#(writing these always make me feel like the literature troll) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

m1ckeyb3rry · 6 months ago

Note

hii!! First of all ur theme is so aesthetically pleasing and I love all the nagi. I like binge read all of your event works and *chefs kiss*. Could I request a piece for karasu with the theme of like academic rivals/classmates? No worries if not, hoping ur doing well and taking care of urself!

On an unrelated note I saw that post about rude comments and im so sorry that’s happening to you! I honestly don’t know what drives ppl to bother leaving nasty comments esp when it’s not like they’re being forced to read anything T-T Hoping to send you a bit of love to counter those trolls!

── FIVE WAYS TO KILL A CROW

Synopsis: Crows are clingy birds, and Tabito Karasu’s feelings are hurt easier than you realize. (part two here!) (part three here!)

Event Masterlist

Pairing: Karasu x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 9.1k

Content Warnings: academic rivals to lovers, karasu is an asshole, reader is also an asshole, jealous karasu 😍, hiori randomly pulls up at one point for some reason??, yukimiya requests to follow one (1) person and accidentally causes the most dramatic pseudo breakup ever

A/N: anon i used to pray for times like these 😭😩 LMAOAO karasu is my fav (behind nagi ofc) but i’ve never gotten around to writing him so getting this request made me SO excited HAHA. i haven’t done anything rivals/enemies to lovers before so fingers crossed this doesn’t feel too awkward or unrealistic or rushed anything!! and yayyy i love my little nagi theme (and also nagi in general) i’m glad you like it too!! and my writing too, you’re so sweet 🥹 there will always be jerks unfortunately but lovely people like you make it all worth it 💖 thank you again and i hope this is kind of what you were looking for 🫶🏻

Additional: part of my 500 follower event! see the event description and rules to make a request of your own.

ONE: POISON IT

You could hardly contain your smile as you sauntered up to Tabito Karasu’s desk, your exam held behind your back. He was sitting by himself — his seat partner was sick this week, from what you had heard, so he had taken the chance to spread out his things and stretch his legs. When he noticed you, he raised his eyebrows, mouth tugging into a frown at your amusement.

“What?” he said. You brandished the paper in front of you, irises sparkling as you leaned over to rest your forearms on the desk.

“I got full marks on the last Chemistry exam,” you said. Karasu made a face at you, snatching the test from your hands and scrunching his face up as he inspected it.

“Seriously?” he said.

“Seriously,” you said. “What did you get?”

He crossed his arms and looked away. “Not telling.”

“You definitely failed!” you said in delight, taking back the exam and laughing at him. “How embarrassing. You failed the easiest test of the year, and yet you consider Chemistry to be one of your best subjects? I can’t wait to see how badly you do during finals week.”

“I did not fail,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I got a ninety-eight.”

“Ninety-eight! That’s even worse than outright failure,” you said. “You were so close to perfection, and yet in the end, you fell short. It must sting for things to work out like that.”

“Yes, I’m positively wounded,” he said dryly before batting his eyelashes at you. From anyone else, the rapid switch in demeanor would’ve left you reeling, but the shifting mood was to be expected from him. “Will you give me a kiss and make it better?”

You rolled up your test and smacked him on the head with it. “No.”

“Anyways, my overall grade in the class is still higher than yours, because rankings were updated today and I’m still number one, so I’m not sure what cause you have to be boasting,” he said.

“Hm, but did you notice who’s number one in Modern Literature?” you said, pulling out your phone and opening the school’s app, which listed each class’s rankings in every subject. “Yup, that’s right, me.”

“Good job, Y/N!” he said, clapping mockingly. “Shall we have a party? It’s a big occasion — the mediocre number two has finally done something of such note that she’s number one for the first time in her life.”

“I’ve been number one plenty of other times!” you snapped. “For your information, I’ve been first in the class in mathematics and history every year since middle school, so who are you to be acting like this is a first? If anyone’s mediocre, it’s you!”

He raised his hands in the air innocently, his trademark smirk gracing his features once more now that he had succeeded in irritating you, as was his typical goal.

“Alright, alright, no need to be upset,” he said. “It’s not good for you. Clouds your judgment.”

“In what way?” you said.

“I mean, somehow, you got the two of us confused,” he said. “And we’re nothing alike.”

“I did no such thing,” you said.

“Well, I seem to recall you calling me mediocre, but between the two of us, the subpar one is obviously you,” he said, flicking your forehead. You slapped his hand away.

“You — the bell is going to ring, so I’m going to go back to my seat, but just so you know, you’re way more mediocre than me, Mr. Two-Percent-Short!” you said.

“Stellar comeback!” he called out. “My ego is bruised beyond healing!”

“Good!” you called back, ignoring the sarcasm. “Maybe it’ll return to a more normal size. Your head has grown too big, it’s almost as ridiculous as that hair of yours!”

“Leave the hair alone!”

During your free period, you decided to go to the library for some peace and quiet to work on your homework and find some of the sources you needed for your next research project. For belonging to a high school, the library was surprisingly extensive, and you had managed to find relevant information for every other project you had ever done in it, so you had high hopes. Unfortunately, it seemed this latest assignment was more obscure than anything you had completed before, so on your second lap of the shelves where the books, if they existed, would be located, you resigned yourself to giving up.

Just then, a volume caught your eye. The cover was shiny and pristine, the spine still unbent with newness. Crouching, you pulled it out, and when you saw the title emblazoned across the cover in bright yellow lettering, you began to laugh, making a beeline to the checkout counter with it tucked under your arm.

“Hey, Y/N! How was your morning?” your best friend said as you set your things down next to her in the cafeteria. You hummed in agreement, searching the room for a familiar head of dark hair. “You good? Looking for someone? Let me guess: your secret boyfriend that you’re keeping from the rest of us.”

“Yeah, I’m looking for Karasu,” you said before the rest of her words registered. “No!”

“You’re finally coming out and saying it?” she said, holding her hands to her heart and pretending to swoon. “I’ve been waiting for you to confess.”

“He’s not my secret boyfriend that I’m keeping from everyone, I’m just looking for him!” you said.

“Could’ve fooled me,” she said. “What do you need him for, anyways?”

“I got a book for him in the library,” you said.

“Right, and this is the guy you hate? Your ‘mortal enemy’ or whatever?” she checked.

“Yes,” you said.

“But you…got a book for him from the library, and now you’re looking for him so that you can give it to him?” she said. You scoffed.

“When you put it like that, it sounds different than it really is,” you said. “Trust me, this isn’t a nice gesture or anything. You can consider it revenge.”

“When are you going to get over this stupid rivalry?” she said. “He’s not even that bad, you know.”

“Not even that bad? Not even that bad? Are we talking about the same Karasu here? I’m referring to Tabito, not his older sister,” you said.

“Ah, I think so? He’s a nice guy,” she said.

“He is the spawn of the devil! And he’s the one who started it, so I’ll stop hating him once he apologizes and means it,” you said.

“Do you think he even remembers that?” she said. “It was in middle school.”

You glared at her. “I remember it. If he doesn’t, well, that’s just more of a reason for me to dislike him on principle.”

“Okay, okay, whatever you say,” she said. “Sorry for complimenting him. He’s awful and rude and mean. I think he’s sitting outside with some of his soccer friends, if you still want to find him.”

“Thank you!” you said, instantly forgetting that you were upset with her for taking Karasu’s side instead of yours. “Watch my stuff, okay? I’ll be right back.”

“See you soon,” she said. “Have fun. Actually, maybe it’s more realistic for me to just tell you not do anything that’ll get you expelled.”

You waved her off as you marched out to the courtyard where Karasu and his friends were lounging, their chairs positioned in the shade so that they did not overheat while they ate. None of them noticed you approaching until you were tapping Karasu on the shoulder and smiling at him sweetly.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” he said, sounding oddly flustered. One of his friends snorted, and more than a few chuckled, but you ignored all of them in favor of setting your bag on the armrest of Karasu’s chair.

“Hi, Karasu. I was in the library earlier and I saw this book that reminded me of you, so I took the liberty of checking it out,” you said.

“Oh,” he said. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“You’re so considerate, Y/N!” one of his friends said.

“We’re all so jealous of Karasu here,” another friend, the one who you believed had snorted, said. “You’re way too pretty for him.”

“Shut up,” Karasu said, sticking up his middle finger at his friend, though none of the group paid him much mind. In fact, it seemed to egg them on more, as they continued to hurl jabs at Karasu while simultaneously incessantly complimenting you.

You didn’t respond to any of them, instead pulling out the book and handing it to Karasu, interlacing your fingers and waiting for his reaction. At first he seemed confused, and then dismay dawned upon his features as he realized what he was holding in his hands: a copy of Chemistry for Dummies.

“What the fuck?” he said. You patted him on the shoulder.

“It’s only suitable,” you said. Suddenly, his expression cleared, and he beamed at you, which caused unease to brew in your stomach. You knew for a fact that he was about to say something infuriating, and you mentally prepared yourself to respond.

“What a roundabout way of telling me you need tutoring! Of course, I’m happy to help you anytime you want,” he said, tilting back in his chair so that he could cross his arms over his chest arrogantly.

“Why would I want tutoring from someone who does worse than me in the class?” you shot back, crossing your own arms in retaliation.

One of his friends whistled. “She got you there, Tabito.”

“Enough out of you,” Karasu said through gritted teeth. His friend winked at you and mouthed ‘nice one.’

“Look, man, all I’m saying is that if you want to ask out such a beautiful girl, you’ve gotta have a little more finesse than that!” he said.

“He can have all the finesse in the world, but I’d still say no,” you said. His friends hollered with raucous laughter, which caused Karasu’s face to turn red, but you only pressed the book into his hands. “It’s due in two weeks. That should be long enough, right? Make sure you return it on time, please, I don’t want late fines.“

“I hope you go into debt because of this stupid book,” he said.

“Aww,” you cooed. “You’ll be the one paying it off, so it doesn’t matter to me. See you around, Karasu — or, hopefully not.”

TWO: SHOOT IT

You and Karasu had met in middle school. The two of you had been assigned to work on a presentation together, and he had told you during your first meeting that because you were a dunce, you should just listen to him and do whatever he said. Ever since that day, you had done everything you could to show him how much better than him you were; for his part, he found great joy in getting on your nerves and so took part in every argument with pleasure.

You had long ago proved his middle school self wrong, by anyone’s standards, but at this point it was a habit for you to hate Tabito Karasu as well as a habit for him to hate you back. And of course, habits were hard to form but harder to break, so you would probably continue in that manner until the day you graduated and left him behind for good.

It was just the two of you who did not get along. Your friends were cordial with him and his ilk, and you did not really mind his little group all that much, crude though they sometimes were. After all, it was just in the manner of teenage boys, and when they were not taking advantage of your presence to make fun of Karasu, they were actually a pretty agreeable sort.

In fact, your friend groups tended to coexist most of the time, even having lunch together every now and again — though they were always careful to ensure that you and Karasu were kept entirely separate, or else you both were guaranteed to ruin the cheerful camaraderie with your sharp tongues and quick tempers. The measures they took were admirable, but unfortunately, they were not always enough. After all, what were precautions when compared with inevitabilities?

“Oh my god!” you squealed. “Guys! Oh my god, oh my god, I can’t believe this is happening?”

“Can’t believe what’s happening?” your best friend said, speaking for everyone at the table. They were all tuned in to you now, wondering what the big news might be that would bring about such a reaction from you, given how put-together you tended to be.

“Do you remember that one model I happened to meet while I was out last weekend? Kenyu Yukimiya? He just requested to follow me on social media!” you said.

“No way!” your best friend said.

“Way!” you said. The only warning you got was an arm pressing against your back, and then your phone was abruptly snatched from your hands. You gasped, spinning in your seat and scowling when you realized that the culprit was none other than that scavenging crow, Tabito Karasu.

“What the hell? He’s average at best, why are you so excited?” he said, scrolling through Yukimiya’s profile, his eyes narrowed critically. “Y/N, don’t you have any standards?”

“You’re probably the only person in the entire country who doesn’t find him gorgeous,” you said, exhaling dreamily as you took your phone back from him and stared at the artful manner Yukimiya was posing in for his profile photo. “He was even better looking in person. And sonice, too! They don’t make men like that often.”

Karasu frowned and swiped at your phone again. You held it out of his reach, reaching across the bench to press your foot against his chest, effectively holding him back from further attempts at thievery.

“Let me look at him again!” he said.

“Um, no,” you said. “I don’t need you making more fun of him. I know you’re jealous, but expressing it like this only makes you uglier, just so you know.”

“Looks like they’re back at it again,” one of your friends said, massaging her temples.

“Yup,” one of Karasu’s teammates said.

“Ugly? Ugly? You’re calling me ugly? Have you looked in a mirror recently? Also, get your gross shoe off of my shirt!” Karasu said.

“I have looked in a mirror recently, actually, and incidentally I’ve also been keeping an eye on my follow requests. Guess what? I’m obviously good looking, since a legitimate model wants to follow me! How many celebrities request to follow you, huh? I bet the answer is zero!” you said, though you did do him the favor of swinging your leg back, allowing him to brush himself off in disdain.

“Lots of soccer players want to follow me,” he said. “I’m quite good, you know.”

“That doesn’t count,” you said. “It has nothing to do with how you look. They’d request to follow you no matter how hideous and poorly styled you and your hair are.”

“Are they seriously arguing about which of them is worse looking?” Karasu’s teammate said.

“I suppose so,” your friend said. “They’re both really hot, though, so I don’t know what the big deal is…”

“Geez, they’ll take any excuse to go at it, huh?” Karasu’s teammate said.

“Pretty much,” your friend said.

“Guess all of that tension has to go somewhere,” his teammate said.

“Exactly,” your friend said, shaking her head as she finished up her lunch.

“That model probably only works for horror magazines!” Karasu said. “It barely even counts!”

“He was in Vogue Japan,” you said smugly. “Look it up, stupid.”

“So what?” he said.

“So he’s handsome,” you said. “Like I said, it’s okay if you’re envious of him, as long as you accept it instead of doing this whole weird denial thing. I don’t blame you for it — in fact, I thought you would be. You don’t have much going for you overall, do you? In all honesty, it’s only natural for you to feel like this when faced with what you lack.”

Karasu’s eyes widened, and then he stood abruptly, picking up his bag with one arm and haphazardly pulling it onto his back. “Goodbye.”

“Bye,” you said, not really caring one way or another what he did with himself. Actually, you would prefer it if he wasn’t there, interrupting your meal and your daydreaming about your impending romance with Kenyu Yukimiya.

“Wow, Y/N,” your best friend said once Karasu was gone. “You’re kind of dumb, you know that?”

“What are you talking about?” you said.

“It’s not her fault,” another one of Karasu’s teammates said. “He’s not much better.”

“Huh?” you said.

“Never mind,” your best friend said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I have a migraine now.”

“Want some ibuprofen?” Karasu’s teammate said. She accepted it gratefully, and nothing more was said on the subject. The rest of lunch passed in a peaceful manner, though strangely, Karasu did not return.

