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amsgrey · 1 year

Text

Useful Skills

Shadow Summoner! Fem Reader x Kaz Brekker

SPOILERS for Wylans story arc and season two of shadow and bone.

Slow Burn with Kaz because he deserves someone willing to go his pace.

Synopsis: Kaz needs new blood and it comes in the form of Wylan's childhood best friend. A powerful Grisha.

warnings: angst, I did my best to be accurate to Kaz but show Kaz is a little different from Book Kaz so I'm still learning, general angsty crap, and mention of the reader being related to the darkling (trying to make it a little accurate to the books/show)

You had known Wylan Van Eck for almost 8 years, your mother was a maid in his house. You and your mother lived in the servant's quarters on the Van Eck property, meaning you spent almost all your time around him and his family. You never went to a proper school, your mother didn't want you to when you lived in Ravka in case the Grisha testers came. She kept your abilities hidden until you moved to Ketterdam where Grisha testers wouldn't find you.

Your mother died a few years ago, and you left the Van Eck house and found work as a server in a Pub. It was not a job you were happy with but it kept a roof over your head so you would suffer through it for now. You lost touch with Wylan until one day when he entered the pub with three other people.

You almost didn't recognize him, he hadn't grown much from when he was a child but he looked a little more confident. He was sitting against a lanky zemeni boy, exchanging hopelessly smitten glances. Opposite them was a woman dressed in a beautiful gown and a man clad in all black with almost no skin showing. They were in complete contrast to Wylan and the Zemeni boy, sitting as far away from each other as possible.

It was the end of your shift when another server seated them in a booth at the far end of the pub. You knew you had to walk past them to get to the back, where your bag was stored in a small closet away from customers, but walking past meant possibly being recognized.

You hadn't left the Van Eck residence in good faith, having lost your temper at Wylans father for working your mother into the ground and causing her death. When Wylan had tried to speak with you, you had snapped at him and stormed away. Did he hold that against you and would he be hostile? Why was he here of all places?

You tried not to think about it, walking straight passed the table and through the back. You stumbled around the chefs and untied your apron, shoving it in your bag. You took a deep breath before heading back the way you came. You opened the door and stepped out, sidestepping around another waiter serving food at a table close by. As you tried to walk past the table Wylan was seated at, a cane blocked your path.

You stared down at the black cane blocking your path, following it to the gloved hand which held it. You didn't have to remember his name to know who he was.

The man clad in black stared at you, "Y/N, take a seat."

You almost laughed, stopping yourself before offending the bastard of the barrel, "And why would I do that?"

"Because your skills are wasted here."

You would be lying if you weren't interested. But how did Dirtyhands, leader of the Dregs, know what skills you had?

The Zemeni slid over a little more on his side of the booth, dragging Wylan along with him. You hesitantly sat down, avoiding eye contact with Wylan.

"Hi," Wylan squeaked out, offering a shy smile. Your heart melted slightly Wylan was the kindest soul you had ever met. He wouldn't dare hurt a fly and didn't deserve the mistreatment he got from his father.

"Hey,' You replied, feeling any tension resolve. You offered him a smile, watching the anxiety melt away from his face. To further remove any tension, you stole a piece of bread from his plate that sat untouched in front of him. Picking off a piece and eating it casually.

The girl on the opposite side of the booth giggled, following your lead and humming an appreciative sound at the taste.

"So..?" You turned to Brekker, "What is it exactly that you think my skills are?"

Kaz's eyes flickered from you to Wylan next to you, "Wylan tells me you have a unique talent."

You paused your movements, turning to narrow your eyes at Wylan, "Did he just," You grumbled. You had shown Wylan your summoning when you were both 15. He was your best friend and swore he would never tell another soul, he was the only person you knew who wasn't scared of shadow summoning.

Wylan stumbled over his sentence, "I didn't, uh, tell him everything."

Kaz's face morphed into a scowl.

This time you did laugh, "So you came here on a whim?"

Kaz opened his mouth to speak but was beaten by the woman.

"We need your help to break someone out of Hellgate."

Your face gave away your surprise, you had never been anywhere near Hellgate but you knew the stories, "Hellgate? As in the most secure place in Ketterdam?"

"Wylan seems to think you can help us," Kaz said.

You looked at your childhood friend, thinking over the specifics. You just might be able to help but summoning meant exposing yourself and your abilities. The Fold and The Darkling were gone, but how would people react to another shadow summoner?

"So," the Zemeni spoke, his arm draped over Wylans shoulders, "You in?"

Stepping into the Slat for the first time felt strange. You hadn't been in a warm, dry place for years. Finding it now in the middle of the barrel felt counter intuitive. You weren't expecting it, but once you stepped past the threshold you were hit by a wave of warmth.

You were somewhat jealous, your own room in the boarding house was never this warm. And you lived on the outskirts of the barrel and the financial district.

The bottom of the slat held a bar that had seen better days, to say the least. Kaz led the way to another booth, clearly the group's go-to planning table. Maps of Hellgate and various scribbled notes were perched on the wood.

You slipped into the booth and sat next to Nina, who had talked your ear off the whole walk to the Slat about Matthias the (former) Düskelle and love of her life. You didn't mind, enjoying listening to something more upbeat than the drunken rambles of patrons you were used to. Besides, it was clear she was head over heels and you always tried to help out fellow Grisha.

As Kaz went over what he was planning, you listened intently. He had fleshed out almost every part of the plan, but kept on ending up with one key factor.

"We'll be seen."

You shared a glance with Wylan.

"I can help with that."

Kaz quirked an eyebrow, waiting for you to explain further. You were hesitant, they could fear you and kill you on the spot. Or you might have to kill them.

You looked around the room, by now it was so late into the night that even the bars would be closing. There was no one else in the Slat. The last Dregs had crawled in half an hour ago and were nowhere to be seen. It didn't mean anyone couldn't walk in at any time.

Nina could feel your heartbeat grow more erratic, "No one is around." She said, trying to assure you with her small science.

"The Dregs won't interrupt us while we're in here," Kaz spoke, for a second you thought you saw curiosity in his eyes.

"Just-" You took a shaky breath, you hadn't shown anyone your powers since Wylan. Only using them in hiding to avoid growing weak. For the longest time, your mother scolded you for using your powers, teaching you the dangers of summoning anywhere that wasn't in private.

"Never tell anyone," She would mumble, wrapping you in her arms as you both curled up on the small bed in your room in the servants quarters of the Van Eck Mansion, "Your powers are your gifts, but they are your crimes too, Milaya. If anyone finds out they will punish you."

You broke the rules she set out only once, with Wylan. Were you ready to risk your comfortable life for these people you just met?

"It's hard to explain," You leant back against the booth, twisting your fingers nervously, "It's easier to show."

Kaz gestured impatiently, waiting for you to show them.

"Wylan said your Etherealnik," Jesper said flippantly, "We have a heartrender," He gestured loosely to Nina, "A wonderful durast," He grinned and gestured to himself, "About time we add an Etherealnik.”

You smiled, "Well if you're so sure."

You pressed your palms together, pausing for a second and then pulling them apart. Twisting your hands in opposite directions, your fingers moved independently to call the shadows to you. For a fleeting moment, it was like the world was losing colour, and then darkness was gathering around your hands, amassing between your palms.

You heard Nina gasp but ignored her to focus on your shadows. They reached out in tendrils, spreading up your arms as they tried to block the light from you. You pressed your hands back together, and the shadows expanded quickly and overcame the room, plunging space into pitch black. As soon as the darkness overcame the room, you called it off. Returning the room to its usual light.

Once the room was back to what it was before, you glanced around at the faces of the Crows. Wylan had the same impressed smile he had all those years ago, forever in awe of your powers. Nina was staring wide-eyed at the table, a slightly unreadable look on her face. Jesper's jaw was slack, mouth agape and blinking rapidly.

You were surprised to see Kaz wasn't at all shocked. He had the slightest smirk, not an ounce of fear or hesitation on his features.

"Those skills," He said with the same smirk, "are definitely of use."

Getting into the Hellshow hadn't been an issue. You and Nina had gotten on a boat and calmy taken seats towards the back of the crowd. Nina had to keep her face somewhat hidden, deciding on tailoring herself slightly to avoid Pekka's gaze. She had told you briefly about the last time she was here, trying to deliver the pardon Nikolai Lanstov convinced the Kerch government to write. She had been thrown out on Pekkas orders, pardon ignored. She was forced to leave not knowing how Matthias was.

You felt bad for her, it was hard to be separated from those you loved. Not that you ever had anyone other than your mother, but when she died you would have done anything to bring her back.

"So," You turned to Nina, squished up against her to avoid being too close to the drunken men beside you, "What exactly is the hellshow?"

Nina's brow furrowed in disgust, "The prisoners fight for better living conditions, food, a visit from family. It's barbaric."

She was looking over the crowd, eyes filled with silent fury. You followed her gaze to where a bearded man sat surrounded by burly prisoners. She pointed him out, "Rollins." Her voice held a hatred you hadn't thought possible of her.

You had stopped Kaz the night before, asking him what you were thinking again now, "Why don't we just kill this Pekka Rollins?"

Kaz had given you an annoyed look - although almost all of his looks were annoyed. He gave you no answer, but Jesper had filled you in on how Kaz had something personal against Rollins, something about Rollins running a con that lead to his brother's death. The specifics he didn't know. Kaz was a mystery, even to those that he seemed closest with. He seemed to like it that way. In the week it took for you all to plan the heist, you had learnt very few things about the bastard of the barrel.

Almost immediately you noticed how well he kept his thoughts and emotions hidden. At first, you had jokingly declared you would hate to play cards against him and Jesper confirmed he yet to win against his boss. Then you started to admire him, the calculated look in his eyes and the strength he projected made him the force The Barrel knew him as. Every now and again you could see a crack in his resolve. The way a corner of his mouth would quirk up for a fleeting second when Jesper made a particularly terrible joke. The quick flash of a solemn emotion - regret? pain? - when he was accused of being heartless by Nina or Per Haskell.

The other thing you noticed was entirely by mistake. It was obvious how Kaz was never without his gloves, it was the first thing you noticed about him. You didn't need to know why, everyone had their cruxes. You kept your own hidden, you assumed he did too. Then you noticed how he kept himself away from others. He never stood too close or flinched away from others' touch. You noticed it quickly and adjusted, trying to respect his boundaries. To you, it was the least you could do after what he had done for you.

You didn't think the boy had noticed, but he had. Kaz had been interested in your mysterious nature too. You kept hidden well, he hadn't expected you to shadow summon even though Wylan had warned him you were uniquely talented. He had to make assumptions about you, you looked quiet and well-mannered. But he had been surprised to learn you were anything but. You spoke your mind with little regard for manners or etiquette. Kaz grew to admire it. Not many people argued with Dirtyhands, or offered different plans from his own, but you were constantly challenging his ideas and in many ways, making them better.

Kaz couldn't, however, find your crux. It infuriated him, he found himself watching you and trying to learn more. That infuriated him more.

He could see you seated in the bleachers now, but you couldn't see him. He had slipped into the arena unnoticed by Pekkas men, hiding away from their gazes.

The plan was set in motion when Wylan and Jesper made their first move. You and Nina would then find Matthias' cell and Kaz would lead Jesper and Wylan to you. The plan was to break him out of the cells and smuggle him hidden in your darkness. Nina had told you how Matthias had been unlearning Druskelle's ideas, but he still might be hostile towards you. It made you nervous, using your power in public for the first time with the risk of Matthias messing you up. It was a considerable risk. Nina had tried to reassure you she would prevent him from interfering.

There was a far-off rumbling, then a muffled boom. You and Nina pretended to be startled like the other patrons, adding to the panic as fog started to fill the arena. As the crowd panicked and headed for the exits, you subtly summoned your shadows to extinguish the lamps around the room. The darkness drew more panic. You and Nina used it to slip past the crowds and into the hallway leading to the cells.

You almost stabbed Jesper as he came barreling around the corner in his guard's uniform. He reeled back, hands over his chest in surprise as the sudden blade.

"Saints," You swore, pocketing the knife and reaching to steady the boy, "I thought you would be slower."

“Change in plans,” Kaz said with no further explanation, "Wylan's bombs will distract the guards for a time. We need to find the frejdan quickly."

You nodded, resuming your position and following Nina as she searched for Matthias' heart. Occasionally you would clasp your hand around her wrist - a gesture not missed by Kaz. Nina had figured out quickly you were an amplifier, allowing you to help her search more efficiently. She hadn't told anyone else, because she knew what it meant. A shadow summoner who was also an amplifier? It was undisguisable the relation there.

Your group halted at a large bolted door, Nina mumbled out how she was sure Matthias was in a room beyond.

"What about guards?" Wylan spoke quietly, half hidden by Jesper, who had his pistol in hand. Wylan was in a guard's uniform too, but it looked much bigger on him, giving him an almost adolescent look.

Nina paused, "Three."

You turned to Kaz, watching him as ideas turned around in his mind.

"Wait-" Nina spoke again, crossing her hands together, "There's more than just guards."

"How do you mean?' You pressed.

"There are men in the main space," She explained, "Prisoners perhaps?"

"Rollins." Kaz hissed. None of you could know for sure, but it seemed likely. This changed everything, you had all been operating under the assumption that the prisoners were locked in their cells during security breaches. At least, that had been what Kaz's inside source had told.

"Jesper and I should go in," You said, offering a plan before Kaz could, "I can hide us, Jesper can open the door and-"

"No," Kaz interrupted. You were taken aback, he didn't even let you finish.

"Matthias doesn't know you," Nina said desperately, her voice slightly louder than the whispers in which you had all been conversing. "He won't go with you."

You shook your head in frustration, "I can't hide all of us. Even if I could, we don't have a plan.”

"Everyone stop talking," Kaz snapped, his brows pulled together in concentration.

You bit back a smart remark, it wouldn't do any good now anyway.

"Nina, Jesper," Kaz started, "You take Wylan and create a distraction, explosion or whatever." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a watch, gesturing for Wylan to bring out his own, "When the minute clock is on the 8, something big that ensures we can slip out. Then you go back to Ketterdam, as quickly as possible."

That gave you all 25 minutes but meant Nina wouldn't see Matthias. Nina looked disheartened but waited for Kaz to finish.

"Y/N and I will get Helvar. We'll use the distraction to get out, and meet you back at the Slat."

"How will we get Matthias out of a locked cell?" You hissed.

Kaz fished something out of his pocket, opening his palm to show you the small silver lock pick.

"Of course," You sighed dramatically, "I should have known you know how to pick locks."

Kaz gave you an amused smile and a look that read, Do you even know me?

Nina reached up to her neck, unclasping a necklace she always wore, "Give this to Matthias, so he knows you are with me."

You nodded, tucking the necklace in the pocket of your skirt to keep it safe.

Kaz sent the three away but not before Jesper worked his Durast science and unlocked the door.

You turned to Kaz, "I can hide us, block the light, but I can't disguise sound."

Kaz followed your gaze to his cane, nodding once in understanding.

You took a deep breath, it was now or never. Kaz pulled the door open as quietly as possible, watching your face contort in effort as you called shadows to you to surround the both of you.

You turned to Kaz before stepping into the room, "You'll have to stay close."

You didn't wait for his response, just took a dubious step into the room and pressed against the wall. Nina had said Matthias was in the 5th door on the left, but once you had entered you realized just how open the space was.

The fifth door was in the middle of the circular space, the only cover would be from Pillars of stone that held the roof up. You spared a glance at Kaz, who was standing mere centimetres away from you on your back, his cane held firmly in his grasp off the ground. Standing so close to him felt different, you hadn't expected him to be so cold. It was like he was drawing your heat away from you, which you welcomed. You were always too warm, something about the effort of summoning made you overheat easily. Your mother used to say your skin always felt feverish. Now for the first time, you felt balanced.

Kaz felt it too. How heat rolled off of you in waves. Being so close to you warmed him, which seemed impossible. He hadn't felt warmth since he was a boy, since before the Queen Lady’s Plague. You sensed his unease, looking at him and offering the smallest of apologies, your voice so quiet he hardly heard it.

He nodded for you to continue, trying not to get caught up in the feeling of being close to you. You both counted the doors as you inched along, stopping as you reached the fifth door. Kaz slowly bent down, and you spotted a flash of pain as he moved his leg. He faced the lock and started working while you stood beside him watching the courtyard.

Nina was right, there were more than three men in the room. At least eight were seated around a makeshift table, sitting on the table itself was one Pekka Rollins. You could hear the vulgar conversation he was keeping, it made you think about how much Kaz hated him. You startled when there was a soft clang, the noise echoing off the cobble walls. You turned to look at Kaz, who was silently cursing himself and staring at the lockpick resting on the floor.

"What was that?" A rough voice groused.

Rollins climbed up from his seat, he took a few slow steps towards where you were hidden in the shadows. The lanterns on the walls weren't lit, you had made sure to block the one that was nearby on a pillar to avoid any obvious shadows. Rollins was staring into the darkness like he could see you, it made you so nervous you could feel your heart beating out of your chest.

Rollins snatched a lantern from the table, holding it up and taking a few more slow steps. You tried to step back slightly but only nudged Kaz. If he noticed, he didn't react, still working on the lock. As Pekka drew closer, the lock clicked open, allowing Kaz to push the door open. He blindly reached out, grabbing your wrist, pulling you into the cell, and shutting the door behind you as quietly as possible. Almost as quickly as he had held your wrist, he let go, stepping away as you held your palms facing up to draw the shadows back into the room to avoid Rollin's suspicions.

Thankfully, it was only Matthias in the cell. He had stirred from sleep at the sounds of footsteps, when he opened his eyes you stumbled around Kaz to shove your hands over Matthias' mouth to stop any words from coming out. The Frejdan made a disgruntled noise, sleep leaving his eyes and his hands locking onto your wrists with a deathly tight grip.

