#ik this is written differently from my usual style

[covenantofthedeep]

can i call you tonight? ☆

feat. | scaramouche for chiyo bc u asked, just 10 years later summary | seeing scara after a long time :) set in a coffee shop and modern a/n | tfw u havent written in like three months so u forgot ur formatting and also why do u shitpost sm ✨ and also ur formatting is ugly af time to change it but ur too lazy what the fuck sunny. also ps im sorry if this is ooc

scaramouche |

you haven't heard from scaramouche for ages--probably weeks? probably months? honestly, you're trying to forget, you swear, but you really can't. it takes everything in you to not check who it is when the cafe door opens, every single time. 

maybe this time... maybe this time it'll be him, you tell yourself when the bell jingles above the door.

 you used to go to the cafe to work, because at home, it was too loud, crowded with your family. you have your own place now; there's no reason why you stay at the cafe besides the fact that you met him there the very first time.

he had rushed in from the rain, dripping wet, and painfully short, and your heart had jumped. you'd seen him around town, buying various things (he'd taken a clear hankering to unagi chazuke) and walking. you'd watched him as he'd plodded to the cash register, ordering a coffee (black). you hadn't been able to take your eyes off of him as he'd sat down beside you. 

you had scooted your stuff away, which had prompted him to gruffly ask, "is this seat taken?"

"no," you'd replied, closing your laptop and folding your arms over it. "scaramouche, right?"

that had kindled a friendship--and dare you say, even more?--but then one night, he'd left. not a word, not a letter, not anything. just up and left. it had torn a hole in your heart that you tried to fill with too-sweet coffee and running mile after mile, covering stretches of land in the hopes that you'd glimpse his face.

you loathed how you thought about him, how you dreamt up scenarios where he'd walk into the cafe, apologizing for his absence (usually, something had happened to the tsaritsa and he'd had to leave) and sitting down beside you. sometimes, when you hated yourself, you'd imagine him walking in with someone else on his arm.

you lose yourself in your daydream, sipping slowly at your intensely sweet coffee of the day, when someone pulls up a chair across from you. you ignore them and turn up your music, hoping they'll get the hint. can't they tell?? you're lost in your daydream.

three songs play before the other person apparently decides they've had enough and clears their throat. you glance up and a flush washes over your body, background sounds disappearing. your hands tremble a little bit (fucking hell, you want to laugh at yourself) and you can feel a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. you stifle a little laugh. 

you set your tea down, trying to calm your racing heart down, to no avail. he can probably tell how much you'd missed him right on your face. probably it's written right across your forehead: I MISSED YOU SO MUCH I THOUGHT UP AT LEAST 100 SCENARIOS ABOUT YOU COMING BACK.

this is so stupid, you tell yourself, slowly taking off your headphones. "no way," you mutter, "no way you're back."

he spreads his arms out wide, leaning back in his chair, just as he always did. "what can i say? i missed you."

you scoff, but  this time, you can't stop the smile spreading across your face. "i'm mad, just so you know," you tell him, but pull your chair closer to his. "and i have work to do."

"oh," he says. is it just you, or is he a little bit disappointed? huh. maybe he did miss you after all.

"can i call you tonight?" you ask, packing your things up. "i mean--i will. i will call you tonight."

"yes," you hear him call out as you shut the cafe door behind you.

you walk away with a little pep in your step, beaming so wide it hurts your cheeks.

#ik this is written differently from my usual style #sorry guys #ummmm yeah i haven't written in so long but figured why not :] #gonna try answering all my asks? #or mayhap i will just clear my inbox and ask fornew ones lol #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x you #scaramouche x yn #scaramouche fluff #guys is this angst or fluff #scaramouche fic #scaramouche #kunikuzushi x reader #kunikuzushi x you #kunikuzushi fluff #kunikuzushi x yn

[1moreoffkeyanthem]

I have quite a few hang ups with Come Morning Light, the hunger games au I posted one chapter for back in November and have yet to update.

The first and foremost personal challenge is the fact that I, PCE, a certified Angst Wimp, am gonna have to kill off sooooo many of my faves. Like Hunger Games has some dark ass subject matter, kids forced to kill each other. I’m struggling with that, especially with what I have planned for Craig.

Along that same line, it’s gonna be a HUGE cast of characters, which I’ve had difficulty with in the past, it’s one of the reasons I primarily operate in oneshots. I love a good The Gangs All Here fic, but fleshing out 20+ characters is HARD. Bc a fluffy 2k word oneshot of Stan and Kyle in an awkward meet cute where there’s maybe one other character (usually kenny lmfao I’m a creature of habit) is a WHOLE different animal than a multicharacter multichapter. That’s something I had to figure out recently with TWITR, and character introduction held me up a lot in ATLCTS.

Okay this one may seem really inconsequential to a lot of people, but one thing I didn’t think about when developing this concept was the fact that there’s not really away for me to get around Stan eating meat lmao that’s one thing that over my time writing sp fanfiction has become ESSENTIAL to me characterizing that boy. I’ll probably just have him make a comment about how he could never kill animals himself WHICH BRINGS ME TO:

Kyle as our Katniss character. So if you’re familiar with my bs, every time I write Kyle, he’s inherently less angry until it’s called for, he’s very idealistic in his worldview and it takes something actually really pissing him off for him to snap. This is NOT gonna be the case here!!! This boy is ANGRY BY DEFAULT, the worlds out to get him? fuck the world right back! Plus, the entire story is gonna be from his perspective, bc I love writing Kyle, but it’s gonna take all my willpower not to turn him into my usual empathetic to a fault sweet people loving Kys.

Also, I usually tend to leave the adults mostly out of my stuff, but they’re gonna play quite the role in this. We got Garrison as Haymitch, Big Gay Al as Effie, fuckin Mr Slave as Cinna. I’ve never even WRITTEN the three of them. The dynamics gonna be fun tho.

Ofc there’s the problem of it being an adaptation too. There’s a fine line between just replacing hg characters with sp names and copying the plot, as opposed to making it your own. I do have some plot changes planned, but this is an issue I faced with We’re Gonna Sing It Even So, and that almost led me to abandon that fic when I felt like I was just plagiarizing Hadestown.

Also I’m not planning to adapt more than the first book. I reallllly couldn’t handle Kenny taking out Ike with his trap in the third one.

BUT!!! This won’t be abandoned, it’ll just be slow going!!! Ya wanna know the main reason?

Because the first idea I had for CML (other than Kyle volunteering for his little brother) was STAN AND KYLE IN THE FUCKING CAVE SCENES. A major change is that both of them are already deeply down bad, but those scenes??? Yeah no one’s playing for the cameras. I wanna fuck Stan up in the arena so bad lmfao that boy is my original sp whump muse and NATURALLY Kyle taking care of him I love that shit. Girl we gonna GET that prosthetic leg the movies left out (Ship In A Bottle Stan moment, I love that fic btw) as the Style Injury Dealer, I MUST deliver.

So, yeah, if anyone’s down, I’ll eventually pick it back up lmao.

#sry I know no one cares abt my unsolicited ramblings #also I have that tfbw continuation I’m being begged for #which I’m also struggling with #also…… #i may or may not #have another multichapter work I’m thinking about #plus I always got OJV brainrot so I’ll probably just keep posting headcanons for OrangeJuiceVerse on here instead of writing lmao #smh #south park #the hunger games #au #sp au #my shit #PastorCraigEnjoyer on ao3 #ao3

[audreydoeskaren]

Hi I LOVE your blog!!!

Idk if this is a personal question but I was curious as to why you decided to focus on Ming/Qing/early-mid 20th century fashion. Ik that specializing in specific periods instead of like, everything, is a more effective way of studying/researching stuff. I was just curious why you chose those specific periods to study! (Sorry for any bad english,,,)

Hi and thank you! No worries your English is fine. Um there are multiple reasons for this and my interest for each era developed one after another, sorry that this turned out pretty long.

When I discovered the hanfu community, I was only really interested in Ming Dynasty fashion and not anything else because I’ve only had previous exposure to Ming history. Maybe this is purely personal and I can’t pinpoint an exact reason why, but I was never interested in Chinese history prior to the Ming, like, at all. It’s not that I think it’s bad or boring or anything, it just doesn’t speak to me. This was extended to fashion history as well. To me at the time, Ming fashion looked visibly different to stereotypical expectations of historical Chinese dress fostered by period dramas and such, so I found it very refreshing (obviously the other eras also look nothing like stereotypical guzhuang, but to the untrained eye the Ming is just so wildly different it can’t be missed). I’m also generally a big fan of brocade fabrics and the drape of Ming clothes. At the time I was so obsessed with Ming style hanfu content because it looked so gorgeous and posh and not like anything historic Chinese I’ve seen before, it was novel and exciting.

I got into Republican era fashion a bit later. I forgot the exact reason why, but it was probably just me seeing those iconic 1930s advertisement posters with cheongsam wearing women and deciding to look into it further because why not, it’s connected to my existing interest. I’m generally more well versed with late 19th and early 20th century history since that’s most of what I learned in school and uni, so I had a bit more social context to work with. Also, primary sources like artworks, descriptions and physical artifacts are exponentially more abundant the more recent a time period is, and I realized Republican era fashion was a lot easier to research than Ming fashion, so I decided to focus on that for a while. I’m hooked to this era by the avant-garde designs that were inspired by modernist art, since I have a taste for “degenerate” and weird modern art in general, so that was right up my alley. Aside from that, I think 20th century fashion is especially relevant to understanding the state of Chinese fashion and its discourse today, since we’re inevitably more influenced by what transpired in the 20th century than anything prior to that. It’s like I get a better understanding of my place in the world by looking at this era.

Then I became really frustrated with the lack of English language information about Chinese historical fashion and started this blog. I was writing the series of posts on early 20th century fashion and decided to wrap it up at the 1950s and 60s since I wanted to include the iconic Hong Kong style cheongsam of the midcentury, but thought it wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t say anything about the mainland of the same time. I had a lot of deep seated misconceptions about fashion in the early PRC like everybody else, but the more research I did for the post the more I came to realize they were not true, and I had to reevaluate my perception of the period. I had so many existential crises writing that series (and in the subsequent maintenance of this blog, and I’m sure there are more to come) because putting every bit of knowledge I had at the time into a cohesive timeline exposed many structural and historiographical issues with discourses around Chinese fashion history i.e. the way it’s usually written, and I had to unpack them one by one. Watching movies from the midcentury that were not period dramas or propagandistic in nature was a really shocking experience for me, since they showed people in such gorgeous and nicely tailored clothes I did not expect to see in the Mao era. There were also many sophisticated designs from the midcentury that combined Chinese silhouettes and elements with contemporary Western tailoring (and I think 1950s Western tailoring is *chef’s kiss* perfection) which would definitely be popular nowadays as historical inspired street wear. It’s just so pretty and to contemporary taste. After reshuffling my worldview I developed an obsession with the 1950s as well.

My interest in the Qing came last, mostly because there are so many colonial and nationalist narratives around it and everybody seems to have a negative perception of it that it’s intimidating to start. At this point I had a vague idea about most fashion styles in the Ming and early 20th century, so now the problem for me became one of filling in the gaps. Like, yes I know what fashion at the end of the Ming looked like, I know what fashion at the beginning of the Republican era looked like, what about the stuff in between? So I begrudgingly started looking at Qing fashion, and after the most preliminary research I realized most information out there about Qing fashion is bullshit and incorrect. The 17th and 18th centuries are so poorly researched if researched at all (and not mislabeled as Ming), and Internet and scholarship alike are completely flooded with stereotypical 19th century dress and early 20th century Manchu fashion (which isn’t even in the Qing but that’s never stopped anybody). It sort of became a rush to unearth the truth.

A part of my interest in these time periods at this point is spite, like, I want to see bigoted narratives obliterated and people appreciating historical fashion without being coerced into feeling certain ways. It’s also highly rewarding after unlearning years of conditioning that gave me internalized racism by unpacking some of the narratives I came across in fashion history. It’s nice to finally be able to look at fashion in these eras without a white male colonizer voice telling me what to think in the back of my head…

#rant #? #personal

[humorcast27]

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[mrdarcysdadbod]

Do you dislike Charlotte Bronte as a person, or her writing style (or both)? ik Jane Eyre is The Worst but is there any other reason?

Ohhh thank u for this opportunity to be a hater

(under a cut bc i know i have followers who ARE into the other two Brontes and i respect u i just don't agree w u)

The answer is simply yes! I dislike her as a person, i dislike Jane Eyre, and I don't dislike her writing style necessarily (bc unfortunately when it comes to literature written before 1980 or so it's just inaccessible enough to me that I can't really discern minutiae of style, in the way it's usually meant to mean) but i do dislike a lot of her writing choices.

(the only criticism I think I've ever coherently made of Charlotte's "style" is when I used to say that she and Emily never really left their house or interacted with other people and it showed. Having since read books with characterizations much sillier, both good (the Monk) and bad (Pamela), I kind of retract that, but I also kind of stand by it bc the Brontes are falling into a very different stylistic era than Samuel Richardson or Matthew Lewis, so it's a different vibe yk?)

Jane Eyre blends genres in a way that REALLY doesn't work for me, especially the appearance of the gothic, bc it keeps waffling between whether it wants to be, like, a mediocre virtue novel or a straight Gothic or a subversion of the Gothic and it's all very muddled in terms of like the stylistic and thematic choices. I'm willing to concede that it was experimental or like adventurous but I just... Don't like the result.

I also fundamentally cannot get over the injustice of Bertha Mason's entire treatment. I try not to have firm opinions on Charlotte's writing since i know I'm biased, but the one firm opinion I WILL hold is that JE shouldn't be considered a proto-feminist novel in this day and age. I don't really like the label "proto-feminist" in general outside of applying it to, like, Mary Wollstonecroft bc she WAS the proto-feminist, but the objectification of Bertha Mason is by itself enough to disqualify JE in my mind, without getting into the ways that Jane herself is doomed to the role of caregiver to a deeply abusive man and it's like... fine. Like we're just gonna fully ignore everything about Rochester lying, and presume that he must obviously be telling the truth abt Bertha just naturally being mad by herself with no other factors, bc he certainly hasn't lied and certainly wouldn't lie about abusing his wife when she's clearly not in a position to say otherwise! He’s an honest and trustworthy person for sure :) Bertha Mason is central to my dislike of JE, she is the site of such incredible narrative violence against women, against people of color, against colonized people, against vulnerable people, like it's just. I can't move on from her, sorry.

And I do also DEEPLY dislike, even hate, Charlotte Bronte as an individual as well! She holds my Most Hated Opinion on Jane Austen ("it would be better if there was kissing/it's lacking in passion"), she lied abt using Emma as source material when writing JE (I think I've talked abt that in another post? basically someone was like “oh haha like in emma” and Charlotte was like “what’s emma i’ve never heard of emma (lie)” and then she was like “hm well i read this ‘emma’ business and it was dumb and bad and mine is better so stop comparing them”). Also enough people have linked “liking Jane Austen” and “liking the two Bronte sisters that aren’t Anne” enough after I decided I didn’t like the non-Anne Brontes that it just got on my nerves and i disliked them more out of spite. I’m like, why would I like Charlotte Bronte? Her book is dumb and she thinks Jane Austen is dumb which makes her extra dumb >:C I’m very mature.

And finally, this is the one that is actually repugnant and not just a personal bias issue, she is the reason nobody knows who Anne Bronte is. She stopped Anne's work from being reprinted after her death, bc she felt it was ~too controversial~. Wildfell Hall was crazy successful when it came out! And it's an important book! Literally imagine the world we would be living in if her depiction of the realities of domestic violence in Wildfell was read half as often as the weird half-gothic goofiness of Jane Eyre. It's still fucking relevant today! And almost nobody knows about it, because Charlotte Bronte decided that her sister's work didn't matter.

#mr darcys charming long letters #this is a bronte hate blog #cw negativity #again c bronte lovers. i don't understand u and i don't agree w u but i DO respect you so just like. ignore this lmao #not austen

[izzyspussy]

how different is writing an actual book as opposed to writing fanfiction besides the obvious (og characters/backstories/plots)? Bc publishing my writing is something i’ve always wanted to do, but i’ve never felt compelled to be in depth with metaphors/subplots/motifs, and I’m sure they show up but in a natural way? Does that make me a less efficient author for just wanting to create vs putting together a puzzle? I’ve always liked books with plots to be clear and forward, while leaving room for dissection as like an extra activity vs something thats necessary, if that makes any sense, and I feel like that reflects in my own writing and I can’t tell if that makes it less — and for lack of a better word — good. Ik this is a lot, but generally if you’ve got any tips regarding the process and importance of some aspects of professionally writing, id greatly appreciate it <3

Hi, anon! Thanks for asking, let's see what I can do for you for some answers! ♥

How different is writing a book compared to writing fanfiction?

In my personal experience the biggest difference - just in writing, not editing, publishing, etc - writing a book versus writing fanfiction is actually with characterization. If you have a fully developed character in your mind from knowing what happens to them it can be kind of difficult to write them pre-development and have them change on-page. In fanfiction, usually you already have your starting point with the character and you only have to worry about how to get them where you want them.

(And also you usually can't use lyrics for your titles lol.)