It should’ve made you happy. You wondered, then, why it felt so odd without him there, like there was a gaping maw sitting in the place that should’ve been occupied by him.

THREE: DROWN IT

Ever since the day that Yukimiya had requested to follow you, you and Karasu hadn’t spoken. He refused to make eye contact with you in the few classes the two of you had together, keeping his gaze lowered to his work and his shoulders hunched away from you. You didn’t even try to talk to him; something told you that it would not be well-received, and you weren’t anywhere near confrontational enough to bring up his odd behavior, so the time without him dragged on and on, seemingly without end.

At first, you were happy, and you told your friends as much. It was a much-needed break from the constant aggravation he brought you, and you found your classes without your competition to be almost boring in their simplicity.

“The more you say you’re happy that you and Karasu aren’t talking, the less it sounds believable,” your best friend said, taking a sip from her juice box.

“Believe it! This is what I’ve been wanting since middle school,” you said.

“Is it?” she said. “It sounds like you’re kind of upset.”

“Am not!” you said. She shrugged.

“Sure,” she said, drawing out the word. “Definitely not.”

“Why would I be upset?” you said.

“You tell me,” she said.

“I’m telling you that I’m not upset. You’re the one with the theory, so give me some evidence to substantiate it,” you said.

“Fine,” she said. “You talk about him all of the time, even when you guys are getting along — or, at least, your twisted little version of being friendly, which isn’t friendly by anyone else’s standards but it seems to work for you two, so I won’t comment further. You keep telling us that you’re so delighted he’s leaving you alone, but you do this thing with your face when you say it that makes it super obvious you’re not. It’s not the kind of behavior you’d display when discussing someone you hate as much as you claim to hate him. Finally, there’s a reason half the school thinks you guys are dating, and it’s not just the obvious aesthetic appeal of that match.”

“What? I thought you were just trying to bother me when you brought that up!” you said. She shook her head.

“No, it’s a common misconception. It’s why no one’s ever asked you out. They all think you’re already taken. Actually, the other day, a guy asked me if I thought he might have a chance with you now that you and Karasu had broken up,” she said.

“What’d you say?” you said, half in horror, half in fascination.

“I told him probably not, and that you and Karasu hadn’t broken up, because you were never together in the first place,” she said.

“Oh, okay,” you said.

“Should I have said something else?” she said. You shook your head.

“No,” you said. “What else would you have said?”

“Dunno,” she said. “Look, you need to cheer up. I’m sure that if you just try to talk to him, things will go back to normal in an instant. Then you can return to complaining about him like usual.”

“Talk to him? About what?” you said. She gave you an incredulous look.

“You were pretty mean to him the other day, Y/N,” she said.

“It wasn’t any meaner than what he says to me on the regular,” you said. “And what I say to him in return. I don’t see why he’d be more or less offended.”

“I think it was a little worse than what you typically say,” she said. “Plus, the context was different.”

“How so?” you said. She shook her head.

“That’s for him to explain, not me,” she said. “Come on, don’t be stubborn. Work things out with him. I miss hanging out with the guys.”

“Ah, so that’s why it matters to you,” you said. “Sorry to say it, but I don’t have any plans at attempting conversation with him anytime soon. Like I said, things are finally calm and stress-free for me. He’s the one being immature, as always, so why’s it up to me to make things better?”

“Immature?” your best friend said. “You’ve held a grudge against him since middle school.”

“And?” you said. She squinted at you before pursing her lips.

“Well, I guess the two of you really are made for one another,” she said.

“What?”

The next week would mark the beginning of the swimming unit in PE class, which you were actually looking forward to. You loved to swim, you had ever since you were a child and your parents had brought you into the water for the first time, and the thought of getting to earn a good grade for something you liked doing in the first place was an agreeable on.

In preparation, you decided to stop by the pool after classes were over so that you could acclimate yourself to the motions of the strokes once again. The swim team’s practice had been canceled, and no one else ever used the pool, so you would have the place to yourself, which was just about the closest thing to heaven you could imagine while still living on Earth.

Changing into your school-issued bathing suit and putting your things into a locker, you tied your hair back so that it was out of the way and stepped into the steaming indoor pool deck. The water was a bright cerulean shade, the lanes split by lane-lines which alternated colors to match your school’s emblem. When you dipped your toe into the deep end, you found it was warm, not cold like you had feared. The school didn’t splurge on heating the water of the rarely-used pool, so usually, it was all but freezing. You supposed that they must’ve had complaints from last year’s PE classes, so they had restarted the heaters in order to ensure that no one had any cause to whine about the temperature this year.

For a moment, you just sat on the tiled edge, your legs swishing about in the water, the heels of your palms pressing against the lip of the pool as you closed your eyes and luxuriated in the tangy scent of chlorine. So lost were you that you almost didn’t notice the door swinging open, but the clang of it shutting was unmistakable. Thinking it must’ve been a confused swim team member showing up to a practice that wasn’t happening, you opened your eyes, your lips parting to issue a reprimand that died before it could take shape.

It wasn’t a swim team member. It was Tabito Karasu, wearing a pair of swim trunks and nothing else, his jaw taut and his fists clenched as he inched towards the water. He hadn’t even noticed you, and you didn’t feel inclined to announce yourself, so you let your elbows dig into your thighs, your chin resting in your hands as you observed him.

You had known that he played soccer almost as long as you had known his name. It was the entire reason he was so popular and well-regarded in the school, and an inextricable part of his identity, but until now, you hadn’t quite considered what that actually meant. After all, you only ever saw him in the loose, modest clothing of the school’s uniform, so why would you jump to the conclusion that he was so — so — well, you were loath to admit it, but he had a striking body, and, now that he wasn’t being all cocky and maddening, you could appreciate that even his face was of a similar quality.

Blinking, you cocked your head as he extended a graceful foot towards the first stair leading into the shallow end. Water splashed against it, and he yanked it back like he had been scalded. You could not help yourself from giggling as he did this once and then twice again. On the third attempt, you forgot that the two of you weren’t acknowledging one another and cupped your hands around your mouth to amplify your voice.

“What are you doing?” you said.

“Who — Y/N? I didn’t realize anyone else was in here!” he said, stepping back from the pool and straightening his shorts, though there was nothing wrong with them that required straightening. You sprang to your feet and walked over to him, leaving wet footprints in your wake as you peered at him curiously.

“I was just going to do some laps to ensure that I’m at my best for the swimming unit next week. Did you have the same idea?” you said.

“Something like that,” he said.

“What’s with that whole ritual, though?” you said. “It’s not that cold. You should just get in.”

“Definitely not,” he said. You furrowed your brow.

“Okay,” you said. “Why are you at the pool, then, if you don’t want to go in the water?”

“It’s nothing you need to be concerned with!” he said. “Why are you so nosy? Just go away.”

“I was here first,” you said.

“Fine,” he said, spinning on his heel. “I’ll go, then.”

“Wait! Karasu, wait,” you said, grabbing onto his wrist as he made to leave. “Look, we don’t have to talk to one another or anything. We’re experienced enough at ignoring each other, so there’s not an issue in both of us being here.”

“Is that what you want?” he said.

“Yeah, sure,” you said. He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing, and you thought he would say something, but he only nodded curtly.

“Fine,” he said. You gave him an expectant look, but he did not move from the spot he was rooted in, so you thought that you might as well take the initiative. Looping around to the deep end, you inhaled and then dove into the water headfirst, staying under for as long as you could before finally surfacing and allowing yourself to settle into the familiar undulations that came with swimming.

After a few laps, you took a break, peeking up over the concrete to look at Karasu, who was still standing stubbornly in place, his nose wrinkling whenever he glanced at the pool.

“Hey,” you said. “Are you scared of the water or something?”

He froze. “Who told you that?”

“No one?” you said. “It’s pretty easy to tell as an onlooker. Were you planning on trying to get over your fear by coming to swim when no one was here? That’s dangerous if you don’t know how. You could drown.”

“I’m not scared of the water,” he said.

“Really? Then why’re you just standing there?” you said. His mouth opened and closed a few times, and then finally he hung his head in reluctant defeat.

“Whatever,” he said. Judging by the way he tensed immediately after the confession, he was expecting you to say something cruel, but you only boosted yourself out of the water and tapped him on the shoulder.

“I can help you, if you’d like,” you said. “I’m good at swimming.”

“Why would I want your help? And why would you even offer it in the first place? This is just one more subject you can beat me in, and that’s all you care about, so save it,” he said. “Congratulations, Y/N. You get to be number one this time.”

He looped a dry towel around his neck and left you standing alone, shivering and dripping pool water, a puddle forming around your feet as you gazed at the door he had vanished through.

The class rankings updated again after the swimming unit was over. You were in first place. Karasu didn’t even make it to the top ten. You wanted to celebrate the victory — it was the first time you had beaten him so thoroughly, after all — but for some reason, it didn’t really feel like something worth celebrating.

FOUR: STONE IT

School without Karasu was lonelier than you thought it would be. You hadn’t realized just how much you relied on him until he wasn’t there anymore. Without him, there wasn’t anyone you could exchange looks with across the room when somebody said something ridiculous in class. There wasn’t anyone who you could talk to in the minutes before the period began. There wasn’t anyone who made you push yourself to be better. What was the point of being first if Karasu wasn’t on your heels, ensuring that you stayed on the top for fear of losing to him? It was boring and lonely to try if he wasn’t doing the same.

You and he were still one and two, but it didn’t matter much anymore. The rankings were just numbers. They didn’t mean anything when Karasu still refused to even exchange pleasantries with you. Why would you want to compete when the other party didn’t share your interest? Now, if you managed to pull out ahead of him, it felt more like you had kicked a dog that was already down than if you had actually won anything. When he got first over you, it didn’t fuel your ambition any. You just wished he would come over and gloat instead of sitting there so solemnly, like none of it had ever mattered to him in the first place.

You couldn’t understand why he was so angry. What had you said that was so egregious? You hardly remembered the conversation you had had with him, it was that thoughtlessly done. You really hadn’t meant much if anything by it. One second, the two of you had been squabbling as you were prone to doing, and the next, he was so furious that he couldn’t bear to interact with you even still.

The day you were ambushed was nondescript. It was just like any other Wednesday, and you were walking back home from school when you were forced to stop in your tracks. A tall man — no, he was a boy, probably a year or two younger than you based on his soft and innocent expression — was barring your way, his arms outstretched and feet planted firmly in the ground to prove the depth of his conviction. He had pale hair and sky-colored eyes framed by the longest eyelashes you had ever seen on anyone, man or woman, with a small mouth pinched into an expression of discontent and lines like tire tracks between his eyebrows.

“Who are you?” you said warily, reaching for your phone, though you hardly knew who you would call. The setting was wrong for this to be a mugging, as it was sunny out and you were on a well-traveled street, but you didn’t really know what else to expect from the stranger, who could certainly outmuscle you if it came to it despite his lovely appearance.

“Yo Hiori,” he said. “I play on Bambi Osaka with Karasu. You’re Y/N L/N, correct?”

“Oh, one of the soccer guys?” you said. “Uh, hey. Yes, that’s me. Is something the matter? I’ve never seen you before. How do you even know who I am?”

“I’ve been watching Karasu for a while,” Hiori said with the utmost of seriousness, his hands dropping to his sides now that he was sure you weren’t going to run past him. “He’s a pretty fascinating person.”

“I’m sure,” you said, thinking to yourself that this Hiori kid was more than a little weird. Did Karasu know that he had acquired such a shadow? You supposed he must’ve. He had always been the observant type, so there was no way someone like Hiori would’ve escaped his keen notice.

“He’s been kind of down in the dumps recently, though. Even our coach noticed it. His playing hasn’t suffered too dramatically, but he’s the captain of the team, so he’s the guy everyone relies on for a funny pep talk or a word of advice when things are going south. Nowadays, however, when he’s off the field, he just sulks,” Hiori explained.

“I see,” you said. “That’s terrible.”

You meant it, too. Karasu without his asshole quips and ready jokes was a different person entirely. A person who you missed more than you could let on, even to yourself.

“It is,” Hiori said. “I took it upon myself to do some digging, and I’ve come to the conclusion that the reason is you.”

He was definitely a freak. You vowed to bring it up with Karasu, if he ever talked to you again. Even if he was already aware, it felt like a moral or civic duty of yours to ensure that he was fully informed about the extent that this child was inquiring into his life.

“What kind of, uh, digging do you mean?” you said, neatly avoiding the second thing he had said.

“It was pretty simple,” Hiori said. “One of the guys asked Karasu if he was acting off because he broke up with his girlfriend or something, and he got so mad that he left practice early. I opened up social media as soon as I got home and saw that you’re the only girl he follows, so by process of elimination, I figured the two of you were having some trouble in your relationship.”

“Relationship? I think you’re misunderstanding,” you said. “There’s no relationship. You could hardly even consider us friends.”

“Oh!” Hiori said. “I’m sorry. He’s mentioned you once or twice, so I just thought — and given what he said — and his reaction and all — no, I really am just sorry. It was wrong of me to make that assumption in the first place.”

“It’s alright,” you said. “I’m told it’s a relatively common misconception, so I can’t blame you. At least, it used to be. We haven’t really spoken in a while, so I guess everything thinks that it’s over, even though it never began in the first place.”

“You haven’t spoken in a while?” Hiori said. “Why not?”

“I think I said something that offended him, and we haven’t been on good terms since. Not that we ever really were in the first place,” you said.

“You did? He’s a pretty rational person, so it must’ve been something terrible for him to still be angry about it,” Hiori said.

“Maybe, but I don’t remember saying anything like that,” you said.

“What if you tell me how your last conversation went? Maybe I can help you,” he said.

“Sure, since you’re apparently the resident Karasu expert,” you said. “Wanna walk with me? I was heading home, but we can go to the convenience store and get some snacks or something instead. I don’t want to get in trouble for standing around in front of some random person’s house for too long.”

“Sounds good,” Hiori said. “There’s one a couple of minutes away, so we can head in that direction and keep talking as we go.”

“Great,” you said. “Okay, so the last time we talked…I think it was when Kenyu Yukimiya requested to follow me.”

“Who’s that?” Hiori said.

“He’s this model I met while I was shopping one day. Absolutely breathtaking,” you said. “Just really a stand-up guy. We’ve hung out a few times since then, he introduced me to the girlfriend I did not know he had, the works.“

“Yikes, unrequited love?” Hiori said with a wince.

“It was more of a celebrity crush. His girlfriend is super sweet, though, so I can’t complain. Anyways, I would consider them both casual acquaintances. The type you call to have a coffee with, but not the ones that help you move into a new apartment, you know?” you said.

“Uh, sure,” Hiori said in a tone which suggested he had no idea what you were talking about but was too scared to inquire further.

“Moving on, Yukimiya requested to follow me, and of course this was at the peak of my celebrity crush, so I started fawning over him, which prompted Karasu to take my phone and start insulting him,” you said.

“Interesting,” Hiori said.

“Then I called him ugly, and he called me ugly — that’s pretty standard for the two of us, so don’t look so shocked! After that, I said something about how I had expected him to be jealous of Yukimiya, since he didn’t have much going for him overall, so it made sense,” you said. “That’s when he left and things got weird.”

