#I write because it conveys ideas better than I can speak them

[genstyle]

I've been learning even more about other people's languages and cultures! As I grow up and meet more people! It's been fun but it's also frustrating how little I can speak with accents... Y'know, despite being able to understand what a lot of people are saying even when their accents are super thick. I've met Vietnamese people, Indian people, Turkish people, Ukrainian people, Salvadorian people, and a lot of people from the Philippines.

When they speak English I can translate what they're trying to convey even when they mix in some of their native language's words.

But everyone who has tried to teach me some of their words and phrases has hit the same block. My mouth sucks at speaking. In general. I had a lot of trouble speaking clear English as a kid too.

I'm so envious of people who can speak multiple languages.

[whaledenwtf]

Can I request headcanons for Astarion, Gale, Wyll, and Halsin react to Karlach telling him that his gn crush likes him too but they're too shy to confess?

YES!!! I'm sorry this took so long, but its been in queue this whole time Love this idea!!

REQUEST HERE BG3 Masterlist

Headcannons: Astarion, Gale, Wyll and Halsin reacting to Karlach telling him that gn!reader likes them back but they are too shy

Warnings: None. This is just fluff and cuteness

I tried to write as much as possible but the way Halsin as a character is... I wrote it shorter considering he seeks you out in game, and wouldn't hesitate to do so in this case either. First time I write Wyll too, so I hope I gave his character justice 💞

Astarion

He felt frustrated for the longest time. How can his flirting not get to you?

He's been trying so hard to get you under his thumb.

Gods why aren't you being seduced

He sees those little blushes and rapid heartbeat so he knows it affects you.

Admittedly, he started falling for you because you weren't jumping his bones.

This man is broken, but with you he feels mendable.

He begins to slow down with the flirting, but his gazes went from calculating to longing.

Its so embarrassing that Karlach speaks up

"When will you realize they like you? Aren't you supposed to have sharp senses? Some kind of vampire you are..." She tells him one day, while they were at camp.

He drops his dagger, almost stabbing his foot.

"I'll choose to ignore that last part. Repeat what you said." He asks her again.

"They. Like. You. Too." She told him, grinning. His eyes widen at the revelation.

"I couldn't wait anymore. I feel so much better now that I've gotten that out of my system. I hate keeping secrets." She turns around, speaking to no one in particular as she walks away.

He felt... elated. You like him back!

He considers what this means for his future.

On the one hand, you could be by his side. On the other, he feels this sense of worry. Between his undead nature, and your very much not undead nature, what will that mean for you both.

He cards a hand through his curls, sighing.

He might be getting ahead of himself! After all, you still don't know that he knows that you like him.

Maybe he should say something?

He ponders what to do for the rest of the day, distracted.

Gale

Oh gods, he was so nervous around you

He tried flirting, but the things he said were so embarrassing

He still can't believe he said he likes your musk

That one-liner haunts his dreams- well nightmares

He sees how easily you flirt back with Astarion and it makes him feel... insecure (much more than he currently is)

Everytime he tries to convey his adoration for you, he says something awkward and all you can do is blush

He thought you liked what he was saying, but you haven't responded to any of his adoration

Oh Mystra, what if you blush because you're embarrassed of him

He is trailing behind the group by a couple paces, clenching and unclenching his fists with a frown on his face

"What's the problem?" Karlach whispers into his ear.

He jumps in fear, snapping out of his sad thoughts.

"Oh, Karlach! Just pondering some things..." He can't help but look at your back longingly. Karlach hums, grinning.

"Do your problems involve a special leader of ours?" She says normally. The distance has grown enough between the two and the rest of your group, but it doesn't help Gale's anxieties.

"Keep your voice down! Please." He whisper shouts. Karlach raises her hands in the air, surrendering.

"I don't understand why you're so worried Gale, they like you too." His head snaps to Karlach, his eyes searching for any deceit in her words.

"I'm sorry?" Karlach furrows her brows.

"You're forgiven?" He shakes his head.

"I was asking you to repeat yourself." He says tiredly. Her eyebrows raise.

"Oh! Well, (Y/N) likes you too."

