credits roll.

It’s soulless and designed for passive viewing; happiness and comfort to weakly charm the masses. And the worst part is, Stranger Things had the potential to be a story that challenges what the audience thinks about themselves and about others.

It's bitter men sacrificing good storytelling in lieu of "you get what you get, and you don't pitch a fit."

[capriluvr]

eyes without a face

pairing scaramouche x reader

he opens up to you for the first time since you knew him.

tags established relationship, hurt/comfort, late-night feelings, internal conflict

warnings none

you don’t notice at first. you think he’s just quiet again, one of his moods where he drifts around the room like he’s borrowed someone else’s body. but then you hear it. the way he exhales like something inside him has cracked.

you turn toward him.

he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, hands limp. and his eyes—god, his eyes are somewhere you can’t reach. somewhere he’s spent years trying not to go back to.

"scara?" you whisper.

no answer.

you take a step. just one. he flinches like you slapped him.

“don’t,” he rasps, voice small and raw. “please. just… don’t come closer.”

your heart almost caves in on itself. he never asks like that. never begs.

“why?” you breathe out.

he let's out a sound that isn't really laugh. not really anything. he pulls his legs close to him, head lowering in defeat.

"i don't want it to happen again. i can't let it happen again."

you kneel slowly, keeping distance, but lowering yourself to the floor so you’re not towering over him. “can’t do what?”

he drags a hand over his face. “lose something i thought I didn’t care about.”

your breath hitches. he squeezes his eyes shut, and for a moment he looks like a child—terrified, furious, emotions to big to handle.

“scara, i’m not leaving—”

“yes, you will. you always do. everyone does.”

“i’m not everyone.”

“that’s what they all said,” he sighs.

his voice cracks at the end. not dramatically. not loudly. just enough to sound human in a way that terrifies him.

you move closer, only enough that your knees brush his.

he doesn’t move away this time. but he's trembling, it looks like it hurts to breathe.

“look at me,” you say, soft, pleading.

he does.

and the look in his eyes—empty, desperate, terrified of needing you—shatters something you didn't know could break.

“i don’t know who i’m supposed to be,” he admits. “i don’t know how to be… real. i don’t know how to exist without waiting for the next person to decide i’m not worth it.”

“i would never—”

“don’t lie to me.” he says it with tears in his voice, even if none fall yet. “don’t tell me i matter. don’t tell me you love me. don’t tell me things people say before they disappear.”

your throat tightens painfully. “i’m not disappearing.”

“you will,” he repeats, like he’s convinced the universe has already decided. “you’ll realize i’m too much. too broken. too wrong. and one day i’ll look over and you’ll be gone, just like—” his breath shudders. “just like everyone else.”

you climb onto the bed cautiously, your hands shaking. he watches with wide, frightened eyes, like he doesn’t know whether to run or fall into you.

you cup his face.

he stops breathing.

“i’m not leaving,” you whisper.

his voice is barely audible. “don’t promise that.”

“why?”

“because if you break it…” his mouth twists, trembling. “…i won’t survive it.”

the honesty hits you so hard you it hurts. this is scaramouche—sharp, cold words, storms in his chest—and he’s looking at you like you’re the last star in a sky that keeps burning out.

you pull him into your arms.

he resists for half a second. then he collapses.

not gently. not gracefully.

he just breaks.

his fists clutch your shirt. his forehead presses into your shoulder, so hard it's sure to leave a bruise, it's almost as if he’s trying to bury himself in your ribs. his breath stutters, catches, shivers—tiny, fractured sobs he tries and fails to swallow.

“i can’t lose you,” he chokes out. “i don’t know how to do this but i’m trying, i’m trying so hard—”

you hold him tighter. as tight as he needs.

“i’m right here,” you murmur, voice thick. “you’re not losing anything.”

“don’t let go.” it comes out strangled. “don’t let go of me.”

“never.”

you feel him shake harder. you feel the way he clings like he’s been waiting centuries for someone to hold him together like this. he’s crying silently now—breaths shaking, shoulders trembling, tears soaking your collarbone.

“you always see too much,” he cries out. “you look at me like i’m someone worth loving and i don’t understand it. i don’t—i don’t deserve—”

“stop,” you warned, pressing your forehead to his temple. “you deserve everything. every bit of love i give you. every soft thing in this world. every good moment you never got.”

he gasps—a sound of pain, of disbelief, of something inside him finally giving up the fight.

you wrap your arms around him, warm and reassuring, like arms he can actually come home to. the candle burns low. the night presses in. his breathing slowly steadies against your chest, still shaky, still wet with tears.

but he’s holding you like he’s afraid to let the world touch you. as if you’re the only thing keeping him together.

and when he finally whispers, “please stay,” it’s the most honest thing you’ve ever heard from him.

you kiss the top of his head.