“Okay, I think I get it,” Hiori said. You waited for him to explain further. He smiled at you pleasantly.

“Right, so are you going to share with the class or am I meant to read your mind?” you said after a moment.

“I don’t want to give anything away that I shouldn’t,” he said. “But it’s a pretty simple issue to fix. Try thinking about what you said from his perspective.”

“He has a dumbass perspective. It’s impossible for me to think that way,” you said automatically.

“Do you think that he dislikes you?” Hiori said, taking two bottles of Yakult down from the shelf, handing one to you and keeping the other for himself.

“I’m not really sure how he feels about me, to tell you the truth,” you said.

“I don’t think he does,” Hiori said. “So, try thinking about someone you like and then imagine them saying to you what you said to them. Would you be inclined to be nice to them after that?”

“Well…” Your tongue was heavy and leaden in your mouth, and you ducked your head as you searched through your wallet for money. “No, not at all. I’d probably hate them for a really long time. Maybe forever.”

“That’s possible,” he said.

“Do you think he’ll hate me forever?” you said.

“Most likely not. Like I said earlier, he’s a rational person. I think that if you say sorry and sincerely mean it, he’ll forgive you. There’s a chance he won’t, though; you’ll have to listen to what he says and accept it,” Hiori said.

“But when? I hardly have the chance to see him in school. He just avoids me, and the building’s so big that it’s all but impossible to track him down!” you said.

“We have a soccer game in the evening today,” Hiori said. “I’m heading over there in a bit. Wanna come? You can talk to him once it’s over.”

“Am I allowed to?” you said.

“Why wouldn’t you be?” Hiori said. “If anyone says anything, just tell them I invited you. Here, I’ll give you the address and time now, and you can decide if you want to show up.”

“Okay,” you said, typing out his instructions in your notes app. “Thanks a lot for your help, Hiori.”

“Anytime!” he said. “Hope to see you at the game!”

“Even if I don’t go, I’d still like to meet you again. You’re a pretty cool kid,” you said, reaching up to ruffle his hair. “Kind of weird, if I’m being fully honest, but cool nonetheless. Karasu’s lucky to have a teammate like you.”

He grinned, and it was a tender, shy thing, as if he was earnestly seeking your praise or approval — like how a cat would bring a dead rat to its master or a child would show their parents a treasured drawing. “Thank you. Even if you don’t try to talk to Karasu…maybe you can still come anyways?”

“Alright, then,” you said. “Since you asked so nicely, I guess I have to. I’ll be there.”

FIVE: TAME IT

The sun was nearing the horizon, but it still had not officially begun to set by the time you settled in the bleachers on Bambi Osaka’s side. Besides a couple of women your mother’s age and an elderly man who must’ve been someone’s grandfather, there weren’t any other spectators. Hiori had mentioned that this wasn’t a particularly serious game, as they didn’t even need to beat the team to make it to Nationals, so it was more like a friendly exhibition game than anything — hence the low turnout.

“Hello, dear,” a woman said when she noticed you sitting by yourself. “Are you friends with one of the players?”

“Yes. Um, Tabito Karasu? I’m his classmate,” you said. Technically, you were there on Hiori’s goodwill, not Karasu’s, but for you to not mention Karasu would be like a betrayal. You weren’t sure if it was him or yourself that you’d be betraying, but either way you did not want to chance it.

“You’re one of Karasu’s friends? Lucky you, then,” she said. “He’s a delightful boy, or so I’ve heard. This is my son’s first year on the team, and he was really nervous to join such a prestigious organization, but ever since his first day, all he can talk about is how amazing his captain is. Karasu’s tough on all of the players, but he really works hard to make all of them feel welcomed, too.”

Bambi Osaka’s team took the field, and you smiled when you saw Karasu in the front, his name across the back of his jersey, a pair of black gloves covering his large hands, an insolent leer on his face as he greeted the other team’s captain. He had not noticed you yet, and you were not sure if this was for the better or worse, because you wanted him to see you, but you didn’t want him to be distracted and play poorly as a result.

“He’s a wonderful person,” you agreed. “He’s the only one in the entire school who can keep up with me, academically or otherwise. I didn’t realize until recently how much I admire him for that.”

The woman’s eyes crinkled around the corners with the ease that came from a lifetime of happiness. For some reason, you thought that she knew something you did not, or could not, but it wasn’t uncomfortable that she did. It seemed to you that being left in the dark was just your lot this time around, and you found that oddly enough, it felt acceptable.

“Is this your first time coming to watch him?” she said.

“Yes, it is,” you said.

“You know, he has this habit before every match of scanning the stands, like he’s looking for someone. I thought it might be his parents, but at the last match, just about his entire family showed up, and he still seemed disappointed,” she said.

“That’s a shame,” you said noncommittally, not sure what else you should say. The woman shrugged.

“Well, I wonder what it’ll be like today,” she said. “There he goes.”

True to her words, Karasu was craning his neck towards the Bambi Osaka side, his eyes darting from person to person until they settled on you. You raised your hand hesitantly, waving at him, knowing that he probably wouldn’t reciprocate.

He turned away almost immediately, but not before you saw him fight back a smile — not the smug type he generally donned, but one you had only ever seen on him once or twice. It was one that made him seem charming and boyish and sweet, that made you want to take back every negative word you had ever said about him. Only now could you understand that it showed who he really was, that at his heart Karasu was that kind of person, not anything like the facade you were so accustomed to, which he showed you for the sole reason that it was what you unconsciously demanded of him.

You had judged him to be horrible, and so he became the bane of your existence. You had told him he was good for nothing, so he disappeared like he really was just that. Everything you said, Karasu went along with gamely, and you wished you could’ve known that earlier, so you would’ve spent less time hating him and more time comprehending these intricacies, which entranced you in the way a spider’s web entranced a butterfly.

“Looks like I don’t need to worry about that child any more,” the woman said as the referee blew the whistle to signal the start of the game.

“Pardon?” you said. “Were you talking to me?”

“No, no,” she said, shaking her head. “I was just musing to myself. Ignore me. Let’s watch the game; I have a feeling that some of our players are going to go all out today.”

Bambi Osaka completely annihilated the other team. Maybe the match didn’t matter, but none of them played that way; instead, they were aggressive and focused, with Karasu at the forefront of every goal they made, commending his teammates and deriding his opposition in the same breath.

That was something you had not expected — he had a massively foul mouth when he played soccer. You had thought that he was rude when he spoke to you, but the things you overheard from him whenever he ran by within earshot made your conversations seem tame. You couldn’t help but pity the poor defenders that he shoved past and spat barbed-wire abuse at.

He was merciless and beautiful and you could probably spend a dozen more hours watching him play without even a trace of boredom, but by the time the sky had turned gold and the sun had dipped towards the ground, the game was over and the members of Bambi Osaka were packing up their things to leave for the night after yet another landslide win.

You snuck onto the field once you were extremely assured that nobody would be upset with you for it, making your way over to where Karasu was chugging a bottle of water.

“Hi,” you said when he was finished, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and tossing the now-empty bottle into his bag. “You played really well.”

“Thanks,” he said. There was impatience but also longing in his voice, like he wanted you to say something so badly but he knew you would not, would never, and so he would rather get the conversation over with and move on with the business of his life than stick around and waste time with you.

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“What?” he said.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “Karasu, I’m really sorry. I don’t think that you have nothing going for you. I don’t know why I said that. Well, I do, it’s because I wanted to have the last word like I always do, but I don’t mind if I don’t have it this time. Or any other time. Or ever again.”

“What?” he repeated, as though he had been rendered dumb by your confession.

“I miss you,” you admitted. “I didn’t believe I could, but apparently, I can, and I do. A lot. I know that I’m unpleasant and disparaging and haughty when it comes to you, but I won’t be that way anymore if you forgive me for my vices one last time. If it means you’ll talk to me, I’ll be a fool. I’ll be in second place. I’ll be an idiot. But please, please forgive me.”

He took a deep breath. You handed him the bottle of kombucha that you had bought on your way to the game because you saw him drink it so frequently that you figured he must like it. He accepted it gingerly, holding it with the delicacy of a newborn, unscrewing the lid and sipping on it pensively.

“Alright,” he said.

“Alright?” you said.

“I’ll forgive you,” he said. “But on one condition.”

“Anything,” you said.

“You better not do anything as dumb as trying to be mediocre on purpose because you think it’ll make me feel better. What the hell is that proposition, huh? It’ll make me feel worse if anything! I like you because you’re unpleasant and disparaging and haughty and whatever else you said, not in spite of those qualities. I’m sure you heard me while I was playing…anyone who isn’t you would probably be terrified of me when I’m like that,” he said. “Just, y’know, I’m a person with feelings, too, so keep that in mind if you can. Oh, and don’t wait so long to say sorry next time, because it’s seriously annoying for me to feel all out-of-sorts for ages!” he said.

“That’s it?” you said.

“That’s it,” he said. “Hug?”

Ordinarily, you would’ve said no, but you were so weepy at the reconciliation that you nodded and let him embrace you, his arms caging you against his chest, holding you to him so that you could not escape.

“Ew!” you shouted when you registered what he was trying to do, shoving him off of you as he cackled and released you without much of a fight. “Gross, Karasu, you’re disgusting! Get away from me! I can’t believe you did that!”

“I can’t believe you fell for it!” he said as you frantically tried to wipe yourself off, though it was largely in vain. In your emotional state, you had forgotten that he was still drenched with sweat from the game, and you were now reaping the consequences of your poor decision making.

“You’re a bad person,” you said.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said. “Whatever you say.”

“I probably deserved that one, though, so I won’t hold it against you,” you said.

“Smart decision,” he said. “Wait. Unrelated, but whatever ended up happening between you and that model dude? What was his name again?”

“Yukimiya? He has a girlfriend,” you said. “Oh, well. What can you do, right? I’m not upset about it. Besides, everyone and their mother thinks I have a boyfriend already, so it’s probably for the best that it worked out like this. I wouldn’t want his modeling career to be ruined by home-wrecking allegations or anything.”

“It must be a pretty serious not-relationship you’ve got there, if it’s the career-ending type,” he said.

“I’d say it’s pretty serious, yes,” you said. “He’s an awesome guy. You’d like him.”

“I’ll respect it, then,” he said. “But…if you ever find yourself not-breaking up with him, then, uh, let me know. I’ll take you on a date somewhere. We can argue and reminisce about the day we met over dinner or something. It’ll be super romantic.”

He said it casually, but you were more familiar with him than either of you ever could’ve predicted you’d be. He was secretly nervous about how big of a risk he had taken, fiddling with the zipper of his soccer bag, avoiding your eyes while he waited for your response. You let the silence stretch on for a minute, just to make him squirm, and then you poked him in the ribs.

“Karasu,” you said.

“What’s up?” he said, and he must’ve been trying very hard to keep his cool, but his anxiety transmitted through the endearing crack of his voice.

“I have to tell you something,” you said.

“Go ahead,” he said.

“I’m not-single now,” you said. “So. Will you take me on a date this weekend?”

He lit up, so bright that you were all but blinded by the brilliance of his joy. Then he cleared his throat and pretended to check the non-existent watch on his wrist.

“You’re in luck,” he said. “That works for me. I’ll pick you up on Saturday for dinner.”

“Great,” you said. “I look forward to it.”

“Hold on, don’t go just yet,” he said. You paused, about to ask him what else he needed when he stooped over and pressed his lips to your cheek. “Thanks for coming to my game. I’m not really sure how you knew I was playing, but I’m glad you could make it either way.”

“Um — uh — Hiori told me, he told me you were playing, and, er, where to go and what time and all,” you stammered, trying to wrap your head around what had just happened, replaying it in your mind over and over.

“Hiori? I should’ve known he’d be the type to meddle like that,” he said. “I’m not even going to ask how you know each other. The answer will probably make me feel vaguely discomfited, so I’ll abide by an ‘ignorance is bliss’ policy.”

“That’s probably for the best,” you said, composing yourself, though internally, you were imagining what it would be like if you had turned your head, if instead of your cheek his lips had landed somewhere else. “Okay, I should go now. See you on Saturday?”

“One last thing. You’re pretty transparent, you know,” he said, grasping your chin in his left hand and leaning in. Your eyelashes fluttered shut as he grew closer and closer, but right when his mouth was a hair’s breadth from yourself, he chuckled. “Also, pretty gullible.”

Instead of kissing you like you had anticipated he would, he tackled you in another hug. You squealed in protest, but he held fast, his body rumbling with laughter as you simultaneously struggled to escape and clung onto him as tightly as you could.

“I hate you,” you said when your half-hearted efforts proved to be entirely futile.

“Sure you do,” he said.

“You’re the worst,” you said.

“Absolutely,” he said.

“I’m being serious here. You smell!” you said.

“Well, that’s plain rude of you to say,” he said, messing up your hair in what you were sure he deemed to be a punishment, as if being crushed against his sweaty form wasn’t punishment enough.

“Let go of me, you idiot crow!” you said.

“No can do,” he said. “Crows are clingy birds, you know. Even the idiotic ones. Ask me again in twenty years and maybe we can revisit the issue.”

“Karasu!”

#karasu x reader #karasu x y/n #karasu x you #karasu tabito #bllk x reader #bllk #blue lock #academic rivals to lovers #reader insert #m1ckeyb3rry milestone #m1ckeyb3rry writes

209 notes · View notes

icypantherwrites · 6 months ago

Note

hi hello I normally do asks anonymously but I wanted you to personally know

I found you a couple days ago i believe and oh my god. Are you like, an angel?? Dude. You’ve written over 200 works, nearly 90% of them being in the vld fandom. I feel like no one gives you enough credit for your contributions to fanfic, especially in the vld fandom. I can’t even begin to think of 20 ideas for a fanfic. You’ve had probably over thousands. You are genuinely one of the most talented writers I’ve ever come across. I love how you write angst and pain. It’s done so in a way that can hurt you so deeply yet leave you wanting for more. Just perfectly encapsulated what it is like to read angst because you did it. in a way that clearly shows you understood the assignment. I love how you write yearning and internal turmoil. I love how you write rising tension and build up anticipation. It leaves me on the edge of my seat every time and I get so excited every time something super important happens. I love how you write each of the characters’ relationships with one another. It can literally feel so personal to see them interact. my favs of yours are probably keith and shiro <and> lance and hunk. You are such a great writer and I don’t think you get enough recognition or appreciation because oh my god. Every time I read your works it is just masterpiece after masterpiece. And the way you end them?? You know just how to make an ending to a story so satisfactory. Because you write the beginning to be satisfactory. You write the middle to be satisfactory. You write every single chapter, paragraph, sentence, and word to make sure that the story concludes in a way that leaves you feeling content. I am genuinely always baffled at how godly your writing is. How you never get any credit where it is clearly due is completely insane. You have done wonders in this world, even if it just seems like a little corner of it. You were here. And you did good for so many. You are so amazing and I don’t know how many ways I could possibly tell that to you. If you ever were to write an original work I would make sure to personally buy ten thousand copies all on my own. Because I know damn well that if you wrote it, it is going to be one of the best pieces of literature ever written. You are so. So. So so so so so so so so soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo amazing. And awesome. And cool. And great.