"You alive in there, Helvar?" Rollin's accent gave way to his chuckle, he kicked the door, causing it to rattle and groan.

You and Kaz stared at Matthias, urging him to keep his mouth shut. With any luck, Pekka would leave and chalk it up to the sleepy groans of a prisoner. You should have known luck was not on your side.

"Helvar," Rollins barked, this time bringing his fist against the door.

You pulled your hands away from the druskelle. Mouthing "Please" to him.

"Leave me be," The Frejdan spoke hoarsely.

Rollins let out an ugly chuckle from the other side of the door but after another few tense moments, you heard footsteps moving away.

You stepped back, accidentally bumping into Kaz in the cramped space. Matthias moved from the cot, fixing you and Kaz with a dirty glare that made you even more nervous.

"Who are you?"

"We're friends of Nina," You tried to explain, beating Kaz to speak because you knew he would only escalate the situation.

Matthias' face turned sourer, within a blink of an eye he was moving. You had no time to react as he grabbed you and pushed you against the wall, his forearm pressing against your throat. He put enough pressure to limit your air, like he was trying to warn you, not to hurt you. You quickly touched your hands together and reached out to summon. Matthias grabbed your wrist and slammed it against the wall. It made a sick crack, pain blooming through your wrist and hand. You let out a string of curses, biting your tongue to avoid being too loud.

Kaz used the crow end of his cane to press against Matthias' neck, "I suggest you let go, Helvar."

Matthias let out a soft growl as he spoke, "Who are you?"

His accent was so pronounced, every word he spoke in Kerch was thick with the Frejdan accent he would never be rid of.

"Friends of Nina," You insisted, "In my left pocket, Nina gave me her necklace."

Matthias loosed his grip slightly, looking from your face to your skirt's pockets. He let go of your wrist, but you daren't move it. He slowly fished out the necklace, holding it up to study the delicate chain. He slowly moved his forearm off of you, stepping back and staring at you with wide eyes.

As soon as he was the step back, you pulled your wrist to your chest. Kaz's eyes flickered from you to the giant Frejdan in the middle of you.

"Can you..?"

You shook your head, "Maybe," you pulled your wrist away from your chest and flexed your fingers. Pain shot up your arm, causing your face to twist in a grimace.

"You are..." Matthias paused, "...Grisha."

You nodded, "I was our ticket out of here."

Kaz scowled at the Frejdan, something about his look made you think he might leave the Drüskelle here after all.

"I'll make it work," You said, pushing the pain to the back of your mind to continue with the job.

Kaz looked like he wanted to say something, but didn't. He tried to move over as much as he could letting you shuffle past and stand in front of the door.

You turned to look at the druskelle, "Don't make any noises, they will hear it."

Matthias' brows pinched together, he looked to Kaz for an explanation but the boy just ordered him to stay close.

You took a deep breath, forcing your broken hand to open so that you could summon. Moving your fingers was hard, they were reluctant to dance like usual when you summoned. You pressed past it, drawing the shadows to conceal your group, opening the door slowly and sneaking out. Kaz and Matthias stayed close behind you, following you all around the room back to the exit. As you solely opened the door, a far-off bell started to sound.

"Jesper," Kaz said quietly.

You nodded, quietly slipping into the corridor and ushering Kaz and Matthias in too. You dropped the shadows once the door closed, ignoring the incredulous stare Matthias was giving you. Kaz led the way back through the corridors and winding hallways, leaning heavily on his cane as he walked. You knew that the time he had spent off it must have caused him pain, you felt bad that the plan had gone so terribly wrong.

Kaz seemed to always have a backup plan because he led you and Matthias out of Helgate like a man on a mission. You stumbled along behind him, keeping your wrist held to your chest. Kaz led you and Matthias down a stairway, the door at the end lead into the night air. You were surprised to find a small balcony, a rotten wooden platform perched on the rocks. The saltwater had eroded away the wood on the front, making it creak and flake dangerously under your feet. Kaz made quick work of slipping down the platform and onto the rocks, he pressed his palm against the wall to steady himself. He turned back to you and Matthias waiting impatiently for you both to follow him. Matthias went first, stepping down easily, making the drop look like a small step. You tried to step down with some sense of balance, but your foot found a slippery rock and you tripped forward. You hit into Kaz, who steadied you with a hand to your bad arm. You hissed and recoiled, watching Kaz's face change.

"Sorry," You whispered, noticing how he swallowed thickly, panic barely contained in his eyes.

Kaz took a moment, looking at your genuine expression. He knew that you knew, but you made no move to ask about it his weakness. For that, he was grateful.

Kaz pushed out of his haunted thoughts, turning and leading the way across the rocks and around the outside of Hellgate. You had been walking for ten minutes when the rocks started to mix with chunks of rubble. Walking on the rocks with the rubble moving underneath your feet became harder. You all slowed down and clung to the wall for the extra support it gave.

"Saints," You murmured when you came across the gaping hole in the wall made by Wylans explosives.

"Wylan knows what he's doing," Kaz quipped, slight amusement in his tone.

It took your small group at least two hours to get back to the Slat. The majority of that time was spent in a tiny row boat getting sloshed by freezing water. You were sat next to Kaz while Matthias rowed, you had offered your help but he had huffed in Frejdan something that seemed like 'I can do it myself'.

By the time you all had entered the Slat, there had been no one on the streets and you were freezing. Matthias seemed to be dealing with the cold best, no doubt his childhood in the icy Frejda had trained him well. You and Kaz were shivering as you stumbled along, all of you were damp from your trip on the sea. Your skirts were soaked, making them heavier and heavier as you walked.

Stepping into the Slat would usually warm you up, but this time it didn't. You could see Wylan and Jesper sitting at the bar, watching Nina pace up and down. They all snapped to look at you when the door slammed shut behind you. Nina let out a tiny squeal, running and throwing herself into Matthias' arms. You and Kaz looked on briefly before stumbling further into the room.

"Saints," Jesper looked both of you up and down, "We thought maybe you'd died."

You let out a chuckle, "You can't kill weeds."

Kaz looked at you surprised and you offered him a smile.

"What happened?" Wylan asked, watching Nina and Matthias approach arm in arm.

Kaz fixed Matthias with a glare, "Your oaf broke Y/N's wrist."

Nina looked from Matthias to you, then stepped forward to assess your wrist. You offered her your hand without complaint, letting her heal it the little she could.

"It was a mistake," You defended Matthias, mostly from Kaz's dark stare.

Later that night, which had turned more to early morning, you sought out Kaz in his room. You had changed into dry clothes, your wrist wrapped to keep it steady until morning when you would find a healer. You walked up to Kaz's door, then hesitated. What if he was asleep?

You knocked anyway, gently so as to not startle him.

"Yes?"

You pushed the door open, stepping into the room slightly. Kaz didn't even turn from his perch at his desk to look at you.

"I- uh," Your voice came out much quieter than you were expecting, almost sounding broken.

Kaz stopped scribbling on the paper on front of him.

"I just wanted to ask," You spoke clearer this time, "If you were okay?"

Kaz turned to look at you this time, surprised. After a few days with the bastard of the barrel, you had gotten better at reading his subtle emotions. Even the ones he tried to hide deep in his eyes. Like the anxiety when you touched him, or again on the boat.

Kaz didn't answer, he didn't have to.

"You don't have to answer," You said after a moment of silence passed, "Everyone has their..." You searched for the right word.

"Weaknesses," Kaz said.

"Weaknesses." You agreed.

You took a small step forward, testing the waters. Kaz didn't tell you to back off or look fearful.

"We all have them," You continued.

Kaz nodded once, "And you?"

You smiled, "Dirtyhands doesn't know?"

Kaz looked away and sighed in exasperation.

You stepped closer, approaching the desk, "It's this."

You summoned your shadows, forming them into a small tangled shape in your palm. The shadows reached up your arm, trying to tangle their way around you. You dismissed them, staring at the empty space above your palm.

Kaz thought about how wrong you were.

"If you ever need to share," You took a step back, "I'll be here."

You left him at his desk, exiting the room and closing the door behind you. Maybe it would take some time, but you were willing to wait if it meant becoming someone Kaz Brekker could rely on.

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carlyraejepsans · 9 months

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Oh! What are your headcanons for frisk? I know we don't know much about them in canon so it's hard to extrapolate but I'm still curious

oh sure! mind, these are all personal headcanon, as there isn't all that much canon info i can go off of, HAHAHA

obviously I don't think frisk had a happy home life, just like chara. but while chara's abuse was more active, i think frisk's abuse came from neglect rather than outright hostility or violence from the people around them. maybe they were a single, unwanted child. maybe they were among the last of many, many siblings. too many to be notable... or missed. so they left.

by the time the game starts, they've already been living on the streets (of the city that became of the village of the humans that chara was born in) for a few years. they get by with their wits. i think they're VERY clever, unnaturally so for their age, and judging from their ability to talk/charm themself into and out of anything in the game, they probably refined that skill for survival (you make yourself liked enough, people are quicker to show you kindness. leftover food, a dry shop window to sleep in at night, some used clothes).

undertale itself raises the question of why frisk climbed Mt Ebott. i like the idea that it was a force outside of themself. like a sudden, SOUL deep tension that would only release if they followed the call. an intrinsic certainty that, somewhere, somehow, someone really needed them. maybe it was fate. maybe it wasn't. maybe they were tied to chara's spirit long before they ever fell (by blood, as a long descendant? by magic? both?) and they were reacting to flowey calling out for them. point is, they felt the instinct, and they followed it.

because here's the thing: in my take on this, frisk desperately wants to be needed. that's what ties them so closely to chara. going with the more literal interpretation of them as a ghost, chara still has unfinished business in the underground. they haunt their former home, much like flowey did, and they NEED to see more of it, they just can't let it go. and they can't do it without frisk. they need them. so frisk goes along, because FINALLY, they're needed. that's why they reset at the end and try again, that's why they keep returning to the underground. but of course, chara isn't the only undertale character who needs frisk. the entirety of monsterkind does, and the entirety of monsterkind gets better thanks to their intervention. flowey, too. asriel, too. that's what resolves chara's unfinished business and allows them to finally let go (i mean... as long as YOU do, too, of course :])

and this is precisely the reason I'm not a fan of making frisk traumatized by their experiences in the underground. having leftover baggage from before they came? love that. but the whole point of their journey, to me, is that they were the single most powerful being in the entire story. the amount of liberties they could take, with their actions, with their words, with their own person, due to the sheer scale of power they had on everything else.. sure there was violence, and fear, and adventures and misadventures and betrayals, but when you can literally control time, i think that was almost euphoric for them.

after the life they used to lead, i like to think frisk saw their experiences in the underground as positive. no more powerlessness. no more loneliness. finally in (shared) control of their life. was it maladaptive as hell? yeah! but it was better than nothing! and if you've been following me for more than a month, you'll know by now that i am obsessed with the idea of a post pacifist, reset-heavy frisk freaking out AFTER their happy ever after, when chara doesn't follow them out of mt ebott and takes the SAVE power along with them (which is... kinda what happens in the game). being back to square one would mess them Up. fortunately, they now have a whole support system of family and friends who love them to make them feel needed and safe. it's gonna take some work, but man. it's gonna be worth it.

#i love you frisk you are my favourite narrative device #undertale #frisk #answered asks #chara

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meraki-yao · 7 months

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RWRB Movie Analysis: The Placement of Alex's Speech

Alright I’m really fucking sick of people complaining about the placement of the speech. (I swear, I write half of these essays out of irritation. But I’m happy while doing it so it all checks out)

Two things.

Regarding Henry’s consent

Use context clues people. Henry says, “Your speech was beautiful. Made me very proud to be your boyfriend.” It’s clear that Henry approves of the speech.

Again, what can be shown explicitly is restricted by the format. The point of Henry’s montages during the speech is to show how trapped and helpless he is in the situation. (for more, I wrote about it here.) The scenes need to keep that atmosphere/feeling of isolation and pain. If let’s say, we have a scene where the prime minister asks Henry about admitting and coming out, it would take away the consistent feeling of Henry’s pain. Cinematically, it won’t work. But that doesn’t mean in universe, it didn’t happen.

Also, Alex fucking loves Henry with every inch of his soul. He’s willing to fight for them, but he’s also willing to be patient for him. After getting his feelings sorted out and knowing with 100% clarity that he’s in love with Henry, he is never, ever going to do something that so obviously would hurt Henry. He would rather get hurt himself than hurt Henry. (Corresponding Book Quote: “Alex wants to go to war for this man, wants to get his hands on everything and everyone that ever hurt him.”) He wouldn’t make the speech without knowing Henry is okay with it. He just wouldn’t, that would straight up be out of character. So the fact that he did, means one way or another, he has Henry’s consent. And Henry later approving the speech in the piano scene, proves that. (It’s completely possible that the script itself meant to explain it this way, but if at any point they might have explicitly discussed coming out, my guess would be the Kensington breakfast scene, Prime, I’m coming for your hard drives—)

Regarding the placement of speech

There are two reasons for this.

One irl reason, is again, the format of the medium, and movie story telling. You want the tension to continuously build, increase and move upwards, then get a big but concrete resolution, and then this part is over. Having the speech as a conclusion after the balcony wave will not feel as well resolved as directly having the speech, then ending this part of the story with the big, big protest and balcony wave.

But there’s a diegetic/ in universe reason as well.

A lot of people, especially those who complain that Movie Alex is a himbo (also spite writing an essay on that, WIP, stay tuned), forget that Alex is a budding politician, and in fact, is a damn good one.

He, despite being kind of confused about his sexuality (read this essay for more), figures out Miguel’s flirting is mostly trying to get his statements for his articles, and in a fairly polite and classy way, Alex declines. (The state dinner slip was because he was way too entranced by Henry) He was a speaker at the DNC. His Texas campaign ultimately won Ellen the election.

When is comes to these things, he knows what he’s doing, and he’s good at what he does.

Making the speech before the crown can make a statement, was a strategic move.

Henry told Alex about his grandfather’s stance on this during the Paris date. He also told, well, yelled at Alex about the pressures he has from the crown during the Kensington confrontation. Alex knows the King will disapprove of their relationship and attempt to shove Henry into the closet.

So he has to be the one to control the narrative. He needs people to listen to, and believe in his, or rather, their side of the story.

And here’s a bit about human psychology. When receiving a new piece of information, our first impression and subsequent judgement of said information tends to be persistent. If we are provided with a second piece of contradicting information, we will tend to treat the second piece with much more criticism and suspicion. The mindset would be “prove to me the first one is wrong” instead of “Which one of these is right”.

Therefore, for Alex to get more people on his side, he must speak first.

(I almost imagine this is the reason the White House blocked communication with the palace. That bugged me for a while, until I thought, if the White House doesn’t block communication and receive a demand from the palace, they aren’t really on grounds to refuse it without a diplomatic mess. It’s the equivalent of avoiding talking to someone you don’t want to approach with the excuse “Oh my phone was off sorry”)

Imagine it. If the crown does what the King originally proposed and claims all the emails are fabrications and denies that Henry is gay and in a relationship with Alex, then Alex’s speech will be viewed through tinted glasses of “this is a fabrication, this is a lie” and it will take much more persuading for people to believe in Alex, because their first judgement of the issue, would be the crown’s lie of a narrative.

But by making the speech first, people’s first judgement of the issue, would be Alex’s explanation, of it being an invasion of privacy, and of it being true. Even if the crown denies it, with the first judgement being Alex’s narrative, it would make it much easier to see through the lie, because in people’s head, they already assumed that Alex is telling the truth.

By making the speech first, Alex has won both himself and Henry, the pen to write history.

Making the speech first is in no way Alex disrespecting Henry.

By playing politics and strategy, Alex is protecting Henry in the most familiar way he knows.

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #rwrb movie #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #henry hanover stuart fox #firstprince #nicholas galitzine #taylor zakhar perez #rwrb thoughts #i am so sick of people criticising these things without actually thinking #alex fucking loves henry alright #i usually write from henry's pov because I get him more #first time writing alex pov #fun though #got to pull out my psyc notebook for this lol #rwrb analysis #meraki essay

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bearsbeetsbeskar · 4 months

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Sheep Days with Joel (post outbreak)

Word count: 5.9k (im so sorry i genuinely can't believe I wrote this much about an old man taking care of livestock) Rating: swearing, descriptions of an animal birth (I tried to make it not too gross or explicit), traumatic animal birth, discussions of labour and stillbirths Summary: At Tommy and Ellie's insistence of him finding a routine, Joel is appointed as the sheep caretaker in Jackson. After all, sheep are quiet, and do what they're told. How hard could it be? A/N: this is purely self indulgent, peepaw playing with animals. No romantic interest or pairing, just wholesome father daughter interactions, along with some other characters. Something about the holidays made me think about that conversation that Joel and Ellie had over the fire, and his dream of owning a sheep ranch, and before I knew it 5k was written. If you have read all of this, please know that I love you so incredibly much and you make it worth it to keep writing these silly little stories that bring me so much joy. main masterlist

Life in Jackson had a way of moving at the speed of molasses, while also propelling itself further into the future at the speed of light.

Some days were syrupy and slow, thick with palpable moments of survival, tension and freedom. Memories of what life was like before the outbreak. Other days however felt like the course of an electric current, with glitches and shocks jumping from one event to another, one threat to another in the span of a few hours in a day. Attacks from raiders during ambushes in the early morning, a group of coordinated clickers just outside patrol borders when dusk set in.

Even just the day to day events in Jackson could make one feel that life seemed to pass by at a static, yet dynamic pace, regardless of what routine you had fallen into in the modest settlement.

Joel was still getting used to it. The staticity, as well as the dynamism. Life before Jackson was nomadic. Rootless. Constantly on the run.

Endure and survive. That’s all that really mattered at the end of the day. The words bore a penultimate weight akin to the wartime motivational phrase, ‘keep calm and carry on.’