In Depth Subplots & Motifs (& Foreshadowing, etc)

These things are super hard and can be very complicated, so don't worry too much if they're not your favorite thing to work on!

I think at least in regards to motif, if you're really writing from a genuine place it pretty much takes form as you go. Sometimes in the plotting stage you have only the "point" or you have only the fun delivery mechanisms - the characters, plot, setting. Whatever little pieces you start with, in this particular case most of the time the easiest way to figure out the shape of everything else is to just dive in and let it happen.

I also do that a lot with fanfiction, actually, because often it's a total accident. @kedreeva has a post about why sometimes you can realize you have to rework your plot only to find that what you've already written already supports your new direction. I think pretty much everything said there can apply just as readily to motifs and to the purpose your story is meant to fulfill for the audience, or for you. I don't remember any exact words from the post though so I don't think I could find it lmfao. It might be a ways back in my /writing-process tag, but maybe they have easier access to it and can share it again, in which case I'll come back and add the link.

As for subplots, those are really fucking hard and there's not much else I can really tell you about 'em. However! You don't always necessarily need a subplot. They can add extra depth to your characters and to your world, or they can emphasize your main plot, but frankly good character development alone can do those things just as well. It can be a little difficult to get a full novel if you don't have a subplot, but not everyone is a novel writer and that's good! Not everyone is a novel reader either.

Metaphors are also mostly for good flavor. Depending on your subject matter and your style, you might not need them either. Off the top of my head I don't think Steig Larsson (Girl With The Dragon Tattoo) used many metaphors in his series, and that mostly just made the content feel more grounded. It's not for every reader (some might call it 'dry' or 'dense' or something like that) but for some people that's their preference!

You do of course need some background and flavor text other than just A, B, and C things happened, of course, but they can be in any style or amount of detail that you prefer. Your editor and test readers will let you know if something doesn't make sense or seems incomplete.

Does that make me a less efficient author?

If you're writing fiction, it's not really about efficiency! It's about being engaging. Stephen King and J.R.R. Tolkien both spend pages upon pages giving textbook-like information on their worlds or on character backstory that I personally would have said to cut if I was their editor, but again some audiences prefer that kind of read!

If you think it's more interesting/important/fun to spend time on literal description versus making your work fit an aesthetic, then that's what will be interesting/important/fun for the audience you'll find eventually.

The only thing you can really do to find a style that you are satisfied with and is readable is to practice, share your work, be open to critique (when appropriate ofc), and read a lot.

Other Tips

In fanfiction having an editor, beta-readers, critique partners, and maintaining a group of peers is all really kind of optional and honestly even above and beyond. In publishing that is 100% not true. You absolutely need an editor and test readers, and you need to keep up with other people in the industry and especially in your genre and/or publishing method (traditional, indie, self). Mutually assured success is necessary - not a nice extra - in publishing. You have to be willing to spend time on others' work and to accept the value of their input on yours if you want to make good art and reach an audience.

Again, thanks for sending in an ask. I hope this helped!

♥ Jack

I'm an award winning author. AMA!

#jack facts #jack chats #writing process

[wellbafineline]

could you write some Harry fluff about Harry comforting the reader after she struggles with body insecurity?

---------------

A/N - I hope i did this justice, i tried not to dive too deep into body image as ik it can be triggering for some ppl, and i also didn't want to get it completely wrong bc i know one person's experience / feelings aren't universal, so this is more along the lines of the press body shaming the reader and h comforting her, hope this is still okay tho!! tysm for the request!

And a side note, thank you so much for kind words, likes and reblogs on my first piece of writing, it means a lot !!<3

side , side note this is not proofread so i apologise for the extra long sentences or if some things are a bit roughly worded lol.

You were aware of Harry's exes, you couldn't really not be they were some of the world's biggest supermodels, it's just you wish you could, you were just going to read the one article that your best friend had sent to you about you and harry when you went out to dinner. the original purpose of her sending it was to say how hot you looked, it was when harry had taken you out for your 6 month anniversary dinner, but a couple of sly facebook comments and the suggested stories tab had made for good tools to help your spiral. 

It wasn't explicitly written neither in the articles or comments, but the message was clear.

‘Out of everyone he could get why would he choose ,,, her’

Or ‘do you think this was a pity date, no way she's actually his girlfriend’, and a multitude of a lot more upfront comments about how you're not harrys ‘usual type’ so there's not a chance you're actually together.

You knew that you were by no means a supermodel, but you’d never felt this unattractive, or at least not for a while. Of course it's an insecurity, Harry could get any person he wanted but he chose you, and you don't like to dwell on the why for too long, but now it was eating you up.

Looking them up, you were different in every way to Harry's previous relationships, it made sense that the media would compare you, but did he?

Your thought was interrupted by the thump of Harry's shoes and bag hitting the hallway floor.

‘Babe, you here? Got takeaway on the way home, save us cooking, the chinese you wanted to try.’ he called out to you making his way to the kitchen.

You sighed and got up to follow him, meeting him at the island where he's now plating the food and giving him a peck on the cheek.

Harry turns to you looking for a moment before you meet his eyes, ‘y’alright?, normally nearly jump me when i'm home early and bring food’ 

Moving to sit on the counter, opposed to leaning against it with Harry looking down at you. You debate not telling him, just saying unis stressful and you've got an assignment due on monday, and dealing with it by yourself, having a cry when you get back to your flat and it'd be done with, he'd never have to know it bothers you. Only he knows there's no assignment and he also knows you pretty well to see through the white lies. 

Harry moves rubbing up and down your thigh as you begin to tell him,

‘‘Just saw some stuff online, got sent some of the pictures of us out to dinner last week and they came with some lovely comments about me, and you and us, and why you'd choose me’ you can feel yourself rambling at this point but you can't help it the jar was open now, ‘how, you could really have anyone in the world you wanted, which you could y’know, you're harry styles and apparently, according to most of the internet im not worthy, and i know i'm not a supermodel so you don't have to feel bad and tell me i am i just need to get it out of my system so im not stressing all week about everything’

Harry, who looks clearly shocked by your sudden explosion and also like he's about to cry at the same time, suddenly crushes you into a tight hug.

‘Y’know i dont give a shit what them gossip rags say about us don't you? That even if what you said is true and I could have anyone, I'd still want you.’ He’s moved back slightly, now looking at you so intensely with utter determination to expel these thoughts from your head. You nod weakly as he carries on ‘there's a reason that they’re exes, you're who i want, and don't know about you but this is the best relationship i've had, so who gives a fuck what people on facebook or whatever say.’ 

He helps you down for another bone crushing hug, until he hears you breathing start to even out and pulls back to smile at you, which you return, his fingers moving to your cheeks to make you smile comically big.

‘There she is! That's what i like to see!, now Chinese?’

You just nod and let him lead you into the living room with your plates ready to spend all weekend with each other and to never read another tabloid again.

#harry blurb #harry fic #harry concept #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles blurb #harry styles concept #my writing #submission

[violetwolfraven]

Lean on Me

45 for javid—requested by @livininmyhead

I’ve been lowkey parenting all my friends/siblings alone for a while and now you’re helping me and idk what to do with this???

((I know this is a bit different from my usual style, but I’m trying something out so I hope you like it, anyway.))

...

“Hey, what’s wrong, Elmer?”

“It’s nothin’. It’s fine.”

“It clearly ain’t, so what is it?”

“I didn’t make enough to keep my bed tonight. I’m gonna have to sleep at home. I prefer it here, most of the time, but for one night, it’s no big deal. Like I said, it’s nothin’.”

“Don’t you have like... 10 big brothers and sisters, all livin’ in a normal-sized apartment?”

“I have 8. Why?”

“Nah. You’re not goin’ back there. Sharin’ space is bad enough in a Lodging House, but at least there’s enough for all of us. You can sleep with me and Crutchie on the fire escape for the night.”

“Jack, I—“

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, Elmer. And I ain’t lettin’ ya say no, so can the ‘you don’t have to’ bullshit.”

“I... thanks, Jack.”

“Like I said. Don’t worry ‘bout it, kiddo.”

...

“Hey, Jack, ya got a minute?”

“Sure. Need to talk?”

“I was wonderin’... you’re good with things, right? Like... charmin’ people?”

“You’re askin’ me?”

“No, I know how to do it with just anybody to sell papes or whatever. But... but what if it was someone ya actually wanted to... ya know...”

“Ooh! Lookin’ to woo a girl, Romeo?”

“Um... maybe... kind of.”

“...oh. Oh, Ro... It ain’t a girl, is it?”

“No... is that wrong?”

“No. No, Romeo, there ain’t nothin’ wrong with that, or you. Never let no one tell you different. Just... be careful. I don’t have to tell ya what could—“

“You don’t.”

“If ya don’t mind me askin’... who is it?”

“It’s Specs.”

“Oh. Oh my... I should have seen that coming a long time ago. Okay, so, for flirting with Specs specifically, here’s what you’re gonna do, kid...”

...

“Albert?”

“J-Jack! I’ll—“

“Hey, kid, where ya goin’? What’s wrong? Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay. Ain’t no shame in cryin’, Albie. It’s okay. Talk to me, kiddo. What’s up?”

“Go away!”

“No. Like I said, cryin’ ain’t anythin’ to be ashamed of. So why are ya cryin’? What’s wrong, Albert?”

“My... my mom. She’s been sick for a while, but now she’s... she’s...”

“Oh, damn. I’m so sorry, kid.”

“Get off me!”

“Albert, there is no shame in needin’ a shoulder to cry on every now and then, no matter what anyone says. And you just lost your mom, so if anyone’s got an excuse, it’s you. I won’t tell nobody. Just let it all out. It’s gonna be okay.”

...

“Jack?”

“What is—Oh my God!”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know where else to—“

“Sniper, did your father do this? I know you’ve mentioned him bein’ bad before, but I never thought it was this bad.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Snipes... I won’t ask if ya don’t want me to. But the Lodging House has gotta be safer than—“

“My mom needs the money. I can’t.”

“Fine. If ya need to keep goin’ back for her... Remember that you’s always got a place here if it ever gets too much... but for now, I’ll patch ya up so you can go back to your ma.”

“Thanks, Jack.”

...

“Hey, Jack?”

“Yeah, what’s up, Mush?”

“You gave Romeo advice on... makin’ moves on people, right?”

“Yes, I did, and if he told ya to come to me... damn. I mean, I suspected, but 4 of my boys? I gots nothin’ against it, but I don’t like that it ain’t safe.

“Yeah... wait, 4?”

“My advice is good, kid. Ro’s got himself a boyfriend. And for you... it’s Blink, ain’t it?”

“How did you—“

“Mush, buddy, ya ain’t as subtle as ya think you are. And trust me; Blink ain’t soft with anyone, but he is with you. He likes you, too. Gettin’ him ain’t gonna be hard. All ya gotta do is be yourself and ask him out. Just pick somewhere that ain’t too obvious as a date spot so nobody suspects. Unfortunately, lovin’ other boys is dangerous, and I don’t wanna lose any of mine because the wrong people found out.”

“You won’t. I’ll be real careful. Thanks, Jack!”

“No problem, kiddo. Good luck!”

...

“Hey, Jojo, ya got a minute?”

“Yeah, why?”

“A couple of the fellas came to me, a bit worried about ya. I was just wonderin’ if you were okay.”

“Oh, no, I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong.”

“Jojo, I’s heard a lot of lies in my day from a lot of liars. And you’s honestly got to be the worst liar I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s fine, Jack. I can handle it.”

“Mike said you freaked out and went to a bad place just cause he startled you. What’s that about?”

“He saw me writin’ with my left hand, okay? It’s fine. I just forgot what I was doin’ and didn’t mean to use it, but—“

“What’s wrong with usin’ your left hand?”

“It’s wrong. I’ll go to hell because of it.”

“Who told ya that?”

“The nuns.”

“Jo... can you control it? Usin’ your left?”

“No. Why does that—“

“If you can’t control it, ain’t doin’ it on purpose and ain’t hurtin’ anyone by doin’ it, why is it wrong?”

“‘Cause...”

“Look, nuns say a lot of things, and most of ‘em mean well. But they’re learnin’ from a book written a long time ago. Times change. And look—Mush writes with his left. Do ya think he’s goin’ to hell?”

“...no.”

“There ya go. You’re fine just the way you are. Okay? Don’t let no one tell ya different. Need a hug?”

“A hug sounds nice.”

“Come here, kid.”

...

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, please don’t—“

“Finch, calm down. You’re in the Manhattan Lodging House. You’re okay. You’re safe. Shh. Nobody’s gonna hurt ya here.”

“Are-are ya sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. Your folks ain’t gonna find ya here, and if they do, I won’t let ‘em get to you.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. Shh. It’s okay. I’m not goin’ anywhere. I’ll protect you, okay? You believe me?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Good. Hush, now. Get some sleep.”

...

“Hey, Jack. You awake?”

“Well, I am now.”

“Sorry... do ya really think we can win this? I mean... that Plumber woman is right. We really are just a gang of kids.”

“Hey. We’re a gang of kids with the wit and will to pull this off. We got a reporter willin’ to listen to us. And sure, she’s a girl, but...”

“That’s more than we’ve ever had before.”

“Exactly. We’ll be fine, Crutchie. Don’t you worry ‘bout it.”

“We’ve never had someone like Davey Jacobs, either.”

“We sure haven’t! He’s somethin’ else, ain’t he?”

“Yeah, but... what if Finch is right and the cops come bust our heads?”

“Then I’ll be there takin’ the first hit.”

“Jack—“

“What I mean is, I ain’t gonna let him get to you or any of the rest of the fellas. Don’t worry.”

“I didn’t say anything about him, Jack.”

“Who said anything about him? There’s no ‘him.’”

“Jack, we both know more likely than not, he shows up. Are you gonna be okay?”

“It’ll be fine, Crutchie. I’ll be fine and so will everyone else.”

“That seems like a promise ya shouldn’t—“

“Goodnight, Crutchie. Go to sleep.”

...

“Whoa, Race are you—“

“I’m fine, Jack.”

“Pretty nasty shiner you’ve got, there, so I’d argue that you’re not, but that ain’t why I’m askin’. I know you, Race. I can tell when your smile is faked, and honestly, it is a lot more than it should be, but—“

“Spot didn’t come.”

“What?”

“I thought he’d come for us! I thought he’d show up at the last minute to save us but then he didn’t and he just—“

“Whoa, whoa, slow down, Race. Slow down and tell me what’s wrong.”

“Spot Conlon and me... ya know we’re close, right?”

“Yeah, of course I know you’re—oh. Oh. Okay.”

“What? What’s oh?”

“Ya could’ve told me. I mean, I gots a bunch of queer pairs I’ve been helpin’ sneak around.”

“Spot and me ain’t—“

“Save it, Racer. I think we both know that ain’t true.”

“I... you’re really fine with it?”

“Sure. I don’t care who ya fool around with, long as nobody finds out ‘bout ya foolin’ around with boys.”

“No, Jack, ya don’t get it!”

“What don’t I get? What’s this about, Racer?”

“It’s not just foolin’ around! I... Jack, I think I...”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize... I didn’t think Spot Conlon had feelings.”

“That’s the problem, Jack. I don’t know if he does. The problem is that I think... I think I love him. And he didn’t come for me.”

“Oh shit... the L word. Are you... are you sure?”

“I don’t know! I just know that he’s... I care about him like I care about you, but different! He makes me feel like... like I don’t even know what! Like I’m ramblin’ and he understands it all! Like he gets every part of me! And it is so stupid, but I think I get him, too! Or at least I did! Cause I was sure he was coming, and then he didn’t.”

“I’m guessin’ Davey didn’t tell ya yet.”

“Tell me what?”

“Spot sent over a kid to say he’s comin’ next time, so... I guess your boy is comin’ for ya.”

“...yeah. I guess he is.”

“I guess you’ll get a chance to see if he feels the same, but... Hey, listen. I gotta go, okay? I got a man to see. Do ya need me to stay for a bit?”

“Nah, it’s... it’s fine. Thanks, Jack.”

...

“Hey, Jack, ya got a minute?”

“Oh, sure, Mike. Davey, mind if I step away for a second?”

“Is this something that needs to be a secret?”

“No. No, it ain’t a secret. It’s just... Ike didn’t come in tonight, and I knows he ain’t in the Refuge, cause the Refuge is gone, but what if he’s hurtin’ somewhere? He didn’t tell me he was gonna—“

“Mike, buddy, it’s okay. Calm down. We know where he is.”

“Ya do?”

“He came by and said he was gonna spend some time in Brooklyn.”

“Yeah, it’s late enough that he’s probably spending the night. I don’t know Spot Conlon that well, but he doesn’t seem like the type to let a kid walk all the way back here after dark.”

“He ain’t—you’re right. Look, if he don’t come to the circulation gate tomorrow, then we’ll worry. For now, Ike’s almost certainly fine.”

“You’d think he’d remember to tell his brother when he goes places. That shithead.”

“Language!”

“Davey, everybody curses ‘round here. Includin’ you, come to think of it.”

“I know, but... damn. I’m becoming my mother.”

...

“Jack... can we talk? Alone?”

“Sure, Kath. What’s up?”

“There’s no good way to say this... we need to end this. You and me.”