So much love.

You are incredible.

🩷🩷

So I would like to preface this response by noting that I've had regular asks closed for the last few months due to just a lot of negative feelings with the entitlement behind the asks, and anonymous asks closed for the last year due to various reasons but the most common one being trolls and hate mail. Following a recent livestream on my Patreon I kind of said screw it, let's just see how it goes again and opened them and so the fact that this absolute sweetheart gem of an ask is the first thing I get not even two days later is just... wow, thank you. I've only read this like ten times now.

I just wanted to say this comment makes me feel very seen and appreciated and all of the kind words are backed up by the fact I do indeed recognize your name (so I am glad you didn't submit this as anon!) as having popped into a number of my stories over the past week or so and leaving such sweet comments. It truly means a lot. And as an aside, I am very excited to see you (hopefully) back for the final chapters of Missing as (ironically) a lot of the audience went missing the last few ;p So I do hope you enjoy it and would love to hear your thoughts there! As you observed, it's definitely a bit of a rough go to put all this time and effort into writing and sharing my works and not really seeing a lot of folks engaging with the stories any more, but I'm still trying my best to post for as long as I can. And readers like yourself are the reason I do try to continue to do so 🧡

I also just wanted to highlight of this entire highlight of a comment the little bit you mentioned about how I end stories. Thank you. I strive really hard to not just 'finish' a story but to wrap up every tangent and every little loose thread into a pretty bow so nothing ever feels unfinished and it's not always an easy thing to do. But I've read plenty of stories where it just ends and it's like, but wait, it was so abrupt, it feels incomplete, and I don't ever want anyone to feel that way reading my stories.

I have unfortunately given up my dream of writing my own original novel as I've lost a lot of faith in my abilities due to the continual decrease of engagement and just feeling like nothing I ever write will be good enough, but thank you so much for the encouragement and the kind words. I don't think it'll ever happen, but if it does I'll for sure post a link to purchase my novel on Tumblr ;p

I could gush about all the little, beautiful details you wrote in this for hours but I will cut myself off here. But thank you, truly, for such a sweet message and kind words and I do hope to continue to see you in the comment sections of my stories for the little bits of sunshine you bring into my life🧡

#icyanswers #writing #fanfiction

15 notes · View notes

lexygabe · 1 year ago

Text

tora aikawa / twisting tiger headcanons/rewriting/etc.

(march/11/1990)

pisces sun | virgo moon | aquarius rising

INFP - 9w8 - sx/so - 974 - ESI - RLUAI - EFVL - Melancholic-Phlegmatic

general headcanons:

• trans masc, he/him, gayace,

• nobody cares but his sexuality headcanons were made by me when i was mad at wattpad bitches infantalizing him and making him their uwu japanese anime boyfriend,

• also he is little gremlin man before anybody start treating him as omg so cute trans boy hahaha gay baby. nah, he will kick you directly in the balls (even if you don't have them) and he will do this with pleasure,

• as a kid he was creepypasta enjoyer (he tortured miko with them when he was trying to sleep),

• philosophy nerd, not only into "asian philosophy", but philosophy in general. marxism, stoicism, nihilism, epicureanism, etc. everything,

• he reads this big fucking books weighing tons and they are always the craziest shit ever like "the idiot" by fyodor dostoevsky,

• i think he is russian literature fan in general,

• i think he had something that we could describe as depressive episodes, but he was never diagnosed with it til adulthood. and to be honesg tiger himself thought that everyone have felt something like that from time to time,

• probably has light ptsd,

• his friendships with nakama players (besides his and miko bond) aren't that strong like they used to. this is "when both of you start to distancing from each other and you become strangers to each other" situation, (he misses them)

• he self expressing himself very often in form of his new tricks, but also in his writing (he has a lot of notebooks with multiple essays),

• loves cartoons,

• <energy drinks3,

• he has keyhole top surgery type of scars,

• he become strika member after his whole transition journey,

• when doc got his medical results he was a little bit confused bcs birth certificate said that tiger is afab, so he informed coach about it,

• some day after training coach took tiger aside and told him that if anybody's gonna have problem with his identity, he will talk to them and he also asked tiger if he was capable of informing him or doc about his problems/health,

• rasta was first to know, bcs he and tiger went out for a beer together once and tiger started pointing out on his chest and telling a whole story totally drunk. the next day rasta walked up to him and asked in friendly-jokingly way is it safe for him to remove his muscle breasts, to which tiger replied with laugh,

• besides rasta, coach and doc. shakes, klaus and probably whole reserve players bench know about him,

• y'all will eat me (for speaking the truth) but matador, joe and north don't know about the fact that he is trans. bcs north definitely says f/aggot at least once a day, el is this cis lgb+ stereotype in tigers eyes (even tho matador doesn't care about gender identity, if you are hot, then you are hot and you will have to deal with his interest in you) and joe may perceive tiger differently when he would come out (again, this is how tiger feels about him),

• he is very critical of the sigma male trend and whole "sigma" idea in general, he even done a research and watched and read american psycho and fight club (yeah ik this is so random),

• idealist. he is close with his feelings and morality, so he assumes very often that everyone controls their own emotions like him,

• he is both idealist and skeptic,

• texts >>>>>>> voice messages/video calls,

• had religion crisis,

• he develops his trust to people very slowly,

• has mulitple accounts on twitter and makes the best trolling posts out there,

• he has decent knowledge about politics,

• watches kdramas when bored,

• he was wearing brackets in the past,

• has a lot of collections (like gadgets from chips' wrappers, TALISMANS, jewelry, figurines), but he is not obsessed about them,

• has tattoos like this:

• DEFINITELY HAS SOMETHINGG FROM HYPERMOBILITY SPECTRUM. that's why he is so flexible.

throught the series (og tv show, rewriting):

• [—] is waiting to be completed.

relationship with:

• miko: ik a lot of you ships them, but they are platonic to me.

they are like brothers. sometimes they fight for dear life and the other time they send each other funny memes at 3 am. in my head, both of them didn't have a great family dynamic, so they stayed together late at night.

miko was more easy going, so he was always worried about tiger when something happened to him. they aren't ashamed to show their love to each other.

• inyo: when they were kiddos she truly loved him in the most sisterly way you can think of. both of them are very careful when it comes to developing relations so they become very important to each other. it hurt when they had no contact with each other for years and then they become super league enemies (they never even have a talk after this).

• rasta: tiger is welcomed in rasta's house and tiger is always open to do something for rasta in return. buddies.

• cool joe: its complicated. on the one hand they are good friends and joe considers tiger as one of the most normal mates in their team, but they still have that unresolved tension that prevents them from deepening their relationship further.

• others: ?

fashion headcanons:

• smokey eye makeup supremacy,

• TW SCARYASS PRINTED SHIRT. he wears t-shirts with the most obscure shit on them

• his style is something between grunge, gothic and alt,

• he wears platform shoes to look taller than he actually is,

• some examples of his fits:

music headcanons:

• soft rock!! (car seat headrest is his beloved), j-pop, mcr & bôa.

NSFW:

• had a tdick at the time when he was playing for nakama,

• is into t4t relationships, bcs every cis gay guy he had thing for were super weird about him and either have had internalized transphobia or specific fantasies that crossed his boundaries of comfort,

• tldr give this man a trans bf so he could have the most non sexual intercourse.

#supa strikas #headcanon: supa strikas #supa strikas twisting tiger #supablr #text: supa strikas

50 notes · View notes

sheisburiedhere · 1 year ago

Text

Mr. President - Mateo x Y/N

(Hiya this is another story that I'm moving over here from my wattpad account)

You're not much of a writer nor a reader,but since you joined this club, that you didn't know included both writing and reading, you set out to write your second assignment , a poem but you wanted to take Satori's advice and use language techniques in order to impress one of the guys in the club.

That guy was the one and only president of the Literature club, Mateo. You couldn't stop thinking about him,his charming ways ,good looks and leadership skills always secretly had a hold on your heart,even though he was like an condescending ass ever since you knew him, you always had a crush on him for the small gestures he did for you like that time he saved you from getting detention.

So you wrote while thinking of him...

The next day at the Literature Club

"Okay I think it's time for us to share our poems today," Mateo announced. Before he could say anything else you run up to him to give him your poem.

"Ah y/n so I take it that you wrote your poem?" He questioned surprised to see how enthusiastic you was to let him read it. You nod excitedly. "I hope it's readable this time," he said with a smirk. You rolled your eyes blushing as he take the paper from your hand . His fingers brushing against yours made you feel a tingly sensation inside your cheeks.

Mateo didn't notice your response to any of his normal actions.

Mateo's Mind-" I hope it's not the childish gibberish that that pink hair midget likes, cause I swear it's so easy to tell from writing what some one is thinking about and yesterday she was either really an amateur or was thinking about that manga troll"

You watched as he began to read the poem and his eyes widen and his cheeks are tinted red.

Mateo's Mind-" This couldn't possibly be for me😳 could it ? Could she really feel the same way? NoNo I must be overthinking this poem, It must be for that bloody Satori🤔.."

He reads the poem and you realised he isn't responding.

"Ah Mateo?I'm sorry if you don't like it ," you said slightly disappointed. "I made it for you, to show you how I feel about you," you shyly smiled.

His eyes moves from the paper to meet yours. Now your scared ,he's probably going to make fun of you and the poem. "This is so beautiful y/n ,I can't believe you feel the same way , I appreciate this so much ,May I keep this?" His eyes shine brightly and smile couldn't be missed. You blush wide eyed while agreeing , he grabs your hands ,fingers interlocked and asks, "May I kiss you?". You nod still blushing as his lips gently met yours.

You two totally forgot about the three other members in the classroom, well not really both of you ,Mateo didn't ,He wanted them to see who you belong to.

Those three aren't gonna give up easily, but Mateo will make sure nothing becomes between you and him.

Cause you are his.

Word count (521 words)

Sorry for any more grammatical errors than usual it's 3:06am and my brain is wacked

Goodnightt

#doki doki literature club #doki doki switcheroo mod #satori #mateo #yurri #natsuko

6 notes · View notes

nostalgebraist · 2 days ago

Text

Thank you for sharing this!

I haven't read through your full commentary line-for-line yet, but what I've read so far has been typically thoughtful, wide-ranging and incisive. (And from I could tell, your assessment of the book's relative strong and weak points is pretty close to my own.)

Already in my quick and partial breeze-through of the notes, I saw plenty of things that I want to respond to – often, but not always, questions (or implicit questions) whose answers I know.

I hope I'll have the spoons sometime soon to go through and write out these responses in full. At the moment, though, the depressive funk I mentioned in the tags of my last post makes it pretty hard to write anything at all, and doubly so if I'm writing about this book.

I will, however, write a few quick notes on topics where just a few words from me are capable of going a long way.

These may also be of more general interest – but only to people who have finished the book, as they contain full (if indirect) spoilers:

First: in a few places, you wonder whether or not I am personally an "AI doomer."

As it happens, I am not. But for the purposes of the book, that doesn't matter: the relevant aspects of the book began life in a moment earlier this year when I asked myself, "okay, what if the AI doomers were right (about what was going to happen) – what then?" And then I just thought about that question for a while.

In the book – as in that particular sequence of my own thoughts – "AI doom" is being used as a premise, a jumping-off point, in a way that disregards its actual likelihood of occurrence in the real world.

Second, about the events at the end of "Of Nativity."

You write "I cannot bring myself to be happy at this conclusion," saying later that it "left a bad taste in [your] mouth" and go on to (rightly) ask why the seemingly nigh-all-powerful AI nonetheless poses such a curiously narrow, all-or-nothing dilemma.

I won't go into much story-level detail now, but I do want to say that

(a) The ending is absolutely meant to be deeply unsettling, even disturbing.

Although the emotional tone of the narration in this section is very positive – ecstatic, triumphant – we know nonetheless that even Herschel himself has more conflicted feelings than that tone would suggest on its own.

(Consider the repeated refrain earlier on about how helpless he feels in the face of the Intercessor, how he senses that even his own freely-willed actions will somehow end up serving the latter's "purposes" – a theme which is picked up again, sort of, in the bit about the Intercessor "fitting himself to [Herschel's] size" in his board-game playing. Or, more straightforwardly, H's use of the word "enormity" when referring to his decision.)

And beyond that, of course, there's no reason the reader should feel compelled to "buy" H's framing of the situation. My hope was that the reader would relate to H at this point much as they had for much of the rest of the book (if the rest of the book had landed the way I'd hoped). They'd empathize with him; they'd see, really see, the ways in which his vision really is beautiful and poignant – but they would not straightforwardly "buy what he's selling," and would feel deeply ill at ease even (or especially) at the moments when H professes to be overjoyed.

(b) As much as it is anything else, "Of Nativity" is an attempt to depict a mystical experience.

The word "apocalypse" in the title obviously has multiple meanings; one of them is the original meaning, the genre of religious literature. "Of Nativity" is a fictitious work in this genre, an "Apocalypse of Herschel Schoen" in the same sense that is meant in titles like "Apocalypse of Zephaniah" or "Apocalypse of Peter."

I say this mainly to clarify why I wanted to write such a "deeply unsettling, even disturbing" ending. I'm not just trolling, here – writing a fucked-up "Christmas story" released on Christmas day just to fuck with people. (Not that you said I was, I course.)

What I am doing is (attempting to) depict a profound religious experience. And profound religious experiences are often, well... deeply unsettling, even disturbing. Even if the experiencer ends up mentally wrapping the whole thing up inside some doctrinal package that seems to contain it, to "explain" it, to "make sense of it"... nonetheless, they are going to feel shaken afterwards. (Cf. H's remarks in "Of Nativity" about trembling before the divine.)

Even if the conceptual content of the revelation appears to be uncomplicated "good news" – which is often not in fact the case! – the experience itself is uncomfortable and humbling, a lightning bolt from the beyond, a glimpse of something which (in one sense or another) human beings are not "supposed to" witness, and which human beings may not (in one sense or another) be able to withstand witnessing.

In the "Revelator's Preface," H writes:

Men today find the prophets strange, and think that it is because they are marvelous that they are strange; that the one thing comes naturally with the other. The prophets are marvelous, but they are not strange.

Setting aside H's characteristically contrary last point – in "Of Nativity," I was trying to write something that was "marvelous" in the same way that "the prophets are marvelous" according to H here. (Man, when I put it like that, I sound so absurdly ambitious... but what can I say? My goals are my goals; I don't quite know where they come from.)

And – cf. the Jeremiah dialogue – this is a very dark sort of "marvelousness" that we're going for, here.

(I admit, of course, that the original Christmas story did not belong to this genre of Biblical literature – unfortunately for my whole "Christmas story" framing gimmick!)

EDIT: oh, one other thing – that stray "he" pronoun for the ant was in fact a continuity error, which I have since edited out! (It's a remnant of an early attempt to write that sequence in which the ant really was male – an attempt which never got very far, as I quickly realized the error of my ways, but which left behind in the manuscript this unintended trace of its brief existence.)