“i’m staying,” you whisper. “even when it hurts. even when you push. even when you’re scared. i’m not going anywhere.”

he exhales, a long, shaking breath that sounds like surrender.

↺ masterlist

[aventurineswife]

I enjoy seeing your writings pop-up in the character tags. I also especially like how much fun you have with some of the prompts.

I saw requests are open, so I have an interesting request for you. The HSR Universe is ripe for suggestions and weird things, so why not?

I couldn't decide on who to pick for this prompt. So for maybe like 3 HSR characters of your choice, can I ask for a reader that decides to take an experimental drink, thinking nothing of it, but it ends up leaving reader reader with a temporary heart mark on their skin that turns colors based on their emotions? (I.e. A mood ring type of situation?)

“Feelings Are Just Colors in Disguise”

Tags: Sunday x Reader, Mydei x Reader, Anaxa x Reader, Slow-Burn Hints, Emotional Connection, Magical Realism, Light Mystery/Speculative Magic, Emotion-Based Magic, Slight Introspection and Internal Conflict, Light Banter (Especially with Anaxa), Gentle Warmth and Comfort (Mydei and Sunday), Themes Of Identity And Vulnerability.

Warnings: Minor Injury Mentions (No Graphic Violence), Emotional Vulnerability And Exploration Of Complex Feelings, Mild Existential Themes and Philosophical Reflection (Anaxa, Sunday), Brief References To Past Trauma Or Loss (Handled Sensitively), Experimental Magic and Body Markings.

A/N: I'm glad you enjoy them! <33

The battlefield was quiet for once.

You sat near the campfire, a little tent away from the rest of Mydei’s soldiers. Your fingers curled around a strange flask handed to you earlier by one of the alchemists from Okhema. “Experimental drink,” they’d said. “For fortification.” You barely listened—tired, thirsty, and desperate for anything that didn't taste like boiled roots and despair.

The liquid was sweet and strange—like pomegranate but effervescent and tinged with cheese. Oddly comforting.

Within minutes, a sharp warmth bloomed across your collarbone. You looked down and gasped.

A glowing heart-shaped mark pulsed there, tinted gold-orange.

“What in the—?”

“...You’ve been marked,” came a voice behind you, low and steady.

You turned to see Mydei, the Guardian of Amphoreus himself, crouching beside you. His eyes narrowed at the glowing heart. “I’ve seen marks of magic, but not this.” His gaze was calculating but not unkind.

“It changes color,” you muttered, pressing your hand over the glowing skin. “Based on emotion, I think.”

“It’s orange now,” he murmured. “Hopeful. Curious.”

You swallowed. “Is that...good?”

Mydei’s fingers brushed yours away gently. His gauntleted hand hovered near the mark, not touching—but close enough that you felt the heat between you.

“You should rest,” he said. But he lingered. “I’ll stay. To make sure it doesn’t...spread.”

You caught a flicker of red in the heart.

He noticed too. A rare smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Red. You fear me?”

“I—No!” you stammered. “That was—surprise. Not fear.”

“Mm.” He tilted his head, hair catching the firelight. “We’ll see.”

The mark flickered again—a warm, soft pink.

He didn’t tease. He didn’t gloat. Just leaned in closer and whispered, “Then you have nothing to be afraid of.”

“Drink this,” Anaxa said, sliding a shimmering vial your way across the cluttered workshop bench.

You frowned. “Last time you said that, I couldn’t stop quoting dead philosophers in rhyme for three hours.”

“Consider that a success,” he grinned, wild-eyed and amused. “This one’s subtler. Stimulates emotional resonance. I hypothesize it’ll project your internal state to the surface.”

You rolled your eyes—but downed it anyway. It was teal and fizzled like starlight.

And then it happened. A searing sensation just over your heart. You yanked your shirt aside, revealing a vivid heart symbol on your skin—magenta.

“Fascinating!” Anaxa clapped. “Magenta—emotional intensity. Possibly love. Or embarrassment. Maybe a repressed desire to throttle me. Which would be fair.”

You stared, horrified. “It glows!”

He leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “So does truth. Most people just spend their lives hiding from it.”

The heart flickered bright red.

“Ah—anger now. Excellent emotional range. You're practically a living thesis.”

You stood up. “This is humiliating!”

He didn’t stop you—just followed you out into the moonlight, curious.