"And how do you know this?" Karlach rubs the back of her neck.

"A birdie told me."

"A birdie." He says, deadpanned.

"Fine. It was (Y/N)." She says quietly.

Truth! And from the source, no less!

Oh gods, he was elated! Maybe he should think of other things to say to you.

Karlach leaves him be as he goes back to pondering what he should say to you.

"Your musk reminds me of home" He thinks this one's good. Until he remembers he lives next to the ocean.

I don't think they would like to be compared to fish...

Back to square one

Wyll

He really tried, the poor thing

He compares you to the most wonderful of things

The sun, the moon, the warm summer air, the cool nights filled with music and soft spoken words

He himself said he'd like to take things slow, and he is.

He'd just appreciate knowing if you felt the same way.

Today you were all traversing the woods surrounding the Emerald Grove, trying to find answers to the worms inside your skulls.

He was walking alongside Karlach, a companionable silence between them.

"You know... there's been some romances in our group recently." His ears perk at her words.

"Oh really?" He couldn't help being curious. Romance is such a beautiful thing, especially in perilous times like these.

"Shadowheart and Lae'zel... Astarion and Halsin. There's also (Y/N)-" She cuts herself off, throwing her hand over her mouth to stop talking. His head snaps to her, looking at her.

"Our leader has found romance?" He tries to ask coolly, but he can't help but feel slightly hurt.

"Well- I mean... They have a crush on someone." Wyll's heart clenches at the thought. Was it Gale? Maybe it's Karlach-

"That's... good." Karlach bites her lip.

"They told me, and now I feel like a bad friend for spilling their secret..." He furrows his brows, thinking about who you may have a crush on. What if it was on Astarion? Or Halsin... He couldn't compete with all that muscle-

"At least I didn't say they had a crush on you-" Karlach says, trying to calm herself down. When she realizes what she said, she slaps her hand over her mouth again. Wyll's eyes widen.

"They do?" He feels hopeful, for the first time in a long time.

She nods, hand still covering her mouth.

Wyll looks around, making sure no one is listening, before whispering to Karlach.

"I like them too." She squeals into her hand, jumping up and down in excitement.

He walks around with a newfound confidence, and makes sure to stay close to you and talk.

He never realized how much you blushed when he spoke to you, and it was adorable.

Halsin

He tried to be so delicate with you since he knew he was.. a lot

He may be an animal to some extent but he saw how delicate you were

He'd call you his little flower, and you'd always blush

Your shy nature made him unsure if you liked him

He was confident, sometimes stupidly so, as evident from his scars

He really should have known about bear mating season

He spent most of time in camp pacing back and forth, thinking

Despite the Shadowcurse taking up most of his headspace, like Selune, you were a guiding light in his thoughts

He loved your laugh, the crinkles by your eyes, the face you make when you're pondering something.

He would always stare and watch you in amazement.

Apparently his affections were too noticeable, considering Karlach of all people came up to him.

"Gods, I can't believe I have to be a messenger" was the first thing he heard, with the crunch of her boots on fallen foliage.

She walks into his view and waves at him.

"Hello-"

"They like you too." She said before walking away.

His eyes widen at her, before he processes the words.

They... like him too

Nobody has ever seen the gargantuan elf run so quickly in their time together.

He picks you up and spins you around, laughing loudly.

"They didn't ask you to tell him, did they?" Shadowheart whispers to Karlach as they watch them spinning and laughing loudly.

"No. I was just tired of the longing looks." Karlach tells her, smiling at her skillful execution as Cupid.