My Review & Commentary of The Apocalypse of Herschel Schoen

This post contains two reviews of The Apocalypse of Herschel Schoen, a new novel by Rob aka @nostalgebraist.

Above the fold is a short, comprehensive review, intended mainly for general audiences. This review is spoiler-free.

Below the fold is over 70 pages (~40k words, some of which are book excerpts) of line-by-line real-time commentary, intended mainly for Rob. This review contains full spoilers. Do not click on “Keep Reading” if you do not want spoilers.

My Review of The Apocalypse of Herschel Schoen

The basic proposition is that this is a Christmas story. No surprise; that’s why Rob published it on Christmas after a furious push to be done on-time. The story takes place more or less entirely within the month of December of an unspecified year, and the passage of the month is the progression of the story. It is divided mainly between two narrators: Herschel Schoen, and his sister Miriam Schoen, the latter existing mainly to contextualize the former (which she herself notes with some resentment).

The plot is a fairly straightforward Les Miserables style pressure cooker of growing personal and societal wretchedness bent around the equally-growing idea of some grand, world-changing, revolutionary transformation that is imminent—in this case, supposedly on Christmas. It’s a decent plot, but the plot isn’t the principal reason to engage with the story, in my opinion, and in any case it’s not what most of the novel actually consists of.

For principal reasons to read this fairly hefty thing, I think there are two:

First, and probably the more important of the two, is that The Apocalypse of Herschel Schoen is a veritable case study in the lived experience of someone (Herschel) whose brain works and perceives reality very differently from the human norm. He is high-functioning but still quite disabled and deeply mentally ill. “Case study” sounds clinical; this is actually a fairly warm, humanized story—with some very touching moments peppered throughout. But the sheer effort Rob made to depict Herschel’s mindset and thinking for the benefit of the reader is absolutely a tour de force in psychology. I’ve never read anything like it, and, if you read this book for no other reason than its “clinical” value, you would not be wrong to do so.

Second, and the more personally meaningful of the two reasons, is that this book gives you the opportunity to get “Herschel’s side” of things. I used biomedical terms just now to describe Herschel, but that’s not entirely fair, and it’s not the only way to look at him. We all have our reasons for being how we are. And we all of us, even those who are highly neurodivergent ourselves, often look at those whose minds work very differently from our own through the lens of division: them versus us. There is a failure to empathize, to understand, to even give ourselves the chance to understand. Herschel has built up, over the course of his short sixteen years on the Earth, this extraordinary paracosm, his “little world” as Miriam calls it, which he believes in totally and which he projects onto the real world completely. And this paracosm is very similar to the real world in many ways,which causes and/or exacerbates many of Herschel’s social developmental problems. (And we have his sister, Miriam Schoen, throughout the book, to gently lampshade all of this and keep us from accidentally conflating Herschel’s worldview with Rob’s narrative, which ultimately are two separate things.) I think The Apocalypse of Herschel Schoen is highly validating of Herschel Schoen; I think that it dignifies him heavily, and all such people in the real world whose “special needs” can be compared to his; even though this book also displays in full detail many of the things about people like Herschel Schoen that so often make us cringe. Herschel is cringeworthy quite often, and his delusional paracosm may just be a delusional paracosm after all, but he—and it—are not illegitimate.

There is a third reason to engage, one with a much more niche appeal, but personally it was my favorite thing about the book: Herschel speaks in the “old” style. We often describe it as a “biblical” style of speech (e.g., “And he went out, and smote his enemy at the bridge, and laid waste to his temples, until all the love of fighting had bled out from its defenders, and the enemy’s people were subdued in shame and despair.”), but it’s really just how a lot of English writing used to be done. Tolkien could do it, and it’s in many of the old classics. I absolutely LOVE this style of writing. Love love love it, and I am always wanting to see more of it in the present day, but of course nobody but me even dares try. Well, here we go: Rob tried it! He pulls off this outrageous shit for the entire book! What you see in Herschel’s style of speech and thought in the first few pages is what you get for the whole count. It’s legendary! I love it! But if you don’t love it, then beware.

Thematically, this is a Christmas story, like I said. It’s a family story, with an especially strong focus on the brother–sister bond between Herschel and big sister Miriam. Another theme is that it’s a pretty anti-capitalist story—though I think this theme, and its literal treatment in the text and especially in character dialogue, was not integrated super well or executed authentically; it works okay on the meta level as a way of setting the conditions for the story, but on the literal level I found its exponents very anti-immersive in their dialogue, almost cartoonish. A third noteworthy theme is that there are some occasional matters of artificial intelligence (it’s part of how Herschel defines his “Adversary” early in the book), because this is nostalgebraist after all and we would expect such things. A fourth significant theme is that this is quite a “New York story,” the kind of story set in New York [City], written by someone who has been a New Yorker, and which for all intents and purposes treats New York as the center of, and nearly the entirety of, the Universe. This book has a lot of deliberate non-specificity in culture and language, presumably to make it timeless, but New York is there effortlessly, because, in New York stories, New York City is a fundamental property of the Universe.

I would be remiss not to mention a few pain points on my part:

First and foremost, Rob’s use of italics and, to a lesser extent, ALLCAPS, is exhausting. Italics function like commas in that they slow down the parsing of text. If you actually do parse italicizations loyally, as I do, and do not simply skip over them as visual noise, then this book might be extremely laborious for you to physically read, as it was for me. I am a deep admirer and avid user of italics myself, but this novel takes italicization almost to its furthest useful extreme possible, well beyond the limits of fine proportionality, and the italics’ sheer preponderance vastly slows down my parsing of the narrative. Nor is there much of a reprieve in the chapters where Miriam is narrating; she’s exactly the same way. In fact basically everyone in the book talks like this. I don’t reject the creative decision to utilize italics in this manner; it’s a valid creative decision; I only caution you that, if you take the italics and allcaps respectfully, they will seriously slow down your pace of reading—as they did for me.

Second, I recommend that you not worry about the time period in which this book is set. Rob made it deliberately vague and contradictory, but he didn’t telegraph this (that I saw), and so I was frustrated throughout almost the entire book trying to pin down when it was set. Turns out its time period doesn’t matter for story purposes, and can’t be dated anyway since there are anachronisms deliberately put into the milieu to make dating impossible. It’s got a little of everything from the 1950s through the present day. So, don’t worry about it. This pain point is my only truly negative large-scale criticism of the story in its entirety (though the unconvincing quality of some of the anti-capitalist dialogue is also a truly negative criticism, merely much more limited in applicability, and there are other serious negative criticisms I have which become manifest in the spoiler commentary below the fold).

Third, I would say that the third quartile of the book is harder to read than the rest. In large part this is because Miriam’s narrative becomes as exhausting as her brother’s as her own suffering increases, but it is exhausting in a completely different way, and the two different exhaustions interfere constructively to make something even more exhausting. The long chapters in particular—most of the book’s word count is contained in a few very long chapters—are quite exhausting indeed for reading in one sitting, so if your mind slows down or wanders I would recommend getting up and doing other things, then coming back with a fresh mind later. The text would really benefit from your full and energetic attention, otherwise I think this book becomes enough of a slog to become antagonistic to the reader. But with a fresh mind, this problem largely goes away. And I must say: This pain point is not a negative criticism. This is the price of engaging with smart work, sometimes. As with the use of italics and allcaps, I see no creative failing on Rob’s part here. You just have to do your part, make your effort, to be in a suitable frame of mind to receive it.

Overall, I enjoyed this book. I did not enjoy it as much as The Northern Caves, Rob’s other novel that I have read, because that book contains Leonard Salby’s glorious indecipherable writing, which has been a major creative inspiration for me. The Apocalypse of Herschel Schoen has lots to offer, however. Be aware that it is a heavy read, not a light one, and thus it is draining. Rob is a rare treat of an author in that his work is highly intellectual (rare all on its own!) without being literarily pretentious and snobby—but this means that it is no trivial thing to read and absorb his work. Also to his credit, this book kept me guessing all the way through, which I appreciate—I respect it when plots and characters refuse to let me put them in a container early on. And of course this book contained all of the good things I have already said about it.

DO NOT click “Keep Reading” unless you are prepared for spoilers, bad formatting, and the wailing and gnashing of teeth of confronting 70 pages of commentary.

Psych! 73 pages is way too much for Tumblr's post limits. Here is a Google Doc instead:

This document will be available online for the time being but may not be public indefinitely, so feel free to download a copy if you like.

#the apocalypse of herschel schoen

16 notes · View notes

mari-writes · 3 years ago

Text

🦉❤️☀️

At first Akaashi thinks it must be a mistake.

He stares hard at the email displayed on his laptop. He’s already read the message twice, but he’s having trouble believing that this isn’t all a dream.

Blinking, he reads it one last time:

Akaashi Keiji,

We are pleased to offer you the position of Writer and Co-Editor in our Literature and Creative Writing department. We believe you will be a valuable addition to our team and are excited to welcome you to the company. If you choose to accept the position, you will start Monday, April 25. HR will contact you with more information on the hiring process and your relocation to Osaka. Thank you, and we hope to hear back from you soon.

The signature of the company’s CEO follows. Akaashi scrolls up again, double checking that the email is definitely from him and not some online troll.

“Oh my god,” he croaks, finally allowing himself to react. “Oh my god!” He sits up quickly, chair tipping backwards and crashing loudly to the floor. He sends a silent apology to his downstairs neighbors as he bolts to his bedroom in search of his phone.

Bokuto picks up on the third ring. “Babe! I was just about to call you! You’ll never believe what Tsum-Tsum did…”

“Kou.”

“He embarrassed himself in front of fans again!” Bokuto cackles. “One asked him if he could do a handstand, and—”

“Koutarou.”

“—of course he immediately tried, but he fell! He’s fine, he’s not hurt, just his pride—“

“Bokuto-san!” Akaashi doesn’t use the formal address much anymore, only when he needs to get his boyfriend’s attention. It works. Bokuto immediately stops rambling.

“Sorry, love," Akaashi lowers his voice. "It’s just… I have something to tell you.” The moment the news leaves Akaashi’s lips, he hears a loud sound on Bokuto’s end. Apparently he’d fallen out of his bed.

The man is suddenly breathing heavily, tripping over his words. “K-Keiji… So, um, does this mean, um, y-you’ll be moving down here?"

Akaashi bites his lip. He grips his phone with shaky hands, desperately wishing he could see the look on the other man’s face. “Yes.” He swallows nervously. “I'll be there in less than three weeks.”

A few beats of silence pass and then, finally, Bokuto speaks. His voice is nervous and so, so small.

“Do you… I mean, would you like to, um, live with me?”

They had already talked about this. Many times, actually. The new job was a dream, for sure, but it also meant he could move to Osaka. Bokuto had renewed his contract with the Black Jackals indefinitely. It's perfect timing.

They both know this. They’ve been together for so long. Moving in together has always been inevitable.

And yet, Bokuto still has the attentiveness to ask. To make sure Akaashi really wants it. To be certain he is addressing all of Akaashi’s needs and wants.

He’s the sweetest human being in the entire world, Akaashi thinks. How lucky that he chose Akaashi to share his life.

“Of course, Koutarou.” He falls backwards onto his blankets. “You do too, right?”

Bokuto lets out a delighted giggle; a strange noise from such a large man. “Totally! Oh wow, I’m so happy right now, Keiji! Like, I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy in my life!”

Akaashi doesn’t think he’s ever felt this giddy. Honestly, it’s almost embarrassing how he suddenly feels as dopey as he had in high school. “Yeah,” he breathes, turning his head into his pillow shyly. “Me too.”

Moving isn’t easy. Bokuto is busy with the team and unable to make a special trip to Tokyo to help with loading. For such a small apartment, Akaashi has sure accumulated a lot of stuff. (Truthfully, most of it is books and coffee mugs.)

A few friends do help out. Kuroo and Kenma, Yukie and Konoha show up with a moving van and help him form a strategy. And, best of all, one of Bokuto’s sisters offers to help him drive to Osaka.

When they arrive at the apartment building, Bokuto is already waiting outside. Akaashi jumps out of the car and runs to his boyfriend, leaping into his arms, and the man spins him around till they’re both dizzy.

Akaashi can’t help it. He pulls the other man into a firm kiss, not caring they are in broad daylight on a busy street. Bokuto eagerly reciprocates.

“Okay lovebirds, that’s enough.” Bokuto’s sister sighs, smiling exasperatedly. “We’ve got a lot of work to do. You can make out all you want tonight. When I’m far, far away.”

Hours later, all of Akaashi’s belongings have successfully been moved into Bokuto’s small one-bedroom flat. Bokuto’s sister has left for a hotel. They are finally alone.

“I can’t believe it.” Bokuto grins, hands sliding up Akaashi’s back. Akaashi is currently straddling the other man on his couch, playing with his two-tone locks lazily. “You’re really here. For good this time!”

Akaashi smiles. “I am.”

For the first time ever, their lives are one. No more long distance. No more worrying about work schedules or other commitments getting in the way of seeing each other. No more sad goodbyes and counting down days to their next meeting.

Now, they can come home to each other. Fall asleep and wake up side by side. Even if they other is away for a trip, they’ll always find their way back here.

“I’m all in.” Bokuto’s voice is soft but firm. A serious expression settles on his features. “You know that, right Keiji? This is it for me. I… well, I want to spend my life with you. All of it—the good, the bad, everything! I’m all in!”

Akaashi’s jaw drops slightly. He blinks, amazed at his boyfriend’s innate ability to speak his truth so openly, with his whole heart. It’s something Akaashi has always admired about him.

“Kou,” he says, and he can’t help the tremble in his voice. He leans down, pressing their foreheads together, hoping the gesture will convey that yes, he feels the exact same way, he wants that too.

Bokuto and Akaashi have always been partners. From the first day they stood on a volleyball court together to when they first started dating. Through Akaashi time at university and stressful jobs, to Bokuto being scouted for his first professional team, multiple Olympics...

And now, finally, joining their lives.

Akaashi can't wait to see what's next.

Happy BokuAka Day! Thanks everyone for continuing to support me despite my ongoing challenges. 🙏❤️ Work has taken over my life so much that I can't write as easily. But I hope this conveyed how much I still love this ship. 😊 Please, if you enjoyed, please comment and/or reblog!

#bokuaka #HAPPY BOKUAKA DAY #bokuaka day 2022 #bokuto koutarou #akaashi keiji #my writing #drabble #fanfiction #haikyuu!!

67 notes · View notes

the-evil-duckling · 4 years ago

Text

And now that Pride Month's over, Let's Talk About Pratchett.

The companies have taken down their flags. The marches and rallies are fading away. Rainbow colours are melting back into grayscale. And now that all the hubbub is dying down, let's talk about an author who did perhaps more than any other to introduce gender-and-sexual minorities to the public (and not just as a cute oddity to be cooed at from a distance, either).

Let's talk about an author whose works are perhaps the most representative, hard-hitting, and wholesome, in all of well-written English literature.

Let's talk about Pratchett.

Before we dive into the lovely little nitty-gritties, I want to just take a quick look at what Pratchett's writing really is, and what makes it so very exceptional. It's pretty simple, really.