Silence stretched. You wrapped your arms around yourself, heart glowing violet now.

He studied the color. “Fear and mystery,” he said softly. “But not of me.”

“No,” you admitted, voice small. “Just...of what this means. Of being seen.”

Anaxa was quiet a moment. Then, to your surprise, he took off his glove, revealing a crimson sigil glowing faintly on his palm. “Then let me be seen too,” he said, placing his hand just inches from your heart.

The mark shifted to silver-blue.

Clarity. Vulnerability. A chance.

It happened during the layover at a celestial observatory.

You wandered through the festival bazaar, eyes catching on a Halovian vendor’s glittering elixirs. You asked for something new. Something unique.

They gave you a gentle drink, honey-smooth with lavender undertones. The moment it touched your lips, you felt warmth settle over your chest. Then—the mark appeared.

A faint heart, right above your sternum. At first, it shimmered pale blue.

You found Sunday sitting on the edge of a terrace, eyes watching the cosmos.

When he saw you, his wings fluttered gently. “You’ve changed,” he said, and your breath hitched.

You explained quickly, nervously—about the mark, about the drink.

He studied it silently. Then: “It’s...beautiful.”

You blinked. “It’s revealing.”

“Most beauty is.”

The heart glowed peach, soft and warm. Sunday’s eyes flicked to the color.

“I wonder,” he murmured. “What would I see if I bore such a mark? Guilt? Longing? Maybe...hope.”

You sat beside him. “Try,” you said, lifting his hand and placing it near your heart.

The heart turned a deep gold.

For a moment, Sunday said nothing. But his halo glowed softly, and a breeze stirred his scarf.

“That’s new,” he said. “It means you feel...safe. Around me.”

You looked at him, truly looked—and saw the flicker of conflict behind his serene mask.

“Maybe you could try,” you whispered. “Letting someone in.”

His fingers curled around yours.

And the heart turned white.

Peace. Maybe fleeting—but real.

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Necessary Conversations

Author's note: More of Olly in Husbandry AU! I collaborated with @c-u-c-koo-4-40k on this next set of chunky chapters. Thanks for writing with me! This was a lot of fun. :) Thanks to @felinisnoctis for letting me borrow your Chaosy boys!

Summary: Olly rapidly escalates into coordinated crisis response, securing Felix’s aid at the cost of future debt while briefing Claude to discreetly mobilize Khopesh and the wider network. As Faroh’s threat becomes explicit and time-sensitive, Olly commits to containment and elimination planning while carefully managing who knows what—and when.

Warning: Coercion and blackmail involving a target (Jophiel), Threats of harm to a civilian (Lullaby), Genetic experimentation / reproductive manipulation references, Psychological stress and emotional overwhelm (Olly), Implied past unethical human experimentation (Mars-era Primaris development), Threat of systemic exposure / institutional collapse risk, Tension involving organized violence / assassination planning, Emotional dissociation / controlled shutdown under pressure. LMK if I need to add anything else.

tagged: @sleepyfan-blog @c-u-c-koo-4-40k @i-am-a-dragon34 @ms--lobotomy @jaghatai-khock @legionsofthehungry

tagged: @kit-williams @aprofessionaln00b @bleedingichorhearts @thevoidscreams @gra93fruit-blog

Tagged: @felinisnoctis @egrets-not-regrets @finchly-tintinnabulation @nereidof40k @bookandyarndragon

Olly has plenty of things to do and little time to do them in. Kerubiel and Thressl are going to help by contacting Khopesh, Lullay, and Nanael. Likely Cedric will be looped into this- after all he’d sent Thressl and Kerubiel to check on him when his vitals became erratic for seemingly no reason.

Olly pauses as he thumbs his vox bead before sending a message to Felix. The older Primaris Ultramarine is- unnerving in some ways. Not just because he’s a Chaos Marine- although that is a large part of it.

“Oleandros.” The Chaos Primaris Marine says curtly. “I am curious as to why you of all people are contacting me brother.”

“I have a… favor,” Olly says the words slowly, carefully tasting the words- there is a… bitterness to them that has him wondering if this is the right choice.

“Oh?” Felix says, sounding a little bit more curious and focused on his fellow Primaris Ultramarine.

“Yes- and I’d like to discuss it in person- at the Park on Main Street at Gannet point in an hour if you have time.” Olly replies.

“I’m always up for helping my brothers,” Felix says- and he is- for a price. After all- nothing comes for free. “And I have time available today to speak with you.”

“Thank you, brother,” Olly says, one must mind their P’s and Q’s when asking a favor.