Well, that’s all Joel knew how to do.

Carry on.

Not so much the keep calm part, but he was no stranger to putting his head down and pressing forward when things got tough. Carrying on also meant being strong for others. Something which Joel is constantly reminded that he need no longer do now that he and Ellie are in Jackson. Now that they are safe.

And there is no shortage of people who tell him the same, including Tommy and Maria, and even Ellie.

“You gotta find something to do, man,” Tommy sighed and crossed his arms, leaning into the doorframe of the kitchen. “Something to help you get into a routine y’know.”

Joel glared at his younger brother. “The hell d’you mean I gotta find something, Tommy? I already have a routine.” He scowled and shifted his jaw.

This is the 3rd or 4th time the subject has been brought up and Joel’s just about had it. He doesn’t get it. He does things. He does stuff around the commune. He goes on patrol shifts, helps with the woodworking and labour jobs. He goes to some of the community events, like game nights held at the dining hall or movie nights- even though it takes a good 30 minutes of Ellie’s begging for his resolve to crumble, and he grumbles throughout the entire movie.

As if Tommy can read his mind, he responds. “Going on patrol doesn’t count as routine, Joel.”

Puffing out his chest and mirroring Tommy’s body language, Joel glares at his younger brother.

“And here we go again,” Ellie quips from her seat at the kitchen table.

There’s a smirk plastered across her face despite her gaze, focused intently on the weathered pages of an old astronomy book.

“You stay outta this.”

Joel’s clipped tone brokers no room for negotiation, Ellie’s known him long enough to recognize that. But that doesn’t stop her from pushing him, just because she can.

“You stay outta this. Rah rah rah. I’m Joel and I hate everything.” She mocks his deep southern drawl with exaggeration, continuing to look down at her book.

“Tommy’s right, Joel. Say whatever you want but you can’t just fill your days with the odd jobs around here. And going on patrol. And hanging with me.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Joel exhales, his nostrils flaring. “Ellie-”

“Look, dude,” she cuts him off, “I love you, but it wouldn’t kill you to find something else to do with your time. It’s not the end of the world. I mean, it is but c’mon. It’s like you’d rather get killed by a fucking clicker than step outside your comfort zone.”

At that, Tommy snorts and shakes his head.

“It’d be a hell of a lot less painful than this conversation, that’s for fuckin’ sure.” Joel huffs and puts his hands on his hips.

“There’s lots of other jobs in the commune that you could help out with. Jobs that you don’t even need skilled labour experience for.”

“Like what, Tommy? Teachers at the school? Volunteers for movie night?” His scowl deepens, as does the crease between Joel’s brows.

“Like training newcomers on patrol shifts, working at the clothing shop, working with the livestock-”

“Livestock? What kinda livestock?” Perking up in her seat, Ellie pushes the book away and turns to face Tommy.

“Just for the horses, chicken, sheep and pigs. Well, it’s really for the sheep ‘cause we came into a decent sized herd in the last couple months, and they’re a bit tricky to look after.”

Tommy runs his hands through his raven curls and chuckles. “No one’s been able to quite figure them out yet, and they don’t trust Jake- the caretaker for the horses and pigs.”

“Sheep?” Ellie’s mouth gapes open, her bright mischievous eyes finding Joel’s.

“Joel. Sheep.”

Already knowing where the conversation was headed, Joel tips his head back and looks up at the ceiling. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ.”

__________________________________________________

And that is precisely how Joel finds himself knocked on his ass, after getting headbutted by one of the older lambs, in an attempt to get their halter on and bring them into the barn.

“You little shit, get back here!” he barks at the young sheep as it trots away from him towards the food trough.

Rubbing the right side of his jaw and grimacing, he sits back on his hands, looking at the rest of the herd a few feet away from him. “I’ve a right mind to tell them to serve lamb for the rest of the month at the dining hall. How’s that sound?”

A few sheep at the hay bale turn to look his way, chewing absentmindedly before ignoring him again. It had been about ten days since Tommy enlisted Joel as the sheep caretaker, or as Ellie had so lovingly called him, Jackson’s resident shepherd, and Joel had to admit, the job wasn’t half of what he expected.

It turns out sheep weren’t quiet, and they certainly didn’t do what they were told. Sheep were actually a pain in the ass to keep. A royal pain in the ass. Much different than cows and horses, despite being herd animals.

Not to mention that they were creative, escape artists, always jumping over the fence of the pen or squeezing in between the slats of the fence. It was a regular occurrence to hear the phrase ‘loose sheep’ or ‘the sheep are out again’ being hollered across the main street, as a handful of them skittered across the main road, Joel out of breath as he jogged after them, the stitch in his side burning through his abdomen, while he knees ached incessantly.

His first week was spent just getting close enough to them so that he could tag their ears for the breeding records. Not that he could manage to even get a hand on any, especially the young lambs. As soon as he got within 8 feet of the herd they would scurry away, kicking and bucking into the air, or run right past him, as he keeled over trying to catch them. Needless to say, Joel didn’t manage to avoid getting headbutted and kicked a handful of times during those days.

Cursing, he dusted off his pants and leaned against the fence of the pen.

“How’s it coming?” Tommy’s voice called out to him from the opposite end of the pen.

Narrowing his eyes in response, Joel hunched over to rest his hands on his knees.

“Easy my fuckin’ ass you liar. These little shits are demons.”

Stifling a chuckle, Tommy rests his arms over the fence and looks down. “Like I said, it takes some time to get to know ‘em.

It was wrong to laugh at his brother’s misfortunes but he couldn’t help it as he watched Joel’s hulking figure tentatively approach the herd again before pausing as they all scattered around him.

“S’that why you haven’t been able to recruit any other unfortunate souls for this torture?” Placing his hands on his hips, he shifts his weight from one leg, appraising the herd.

“No,” Tommy huffs out an exhale, “most folks don’t have the time to commit or they don’t have an affinity for animals.”

He looks out at the horizon, scanning the snow covered peaks of the mountain range bordering the settlement, before his gaze returns to Joel. He smirks as that familiar scowl settles onto Joel’s face.

“I do not have an affinity for animals.”

Snorting, Tommy looks down at his feet again, nudging the toe of his boot into the hardened ground. “Is that so? That why no one else has been able to ride Callus out on patrol?”

Joel grunts. “That’s different. I wasn’t taking care of him, I was only riding him cause everyone else had their designated mounts.”

Lying through his teeth was easier than admitting that Joel actually loved having a special bond with the chestnut gelding that seemed to hate everyone else.

It took time.

Lots of hushed murmurs and praise for the gelding to learn to trust again. Not to mention that Joel seemed to have endless patience for the imposing gelding, never getting frustrated with him or upset when their progress seemed to regress. Plus, he had that quiet commanding authority that seemed to ease Callus’ nerves whenever he became frantic and anxious.

Before he knew it, Callus was following him around the paddock, poking his head out of his stall and nickering whenever Joel stepped foot in the barn.

“Whatever you say, Joel. Whatever you say.” The younger Miller shook his head and stepped back from the fence. “I’ll let you get back to it, since you got your hands full,” Tommy squinted and peered around Joel’s figure, “or, rather, your pockets full, I should say.”

Before he can even glance behind him, Joel feels a harsh tug on his back pocket, stumbling backwards as one of the young lambs tears a shred of the bandana in his pocket.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Gimme that back you piece of-” he bellows as the lamb prances away with the scrap of faded red cloth in its mouth, echoes of Tommy’s laugh fading into the background as he walks away.

_____________________________________________

A couple months later …

It had been roughly over a month since Joel started taking care of the sheep. Their upkeep became somewhat easier as Joel figured out their quirks and tricks to working with them, but the real difference was that Joel did indeed fall into a routine with them.

Everyday he got up before Ellie had to be up for school, and headed over to the barn to give them their morning feed. Then, he’d come home, eat breakfast, and walk Ellie to school, shortly before returning to clean their pen and stack hay bales in the barn loft. Sometimes he would even shear some of them when their coats became too thick. At the end of the day, he’d pick Ellie up from school and they’d have dinner together in the evening, then he would pop out again to feed them dinner and do a final night check before lights out.

They were surprisingly curious creatures, and smart. While he would mill about his different chores, they would follow him as he walked around the outskirts of the pen. When he was cleaning up the pen, they would nudge the wheelbarrow, knocking it over in the process.

Eventually, they stopped running from him and would eagerly approach as he walked through the barn into the outside pen, carrying a heavy hay bale for their breakfast or dinner.

When he’d get lost in his aimless thoughts, or stuck on paralyzing flashbacks, a panic attack brewing under the surface, he’d feel a tug on his sleeve or the back of his jacket.

Pairs of deep brown eyes surrounded by a halo of soft cloud like wool would simply stare back at him. Calmly grounding him back to reality. Not that he encountered those very often. What was even more surprising to Joel was that he had panic attacks way less often these days, his brain seeming to allow him some rest and solace from its usual fight or flight status. Even Ellie and Tommy noticed too, with Ellie pointing out that he was ‘less of a grumpy motherfucker than usual.’

He never named them, though. He wouldn’t allow himself that liberty.

They were just animals. Creatures.

Creatures, who in the beginning were ‘little shits with crack for brains and body padding like the Michelin man,’ according to Joel. Soon, however, ‘little shits’ turned into ‘little devils,’ which eventually turned into ‘little buggers,’ with an affectionate lilt behind the nickname.

It was Thursday today and the vet was coming by to look after the horses and give them their seasonal shots, along with the sheep, too. With temperatures dropping, the animals had to be prepared for the harsh onslaught of cold weather that was native to Jackson winters. Although the commune was prosperous and there was no shortage of food and supply, or need to ration, the animals were always of high concern.

“How much are you feeding them nowadays?” Dr. Joyce, the local vet, asked as she placed her stethoscope to the belly of one of the mature ewe’s.

“‘Bout 25 pounds of hay a day, and 15-20 pounds of grain on top of that.”

She hummed contemplatively as she shifted the stethoscope knob throughout the mass of wool covering the sheeps’ belly. “That’s quite a bit considering the size of the herd you have here.”

She nods to the rest of the herd munching away at their breakfast in the pen.

Joel shrugs in response. “That’s what Jake was feeding them beforehand but he suggested I up it as we come into winter, to help ‘em keep weight on.”

“Well, he’s certainly not wrong.” She reaches into her kit to pull out a packaged syringe, ripping open the wrapping and flicking the end of the needle two times. Small droplets of liquid ricochet out as she pinches the skin of the ewe’s neck, not covered in wool, and gently inserts the syringe.

“Is there anything else I should be doing? Or anything else I could do to help them more when winter hits?”

While Joel would admit that he still really has no idea what he’s doing taking care of these animals, it doesn’t mean that he won’t give his all in providing care to them. He’s come to realize he actually likes learning about the sheep, aspects of their care, behaviour and physiology. It scratches parts of his brain that were only really activated when he was contracting, woodworking, or other technical jobs. And he doesn’t half ass jobs, no matter the nature of them.

Dr. Joyce swiftly removes the needle within seconds, and smiles warmly at him.

“Nothing in particular, Joel. You’ve done a great job taking care of these guys so far, I know they’re not easy to look after.”

At that he chuckles and shoves his hands in his pockets as he leans against the stall door. “You could say that. There’s been a deep learning curve with ‘em that’s for sure.”

She nods and opens the back stall door that leads out to the pen, the ewe trots out to return to the herd. “Well, like I said, you’ve done a good job so far. Aside from keeping up with shearing them, although you won’t have to worry about that too much come winter, they’re pretty low maintenance. Keep them on lots of hay throughout the winter, and give them more grain to supplement for the colder weather. And some of them may need more than others, especially the pregnant ones.”

He nods along, running through the mental checklist of things he’s already been doing to increase their food supply, when he looks up at the vet.

“Pregnant?” His brows furrow and he frowns.

“Oh boy. I guess Jake left that part out when you took over?” The vet chuckles again as she takes in the dazed look on his face and scans the herd briefly.

“You do have a couple pregnant ewe’s here, probably at least 3 or 4. But that one,” she points to a particularly large sheep under the shelter that’s lying down, unkempt wool and hay covering half her face. “That one, 1633, she’s the furthest along. Probably another week or two before she pops.”

“A week?” Joel repeats it, disbelief still laced in his tone. “Shit, I thought she was just really fat. And lazy.” He narrows his gaze at the ewe, tilting his head slightly as he takes in the obvious rising and falling of her midsection, her legs barely tucked underneath her.

“Don’t worry, Joel, I know easier said than done,” she reassures him after clocking the worry etched into his features. “But sheep births are often fairly quick and easy, not as intense as horse or cow births due to their smaller size. I’ll be on call over the next week in case anything happens but just put more bedding in the stall here during the evenings for her, and keep her feed the same. She will handle the rest.”

Inhaling sharply, Joel nods, processing it all. She tells him what signs to look out for that indicate early labour, and gives him a brief list of things he can do to prepare, as well as supplies that could be helpful during the birth and afterwards. At least the doc will be there to help out so that he’s not completely on his own, despite being very out of his league.

“Sounds good, doc, I’ll call ya if I notice any changes in her or when she does drop.”

“Please, do. And I’ll see if Jake can come in for an hour or two during your off hours in the event she does go into labour then.”

__________________________________________

Three days after Dr. Joyce’s visit, 1633 goes into labour. Nearly 10pm, just as the settlement tucks in for bed and night shift patrols begin. Dr. Joyce was busy with another animal emergency, of course. Just his luck.

So, he recruits the next best thing, and gently wakes Ellie up after rushing back to the house after a night check. He hands Ellie the list of supplies that Dr. Joyce gave him and she blitzes throughout the house, gathering the different things in a box.

Of course, the curiosity, fear and excitement over an animal being born was not lost on his teenage daughter. She fired off a barrage of endless questions as she was right on his heels, following him throughout the house.

“Has her water broken? Is she in pain? What direction is the baby gonna be facing when it comes out? Did you call Dr. Joyce?”

“You bleat more than the damn sheep these days, y’know that? C’mon just get that stuff together for me.”

Joel huffs as he grabs a bucket from under the kitchen sink, thinking of what else he could grab. It had to be the night when Tommy and Maria were both out on patrol as well, leaving just him and Ellie.

God help him.

When they returned to the barn, the ewe was in the stall, lying on her side, bleating out her obvious discomfort. He quickly takes his thick jacket off, hanging it on a nearby post before stepping into the stall.

“Alright, honey, alright, it’s okay.” The low murmurs of his voice only seem to agitate the ewe more, as she bleats repeatedly while he approaches and crouches down beside her. His eyes never leave the ewe’s body.

“Ellie, hand me a couple big towels.” She reaches into the box of supplies and hands him two fluffy towels, crouching down beside Joel slowly. The ewe continues to let out loud long bleating groans, huffing as her body starts preparing for labour and her water breaks with an audible slosh.

“Shit. Well, there goes her water.” He huffs, his mouth pressed into a straight line as he tries to peek and see any signs of a muzzle or cloven hooves coming out.

Gagging and turning away slightly, Ellie groans.

“Ugh, okay that’s fucking gross!”

He gives her a disapproving frown. “You’ve seen worse before, calm down.”

“A clicker brain and exploding guts is not nearly as gross as this. How are you not freaking out?

Suddenly, the ewe lets out a long bleating groan again and thrashes her hind legs, in an attempt to get up frantically.

“Shit. Whoa, whoa, whoa, mama. Easy there. Y’can’t get up just yet.” He hovers over the sheep and tries to coax her back on the ground.

“Ellie, come around here, help me keep her on her side.”

She shuffles around to Joel’s other side and buries her hand into the soft thick wool, gently pressing down. “Have you ever done this before?”

Joel grunts while he tries to contain its flailing legs, preventing the ewe from rolling over or getting up.

“Nope,” he strains. “I’ve seen one or two cow births, long time ago when I was growing up in Texas.”

“Shouldn’t be too different,” he says breathlessly, saying a silent prayer as he pulls the sheep away from kicking at the stone wall of the barn. “As long as she stays on the ground like this, she should be okay, she can’t get up or roll over though ‘cause it could hurt or suffocate the baby.”

“Okay, okay,” Ellie exhales shakily, wincing as the sheep bleats loudly.

“Hey,” he turns to gaze down at the teenager, his voice quiet but authoritative. “It’s gonna be okay, look at me.” Her dazed gaze snaps from the ewe up to meet Joel’s big brown eyes. Anxious. Focused. “It’s gonna be okay alright? She’s gonna be okay?”

Ellie nods her head, the hint of a smile tugs at the corner of her mouth as she looks down at the ewe again. “It’s okay, momma, you’re okay, just breathe.”

No later than 5 minutes after do a pair of hooves and a muzzle appear. Ten minutes of pushing after that, the tiny lamb is lying sprawled out on the ground, Joel rubbing the remnants of placenta off its body and face.

“Joel.”

It’s barely above a whisper as Ellie hovers over the baby, crouched on the balls of her toes.

“Joel. It’s - it’s not breathing.”

She inhales sharply and leans her head over the mouth, trying to feel or hear for a puff of air.

He’s silent for a moment, and leans back looking at the tiny body covered in bodily fluids, and realizes there’s no movement coming from the lifeless body. No rising of its stomach, and its eyes are barely opened.

All of a sudden the vastness of the chilly barn shrinks to the size of a shoebox. The air suffocating, as if all the oxygen was sucked out of it.

“Fuck. Fuck. Get me another towel.”

Rushing over to the box of supplies, Ellie hands him a smaller towel, as Joel leans down and wipes at the lamb's eyes, and around its nostrils. He tries to open its mouth to see if there’s any fluid trapped there but he can’t see.

“Get the baster. Hurry.” His clipped tone betrays his panic as Ellie places their turkey baster in his hand.