[librarycards]

hi sarah. feel free to delete this if it’s too much, but do you know of any work (academic, personal essays, art, etc) about grieving someone who’s died to suicide/wishing they were alive while also grappling with how to square it with your anti-psych, anti-carceral, pro-bodily autonomy politics? for reference i’ve read Alexandre Baril’s paper on Suicidism before and may revisit it in this light, as well as aleks thom's writing on disenfranchised grief and your lovely recent poem about suicide, but i’m sort of at a loss about where to look for other work about the intersection of these specific topics. many thanks and much love in advance

thank you so much for asking! i feel strange saying "i'm sorry for your loss" because it's clichéd and trite and you've heard it a billion times before. i am sorry, though, and i am equally sorry that you carry your loss into a world that is so deeply hostile to everyone affected by suicide – loved ones, those who have attempted, those who have completed, those who are dealing with suicidal thoughts, all of us.

i think that perhaps the most useful thing to remember is a bit simpler and a lot more challenging than can be conveyed in a paper or poem. it's that peoples' bodyminds are their own, including when they treat said bodyminds in ways we on the outside don't like. this is true for people who do all manner of "unhealthy" and "self-harmful" things, and as loved ones, it's incredibly fucking hard to witness, especially when the consequences are deadly.

suicide grief, and in general, work by loved ones and caregivers to those of us who experience extreme states, is pretty tough to find in the area of Mad studies. this is partially justified, given the degree to which we've all been spoken over and around by abusive "caregivers." yet it also denies the simultaneity embedded in basically any Mad community: we are all both, because we're all together and hurting at once.

i actually have two friends who have written about their own experiences as suicidal + Mad people who have lost close people to suicide: MT Vallerta, a scholar-poet [check out In Memoriam], and poet S.G. Huerta [you should read their poetry book, Last Stop].

Sophie Lewis also wrote an intriguing piece that touches on suicidality, death doulaing, and kinship.

Emily Krebs studies suicide/bereavement from a Mad crip abolitionist perspective, and is worth checking out.

i think it's also a good idea to remember that a way to honor those who have completed suicide is to take better care of suicidal people who are still alive. it only does more harm to suicidal people to approach ideation/attempts carcerally, and indeed encourages more covert, risky, and isolated methods rather than open dialogue. here are some ways to honor - not only support, but truly honor, trust, and respect suicidal people:

candidly speak about death, self-harm, and "dark thoughts" - and what to do around them - before and outside of immediate crises. be explicit in your intentions to support those who are actively suicidal before the next crisis occurs. ask people their preferences - who should you call? is the hospital ever on the table, and if so, under what conditions? who will be there to advocate for them when interacting with carceral authorities?

be candid about how their actions affect you, without placing blame. when someone attempts suicide, everyone they love is affected. this is not the person's fault, but it is something that needs to be addressed in community. here's an example from my own life: a dear friend was forcibly hospitalized after an attempt. i had been a main support person of hers in previous crises, when we lived near each other. when we spoke about her experience months later, i admitted that i felt "guilty" and as though i had somehow caused her to be institutionalized by living in a different place now. she admitted to me that she felt "guilty" for having "let [her loved ones] down" and "letting" her health deteriorate. we were able to find comfort and commonality in our affective experiences, and have become better friends for it.

cool it with the solutions. ask for consent before doing anything, but especially giving advice. many people kill themselves, or try to, because they feel cornered - often for very logical reasons (poverty, oppression, abuse/complex trauma). the adage that a poor person probably has more financial wisdom than a rich advice-giver holds true here, so don't immediately offer tips unless they've asked for them. sometimes, suicidality isn't connected to anything concrete, either, or a person's reasoning doesn't "make sense" (duh). if someone has the courage and trust to come to you with their feelings of suicidality, what they need most is someone to listen, to take them seriously, and to afford them the same personhood that they would have otherwise.

when people disclose thoughts of suicide, they take an immense risk in terms of their safety and credibility, and they do so because it is not possible to be a person alone. but, we also need to hold simultaneously that the individuals who do their best to support a loved one, but are not equipped to do so, are also not at fault for somehow "killing" them. suicide is incredibly complex, and suicide grief perhaps even moreso than other types of grief.

i also don't have concrete answers as to what to do about this conflict between our emotions around suicide - wanting to save a person we love, wanting them to stop hurting, being willing to do anything to keep them around - and imagining a world against and beyond the institution in all its permutations. but i know we will move toward it together through open conversation and trust and collective risk. much love and respect to you for asking such a challenging question during a heartbreaking time. <3

[milliebobbyflay]

Okay so I've spent a while thinking about how to word my actual problem with homestuck 2, and the works that make up post-canon homestuck more broadly. I think a lot of people resort to nitpicking bits of awkward writing or art in some attempt to pinpoint a source to an underlying sort of hollow uncanniness, which is funny because homestuck's supposed golden age of acts 1-5 are themselves FAR more of a tonally inconsistent mess of odd character beats, jokes that don't always land, and janky looking art.