Olly wonders how much debt he’ll rack up with this favor, alas, he will do this for Jophiel- for Lullaby. And- Olly’s eyes slide away, Felix enjoys having others in his debt- and he knows that the other will cash them in. He will do what is necessary to protect those he cherishes. 

The park is overflowing with greenery and stone. There are some plastic and metal play structures for young baseline humans in the middle distance. Olly approaches the bench that Felix is seated at- with Batsy leaning against a tree while Mic is fiddling with some- mechanical thing.

“Oleandros.” Felix greets Olly glancing over the younger Primaris Ultramarine trying to cold read information out of him.

Olly inclines his head slightly, as he approaches Felix- both of them are in armor- while Olly’s taken off his helmet and mag locked it to his hip. Felix is helmeted. Olly has a large rock- he’d snagged one on the way to the meeting place- his hands carefully not-worrying away at it as he carefully not-eats it. He knows that messing with eating stone- to those that know him- is a sign of stress- well can be at least.

“Felix,” he greets back simply. For a moment or two- there is silence, stillness the wintery wind fainting weaving its way through the chinks in their armor.

“You sounded… hesitant.” His gaze flicked across Olly’s face, cataloguing micro-expressions with Astartes precision. “That is unusual for you. You have always struck me as direct.”

Olly exhaled slowly through his nose.

“I am being direct,” he said. “I require assistance. The nature of that assistance… is delicate.”

Felix’s mouth curved faintly — not quite a smile. More the suggestion of one.

“Delicate matters are often the most interesting.” He gestured toward the bench. “Walk with me.”

They moved along the promenade at a measured pace, their strides naturally synchronizing, a relic of decades of drilled formation marching neither had consciously chosen. Batsy and Mic watch them move on. Olly knows that with their Primaris acute hearing that the other two will hear everything else they say.

“For whom is this favor?” Felix asked.

Olly pauses as he thinks over what to say, “... Myself- and Jophiel.” 

He doesn’t add in Lullaby- as he doesn’t want them to get into Felix’s cross hairs. Anrir and Hura would be more than a little annoyed if certain things were learned about by Felix -who’d use that information for his own benefit. Be it keeping secrets or selling it to the highest bidder. He’s watched- well- overheard such mutterings more than once and knew how to put two and two together to paint a picture that was more fuzzy for others to put into focus.

“What’s up with Jophie?” Batsy calls out, while Felix raises an eyebrow.

Batsy is fond of Jophiel- the younger son of Sanguinius is rather sweet and someone that Batsy flies with regularly. Olly isn’t entirely sure if Batsy being fond of Jophiel is entirely a good thing.

“There is a First born blood Angel- Faroh,” Olly starts carefully, “... He was on Mars- during the training of the first wave Primaris.”

“And that’s relevant how?” Felix asks.

“... He was involved in the genealogical management and experiments with fertility and cross breeding programs.” Olly says. “... And wants to begin those experiments again.”

“I see why you want him dealt with.” Felix says after a moment of silence. “You will need to lure him out of wherever hole he is in for us to… eliminate the threat.”

“I have a plan in place for that- and… he’s given an Ultimatum.” Olly says.

“Let me guess- hand over Jophiel by the end of day or else he starts talking about secrets?” Felix deduces.

“Yes.” Olly says with a nod.

Batsy’s wings flare in agitation at that, “That shithead.”

“Of a sort yes- Nanael and I are going to bait and trap Faroh- and bring him to a secondary location for you to… ensure he’s no longer a threat.” Olly says.

“I think we can come to an accord.” Felix says pleasantly. 

“Good.” Olly says with a nod.

“Do you want to know what we do to him?” Felix asks.

Olly shakes his head, “I’d rather not know what… you do to him. Only that he’s no longer a threat.”

“Fair enough.” Felix says with a nod.

“... How much is this going to cost me?” Olly asks carefully.

“Oh you are giving us a new… person to amuse ourself with- so long as you and yours catch and hand him over… only one favor of a similar value to be cashed in later.” Felix responds with a razor sharp smile. “It's a pleasure doing business with you brother.”

Olly… Olly doesn’t know how to respond to that- what to say to that. He knows that in part- Felix is helping with this- because it’s in Felix's best interest to keep certain aspects of Primaris - that are non-Rubicon Primaris- quiet. Self interest is a powerful motivator- especially for Chaos Marine types.

“I will message you once it’s done.” Olly says to Felix.

The other Primaris marine nods. “I will await your call- should you need more aid- that will cost another favor.”

“I will keep that in mind.” Olly says with a nod. “I have several more things to do today in rapid order.”