It’s a poor substitution for an actual proper bulb syringe that is used to remove mucus and fluid from newborns’ mouths. He opens the lamb's mouth and inserts the baster roughly, pressing down on the bulb, as murky liquid is drawn through the clear pipette. He squirts the remnants of the baster out onto the ground and reinserts it into the lambs mouth, drawing more mucus and crap out a few more times until it’s empty.

They both wait a beat, panting heavily to see any sign of life on the little sheep.

“She’s still not breathing. Fuck.” Ellie’s voice trembles. “She’s not breathing, Joel!”

“Okay, go into the feedroom and fill up the hot water bottle with warm water okay? Warm water, not hot, I’ll try to swaddle it in more towels, get some heat going.”

Immediately, she races to the feedroom with the rubber water bottle. As Joel hears the water running in the background, he wraps the lamb in two big towels. The ewe is now up and pacing frantically around Joel, sensing something is wrong.

“C’mon baby, c’mon,” he rubs the covered lamb firmly, pressing his palm down slightly against the ribs and chest of the baby and shaking slightly. Nothing though, no sounds, no movement.

The ewe is now crying and bleating repeatedly as she paces circles around Joel, wanting to get to her baby. “I know, momma, I know. I’m trying. Fucking hell.”

The edges of his restraint and control start to fray. His heart is racing, chest tightening under the crushing realization that the lamb is a stillborn. He cradles the lamb, swaddled in a mountain of towels now, squeezing his eyes shut and holding the tiny limp weight against his body.

Moments later Ellie reappears at his side, sinking to her knees with the water bottle in both hands, the sloshing sound of the water drowning out the ewe’s crying.

Joel opens the folds of towels up so that she can place the flimsy warm pouch over top of the lambs side. Wrapping it up like a burrito again, he holds it up against his chest as if he was holding a baby, firmly patting and rubbing the little lump in his arms. Ellie fruitlessly tries to calm down the mother ewe but it’s no use as she continues to trot circles around Joel, weaving back and forth and trying to nose the little lump in his arms.

He places the swaddled lamb on the ground, into the cushioned nest of shavings and straw bedding. Hovering over it on all fours, he places his palm over the swaddle again, applying pressure to the lambs back and rubbing circles, while opening its mouth with his other hand.

“C’mon, little one, c’mon. Gimme something, c’mon. Please.” Joel leans down, his lips pressing against the towel as he murmurs. The sound of his warm, deep voice breaking is barely muffled by the damp fabric as he squeezes his eyes shut. Another set of warm, small, clammy hands overlap his, as Ellie kneels beside him.

They huddle together over the lamb for another minute or two, the soft swishing of straw and shavings strewn about as the ewe continues pacing is the only audibly sound. Her cries for help softened to brief bleating.

Ellie intertwines her fingers with Joel, squeezing tight as she let’s out a quiet sniffle.

Then, a muffled sound. The smallest hiccup.

“Joel.” She whispers and squeezes his hand again.

“Joel, look.”

He raises his head slowly, holding his breath as he hears the small noise again, before he carefully unwraps the swaddled material. He cautiously rubs the lambs back again, as they watch as its bleary eyes blink open, slowly but surely. It raises its head ever so slightly, dazed, before letting out the smallest bleat.

Choking out the breath that he had been holding in, Joel rushes to wipe around the lamb’s eyes and mouth again. “There she is. Hey little one,” he coos at the small animal, afraid to speak above a hushed tone.

“Holy shit.” Ellie huffs in disbelief with tears in her eyes. “Dude, you fucking did it! Oh my god, look at her!”

She clutches the sleeve of Joel’s shirt, exhilarated and bouncing with adrenaline. “Do you think it’s a girl?”

Smiling to himself, he shakes his head, “not sure, but it doesn’t matter, s’long as it’s healthy. Right, little one?” He slowly strokes the lamb as it starts bleating with more fervor, when he feels a bigger muzzle shoving his hand out of the way .

“There ya go momma, there she is.”

He gets up, ignoring the groaning protest from his knees and steps back so that the ewe can see her baby, gesturing for Ellie to follow.

“Here, Let’s give ‘em some space to breathe. Go grab the space heater and we’ll get ‘em nice and warm.”

Shooting to her feet, she scurries back to the supply room to retrieve the heater. Joel sits back against one of the stall walls, his head tipping back till it hits the wooden slats with a dull thunk as he takes the deepest breath he’s taken all day. The adrenaline is still coursing through his veins but he feels fucking exhausted all the same. Defeated but elated, he watches the mom lick and nudge the little lamb, before a voice rings out from behind him.

“Well, well, well, looks like we got a full house in here tonight!”

Joel turns to see Dr. Joyce striding through the aisle, a bright twinkle in her eye as she stops in front of the large stall, already stretching a pair of latex gloves over her hands.

The corners of his mouth pull up into a small smile as he nods in her direction. “Hey doc, how’s it going?”

“I should be the one asking you that,” she chuckles with warmth, shimmying around the stall door slowly. “You’ve had quite the night from what I can tell. I saw the lights on at this hour and I could only assume it had finally happened.”

Snorting, he crosses his arms over his chest. “That’s one way of putting it.” He nods his chin as Ellie returns with the space heater in hand, “couldn’t have done it without this one’s help of course.”

Ellie grins and hands the space heater to Joel. “If I’m being honest, it was probably one of the coolest and scariest things I’ve ever seen in my life. Especially when she wasn’t breathing. But it was all Joel, really. He brought her back, I just tried not to get in his way.”

Rounding Joel’s other side, Dr. Joyce crosses the stall and crouches down and pulls out her stethoscope, winking at Ellie. “Is that so? Do I sense a future vet tech assistant that can help me with house calls?”

“Shit. Are you serious?” The teenager’s eyes nearly bug out of her head as a massive smile stretches across her face. “That would be fucking awesome!”

Joel doesn’t even have the energy to reprimand her for swearing, his mind and body drained as he snorts and shakes his head.

“Hey! Is there room for two more at this welcoming party?!” Another booming voice echoes throughout the large stone barn, similar in its Southern drawl to Joel’s but not as deep.

Tommy and Maria round the corner with huge smiles, still in their riding clothes, fresh off the night patrol.

“Just so long as y’all can keep quiet.” Joel grumbles, still sat leaning against the stall wall with his arms crossed, legs kicked out from underneath him. He looks over at the scene in front of him, warmth etched into his features as he watches Dr. Joyce check the lambs vitals while the ewe finally starts to munch on hay again.

“We couldn’t believe it, we had to come right away. Hell, I had half a mind to cut the patrol short when we found out.” Maria nods at Joel with a smirk. She glances over to the little sheep who has started to stand on all fours and nurse from its mom, wobbling on its nimble legs.

“What’s the verdict Dr. Joyce?” Tommy sidles over to Joel, crouching down beside him and grinning. “All working organs? All ten fingers and ten toes?”

Joel sighs gruffly. “They’re hooves, not toes, genius. Jeez, you sure you’re expecting soon?”

Maria only smirks in response as Tommy mumbles and shoves his older brother in response.

“Everything’s in order Joel, don’t worry.” Dr. Joyce smiles, taking one ear bud out of her ear as she continues to check the lambs pulse. “Her oxygen levels seem good, despite the rocky start and her lungs are clear of fluids, and she’s warm. You couldn’t have done a better job, really, you should be proud of yourself.”

He tries to hide his beaming smile he really does, but Joel grins. His bright eyes crinkle and his dimple pokes through his right cheek. “Thanks doc. I appreciate ya comin’ over here as soon as you could.”

“Her?” Ellie’s eyes widen as she clasps her hands together. “So it is a girl?!”

“Yup, definitely a girl.”

“Think she deserves a name, don’t you?” Tommy nudges Joel in the arm again.

Joel’s smile falters immediately. He shakes his head and looks down. “No. I don’t name ‘em, besides it’ll only be a couple of days before she’s gotta get tagged and registered in the breeding books too.”

“Oh come on Joel, please? She deserves one. After everything she’s been through…” Ellie’s voice trails off.

Everything they had been through. She doesn’t need to say it for him to know.

When she doesn’t keep going he looks up at her. Her eyes pleading, welling up with fragments of the pain and haunted memories that they endured over the last year.

He looks at Tommy and Maria, his eyes then falling on Dr. Joyce as she tends to the lamb.

“Ellie’s right Joel. I know y’all don’t normally give them names, especially the young ones, but given the circumstances, this little lady oughta have a name.” The vets eyes are soft as she gives Joel a sympathetic smile.

He’s silent for a moment, shifting his jaw. His gaze drops to the tiny lamb, white as snow, now that she’s been towel dried and cleaned, listening to her tiny bleats as she headbuts her mom for more milk. Instantly, his gaze softens, his big eyes rounding at the newborn.

New life.

A breath of fresh air into the looming hollowness of the barn. A pulse. An electric current, melding into a comfortable, viscous, energy as Jackson’s population, well four-legged population, increases for another day.

Sighing, he tilts his head in adoration. Filtering through the vestiges of his memory, he thinks back to the conversation that prompted this whole sheep herding fiasco. Him, Ellie, their tiny fire amongst the vast expanse of snow covered country, with nothing but the moon overhead. The comforting solace provided by its glowing illumination, letting them know they weren’t alone in their travels.

“Well, she is a bright light, figuratively and literally,” he peeks his head out of the stall to find the moon, beaming down on the tiny settlement, before glancing down at the lamb again.

“How does Luna sound?”

In that moment, the lamb trots over to Joel on its spindly legs, getting braver by the minutes after its birth. She bleats in his face loudly and headbutts his arm affectionately before circling back to her mom, stumbling over herself in the process.

“Well I’ll be damned, I think she likes it.” Tommy chuckles as Maria comes to stand beside him.

Ellie snuggles up to Joel, her eyes starting to close as the evening's events catch up to her. “It’s perfect,” she yawns and nuzzles into his broad shoulder, “our little Luna.”

Luna approaches Joel with more curiosity again, as he stretches his hand out towards her, letting her sniff and lick him.

Despite everything that happened, the chaos, the panic, and near crisis with his first lamb birth, for the first time in a while, Joel feels whole. Fulfilled. Right where he's supposed to be, in this new world, this new life.

Rooted.

A lopsided smile stretches across his face, as his dimple pokes through his cheek. “Yeah, I suppose it is. Our little light, Luna.”

#joel miller fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller #joel miller fanfic #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fluff

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cornerful · 2 months

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I love the conversation between Frodo and Boromir so much. So much. It's dripping with overarching themes and character work and the tension is electric the way it builds, the physical environment-as-cue, the parallels between Boromir and Bilbo, and Gollum, Boromir saying "so much depends on you" Boromir the first son of the steward of Gondor saying those words... thinking to sway Frodo with this conversation, yes, and it gets out of hand yes, but what does he say first he says 'may I sit with you' and 'none of us should be alone' and I just think of the mountain of responsibility heaped upon Boromir and how kind he is anyway, and it only twists the knife further that were this Ring not between them things would be different. Yet without the ring they would probably never have met.

And Frodo is so measured, so gracious, so strong in his resolve even though he is so scared, I love him, I love both of them, they are both so good, and that this is how they part...

That Frodo is forced to flee, that even if he heard Boromir calling after him and came back, how long until the madness that passed would return? That this desperate escape, not friendly counsel, is what pushed him to set off alone. That he must witness those around him fall to powerlust and violence, no matter how grand or valiant their hearts it may be no one can withstand the ring's influence. And the one thing Frodo cannot do is cast it away. He has to keep it, whatever it may do to him, and to protect those around him he must isolate himself?? Using his body and soul as a shield in the hopes of containing this dreadful, evil thing long enough to save everyone else from it for ever!!! Excuse me??

And that Boromir, if he could just understand what the ring is, would recognize Frodo's bravery and his wisdom. But he can't see it. He is in need, and the ring uses that. His crazed ramblings about how he would overthrow Sauron are all the more tragic for how hopeless they are. If he could he would 1v1 Sauron himself, this is the man that toot tooted at a Balrog. I think of Fingolfin in his last despair pounding on Morgoth's door with a fey light in his eyes, a tiny star under an engulfing cloud, blazing his challenge, and dying there in blood and dust. Because that is the real story, Boromir. That is how this ends.

The little hobbit, who looks younger but is actually older, who has raised a blade against an enemy only a handful of times, has the right of it. And maybe this gets missed sometimes but it says so much about Frodo that he fled. He could have used the ring to stab Boromir in the back. He has been carrying the thing on his body for longer than Boromir has even been in proximity to it, and has owned it for nearly twenty years on top of living in the same home as it for even longer. Boromir's direct threat to take it could have twisted his mind to possessive fury, but it doesn't. Frodo just runs, puts as much distance between them as possible, and that is such a significant act.

Not only that, but the minute he takes the ring off he puts the blame of Boromir's madness on it. He does not decide that Boromir has secretly been false this whole time, he does not even think of getting back at him, or ruminate in anger over what happened.

And Boromir dying, saying "I am sorry. I have paid." ??? Breaking of the fellowship more like breaking of my heart

It just kills me that anyone could possibly think either of them cowardly or unheroic.

Frodo and Boromir are both so incredibly brave and good and this is the hill I will not die on but live on because I will win!! I love them

#drafted these before finding out about substack being an entire bastard and now i feel weird but #posting anyway to manifest it working out 🙏#lotr newsletter #reading henneth annun without the enforced distance of book separation is gonna wreck me #lotrn226

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wishcamper · 3 months

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Don't Worry Feyre, Darling: the relationship anxiety to coersive control pipeline

CW: emotional abuse, reproductive abuse

Creds: licensed counselor with focus in addiction, trauma, and gay stuff; experience in group and family counseling, mandated DV clients, and abuse victim support.

Before the mob comes: I am not pro or anti Rhys, and I think his contradictions say much more about SJM than anything. I also believe it’s possible for a fandom to reclaim/rewrite a character who has been massacred by an author.

We’re going to begin at Rhys helping Feyre during an extremely dark place in both their lives. We’re going to end at him withholding vital medical information from her for the sake of “protecting her”. But first, some context.

Inside all of the (amazing) drama around the 2022 movie Don’t Worry, Darling , was a story that is pretty well worn at this point: men deciding they know what’s best for women and giving it to them whether they like it or not. In the movie, Florence Pugh’s Alice lives inside a computer simulation where she is the modern equivalent of a 50s housewife: dresses, calisthenics, martinis, “making a roast”. (She also gets eaten out by Harry Styles but that doesn’t seem to be an explicit part of the world’s design.) The problem? She doesn’t know she’s in the simulation. Harry Styles, in between all the cunnilingus, drugged her and put her in the program against her will. Yikes! Why!

The movie explains that he believed their life in the real world was miserable, and that he was saving her from that by giving her this perfect life. She should be grateful, if anything! What he doesn’t tell her, but that we see, is that Harry Styles also seems to struggle with a sense of inadequacy for not being able to provide. He is failing to live up to personal and cultural standards of manhood but, instead of dismantling those standards, he makes it his wife’s problem by kidnapping and brainwashing her consciousness. Hm. Interesting strategy. Let’s see how it works out for him.

With Rhysand, his motives in the beginning are more understandable - he initiates rescuing Feyre from the very real danger of Tamlin and her own mental decline. He feels justified breaking whatever magic law because of his own experiences being trapped and believing people should have a choice about where they go and who they are. He emphasizes over and over that these choices are Feyre’s and that she has freedom with him. We see through ACOMAF that helping her gives him a sense of purpose after the trauma UTM. His friends remark on how Feyre brought him back to life, never questioning and even encouraging this pattern.

But Rhys clearly has a lot of anxiety about his relationships and closeness in general. He mentions on several occasions that people around him tend to suffer because of him, and how afraid he is of doing that to Feyre. She is very receptive to this and puts effort into proving him wrong. He finds safety in the bubble of their relationship that probably feels pretty fucking good. The unfortunate side effect of this is that instead of processing and resolving his own anxiety, he directs it through Feyre and his love for her. Meanwhile, he keeps his anxious maneuvers behind the scenes, like not telling her about the bond, taking her to the Weaver, encouraging her to learn to read, to train. It may be genuinely helping her, but there’s also this sense of ‘I know what you need better than you do’. And again, nobody questions this.

We flirt with this tension at the beginning of ACOMAF when Rhys enforces their bargain from UTM. As the reader, at that point, we are supposed to believe this is cruel of him. He interrupts her wedding for fucks sake, throw your shoe at him girl! But over time we start to feel like it’s okay because Feyre secretly wanted it, it’s ultimately for her own good. Rhys is the most powerful High Lord in history, I’m sure he could’ve figured out a way to break the bargain, but he didn’t. In fact he engineered a situation where she'd be at his mercy. Why? Because Rhys was worried about Feyre, felt her deteriorating through the bond. Because of that, he felt justified in coming to collect. Personally, I have no opinion about whether crashing the wedding was the right or wrong thing to do. But it does set up, at least in the world of the book, that removing someone’s autonomy is okay if it’s for their own good, if the ends justify the means. In fact, that overstep ends up being the road to Feyre’s life in the NC and her love with Rhysand, a love that is so great she willingly tethers her very life to it. Even in ACOWAR we see how their relationship is a way he regulates his anxiety *cough*battlefield blowjob*cough*. He gets used to Feyre’s health and happiness being his source comfort and can continue to avoid dealing with his own shit internally.