Homestuck 2 has been written and drawn by very talented and passionate artists from the beginning, I think the actual issue comes down to a mix between the general pitfalls of hiring fans and the particulars of hussie's outsider background and unorthodox writing style.

First is the issue of hiring fans in general; while it can seem like an easy shortcut to finding talented writers already familiar with the voice and story of the original work, you have to be very aware of how fan culture operates. Beyond the obvious pitfalls that fans are unlikely to approach the story from a detached perspective, there is the larger issue that past a certain point fandom becomes essentially self sustaining. Once a fandom has existed for a long enough period, its most avid members have likely spent FAR more time engaging with other fan works than they have with the original art object. Fandom and the art it produces are, in this way, a sort of a folk tradition; artists are imitating and responding to other artists, characters become archetypes through which to explore certain ideas and dynamics, and the values and tastes of the most prolific and influential fan artists become as inseparable from a participants mental image of the character as the original work itself.

For an example, the affected theatrical mannerisms and cruelty Vriska adopts while in her Mindfang persona have become inseparable from the popular view of the character. Despite the fact that it's heavily signposted as a sort of role playing performance from the jump and she's more or less dropped it by the back half of the comic, it was nevertheless how she had acted in the bulk of her scenes around the time the ur-texts of homestuck fandom were being written, and as so an understandable misread of a character became inscribed into the fandom canon, and by extension her characterization in Homestuck 2.

All of this is extrapolated by the sort of unorthdox, building-the-plane-while-flying-it manner in which Hussie's writing style developed.

Based on his commentary, I get the sense that Andrew is an incredibly clever and thoughtful writer who lacks the theory and vocabulary to precisely describe his process. He tends to communicate in sort of abstract metaphors which aim to bridge the gap in explaining the actual conscious process he uses to plot his stories, but the way he talks about technical nuts and bolts writing craft stuff gives me the impression that his approach is largely intuitive, bordering on unconscious. He's a lot better at describing how he writes than what he writes or why.

You can of course piece a lot this together—his approach to art draws from the tradition of videogame spritework, where the visuals exist as a utilitarian vehicle for conveying information first and a work of illustration only inasmuch is needed to serve the greater story. His character writing draws more from a synthesis of literary fiction, sitcom writing, and "making up a guy" style posting humor, where characters are defined more by their life experiences and underlying psychology than by their goals and values, but also seem to have largely been constructed backwards from a starting point of a funny or interesting manner of speaking. Importantly though, I don't get the sense that these were conscious decisions, just that to Hussie they seemed like the logical way to approach these tasks, and I don't really think he could outline them in a way that would actually help a new team of creators grok how to draw and write in a way that feels like homestuck. I also don't think Hussie could actually explain the psychology that undergirds his character writing, I think he was mostly just drawing on his own life experience and imagining how this sort of character might logically speak and act.

As a novelist, and Hussie is one, both your thought processes and the sum total of your worldview and life experience are just as important to your work as the actual conscious decisions you're making, and I think that where there are gaps in understanding, the new writers are filling in the gaps with both a more conventional approach to the creative process and over a decade of accumulated fanon, and I think that's why homestuck 2 never really rises above feeling like a very well-made fanfic to me?

[emry-stars-art]

Hi, i just want to stop by to tell you how much I love your art and even more your Royal au

I hope this is in no way an offence but I found this post https://www.tumblr.com/gatorparade/721685064988131328 and immediately thought of you and His Highness Prince Andrew.

I wondered if on a walk Andrew stopped to freshen up and Abram, in keeping watch, found himself observing him from afar and what thoughts he might have, not so much at the Prince’s splendid figure but how much he manages to convey a calmness to him that he never had, a kind of serenity that radiates, that he can read in Andrew’s eyes when they finally meet.