Felix waves him off and Olly turns away and heads off to where Claude is- having Claude be the one to tell Khopesh will likely be better? Hopefully at least. He sends Claude a message.

[I need to speak with you privately.] Olly sends the message to Claude.

[Where do you wanna talk?] Claude responds quickly. [Are you ok?]

[I am adequate. Will talk more in person away from ears and eyes.] Olly responds.

[Wilco.] Claude responds. 

Olly sends a message to Claude the coordinates of where he wants Claude to show up. He pauses in a decently light and shadowy place and there are a pair of night dark eyes that blink out of his shadow as Claude steps out of Olly’s shadow and looks him over.

“What’s going on?” Claude asks.

Claude’s gaze sweeps the area automatically, habit layered over instinct. His posture is casual in the way of someone who could vanish into the nearest shadow without warning. The night-dark of his armor drinks in the low winter light, making him appear more absent than presence.

Olly studies him for a long moment, jaw working faintly before he speaks.

“There is an individual resurfacing,” Olly says quietly. “Firstborn Blood Angel. Name Faroh.”

Claude stills — not outwardly, not to baseline perception — but Olly knows him well enough to catch the subtle tightening in the line of his shoulders.

“That name sounds unpleasant,” Claude replies evenly. “Should I already hate him?”

“Yes.”

Claude exhales once through his nose. “All right. Continue.”

“He was present on Mars during early Primaris development,” Olly says. “His specialization involved… genealogical oversight. Fertility manipulation. Cross-line experimentation.”

Claude’s expression goes flat in a way that is almost more alarming than anger.

“And he wants to resume this work,” Claude says, not asking.

“Yes.” Olly replies, one of his shoulders twitching as he turns the rock in his hands to dust as his fingers squeeze it tightly.

“And he has leverage,” Claude adds.

Olly inclines his head once.

Claude’s eyes narrow slightly. “Leverage involving who.”

“He’s discussed his demands with me.” Olly hedges a little bit.

“What is Faroh’s ultimatum?” Claude asks, glancing at Olly.

“Produce Jophiel by end of day,” Olly says. “Or he begins disseminating information regarding unauthorized lineage experimentation and certain… anomalies present within Primaris conversion data… And he goes after Lullaby.”

Claude mutters something sharp and Low Gothic under his breath.

“I assume,” Claude says, “that complying was never under consideration.”

“No.” Olly says shaking his head, “He’d only twist the deal to make it more suitable for his tastes.”

“Good.” Claude responds. Claude folds his arms, thinking rapidly. Olly lets him. Claude is very good at this part — assembling threat maps, social vectors, worst case spirals. “What is your current solution?”

“Nanael and I will lure him,” Olly says. “Contain him. Deliver him to Felix.”

Claude’s head snaps up. “You already spoke to Felix.”

“Yes.” Olly replies slowly, it’s not a decision he made lightly.

Claude closes his eyes briefly. Claude doesn’t curse- but that is a very near thing.

“That,” he says carefully, “is a very expensive choice.”

“Yes.” Olly agrees scratching one of his cheeks, and he hopes it’s not a choice that will haunt him too much in the future.

“How expensive?” Claude asks.

“One favor. Equivalent value. To be determined at his discretion.” Olly responds, he makes sure to say it softly, lightly, gently.

Claude stares at him. “Oleandros.”

“It was the most efficient path to guaranteed removal of threat.” Olly says jaw jutting out a little in stubbornness.

“That was not my question.” Claude says with a sigh.

Olly meets his gaze evenly. Claude sighs slowly, dragging a hand down his faceplate ridge. Making deals with Chaos was… never in the favor of the ones who were more desperate.

“All right,” Claude says. “We will survive Felix’s future whims later. What do you need from me now?”

“Khopesh must be informed,” Olly says. “Discreetly. He will notice if Jophiel’s behavior changes or if Nanael and I begin acting unusually. I would prefer he hear it from someone he trusts who can present it… with care.”

Claude tilts his head slightly. “You mean not you.”

“Yes.” Olly says, “It would seem more natural if you spoke to him- I worry that Faroh may be monitoring my movements.”

“That’s fair,” Claude says bluntly.

Olly accepts that without offense.

“Is Jophiel aware?” Claude asks.

“No.” Olly says his gaze looking away from Claude at his quiet admission.

Claude swears again, quieter this time.

“He deserves to know before he becomes bait by accident,” Claude says.

“He will,” Olly says. “But not until containment planning is finalized. Panic could compromise safety.”

Claude studies him for several seconds, weighing that.

“…You’re right,” he admits reluctantly. “He’d try to confront Faroh himself. Or worse, volunteer.”