“...what?”

“Jack, I’m sorry, but... I don’t love you. Not like that. You’re a wonderful friend—don’t get me wrong—but I don’t love you. I never did. I just didn’t realize it because besides Bill and Darcy, I’ve never really had any friends. You were the first friend I’ve made in a long time, and... and now that I’ve gotten some time to be better friends with the others, I’m realizing that what we had was never real.”

“It wasn’t?”

“No. I... I guess I was attracted to you, at first, but that faded without me realizing it a long time ago. And I know saying this is hurting you, but... Jack, it wouldn’t be fair to either of us for me to pretend I still want to be with you when I don’t. The fact is, neither of us is what the other really needs. And honestly, I don’t think you ever really loved me, either, and... and if you’re with me, you won’t find that person out there who you will love. I have no doubt that you’ll find someone to love who loves you the way you deserve, Jack.”

“Don’t worry about it, Kath.”

“I really am so sorry. I hope we can still be friends.”

“We can be. Don’t worry about it.”

...

“Hey, Jack? Wait, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Buttons. What is it?”

“It’s nothin’. I can go ask Davey.”

“Ask Davey what?”

“Jack, it’s nothin’ you need to worry ‘bout. You’re clearly not doin’ so well due to the breakup, and—“

“I’m fine, Buttons! Seriously! What is it?”

“It’s just... I didn’t earn enough today to buy my papes tomorrow. Ya know—winter is rough on everyone. I was gonna ask ya to ask around if anyone can spare anythin’, but I can go ask—“

“Ya don’t have to ask Davey. I’ll do it.”

...

“Shh, shh, kid, it’s okay. You’re safe. Everything’s gonna be okay, okay? You’re okay. You’re safe, here.”

“Jack, what’s going on?”

“Oh, crap. I’m sorry, Dave. This is a crappy night for this to happen, bein’ your first night sleepin’ over at the Lodging House, but I can handle this. It’s okay. Go back to sleep.”

“Blink? Blink, are you okay?”

“He’s still... not really here. It’ll take some time for him to get back, but you don’t have to stay up. I can handle it by myself. Really, Davey.”

“That doesn’t mean you should have to. Blink, do you want me to leave?”

“...no.”

“Okay. Okay, I won’t. It’s okay, Blink. You’re safe. You’re in the Manhattan Lodging House. Me and Jack are right here, okay?”

“We’re both right here for you.”

...

“Specs, what the hell happened to you? Davey! Davey, get in here, and bring some bandages!”

“What’s wro—oh my God!”

“It ain’t the worst that’s happened, Jack, and you know it.”

“Yeah, that don’t mean I gotta like it. Was it..?”

“Some shitheads who didn’t like me bein’ darker-skinned than them? Yeah. I’ll survive, though.”

“You know how wrong that is, right Specs?”

“Well, obviously, Davey. I’m the one who got soaked.”

“Where are they?”

“Davey—“

“Where are they? I get enough shit for being Jewish that I know a bit of what he’s goin’ through, Jack. And people like that—“

“Gettin’ soaked by a bunch of guys bigger than you won’t solve nothin’, Davey. And believe me, that is all that’ll happen if you go after them.”

“Fine. At least stay in bed tomorrow and rest up. I’ll sell extra to make up you missing.”

“I’ll help. Romeo probably will, too.”

“Thanks, Jack. Thanks, Davey.”

“Thank us after we patch you up.”

...

“If ya tell anyone about this, Jackie Boy, you won’t live long enough to see me deny it.”

“Relax, Spot. I ain’t tellin’ anyone. How’d ya wind up with a dislocated shoulder, anyway?”

“That’s my business. Are ya gonna fix it or not?”

“Oh, I’m gonna. It’ll hurt less if it’s a surprise, though, so’s we gotta talk about somethin’ else. Um... so, you and Racer?”

“...yeah, I guess.”

“That is so weird to think about. I never would have seen that one coming. I don’t need to tell you that if ya hurt him, Manhattan’ll go to war, right?”

“I ain’t gonna hurt him.”

“You’d better not.”

“I’m serious. I ain’t gonna—ah!”

“There. Your shoulder’s fixed. You’re welcome. And... you’s got real feelins’ for Race, don’t ya?”

“...maybe.”

“Good. Cause I‘s known Race a long time, and he fakes half his smiles. But the ones he gets when he talks to me ‘bout you are always real. He’s got it bad for ya, Conlon. You’d better not break him.”

“I won’t. Ever. Cause... cause maybe I’ve got it bad for him, too. But if ya ever tell him or anyone else I told you that—“

“I know, I know. I’ll be dead by midnight. My lips are sealed.”

“They’d better be. So... you and Walkin’ Mouth?”

“What?!”

...

“Where did you learn to braid, Jack?”

“Well, it was a long time ago, but I did have a mother once upon a time, Sarah.”

“Oh my God, I’m so—“

“It’s fine. I don’t talk about her much, but she’s been gone long enough that it don’t hurt so much. And ya know, when Smalls first got here, she had this super long hair that she needed to keep out of the way, ‘fore she asked Crutchie to cut it. Somebody had to help her.”

“Oh. That’s nice of you.”

“So, Sarah...”

“Jack?”

“I was wonderin’... I ran into Spot Conlon a while back, and he mentioned some things about... do Davey and me act like we’s together?”

“You’re kidding me.”

“No..?”

“I thought you were together! I just assumed Davey wasn’t telling me about it because... well, you know.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to be together? With Davey?”

“...I don’t know.”

“Well, I’d suggest figuring that out, cause David’s always had a stick up his ass, and I’ve never seen him relax the way he does with you. You make him feel free to be... Davey.”

“You’re sayin’ he wants to be with me?!”

“God, Kelly. You really are oblivious. Yes, you stupid cowboy. So finish this braid and go get him.”

...

“Jackie, can you sit down? Please?”

“I can’t, Davey. I gotta—“

“Everyone’s accounted for. Well, except Race, but Jojo said he saw him headed towards Brooklyn earlier. He’s probably spending the night and forgot to tell us.”

“The dishes—“

“It was Romeo’s turn and I made sure he did ‘em hours ago.”

“Specs—“

“I checked his ribs again this afternoon and he’s healing fine. Everyone’s fine, Jackie. Sit down.”

“...thanks, Davey.”

“You’re welcome. I think you forget sometimes that everybody needs somebody to lean on occasionally, even you.”

“I ain’t been leanin’ on anyone since I was... since I started leadin’ Manhattan.”

“And everyone leans on you. I know. You like knowin’ they’re all safe and happy, but who makes sure you’re safe and happy? Nobody—that’s the answer, so don’t try to argue it. So I guess it’s gotta be me. If no one else, I guess I’m the one you can lean on.”

#newsies #javid #javey #david jacobs #jack kelly #dad friend jack kelly #big brother jack kelly #background spromeo #background sprace #background blush #violet’s writing

[somewhat-crazy]

I would like to ask for a mash-up.

What I look like:

I have light-brown hair, that go about five inches over my chest, a bang and heaven-blue eyes.

Other facial features:

Thinn, frameless glasses, kept in the colors of black and white.

Body size:

As much as I hate to admit it, I am what people might call "fluffy".

Gender:

Female

Age:

21 years old. (Almost.)

Sexuality:

Straight with a thing for intelligence.

Personality type:

INFJ-T

Favorite music:

Classical music.

Favorite color/contrast:

White and blue.

Favorite animals:

My top three:

1. Spiders

2. Praying mantis

3. Dragonflies

Hobbys:

1. Drawing

2. Writing

3. Crafting

4. Occasionally sewing

5. Gardening

6. Singing

7. Acting

8. Studying

9. Hiking/Camping

10. Taking care of animals/Do researnch on animals in order to learn more about them

Things I like:

* Spiders/Bugs (No. Spiders are not bugs.), Peace and quiet, Intelligent people, Languages, Things being in order and going according to plan, Animals in general, The forest, Explaining things, that are exciting to me, science like physics, chemistry and biology, psychology, sociology, anatomy, music,

Things I dislike:

Rude people, loud people, dumb people, stress and fighting, techno music and any kind of rap music, my pencil order being messed up, chaos, Boredom

Things I hate with a burning passion:

Demons, anything hell-related, demons, My work being messed up, demons, being ripped out of my train of thought, demons, Misplacing my glasses, demons, being late, demons, people being late, demons, people, who torture animals, especially spiders, demons, fould soul-scents, demons, People who demand me to instantly open up to them, did I already mention that I hate demons with a burning passion ???

Backstory:

I had a rough and rather traumatizing childhood, which caused 14 years of full-blown panic attacks.

Luckily I got out of them by now, even if there are still a few triggers, where I have to be careful

.

Strengths:

1. I have a good eye for the minimal details.

2. I can focus on a task on hand for hours.

3. I am able to be independent.

4. I am intelligent/Creative.

5. I am determined to get something, if I want it.

6. I have no tendencies to get physically harmful and I have no tendency to get angry, since doing that, and also the emotion in itself is a waste of time and energy, that could be used to be productive.

7. I am always thirty for knowledge and I am a quick learner.

Flaws:

1. I take far too much time to open up.

2. I am often cold and distant.

3. I am a perfectionist

4. I am very mistrusting or shy.

5. I tend to not care for my "friendships" or about people in general, because I see people's flaws apon the first look or at least tend to do so.

6. I tend to take some things too personal or be overly sensitive sometimes.

7. I have insanely high expectations towards others and I build up my walls so high, that barely anyone can claim over them.

Personality:

How others describe me :

1. Polite.

2. Overly quiet.

3. Slow to anger.

4. Intelligent/Smartass/Nerd/Geek.

5. Patient.

6: Sweet.

7. Caring.

8. Different from the rest.

How I see myself:

1. You may laugh or say, that I am crazy, but due to something the bible calls "gift of telling the spirits apart" (Yes, I am a christian and I love it.) and my natural empathic, observing nature of an INFJ-personality type, I am able to often know things about people that I am not supposed to know and reading people is the most easiest thing for me to do. I may not necessarily say, that I have feelings of myself, but I am able to copy the feelings and expressions of others quite well.

For those, who know black butler, I know very well, what it means, if Sebastian is taling about the scent of souls, since I am capable of smelling it too.

2. I am a mix of the empath-INFJ and the sigma-INFJ.

Anger me and I may become a so called "dark empath", if you keep it up long enough.

(I've made one of my bullies cry her eyes out by just using a few simple words.)

3. I like to keep to myself and have plenty of alone-time, due to me being naturally introverted and quite preserved.

4. I am very analytical and tend to analyze just about everything that comes in front of my nose or in my sight. That is also caused by trust issues and a few traumatizing events in my past.

5. If a person earns the right of being let inside by me/the right to call themselves my friend, I tend to become warmer step by step/become rather caring and protective of that person.

That person gets my full attention and I dedicate a lot of time to them.

If they should hurt me though, I doorslam them and they never will get close to me again.

Since those things, I've written down here are very personal and usually very private information about myself, I have allowed myself to stay anonymous to grand myself a little bit to safety.

Thank you in advance for writing this.

Goodbye.

okay but can i just say that you sound really cool 🥺 also rq are closed rn but i really wanted to write this, so i did. since you gave me a lot of info, i was able to write this a bit longer ^^ at first i really thought you matched with EJ until i got to the demon part,,, then it was like oh well we can find someone else haha. also (ik this is a super long note), but you're the only person i've interacted thus far on my blog that's a christian, so hey! im not baptized or anything, but i try to keep my blog family and christian-friendly :3 since i wasn't sure what denomination you're from, i didn't talk about religion too much

I match you with: Helen / The Bloody Painter

(under the cut bc its pretty long)

im honestly really really intimidated by the two of you

you're both very private/reserved people, so most of the time you two spend time in more quiet and calm places

some people might not even know that you two were dating until you said it explicitly because you just never mentioned it before

he absolutely loves how much he understands you because of how similar the two of you are

it took quite a while for the two of you to warm up to each other, but once you did, it was pretty smooth sailing

he doesn't mind your religion whatsoever; he was raised Catholic and is loosely Christian, although isn't baptized and doesn't go to church much

he absolutely loves doing any sort of work with you; you guys work well together and get a lot done in short periods of time

honestly just finds you fascinating. the way you carry yourself, your preferences and hobbies, your creativity and diligence; every single day he learns something new about you, and he loves it

you two learn a lot together; many long nights of reading or pouring over new information, analyzing data and researching things

although he might never say it out loud, he actually thinks that you're really cute; he loves your eyes and gets lost in them a lot. if you ever call yourself "fluffy", get ready for a 20-minute lecture about how you're beautiful and perfect the way you are and that's that

loooves drawing with you and gets you a lot of art-related gifts (although he doesn't mind doing any of your other hobbies with you ^^)

he also likes insects/bugs and spiders, and is happy that finally he found someone else who isn't grossed out by them he actually has a pet tarantula named Ekii 👀 so hopefully you like tarantulas haha

won't ever force you to open up about things, especially if it's about your past or anything triggering for you

you'll probably have to get used to hanging out with Puppeteer a lot as well-- I promise, he sort of gets better the more you get to know him (emphasis on 'sort of')

he draws you a lot and would be really touched (although he wouldn't say so) if you did the same to him

he's really interested in your empath abilities and how that works. asks a lot of clarifying questions and soaks all of the new information up

since Helen is also a bit of a perfectionist, he understands and tries to get you to be a bit easier on yourself will literally force you to stop working and go take a walk if he needs to

speaking of which-- nature walks, hikes, camping, he loves the forest too!!

although he listens to a lot of different styles, he's glad that at least once person enjoys classical music as well; he likes turning it on quietly in the background while he works :3

to make a long story short; he absolutely loves and adores you, especially since he can understand you so well although he's not an empath, he understands your emotions very well and would do anything for you ^^ <3

#creepypasta #creepypasta matchups #helen otis #creepypasta x reader

[sergeant-angels-trashcan]

Hiii!!! I have a question that i'd love if you could answer, but no pressure! Do you have any tips on writing Kate? or more specifically, are there any things that you keep in mind when you're writing her? just any kind of advice you feel like sharing for someone writing her :) (((ik that every writer is different in their interpretations of characters in fics, etc, but i'd really love to hear any thoughts you'd be willing to share!))) <3

This is an incredibly flattering ask, first of all, so thank you! also this got hmmm very long so i apologize. the adderall wore off and now the gremlins in my brain are knocking everything off the shelves in search of dopamine

And it seems like you already know this, but I’ll say it anyway: your mileage may vary. My interpretation of Kate is really personal, and I have often, knowingly or unknowingly, used writing Kate to work through some of my own traumas. so like, advice number one, feel free to work through trauma via Kate Bishop

keeping that in mind, here are the four things I keep in mind when writing kate:

her trauma

Kate’s been through a lot of shit. For me, focusing on this was a way to work through my own trauma and mental health issues, but even if that’s not your jam, it’s still something to keep in mind. She’s survived rape, her mom has died, her dad tried to kill her AND she found out he was a lying douchebag, she’s been a government fugitive twice, she’s seen her best friend die in front of her, she’s been hit by a car. So there’s a lot of mental health stuff and physical health stuff. I have depression and PTSD and anxiety and panic attacks and dad issues, so that’s something easy for me to focus on that also is supported by the text. Don’t be afraid to lean into a mental health thing, or the fact that she has also canonically gone to therapy. I like that combo when writing about Kate—that she deals with a lot of trauma baggage, but she’s also works through it

The physical trauma stuff also helps when remembering that she’s a soft squishy human unlike a lot of the people she hangs around with. It’s easy for me to imagine she’s got a bum knee or chronic pain issues. I’ve written concussion stuff specifically because I remember having post-concussion syndrome and it made sense that she would have it, too? Though now that I’m thinking about it, the physical issues from avengering is an idea I’m going to have to revist while leaning more into “what if kate couldn’t do archery because of an injury” because that taps into some issues I’m still coming to terms with!!

But basically, going through all of that—even just some of that!--impacts how you view yourself, how you move in the world, how you relate to other people, etc. she’s been through a lot! 

her age

this is probably where I differ from a lot of other kate writers and again, it’s probably just personal? Because lbr I project HARDCORE on to Kate, so seeing her as “my age” is kinda my go-to. I love the idea of teenage superheroes growing up and having to adult. And mentoring younger superheroes. And getting mad at the avengers for doing a TERRIBLE job of it.

dueling headcanons aside, keep in mind that Kate is young in relation to the Avengers, but old in relation to her team. For me, the age differences between her and her team influence how Kate sees herself as a leader/role model/etc. In the comics, it seems like Kate does better taking care of herself when she has other people to take care of or set a team-leader-y example for. If she’s on her own she is literally getting hit by cars and committing arson.

(Since we’re here tho I do think of the Young Avengers as Millennials, and for me that’s a very important part of the whys of them becoming superheroes. Because—stick with me here—based on their ages when they first showed up they all would have been….what, in like 3-7th grade on 9/11? Obviously I don’t know how old you are, or if you remember/were alive for 9/11 and the aftermath, but I can’t imagine that not influencing their desire to become superheroes, even if they don’t realize it themselves.) 