Feel free to ignore this if it doesn't inspire you, I love everything you post regardless, you cannot know how much your blog brightens my days ✨

Okay im FINALLY HERE

I wish I could have done this more justice but this is what I got, I love the idea of Nathaniel/Abram first seeing the little bits of humanity and vulnerability (only the barest bits but it’s much more than the Moriyamas ever gave) from Prince Andrew and like. It jumpstarts the idea that Palmetto is really and truly different than Evermore or something TT

anyway the linked post [here] is first off gorgeous (it’s an oc if I remember, pls go give the artist some love if you can we appreciate ocs in this house) and second I LOVED THE VISION. Im sliding a little writing snippet under the cut so thank you for the ask :DD

Find the royal au masterpost here 💕

The prince said he just wanted to acclimate Nathaniel. His short, matter-of-fact way of speaking was still unfamiliar - he sounded as if he was being transparent, but Nathaniel knew better than to take royalty at their word.

It wasn’t as if he had the choice to refuse.

He accompanied the prince on his ride of the outer courtyard. There wasn’t much for Nathaniel to do; unfortunate, because he couldn’t distract himself with real work. The prince was bringing him deep into the untamed grounds, through thick trees and bushes. Secluded and private. Still, Nathaniel said nothing.

After countless minutes of what should have been easy silence, they reached a creek. The prince guided his horse to a stop and considered something, lost in thought until Nathaniel had dismounted and approached. It took more effort than normal to remove his glove.

Nathaniel’s hand moving into his space seemed to jog the prince. He blinked, took a heavier breath, and held a little too tightly as he always did to slide from the saddle.

Despite Nathaniel’s every anxiety, he brushed right by without a word. Nathaniel watched dumbly as the prince shook his hair free of its tie, combing it out and kneeling at the creek bed. He splashed his face with water and ran some over his scalp to combat the midday heat.

He didn’t seem to be watching his back. He wasn’t hesitant or afraid for Nathaniel to see him in a state like this. Easy, casual. Even now Nathaniel was playing the possibilities in his head. All the ways the prince could be harmed in that moment. How easy it was for Nathaniel to see it and know the royal family wasn’t as infallible and godlike as they claimed.

But, then - the Minyards had never claimed godhood. Though the water made the prince’s hair sparkle.

Prince Andrew didn’t think himself as far above Nathaniel as Nathaniel had assumed.

The prince straightened then, turning a look on Nathaniel as he retied his hair.

“You seem rather heat stressed,” he said flatly. “Are you certain you don’t need some water?”

Nathaniel was certainly stressed. Just maybe not from the heat. He hesitated before gesturing aimlessly with the reins he held, one horse in each hand. He’d gotten too distracted to tie them anywhere.

The prince met him at his own horse’s head, taking both reins without a word.

“Go,” he said. Nathaniel forced his mouth closed when he found he couldn’t speak, and the prince gave him another unimpressed look. “That’s an order, Nathaniel.”

So Nathaniel let go and stepped back, still hesitant to let the prince hold his horse when it should only have ever been the other way around. But the prince had already turned his attention to GS, stroking the white blaze of his nose with as blank an expression as ever. Nathaniel wondered briefly if the prince’s face ever changed as he went to obey.

(Also thank you for your other kind asks AM, I cherish them and you 🥰)

[wavypotatochips]

i love sergio so much, can u write another one? maybe where he likes to tease reader a lot but she’s very shy and introvert so sometimes he stops doing it because he might be scared he could offender her, like he’s very soft and lovey with her and maybe they both have a crush on each other ?

𝐀𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐨 𝐑𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐬

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: Sergio Ramos x Female Reader

𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘊𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 2.4k

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: You are a shy, introvert photographer who PSG hires to take pictures of the players. You have always had a soft spot for Sergio Ramos, even before you were hired. With more time spent together, your crush is just growing, especially considering how sweetly he treats you. One day, He believes he has overstepped the mark one day when he does something that makes you flee.

𝘈𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘦: I am so sorry for the wait!! (college has me in a chokehold rn) Of course I can write another! Thank you so much for requesting (: I'm not truly sure how to convey a very shy/ introverted individual, but I tried my best! Hope you like how I represent your idea ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚!!