“Yes.” Olly winces- as flighty as Jophiel could be at times- if there was a threat to someone else he’d stand firm as any Astartes would.

“Stars, he absolutely would.” Claude says with a wince. “Got an idea how to handle him?”

“Lullaby and Jophiel will be together in a safe place- Jophiel as part of a look out to keep them safe.” Olly says. “You or Khopesh or someone else can talk about the two of them about things in a less… unpleasant way.”

They lapse into brief silence, wind stirring fallen leaves across the stone path.

Claude shifts closer, lowering his voice further. “What is the failure scenario?”

“If Faroh escapes,” Olly says, “... Faroh will - at least he implied that he’d go after Lullaby and release certain… Mars made alterations to the Primaris that are non-rubricon to those that may use it against those who have it.”

Claude nods once. He understands exactly how catastrophic that cascade could become.

“All right,” he says. “I will tell Khopesh. Carefully. He will want to help.”

“I expected as much.” olly says with a hum.

“Are you going to let him?” Claude asks.

Olly hesitates — very briefly — but Claude notices.

“…Within controlled parameters,” Olly says.

“That means no,” Claude translates.

“That means minimized exposure." Olly responds. 

Claude considers arguing, then decides against it. Not because he agrees — because he knows Olly has already optimized risk calculations six steps ahead.

“Where do you want Khopesh to meet me?” Claude asks.

Olly sends the coordinates through a short-range burst across their shared channel. Claude’s visor flickers acknowledgement.

“One more question,” Claude says.

“Yes?”

Claude studies him with an intensity that has nothing to do with tactics.

“You’re doing this because it is correct,” he says. “Or because you care about Jophiel personally.”

Olly pauses.

The stone in his hand gives a faint, brittle crack under unconscious pressure.

“…Both,” he admits.

Claude nods once, satisfied.

“Good,” he says. “Those tend to be the choices worth making.”

He steps backward, already dissolving into shadow. The darkness gathers around him like a cloak reclaiming its owner. Only his eyes remain visible for a moment longer.

“Try not to owe Felix two favors in the same week,” Claude adds dryly.

“I will endeavor to maintain fiscal responsibility,” Olly replies.

Claude snorts softly, then vanishes entirely.

Olly stands alone again in the winter park, vox bead warm against his temple, the weight of impending violence settling across his shoulders like a familiar mantle.

He checks the time.

Still so much left to do.

[raincloudsxrandomness]

Elite Force Character Flaws 

Chase

Chase was spoken to like he was an adult, an equal, or a computer from the moment he was born, so doesn’t know who he is without his bionics and being mission leader. He is arrogant and egotistical in an attempt to see important because he believes no one will keep him around if he’s not useful enough. His greatest fears are being replaced and being a failure. He can’t imagine his future self; assuming that he will die before he has a chance to grow old. 

Skylar

Skylar didn’t have a stable upbringing, and spent years as a comic book character instead of an actual living being. Losing her powers for years was the worst thing that could happen to her because she needs her powers to be the character ‘Skylar Storm’. She feels like she doesn’t belong on Earth or on her home planet, the only place she could call home was Mighty Med, and now the Diaz family and everyone they loved are gone, and she isn’t surrounded by other superheroes anymore, so she looks like even more of a freak, weirdo, and outcast. 

Bree

Bree is the scapegoat sibling. Everything is blamed on her for being too irresponsible and careless, but she’s just trying to find out who she is and what she wants to do with her life. She often has to put her family’s needs over her own dreams. Whenever she voices her opinions, her brothers, uncle and dad always made her feel like they didn’t matter. This leaves her resentful of the life she wanted to have, but wasn’t allowed to. Nobody cares nor understands and they expect her to suffer in silence.

Kaz

Kaz is more of a babysitter than a brother. Having 11 siblings, he was lost in middle, and constantly ignored, unless his younger siblings needed help with anything. His parents were constantly working to afford 12 children, his older brothers were both criminals, and most adults in his life labeled him as ‘dumb’ and ‘lazy’, so he didn’t have many role models to look up; hence his admiration for Tecton. Kaz worries his friends will grow tired of how annoying and selfish he is due to him being touch starved and ignored by everyone else in his life. His parents didn’t even notice when he moved out to Centium City, until people mentioned they saw him on the news to them. 