However you see Kate’s age, it’s important to think about how it influences how other people see her and how she sees herself within her team.

her team!

who kate is with a team and who she is without a team are VERY different things. if she’s with the Young Avengers for most of your story or working solo might affect how...for lack of a better phrase...how much of an on fire garbage can she is.

Kate loves her people. How does she relate to them? Who is she closest to? Why does she date people on her team? Is that a good idea?

For me, Kate and Eli’s relationship is always important, even if it doesn’t make it on screen, so to speak. That they both led the team, that he quit, that they dated—how do they relate to one another? Are they friends? Awkward exes? Are they working together?

Is the team on hiatus? Do they have a group chat? Is Kate everyone’s emergency contact? How much does she confide in them, or does she feel the need to be the Strong Team Leader at all times? How does that impact her friendships? How did losing Cassie affect her leadership style?

These are her friends! How do they impact her life?

she’s a badass

this might seem like a given, but seriously, kate is a total badass. She can dance and fence, she knows how to use swords and batons, she’s super strong and swole. She has canonically committed arson. I think it’s canon she has a photographic memory? She’s a small business owner. She loves explosives and military grade weapons thanks to Deadpool, who, canonically, thinks she is awesome. She’s good schmoozing, she’s good with people in general. She has a nemesis! She’s the captain of a spaceship! Kate Bishop is cool!!!!!!! even if she doesn’t know it. or act it. she’s awesome.

Other things to keep in mind:

Lots of people play with Kate’s race. What if she’s white? What if she’s Jewish? What if she’s Eastern European? What if she’s white and Japanese and Navajo? What does that say about her family? What was growing up like? How does being not-quite-white or white-but-the-wrong-kind-of-white or white-but-not-really change how she moves in the world? (for the record, I usually see Derek as run-of-the-mill white dude, so how does that impact her? How does that change the relationship he had with her mother?) I don’t always, and I don’t have the experience to do those stories justice a lot of the times, but I think race and religion are important to consider a bit when writing Kate. 

(particularly with the current US political climate, and who her friends are, it’s just really interesting to think about. Like, you KNOW Kate is at a BLM protest kicking a canister of tear gas back at the cops and literally putting her body between David and the pr*ud boys or whatever.)

Also? Kate has opposed registration of superheroes twice now. You could definitely lean into that and her political activism potential.

Kate has a sister.

Kate is sex-positive

Clint is a very important part of her life

She knows how to commit arson and blow stuff up, can probably speak several languages, is flexible and strong and VERY SMART and also somehow can’t figure out how to illegally download music. She’s a wonderful combo of intelligence and dumbassery. Don’t feel like you have to make her all one or the other!

Don’t feel like she needs to be straight. Or cis.

and of course, write the story you want to, or need to. I think Kate’s really great for that--she’s got the potential to be a lot of things to a lot of different people. what do you need her to be?

I hope this was informative and useful! i have no idea if it actually will be, or if it’s too much...me? let me know! and thank you for the ask!

#you've got questions i've got answers #kate bishop #young avengers #hawkeye #my stuff #writing advice #i'm honestly so flattered by this ask #and my answer is legit just 'i wrote out my trauma and it happened to work with kate's' #me: i had a flashback real bad today so guess what you get to have kate??!! #Anonymous

[booklovingturtle]

A Sweet Suli Spice (Kanej GVBB)

A/N: AH I can’t believe the time has finally come for me to share this with you all! I had so much fun working on this in the midst of the worst and most stressful semester of my life!

Shout out to my gang, Spice of Life, for making this so much fun bc they are all so talented and easy to work with! The Corporalki both understood my writing which made the revising/editing process really smooth. They made sure the fic you’re about to read is actually understandable. They read this more than once and in the midst of their own crazy lives which I will never not be thankfull for. The Materialki are ridiculously talented. You HAVE to click their links to check out their work. I know they all worked really hard on them and it totally paid off.

Also big thank you to @grishaversebigbang​ for hosting this and being a terrifying yet wonderful Master of Tides.

Please feel free to comment, reblog, or message me your reactions to this! It’s the first super long pic that I’ve ever written and I’m really proud of it. Okay enough rambling…ik y’all just want the fic!

Corporalki: @ninxszenik , @ethereal-magia

Materialki: @theartistwitch  @wavesofinkdrops @xan-drei

Masterlist: Don’t have an Ao3 but I do have a master list of all my fics.

Summary: Inej Ghafa hasn’t seen her family in four years. Not since she’s been taken. Now that it’s been so long since she’s seen them, Inej is scared and nervous to go back. One night, while sitting on the rooftop, Kaz asks her to teach him Suli. That inspires Inej to fight her nerves and finally find her family. She asks Kaz to go home with her and he takes this opportunity to learn more about her and her people. Once home, Inej is faced with a guilt of her past, the fear of family’s reactions, and the hope of finally being ghar (home).

The heart of Suli culture flowed with spice-flavored blood and beat to the sound of performance drums. It hummed through Inej’s body every time she whispered her native language to herself under Tante Heleen’s ring-clad fist. She stored the precious words so deep inside of her that she feared the garbled sounds of Kerch would drown out their melodious syllables.

Once she was under the employment of the Dregs, she would practice Suli as often as she could. Some nights she would stare into the mirror, barely recognizing the woman in front of her as she spoke in Suli to herself. She would even write letters to her family in the beautiful script they had taught her. Those letters were always burned before the ink could dry. The content didn’t matter to her. She didn’t write them for the sake of filling a paper with impossible hopes and dreams. She wrote them because she feared losing her mother tongue. It was an irrational fear that she had never been able to vocalize to anyone before. Well, at least before Kaz came into the picture. He had asked her one night if she could teach him Suli and noticed, as he always did, the change in her face at the mention of it.

“I understand if you don’t feel comfortable teaching me. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” Kaz reached out to place his hand on her leg.

Inej watched his pale, scarred knuckles rest on her knee. They had made their way up to the roof of the Crows Club, as they usually did when Inej was home. Whatever time wasn’t spent up there was used to carefully test the idea of being together.

“It’s not that I don’t feel comfortable. It’s that…” Inej’s words wandered away from her. She watched the way his thumb moved along the inside of her knee. It was such a small touch for someone else; for a different boy and a different girl that touch was meaningless. For them, it was everything.

“It’s okay. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.”

“No. I want to. I’ve spent so many years away from Ravka and most of my people. I only ever get to speak Suli when I’m working with the Dregs or helping people escape a sinking slave ship. For years, I was afraid that one day, I would wake up and forget the language entirely.”

“Is that possible?” His deep voice sounded raspy but soothing against the black night. “Not to lose it in one day, but for you to just forget Suli that easily?”

Inej nodded slowly. “I already have.” It broke her heart to admit it. “When I first arrived to Ketterdam, everything came to me in Suli. Dreams, thoughts, speech. I had to learn to filter my words into Kerch. Now I find that more and more of my thoughts and dreams come in Kerch than they do in Suli.”

Kaz was silent for a few heartbeats. Inej felt as if she had stripped herself bare in front of the entire Barrel. It was odd to feel that way around Kaz now. He had seen and touched parts of her that no one else was ever given permission to. Kaz knew her like no other person could, yet this was a part of her she hadn’t accepted about herself, let alone explained to him. There was an intimacy that came with talking about her culture that made her feel exposed.

“The language is not the only thing that ties you to the culture, Inej. You will always be Suli as long as you carry it in your heart.”

Tears surprised Inej by burning the back of her eyelids. “Come home with me,” she spoke through the lump in her throat.

He looked taken aback. “Home? You mean Ravka?”

She nodded. Inej had felt confident the first time she asked the question, but the way Kaz was looking at her now made her doubt her request.

“Yes. To Ravka. To my family. I-I’ve been thinking about going back for a while now. I even asked Nina for her help in tracking my family down.”

“I didn’t know that,” Kaz’s eyebrows came together in a way that meant he was already calculating things. She recognized that look: scheming face.

“You may be Dirtyhands on this island, Brekker, but that doesn’t mean you’re privy to everything east of Kerch.”

Kaz grinned wickedly. “Maybe not east, but we all know that I was able to conquer the North quite easily.” This was also a new side of Kaz that she had gotten to know over the last few months: one that was playful without an edge of cruelty attached to it. The air around them changed and Inej no longer felt the sadness that usually came with thinking about home.

“We conquered the Ice Court together. With the help of some friends, which you had to beg for help from, if I remember correctly.”

Kaz looked appalled. “I never begged.”

“So you admit that you did need our help.”

“Need is a strong word, Inej. The only things I need in this world are food, air, and you.”

It was her turn to look speechless. Kaz was rarely ever so direct with her about his feelings for her. She knew, of course, that he cared for her as she did for him. It was one thing, however, for her to know it and another for him to be so forward about it.

“And because I need you, Inej, my answer is yes. I want to go to Ravka with you. I want to go everywhere and anywhere with you. We’ll conquer the world together if that’s what you want. I want to be wherever you need me to be.”

Kaz’s words echoed in her head. She would hear them every time she thought of home. Her real home. Thanks to Nina’s help, Inej was sailing to Ravka within months with Kaz by her side.

The Wraith soared through the water and, in what felt like one night’s rest, Inej’s crew was docking The Wraith in Os Kervo’s main dock. From the stern of her ship, Inej could hear the sound of her crew talking and moving. The water lapped against the underside of her ship, gently rocking her reflection back and forth.

Inej prayed in Suli as she strapped Sankt Petyr and Sankta Alina to her forearms. She tried to quell the anxious shake of her hands while Sankta Marya and Anastasia were readjusted on her thighs. Sankt Vladimir fit snugly into her boot, making Inej wonder what her mother would say at the sight of her in Fabrikator-made boots, not Suli slippers. Sankta Lizabeta with her rose-engraved handle sat at her belt, hidden under the folds of her black Suli wrap.

When not in front of a roaring crowd, the Suli were a reserved people. Despite Tante Heleen’s disgusting portrayal of her culture, Inej still loved the vibrant colors of Suli dupattas and embroidered kurtas. When she felt the jerk of the anchor settling into place, Inej realized how long it had been since she dressed in chiffon and silk. She didn’t recognize the Suli woman staring in the mirror staring back at her. For one, the sleeves were tailored to be much longer than she would have normally needed during Ravkan summers. However, she didn’t want anyone to see the network of scars that decorated her skin from years of violence. The second thing that threw off her reflection was the way she’d styled her hair. Though she performed with her hair in a braided coil, Inej knew her mother loved it best when it was wild and loose. Finally, the last time she had seen herself like this was when she was still an innocent girl who yearned to grow into a talented acrobat.

Inej was now so fundamentally different from that child. If anything, the dupatta she was wearing felt like a costume.

Knocking forced her to turn away from her damned reflection.

“Adara aaen,” Inej called out, already knowing who it would be before he stepped into the room.

“I assume that means ‘come in,’” Kaz’s slim figure filled her doorway. He was dressed in an inmanulate suit as usual, gloved hands resting on top of his crow’s head cane and a smirk on his face.

“What?” Inej hadn’t realized the words had come out in Suli instead of Kerch. It was rare for her to mix the languages up like that. The fact that it had even happened spoke of her nerves. “I’m sorry. I’ve been trying to translate everything into Suli to get some last minute practice.”

Kaz’s arrogant look slipped and he shook his head. “No need to apologize. I love hearing you speak Suli.”

Inej forced a smile to her face. “If the Saints allow it, soon that’s all you're going to hear.” She looked out the port window, watching the lazy rays of sun dance along the sky. Somehow the Ravkan sky seemed to shine brighter than the Kerch one.

“Don’t slip away from me,” Kaz prompted her gently. She realized that she had started to float off into her own thoughts, something she’d found herself doing more and more the closer they’d gotten to shore.

“Are you ready?”

“No. But I don’t think I ever will be.”

“We don’t have to do this, not if you don’t want us to. I’ll go and ask Getz to take The Wraith right back if you’ve changed your mind, or we can take a trip to Nina’s instead. Whatever you want to do, I'll be here for you.”

Inej shook her head. “I might be terrified, but I want to do this. I just feel out of place in a Suli outfit after not having worn one in so long.” Her fingers pulled at one of the tightly knitted seams.

Kaz leaned his cane against the wall, closing the door behind him. He went up to Inej and turned her to face the mirror. “I don’t think your parents will be any less happy to see you if you wore a dupatta or a kefta or a sack. They’ll be too excited to see you.” Kaz’s arms wrapped around her waist and he pulled her body into his. Inej felt his warm, solid chest against her back. She inhaled his calming smell, grateful for his presence.

“In Suli, we have a saying for people who have betrayed their kind, who have disgraced them or turned their back on them. Kadema mehim. It’s the worst sort of punishment you could receive for your actions.” She shuddered at the thought of ever hearing those words said to her. Inej herself had only ever used them once.

“I am not the same little girl who was taken from them. They might realize that and see me as forsaken. As someone who has turned away from the Saints.”

Kaz brushed her hair off to one side to rest his head on her shoulder. Kaz’s reflection towered over Inej’s own in the mirror. His sable eyes looked stubborn and unwaveringly serious. “You are many things, Inej, but a traitor is not one of them. It’s true that you are not the same girl you were when they knew you. But they will see that you grew into a brave, strong woman who will stop at nothing to do what is right for the people she loves.

“They will see that you have fought against all the odds and have become an unstoppable force that they should feel blessed to have in their lives. They will love you, Inej. It is impossible for them to not love you.”

This time she didn’t stop the tears that slid down her cheeks. She took a shuddering breath and placed a hand against his jaw. The sharp line was lined with light stubble, but that didn’t stop her from running a finger against its curve. Her fingers traced the scar beneath the right edge of jaw, thinking about the other scars that peppered his skin. Many of those scars earned alongside her.

“They will love you, too, Kaz.” Inej knew that he was almost as nervous as she was to meet her family, though he would never voice it out loud.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” He kissed her cheek and pulled away. “They might think of me as the man who corrupted their daughter.”

She shook her head. “No, they will think of you as the man who has made their daughter too happy to put into words.”

Kaz stared at his gloves, refusing to make eye contact. “Will they? Have I?”

It was her turn to reach out to him. Inej wrapped her hands around his neck. “Yes and yes. You have made their daughter happier than she ever thought possible.”

Kaz’s hands tentatively grabbed her waist. His eyes were on her lips but he didn’t move. Not until she did. Inej leaned up, catching his mouth with hers. The sounds of the crew and the ocean were replaced by the sound of her heart in her chest. Kaz was always gentle with her. His kisses were soft like the petals of spring and sweet like caramel. He held her like there was nothing that could ever separate them.

Inej sighed, melting into his every touch. It was impossible to feel anxious or scared in his arms. His fingers pressed into her silk wrap and Inej released a gasp. Kaz took that opportunity to take everything she gave him. Her skin suddenly burned. The sweetness was still there, dancing with a fiery spice that surprised her. They had rarely ever held each other this long without the waters swallowing him up.

His hands buried themselves in her long hair. Inej reached into his jacket, feeling the muscles beneath his white shirt. Kaz then broke away, breathing hard and shuddering. His face was flushed and his lips looked deliciously swollen.

Inej, realizing what they had done, began to apologize for having been too forward.

“No. It wasn’t you. Believe me, it wasn’t that.” Kaz shook his head, gloved hands holding hers against his chest.

“But if it wasn’t...why did you stop?” Inej could feel a blush spreading across her cheeks.

“I really didn’t want to,” Kaz’s gaze made goosebumps dance across her skin. “But we need to leave soon if we want to make it to Ivets before dark. And to be quite honest with you, Wraith, I’m not sure how far we would have gone this time. I really didn’t want to stop.”

Inej laughed. “Neither did I. It’s okay. We’ll have time another day. We have the rest of our lives to do that and so much more.”

“Captain,” Getz called from outside her door. “The crew’s settled and waiting for your orders.”

“Duty calls, Wraith.” Kaz’s smile was as sharp as ever. He adjusted the tie she’d crinkled.

Inej pulled her shoulders back, stepped through the doorway and told her crew that they could do as they pleased for a few hours. Within the next hour, she and Kaz were on their way to Ivets, the city where Nina had informed Inej her family would be performing for the next week. Every road they passed brought her closer and closer to her family. Inej could hardly contain her excitement and nervousness. While passing a crowded marketplace, Inej almost barreled into a group of children running across the street.

“Whoa, Inej,” Kaz called as he held her back from stepping into the walkway. “Careful. I know you’re excited to see your family, but even I think it’s a little much to trample a few children along the way.”

“Could you imagine that after getting back to Ketterdam, the Wraith and Dirtyhands voyaged all the way to some unknown city in Ravka just to run over a few children?” she joked, though her voice wavered enough for Kaz to notice.

“When you put it like that...” Kaz’s eyes had the same spark in them that always appeared right before a job. “While that does sound tempting, I think my bloodthirsty reputation will survive despite having let them live.”

By sunset, Inej could hear the pounding of Suli drums. They had passed through the heart of Ivets’ main city before reaching the boundary of an open field. A golden tent heavily embroidered with thick swirls rose high over the clearing. Inej’s breath caught in her throat at the familiar sound of Suli folk music floating outside of its flowing entrance. Sweet curling smoke filled the air with the smell of fried dough, glazed fruits, and…

The smell of her family gatherings to celebrate the Saints. She envisioned her mother, kind and beautiful, carrying baskets full of fresh vegetables for dinner. Her father, strong and brave, chopping potatoes alongside his wife. Her cousins fighting over plates of food. Her aunts handing out sticky sweets. Her uncles setting up place settings.