[Translator Spanish is used- Note that translation may be wrong.]

(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ♥

With just a few seconds remaining, the striker has  a chance to score and is going to kick, but Sergio stops him, giving PSG the victory. You smile to yourself and raise your camera to your eyes while shooting pictures of everyone as the boys rush over to him to celebrate. In order to capture Ramos alone, you keep the camera raised while you wait for the ideal opportunity. As your wish is granted a short while later, you start snapping quickly. He turns to look at you and gives you a wink as you peek through the camera lens to take the picture. Your heart starts to beat quickly as a flush spreads over your cheeks. "Got any good shots?," Ricardo, one of the other photographers for PSG, inquires. Ricardo, who is your age, constantly makes an effort to start a short conversation with you despite the fact that he is aware that you might not be interested in talking. But, because you two work side by side all day, you are closer to him than the other employees. You don't say much to him; you just nod your head in return as you look down at the camera and start looking through the pictures you've shot. You are a PSG employee recruited to photograph them for the social media department. As you are far from an extrovert, it comes as a surprise to you that you even got the job. Yet, social media is to thank for your opportunity. As several of the player photographs appeared on the explore page and started going viral, someone from PSG's social media team came across your profile. The next thing you know, an interview has been scheduled, and the rest is history. With butterflies in your stomach, you take a bit longer than necessary to look at the picture you just shot of Sergio Ramos. As a spectator, you have always found Sergio Ramos to be handsome, and your emotions have only gotten stronger now that you have the chance to meet him in person and get to know him better. He never appeared to mind that you were shy, and he always adjusted how he interacted with you to make sure you were at ease, which was especially important given that you spend more than half of your time with guys. He always made sure you were comfortable, whether it was by ordering the boys to step aside when he knew you were too afraid to speak up or by leaving blue raspberry jolly ranchers on your desk when you weren't looking after noticing that you were thrilled to find a blue raspberry-flavored one day in a candy jar. He always shows you the greatest kindness, but you can never tell if it's because he likes you or is simply being nice. Even though you have the largest crush on him, your mind keeps tricking you and making you overly anxious to communicate with him more than half of the time you two speak. Despite your best efforts, it seems difficult for you to make a change.

“Y/N The team is heading back through the tunnel! We should make it back before they do tunnel shots.” Ricardo exclaims, giving you a small smile and then begins to jog towards the team tunnel. You give Ricardo a small smile as you nod your head, mentally thanking him for removing your focus from the picture of Sergio Ramos. 

Sergio Ramos looks up at the bleachers and waves to everyone before gazing straight, his smile widening as he spots you walking into the team tunnel. He takes off his shirt and slings it over his shoulder, the adrenaline pumping through his veins from the exhilaration he felt. He sees you gaze down at the camera and as you move towards the tunnel, he starts to lightly jog in your way. He hopes you would compliment him on his outstanding save. Thousands of voices in the stadium have undoubtedly already applauded him, but the only words that will truly resonate with him are those that come from your mouth. He has always had his sights set on you ever since you were hired. As he is frequently surrounded by pretentious models, something about your timidity makes him feel like you are a breath of "new air," which makes him feel compelled to protect you. There hasn't been enough talk between you and him to qualify as a conversation. While he sees you as a fragile flower, he is unsure about how to approach you. The majority of the time, he makes an effort to imply that he is interested in you by showing you small acts of kindness. Other times, though, he will playfully tease you because he enjoys seeing how you respond, whether it be with a smile or a blush to the cheeks.