Oliver

Oliver grew up with two very strict and demanding parents. His dad was serious, emotionally distant, and detached, while his mom was overprotective, controlling, and obsessive. No one comforted him about their divorce, and he was never given any time to process it. Horace was a better parent figure than either of them, and raised him after his Dad ghosted him and Mom became a supervillain, but when Mighty Med was destroyed, he lost his new family as well. Growing up, he and Kaz were very co-dependent on each other, but now they have the Elite Force, Kaz doesn’t need him anymore; leaving Oliver jealous, possessive, defensive, and resentful. 

[willslight]

(OK SO!! its my first time writing something byler, so I really hope you enjoy 💛💙)

The last of the many letters Mike never sent to Will, written in the quiet moments between shared rooms and avoided eye contact.

About loving someone for years without knowing how to name it — and the fear that telling the truth might ruin everything.

(Set just one day before the beginning of S5)

Almost (we were never just friends)

Dear Will,

I’ve never been good at talking, especially about my feelings, so I thought I’d try writing — even if I don’t really think you’re ever going to read this letter, like all the others I’ve written to you before… or if I’ll even finish it.

You’re probably helping my mother set the table for breakfast right now.

I know what I’m about to write will sound stupid, but I’ve memorised the little path you take every morning: the hour you wake up, the sound you make on the stairs, how you lay the plates out from right to left and not left to right… and the way you avoid my eyes.

And I’m sure it’s me — that I’m the one who did something to ruin things between us. And I know I’m also the one who should speak up, but I’m not that brave, and that’s why I’m here, writing this… whatever this is… instead of secretly spying on you from the stairs, as I’ve been doing these past months.

I’ve always known it was something different with you. It just didn’t click right away.

I remember the frustration when you went missing and no one seemed to believe you were still alive as strongly as I did. I remember asking myself why nobody had the same need I had to find you, to hold you and feel that you were okay. How strange it felt to notice that Lucas didn’t feel the urge to hold your hand, or that Dustin didn’t blush when you looked at him the way I did — or how everyone but me failed to notice those small (huge, for me) changes in the sound of your voice and in the light in your eyes.

I used to ask myself why I seemed to be the most terrified of losing you, and why the others didn’t feel that same protectiveness towards you. I got so frustrated and confused about it, because for me, it was everyday life.

I wasn’t able to connect the dots right away, and I hate myself for that.

I think I’ve loved you for a lifetime, but since it was the most natural thing I’ve ever felt, I just felt it — I never tried to understand why.

Looking back now, I understand that I could’ve done better, especially in the last couple of years. When you moved, I didn’t know what that gut-wrenching pain was about. My first guess was always El, because it had to be — it made the most sense. I was never that good at digging deeper into my emotions.

That's when I started writing you letters by the way, letters I couldn't bring myself to send, for a reason I didn't understand at the time.

It got weirdly real the moment I landed in Lenora, and even if I was finally holding her hand, I was still feeling that goddamn void. Only now do I realise it was because you were so close, and yet we were so distant.

I was awful to you that day. I know it seemed like I didn’t care, but it was really something else.

I was dealing with the disturbing realization that El wasn’t either the problem or the solution.

I was scared that you had found new friends, new best friends; that we were too far apart to ever grow close again; that I had to talk to El even though I didn’t know exactly about what; and that you seemed so nervous every time I was around that I thought you didn’t want to see me anymore.

And then it hit me — the moment you asked, “What about us?” Like lightning through a storm. I realised the words that were coming out of my mouth were a huge lie, but once they were out there was no way of taking them back. And again, I hate myself for that.

We’ve never been just friends. At least, not to me. You were always something dearer — something I couldn’t explain until that exact moment.

And I know it wasn’t up to you, but sometimes I still wonder what could’ve been if I had answered differently, or if you had reacted another way.

I think we both noticed the ups and downs after that. Something changed. I saw it in your eyes. And believe me, I was about to tell you the truth at least a hundred times — but I was too much of a coward.

The first time was in your room. I was so nervous. The situation itself wasn’t easy, but mostly it was because I couldn’t hold it in any longer. It was like those words at the skate park had opened a gate, and all my feelings for you came crashing into me. I needed to talk to you, but at the same time I was terrified you’d run away, or never be my friend again, or think I was a freak.

I think I actually started to say something that time. I didn’t lie — it just wasn’t the whole truth either. But at least I didn’t lie. You were so beautiful it was distracting, so much that I forgot the world was ending. I forgot what was possible and what wasn’t. I forgot about the problems we still had to solve, about El, about my dad, about the shame inside of me.

I think you caught me gazing at you, by the way. It was so embarrassing, but I couldn’t make myself look away. I was so goddamn close to telling you — but I couldn’t.

Then we almost died.

Then there was that time in the car, when you showed me the painting. I was stupid enough to think you had decided on your own to draw that for me — that it was your vision of me.