The music reminded her of the first time she stood on a tightrope. The bottomless drop that yawned beneath her and the open sky that blanketed her. How it felt to be covered in performance glitter and to curl her hair to fall around her round cheeks. She remembered scrapping her hands on trees, trying to beat her cousins to the top. How it felt to look over the Ravkan landscape and see nothing but endless opportunities.

After years of darkness, years of bloodshed, years of the staccato sounds of Kerch, Inej Ghafa was finally home.

Home...and rooted to her spot at the edge of the circus grounds. Ravkans stood in line, waiting to be let into the performance tent; the same tent that she had spent countless days in during the early years of her life. A bronze-skinned man stepped out of the tent, dressed in loose fitted black pants and a thick, colorful coat. His voice was deep and stern as he hollered the rules of the performance out into the crowd of people.

Inej stared in wonder, unsure about who the man was. Chaacha Jilé was the one who used to tame the crowds before they entered the performance area. The man at the entrance was not her uncle.

“Hanzi,” the name came to her with a jolt.

Inej was suddenly flying. Or at least that’s what it felt like as the grass was crushed beneath her racing feet. One minute, she was standing beside Kaz and the next, she was running straight to her cousin, pushing through the crowd of guests until she stood at the very front.

“Hanzi,” she said again, this time facing the man whom she now recognized.

Her cousin’s words died on his lips and he froze, arms limp at his sides as looked at her. “Inej?”

A sob escaped her. She could hear the sound of the crowd’s confusion but she didn’t care.

“Hanzi,” was all that she could say.

His face broke into a smile. A roaring shout came from him as he yelled in Suli. “Inej! Inej is here! Masi Calla! Chaacha Baraz! Inej is home!”

Tears streamed down her face at the sound of her parents’ names: Calla and Baraz. Mama and Papa. Inej waited anxiously as the longest few seconds of her life passed. She could see from the sliver opening in the flaps a flurry of motion. She caught her name be repeated and questions thrown. Hanzi shouted again, tears in his own eyes.

Inej’s whole world froze as Mama and Papa came through the entrance. They stepped out, first looking at her cousin with an agonizing look of hope and confusion on their faces.

“Mama. Papa.”

They turned towards Inej as she called out to them. Her mother’s face was more wrinkled than it had been when she’d been taken. Her hair was still long and elegantly braided to the side. Her father’s beard was mixed with grays where it was once solid black. He was clutching his wife’s shoulder, eyes landing on his daughter for the first time in four years.

“Inej.” He didn’t say her name like Hanzi had. He said it with such certainty and conviction that it made Inej’s knees give out from under her.

Before her body could fully hit the ground, her parents’ arms were around her. She buried her face in her mother’s shoulder and wrapped an arm around her father’s waist.

“Esfir,” her mother whispered in her ear. Inej couldn’t describe the relief and joy that flooded through her at the word.

Esfir was Suli for ‘little star.’ Late at night, they used to tuck her under her covers with a kiss. Her mother used to say that Inej was her little star and her father would explain that she was their guiding light.

Inej didn’t know how long they sat in the damp grass, crying and hugging and whispering to each other.

“I’m home,” she would say.

“You’re home.” One of them would repeat.

“I prayed to all of the Saints that you would find your way home to us.” Her father said.

“They called us fools. Said that we would never see you again. They told us that you were taken too far for us to ever reach you again,” her mother cried.

“Never,” Inej promised. “I will never be too far to come back home. The heart is an arrow. It demands aim to land true. My heart is here.”

After some time, Inej realized that the rest of her family had come outside of the tent. Night had fallen and the crowd was now gone. Her older cousins looked as if Sankt Juris had come down to blow his blue flames. Disbelief filled their faces. Some of her younger cousins looked just as shocked, though less afraid of her. Inej also noticed the soft coos of the newest editions to her family. One toddler who must have born within the first year she was at the Menagerie. Two more who looked as though they came along while she was in service with the Dregs.

The Dregs. Kaz.

Inej pulled away from her parents, realizing who else she had forgotten about for the second time that night.

“Mama. Papa. I didn’t come here alone,” her words scratched against her throat. She hadn’t realized the tears had dried out her voice until that moment.

Inej turned around, knowing that Kaz would have waited as long as she needed him to. He still stood towards the edge of the trees. Inej called out to him in Kerch.

Kaz came forward, trying his best not to look like Dirtyhands under the cover of night with his crow’s head cane and thick gloves. Though he no longer needed them with her, Inej knew that he wasn’t ready to hug every member of her teary-eyed family.

Kaz stood beside her. Inej took his hand in hers and squeezed tightly.

“This is Kaz.” Inej had practiced this speech so many times in her head. She had carefully racked her brain for the proper words in Suli to say what she needed to say.

“Kaz and I...we have been through too many things together to explain in one night. Most of the last four years have been cruel and lonely. Kaz has been one of the few good things to come into my life since I was fourteen,” her words choked off. “I ask that you be kind to him and embrace him as a part of my life. He has saved it in many ways over the years. In some ways, it is thanks to him that I am here.”

Her father stood from where he was still crouched in the grass. He approached Kaz, looking more serious than Inej had ever seen him look in her life. He stood a few inches shorter than Kaz, but still managed to look down at him.

“Do you speak Suli?” Baraz asked him.

“No-” Inej was cut off by Kaz.

“Not fluently, but I am learning.” Kaz shocked her by responding in fluid Suli instead of Kerch. He gave her side-eyed look, clearly enjoying the shocked look on her face.

Her father nodded. “Then I can thank you properly. For helping my daughter return to us.”

Kaz bowed his head. “Inej is the wisest, most determined person I have ever met. She would have found her way back to you with or without me.”

Baraz laughed, “Esfir is just like her mother in that way. Nothing stands in the way of her and what she wants.”

Inej smiled in relief. “That is true. And right now, what I want is some stuffed peppers and goulash made the proper Suli way.”

Her mother laughed, standing to embrace Inej once again. “You can have whatever you would like, Inej.”

“My turn!” Hanzi called out from the cluster of cousins closest to her. Inej turned to find him now barreling towards her.

Inej froze for a second, not feeling entirely comfortable with the tight embrace. She tried her best to laugh through the rush of panic. It hadn’t even occurred to her until that moment how her homecoming would be full of physical touching that she wasn’t entirely ready for.

Her arms didn’t move from her sides, but at least she didn’t pull away until he did. Hanzi didn’t seem to register her tight shoulders.

“I can’t believe you’re really back, Inej! What took you so long? Adja has been driving me crazy. She thinks that she’s in charge now because she can do a handstand on the highwire, but now that you’re back, you can prove to her that you’re in charge. I even reminded her that you used to be able to do an entire double front routine on the high wire without a net.” While her older cousin may have gotten older, he still rambled half made up tales as though he hadn’t aged a day.

“I don’t even have the energy to explain how wrong that is,” Inej shook her head at her cousin’s infectious joy. Hanzi had always been one of her favorites because, no matter what, he could always tell some ridiculous story to make her laugh.

“First of all,” a female voice interjected, “I’ve been able to do a handstand on the high wire for years. Second, all I said was that you weren’t in charge, Hanzi.” Adja said from behind him. She was only two years younger than Inej, but she had been terrified of the high wire. While Inej had danced around it barefoot, Adja refused to step onto one.

“Come on, Nej. Remind Adja who the real master is!”

“No,” Calla stood in between her daughter and her nephew. “Inej has only been with us for a few minutes and already you are trying to get her in trouble,” her mother chided Hanzi.

Kaz chuckled from behind her. It was clear from his expression that, while he wasn’t able to understand all of their conversation, the sound of an upset mother seemed to be universally understood.

“Come, Esfir. We’re going to have a proper welcome dinner,” her mother nodded towards the rest of her family. “Disah and Remen, go to the Ivetan market…”

Inej allowed her mother to assign everyone their tasks while she looked back at Kaz. He was smiling, looking proud of her, but she couldn’t tell why.

“What?” she asked him in quiet Kerch.

“You didn’t pull away when he hugged you,” he truly looked proud of her. Inej looked towards Hanzi worriedly.

“No. I didn’t exactly hug him back.” It would have been a lie to act as though she wasn’t disappointed in her reaction to Hanzi’s embrace. It was an unexpected reality of what she had endured all those years ago. “Do you think they noticed?”

“He was too excited to have you back to notice,” Kaz shook his head. “That’s not the point. The point is that you didn’t pull away. It wasn’t easy, but you did it, Inej. You’re home and your family couldn’t be more happy to see you.”

She took a deep breath. She hadn’t even realized that her nervousness had started to creep up on her after Hanzi’s hug until now. For a while there, she had forgotten about all of her anxieties. Now that her family had split itself into their roles to prepare for her homecoming diner, she had a quiet moment to be reminded of them.

That was when Kaz, ever supportive and aware of how she was feeling, stepped in to ease her nerves. “Kaz, do you think I should tell them the truth?”

“You don’t owe anyone any explanations. You tell them as much as you want to. It’s your story to tell.”

Inej had known long before that night on the rooftop that she was in love with Kaz. She had known for quite some time. As she stared into his honest eyes, surrounded by the sounds of her family, Inej was reminded of how deep her love for Kaz Brekker went.

“What did I ever do for the Saints to bless me with you,” she wondered out loud.

It was hard to tell with the pale moonlight as her only source of light, but for a moment, Inej thought that she saw Kaz’s face blush. His gaze left her and landed on the starry Ravkan sky.

“I ask myself the same question about you every day that we are together, Inej.”

“Nej!” Adja yelled from the performance tent. “Masi Calla asked me to help you and your...friend...find new clothes.”

Inej looked down at her Suli dupatta. “What’s wrong with what we have on now?”

Adja eyed the Wraith and Dirtyhands with pursed lips. “You both look as though you’re going to a funeral. Tonight is a party, Nej. You need to be dressed in party clothes. Now let's go, Masi might cut the wire during our next performance if I don’t get you both dressed in time.”

Inej remembered how her mother used to fuss over her dirty silks when she came back inside from an afternoon spent playing outside. “You’re right. Mama would absolutely do something like that.”

“Where are we going?” Kaz asked her, keeping up with her hurried steps with his usual ease.

Inej glanced at him. “Oh, so you suddenly don’t speak Suli anymore?” They walked around the performance tent to the line of caravans far behind it.

Kaz smirked arrogantly. “I never said I did. Just that I was learning. You didn’t think that I was going to come and meet your entire family without at least attempting to familiarize myself with the language, did you? It’s not that difficult to memorize a few phrases here and there.”

She pushed him lightly with her shoulder. “How about on the boat? Were you faking then?”

Kaz shook his head. “Technically, I wasn’t faking. I know some words and phrases, but not everything. Not yet. Give me a few weeks with your family and I’ll be fluent.”

Inej rolled her eyes. “Not a chance, Brekker. My language is too poetic for a shevrati like you to con your way in that short amount of time. Memorizing a few parables is not the same thing as being able to use all the beautiful nuances we have.”

“It would be easier if I had some help from a beautiful and smart teacher.”

“You’re right. I think Hanzi would probably be willing to sign up.”

“It’s rude to speak in another language, you know,” Adja said from in front of them. The three of them finally stopped in front of Adja’s family caravan.

Kaz shot a glance at her cousin. Inej translated and he apologized in Suli.

“Not you,” Adja nodded towards Inej. “I meant Nej. She was always a quiet one, you know. At least you got her talking.”

Kaz nodded along pleasantly thought it was clear he didn’t understand. When Inej explained, his bitter coffee eyes looked amused.

“I wasn’t quiet, Adja. Hanzi was just usually screaming over me about nothing.”

Adja giggled and unlocked the door. “That is probably true. I was thinking, you should fit in my outfit from Sankta Day last year instead of just a normal dupatta. As for Ka-s,” she stumbled on his Kerch name, “He can borrow Papa’s performance kurta.”

Kaz looked somber, but didn’t argue. “Chaacha Micta used to make some interesting fashion choices,” Inej explained to him as her cousin went in search of the outfits.

“How so?”

Inej bit her lip, holding back laughter. “Let’s just say that he probably could take a few tips from Jesper.”

His eyes widened. “Inej-”

It was too late. Adja emerged from behind a curtain carrying multiple pieces of thick fabric. For Inej, she had a neatly folded Anarkali suit of rich burgundy. Sparkling gold embroidery lined the long, slightly flared skirt and traced the cuffs of the fitted sleeves. A light, white and gold wrap also came with the outfit. On top of it sat a pair of high heels that matched the wine-colored clothes. Inej took the clothes into her hands, feeling the soft yet firm fabrics that were saved for more festive clothing in her culture.

“It might be a little long for you,” Adja eyed Inej’s smaller frame. “But it will do.”

“Thank you, Adja.”

She shrugged off her cousin’s thanks. Her other hand still held Kaz’s outfit. He was standing dangerously still beside Inej. His face was blank of any reaction, but Inej could only imagine what was going through his head. While her outfit was designed with elegance and grace in mind, Kaz’s was made for a true showman. Or at least for a color blind one.

Chaacha Micta had a performance kurta that was radiant white with orange and green gems cascading down the sleeves. Sunset colored pants were folded to match the sparkling jewels. It was both bright and sparkly, two things Kaz hated in clothing.

“Dhanyavaad,” Kaz mimicked Inej’s Suli to thank Adja. Inej was reminded of how good of a liar he was because if she hadn’t known better, she would have thought Kaz looked almost excited to wear her uncle’s kurta.

Adja beamed, looking between the two. “I don’t think Chaacha Baraz or Masi Calla would be okay with me leaving you two in here alone to change but…” Her cousin broke off and shrugged. “If you brought, Ka-s all the way here, I have to assume that it is not the first time you’ve been left alone.”

Heat flooded Inej’s cheeks. She couldn’t meet Adja’s eyes when she nodded. “It’s okay. Mama and Papa won’t know if you don’t tell.”

Adja continued to look between them. It was the same look Nina had given them before Inej had actually opened up about her relationship with Kaz. A look that said that Adja could see something they couldn’t. She was used to getting that look from her friends or other Dregs, but it was a little unnerving to see that look in the eyes of someone she hadn’t seen in years.

“Just don’t take too long. Chaacha and Masi will seriously cut the rope if they find out about this,” she pointed between Kaz and Inej. She swiftly ran out of the caravan, giggling at Inej’s eye roll.

Once she was out the door, Inej’s focus was back on Kaz. His polite smile dropped with Adja out of sight.

Kaz spoke seriously, “Inej, you know that I care for you deeply. More than anything in this world, I care for you.”

Warmth filled her heart, but her eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

“Because I care for you, I want your family to like me.”

“I already told you-”

“Yes, I know. I’m wonderful. A trickster god amongst men. But that’s not what I’m worried about.”

“Then what is it?”

Kaz looked at her in disbelief. “Do you even have to ask me that question? This,” Kaz raised the clothes in his hands to meet her eye level. “I’ve never seen anything so…”

Laughter burst out from Inej. She quickly moved to cover her mouth with her hands, but there was no concealing the way her body shook from amusement.

“That is a traditional Suli kurta, Kaz. It’s an important part of my culture.”

He shook his head. “I have seen kurtas. This does not look like that. This looks like some nightmare Jesper and Nina would have designed.”

“Poor Dirtyhands is too insecure to wear something so dazzling,” Inej placed a hand on his cheek. She ran a finger down the sharp cut of his jawline. “I’m sure you’ll look great. Not as good as Chaacha would in it, but a close second.”

Kaz’s eyes held a playful fury. His ebony eyes only ever fixed on her that way. It was a look that promised both a punishment and sweet reward for her words.

“If the Dregs ever find out about this…”

A wicked smile broke onto her face. “I can’t imagine how they would. I keep all your secrets.”

“Don’t even think about telling them, Wraith.” One of Kaz’s arms found her waist.

“Jesper, on the other hand,” her fingers moved to run through his hair. “Jesper is a bit of a big mouth. If this somehow got to him, I don’t think there is any way of stopping him.”

“I can think of at least twelve different ways I could stop him with this kurta alone.” His face moved closer to hers.

Inej turned so his lips landed on her cheek. “No time for that, Brekker. We have to get dressed.”

He sighed and gave the bedazzled shirt a weary look. “If you ever doubt how I feel about you, Inej, just remember this moment.” Before she could respond, Kaz gestured towards the room Adja had gone into to find the clothes. “I’ll change in there.”

Time and time again, Kaz reminded her of why she fell for him in the first place. He had seen every part of her and touched almost all of her, yet Kaz never made assumptions about her limits. No matter how far they had or hadn’t gone, Kaz always asked for permission. On the nights when all she could do was hold his hand, he never pushed her to go further. Even now, after what had happened on the boat and having had met her family, Kaz gave Inej the privacy she needed without hesitation.

With Kaz gone from her sight, Inej was left to unstrap her daggers and quickly dressed into Adja’s Anarkali suit. After a few minutes, Inej stopped hearing Kaz’s quiet cursing.

“I’m almost ready.” She called to him through the curtain.