He's funny.

That's the "secret" formula to Terry Pratchett's success across the global; he's funny everywhere, everywhen, across multiple generations and multiple decades and multiple geopolitical borders. You don't have to read Discworld with a lot of effort, thinking deeply after every line about the message the author is trying to convey. You don't have to analyze every character and every situation to see how the author is sculpting a crystal-clear mirror and holding it up to the face of Society. When I'm feeling down (cause college and life and pressure and dreams) and wanna start gouging out my forearms with my nails, I can just curl with one of my comfort books (like Men At Arms, or Unseen Academicals) and laugh and chuckle and just feel better. You can just enjoy it.

Now, I think, I can get to the fun stuff; analysing all of my favourite characters and the roles that they represent in mirroring Pratchett's view of People. (I should mention at this point that I am mainly going to be focussing on the Sam Vimes novels, and what I will be writing are my own thoughts and opinions. Anyone who knows more - or has just read/interpreted the books differently - is of course free to add their own musings.)

Fred Colon: Sergeant Colon is that rarest and yet most typical of things: Fred Colon is an ordinary person. He is no hero, or genius, or leader. He is not evil or even mildly malicious. And that is the very point that needs to be understood. People (most people) are not deliberately evil; they are, on the whole, fairly decent people who treat their friends well and try not to make enemies. It is just... petty selfishness, petty prejudices, petty apathy... all summated in every single member of the populace, and suddenly everyone knows that dwarfs are just money-grubbing bastards who'd bite your kneecaps off for a copper coin and trolls are dumber than the rocks they're made off but they'll as soon smash you to pulp as look at you and you can't trust a vampire cause they're too dead to be alive and-

Carrot Ironfoundersson: Captain Carrot is a cliché. Captain Carrot is a cliché wrapped inside a trope hidden in a Mary Sue, all turned on its head. Captain Carrot, rightful heir to the throne of Ankh, leader of all manner of beings, man who once beat Detritus in a fistfight... is not the hero of this story. In any other series, the story would have been of a brave new cop (who is also the king) standing up to the corruption and lawlessness of the Patrician while taking advice from his grizzled old half-drunk commander who dies four chapters into the first book with some vaguely portentous words that the hero remembers at the very last minute to give him the tools/strength/motivation necessary to keep fighting. But this is Pratchett. And the hero of the story, if there is one, is very much the grizzled old commander. Two other points have also always struck me about Carrot. The first is the matter of identity. Biologically, Carrot is very much a human, but in all other ways that matter he is entirely a dwarf - his name is Kzad-bhat, and even the deep-down dwarfs do not question his dwarfishness - and yet that does make him any less a human. In this is reflected the multiplicity of identity (not just of gender, which is what most people immediately jump to, but all identities). The second point is of the relationship between Carrot and Angua, which seemed to me a representation of a healthy dom/sub relationship. Unlike the twisted shit we find on ao3 (and in some published books that I don't feel that I need to name), Angua is at no point portrayed as lesser, weaker, incapable, dependent, or deferent. She is her own person, and the two of them just happen to have this kind of chemistry.

Samuel Vimes: Ahhhh. His Grace, His Excellency, The First Duke of Ankh, Blackboard Monitor Samuel Vimes, Commander of the City Watch. The protagonist, if not quite the hero, of the series. He is not perfect, not even close. He is casually discriminatory (species-ist?) and thoughtless in most of what he says. his saving graces are that his discrimination is universally applied at all beings living and dead, and that he has never, not even once, allowed his personal feelings of prejudice stand in the way of justice (which is at times, all that separates him from Fred Colon). Does that mean that it's all okay, and everything is now fine and dandy and hunky-dory? No. Not even fucking close. Words matter and actions matter and even how you feel deep inside - all of it matters. Prejudice is prejudice, and it is always wrong. there are no mitigating circumstances, no 'yes, but...' that can make it acceptable. But only an idealistic idiot would say that it is not better than the alternative. And this is the reason that Vimes is one of my favourite protagonists; he is not a hero. He is real.

Leonard of Quirm: A parody of the public perception of a genius (perhaps of Roundworld's Tesla and da Vinci), I have loved Leonard as a character ever since I realised he was gay. Allow me to elaborate. As I was recently re-reading Jingo, I noticed a line that went something like 'He started drawing how The-Going-Under-The-water-Safely-Device could be improved, piloted by a muscular man who was not overdressed'. And just like that, a couple dozen other off-hand comments slotted into place and I realized the homosexual truth. And I love this portrayal of homosexuality, because most books or movies or tv shows or fanfictions with a gay MC (or even sidekick) tend to have a storyline roughly equivalent to 'hey my name is [insert name here] and I'm GAY and I have a destiny to save the world and my family and my GAY boyfriend whom I'm dating cause I'm GAY and before I go outside I have to pick my outfit really carefully better go with salmon-rose-flutter pink cause I'm GAY and now I'm outside and I'm not very popular and this is my tragic backstory cause a lot of people don't like me cause I'm GAY and-' Yeah. This is not good writing. By barely mentioning anything, Pratchett somehow still managed to emphasise that a) homosexuality is one of your identities, not all of them and b) just because a story has a character who is gay doesn't mean that the story becomes about a character being gay.

Trev Likely: One sentence. Just one sentence. 'Hating people was too much work.'

If you actually made it this far, you are obliged to reblog. I'm sorry, but I don't make the rules. (Please?)

388 notes · View notes

theboarsbride · 3 years ago

Text

Writeblr (re)intro!

Hey Hi Howdy!

My name is Josephine (but feel free to call me Jojo! Pronouns are she/her), I’m currently a 2nd year college student from the United States studying English literature and history, I work two jobs at my school’s library and computer lab, and in my free time I like to write stories! I had started a writing blog about a year ago but lowkey abandoned it, so I thought I’d start fresh with this one! Some aspects of my writing/who I am as a writer have changed since then, so I thought I’d reintroduce myself!💛💛💛

I always love meeting and talking with fellow writers, and I’m always excited to support passion projects! My DMs are always open and I’m always eager to chat! Also feel free to check out my Instagram @ jojo.penguin.art or add me on Discord @ Jojo the Rad Penguin#3942!

About My Writing:

Most of what I write traces inspiration back to two sources: Gothic horror and fairy tales. Both have had an immense influence on me creatively ever since I started writing back in middle school, so in one way or another my stories try to reflect that influence! A lot of my stories are retellings of various fairytales through the lens of Gothic horror as well as with several twists to make the story more unique!

Most of my writing is done at night or at work, but I’m down to talk about stories any time and will often share snippets of stuff (mostly art and aesthetics) on my blog!

Current Projects:

The Monster and the Butterfly | Gothic Romance + Historical/Paranormal Horror + Fairytale Retelling

Whitechapel, London 1894. Sophie Wickes and her family struggle to survive, melancholy eats away at her father more and more with each passing day, and her passion for cultivating flowers brings no income. She must swallow her pride and set aside her hatred for England’s aristocracy when she’s offered a chance of employment by the reclusive Lord Edgar Cushing to tend the gardens of his Rosenthorne Hall. However, the estate, its gardens, and their master is nothing what Sophie expected.

The house? Rotting, dilapidated, hideous.

The gardens? Alive, whimsical, beautiful.

The master? Faceless, nothing more than a voice from the shadows.

Though her heart is filled with fear and anger, Sophie becomes enthralled by the garden’s mystic, untainted beauty and she develops a close friendship with the Lord Cushing, despite him being nothing but a mere whisper of darkness.

However, whatever enchantment the gardens and Lord Cushing’s voice bring her shatters as she begins to receive nightly visitations from a crooked-jawed phantom and butterflies who’s wings whisper of a bloody past and the truth behind the faceless Lord Cushing’s gentlemanly masquerade.

~***~

The Vampire of Shadowed Castle | Gothic Horror + Short Story + Vampire Horror

Local villages know to revere, and fear, Shadowed Castle.

Hunters know not to hunt the game in the surrounding forests, shepherds know not to let their livestock graze in nearby pastures, and wayside travelers know to avoid any paths that are within it’s wretched reach. Everyone knows to stay away from it, to avoid it as though the land itself is infested with the plague out of fear that whatever evil lurks within the darkness. Everyone except Sorina Dalca. She believes the local legends surrounding the Shadowed Castle to be only myths meant to keep children in line, horror stories with no ounce of truth to them. But when she’s forced to enter the cursed castle by a dare, she must struggle to decipher what is all myth and what is all real when she comes face-to-face with the fabled Vampire of Shadowed Castle.

~***~

The Faeries and the Lark | Dark/Gothic Fantasy + Adventure + Romance + Fairytale Retelling

Loosely based on the fairytales Sleeping Beauty and East of the Sun, West of the Moon, as well as Scandinavian folklore, The Faeries and The Lark follows three faeries–spirits of nature–raising a human child they named Lark, the son of a kingdom wiped out by a subterranean society of trolls. The faeries devote their lives to protecting Lark from the worlds of man by raising him to believe he’s one of the fae, and to keep him deep in the forest so that he can remain hidden from the trolls that restlessly hunt for the prince that escaped their massacre.

But everything the three faeries worked hard for is put to the test when Lark encounters a human named Sigrid, the toughened, sword-wielding daughter of a chancellor from a neighboring kingdom that’s threatened by being swallowed by the fairies’ forest.

Other Projects:

The Boar’s Bride: A retelling of Bluebeard’s Bride set in 1980′s America that shows the unorthodox ‘romance’ between a young, naïve painter and an enigmatic, charming millionaire and the horror that follows once they are wed. (This is actually currently being written as a Hannibal fanfic ahdkjdfjdkfjkfjdk)

Mrs. Maturin: A short story that details the real-life encounter between Leila Maturin and Joseph Merrick, AKA The Elephant Man.

Ruth: A folk horror retelling of Little Red Riding Hood where a woman and her partner join her ailing grandmother on a trip to her childhood home in the backwoods of Germany, only to find themselves in the presence of a cult that worship wolf-like beasts that lurk in the shadows. (Think Red Riding Hood meets the 1970s version of The Wicker Man)

The End.

Thank you for taking the time to read through this intro! As I’ve stated above I love talking to and meeting new writers, so feel free to send me dms, asks, etc. or chat with me on other socials listed above! I have a Discord server dedicated to these projects, so if you’re ever interested just lmk and I can dm you a link!

But in the meantime, I hope you enjoy your time here and my constant spam of aesthetics, art, and tags related to my stories!💛💛💛

#writeblr #writeblr intro #intro #writers on tumblr #creative writing #writers supporting writers #gothic horror #fairytale retellings #hobby writing #historical fiction #writeblr introduction #meet the author

48 notes · View notes

maoam · 1 year ago

Note

No one is "afraid" of Karin. We know Kishi doesn't care much for her. He did gave her more decent ending than he did for Sakura, but Sakura is such a low bar.

Saying Sasuke can't be gay because it's a shonen manga is homophobic. Kishi wrote them to be gay in a way that it could pass shonen censors. But they are clearly gay, because they have mutual romantic feelings. They have romance tropes. Kishi referenced romance literature even when it came to them. There is also homoeroticism in the manga in general. Both me and @sneezemonster15 have talked about this endlessly. We have plenty of posts explaining all of this, with references, sources, a lot of time used on research. But you have nothing except your homophobic argument how a shonen character could never be gay. And you are wrong anyway. Ryo is gay, and Kishimoto referenced him as well when it came to Sasuke.

Sasuke showed zero romantic interest in Sakura and Karin. He looked after both of them as teammates. Sakura was always showed as part of team 7 when Sasuke thought about her. The only word he used of her was comrade. As for Karin, even when Sasuke saved her in part 2, he thought about ALL of Taka members, then team 7, and these emotions made him awaken a new power. Not just Karin as an individual. Please read the manga again.

As for his smile? He smiled at Sakura too, in the Chunin exams. See, both SS and SK use these tiny details to argue Sasuke was totally in love with them. Except he wasn't. Neither of them could ever reach out to him, like Naruto did. Sasuke even said by the end Naruto is the only one.

Yes, Sasuke broke his bond with a teammate. Sasuke sacrificed someone who was not part of his revenge. That was why he went on the bad path. Not because he had romantic feelings towards Karin. May I remind that in the beginning of Part 2 Sasuke couldn't even kill the random guys Oro told him to finish off? Because "they aren't the ones I want to kill"?

I love how you need to leech off of Naruto to make Karin relevant, yet you keep saying Sasuke can't be in love with Naruto. Lol. Even your own arguments make it clear who is actually more relevant to Sasuke. And please, neither Sakura or Karin ever understood Sasuke, or tried to understand him. They only kept making advances on him, despite his clear lack of interest.

And please, plenty of people hated Sasuke's apology to Karin, because it was written so poorly by Kishi. Kishi made the whole thing into a joke. SK fans just don't want to see it. Can you imagine Kishimoto treating Naruto like he did Karin after her being stabbed was made into a joke? Comic relief? Oro literally went lolol I was stabbed too, same hat. And then Karin went back to being horny/creepy towards Sasuke like nothing happened. Sasuke wasn't even shown having inner turmoils about the whole thing. Despite Karin is the woman he loves apparently, lol. Because Kishi didn't see it as important enough. He needed the drama so Naruto could have his healing moment with Sasuke, after it was over, he threw Karin away and made her back into a joke.

And Sarada dresses like her and wears glasses to troll SS. That's it.

Kishi has said multiple times that Naruto and Sasuke are close, that they are yin and yang, that he wanted Sasuke to realise Naruto is his biggest ally. So your nonsense arguments how even their friendship is poor don't hold any value. The whole Boruto movie is about Naruto and Sasuke co-parenting Boruto and giving soft looks to each other, and bickering fondly with each other. Did Sasuke ever have a sweet or fond conversation with Sakura and Karin that indicated how well they know each other emotionally? Did he have any heart-to-heart with Sakura or Karin that indicated they knew each other emotionally?

....Yeah, that's what I thought. Plenty of shippers don't understand how romance writing goes, or what relationship development is, they just pick and choose tiny details and blow them out of proportion into something they really aren't.

Wait, what do you mean when you say Sarada's conceiving was shady?

Hi anon.

Reason one - Sakura looks so damn guilty everytime Sarada asks her about Sasuke.

(Ik, sad looking slides, Canva would probably ban me forever if they saw them)

And even generally, like she really wants to keep the facade of her marriage going. She just gives a strong impression like she is hiding something. She looks guilty, like she is worried the truth will come out as a response to Sarada's queries. And she looks sad, but also conciliatory, just resigned to her fate of being a lonely, unloved woman who is lying to her only child.

If there was such a connection, she wouldn't have looked like this. Instead, she would have been assured and calm, confident in her 'connection'. If you know you are loved, if you are secure in the knowledge that you are loved, you wouldn't be fearful of people pointing fingers at you. And no one exemplifies this better than Naruto.