In his seminal work Why Does He Do That?, Lundy Bancroft, a specialist in treatment of abuse perpetrators, debunks the various myths about what causes abuse and why it happens. His thesis is disarmingly simple: people abuse because they believe it’s justified. He says one of the signs of abuse escalation is “a growing attitude that he knows what is good for her better than she does”. Bancroft also notes that abuse is so hard to spot because “most abusive men don’t seem like abusers” (emphasis his) and that abusive men have periods of being charming, funny, even kind. Abusive men often don’t see themselves as such, because the strategy works for them - they feel good when they displace their emotional problems onto someone else.(1)

And then Feyre gets pregnant with a baby that could kill her. Besides the fact they really should have talked about this before trying for a baby given Rhys is mixed race (Cassian and Nesta too, but that’s a whole other post), Rhys claims a sense of ownership over his wife and child almost immediately. He’s constantly being described as smug and glowing with male pride. Even when he’s not smarmy, he’s consumed with his own ideas about protecting them and can’t hear the protests of others. We see his anxiety morph into more overt control in attempt to handle the situation. He believes he’s justified in keeping the danger from Feyre because he doesn’t want to stress her out. But that is not about Feyre, that’s about Rhys. HE is scared, HE is lost, and so he makes a decision on her behalf to lessen the burden he’s already carrying, whether he’s aware of it or not. He must keep her in a happy bubble else how is he supposed to go on.

Don’t Worry, Darling is at least critical of this ‘I know better’ motive even if the movie is stupid, and Harry Styles gets some frontier justice in the form of a whiskey glass to the back of the dome. But ACOSF condones Rhys’ actions and even insinuates our main character is deserving of death for calling him out. Bancroft writes that “part of how the abuser escapes confronting himself is by convincing you that you are the cause of his behavior”. He wouldn’t HAVE to do this if you just TRUSTED HIM.

But here’s what I think. I think Rhys has walked down a path of using his relationship to balance his internal conflict. Anxiety is a force in every relationship, but with Feyre he must maintain her beautiful life where she never worries in order to feel safe himself. I can have empathy for this, kind of - he’s suffered significant losses and it’s understandable he feels protective of those he loves. I think about celebrities with non-famous spouses, and how they avoid talking about them because they don’t want the scrutiny. I believe Rhys thinks he’s genuinely doing right by Feyre. But Rhys is so averse to his own anxiety that he can’t let himself trust anyone else to resolve it. He can’t let go of Feyre as his safe space and almost condemns her to die because of it.

And this is how, ultimately, Rhys traps himself. He tries to create a bubble where Feyre can never leave him, and ends up signing both their death warrants. I hope the world of fan fiction can redeem him, because I really don’t think Sarah can.

And yes, I know it’s faerie porn and it’s not that deep. But this is a series marketed toward an audience at risk of abuse and intimate partner violence. Bancroft lays out key points at the end of the book that feel particularly relevant to the larger conversation:

“Once we tear the cover of excuses, distortions, and manipulations off abusers, they suddenly find abuse much harder to get away with.

If Mothers Against Drunk Driving can change culture’s indifference to alcohol-related automotive deaths, we can change culture’s attitude toward partner abuse.

Everyone has a role to play in ending abuse.

If you are trying to assist an abused woman, get help and support yourself as well

All forms of chronic mistreatment in the world are interwoven. When we take one apart, all the rest start to unravel as well.”

Why Does He Do That? , Lundy Bancroft. https://ia800108.us.archive.org/30/items/LundyWhyDoesHeDoThat/Lundy_Why-does-he-do-that.pdf

#acotar #acomaf #acosf #rhys critical #feysand is dysfunctional #don't kill me #intimate partner violence #why does he do that?#prythian university #sjm critical

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lowcosmic · 4 months

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—— because nothing compares to you .

— 𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 : kokichi messed up , you’re temporarily gone , and he has to spend that time alone.

— 𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙧𝙚 : angst & fluff ( hurt -> comfort )

— 𝙘𝙬 : mentions of bad eating , sleep deprivation , fighting , sad stuff ( but resolved with a happy ending )

— 𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨 : the request was too long to fit on here , it’d make up the entire story itself.

↳ kokichi spun a pencil around with his fingers , mindlessly thinking about yesterday. he glanced over to your empty seat. maybe he was too harsh on you. you’d definitely come back tomorrow , right?

→ the day before , you’d fought with each other. or , more like kokichi was fuming at you and you were just listening. even if you did decide to speak , he’d just slam your words down and mix them up to be an accusation. he’d said some pretty bad stuff , and he thoroughly regretted them now that he was looking back.

→ and then he’d just left you there. he didn’t break up or anything , he just left the room with the tension still up in the air. he didn’t even apologize for all the things he said and couldn’t take back.

→ kokichi had been “ blinded by rage , ” and as he’s heard before , anger can make you say things you’ll regret.

→ right after class , he messaged you immediately. no response came , even after the twentieth time. then he gave up and went to your house instead.

→ sprinting to your house , he got reminded on how you’d , after every school day , offer to take him home instead of walking the way. his heart stung even more.

→ when he got there , he pounded on the door. realizing no one was home , he went to the neighbors instead. he refrained from knocking down their door to ask for answers , but he did knock rather hurriedly.

→ your neighbor came out , and kokichi quickly pushed the question he’d had lodged in his throat out. “ do you know where (s/o) is? ”

→ “ ahh — they left early in the morning to go on a trip. they’ll come back , as it’s only a well deserved vacation i’m presuming. ” as kokichi listened , he thought to himself , “ well … could be worse. was this … what they were trying to tell me yesterday? …

→ he would be okay. you would be okay. everything would be okay. he’d apologize and everything would be resolved. it just had to.

→ things were not going well the first few days. kokichi had grown self aware to everything you did for him ; from self care like eating proper meals and comfort of having someone to talk to who wouldn’t scorn him every time he walked past , to someone to help him stay energized by driving him home on your motorcycle or even just cuddling with him when he needed it. he missed you dearly.

→ even worse — what if something happened to you? you didn’t respond at all — what if something bad happened? did your plane crash? — no , if it had , he would’ve heard something about that. maybe you just lost your phone or … maybe you were simply ignoring him out of spite.

→ he felt sick , physically and mentally. he hadn’t eaten healthily due to the sick feeling he got whenever he ate , just because it reminded him of you and some of his last words to you before you left. what if you found someone better? he deserved to be dumped. you deserved better.

→ on day six , he was flat out broke. he never found any reason to get a job yet , mostly because you’d help him with purchases. he had a cold from walking in the rain to avoid paying to go home. he felt horrible.

→ unlike his usual character , he had trouble keeping up a devious persona everyday without you , as silly and weak as it sounded. where did that “ i can do everything by myself ” kokichi go? was he fully gone? he just wouldn’t , and couldn’t , accept that yet. he swore later that he’d become more independent , and not let you dote on him so much anymore.

→ homework and tests? forget it. he forgot it often because he was busy hanging out with his dice gang to soothe himself a bit , not that it helped tons. he also forgot because you’d be there to remind him. if it weren’t for his capable mind , he would’ve flunked — but thankfully , he’s kokichi.

→ and then there was the issue of not sleeping. his thoughts were muddled with you. he’d hug his pillow and blankets that still smelt of you from when you were there to stay over for a few days. he’d listen to some of your favorite music tracks. but it wasn’t the same without you.

→ he waited. and waited. and waited some more.

→ message after message he sent everyday , nothing went through. until …

ding! kokichi lifted himself up from his pillow with a jolt. you replied. pictures and descriptions of where you were , what you were doing , why some of the messages may have not gone through … a signal issue. suddenly , his phone began vibrating consistently due to a flooding of messages to him — all about your days and such. and at the end … over the days , kokichi had messaged you with apologies stacked on top of each other. and at the end , an apology of your own waited for him. it was stupid , whatever he argued with you on. he didn’t understand why you’d apologize over that. and once you video called him , he made sure to say that.

→ he’d hold in his crying , both in relief and overwhelming stress. and then he heard that you were home.

→ it was pouring out , but kokichi couldn’t care less. he was meeting with you , even if you had to unpack still. his feet splashed against the puddles , and as he arrived to your door , he knocked once again.

→ when you opened the door , he tackled you in a hug. you were both drenched now , but he felt so warm inside instead. ignoring your warnings about “ catching a cold from you , kokichi ” , he dragged you upstairs so that he could finally , properly hug you.

→ the next few days after that , he was clingy. but he told you he could do some things himself. and he did … for the most part , at least. but he tried.

→ forget about being partners or talking to anyone else the next few days without being interrupted , you’re sticking with kokichi.

please don’t repost , translate , or claim my works as your own.

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mysticmetalmerchants · 1 year

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!!!~Fic Recs~!!! (Pt. II)

Here is a follow-up to my last post of Fic Recs (in which I listed my favorite completed multi-chapter ROTTMNT fics).

In this post I'll be recommending ongoing multi-chapter fics. In no particular order, here they are:

There Must Be Something in the Water by Filsamek

-This fic has been such a delight to read. The premise is interesting and even chilling, and the ways in which the turtles have to puzzle out how to solve the problem at hand has been exciting to follow along with. Very interested to see how the conflict will be resolved and what further Mystic concepts the author will introduce!

Blood, Water, and Thicker Things by JumpingInMuddyPuddles

-While this fic has but 4 chapters thus far, I am absolutely psyched for future updates! This is, in a way, a "sick fic" but combined with Leo pushing his needs aside and facing imminent danger while suffering AND featuring a Leo-Donnie team-up mystery with action and high-stakes...! In the words of Donnie in Lair Games: Nom nom. Nomnomnom.

The Old College Try by theashemarie @theashemarie

-There is just something about this fic that grips me in such a way that it almost hurts to discuss. Leo's characterization feels very accurate and very real, and somehow the ways in which he struggles with his identity in general as well as his identity surrounding intelligence/academia really hit me in the heart. I don't know if it's because I already relate to Leo so much, or if its because of my own (academic) experience of feeling like no one will take me seriously and having that odd and alienating (ADHD-related no doubt) infantalization grate on me, but... the ways in which Leo has to confront his relationship with his place on the team, the character he plays, his true interests and passions, and his relationship with his brother who has claimed the title of "the intelligent one" is hard-hitting. Add to that the struggles of humanity/fitting in with society, of the seemingly inherent selfishness of valuing your own pursuits despite risks or pitfalls therein... the tension is amazing. Oh, did I mention-- this is about Leo and Donnie going to university lmao. But its actually also about so much more, as you can see... Overall: this author is a master of character depiction and I cannot wait to see how the rest of the story unfolds...! Donnie in this fic is also so wonderfully rendered. Best of all are Leo and Donnie's interactions in such a foreign setting, and them having to (re-)learn to navigate one another's feelings this new environment brings out. Ah! Good, good stuff. And if that does not convince you, there's also action, a prominent villain, impossible choices....!

All the Ashes in My Wake by paperxcrowns @crows-murder

-Ooh, I can just tell this one is setting up to be some serious Leo angsting. The premise works so well, and I'm eagerly awaiting for that moment when Leo can no longer keep hiding things from his brothers and the dam breaks. The suspense of wondering how that's going to happen is so, so good. Also, insane dramatic irony that is causing sooo much angst. Leo's brothers hurting him/unknowingly forcing him to do things because of a curse... Dramatic! Irony! Delicious.

Last Grain of Sand in the Hourglass by TjLockticon @last-hourglass

-This fic is a sort of alternate take on the ending of the movie, wherein Leo stays trapped in the prison dimension, but not because Mikey's portal failed– rather, because it brought Future Leo back to the past instead. The ensuing chaos and angst is really well-done, and my favorite parts were actually how each brother came to terms with the situation and how to react around this version of their brother, all while their 'true' brother is still trapped and suffering. The chapters with Present Leo in the prison dimension are a really unique take on his experience there. Another thing I found very intriguing is how Leo's Mystic powers and his swords are included in the plot. I'm looking forward to seeing what further angst lays ahead and how the author chooses to resolve the complexities of feeling introduced with the bros getting attached to Future Leo and also Casey's suffering at the idea that this situation cannot endure, and he will lose his sensei all over again. Wild!!

Alpha Stage by snailsnaps @snailsnaps

-Oh I have so much to say about this fic. The premise is so heart-wrenching and interesting, and scratches that itch (in a way) of having had the planned turtle tots episode canceled. And yet, Donnie is still totally himself, mentally, despite being tot-sized. What is a total delight is the art in this fic. Each illustration is so charming and impeccable and adds to much to the story. I keep coming back to it, and I'm excited to see where the author takes the narrative!

The Same Little Faces by awkwardusagi

-This fic also scratches the itch of the canceled turtle tot episode, but the focus on this one is particularly on Leo being turned back into a tot! I love this take because the author explores the dynamic between Mikey getting to be a big bro for the first time, Donnie and Raph witnessing this, and Splinter giving all of them tips and tricks he knows about how to wrangle hyperactive turtle mutant babies. It also has the interesting and really innovative idea that tot Leo retains the memories and experiences of teenage Leo in his subconscious, and this plays a significant role in the plot. I won't say much more, but the cast of characters and how they slot into the big kerfuffle at hand is also so fun! Particularly my favorite Hippo and Worm duo... and Señor Hueso! The relationships explored are so captivating and heart-wrenching in their tenderness. Leo's insecurities manifested in the form of a turtle tot who cannot hide away their pain from their family... ahhh! It's overall super fun and super sweet and I felt so gripped by the narrative. I'm really interested to see how the author will resolve the conflict!

I May Be Invisible, but I Still Look Good by Dandy @dandylovesturtles

-Ohhhh my gosh, where to even begin with this fic... It follows Leo's (mis)adventures dealing with a Mystic curse that renders him invisible, intangible, and inaudible. I feel like I can't say much about the plot because I don't want to spoil the experience of reading it– each installment of puzzle-solving regarding Leo's curse is so unique and intense and gratifying to experience, so I won't go into too much detail. Leo's characterization is so wonderful and feels so real. His thoughts and reactions and struggles and how he chooses to endure them and cope with them is just... so Leo. Which means that there is a lot of silent suffering, of course! We love to see it. (I'll also briefly note that this extends to all the brothers! I just mention Leo particularly because we are in his head.) The author's ability to depict Leo's panic attacks and dissociation is my favorite I've encountered. It's also, of course, entirely heartbreaking to read. The enemies and the Mystic curse are incredibly engaging as well; they feel very much like classic fantasy adventure obstacles/antagonists that I used to read as a child, which is such a fun thing in the setting of Rise, and fits in very well. It's so believable within the universe. I'm super excited to see how the breaking of the curse will play out! I've probably re-read the fic in its entirety 2-3 times now, and each time it was equally as engrossing. Not only that– the author is such a master that I've noticed foreshadowing interlaced throughout, and that has been such a delight! This fic inspires me, and invigorates me, and leaves me wanting to read basically anything else from the author. I cannot recommend it enough!

Mutant Ninja Midlife Crisis by a_platypus

-This fic includes Future Leo being transplanted into the past, but his meeting with the turtles and April and Casey as well as the circumstances surrounding his presence are not so innocent. The tension and dramatic irony created by this set-up are gripping and exciting. And kinda makes me wanna smack a Leo (or two). The dialogue and relationships are so well-written, and the pacing is really nice. Everything feels very in-character and believable and intense. Also, just an aside, but the interactions between Present Leo and Future Leo feel so believable, and the way they change how they relate to one another over time feels very organic and natural. It's handled and presented very well, and is one of the central reasons I'm excited to see how the plot progresses moving forward.

The Aftermath by Starrcrossrose

-This fic is set post-movie, and focuses on the healing process Leo (and the others) have to undergo, and all the complicated emotions involved. There's particular emphasis on the relationship between Leo and Donnie. The author does an amazing job showing the reader what is going through both their heads and how they're struggling under the burden of Leo's decision to sacrifice himself, as well as the circumstances surrounding this (namely, Leo's mental health). It's heart-wrenching to see them both struggle under this burden and knowledge, and even more so to witness how it drives a wedge between them. Another aspect of this fic that I love is the angst surrounding the idea that Leo is doing all he can to cope and to heal, but his family is so worried and so anxious for him that they push him to recover more quickly, and this actually ends up complicating things and even making things harder for Leo. The frustration is real! The depiction of a well-meaning family making a suffering family member feel even more isolated, ironically, feels very realistic and therefore all the more maddening and heartbreaking. The recent chapters made me have to go and like. Lie down. It's that intense. And that good.

As before, I did my best to figure out which authors have accounts on here and tag them, but if I've missed you/you know the author's @, please let me know and I'll update the post!

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2018 #tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt fics #rottmnt fic recs #fic recs #tmnt fics #tmnt fic recs

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em-dash-press · 2 years

Text

Character Types for Your Next Story

Great ideas for characters will come and go, but there are always concrete character types that you can count on to carry a plot.

Check out the most common types to see if they're what you need to make your next story come to life.

The Protagonist

This is your main character. They're the central focus of the story, the person who resolves the main conflict, or the individual who grows with or from the story's theme.

You can also have multiple protagonists! 3rd-person POV stories/books often have at least two main characters because switching between their points of view furthers the plot, adds tension, or develops their world for the reader.

Examples: Bilbo Baggins in The Hobbit; Claire Randall in Outlander

The Antagonist

This is your main character's opposition. They'll be the force against which your protagonist clashes to experience the conflict that results in their growth. Sometimes the antagonist functions as an obstacle for the protagonist to overcome. Other times, they're a lesson the main character needs to learn by the end of the story.

You can create multiple antagonists for one protagonist or multipel antagonist for a cast of protagonists. It depends on the story you have in mind and what POV you'll be using.

Examples: The White Witch in The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe; Pennywise in It

The Central (Major) Characters

Central characters are what you would call the individual protagonists who make up your cast of characters. They all grow throughout your plot and are essential to the backbone of your story.

Examples: the seven demigods in the Prophecy of Seven in The Heroes of Olympus series; the multigenerational protagonists in Homegoing

The Secondary (Minor) Characters

Secondary characters are often called sidekicks or companions. They're part of your protagonist's life and is along for the ride with them. Although your plot might not be the same without them (if they're a love interest, family member, or another person close to your protagonist), they primary exist to develop the protagonist.

Examples: Dr. Watson in the Sherlock Holmes series; Cinna in The Hunger Games series

The Static Characters

Writers need static characters to essentially remain the same for plot purposes. These characters are typically unaffected by what's happening in the protagonist's life because they're one or two steps removed from it.