He shuffled around on his side of the caravan. “This looks even worse than I imagined.”

Inej ignored him, debating whether or not to strap on her beloved blades for the feast.

“Inej?”

“I’m almost ready, you can come out.”

Kaz had been right. The kurta had looked worse than she had imagined. The shirt hung at little too loose from his slight frame, but the pants were too short for his tall stature. They stopped just above his ankles, showing a peak of his white socks.

“Oh.” Inej cringed. “You were not joking.”

Kaz looked at her intently. “You look beautiful, Inej.”

Inej had yet to see herself in the mirror, but Kaz’s reaction was all she needed to confirm what she had already suspected. Adja was slim like Inej but stood a few inches over Inej . The rest of her outfit fit as it was tailored to. The top complimented her figure while the bottom flared out into an elegant skirt that pooled around Inej’s feet more than she would have normally allowed. It wasn’t perfect, but she loved it regardless.

“Traditionally, I would have special Sankta Day earrings that have some sort of token to represent a Saint.” Inej absentmindedly tugged at her ears. “Though, I haven’t worn any earrings since leaving the Menagerie.”

His look softened. Kaz forgot all about his unfortunate attire. “Would you like to? I’m sure Adja would let you borrow hers.”

“The holes have closed by now. It’s okay. I don’t need them. I have these.” She slid Sankt Petyr, the dagger he had given her so long ago, into place. She tried to ignore the fact that it took her far less time to strap all seven of her blades into place than it had to properly dress herself in the Sankta Day skirt.

“I’ll tell Adja we’re ready.”

“Wait,” Kaz’s fingers intertwined with hers. He reached into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a matingkia made of expensive gold and rich-colored stones. It was simple, as far as Suli headpieces went, with one clear diamond in the middle of a small ruby flower.

“Kaz,” Inej’s breath caught in her throat. “Where did you find this?” Her fingers curved delicately around the precious metal.

“A vendor in Ketterdam had a tent full of Suli jewelry. He has a Suli wife that makes all the items to sell.”

“Do you believe him?” It was more than possible that the vendor’s story was a ruse to get more money from gullible tourists visiting the island.

“I’ve met her.”

“You did?”

“Yes. When I asked her to make this one for you.”

The matingka felt heavier in her hand than it had moments ago. “You asked her to make this for me?” Inej tried to envision Dirtyhands entering a Kerch market to meet with an ederlly Suli woman. She thought of how long he must have spent picking the design, and then jewels to place in it.

“I don’t know what to say,” she whispered to him. “She’s clearly very talented.”

Kaz tried not to look too smug which was a change for him. “Only the best for my Wraith.”

“Sometimes we wear them for special holidays.” Inej debated whether or not to say the next part. She didn’t want to make him uncomfortable by making any assumptions. “These are traditionally given to Suli women by their father or husbands.”

She saw him nod nervously. “I know. The woman, Gintha, explained to me the tradition. She said fathers would give them to their daughters and pray that the Saints would give them wisdom as they grew into strong women.”

“Did she tell you why husbands give them to their brides?” She couldn’t deny the fear or eagerness that she felt waiting for his answer.

“To symbolize the love and respect he promises to show her every day after they are wed. The same love and respect that I have felt for you every day for too many years to count.”

Inej’s body was frozen with emotion. Love. Kaz loved her. He didn’t just love her. He respected her. Respected her boundaries and dreams and goals.

“Nej! Are you done yet?” Adja suddenly banged against the door of the caravan.

The reality of her situation flooded back to Inej. For a few moments, she had forgotten who she was. Where she was. Inej took the head piece, not bothering to hide her flustered look as she pushed Kaz back behind the curtain.

“Get out of those clothes. Hurry!” Kaz laughed and she realized how her words sounded. “No! That’s not what I meant. I mean change back into yours! My family will just have to deal with your Kerch suit during dinner.”

She rushed back to the door and let Adja in. “I’m almost ready.”

Adja looked her up and down. “It fits better than I thought. And Ka-s?”

“The clothes didn’t fit him so he’s changing back into his. Here,” she handed Adja the matingka. “Can you help me put this on?”

“Did he give this to you?” she pointed towards the curtain.

“Yes. Now help me put it on. I’ve never put one on myself. Papa only ever put it on me once.”

Adja waved her off. “It’s easy.” She spun Inej around and took a few hair pins from her own brown hair to fasten it into place. “There! Done! Just in time.”

Kaz walked into the room, looking much less miserable now that he was dressed in his own clothes.

“Tell her that her father’s wardrobe should be burned.”

“He says that he loved the kurta and is sorry that it didn’t fit,” Inej easily lied. “Also your tie is crooked again.”

He cursed under his breath and nervously put into place as her cousin spoke.

Adja beamed at her. “I don’t believe that’s true, but it doesn’t matter. Come on! Everyone is waiting for you.”

Inej’s stomach turned over nervously. She had been so overcome with emotions when she’d first greeted her family. Those emotions were starting to settle, but in their place grew the seeds of anxiety once again.

Inej and Kaz trailed behind Adja as they made their way back from the caravan section of their carnival to the performance area. Inej looked around the cool night air, keeping track of all the things that looked familiar and different at the same time.

She pointed to a smaller performance tent made of a thick white sheet. “What’s that?” she asked Adja.

“We started to tour with a second family about two years ago. Hanzi is engaged to the daughter of their paira vaala.” A breeze opened the flap of the white tent and Inej could see the bed of coals used for the paira vaala, or fire walker.

“Hanzi’s getting married?” Inej couldn’t imagine her cousin as she had last known him having a fiancé. He was always too loud and playful when around his family, but unearthly quiet around other girls their age.

“I know! We were all just as surprised as you were. Chaacha Jilē almost fainted.”

“He didn’t tell them that he was seeing her?” Inej’s surprise only grew. While she may not have gotten her parents’ permission before choosing to be with Kaz, her situation hadn’t given the option of choosing the favored Suli traditions.

“He didn’t even tell me! And I’m his favorite bhara. At least I have been since you…” Left? Were taken? Disappeared? Inej could hear the end of Adja’s sentence even if her cousin didn’t want to fill it in.

“I remember that,” Inej awkwardly filled the silence. She pointed to a section of tents reserved for carnival games. “Kila,” one of their older cousins, “once bet me thirteen kruge that I couldn’t win every game in the tent.”

“Kroog?” It wasn’t until the word left Adja’s mouth that Inej realized that she’d forgotten the Suli word for currency or money. It was such a small thing to forget, but it made her stop in her tracks.

“I-” she started to explain. “I’m sorry. I guess I just haven’t used that word in Suli in a few years. Uhm,” Inej racked her brain, digging deep into her memories to find the right word.

“What’s wrong?” Kaz, who had been silently listening to their conversation, spoke up. He couldn’t understand them, but he could see Inej’s face change. “I think I heard you say ‘kruge.’”

She shook her head, momentarily confused as Suli and Kerch collided with each other in her head. Rupe. The word finally came to her in a blunt memory. “I forgot the Suli word for money,” she said to him in Kerch and then explained it to her cousin again.

“Oh!” Adja didn’t seem fazed by her cousin’s slip up. “Kila was such a gambler. A terrible one too. Though I guess he doesn’t need to worry about that anymore. He married a wealthy Shu family. How he wiggled his way into that, I have no idea.”

Inej nodded along as Adja rambled. She was no longer listening to her cousin’s end of the conversation. Instead, she began filing through the mental dictionary in her brain. What other words had she forgotten?

Bread? Roti. Butterfly? Titali. Bowl? Katora. Horse? Ghora. Ocean? Samudara.

Random words were tossed and turned in her head. Adja continued to talk about their uncles and aunts. She went through family gossip as quickly as Nina went through maple-drizzled waffles. Inej didn’t hear any of it. All she could hear was the sound of her Suli-Kerch dictionary flipping page after page.

Torsion wrench? What was the Suli word for the little tool she had used numerous times to pick a lock? Had she ever known the word? Had she ever needed to use that word in her native language before? Would she even need to say torsion wrench during dinner tonight?

Ketterdam isn’t all that bad. At least I learned how to pick locks using a torsion wrench.

No, there was no way she could even imagine herself saying something like that to her family. Inej realized that she had let her nerves run a little too wild. Adja hadn’t even noticed when she said “kruge” instead of “rupe”. The odds of her family being upset with her for not remembering a word here and there were small.

Kaz tugged on the fabric of her skirt, drawing her attention to him once again. His dark eyes met hers, silently asking her once again if she was okay. This time she didn’t have to force a smile on her face to reassure him.

“How did Mama put together a dinner so quickly?” Inej said the moment the smell of paprika, garlic and bell peppers hit her. They had circled back around to the performance tent. Instead of it holding a crowd of entertained Ravkans, tonight, the tent would be used to spread out a Saints-worthy feast.

Adja beamed at her. “Masi Calla asked all of our masis and chaachas that were cooking dinner for after the show to add extra coals to the fires. Some of the food had to be bought from the markets so it won’t be exactly like you’re used to, but it’s all that we could get together so quickly.”

“It’s perfect. You could have fed me rocks and I would have been just as happy to be home.”

The heavy tent flaps were pulled wide open and she could see dark-haired figures moving frantically around the tent. The round seats used for audience members were stacked on top of each other. Inej remembered how long it took to carry the iron seats from the caravans to place them in their rows. She had been too small to carry them herself, so she would hold the bottom half of a stack while Hanzi carried the brunt of the weight.

The high ropes were still strung up from their looming poles. She itched to climb up and test her technique. The chaacha who had first taught her how to balance was strict about proper posture. Though she had no real use for it when sleuthing for the Dregs, she could still hear his sharp calls to straighten her spine or keep her gaze forward.

“Make room! Inej the Great has entered the tent!” Hanzi exclaimed. His voice cut through the flurry of her family’s movement. Inej realized why her uncle had stepped down to let Hanzi handle the crowds. His deep voice was effective when it came to getting a crowd’s attention.

Toffee and hazel eyes all met hers. All of her family, almost twice as many as earlier, froze where they were to stare at her and Kaz. His gloved fingers curved in hers, but no one seemed to care at that gesture as much as they cared about the dazzling headpiece sparkling in the candlelight. Her parents had tears in their eyes as if it was the first time they were seeing her again. Inej had to hold back tears of her own. She saw the circle of food splayed out around the lush carpets dragged from Saints know where to cushion the hard ground.

Sarma, stuffed peppers, bogacha, and xaimoko were still in their metallic cooking pots, steaming as if the fire had just been dosed from under them. Pirogo and xaritsa sat in porcelain crockery that Inej suspected came from the Ivetan market her cousin had mentioned. Silver kettles of chao filled the room with a lingering sweet smell. Dark cups of kafa were already served and in the hands of some to her cousins.

The meal flooded her with too many memories to catch at once. She was swimming in a stream of random memories. Her tongue burning from spicy stuffed peppers and then from chugging a fresh cup of chao in a vain attempt to ease the sting. Mama teaching her how to prepare the sarma properly. Papa stiring a pot of goulash.

“Why are you just standing there? Come! Sit!” Papa gestured to a spot right in front of Inej’s favorite platter.

She blinked back tears. No more tears. Tonight was for celebrating all that she had come back to, not for mourning the years she had lost.

“Some of it had to be bought so it won’t taste exactly like you remember but-” Her mother rushed to her side, holding her daughter’s hand and pulling her and Kaz towards her father.

“Mama, I don’t care how the food tastes. This is already so much more than I could ask for. Just being with you and Papa and everyone else is enough for me.”

Her mother’s dark brows furrowed. She took great pride in her cooking, as a Suli should. “Yes, yes, but still...If you had sent us some sort of message so we could have been prepared, the food would have all been ready. We would have canceled the show much sooner. But no, leave it to our little Esfir to show up as if the Saints had let her fall from their very sky at random.” The novelty of Inej’s arrival was definitely wearing off if her mother was already scolding her.

She laughed despite her mother’s pointed words. Inej settled in her seat comfortably. Kaz sat beside her, looking so out of place in this bright colored tent surrounded by equally colorful kurtas. She couldn’t believe the sight in front of her. Kaz Brekker being handed a steaming cup of chao in his crisp, black suit.

Her own hands were already clutching a plate overflowing with food. Her father had served her heaping spoonfuls of every dish that sat before her. He paused, looking at Kaz curiously.

“Eh...food?” Her father surprised her with the Kerch word. She hadn’t known he spoke any Kerch.

Kaz nodded, “Krpya.”

Her father looked excited by his answer. He piled almost as much food on his plate as he had on hers. Kaz was excellent at hiding his emotions, but there was no hiding the amusement in his eyes. He took the plate with open arms. Everyone, including Inej, watched as Kaz lifted a fork to take a scoop of the rice-stuffed green pepper. He didn’t even flinch at what she could assume to be the spiciest bite of food he’d ever had. He chewed slowly, ignoring the flush that creeped up his neck. Judging from the smell, her family hadn’t held back when it came to spices that night. Finally he smiled, thanking her father for the food.

That seemed to be the cue her family had been waiting for. Everyone unfroze and went for a plate.

Kaz waited until they were no longer staring at him to reach for the tea. She had to bite back a laugh as he gulped down the entire cup.

“Spicy?” She asked, already knowing the answer.

Kaz looked at her as if she had grown an extra ear. “Spicy? Inej, I thought I was going to die.”

This time she couldn’t hold back the laugh. Everything about the night filled her with so much joy and laughter that Inej had to put down her food for a second. Her stomach burned from the giggles that shook her body. Kaz was actually blushing as her cousins closests to her looked at them.

“Kaz said the food almost killed him.” She explained to them. “The Kerch prefer their food much less seasoned. Mostly a hint of salt and pepper. It’s actually very sad.”

All of them broke out into smiles.

Her mother who was still standing behind them said, “Tell Ka-s that he’ll have to get used to real food if he’s decided to stay with you.” She placed a hand on Kaz’s shoulder affectionately.

Kaz, clearly not expecting the sudden touch, went still. His body tensed beneath the touch and his jaw tightened. Her mother noticed the change in his posture and jerked her hand back. She looked at her daughter quickly, but Inej could see the hurt and confusion in her eyes even if it was just for a second.

“It’s not you, Mama.” She rushed to explain for Kaz. His eyes had dropped to the plate resting on his lap.

“I told you that our life in Ketterdam wasn’t easy.” She tried to find a way of explaining without revealing too much of Kaz’s past. “He isn’t used to people touching him unless they’re trying to hurt him. Give him time, Mama.” That part was at least true.

Her mother nodded, looking apologetic but no less confused. This time she was looking at the visible scars along Inej’s arms. Her cousin’s outfit didn’t hide them the way her earlier outfit had.

Hanzi, who was watching the whole exchange from across the tent, spoke out. “What was it like, Nej? In Ketterdam?”

His father, Chaacha Jilé, used a serving spoon to give him a hard tap on the head. “Hanzi!”

“What? We were all thinking it!”

His father shook his head. “You know better than to ask that kind of question.”

“It’s okay.” Inej cut in before her uncle could use the spoon again. “Hanzi is right. You all want to know what happened. I don’t blame you.”

“See!” Hanzi pointed a vindicated finger towards Inej.

“Hush!” His father waved the spoon in front of his son.

She bit back a smile and continued. Inej looked at Kaz. His rigid spine loosened a bit, but he still looked a bit on edge. “I’m going to tell them.”

A small smile tugged on his mouth. “You know I support whatever decision you make.”

It was all the encouragement she needed. “Mama, Papa, you may want to sit down. It’s a long story and most of it isn’t pleasant.”

Her mother worriedly sat beside her. Her father put an arm around her shoulders, physically supporting his wife in the same way Kaz had just supported her.

“I was taken by slavers. They broke in and took me just as the sun had started to rise. They brought me to Ketterdam, where I was sold to a heartless woman who made me do unspeakable things for terrible men. Kaz worked for a group of young men trying to build a new business and went to meet with the woman at the request of his boss. I realized I could escape with his help, so I offered him my skills as an acrobat. He agreed to employ me legally and without having to do any of the things that I was doing there. He taught me how to defend myself. I worked as his spy and I was good at it.

“Ketterdam… it can be an ugly place that brings the ugliness out of even the best people. I’ve done things I pray the Saints will one day forgive me for; but I’m not the same girl I was when I was taken. If I was, I don’t think I would have made it through the first night in that city. I will never be that girl again, no matter how hard I try. And I’m sorry if that’s not what you want to hear, but it’s the truth.

“I was able to eventually afford a ship and a crew to run it. Now, I'm the captain of a crew of people dedicated to keeping other people from having to go through what I went through. I hope that the work I do at sea can help weaken any shadows I have created during my years in Ketterdam.”

Inej had, of course, changed a few details in her story. There was no way she was going to tell her entire family that the “business” Kaz was running was actually a deadly street gang. She was also never going to explain to them exactly how good at her job she had gotten. They would never understand the things she had done. In fact, if they could see the crimson stains on her hands, they’d probably be so repulsed that they would kick her out on the spot.

Her mother was crying again. Her father looked heartbroken as if all of his worst fears had come true.

“Inej…” Adja spoke first. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”

Inej was surprised to realize that she wasn’t in tears as she feared she would have been. “It’s not your fault.” She looked at her parents, realizing that they must have carried some guilt with her disappearance just as she carried the shame of the things she had done.