Reason 2 - Sasuke looks really uncomfortable around her. Like he doesn't wanna be reminded of his miserable life with her. It has always been clear to any reader with half a mind that Sasuke never had any love for Sakura. He never respected her, he never really thought of her as a friend, he is never happy to see her, doesn't even crack a smile. At most, he thought of her as a team member when he was still a part of team seven. However, all his interactions with Sakura clearly show that he has a very low opinion of her. He doesn't even like her or tolerate her touch. She is just annoying as far as he is concerned, devoid of sensitivity, dignity, integrity and concern for others. Especially Naruto.

I really find it hard to believe that Sasuke willingly slept with Sakura. Like hell naw. I have a feeling that she tricked him and trapped him into marrying her. Does she have the kind of duplicitous and manipulative personality to be able to do such a thing? I mean apart from the fact that she used to have an inner Sakura, we also have this among many other examples, among one of the most recent ones. Brainwashing Sarada about Ino, Ino, the first person in school who was kind to Sakura, first person to befriend Sakura. Smh.

I think she masterminded a situation where Sasuke had no choice but to marry her, maybe for the sake of Sarada. Why else would he say that Sarada is the reason for his connection to Sakura?

And unpopular opinion but idgaf, I think Sasuke looks uncomfortable around Sarada as well. Like she reminds him of his association with Sakura, a life he never wanted in the first place. It also doesn't help that he dismisses Sarada's questions and concerns quite easily. Sure, he is goal oriented and is focusing on his mission. But this is his child, that he has met after a decade. How come he has so many soft expressions when he meets Naruto but for Sarada he has none? Towards the end, when he hugs her, I got the impression that he just took things in perspective, since he had some time to think about it since Sarada came to visit him, when he was taken by surprise. It's not Sarada's fault that he is in such a sad predicament. But he is still distant with Sakura.

I really wish Sarada had asked Sakura - Mom, why didn't he respond to you? Or at least say something?

I would have liked to see what Sakura would have said. Heheh. But Kishi would never be that explicit. He really wouldn't. How do we know?

So here, Sasuke is about to give some explanation as to why he is never around. It would have cleared a lot of things because Sasuke isn't Sakura. He would not have lied about his reasons, he might have softened the blow for Sarada's sake, but he would have told the truth. Or at least he would have given some solid indication as to their situation. It's even more incriminating that Sakura here looks nervous, as if she is worried about what he might end up saying. The truth.

But it would have been too explicit. So what did Kish do? He justified cutting off Sasuke's explosive revelation with this.

Shin attacks and cuts Sasuke's speech off. Was the timing deliberate? No doubt it was. Very convenient. Very clever actually. Drop the audience a hint but let them fill the empty spaces themselves because he is writing a shounen battle manga. He has been doing shit like this since chapter three of part one. Red herrings, smokescreens, subterfuge, strategic distractions, that's how Kish rolls. At least in Naruto.

Reason 3 - Kishi's repeated allusions that Karin might be Sarada's mother. The way I see it, Karin isn't the mother. Basically I can't imagine Sasuke sleeping willingly with any woman. Because he is gay. And in love with Naruto.

But Kishi really didn't have to drop this angle in here. It is kinda sensationalistic and slightly inappropriate for shounen, adultery being the theme here. But well, he never leaves an opportunity to diss SS. He certainly tried his best to show SS in extremely bad light, like Sasuke and Sakura's so called connection is so precarious (as it's non existent), that even Naruto, Suigetsu and Sarada believed for a moment that Sakura might not be the mother. Makes SS look very sordid, doesn't it? Juxtapositioning Sarada and Karin's faces, dropping veiled insults like Sakura chased Sasuke, he could have just made Karin say that they traveled together. Aren't Karin and Sakura friends? Wouldn't Karin be expected to have a charitable opinion on how Sakura snagged Sasuke? Hehehe. Yeah, things don't add up unless you decode Kishi's devilish ministrations.

Also, the issue of the umbilical cord only serves in making SS and especially Sakura look even more Sasuke crazy. Like she was still traveling with him, living in caves and forests, as she was heavily pregnant? Sasuke wouldn't have returned to Konoha for her sake, but she could have returned for Sarada's. It's a Japanese tradition for the mothers to keep the umbilical cord safely. Many other Asian countries have the same tradition, the idea being umbilical cord is the physical and spiritual connection between the mother and the unborn baby, it's sacred, it's symbolic, it's meaningful. But Sakura didn't keep it, Karin did. So what is Kishi trying to say here? That Sasuke is more important to Sakura than her own child. She would keep an old picture of Sasuke (which she perhaps took from Karin) which doesn't even include her but not the cord. Makes you think. That Sakura is still the same, even after becoming a mother. Addicted to Sasuke. It's just so sad.

Anyway, with the way Kishi wrote Gaiden, since he couldn't write these established dynamics explicitly, he instead dropped allusions, hints, applied visual tricks and narrative devices, he used his personal arsenal of storytelling tools to colour SS as dysfunctional, unpleasant, superficial, a 'connection' only meant as a pretence for Sarada's sake. Including the story of her conception.

#reply

483 notes · View notes

carriagelamp · 4 years ago

Photo

Art of Aardman

I found myself a cheap copy of the Shaun the Sheep movie, so I was rewatching a bunch of Aardman films earlier this month and decided to hunt down some books too. For anyone that doesn’t know, Aardman is a British stop-motion studio that does fantastic work like Wallace and Gromit, Shaun the Sheep, Chicken Run, Early Man… tons of cool stuff. They’re always quirky and funny and warm-hearted. This was just a very nice art book for anyone that’s a fan of Aardman stop motion and wants to see a bit extra; it shows some cool concept art and blows up the neat details in Aardman work, especially in their intricate stuff like The Pirates! In an Adventure with Scientists!

Asterix and the Picts (Asterix and the Chariot Race, and How Obelix Fell Into The Magic Potion)

I decided to try a couple of the new Asterix comics that were done by the new team, just to see if they stand up to the old ones (that and How Obelix Fell Into The Magic Potion cause I’d never read that one before). They were pretty decent! Asterix and the Picts was my favourite of the two though I wouldn’t say either are going to contest for my favourite Asterix comic... but still! The art looks good and the stories felt like what I would expect, they made for a pleasant couple evenings of reading especially since it’s been so long since I’ve read a new Asterix comic. If you’ve never read Asterix it’s one of the biggest name French comic series in North America, as far as I know and very worth the read. It’s about a single Gaulish village that’s holding out against the invading Romans through sheer force of will, slapstick hijinks, and a magical super-strength potion brewed by their druid. Lots of fantastic visuals and cute wordplay, even in the English translations.

Bear

I found out about this bastion of Canadian literature via tumblr post that was losing its collective mind over the fact that some bizarre bear-based erotica novella somehow won the most prestigious literary prize available in Canada. Since I too found this hilarious and unspeakably bizarre I had to give it a read, obviously. And yes, the flat surface level summary is... a librarian moves out into rural Ontario and falls in love with a literal for-real not-supernatural-not-a-joke bear. And I have to say… it is actually worthy of an award, which I was not expecting given that I was there for a laugh. It has beautiful writing, and the subtextual story is pretty interesting… it kind of makes me think of The Haunting of Hill House actually in terms of themes. (Womanhood, personhood, independence, autonomy partially achieved through escaping the male gaze by claiming non-human lovers... listen if I were still in university I would right a paper comparing the two novels).

I dunno man, it’s fucking weird. Actually a well-written book, but sure is about a woman falling in love with a literal bear. Give it a read if you want something bonkers but like… high-brow bonkers.

Hunger Pangs: True Love Bites

Best book I have read in like… a while. A long while. I am not a fast reader, and I consumed 90% of this book over a weekend. It’s not at all like Terry Pratchett, but at the same time it scratched an itch for me that I haven’t had satisfied since Pratchett’s death. A very clever, hilariously funny poly romance between a disabled werewolf, an anxious vampire lord, and an incredibly powerful woman, with heaps of social satire, political commentary, and sinister undertones. The whole thing reads a bit like fanfiction and I say that in the most flattering way possible -- it is so easy to jump right in and be immediately taken over by the characters and the world and the plot, you never feel like you’re fighting to engage even though the world-building is fascinating and expansive. It welcomes you in right away, it was the book equivalent of a quilt and a hug which is something I sorely needed with all this pandemic bullshit. If you read any of the books on this list, go read that one while I sit here in pain waiting for the sequel.

Kid Paddle

I watched the cartoon of Kid Paddle as a kid and was thinking about it recently, so I decided to hunt down some of the original comics online. They’re fun and weird, with a cute art style and fantastic monsters designs. (My favourites are always about Kid either daydreaming or playing games that involve Midam’s weird warty troll creatures. It’s like a cross between Calvin and Hobbes and Foxtrot with the fun sort of quirks that I love in Belgian comics. Unfortunately, unlike Asterix, I’ve only come across these ones in French, but if you can read French it’s totally worth popping over to The Internet Archive and reading the ones they have available.

The Last Firehawk: The Golden Temple

The lastest Firehawk book. Despite being written for quite young readers, I did enjoy the early books in this series quite a bit. They’re about a young owl and squirrel who found an egg for a magical species that was believed to be extinct. With the newly hatched firehawk, the three of them head off on a mission to find an ancient firehawk magic that could save the entire forest. Very basic adventure story but a good intro to the tropes for children. Unfortunately the quality really feels like it drops with each subsequent book; this will probably be the last one I bother reading.

Lumberjanes: The Moon Is Up

I honestly think I enjoy these Lumberjanes novels even more than the comics just because it really gives time to delve into each story and examine how the camper are really thinking and feeling about everything. (Also I’m always weak for novelizations of anything.) The Moon Is Up is a book that focuses more on Jo, and takes place during the camp’s much anticipated Galaxy Wars, a competition between cabins that goes over several days. While the campers prepare for these challenges though, they also run into a strange little creature with a penchant for cheese and theft. Roanoke cabin needs to keep ahead in Galaxy Wars and somehow deal with the fearsome Moon Pirates that a closing in...

Lumberjanes v4 (Out Of Time)

One of the Lumberjanes comics, a cool, girl-focused, queer comic series. Honestly, this is just a fun series that I never got as into as I should have. My advice is honestly to skip book one because it gets better as it continues, and I’ve really been enjoying the later books now that I’ve given it another go. It follows five campers at Miss Qiunzella Thiskwin Penniquiqul Thistle Crumpet’s Camp for Hardcore Lady Types (Jo, April, Molly, Mal, and Ripley) as they handle all sorts of challenges, from friendship to crushes, camp activities to supernatural horrors, getting badges to not being brutally killed. Great if you liked the vibe of Gravity Falls but want it to be queer-er.

Mooncakes

Another queer graphic novel, but unfortunately not a very good one. It really looked appealing and I had high hopes, but the book itself really didn’t hold up… I actually couldn’t even finish it, the plot was just too… non-existent. The art is fairly mediocre once you actually look at it, especially backgrounds, and it feels very… placid. Not much conflict or excitement or even a very compelling reason to keep reading. If you just want a soft queer supernatural you may get more mileage out of it than me, but it didn’t really do it for me. There’s better queer graphic novels out there.

New Boy In Town

One of the worst books I have ever read. My girlfriend had ordered a very different book online but through a frankly stupendous error was sent this 1980s pulp romance instead. Absolutely nauseating on levels I couldn’t even begin to enumerate here. Naturally we read the whole thing out loud. Probably took us 10 times longer to finish than it warranted because I had to stop every two sentences to lose my mind. If you like bad decisions, baffling hetero courting rituals, built-in cultural Christianity without actually calling it that, and gold panning then boy howdy is this the book for you.

(seriously, you better have patience for gold-panning if you attempt this one, because I sure learn that I don’t)

Piggies

This was a picture book I enjoyed as a kid and had a reason to reread recently. Honestly it’s just very cute and simple, and the art is completely mesmerizing. Wonderful if you know a young child that would enjoy a simple goofy boardbook.

Shaun the Sheep: Tales From Mossy Bottom

Related to my Aardman fascination earlier this month. I tried reading a varieties of Shaun the Sheep books — most of which are mediocre at best — but the Tales From Mossy Bottom Farm series is genuinely good. Just chapter books, of course, but the illustrations match the series’ concept art and each story feels like it could have jumped directly out of an episode. They’re just cute and feel-good! Kinda like Footrot Flats but more for kids, and from the sheep’s perspective moreso than the dog’s.

#aardman animation #shaun the sheep #lumberjanes #kid paddle #asterix #the last firehawk #hunger pangs: true love bites #marian engel #bear #canadian literature #canlit #queer lit #book review #book reviews #chatter

298 notes · View notes

rossa-motte · 4 years ago

Text

are we writing magical realism?, blog.

Sorry if something reads awkward, I wrote and made this on the phone!

So, first of all, my credentials:

I'm latina... that's enough for some people, oops.

I've studied it

I read it

I write it, I think

I'm not going to distract ourselves so much with history, Internet already has a lot of that. But we can say it originates in Latin America at the beginning/midst of the 1900s, but is written in other parts of the world as well.

Most of the time, the definition we heard is something on the lines of mixing reality and the fantastic, treating the unreal as real. Also, a lot of people see it as fantasy for latinos.

But all this is quite vague and ends in lots of people from countries where isn't common thinking it just means contemporary fantasy, fantasy for literary writers, or thinking it is an... aesthetic... *shivers

Well, if it's none of that, what is? How do I know if I'm writing it? Everybody says something different... And, yeah, a lot of people don't see eye to eye on this, so this is as far as I know and my personal opinion. But here are eight things I think defines magical realism (particularly differentiating it from fantasy):

i. Yes, it's fantasy, but the point isn't magic.

In fantasy the point is magic, is people thinking “oh, how crazy! the magic, the other world!”. Even if is a contemporary low fantasy, the fantastical elements are the focus (most of the time, at least, there are always exceptions).

In magical realism magic is just there. It has a relevance in the plot, character, or setting as much as cup of water, a ride on a bus, or the night. Nobody is going to stop for it nor explain it.

The story in fantasy is about, for example, about a magical girl. In magical realism is about the girl, who so happens to be magical.

ii. And one of the reasons for that it's because it's character driven.

While magical realism is not “the fantasy for literary writers” I think it has that in common with litfic: the plot can be a more... quiet one. Maybe not 100% character driven, but with a subtle plot. And if the plot is not that strong, fantasy can't shine in the plot either.

And, if there's a strong plot (let's say, action with spies or some shit) magic has nothing to do with the premise. It's not a “I'm a secret agent and I read minds but nobody can know about it”, more like an “I'm a secret agent in this Totally Normal World where sometimes someone reads a mind”.

iii. Because magical realism is not a classic genre either.

If I tell you I'm writing an epic fantasy, most people know the type of story I'm talking about. In other world, inspired by the past, high fantasy, probably with this magic journey as a plot, and with very specific clichés an archetypes as options.

We can't do that with magical realism. It's more like saying we're writing historical fiction. It's just one factor of the plot (or setting), and we can have a romance that is historical, as well as a thriller that is historical.

Magical realism is too broad to even have clichés or archetypes.

iv. And it's too vague: we're not writing hard magic systems here.

A really thin line divides magical realism with a low fantasy-soft magic system. I think there are lots of stories that fall in a awkward in-between.