Alternatively, your static character can also be antagonist. They're actively involved in your protagonist's life, but they don't undergo any inner changes that result in character growth.

Examples: Dolores Umbridge in the Harry Potter series (she remains unchanged because she has to be a constant source of conflict); Atticus Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird (he remains unchanged because he represents morality and reason to Scout)

The Dynamic Characters

Dynamic characters change throughout a story. They're most often the protagonist or one of the main cast of characters because they are actively involved in the plot.

These could be your protagonist, antagonist, or any other character that undergoes some time of fundamental change.

Examples: Ebenezer Scrooge in A Christmas Carol; Celaena Sardothien in Throne of Glass

The Flat Characters

Flat characters experience no change throughout a story. They may arrive at the end with a different opinion or goal, but they're almost identical to who they were at the beginning of the story.

Don't assume flat characters are boring or unnecessary! They always represent something for the protagonist or the reader. They can also be the antagonist!

Examples: Marmee in Little Women (she's a role model for her daughters and remains their true north throughout the book); Suzy Nakamura in American Born Chinese (she helps Wei-Chen face his complicated feelings about feeling like an outcast for his race by being vocal about hers, but that remains her sole purpose in the plot.)

The Round Characters

When someone talks about a round character, they don't mean the character's physical appearance. Instead, this phrase refers to a protagonist or antagonist's internal depth.

Round characters have complex personalities. They may contradict themselves sometimes or the people they love the most. These characters typically have full backstories and embody the phrase, "they contain multitudes."

Examples: Amy Dunne in Gone Girl; Elizabeth Bennet in Pride and Prejudice

The Stock Characters

Stock characters are flat characters that resemble a stereotype easily recognized by readers. They're your geek teenager with oversized glasses or the best friend who is only there to be the punchline.

Sometimes these characters are written so well that readers don't mind the stereotype. It depends on their relationship with other characters in your story and if they only embody the stereotype up front. Successful stock characters eventually reveal the depth of their hearts or undergo developments that push beyond the limits of their stereotype.

Examples: Rapunzel (the damsel in distress); Alaska Young in Looking for Alaska (the manic pixie dream girl)

The Anti-Hero

Readers love anti-heroes because they're protagonists who start off as the worst version of themselves and grow into the best they can be. There are always external and internal obstacles for them to overcome, which may or may not clash.

They can also start off as versions of themselves that are inherently good, then become more like an antagonist but for the right reasons. Readers may still cheer them on and hope they revert to their previous good ways or read your story to watch your anti-hero follow their worst instincts until the world crumbles around them.

Examples: Dexter Morgan in the Dexter series; Patrick Bateman in American Psycho

The Foil

Typically, the foil in any story is someone who's opposite of the protagonist. They encourage the main character to grow throughout the plot by holding reverse opinions, world views, or values.

Examples: God and Satan in Paradise Lost; Lennie and George in Of Mice and Men

The Symbolic Character

Characters can be great by themselves, but many times they will represent something the author is trying to talk about through their work. A symbolic character is the representation of an aspect of society, an idea, or theme.

Examples: the raven in The Raven (symbolizes the narrator's grief and the presence of death in general); Aslan in The Chronicles of Narnia series (symbolizes God/Jesus)

The Deuteragonist

Deuteragonists are also called the secondary characters. They're the closest characters to the protagonist throughout their journey. They give the story more depth, either through their close relationship with the protagonist or by working against them as or alongside the antagonist.

Examples: Edward Cullen in the Twilight series; Jiminy Cricket in Pinocchio

The Tertiary

You'll rarely see a tertiary character more than a few times in a story. They're background characters that most often create minor conflict on the protagonist's journey with their primary conflict. Tertiary characters add depth to a story's world, but aren't essential to the plot.

However, tertiary characters are important! Without them, there would be no nosy server at your protagonist's favorite coffee shop or supportive librarian at your main character's library.

Examples: Parvati and Padma Patil in Harry Potter; Madame Stahl in Anna Karenina

The Love Interest

Ah, the love interest. They are the secondary integral part of any romantic plot line and may challenge the protagonist to grow through introducing new experiences or points of view.

Examples: Peeta Mellark in The Hunger Games series; Will Traynor in Me Before You

The Confidante

Characters who are confidants are literary devices that help the protagonist reveal their secrets, state of mind, intentions, flaws, and feelings while all of those things are actively changing throughout a story. They can also represent real-life relationships by maintaining a healthy friendship or a manipulative friend.

Examples: Horatio in Hamlet; Samwise Gamgee in The Lord of the Rings series

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Many of these character types merge to create stories with more depth. Defining your existing or future characters with these terms could help you figure out their role in the plot and how to make your story stronger by flexing the purposes of each type.

#writing #writeblr #writing characters #character types #writing tips #writing advice #writers of tumblr #creative writing #writing community #writing help #writers #writing inspiration

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performativezippers · 11 days

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Could you share your thoughts about beats in writing, please?

OKAY HERE WE GOOOOO this is going to be long but honestly it could have been so much longer so oops!

tl;dr: Beats are when things in the story happen.

So in a mystery novel, for example, when does the crime occur? when do they think they've solved it, but they're wrong? when do they realize they were wrong? when is their life in danger? when do they know who did it? when does the reader know who did it? when is the b-plot introduced and when it is resolved?

These typically happen in a similar place in each mystery novel, because of course it wouldn't make sense if it went: (1) you think you know who did it, and then (2) the crime is committed. Right? or if the very first person they suspected did it and they catch them immediately! that's never what happens because then what's the other 200 pages of the book?

so there is relative order, and you know it even as a passive reader, so then the question is how spaced out are those things throughout the fic or manuscript?

in a romance, it's the same. typically we see:

meet cute/first meeting/first canon meeting (the pilot) e.g. alex meets maggie at the airport and they fight over jurisdiction, or jane and maura work a case together as usual but it's the first one where jane is scared, aka a new start to their existing relationship

why aren't they together off the bat? (aka why is this a romance novel and not a romance sentence?) e.g. alex thinks she's straight and they're good friends, or maura dates elon musk types and jane is, you know, not that

complication e.g. alex comes out and then asks maggie to be her gf but maggie says no because alex is fresh off the boat, or maura starts dating jane's dumbass brother

false high (if there is a third act breakup, this is the happy time before that) e.g. alex and maggie get together and are very happy kissing the girls they want to kiss, or maura dumps tommy because her life with jane is more important to her

low point (this is often the 3rd act breakup, but doesn't have to be) e.g. alex freaks out when family conflicts with romance and dumps maggie, or jane kills maura's dad

KISS KISS KISS (aka the happily ever after) e.g. alex apologizes and sanvers stays together forever because the show was cancelled, or jane performs surgery on maura in the woods and then they kiss forever because the show was cancelled

SO, all of those things have to happen, and beats are when. you can of course put your plot points whenever you want them. it's your life and your art and your hobby!! have fun! but if you want to learn "craft" or whatever, or get traditionally published, you need to know when the conventional beats for your genre are, so that you can show you know what you're doing.

You've noticed beats even if you haven't thought about them. Sometimes a fanfic feels like it's going on too long or ending too abruptly, which is because they didn't place their beats carefully. Maybe it's taking forever to get past the set-up, and then the ending feels rushed. Maybe they got to the end of the plot but kept writing little one-shots or vignettes that don't have any tension in them. Almost all pacing problems can be solved by beats!

There are two main beat sheets I use for writing romcoms, Save the Cat and Romancing the Beat. There are book and workshops for both. My spreadsheet I use for every book uses Save the Cat beats, which was originally developed for screenplays. Here's a screenshot of that from the spreadsheet i use religiously:

I try to focus on

inciting incident at 0 or 10% (catalyst)

fun and games 25-50%

mid point high right around 50%

Things get bad from 50-75 until dark night of the soul from 75-80%

Redemption 80-90%, climax around 90%, final snippet less than 1,000 after end of climax

I do the math on my word count and ideal final word count to reverse outline where i am. in my book that's going to be published, i was really struggling with how to fill the 50-75% chunk; it was perfectly paced up until the shattering of the false high at 50%, and I knew what would happen after the dark night of the soul at 75%, but my project was to figure out how i could keep the plot driving forward and interesting while the MC's mood and situation tanked for a full 25% of the book. It turns out in the most recent draft, that stuff is 52-86%, and is stuff i really love. i was able to work in other plot points earlier that had time to breathe and got the space they needed in that portion, as well as find the balance between 20k of boring moping and maintaining tension while the romance was tanked.

it's very very hard to use beats in a fic you're posting as you're writing it (which is most of the fics i post), but even having it in the back of my mind helps. For the Ultimatum fic i'm writing and posting now, i knew before i started posting what the midpoint false high would be, plus the dark night of the soul, plus the endgame. it's important to make sure any b-plots, or in the case other couples, get their shit resolved around the same times as Kacy does, so that we don't need too much wrap up/exposition after the kacy climax.

what other questions or thoughts do you have about beats and plot pacing? send them to me!

#ask zipps #writing advice #writing fiction #writing fanfiction #writing original fiction #writing beats #save the cat #romancing the beat

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cymk8 · 3 months

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shadowlach supremacy!! i love seeing people enjoying the idea of them as a pair more and more they’re just so sweet together and compliment each other so well!

you’re art of them is amazing btw my fave has to be shadowheart and karlach with clive the bear it’s just so 🥺

anyways! i wondered if you had any thoughts on what their relationship would be like in act 2? we know it’s a tough act for shadowheart, do you think angst would ensue? would there be tension because of karlach’s intrinsic goodness clashing with shar’s cruelty? would she be an emotional support for shads? what do you think? would love know!

Thank you so much :""""))) and yeah ! i love seeing more and more people liking it like YES finally i will soon not be alone in being absolutely feral about them (I hope...)

but for act 2..... (this is gonna be a READ)

I think that there definitely would be tension between them in the way you brought up! I also think it doesn't stop there: survival at all costs is something that they both prioritize - but how they achieve it and what survival means for either of them...(cont)

I find act 2 to be really interesting in that it forces all of the characters to sort of 'flip' their worldviews. In a lot of ways, it is the real beginning to the end of their lives as they know it. It's an absolute shitshow: everyone's got some form of emotional distress from earth-shattering revelations, everyone's got anxiety-inducing questions over their morality...now slap all of that on top of the constant danger of the inevitable unknown and the all-encompassing need to survive? Damn. I'd be more surprised if the party had more than one day of peace and quiet. The ground is made of eggshells and they are all as graceful as bowling balls.

For the two of them, it would probably all come to a head over how they each view honesty: Shadowheart sees it as something to be earned and Karlach sees it as something inherent (especially when it comes to being a component of survival).

If we look at it through Karlach's lens...

Karlach views honesty as the one thing that she was able to keep throughout her time in the hells. it was also the one thing that let her live - if she was honest about herself, her needs, and the situation around her, she could more readily adapt and survive. If we make it even simpler: demons and devils lie. So what do you do when you hate them? You tell the truth.

Shadowheart...can't even be honest about things to HERSELF. She is simply hard-coded to lie about everything for survival. (It's too bad she truly fucking sucks at lying besides lying by omission...and it's still not a skill she has - she omits because damn, girly doesn't even remember what she is omitting :') )

There is no way Karlach doesn't pick up on it immediately. After a decade of putting up with that...she would probably be down to the last straw in terms of tolerance. Even less so since she probably trusts Shadowheart by this point in the story. I mean. She probably already died once and got saved by her. You would think some honesty would be warranted.

But no. Shadowheart literally lies to herself *all the way to the end of the fucking act.* Girly...she's not doing well.

Shadowheart spends the majority of act 2 completely confused. The lies by omission finally bite her in the ass - both the lies she was taught and the lies that she tells herself. And the worst part is she resists and insists. These poor bitches are both so fucking stubborn it would only be a matter of time before someone's fuse blows.

(and then they do the nasty and it resolves -)

But they do still offer emotional support to each other, no matter how clipped. They fight because they care after all. And that's what matters.

#shadowlach #sorry to say it ain't pretty BUT #its tastey.#we love a slowburn but one of them wants to GOGOGOGOGOGO #shadowheart #karlach #nothing is more juicy than ppl learning to love each other

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nautilusopus · 13 days

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Do you have any advice for anyone trying to get into writing?

Not really a motivation thing or anything, just for improvement. Your writing has captivated me, and I felt like it's better to get advice from an author that is reachable than reading a ton of articles online regurgitating the same steps.

Aw, thank you, I'm honoured!

Apologies if this is kind of a mess, I mostly went through stuff I come back to a lot that helps me. Also tumblr seems to have removed the ability to do indented bullets. Fucking great.

In General:

When I'm first starting out writing a story I'm excited about, I usually don't do things in order -- I'll instead pick one scene I can see extremely clearly and am super excited about, one of the things that made me want to write the story to begin with, and then build the entire outline out from there to set it up (what needs to happen to set the scene up exactly how I want it to be? How do I justify that stuff? What would happen afterwards that would add to the scene even more in retrospect?) This not only helps keep the energy going for parts of the story that might not necessarily be fun to plan, but will inherently cause you to start building a story that is either circumstantially or thematically building to something. It can be something as small as a single conversation but it should be the bit that you personally want to see realised most strongly.

On that note, people like when they can see foreshadowing! That's what it's there for! This has been said by other people plenty, but I'll restate it here: the audience potentially being able to piece together your twist after a while is not a failure in writing, it means you put information into a story that allowed them to engage with it and conveyed something that made sense.

I personally sometimes (but not always mostly due to laziness and because I do try to approach shit chronologically so I don't have to double back and do massive rewrites, also due to laziness) like to write big keynote moments of character arcs in full in advance once I have the whole plot more or less laid out. That way, I know what's coming emotionally speaking and can have characters start clearly building up to things, do stuff like plant specific phrases that come back in big ways or are recontextualised later on, and it makes the story feel more cohesive as a whole and helps the scene hit a whole lot harder when you do get to it. Like I said though I'm lazy and I also don't like creating more work for myself if I don't have to, and if by chance the story doesn't shake out the way I thought it would by the time I get to that moment then god is it a pain to rewrite that sort of thing.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Mostly I find it helps keep me focused on where it's going. It's a late stage thing though, I don't start doing this until I'm sure I know how the story will be laid out more or less chapter by chapter, which brings me to:

GO BACK AND CHECK IF YOU HAVE A MIDDLE OF YOUR STORY. ARE YOU SURE? GO BACK AND CHECK AGAIN. This is like the number one pitfall I see basically everywhere across any genre, both with fanfiction and professionally (and in movies always winds up manifesting in reviews as "the movie gets kind of aimless after a while/the third act kinda starts out of nowhere after a really slow part). People have an idea for a strong beginning, the rising action and the big dramatic moment when the stakes are raised, maybe a quiet moment in the middle reflecting on all the tension of the plot and how it's reflecting on the characters, a thing that sets off the end, probably an idea how it ends and how things resolve, et cetera -- and they will forget that at no point did they actually create any connective tissue between their plot development points. Travel! Character beats! The actual events in between big beat A and big beat B, no matter how barebones! Go back and check if you've made any!

As someone that writes a lot of heavily character-driven stuff I'm very biased here, but: in my opinion, if you have good, solid characters, they can carry even the most barebones dogshit story because they are the lenses that the audience is experiencing the world from and through, and whose actions are potentially shaping the course of the story, and of course who the reader is getting attached to. Conversely, even the richest, most lavishly detailed world and story is going to land with a thud if your characters aren't any good and don't have any more to them than making various political developments happen, because at that point you don't have a story with different elements interacting with each other to create events and tension, you have a lore wiki, which is not the same thing as a story. Maybe you could use that for a tabletop RPG, but people aren't necessarily gonna want to read it.

RELATED: JRRT was a linguist and historian first and a writer second. Lore is great and all and can help your world feel like it's a living breathing place, but think about if it's a good detail to include onscreen or not, or if it's just there to "flesh out the world". Stop to consider if this actually has a demonstrable effect on the things happening in front of the reader or not, and if anyone would notice if it were removed outright. Can some things be assumed? What might need to be explained?

Keep an eye on narrative voice versus character voice! If I stripped the dialogue tags from your story, could you still tell who was talking? Does everyone just talk like the narration? Like each other? Like you? Everyone is gonna sound like you at least a tiny bit because you're the one writing it, but at least try to keep an eye on how much you're doing that. It can be pretty boring to just listen to one guy talk the entire time across multiple mouths haha don't look at how long this post is getting shhhhhh

Any story (but especially horror, and especially especially cosmic horror), lives and dies by its suspension of disbelief. The rules don't need to be realistic because it is all made up, and they can be any rules you want, and if you establish them clearly then the audience will buy in as best they can because they want to engage with your story on its own terms (or they SHOULD grumble grumble but that's another discussion and not really something the author can control), but then once you've made them you need to stick to them, or when you do break them it should wind up meaning something.

Suspension of disbelief in horror or fantasy can be trickier, especially when it's something weird and the rules aren't even mechanically sound in their own setting. In that case, the important thing to preserve is emotional stakes the audience can buy into, about how this situation might feel to be in, or if there are any things in real life it might feel similar to. This one's more intuitive than you'd think. Sure, you might not know that the veil of reality is flimsy and all it would take to destroy it all is to get noticed by something much vaster than you could ever imagine; but you probably DO know what it's like to be one missed rent payment from losing everything and realising your safety was really all that never sound. I don't even flinch if someone's head explodes into gore in a movie, but I'll always wince and look away if someone has their fingers crushed or their eye pierced, because even though the violence is lesser I can imagine that happening to me and I don't like it one bit!

Horror can potentially struggle with this pretty badly. Unless you're writing a slasher where the point is to watch some dumb teens bite it, your movie won't actually be scary unless the audience can in some way feel endangered, and they won't be able to do that if what is going on is too disconnected from anything a human could experience. Writers tend to get fixated on making a Really Gross Scary Thing(TM) or Biggest Evilest Threat Evar(TM) and assuming their job is done.