“Nor is it yours. We couldn’t have known those slavers were going to break into our home. You two did everything you were supposed to. When things were at their worst, I could hear your voices teaching me how to pray to the Saints. I was able to survive so long because I always carried the hope you taught me to hold on to. The hope that I would one day return to you.”

Her father looked furiously stubborn as he said, “And you have. You are home, Inej. That’s all that matters. We don’t care what you had to do to get here. As long as you are here with us again.”

“The Saints don’t punish actions done to survive.” Her mother agreed. “You don’t need to ask them or us for forgiveness. Forgiveness is earned, Inej, and you have been through more than enough to deserve it. We know you. We know you have a good heart. We love who you are now because it brought you back to us.”

“You will always be our esfir.” Her father held his daughter's trembling hands.

Those words were like the first bite of bread after a year long fast. Inej hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear them, or how much it would mean to hear them from her parents. Her father’s touch didn’t wipe away any of the blood on her hands nor did it take away the dark memories she would always carry. But it did make her feel hopeful for the future. For so long she feared that she could never return home; she feared her family would reject the woman she was sharpened into. Her parents didn’t look like they were ready to throw her out. In fact, they looked like they were ready to hold her tighter than ever.

“Wait a second,” Hanzi once again drew all the attention in the room back to him. “You said you were a spy and now a ship captain?”

Inej wiped a stray tear from her cheek. “Yes.”

“And that Ka-s...runs a business?”

“Yes, Hanzi.”

He looked suspiciously between Kaz and Inej. Then at the leather gloves and silver crow’s head of his cane. His jaw dropped. “Inej, you’re not saying what I think you’re saying, are you?”

She bit her lip, unsure of how to answer.

“He knows, doesn’t he?” Kaz’s gravelly voice was full of pride at being recognized.

“Don’t look so smug. I don’t think he recognized you until I said that I was a ship captain.”

“INEJ!”

She turned back to Hanzi. He was almost buzzing with excitement to hear her answer. “Are you who I think you are? Is he who I think he is?”

Her mother narrowed her eyes at her nephew.“Inej is whoever she wants to be. As for Ka-s, he’s Inej’s...”

Inej looked to Kaz for the answer. They had never felt the need to use a word to explain their relationship. Everyone on their tiny stretch of an island knew better than to question Dirtyhands or the Wraith. Their friends didn’t need an explanation. What she shared with Kaz went deeper than anything she could describe.

“What?”

“They want to know what you are to me.”

“Then tell them.”

“What do you want me to tell them?”

“What do you want to tell them?”

“That you’re the person I love most in this world.”

His smile was blinding. “I’m more than okay with that answer.”

“Kaz is my heart.”

Adja cooed, clutching her heart. Her mother looked approvingly at Kaz. Her father looked relieved by the answer. Hanzi still looked unsatisfied by it.

“Why are you all just staring at us? Let’s eat!” She mimicked her father’s earlier remark. The silence was once again filled with her family’s celebratory cheers.

“Thank you for coming with me. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

Kaz looked smug. “I love you.”

Inej smiled, looking around the circle of happiness brought together by a bond that went deeper than blood. “I love you, too.”

A/N Pt 2: Hi hello! If you happened to have read this before January 2, 2020 then you might remember that there used to be a long paragraph at the end of this fic where I acknowledged all of the cultures that I read about as inspiration to flesh out the Suli culture in this fic. Welp, because Tumblr enjoys to make life difficult, it actually decided to erase the entirety of this fic, leaving only the title. Why? I have no idea!!!! But that means I had to do everything and luckily I had all of the fic saved except for this second A/N bc I added it in right before uploading. While I’m incredibly annoyed by Tumblr glitch and am not able to fully write the original acknowledgment, I still want to give add a smaller version of the previous one.

All of cultures I drew from for this fic can be found listed here. The Suli language was a modified mixture of Hindi and Punjabi. The foods are mostly Romani in origin. The names are a mixture of Turkish, Hindi, Romani, and Slavic names. The clothing have all been specifically named. The head piece Inej wore was directly inspired by a South Asian maang tikka however out of respect for this real cultural practice, I changed the name/origin for the fic. Any parables/customs/religious beliefs explained in the fic are completely fictional that were either pulled directly from the SOC series or made up for this fic. Any connection/similarities to real cultural practices are completely coincidental unless I specifically said so. I believe that was everything important that I had in the original acknowledgment. I’m so sorry if anything was left out. If you do feel that I forgot to mention anything in this rewritten version, please let me know and I’ll do my best to fix it immediately! 

#grishabigbang #gvbb #gvbbfic #booklovingturtle writes #leigh Bardugo #Grishaverse #six of crows #crooked kingdom #soc #ck #Kaz Brekker #kaz rietveld #kaz #dirtyhands #ketterdam #inej ghafa #inej #suli #the wraith #wraith #ravka #kanji fic #kanej #kaz x inej #inej x kaz #gvbbcreation

[lesbeet]

not to be a nerd but i accidentally just wrote a whole impromptu essay about editing ndjsdksksk im throwing it under a cut bc it's fucking inane and really long but honestly... i just want other people to become as passionate about editing as i am lmaooooo

i also recommend 2 books in the post so if anything at least check those out!

quality books about editing... *chef's kiss* a lot of the basic ones (including blog posts online n such) are geared towards beginners and end up repeating the same info/advice, much of it either oversimplified or misrepresented tbh. but i read one yesterday and i'm reading another one right now that really convey this passion for editing + consideration for it as its own sort of art and i just!!

it's such a weird thing to be passionate about lmao but i AM and i've spent a lot of time the past year or so consciously honing my craft (ik i mention this like 4 times a week i'm just really proud of how much i've learned and improved) and kind of like. solidifying my instincts into conscious choices i guess?

and these GOOD editing books have both a) taught me new information and/or presented familiar information through a new perspective that helped me understand something differently or in more depth, and b) validated or even just put into words certain preferences or techniques that i've developed on my own, that i don't normally see on those more basic lists i mentioned

btw the book i finished yesterday is self-editing for fiction writers: how to edit yourself into print by renni brown and dave king, and the one i'm reading currently is the artful edit: on the practice of editing yourself by susan bell.

the former was pretty sharp and straightforward. the authors demonstrated some of their points directly in the text, which was usually funny enough that i would show certain quotes to my sister without context

("Just think about how much power a single obscenity can have if it’s the only one in the whole fucking book." <- (it was)

"Frequent italics have come to signal weak writing. So you should never resort to them unless they are the only practical choice, as with the kind of self-conscious internal dialogue shown above or an occasional emphasis."

or, my favorite: "There are a few stylistic devices that are so “tacky” they should be used very sparingly, if at all. First on the list is emphasis quotes, as in the quotes around the word “tacky” in the preceding sentence. The only time you need to use them is to show you are referring to the word itself, as in the quotes around the word “tacky” in the preceding sentence. Read it again; it all makes sense.")

and like i said, i also learned some new ideas or techniques (or they articulated vague ideas i already had but struggled to put into practice), AND they mentioned some suggestions that ive literally never seen anyone else bring up (not to say no one has! just that ive never seen it, and ive seen a lot in terms of writing tips, advice, best practices, etc) that ive already sort of established in my own writing

for example they went into pretty fine detail about dialogue mechanics, more than i usually see, and in talking about the pacing and proportion of "beats" and dialogue in a given scene, they explicitly suggested that, if a character speaks more than a sentence or two and you plan on giving them some sort of dialogue tag or an action to perform as a beat, the tag or action should be placed at one of the earliest (if not the first) natural pauses in the dialogue, so as not to distance the character too far from the dialogue -- bc otherwise the reader ends up getting all of the dialogue information first, and then has to go back and retroactively insert the character, or what they're doing, or the way they look/sound while they're giving their little speech

and like this was something ive figured out on my own, mostly bc it jarred me out of something i was reading enough times (probably in fic tbh) that i started noticing it, and realized that it's something i do naturally, kind of to anchor the character to the dialogue mechanic to make sure it makes sense with the actual dialogue

so like. ok here's an example i just randomly pulled from the song of achilles (it was available on scribd so i just looked for a spot that worked to illustrate my point djsmsks)

the actual quote is written effectively, but here's a less effective version first:

“Perhaps I would, but I see no reason to kill him. He’s done nothing to me," Achilles answered coolly.

see and even with such a short snippet it's so much smoother and more vivid just by moving the dialogue tag, not adding or cutting a word:

“Perhaps I would, but I see no reason to kill him.” Achilles answered coolly. “He’s done nothing to me.”

the rhythm of it is better, and the beat that the dialogue tag creates functions as a natural dramatic pause before achilles delivers an incredibly poignant line, both within the immediate context of the scene and because we as the readers can recognize it as foreshadowing. plus, it flows smoothly because that beat was inserted where the dialogue already contained a natural pause, just bc that's how people speak. if you read both versions aloud, they both make sense, but the second version (the original used in the novel) accounts for the rhythm of dialogue, the way people tend to process information as they read, AND the greater context of the story, and as a result packs significantly more purpose, information, and effect into the same exact set of words

and THAT, folks, is the kind of editing minutia i can literally sit and hyperfocus on for hours without noticing. anyway it's a good book lmao

the one i'm reading now is a lot more about the cognitive process/es of editing, so there's less concrete and specific advice (so far, anyway) and more discussion about different mental approaches to editing, as well as tips and tools for making a firm distinction between your writer brain and your editor brain, which is something i struggle with

but there have been so many good quotes that ive highlighted! a lot of just like. reminders and things to think about, and also just lovely articulations of things id thought of or come to understand in much more vague ways.

scribd won't let me copy/paste this one bc it's a document copy and not an actual ebook, but this passage is talking about how the simple act of showing a piece of writing to someone else for the very first time can spark a sudden shift in perspective on the work, bc you'll (or at least i) frantically try to re-read it through their eyes and end up noticing a bunch of new errors -

or she talked about the perils of constant re-reading in the middle of writing a draft, which is something i struggle with a LOT, both bc i'm a perfectionist and bc i prefer editing to writing so i sit and edit when i'm procrastinating doing the actual hard work of writing lmao

it's just this side of fake deep tbh but i so rarely see editing discussed like this--as a mixture of art and science, a collaboration between instinct and technique, that really requires "both sides of the brain" to be done well.

and because of the way my own brain works, activities that require such a balanced concentration of creativity and logic really appeal to me. even though ive seen a lot of people (even professional writers) who frame it as the creative art of writing vs the logical discipline of editing. but i think that's such a misleading way of thinking about it, because writing and editing both require creativity and logic -- just different kinds! (not to mention that the line between writing and editing, while mostly clear, can get a little blurry from up close)

but like...all stories have an inner logic to them, even if the writer hasn't explicitly or consciously planned it, and even if the logic is faulty in places in the first couple of drafts. when you're sitting and daydreaming about your story, especially if you're trying to figure out how to bridge the gap between two points or scenes (or, how to write a sequence of events that presents as a logical, inevitable progression of cause and effect), the voice in your head that evaluates an idea and decides to 1) go with it, 2) scrap it, 3) tweak it until it works, or 4) hold onto it in case you want it later? that's your logic! if an idea feels wrong, or like it just doesn't work, it's probably because some part of you is detecting a conflict between some part of the idea and the overall logic of your story. every decision you make as you write is formed by and checked against your own experiential logic, and also by the internal logic of your story, which is far less developed (or at least, one would hope), and therefore more prone to the occasional laspe

but while ive seen a number of articles that discuss the logic of writing, i don't see people gushing as much about the art of editing and it's such a shame

the inner editor is so often characterized as the responsible parent to the writer's carefree child, or a relentless critic of the writer's unselfconscious, unpolished drivel

and it's like... maybe you just hate thinking critically about your work! maybe you view it that way because you're imposing external standards too fiercely onto your writing, and it's sucked the joy out of shaping and sculpting your words until they sing. maybe you prefer to conceive of your writing as divine communication, the process of which must remain unencumbered by lessons learned through experience or the vulnerability of self-reflection, until the buzzkill inner editor shows up with all those "rules" and "conventions" that only matter if you're trying to get published

and like obviously the market doesn't dictate which conventions are worth following, but the majority of widely-agreed-upon writing standards, especially those aimed at beginners, (and most especially those regarding style, as opposed to story structure) have to do with the effectiveness and efficiency of prose, and, in addition to often serving as a shorthand for distinguishing an amateur from a pro, overall help to increase poignancy and clarity, which is crucial no matter the genre or type of writing. and even if you personally believe otherwise, it's better to understand the conventions so you can break them with real purpose.

so editing shouldn't be about trying to shove your pristine artistic masterpiece into a conventional mold, it should be about using the creative instincts of your ear and your logic and experience-based understanding of writing as a craft to hone your words until you've told your story as effectively as possible

thank u for coming to my ted talk ✌️

#long post // #editing #wref #sefa rambles

[zitkaplushie]

nightwing secret files liveblog:

this is gonna be a long one so it’s under a cut!

taking wing-

is that jason??

i like this 'a christmas carol' type exposition i'm ngl

i'm not sure if 'jason''s dismissal of the circus is dixon using an unreliable narrator, or if dixon actually believes that

god i hate this art so much

how dare u insult the teen titans in any way 😤 i like the name

also titans cameo!!

more awful jason characterisation (pls dixon just stay 8732894738 feet away from jason)

"without robin i have no family" i guess the titans are just chopped liver huh

"i always thought that one day i'd be batman" nope nope nope nope you have 0 understanding of dick's character if that's what you think mr dixon

i love clark having a part in dick becoming nightwing - i adore it - but the way dixon retcons the importance of the titans, and especially kory, in dick becoming nightwing rubs me the complete wrong way. i'm choosing to read this as a between the scenes moment, but i 100% dixon intended this to replace the titans' importance. and the way ppl just swallow it up w/o thinking about the reasons behind why dixon would want to erase the titans - and kory - pisses me off lmao

"i didn't mean to stay so long [with the titans]" *eternal screaming* he really wants to undermine the titans at every possible turn wow

at least the next page acknowledges the importance of kory in dick's life, but right afterwards we have "lmao she must've liked your costume. all the girls did. you're a chick magnet" (paraphrased) and i'm just back to sighing

also hi i'm mad at the framing of babs being the endgame bc of course they'd do that. and also at kory being shorter than dick. thanks! i hate it! i'm willing to bet that dixon asked for that specifically.

"this is where i came in" i'm confused at this part but tbh i don't care enough to think abt it any more

i'm also ughhhh at the way they're trying to give bludhaven importance. i don't care, i don't like it, he should've never moved there

ok i do really like that last page

the fact files things are good enough, i love the art for the haly's circus one! the pt barnum ref is 😬 though (ik ik it's the 90s but fjskdh why)

lost pages: teen titans-

ok so, i don't like devin grayson. i don't like her writing at all, i don't think she gets the characters at all, and hot take: if you dislike a character who's super important part of dick's life, and helped him come into his own and be who he is, you shouldn't be writing that character. (i'm talking about kory here, but tbh if you dislike any of the characters who dick interacts with frequently and are a huge part of his life - especially his love interests, and his family - you shouldn't be writing dick.) so i'm not going into this story with high hopes. however i've seen ppl talk about this story as being really good so i hope i'll like it too

you can tell she mostly cares about the fab five, which wouldn't be a problem if she treated the ntt characters better but alas ://

kory and vic both say 1 thing the entire page lmao

ALSO KORY NOT KNOWING WHAT DAY IT IS IS ABSOLUTE BULLSHIT I CANNOT BELIEVE

i loooove the parallel between dick grasping wally's hand and young!dick holding his dad's hand 🥺🥺🥺🥺

vic legit says one thing the entire story lmaoooooooo 🙃🙃🙃

i love garth and roy being brought to the tower 🥺

this is def some of grayson's better work, but it suffers from the same thing all of her stories do. she doesn't fully understand all the characters. if one character is off it affects the whole story. a lot of her stories have good ideas and poor execution, and this one definitely doesn't have awful execution but there's still something missing and as someone who loves the titans it's just sad. i get why people like this story - it made me tear up at the end ngl - but the rest of the titans are just as important as dick and it feels like the writer doesn't understand that. (i get this is a dick comic but it's still a titans story.) (it does however make me want to write a fic expanding upon this moment and the aftermath bc the idea of the titans all coming together to cheer dick up is so goooooood. are they gonna have a party celebrating dick's parent's lives? are they gonna eat junk food and watch a comfort movie? are they gonna just sit and talk?? the possibilities are endless!!)

the art is gorgeous as all of jimenez' art is, i love his style so freaking much!!

the next page is of the bludhaven supporting cast and all it does is remind me how much i do not care abt them. i think the only one i actually like is clancy, the others are expendable and forgettable. (i do love clancy a lot though, i wish she'd been written by more people than just dixon). though, i usually love guice's art, i think i actually prefer mcdaniel's take on clancy??? which is 100% a first for me.

i like seeing the set up to dick's apartment, bc i'm a sucker for layouts and maps. i wish this comic was way better written bc the concept of dick living in an apartment building and interacting with his neighbours is one i really like, esp in superhero comics. but again i have to say, alas.

a day in the life of nite-wing/hangin'-with tad:

painful... just painful...