(That was the moment I understood why, when El told me in one of her letters that you were drawing something for a girl you liked, I got strangely irritated.)

But it wasn’t from you. And I felt so stupid for letting myself think — even for a second — that maybe I was the person you liked. And so guilty for not being happy that my girlfriend had commissioned a painting for me.

That guilt was eating me alive. I wish I could make my heart beat for El the way it beats for you.

Then you started saying all those beautiful things about how I made El feel, and it got even worse (it’s not your fault), because all the things you said were exactly the way you make me feel — but I wasn’t even crossing your mind. So I lost hope and tried to hide it as best as I could, even though I know my protectiveness towards you — and the sparks you make me feel — betrayed me a couple of times.

Then we almost died again.

And I felt like the sequence of events in our lives was going exactly the opposite way of what was happening in my mind and soul. Every time something inside me clicked and made more sense, something outside would go wrong. I tried to ignore it, but at a certain point it almost felt like a sign — like someone or something was trying to tell me I shouldn’t feel this way, that it wasn’t right, that if I kept feeling it, things would keep going wrong. So I tried to suppress it. It wasn’t easy, but I had to.

I felt like my love for you was destroying the world. And even though there was nothing I wanted more than to love you, and not doing so was killing me, I couldn’t risk everyone’s life for what I wanted.

So it all started again, from the beginning. Only this time, I was aware. I am aware.

I still feel like I’m burning up when you sit next to me on the couch, when my mum sends us to do chores together, when we go to the hospital to see Max and the waiting room is full so we have to sit close and our knees brush. I still get that huge, shameful feeling when my dad catches me looking at you, or when we go to El’s and I still can’t bring myself to tell her the truth — even though I know she would understand, and I’m sure she already suspects something.

I think I was about to confess this to you at least five times in the last two days.

But I can’t. I still don’t know if I’m able to do it. Saying everything out loud would make it all real — all the mistakes I’ve made, all the wasted chances, all the lies, all the times I brushed your hand with mine on purpose and tried to make it look like an accident when it wasn’t. And I don’t know if I can handle that, if the world can or if I’m just hiding behind this stupid excuse.

So again, I find myself here, cowardly writing that I love y—

[deception-united]

Let's talk about internal conflict.

Having clear external conflicts is essential to driving forward your plot, but internal conflicts help add depth and complexity to your characters. They'll make your characters better rounded-out, more believable, and relatable.

Internal conflicts are the struggles, doubts, and desires that exist within a character's mind and heart. They indirectly hinder them from reaching their ultimate goal by influencing their decisions, actions, who they choose to befriend, their fears, or how they react in different situations.

Here are some ways to integrate and determine your characters' internal conflicts:

Explore their desires and fears. Figure out what goals are they striving to achieve and their motivations behind it. From here, delve into their fears and insecurities that could obstruct their progress by causing internal turmoil. This duality adds depth to their personalities and motivations.

Show conflicting emotions. Characters should experience a range of emotions, sometimes simultaneously. They may feel torn between loyalty and self-interest, love and duty, or ambition and morality. Allow these conflicting emotions to drive their decisions and actions, leading to internal tension and growth.

Develop a backstory. Every writer's favourite step. Determine how their past experiences, traumas, and relationships create internal conflict for them. Past events or unresolved issues play a key role in shaping their beliefs, values, and behavior, influencing their present-day struggles.

Use moral dilemmas. Present your characters with ethical dilemmas or moral choices that force them to confront their beliefs and values. These situations can reveal the depth of their character and provoke internal conflict as they wrestle with the consequences of their decisions, as well as providing further insight into their personality and character.

Show internal growth. Allow your characters to evolve and grow throughout the story by facing and eventually overcoming their internal conflicts. Make them struggle. Have them make bad choices out of fear, or love, or jealousy. Force them to deal with the consequences. And turn that—the confrontation of their fears, reconciliation of their desires, the difficult choices—into a transformative journey.

Hope this was helpful! Make your characters suffer ❤

Next

[azriolblu]

HELLO! if anyone remembers my last poll, Pierrot won! I just finished working on his fic today, and I’ll get Doctor’s done soon. I honestly took on a much more angsty angle for Pierrot but it was very interesting…

Anyway, here’s your summary! I hope you enjoy the fic!!!

————

Summary

It was a lot in two days.

Your whole life being turned upside down, suddenly being smothered by someone you barely knew—but there was some love there.

It was simply a heavy weight to bear.

[Reader] did care for him, really.

They just needed a bit of time.

————

Read “A Love Bomb” here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/81960781