There's no one right or wrong way to do something, but be aware that sometimes things tend to come up in stories a lot for a reason. The tools you have are just tools. Complaining a story has tropes in it is like complaining a tree is made of wood.

That said, if you're thinking of your story entirely in terms of which tropes you want to use, it may be time to take a step back and think about what you actually want to accomplish rather than mushing the same paste into the same holes for the 800th time (more on that later).

Dialogue. If it's something you struggle with, remember that chances are you're a person that knows how to talk, and so you inherently know how to create dialogue. The biggest pitfall I see is people overthinking it trying to "Write Dialogue in this Story" rather than just typing an idea the way they know inherently that it would be typed. If you wanna try and capture a much different voice, spend time listening to people -- and I mean really listening. People double back, correct themselves, trail off, change their train of thoughts in the middle, do more or less of these things when they're in a certain emotional state depending on their personality.

Frankly I'd spend time listening to real people anyway. Spend too much time online and characters wind up sounding like Twitter threads, or worst case scenario you wind up with perfectly articulated ideas and Therapy Speak. A character might not have the vocabulary you, someone who has been online for eighty to ninety years (est) would to convey specific ideas, and not everyone is perfectly self-aware about what they're saying. Someone's probably more likely to say "fuck you I had a bad day" than they are to go "gosh i dislike how much your own success reminds me of how my own mother held me to impossibly high standards so i have very high rejection sensitivity which is why i'm lashing out". Or, again, if someone does talk like that make it mean something. It could be a good example of someone either being insincere and going through keywords to shut someone up, or someone that's very socially awkward giving a rehearsed speech, and those are all potentially interesting ways to then take a story.

(Sidenote because I see this come up sometimes: Hate to single out a single genre here, but anime and by extent video games but mostly anime is a bad place to learn to write dialogue from -- if you're listening to a dub, they had to translate stuff from Japanese and then make it fit lip flaps on a screen, and if you're watching subs, not only were the subs translated but anime trends heavily towards melodrama and Japanese people typically do not speak that way.)

You gotta know the rules before you can break 'em! Read books. Actual books I mean, not just fanfic. Broaden your horizons. When you start breaking rules it will be because it's what you want to do.

Personal nitpicks, some fandom specific and some not. I'm aware some of these are basic but also you never know who might need to hear this stuff so:

Hentai is not a good place to learn about writing actual sex. It's a great place to learn about sex that is following pure porn rules, in which case go nuts and godspeed soldier, but unless you want your scene to come off as either unintentionally rapey or full of nonsensical leaps of moon logic when you're trying to write an otherwise somewhat grounded setting, you should probably read actual books meant for actual adults about fucking, or pull from your own experiences if you're able.

* This isn't advice but I want it known at this point I've seen at least three fanfics clearly written by a middle schooler that's never fucked before and honest-to-god genuinely seems to think some degree of omegaverse is how actual sex works. So that'll be interesting to encounter going forward. If you aren't committing to porn rules (there's that "the rules can be anything you want so long as they're internally consistent" bit again!) do research is my point.

If you started your character creation with their outfit and can tell me their star sign, bust measurements, the four shirts plus jacket plus socks plus shoes they're wearing, the kind of weapon they can summon, eye colour, hair colour, skin colour, height and weight, their agility score versus their magic score, and their favourite ice cream flavour, and yet you have one paragraph about "personality", your focus might not be in the right place and you are making an MMO character. That's fine for something you're going to be staring at the back of for 200 hours but maybe not for someone you're going to need to live inside the head of. Start with personality, and you can tailor all that fun back cover dossier stuff around who that person is and how it would inform the way they dress.

Bad child dialogue is my biggest pet peeve personally and I will immediately put a book down when I encounter it lol. A bigger portion of people are around children than you think and will notice if you've never interacted with a kid before. Children are not cavemen and do not talk like them. The gaps in their vocabulary tend to come from them having a limited amount of it and adapting new phrases into the few existing frameworks they have. This carries over to their psychology, by the way.

Specific to cosmic horror: you can't just make a Gross Thing, your horrors need actual motivations. Nobody cares how big of a squid you can invent, and going "uhhh it's so scary I don't have to bother can't describe it" can only work so many times and is not an excuse to at least not try to describe something. How it makes the characters feel, what the experience is like, whatever. Now, you don't ever have to tell the readers directly what the motivations of your old gods are, but you the writer should come up with some to shape their behaviour so the readers can see the inscrutable ghosts of clear patterned actions that almost make sense yet remain just outside human comprehension oooooooooo. Also readers can generally tell when that's missing and all you have is Large Squid Scary doing random gross shit so it's not an excuse to skimp.

Stop using hair epithets. Stop using hair epithets. Stop using hair epithets. Stop using hair epithets. Stop using hair epithets. Stop using hair epithets. We have pronouns. We have context clues. We have sentence structures that convey what is going on to the reader. We have nouns. If you are going to constantly refer to your character as The Brunette it better be hugely massively goddamn significant that her hair is brown or it's gonna become clear real fast that you just ran out of ways to phrase things and it's gonna take people right out of the story. If the only way you can think of to describe your character in an intense emotional scene is "uhhh this is the one with the brown hair remember I hope you didn't forget" then that's code fucking red. Stop using hair epithets. Stop using hair epithets. Stop using hair epithets. Stop using hair epithets. Stop using hair epithets. Stop using hair epithets.

And the two biggest bit of advice I can come up with for people trying to improve their craft that I give out every time:

1 Have a point. Have a clearly identified reason in your mind about what you want to accomplish with this story. This will help you get your thoughts in order when you are stuck, it will help you outline the story if you're not sure where you want it to go next, it will help other people troubleshoot with you if you aren't sure how to start solving a problem, it will help you make decisions about what and what not to include to help it feel complete, and it will help motivate you when you start to lose track of why you even started this project. Saying "well it's a Vampire AU and I want to do Hurt/Comfort with an ambiguous ending and a BAMF!Scrongus with Soft!Cromgle" doesn't tell me a damn thing, either as a reader OR as someone potentially trying to help you whip the thing into shape. That's a bit like asking, "How do I write a Cute yet Cool character?" like bitch I don't know it's your story there are a million ways to write this stuff and yes that is a real question I got asked once.

Instead, have an actual, identifiable goal that is personal to you, what you want to write, and what you have to say. That can be anything from "I have a lot of strong opinions about why gender is, across the breadth of experiences possible with human consciousness, a zero sum game that must be internally and deliberately engaged with before one is then able to determine their own relationship to it" to "oh man i love the idea of Mark from Accounts Receivable one day going apeshit and beating Jake from Auditing half to death with an office chair and the fallout that would generate and maybe also someone FINALLY FINALLY asks him for the first time 'hey dude are you okay do you wanna talk'" to "god it'd be so hot if this guy were bent over a pool table drooling onto the velvet and i am going to do everything in my power to facilitate that somehow". Either way, clear mission statement and goal that isn't just telling me what tags you're slapping on the finished product! If you have that kind of clarity of vision it will come across in your piece and resonate with people because it's a complete thought that the work is able to deliberately showcase, instead of just churning out Content™ that fits certain templates that are popular, even if you like said templates. What do you have to say? Why did this idea stick in your brain so hard you had to write it down and tell the world about it? What parts of it especially did you want to convey so badly? Show us!

2 Writing is vulnerability by proxy. Until we get the technology for brain uploading, you are only going to ever be you in your own head with your own thoughts, experiences, biases, and worldviews. If you think you can write something without exposing a lot of really revealing shit about yourself to an audience that notices it, perish that thought now. Quentin Tarantino and HP Lovecraft weren't slick about it and you won't be either. This is neither a bad thing or a good thing, it just is, and whether it affects the work for better or for worse is honestly dependent upon how you engage with that fact. I will say trying to back away from it generally leads to problems (unexamined prejudices showing up in stories, worldviews that it turns out most people don't share going stated simply as fact rather than being supported by the writing around it). It can also lead to a stronger story, though, if you're willing to engage with it. Engaging honestly with what scares you and why, what you find comforting, uplifting, upsetting, et cetera. All of these require vulnerability, and allowing other people to see that, and it's going to happen with your without your consent because you're the one writing the thing, so you may as well make peace with it and lean in. "But what if it's cringe" too late baby most things are cringe and that shouldn't be your focus. You are fighting a losing battle. We are all cringe. But we are free.

Hope this helps. I just know I've left half a sentence fragment in here that I said I'd come back to and then forgot oh god

#asks #Anonymous #spitegarbage

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cerastes · 2 years

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Man, Invitation To Wine is, much like certain parts of Who Is Real?, very Wuxia, but way WAY more Wuxia.

Ok, first of all, I need to explain a little something: Wuxia and telenovelas are literally the same thing, except latinos like love triangles and figuring out who the baby’s true father is more than sick kung fu, which, as a latino myself, I’ll take the L for, I think China’s on the right here, hence why I watched Wuxia practically every day when I was a teen. But essentially, if you put aside that specific difference, Wuxia and telenovelas are the same damn thing: “We have underlying drama, everyone’s connected, and there’s twist after twist”.

And Invitation To Wine is quite damn literally that and I love it. The synopsis to it has you thinking “oh boy, Ling is gonna do some crazy shit...!” but then the event is Mr. Lee coming across like three different Wuxia movies, concluding in him being dragged in the middle of a deathmatch involving a retired swordsman and a pole-fighter consumed by revenge, Mr. Nothing (a Wuxia protag from another story altogether) practically getting in a fistfight with an earth-bending cop, and Miss Du trying to make her dad (the retired swordsman) fail at a job, but only a little, ALL the while the lord of the area, a taciturn man and good friend of Mr. Lee, courts another high-ranking court member in the most ancient of manners as they flirt with all the enthusiasm of teen with a Red Bull addiction yet all the initiative of a bear hibernating, so they sit there, smoldering in the most polite sexual tension possible, ALL THE WHILE Miss Ning, the high-ranking official, realizes something is up so she hires an Australian bounty hunter to steal from him to help him, which is as Wuxia as it fucking gets (sans the Australian bit, they hire Korean mercs instead). It gets SO WUXIA at one point that Dusk steps in and just puts them in timeout for like five days (painting time) because she’s more of a telenovela person I guess.

Mr. Lee was supposed to deliver one damn cup and instead ends up in the middle of a Venn Diagram of three different Wuxias, and the moment he gets SOME breathing space thanks to Dusk’s Spell Of Stop Fucking Fighting, the damn cup turns out to be cursed and takes over his body, but ONLY in the dream realm, and then they play Go (known as Weiqi in China), and Lee fucking sucks at it, and loses so bad he wins, so the evil god in the cup loses, and when he comes back to the realm of the living, the Wuxia (triple) sort of resolved itself, but THEN the super evil dragon god awakens, but not really, so they beat it, but not really, and then Ling is like “hey what’s up man” and Nian is like “hey man we gotta do something about that” and Ling is like “really?” and Nian is like “yeah” and Ling is like “fuck, man, you make a great point, let’s do this shit” and THEN some old dude shows up and he’s the Oldest and Dudest so the sisters actually listen to him, and what does he have to say? “Nian, I need a civil engineer so work I’m gonna commission you” and she’s like “shit alright man” oh btw he casually mentions there’s some dude that’s 738 years old fighting superdemons in the north of Yan? But that’s irrelevant, anyways, Nian is a civil engineer now.

So in the end, Mr. Lee, like Luigi, wins by doing nothing (the action, not the dude). He didn’t even fight once. He’s one of the damn 6 stars in the banners! We know he’s got hands! And he was involved in three Wuxias and one god-possession at the same time and didn’t even show off a single move! What a legend.

What I’m trying to say is that Invitation To Wine is the golden standard of writing.

#arknights #lee #ling #nian #dusk #I fucking love this game man

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let-us-cultivate-our-garden · 1 year

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Hot Take: Luz’s arc in S3 would have worked better if she started drawing parallels to and questioning her actions in reference to CALEB, not Belos. She left her mom because she didn’t fit in and wanted more in life, like Caleb left Philip behind, and she sees her current actions as unintentionally harming those she cares about, just as Caleb’s decision hurt Philip and his attempts at calming Pip down and preventing him from hurting Evelyn only caused Caleb’s own demise, Evelyn’s grieving, their child to have no father, and Philip’s further descent into madness. We’d have much needed insight into the backstory and internal conflict that actually makes a bit more sense? And perhaps some sympathetic insight into Belos on Luz’s end, as she’d recognize Belos’ less than ideal upbringing???

Totally with you there, anon. Luz just spent most of season 3 angsting over "helping" Belos when narratively, this does nothing for her character and her friends end up supporting her because they have done nothing but support her.

Camila acknowledged her mistakes as a parent but Luz never really owns up to hers this season. Luz's arc in the last season is to be depressed about helping the evil tyrant, have her friends try to get her out of her rut (one of whom was just possessed by his abusive uncle and he has to emotionally support her), talk to her mom and learn how it's ok to make mistakes, her palisman hatches because she wants to be "understood" even though this hasn't really been a concern of hers in a whole season, have a nightmare sequence about her friends blaming her again for helping Belos even though we just resolved this and the nightmare isn't even broken by a deep character revelation, she helps rehabilitate the Collector, dies, comes back with Titan powers, and defeats Belos.

So instead of bringing the Luz/Philip/Caleb parallels to the forefront as they were doing a whole season and for the first two episodes of season 3, the show dumps all of that and adds in unnecessary drama that has no narrative tension and is resolved with pep talk, and basically turns her into the hero of her fantasy stories.

We could have had a real character moment for Luz as she realizes her past wrongs and confronts Belos that she really isn't like him--not because he's evil and she's good but because they both had similar goals and desires but she realized that her desires were selfish and harmful and grew as a person because of it, while he clung onto his desires and beliefs and destroyed himself and nearly everyone else in the process.

We could have had more on Belos' thought process instead of "lol, he's just evil!" and how it was a perfect storm of factors that made Belos. Perhaps we could have had Belos realize all this since they seemed to suggest his repressed guilt in "For the Future."

We could have had it all.

#the owl house #toh critical #toh criticism #luz noceda #emperor belos #philip wittebane #caleb wittebane

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rainsoughtflowers · 1 year

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*evil laughter in the distance* so you want requests, huh? I got you one.

part two of wavering hatred, short story and I don't remember if reader is fem or gn but I don't mind lol. karma and y/n resume their talk in the cave korosensei pushed his fave couples into. and what yn does is half of a confession, basically just asking him desperately as to why he makes them feel like that. karma is taken aback, doesn't even answer the fucker. so the episode keeps going normally as much as tension can be considered normal and the helping Irina-sensei happens blah blah blah. night falls on the island and yn is very much restless. not able to sleep they go on a walk and as they are walking in the dark hallway they pick up their eyes only to meet karma's surprised ones how romantic. they end up at the beach side by side resolving the tension sweetly with karma not being a teasing asshole for once, or so you'd bc he ends up trying to make up the lost time with a sweet long kiss make out sesh time

don't know if the last one counts as NSFW for you so if it does feel free to skip it obviously. this is the vague image of what I'd like to see but if you deem any changes necessary to suit your style then so be it, you are the writer after all. take your time and if you don't like it I have many more scenarios in store so dw :)

have fun writing!!

baited breaths

tw/cw - kissing lmao, a little bit of cursing.

a/n - hihihihi REALLY sorry this took forever but i was suddenly in a karma akabane mood :D

this work is multiple parts. part one.

it didn’t take long for you to recover from whatever sickness was forced upon you. your slumber had been interrupted by the loud sounds of blades slicing the air, and after groggily opening your eyes and sitting upright you recognized it to belong to a helicopter. your head throbbed due to the sounds and motions, and yet you still found yourself searching among the crowd. scanning for a shade of red still bright inside your mind.

you felt an emotion close to relief when karma akabane emerged, appearing unscathed and wearing his infamous smirk. gold scanned the crowd, and you mentally cursed the skipping of your heart when they rested on you. you pulled at the sheets covering the lower portion of your body, wringing your hands through the fabric to busy yourself as the contact never broke. something unexplainable passed over his features, your mind still foggy with sleep and the fever still burning your skin. but just as quick as the male was there he was disappearing, and your own thoughts drifted when you were handed a supplement supposed to cure you of your illness. you laid down, forced to close your eyes for more hours of slumber.

the next time you saw karma was early afternoon the following day, when you finally awoke feeling much better than before. it appeared most of the students slept past the early hours of the morning, though it was definitely much needed after the event filled night previously experienced.

you found karma on the floor, body leaned back and his arms supporting his weight. his head was lifted towards the sky, eyes closed as his red strands of hair billowed in the wind. he looked so…peaceful. not a trace of mockery or amusement on his features. one would barely be able to tell that the boy was actually the epitome of trickery.

it was almost like he knew you had arrived, eyes fluttering open to rest on your face. a smile curled his lips, and all peace was gone from his expression the moment he tilted his head and spoke.

“were you staring at me?” he teased, your cheeks flaring red in response to his question. because you were, but you'd never admit to such a thing in front of him, especially after the events from the night before. your mind still refused to recall the warmth that lingered on your fingertips and the embarrassing revelation you'd made about your feelings towards your classmate. unfortunately, it hadn't been the poison. you did find yourself attracted to him, as infuriating as his personality was.

you released a huff, sitting down beside him while folding your arms across your chest, “as if! i was just surprised.”

“by how attractive i am?” karma's smile was devilish, and you refused to meet the gold in his eyes as you released another frustrated breath.

“about how deceiving you are. if only all the girls swooning for you knew how horrible your personality actually is.”

everything about karma's hurt expression was fake, “such harsh words coming from someone who is only alive because i saved them.”