Maybe the difference, really subtle, resides in magical realism “making less sense”.

This other type of fantasy usually has some kind of rules that bend a lot, or some thematic focus. While magical realism looks more like surrealism, kind of dreamlike in a sense, where different unconnected stuff can happen without any sense of logic.

This doesn't really mean it doesn't makes sense. Usually it does but in other ways, like an emotional one.

v. Not only that, but sometimes, magic is not magic.

In a fantasy, the fantastic element resides in magic itself or a concrete thing, but once again, magical realism looks like surrealism. Sometimes the magic resides in the uncanny, in a weird version of reality.

Maybe it has elements that exists but are so strange and unknown that it feels unreal. Or things that could happen but the chances are so low and the conditions so precise that it kind of doesn't make sense (like surviving with a tiguer in the ocean).

And sometimes it feels like a strech to reality: something that could happen but a little too much, like exacerbated. Think about the gothic subgenre, or these post on Tumblr listing a specific setting + gothic. I remember one about university, telling for example, that the answer is always communism, in any class even math, or that time doesn't pass. Is interesting and funny because is somehow relatable, it feels like that even if we know that's not realistic.

vi. And sometimes the magic is ambiguous.

A lot of the times we have explicit magic or magical elements... but we can't be sure if they are really an out of (our) world thing or it has a logical explanation.

For example, ghosts are super common in magical realism... but also in real life. Most of us probably know somebody who has a experience with a ghost (some of us ourselves), or know some legend about spirits in our place.

So, if a character sees a ghost in magical realism, we, as readers, have to ask ourselves: is this character really seeing a ghost or it's just imagining it?

Same if we have a witch who hex someone and then bad things happens to that person. Or tarot cards telling that something is going to happen and then it does... All that can happen in reality, and it can be real magic or just coincidences.

vii. Related to that, this ambiguity exists because a lot of the time the magic is based in real beliefs and lore.

Let me put it in other words to get across the point:

vii. Magical realism doesn't has to be in Latin America to work, but it needs to have a heavy setting and folklore.

Just as in gothic literature, setting is just another character, and is super common to base the magic in the folklore of that specific setting... and that usually creates this ambiguity.

In fantasy there's a lot of focus on being original, but magical realism (usually) is very traditional. We work with what we already have in our settings.

And this also means... sometimes... magical realism and reality has more in common that one would think.

For example, Border is a Swedish movie with trolls... this only works in Sweden (or near it) because it's part of their stories. In Latin America it would be too alien for us. But, for example, Argentina has a lot of lore with duendes (like elves or gnomes).

viii. Finally, magical realism is not an escapism.

People usually thinks about fantasy as escapism. While I think is incorrect, sometimes it is like that... Even if not, the fantasy part is super romantic and we want to be in that world.

In magical realism not so much. It has a love-hate for life and reality. It's not bad but it has a comment to make about it. Magic is beautiful but mundane, life is cruel and romantic, all bittersweet.

And yes, usually, in Latin America, that means talking about colonialism and poverty.

If any of you want to add something, don't doubt it!

#fiction writing #writing #magical realism #realismo magico #latina #latino #latine #latinoamérica #latin america #fantasy #gothic #surrealism

463 notes · View notes

venusdeus · 4 years ago

Text

Court of Kings - Chapter 1

Summary: Sent to a neighboring kingdom to secure an alliance, forced to give up your dreams and ambitions, disregarded as a means to an end. You however have no desire to fulfil their wishes. And neither does Oikawa.

Pairing: Oikawa Tooru x female reader

Genre: Fluff, comedy, angst, royalty au, arranged marriage au, enemies to lovers au (more like enemies to allies to friends to lovers), eventual smut?

Word count: 2700+

Warnings: All the characters are adults unless specified. This chapter is sfw. Minors do not interact.

Notes: Part 1 of a long series I’m planning to write. This is my first fic in this blog so I would greatly appreciate comments, follows and feedback!

Read Prologue first <...> Chapter 2

August 5th

The first messengers arrived when you were having afternoon tea with your literature instructor in the gardens of your summer residence, as your brother was practicing his sword skills not too far. A maid sent by your mother brought you the news of their negotiation a few hours later, accompanied by some of the strawberry macarons you loved so much.

If it were up to you, you would refuse such a ridiculous offer even before it was brought to your attention. Now that they had a male heir to the throne however, there was no use of a girl that had no claim to become the future ruler, other than being sent to create diplomatic relations now that you were over twenty summers.

“Where do you think they are from?” your brother asked as he tried to dust off his clothes, quite tired from following the orders of his practice partner all day long.

“I wouldn’t know, I didn’t see any flags with them.” you continued as he looked disappointed “But they were wearing blue, so at least we know it's not from the south.”

He nodded; his eyes wide with worry “I am glad they are not sending you there.”

“No one is sending me anywhere yet Hiro.” you answered quite annoyed, turning your head sharply to glare at the boy.

It was not his fault per see but him being recognized as the heir has left you in an awkward situation for the past twelve years. You loved your brother dearly, unlike the distant relationship you had with your parents. It was not because you had the ambition to rule the kingdom either. Of course, it was unfair as you were the firstborn, and if not for what was between your legs, you would also have been the one to inherit the crown.

Even if that was so, you simply did not find it in yourself to become a leader. You, however, did wish to be able to shape your own future. One that did not involve fulfilling the selfish wishes of others.

“It would be awfully lonely without you.” he sighed, instantly making you feel guilty for sounding a little bit too harsh.

Hiro looked incredibly small for his age, standing there with his shoulders slouched, fingers flicking, a skinny and sickly kid since the day he was born. He took after your father with his dark hair and almost pitch-black eyes, but with your mother's facial features, a contrast to your own looks that bore no resemblance to any of them, another reason for your alienation from the rest of the family.

“And it would be awfully quiet without you.” you teased “Maybe then I would be able to read in peace.”

Several footsteps coming behind you silenced you both before Hiro could retort, cutting the joyful air and replacing it with a heavy feeling.

Your mother was a beautiful woman that much was true, but in a different way to that of her kids. The Queen had extremely sharp features and her painted lips always supported a displeased frown. She acted as her title suggested, prim and proper, she fit her role perfectly.

Renowned for her charm when she was younger, she did not lose much to the ages if not for the wrinkles next to her keen eyes and the white threads on her hair. Likewise, she was as smart as she was alluring. Coming from a family that lost their wealth a long time ago even though they still supported titles, no one would even dream of her being second to the sole ruler of their beloved country. She was a success-driven woman, which made her a threat in the eyes of many in the court, thus she was not given the right to make a decision when it came to the education of the heirs she produced. Although affectionate towards her kids first, she had no say on the time she had with them, causing their family ties to weaken, and mostly spent her time with foreign ambassadors. A responsibility entrusted upon her by her husband.

“I see you received my message.” she declared not looking at you directly “We will talk more about this after our guests leave. For now, I want both of you to go to your rooms and stay there until dinner.”

You could sense the irritation in her voice. It was not for her kids, however, as you could see the dark circles under her eyes, a sign of her losing sleep for the past few days.

“Won’t we meet our guests?” Hiro questioned before you could.

“It is not needed as they are only messengers.” the Queen answered shortly before continuing her walk towards the main hall, her maids trailing behind. “I will see you two in an hour.”

Leaving your brother behind, you decided to head down towards the observatory. You knew that you would get an earful from your maids later for not changing your garments for the dinner, but your head was filled with too many questions and negative possibilities to care about dresses. It was not as if you did not know that this day would come. It even took longer than expected if all things considered. Most in your position would be engaged before they even stopped using diapers. It was a more political alliance than anything else, decided by the respective kingdoms and the advisors.

You even saw the letters that were exchanged since last year with multiple seals supporting different coat of arms. The council of your father must have declined the offers before this. Not for your sake, at least you didn’t think it was, but for not suiting their taste. It was a big deal for the princess of a country, whether being the heir or not, to marry someone as it reassured the ties you would create.

The only positive thing that happened so far was the fact that you would not be sent to the south. The Southern Kingdom was placed across the sea and was an important trade partner to your own.

It was a wealthy country for sure, but also too grim and the people too wild. Other than the traded goods it wasn’t a traveller-friendly country. They kept to themselves and even though the only thing that separated the two port kingdoms was a narrow sea, they had a vastly different culture. These differences resulted in legends and the rumors about the country becoming more and more outrageous over time.

They called their men barbaric, only interested in hunt and the art of war. Their women proclaimed witches, quite beautiful unlike the stereotype, but worshippers of a different God. All just foolish rumors said your history instructor. He was a wise man that travelled a lot when he was younger and according to him these tales were nonsense. Their folk did not originate there but immigrated over a few centuries ago. He taught you that the people of the Southern Kingdom were that of culture and arts. They just did not like intruders. His words didn’t ease your or Hiro’s heart however as you were fed these tales since you were younger.

If you could find a way to escape from this responsibility you would. Yet, since the first time you sensed what was going on you were looking for an answer, just to be disappointed every time.

The dinner was cold and tasteless even though it was made from the best ingredients one could manage to find. “The lady that makes them must hate her occupation with a passion” claimed your brother when you were dismissed “I can’t understand how mother likes it.”

Once again, the King did not join you at the table. It was always the same excuse, politics, responsibilities. But you knew better. You knew why your parents did not share a bed anymore and you could see the looks women of the court gave to your father. It was not because the King was a good-looking man, quite the opposite in fact, but power attracted people.

You were fully grown now and even when you were younger, you knew what these actions indicated. You even had the most unfortunate memory of seeing one of them, who was not much older than you, leaving your father's chamber looking quite flushed. You would have not cared if only the woman did not give you a curtsy while supporting a smirk.

Lady Winna was her real name, daughter of a lord that was close to the King, nicknamed Lady Whore by you. And most of the time, she was the reason your father would skip the meals altogether only to receive a feast in his room later that night. Which was why you knew that you should never hope for a love match. If lucky you could maybe be friends with your future partner.

“She does not hate her job, she hates her life” you replied “Not that it would matter, she will leave soon. I heard she was pregnant with a lord’s child. A married one on top of that.”

Hiro gasped “What if someone were to hear you talking about these rumors” he exclaimed hitting your arm quite forcefully “you could be punished.”

“Don’t act as if you never say such stuff you little bridge troll. I know how you talk behind your instructors.” you mused rubbing the pain off. “And who will punish a princess I ask you? If not for mother or father?”

“Do I need to know what I should punish you for?”

Both you and Hiro jumped at the unexpected voice of the Queen, a gasp leaving your mouths. She was holding a box in her hand and her face was supporting a rare, serene expression.

“Nothing of importance.” replied Hiro quickly “We were just afraid of falling behind our studies.”

The Queen did not seem convinced as her eyes narrowed, but she had a small genuine smile on. “I see. Why don’t you go on ahead and start your nightly studies then? I need to talk to your sister privately in the meantime.”

Hiro let out a snort that he tried to cover with a cough. You are in trouble he mouthed before bowing to your mother and disappearing through the corridor.

“I would like you to know I was just repeating what the ladies in the court were saying. Not that I believe the rumors of course, it is quite indecent.” you tried to explain quickly but the Queen cut you with a shake of her head.

“That is not why I wanted to talk to you dear. It is however quite incident for a lady to talk that way you are right.” she sighed “Why don’t we talk in my study?”

You knew what was coming now, after all you could not remember the last time you had a conversation with your mother alone, the relaxed expression on her face, however, gave you hope. Maybe, you thought, they decided it was not time yet. Or maybe they did not like the offers that came through.

“Close the door, will you?” she asked walking towards the desk that stood before the bookshelves that covered the walls.

“Where are your attendants?” you questioned as you followed her inside “Is there something wrong?”

“I thought you would be more comfortable if it were just the two of us that’s all. I need to show you something.” She answered motioning towards the box she was holding. “It came this morning. For you of course. Go on, open it.”

The box itself was made from heavy oak, painted black with a family crest carved on top of it. The symbol looked familiar enough, but you could not concentrate enough to remember where you knew it from over the heavy beating of your heart. Opening it cautiously you took a sharp breath between your teeth, observing the contents.

Inside stood a tiara that was made from white gems shaped in intricate designs that you have not encountered before and in the middle stood an icy blue diamond so big that you could have sworn it must have cost the yearly earnings of a whole country.

“Not a ring.” You stated matter of factly “A very bold choice for a gift.”

“Indeed. But you cannot expect less from Seijoh.” Your mother replied with a cautious voice, almost as if she was calculating your reaction.

“Seijoh…” the box cluttered on the table as you let go of it abruptly “You are sending me up north? We waged war against them for years! Even before my grandfather! And now you are sending me there?”

You knew the country itself was wealthy enough and that it had a strong military presence. They had many allies within the countries that bordered yours as well. But they also claimed right on your countries throne by sighting territorial dispute as well as a marriage between the two countries that produced no heir.

Now they were sending you there as a scapegoat. To secure his claim to the throne. And maybe even to theirs. An eye for an eye.

It took another week for your father to send a response and invite the Crown Prince and the King of Seijoh for a short visit before the decision was finalized and another two for them to arrive on the outskirts of your kingdom with their entourage behind.

As you sat in your suite biting your nails and waiting for their arrival, your maids were going in and out with different dresses in their hands looking for your approval. You on the other hand did not have the mental energy to entertain their ideas. It was bad enough that you had to attend a ball given in their honor that very evening, but you also had to be in the throne room soon enough to welcome them into the castle. Not to mention this would be the first time that you were to meet your possible future husband.

You heard of him before of course. How could you not when his reputation preceded him? A very cunning and ambitious young man, yet it was his looks that brought the most gossip. You heard his name whispered among the staff when they did not know you were listening and heard the ladies giggle when they mentioned the time that they spent in their court, with him.

It was enough to leave a sour taste in your mouth. Was it too much to ask that your future partner was a man of intelligence and few words? At least you would know that you could get along with him then. But a sharp and striking Casanova? They had to be jesting. That was the only possible explanation for this mockery.

As if your fathers’ ridiculous behaviors wasn’t enough now you had to entertain another man like him. It was pretty common for monarchs to take on other lovers, but you would not be embarrassed by a man you did not know in your own house, husband or not.

When you finally entered the throne room you could hear the commotion outside caused by non-other than the infamous man that was plaguing your thoughts for the past week. Your mother motioned you to hurry and take your place with a sudden turn of her chin just before the doors opened.

The rumors did not do him justice you thought as he strutted towards you and your family, your breath caught in your throat.

Oikawa Tooru was without a doubt the most beautiful man you ever laid eyes on.

He was beautiful alright.

And with his charming eyes staring straight at your own and his delicate hands placed on his sword, he looked ready to murder.

It might look like a filler episode, but I needed to give background and I love to build anticipation. Sorry not sorry? Reblogs are appreciated! And also this was not edited I posted it right after writing it so if you see any mistake let me know.

Disclaimer: No portion of this story may be reproduced in any form without permission. I do not own the character of Oikawa Tooru. This is a work of fiction.

TAG LIST: Let me know if you want me to tag you.

@triskoof @sassyglassesbunny @m-a-r-i-a-s-b-l-o-g

96 notes · View notes