i physically couldn't care less about this if you paid me

the next page is tad's file and i am Not Reading That. nope nope nope. and also fuck you.

next is a map of bludhaven, and like i said, i'm a sucker for maps.

the page after that is brutale's file and again i just do not care. the art is by damion scott who i really like, but the design looks like knock off scarecrow so

the next pages are files for double dare, lady vidc, shrike and blockbuster and i'm skipping them all bc i give negative fucks

next is a spread of what i assume is dick's cork-board? it looks kinda interesting but the writing is hard to make out and i don't care enough to try to decipher it

next is torque's files and same same, idc idc

nightwing's romances/orange you glad i didn't say banana?:

ok so y'all know i hate dickbabs. i hate everything about how it was built on the foundation of tearing down kory and dickkory and i'm a kory fan first and foremost so i hate this whole situation. so i'm already predisposed to disliking anything that talks about how babs is dick's true love, and talks down any of his other love interests. i come into this with an admitted bias. i'd try to be charitable but i don't see why i should when no one involved in the writing of dickbabs is charitable towards my faves so 🤷

i love love love stelfreeze's art! he's drawn babs in something else i read and i loved it then and i love it here!

i adore dick and babs' friendship, so the beginning is really sweet and cute. i also love the concept of baby!dickie being obsessed with watermelons and wanting to eat them forever

dewey decimal system!!! librarian babs reference!! fdjkh she's such a nerd i love it

babs trying to talk about romance and dick's like 'lol nah what abt fighting' lmao

i Do Not like babs hitting dick while talking abt 'i was segueing into talking about romance, hint hint'

this is romance? dick giving exactly 0 fucks?

why are these writers obsessed with hinting at dick and donna??? like first dixon and now grayson??? please stop!!!! i do love how he says he loves her bc 🥺🥺🥺 i love them

ur not being slick having babs call donna 'donna' and kory 'starfire', i see you grayson. i see ur hate for kory.

and reducing kory to just her body, and dick's sexual attraction to her boils my blood

i'm choosing to interpret babs's face in that panel as her being attracted to kory too

i do like that dick talks about being in love with kory, and thinking about still being with her. a) i'll take those crumbs, and b) thats how i see dick's relationship to love as being (though devin views him as kinda flighty and unfaithful so idk how we're agreeing on this lmao)

pls stop talking shit abt huntress devin, ur the one who made dick/hel a thing

since devin loves her brudick subtext, i'm side-eyeing the mention of bruce there

also why are we hinting at cass pls stop

babs being jealous and petty pls stop

the ending was smooth i have to admit it. if it was any other ship i'd probs love it but as it is, i'm tired of everyone else being downplayed in favour of the ~babs is dick's true loooooveee, it's always been herrrrr, from the beginningggggg~

i don't mind babs being dick's first crush though, in fact that's my hc for him because hello?? who wouldn't have a crush on babs??

thank you mr stelfreeze for accurately portraying babs' bitchface bc she's being a petty bitch here (and i love her but lmaooo i hate this whole thing)

next is the files on the bludhaven pd and i do not caaaare

then there's a timeline, but i don't care about any timeline that dixon writes. i'm petty though so i'm gonna read it and talk abt why i don't like the retcons.

i hate the dickbabs reference in YEAR FUCKING 3 jfc. pls stop with the retcons.

also lmao the difference between the way dick's canon relationship from that time is described in the shittiest way possible (though reluctant at first, dick begins a long and tumultuous romance with teammate starfire.) and how he wrote dick and babs' relationship (robin first teams with ... barbara in her guise as batgirl. the two will pair time and again over the course of their careers and develop a burgeoning affection for one another) this was at a time when they weren't even remotely interested in each other!!! there was no affections there dixon! no matter how much you wish it to be true!! and again the contrast with 'starfire' and 'barbara'! like it's dehumanising and i hate it.

and he can't even bother to get the new teen titans' team name right.

no mention of kory's importance in dick becoming nightwing, nope we ignore that bc it's thanks to superman now.

stepping away from the way he hates kory to talk about the way he hates jason! jason's described as a 'troubled orphan' and a 'juvenile delinquent'.

no mentions of how jason and dick bonded but as soon as tim gets introduced he talks about how dick and tim 'switfly bond as brothers'.

another incredibly impersonal description of dick and kory's relationship (the wedding of dick grayson and kory anders (aka starfire) is aborted by the rogue titan raven. dick and kory soon part company and dissolve their relationship.) but at least he calls her kory this time.

also i love how he speeds up through all the 'non important' development for dick but spends a whole page talking about all the bullshit he's been writing for nightwing. i understand why, but it's just lmaooooo 🙃 when you read it like that, it really shows how shitty this comic is.

talks of the 'doomed relationship' between dick and hel and i really hate it pls stop

the last page is dick's evaluation by the police academy and i do not care so i'm skipping it too.

#welp. this comic was a ride. i hated 95% of it and i hate dixon and grayson's writing #antidickbabs #bc i talked a lot of shit abt them #and i'm free to do so but i'm tagging for ppl who don't want to see ship hate #reyes reads comics #reyes.txt #long post #negative #for the blacklist #edit - i added a cut bc it was too long #2nd edit - ooff so many typos

[a-funeral-pyre]

Hey! Numbers 1, 14, 20, and 23 for the unique writing asks! (You don't have to do all of them if you don't want to). :)

Hi! Thank you so much for the ask! 

I’m writing or planning to write a LOT of things, so I will just focus on the fantasy novels I’m working on.

1.What themes would you like to write about that you feel don’t get explored very often?

I would like if there were more books on parental love. On the parent’s POV. I do not have children, so I do not have any experience as a parent, but I would love to read more about it... and family bonds in general is something I tend to write about. (I do not mean I do not aknowledge unhealthy families, just to be clear)

Also something I wish there was more material on is the passing of history, the way everything changes - and still human nature is the same. This is actually the main point of one of my stories.

More books about the importance of art, beauty and nature would be good too. No, there is not enough Romanticism in literature to quench my everlasting thirst.

14.If you’ve written more than one story, what traits do your protagonists tend to share?

I have actually created... too many characters but I can’t help giving them some common traits. Most of them are very emotional. They cry, they smile, they hug each other, they scream in rage. I want them to feel. I don’t really like writing cold characters. Reading them is a whole other story, but I’m just not good at writing them. They tend to suffer from survivor’s guilt, but that’s just what I think would be natural after what I put them through (I like angst). A lot of them indulge in some kind of art, usually music and poetry, and the latter brings about artistic/existential crisis nine times out of ten. I may be projecting a little bit here.

20. If you were published and had complete control over your covers, what would it look like? Do you have any specific artists that you’d like to illustrate it? Do you ike when characters are pictured on covers or do you prefer inanimate objects?

This will be long.

While I am deeply grateful to the people who helped me with covers on Wattpad, I really miss old-style fantasy covers. The ones with bright colours, swords, forests and so on and so forth. Most of my covers would probably be like that. It’s hard to define a general feeling because most of the things I’m writing is medieval fantasy, but not everything. But, anyway, having the main character(s) in an aesthetic pose would be enough (for example, a mysterious guy dressed in bear skins on a lakeshore enshrouded in mist and/or with the northern lights in the sky would be the perfect cover for one of my stories). Palettes would vary depending on how dark the story is (obviously). I’m not a fan of covers who do not feature characters, nor of covers with pictures instead of drawings (even hyperrealistic ones as long as I can see it is not a picture). I get it is much less expensive, and it is fair to use pictures, but I grew up with 70s fantasy and I am sticking with it. 

23.Do you prefer reading series or standalone novels and does that reflect on what you write?

I mostly read series. Usually, the longer, the better. I have written/planned:

-2 duologies

-8 standalones

-1 tetralogy

-2 trilogies

(It sounds like a lot, but I am at a good point)

I usually avoid writing two books for the same story, so if I write two stories set in the same universe they may have the same characters (but usually not) but the plots must be different. They may be entwined, but they still have to be separate arcs and to be mostly enjoyable as standalones plotwise. Most series are the same story divided in several parts, which is absolutely fine (I mean, I consider LoTR a single book, and Tolkien did too, but technically it is a series and making Wheel of Time a single book would be physically impossible) but when I conceive one story unless it turns out to be 200+ chapters long it is going to be a standalone.

[thorraborinn]

rune request: grimnirslee

@grimnirslee wanted the phrase “I am becoming who I am.” We weren’t really sure what time period to go with so I said I’d do a few things and explain the differences between them.

A complication came up immediately. The Old Norse syntax requires a demonstrative pronoun (something like ‘that one’), more like what in English would be “I am becoming (he who/she who) I am”:

(he) ek em at verða sá es ek em

(she) ek em at verða sú es ek em

But neither of these apply to Lee (they/them). Norse does have a version of this that is gender-neutral: ek em at verða þat es ek em. But I wasn’t prepared to just supply the demonstrative pronoun þat without checking to make sure it’s appropriate, because it happens to be a homonym of þat ‘it.’ It isn’t ‘it,’ it’s ‘that (one),’ and I was pretty sure that was the right way to do it, but it seemed like this was outside of my ability to call.

Of course, Old Norse is famously similar to Modern Icelandic, and this is something that has to be dealt with in Iceland. This isn’t the first time I’ve turned to Modern Icelandic to make use of Old Norse in a modern context, and it won’t be the last.

There are a number of gender-neutral pronouns in use in Iceland. The most common is hán, and is equivalent to something like singular they, ze, xe, thon, and others in English . In the table below, which comes from University of Iceland linguist Eiríkur Rögnvaldsson’s class materials (from https://www.mbl.is/frettir/innlent/2016/01/09/thad_kys_enginn_ad_vera_kalladur_thad_4/), the first four columns are personal pronouns (’he,’ ‘she,’ ‘it,’ and hán) followed by demonstrative pronouns (’that one (m.),’ ‘that one (f.),’ ‘that one (n)’).

When I was in school in Iceland I was told about several of these personal pronouns, but hán was the only full paradigm that we were actually checked on to make sure we knew it. I don’t know if there are usage statistics but it certainly seems to be the most common. Others include hín, hé, and þau (which is equivalent to singular they).

The fact that some Icelanders do use þau also threw me off, because as you can see from the table above, þau is also a (plural) demonstrative pronoun, so that also seemed to suggest itself as a solution here. I’ve even written about it and why I like it for linguistic nerd reasons on this blog.

Anyway, I consulted with some people in Iceland who are more knowledgeable than I am and they confirmed my thought that, when used specifically as a demonstrative, það is totally normal and is regularly done. 

If we’re to push that back into Proto-Norse to write it in elder futhark, it gets tricky. Though þat can be easily reconstructed to *þata, I’m not sure what to do with es/er. I usually recourse to Gothic because of how old it is, though my Gothic isn’t really up to snuff. I *believe* we would want to use Gothic þatei (or, I guess, þata ei). It doesn’t seem we can truly use the reconstructionist method here but signs point to it being something like PGmc. *ī. This usage of the particle at which functions like English to before an infinitive (at verða ’to become’ = ‘becoming’) is also insecure.This is my best guess for how to do it in Proto-Norse and elder futhark, but it really is not secure. I’m including word boundary markers but as always feel free to take them out (it’s probably more realistic to remove them), and also to substitute rune shapes:

‘I am becoming who I am’ ik im at werþan þata ī ik im ik.im.at.werþan.þata.ik.im

Doing this in Viking-age runes is much more secure. The choice between es and eʀ is basically arbitrary, both are used in Viking-age inscriptions. Eventually they are replaced by sem/som/sum.

In the very early Viking period we’d expect something like this. The first is before the change (reform?) to using single staves for all runes, followed by typical Danish style and typical Swedish style (based on the Rök stone). I used es and eʀ is there but grayed out so it’s easy to spot.

ek em at verða þat es ek em ik.im.at.uirþa.þat.is.ik.im

A more typically (but not exclusively) Norwegian style uses digraphs for vowels like e and loses ʀ early. This also allows us to show nasalization of the vowel in em and break up the mass of i-runes a bit. You could put boundary markers between ek and em like I did above but at this point it feels like I’m using too many of them to make this look like a 10th-century Norse person did it, so this one is a little bit inconsistent for realism (I can change that if you don’t like it). I chose er instead of es specifically to show ʀ > r has happened:

ek em at verða þat er ek em ikąm.at.uirþa.þat.iar.ikiąm

Moving forward in time a bit we get the option of diacritics to mark vowels more precisely. I’ve never done this before, but following the advice of Michael Barnes in Runes: A Handbook I’m going to start showing them in the transliteration (the bold text) with diaeresis, so that for example ᛂ is not e but rather ï.

ïk.ïm.at.uïrþa.þat.ïr.ïk.ïm

And then by the late and post-medieval periods we can find things more like this, the first being more typical for the Scandinavian peninsula and the second being basically the same Icelandic runes as they were used into the 20th century (and which Teresa Dröfn Freysdóttir Njarðvík is trying to revive):

1st: ïk.äm.at.uïrþa.þat.är:ïk.ïm 2nd: ég er að verða það sem ég er ïk̈.ïr.aẗ.uïrẗa.þaẗ.sïm.ïk̈.ïr

I uhh... I’m not sure I like the diaeresis thing. It makes sense for runology but I don’t know if that’s gonna make sense to more than 3% of people reading this. I might go back to the old way. I dunno. But anyway that’s it for this request, as always feel free to ask questions or for elaboration.

If you want to see something written in runes in a historical style, fill out this form to submit a request.

#rune request #grimnirslee #elder futhark #younger futhark #runes #long post #gender-neutral pronouns

[antigoneblue]

hi, i just abandoned my old blog and started a new one to post my poetry like. last night and ik it takes a while to get exposure but do u have any tips for getting ppl to read ur stuff if ur new and have like 4 followers? (btw love love love ur poetry it just feels rly raw and emotional and ahhhhhhhh ur amazing!!)

hi!! this is something that everyone probably has different strategies on, so this is just my two cents. this got really long so i’m putting it under a “read more”

make your blog presentable & unique/true to your style. this might sound like a snobbish thing to say, but there are tons of people blogging on tumblr. if you want people to notice you and to linger on your page, try and choose a good username, a profile pic that fits your vibe, a theme that is clear and easy to navigate, etc. there have legitimately been times when i’ve wanted to follow somebody but their desktop theme has been so messy that i couldn’t find their follow button. make your blog look nice!! have a nice tagging system!! make it obvious that you put some amount of thought and deliberation into making it. 

interact with poets you admire. this does not mean that you shoot people messages like “follow for a follow”  though, like. personally, i never follow people who send me stuff like that. be sincere.  everyone loves validation. reblog their stuff and talk in tags about why you loved it. message them if they’re having a bad day and tell them that you care.  make rec lists with other people’s poetry & tag them in these. something i used to do was leave poets whose work i liked little poems i’d written for them in their askboxes, usually off anon. do things like that, but don’t expect anything in return. if someone feels like you are genuinely being supportive, they are more likely to want to support you too, as compared to the whole “follow for a follow” thing.  you’ll also make cool friends in the process!!

this should’ve been point #1 maybe but i’d suggest that you keep your poetry on your main blog. your main blog is what shows in people’s notifs for likes, replies, asks and follows. it is much harder to get your sideblog to be as visible, usually. however, i have friends who have poetry sideblogs and on their main blog title or bio they mention “PLS FOLLOW ME @ ______ WHICH IS WHERE MY POETRY IS.” which is fine of course, but i’m not sure how effective it is? i used to have a poetry sideblog in 2016. i had maybe 30 followers. it’s HARD.

use relevant hashtags. i’m going to be super duper honest, i don’t really remember which hashtags work best. i usually use spilled ink, poets on tumblr, free verse, poetry, and other arbitrary tags as well as network tags. see what tags poets you like use and try using those. don’t use tags that you don’t have any claim to use (like don’t use poc tags if you’re white, etc. but you probably already knew that. also some networks like soft poets society have closed tags, so don’t use those without their permission.) some poets encourage their followers to use tags they’re tracking (i track #antigoneblue, for example) so like. if you want to be noticed just see which tags seem to work! 

join networks. you’ll meet like minded creators, and you will also find yourself in a space where everyone promotes everyone else. networks are usually good places to get exposure, to get noticed, and also to grow as a poet! 

interact with prompts. some networks post discussions, like nosebleedclub used to (idk if they still do?). some users post prompts, like adam ( julykings ) used to. keep your eyes open for these. when you write for them, the prompters will usually check your work out, and if they like it, they may promote it as well! 

don’t feel bad about reblogging your own work. we’re all yelling into a void trying to get noticed here.

similarly - don’t feel bad reblogging posts like “i’m looking for more poetry blogs to follow, reblog this and i’ll check yours out.” do it!!  there’s nothing shameful about wanting to be noticed.

i can’t think of anything else, but i feel like i’m forgetting stuff. anyone from @inkflowsnetwork have anything to add? uhhh….. @avi-burton-writing - you don’t run a poetry blog but you’re a pretty active and integral part of the writeblr community, do you have anything else to add????? 

idk. if anyone wants to add something, or expand/ contradict one of my points, feel free to! all the best, anon!

#anon #not a poem #thank u!! im rlly glad you like my poetry <3 #*sobs gratefully*