“that was a group effort. don’t go taking all the credit.”

“sorry, what was that?" karma cupped a hand over his ear, leaning in closer, "i was recalling how you called me smart and cool while on your deathbed.”

embarrassment flooded its way through your body, “that’s not-!”

your next words were interrupted by koro sensei’s entrance, and you’re forced to simply glare at the teen before giving your attention to your teacher. he was no longer trapped in the little small ball he had secured himself within during your last assassination attempt, back to wearing his tacky floral patterned shirt. the yellow octopus grinned, nerves stirring in your stomach when he spread his tentacles and proudly announced your next class activity.

a test of courage.

nagisa repeated the creature's words, confusion laced within his tone. if even possible, koro sensei’s smile widened, his tentacles reaching up to stretch the limbs, “yes! what better activity for a midsummer night?”

“you just want to have fun.” karma sang, his own smirk widening.

the red head’s accusation resulted in a lecture by your teacher, his voice dripping with irritation as he spoke about the loss of his vacation after being stuck in a ball. you couldn’t help but giggle at the reminder, hiding your laugh behind your hand.

still, his rant seemed to lift the spirits of your peers, talking excitedly among themselves about the upcoming activity and what might occur during it. you weren't sure what to think, hesitant about the idea of possibly encountering ghosts or something so frightening you'd embarrass yourself in front of your classmates. well, embarrass yourself in front of karma. you'd never hear the end of it.

speaking of the male, you found your eyes drifting to his face, trying to gauge his reaction to the proposed activity. of course, just as you expected, karma's eyes were bright with delight, perhaps amused by the prospect of getting to see whatever tricks your teacher decided to pull during the so called test. he was probably also excited to hear the screams that would eventually erupt from everyone's throats.

you glanced away, praying that this test of courage wouldn’t take place where karma would be able to make fun of you.

your stomach twisted itself into knots, and you couldn't differentiate between the nerves you felt entering the dark cave or the butterflies that arrived the moment karma began walking by your side.

of course. you should've known that the moment koro sensei proposed the test of courage, he hadn't intended to see which students were the bravest in the class. he was playing cupid. and for some stupid, horrible, confusing reason, he thought you and karma were a match.

the air in the cave was humid, making your skin feel sticky with sweat the deeper you went. it was also dark, and it didn't help that karma was the only one with a flashlight, forcing you to stick closely by his side. his skin was warm each time it brushed against your own, and you forced yourself to keep your eyes straight ahead to hide the red steadily scorching your cheeks.

it was quiet for the first couple of minutes, the only sounds being the water dripping from spikes in the ceiling and your own steady footsteps. you're surprised, since you had been anticipating karma's teasing remarks about how scared you looked. your eyes kept darting nervously around the enclosed area and your fingers never seemed to stop shaking. but he remained quiet, and one look at his expression showed...nothing. karma akabane appeared impassive.

"you look like you're having fun." you joked, trying to lighten the mood. even if karma was not reminding you of your current state, that was more scary than your endless bickering. you were relieved when karma glanced at you and twitched the corner of his mouth up into a smile.

he shrugged, facing forward once more, "it’s actually boring in here."

"why?"

"no one to watch scream."

you rolled your eyes at his response, "of course you'd say that."

karma glanced at you once more, opening his mouth to say something, but he's interrupted by the flicker of blue fire and the sound of an Okinawa shamisen.

you both turned at the sound, karma passing the flashlight over the walls until finding the source. you jumped, scooting yourself closer to the boy beside you when koro sensei appeared like a ghost from the shadows.

"this is a blood-drenched cave of tragedy...where Ryukyu royalty, defeated in battle, met a violent end." his voice echoed in the cave, his words ringing in your ears even after the light went out and he disappeared.

your fingers curled themselves in the fabric of karma's shirt, nervously glancing around the cave. you knew something scary was supposed to pop up sometime during the ‘test’, but you hadn’t anticipated it being your teacher. and what was with the creepy music and costume? chills traveled down your spine, but you could find no further sign of the yellow octopus. you released a breath, glancing up to meet unsuspecting eyes.

there were no words in the dictionary you could use to describe what you felt in that moment. karma's eyes were clear, almost like water, and they tipped over and spilled gold down your form with each second that passed. as you stared, bathing yourself within the pools, your heartbeat quickened within your chest, the sound so loud within your ears you feared he could hear it. his own expression was hard to place, but you caught the surprise that flickered across it when your noses found themselves only mere inches apart. the butterflies returned, fluttering in your stomach and you swallowed thickly to compose yourself.

"kar-"

"you must stay together."

a scream is released from your throat, your body clinging onto karma's when koro sensei appeared right behind you. but just as quick as your teacher was there he was gone, leaving only the echoes of his voice bouncing off of the walls.

leave it to koro sensei to ruin a perfectly good moment.

you released the breath you’d been holding, registering your current position when you felt karma's muscles tense beneath your hands. hastily you pulled yourself away, refusing to meet his eyes as you grabbed the flashlight he had dropped and began to walk further into the cave.

"we should get out of here." you mumbled quickly, not daring to look back to check if he was following after you. your cheeks burned along with your shame, hating how foolishly you'd clung to his form. how pathetic was that? if karma didn't have an excuse to make fun of you before, he definitely did now. you could already picture the horrible smile on his face and the teasing tone of his voice.

"back then, what were you trying to say?"

your steps faltered, and you quickly turned around in confusion, "what?"

"when you were sick,” karma began, taking one step closer. your eyes followed the movement, before taking in the serious expression on his face, “you said you had something important to tell me."

you recalled the delirious words uttered the previous night, feeling your cheeks warm at the thought. you had been so close to confessing to him. confessing. in all honesty, you had hoped karma would forget about it, but perhaps his thoughtful expressions rooted from that unfinished conversation, "ah, that,” you shook your head, waving off his curiosity, "forget it. it was nothing."

"so you're a coward." karma declared.

you glared at him, hating how you knew he was provoking you for a reaction, and you still fell into his trap, "i'm not a coward."

"really?” the male stepped closer, and his eyes were the definition of mockery when they met your own, “your actions say otherwise."

"god, you are really infuriating,” you laughed, muttering bitterly beneath your breath, “i must be stupid to fall in love with you."

karma suddenly grows quiet, and when the irritation disappeared you finally registered what had been said. your eyes widened, expression mirroring the boy before you.

“oh my god.” you mumbled, putting your hands over your lips, “oh my god. i can’t believe i just said that.” how could you be so stupid? confessing your feelings? and on accident, too? you began pacing, your heart racing within your chest as you tried to think of what to do to salvage the situation. but there was no fixing it. karma knew, and the sight of his frozen state made you even more anxious, “well don’t just stand there, say something!”

but he doesn’t. the red head stays rooted to his spot, the only indication of emotion being his widened eyes and parted lips. you feel the dread stir in your stomach the longer you are forced to listen to the echoes of falling water and koro sensei’s words further down the cave. after several moments of karma’s continued silence you let out a frustrated breath. well, you got your answer then.

this time you really do turn around and walk off, refusing to look back. you would not cry. you would not. and you would not care about the fact that his footsteps never quite reached your ears.

karma probably thought of your infatuation as a joke.

that could be the only explanation for his current actions. as soon as you both emerged from the dark cave and met the eyes of all your classmates he began the teasing, talking about how carelessly you had thrown yourself upon him and the shrill scream you had let out. his words made you fume with anger, glaring at the redhead as he continued without an ounce of shame. why did he have to be such an asshole? where was the boy that was worried about you the night before? you began to laugh at yourself. you really were a fool for liking him.

everyone's attention is quickly diverted, however, when miss irina emerged from the cave with her hands tightened around karasuma's arm. sly, mischievious smiles formed on your classmates faces, and it's almost laughable how quickly they scrambled together to form a plan. you had no choice but to forget about your previous anger and join the scheming when rio pulled you into the small circle formed.

they began by provoking the poor woman into giving them answers, poking fun at her lack of experience and the obvious crush she had on the man. although she denied it at first, she eventually gave in, and you found the averted eyes and dusted cheeks to be cute on her usually pissed off expression. the other students seemed to think so, too, and they eagerly assured the blonde woman that the perfect love stage would be set for the two of them.

koro sensei led the quick debrief of what the plan would be, holding up a small whiteboard and wearing square rimmed glasses. the first part of the plan was to change her outfit, their reasoning being that karasuma wasn't into the revealing clothing she normally wore. yet, even after switching out her clothes for a white frilly dress, somehow she made it appear far more provocative than it actually was.

they tried coming up with the man's ideal type, only to realize that the 'woman' he was interested in was actually a military potential. okuda suggested cooking for him, but it was quickly scratched when karasuma only seemed to eat fast food. dejection quickly crossed over everyone's faces when they realized their stoic teacher was probably the problem and not miss irina’s attitude.

koro sensei was quick to lighten the mood, however, instructing the girls to help miss irina with her appearance and the boys with setting up a romantic dinner. you almost scoffed at the thought, for you couldn't imagine karma being romantic, let alone creating the atmosphere for your dear plan. you quickly turned away and joined the rest of the group when you felt his eyes lingering on your form.

the plan was simple. take up nearly every seat inside the building to force the two teachers outside for dinner. the rest was up to them.

rio and yada do an amazing job forcing karasuma outside when the time came around, bodies splayed across the seats as mischief gleamed in their eyes. they teased the older man, suggesting that he find a place to sit elsewhere despite there being none. when karasuma looked around and spotted every table occupied he sighed, heading towards the door without another word. the moment he left the building you all scrambled up from your seats, finding several hiding spots outside to eavesdrop.

you found yourself behind a bush, staring intently at the scene before you. it really was romantic. the sky was a beautiful painting of purples, reds, oranges and yellows, the waves crashing against the shore creating a beautiful sound. miss irina looked lovely in her new outfit, her face glowing with the golden shades of the sun cast across her skin, and her blue eyes sparkled when karasuma sat down beside her.

for a majority of the dinner it was quiet, the two adults eating at their own respective paces. you began to worry that your plan was a fail, and that your oblivious teacher would fail to realize he had been set up for a date. but just as the setting sun was getting ready to disappear beneath the horizon he spoke, and you all leaned in closer in hopes to hear what was being said.

your ears couldn’t pick up on anything, but you saw miss irina frown, karasuma looking at her with a confused glance. she remained silent for a moment, before she reached up, cut the tie holding her hair together and asked him a question. she received no response, a small smile turning her lips as she got up from her seat and walked over to his own. you released a soft gasp when she picked up the napkin, kissed it, and then pressed it to his lips.

she walked away, glancing back briefly to utter the words in her heart. and then she turned around, and you stared dejectedly at her form getting closer and closer to your hiding spots. that was the end.

you lowered your gaze, tightening your fingers around the fabric of your pants. despite the woman’s bitchy attitude, you admired miss irina. she had been brave, despite her date going no where. you knew what it was like to like someone who would never see you the same way.

you don't join the other students who get up and scold the woman, silently listening from afar to their raised voices and teasing remarks. instead your eyes drifted towards the piercing gold behind a palm tree, catching karma akabane's intense stare. well, at least he had the decency to cease his own teasing. he didn't smile at you, nor could you find a trace of mischief or amusement hidden in the pools of gold. instead the boy appeared to be thinking. over what? how rude his actions had been? the confession you had carelessly uttered?

you got up and walked away. you found that you didn't want to find out.

you couldn't sleep.

no matter how much you tossed and turned to change into a more comfortable position your mind refused to quiet down, annoying you greatly. it had been hours since you and the rest of the students turned in for the night, and hours since you struggled to slip into a dream. you didn’t know what was wrong. maybe it was the nerves prickling your skin, itching and clawing with great intensity. or maybe it was the reoccurring thoughts spinning endlessly in your mind, remaining even after you put on music to drown it out.

when your body refused to sleep yet again you groaned, tearing the blanket away from your body and slipping on your shoes. if you couldn't sleep, then you'd walk. maybe the exhaustion would finally let you rest.

you wandered quietly through the dark hallways, watching the shadows dance across the walls and the pale moonlight slipping through the windowpanes. it remained utterly quiet during the time of night, though you could hear the faint sound of crashing waves and billowing trees. it was calming, and you found yourself turning a corner to slip outside to the beach.

your movements faltered when you almost ran into another body, stepping back with surprise. who was also awake during the middle of the night? you squinted through the dark, trying to decipher the facial features and the frame of their body. your heart dropped to your stomach when you recognized the apple red hair and intense golden eyes.

you avoided the boy’s gaze, brushing past him without another word. you weren’t in the mood to talk, especially to him. you just wanted peace and quiet. a moment to think. you were so adamant about your decision that the only reason you paused was when he spoke up, voice carrying quietly through the night.

"gonna ignore me? i thought you were in love with me or something."

karma’s words strike an anger in your body so intense you couldn’t help but turn around and yell at him, not caring that frustrated tears gathered in the corner’s of your eyes, "you're a jerk, you know that?”

you released an aggravated breath, quickly turning back around to rush outside. why did he have to be so confusing? one moment he’s kind, taking care of you while on the brink of death. and then the next? it’s like karma completely disregarded his previous actions, returning to his annoying, old self. had you imagined that night? the careful way he had led you to your bed and the ghost of his fingers holding onto your own? and you, why did you still like him, teasing and all?

you plopped down onto the sand, bringing your knees to your chest as you set your gaze onto the waves pushing and pulling against the shore. you ignored the footsteps that trickled behind you, pausing just behind your figure. you refused to look. you refused to play his game. you thought you were making that clear, but karma just can’t seem to leave you alone, huh?

“why did you follow me?” you muttered. why do any of this?

“what you said in the cave, it must be true then?” karma asked from behind you. you couldn’t see his face, but you thought you heard the slightest hint of genuinity laced in his tone.

you looked back, annoyed, “of course it’s true! you think i would lie about that?”

“i know it’s hard to resist me,” karma smirked, head tilted. you hated how cute he looked by the catlike actions, and how the faltering of his smile and furrowed brows made your breath catch in your throat, “but why?”

why did you like karma? he was arrogant, annoying, and most of all horrible. he may be attractive, but that didn’t make up for the hundreds of times he aggravated you beyond belief. in reality, you shouldn’t.

and yet, there was that other part of him, the one that he rarely ever showed. the vulnerable side of karma akabane that he only seemed to reveal with you.

you glanced down, threading your fingers through the sand and watching the grains slip through your fingers. you took a moment to breathe deeply and formulate the correct words, “you…you’re kind, even if you don’t want to admit to it. you helped me when i was sick and you let me stick close to you in the test of courage. and yeah you’re also a jackass but…i guess i like that, too.”

karma doesn’t speak behind you, and something prompts you to turn around and look at him. the sight surprised you, for karma’s ears are red. really red.

“are you blushing?” you asked, a hint of a smile tracing your lips. it widened when karma’s face grows the same color as the tip of his ears.

“i’m not!” he defended, glaring at you. the sight made you laugh. you never knew karma could get so embarrassed.

“yes you are!” you insisted, unable to help yourself with the thought that ghosted near the surface of your mind, “oh my god. don’t tell me you have a crush on me, too.”

“and if i did?”

karma refused to look at you, gold pinned to the ground as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. he was fidgeting, face growing redder by the minute, and suddenly it began to make sense.

“oh.” you mumbled quietly, heart racing within your chest at the realization.

he took a seat beside you, continuing to glare at the sand by his feet. you waited, patiently, for the male to form whatever words he needed onto the tip of his tongue, “i tease you because i like you.”

you blinked, letting the words sink in. it made sense in a way. karma was definitely the type to torment the person he had feelings for. you found yourself scooting closer to his body, “why didn’t you just say so in the beginning?”

he released a huff, “it’s embarrassing.”

“embarrassing to like me?”

“to admit to it,” you saw his fingers dig into the sand, his glare growing more intense, “i’m not good at feelings.”

you continued to stare at him, fondness flickering like a flame within your chest. karma liked you. he liked you. and even though he was embarrassed beyond belief, he was telling you anyways.

you grinned, getting up and throwing your arms around the male. he released a grunt at the sudden weight of your body on his own, his face turning red once more as you nuzzled your face into the crook of his shoulder, “who knew you could be so cute, karma!”

“shut up.” he mumbled quietly, averting his gaze. but you felt a hand come up and return your embrace, light and hesitant resting on your back.

you squeezed tighter, taking in the warmth of his body and the sweet scent of strawberries lingering on his skin. the whole moment felt surreal, and you weren’t sure what to do with yourself now that you knew the red head’s true feelings.

you pulled away slowly, drinking in the rich gold of his eyes and the pale moonlight glowing upon his face. he was beautiful. and karma, he stared at you with such raw emotion you felt your breath get taken away with the breeze that passed through the night. his eyes flickered down, resting on your lips, and you smiled when his embarrassment told you everything he had thought upon making contact.

well, if karma was too shy to kiss you, you supposed you’d have to do it yourself.

the boy didn’t have time to react when your fingers rested on his cheek and you leaned forward, pressing your lips gently against his own. you felt the way karma’s whole body tensed, surprised, before he eased into the motion of your mouth on his. a small laugh broke through at his initial shock, pulling back slightly to let the sound break through. only, it was your turn to be surprised when he leaned forward and returned the affection with newfound eagerness.

you found that you could’ve kissed karma all night, relishing in the way his fingers wove themselves through your hair and the clumsy motion of his lips as they searched for your own. you weren’t surprised by his inexperience, it was your first kiss as well, but despite the uncertainty it was easy to find a steady rhythm you both liked. your own hands rested on the back of his neck, soothing the skin there and teasing the ends of his hair. karma seemed to like the ministrations when he released a pleased hum, the sound tickling your skin. yes, you could’ve kissed him forever under the delicate light of the moon and the dance of waves across the shore. you could’ve stayed in that moment for eternity, holding your breath for just one more second of his touch.

menu. strawberry rhubarb meringue tartlets..

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