You hum to yourself as you enter the tunnel, keeping your distance from the players by walking close against the wall. Ramos' voice can be heard saying "Hey Y/N!" as his arm is wrapped around your neck and rests on your shoulder. You flinch a little in surprise at what he does. Your heart beats fast as you swallow anxiously and look up. Your body begins to heat up as your eyes contact him, your eyes instantly scanning down to his tattooed, shirtless torso, which is gleaming with sweat. When you glance up into his eyes, he smiles and winks at you from above. He smirks and leans in to whisper into your ear, “Me desempeñé bien hoy porque sabía que estabas mirando (I performed so good today because I knew you were watching.)”  You let out a tiny laugh since you didn't know what to say or do. You look away as your brain begins to process how close you are to his bare chest, your heart is pounding rapidly as if it is going to burst out of your chest. You look around to try and find a way out of the circumstance you are now in, your breathing starts to get faster. Sergio obviously has no malicious intentions, but this is simply how your body responds. When he notices your irregular breathing, his smirk suddenly vanishes. "Y/N are you o-" he begins, but you hurriedly push his arm off your shoulder and move swiftly in the direction of the closest restroom. Ramos was unable to do anything but watch as you almost ran away from him, his joy leaving his body and being replaced with remorse.

And the fact that he did not see you for the rest of the evening only made him feel worse. 

Meanwhile, in the restroom, your smile never fades as you recover your breath before squealing. “Oh my gosh,” you mutter to yourself, "Oh my Gosh, I can't believe that just happened!” You start whispering as you begin to recount all that just occurred. “I performed so well today for you, Y/N.” "Oh?-" you exclaim as you put your hand on your chest, “-for me?... How sweet of you. Deberías mirar las fotos que tomé hoy, te ves tan sexy(You should look at the pictures I took today, you look so hot.)” You remember the warmth that radiated from his covered in sweat body and giggle as you put your hand on the shoulder that his arm was on. That may seem disgusting, but hey, Sergio Ramos is Sergio Ramos, so even that is acceptable. Your grin then fades as you realize you are in the restroom and you glance in the mirror. You ran away from him yet again. A few weeks ago, you made a vow to yourself that you would talk to him and return his flirtations, but once again, your feet move more quickly than your lips. You groan and run your hands through your hair, too ashamed to even step back outside to see him at this point. "Next time you better speak out!," you say, pointing in the mirror at yourself. “You can do this!" You sigh once more as you realize you must return outside in order to provide the pictures you took on the field to the social media department. You expected your next opportunity to come later that night, but as soon as you went out of the bathroom, you ran into the manager of the media department and immediately began assisting them with their needs. The following day was a rest day, so there was no team meeting. Yet, as the day of the next team practice drew near, he didn't approach you to chat as he typically does. He might occasionally wave or crack a little smile at you, but he hardly ever even blinked an eye at you. You were saddened by this because you assumed that since he now thought you were awkward, he had lost interest in you.

Days have passed, and it is now officially two weeks since your last 'regular' interaction with one another. The guys are practicing right now, and you're back in the restroom, trying to convince yourself that you can talk to him. You are holding your camera and are dressed in black leggings with a PSG windbreaker because it is a little chilly outside due to the wind. You're pacing back and forth while telling yourself, “Okay Y/N…. you can do this…. How hard can it be? You talk to people all the time…. Maybe you can practice with Ricardo first…” You bite your bottom lip, trying not to let your nerves get the best of you because you haven't even attempted anything. You sigh and check your watch, realizing that practice is about to end and that you should head back to the field right now to take any last-minute shots. You give yourself one final nod of approval before heading outdoors to the practice fields.

You go down the hallways, your eyes widen as you start to hear a lot of voices, and you start to walk quickly. Of course they end practice early the day I don't need them too, you think to yourself. You witness Ramos pouring water into his mouth outside, still without a shirt. You want to scream at the sight, but you decide against it and carry on walking. YAs you start to move, you are too preoccupied with your thoughts to notice that you are walking right toward him. “Y/N?” You become aware that you are once more in front of a shirtless Sergio Ramos when he asks a question.  Your mouth starts to open and close as if you are a fish out of water as you attempt to conceal the sound of your rapid heartbeat. Come on, say something! Your mouth starts to open and close as if you are a fish out of water as you attempt to conceal the sound of your rapid heartbeat. Come on, say something! Sergio Ramos observes your frozen state for a few seconds before smiling and shaking his head. Before leaving, he puts his palm on top of your head and slightly messes up your hair. As you turn around and watch him walk away, you are upset with yourself. This time you pushed back instead of giving in, even if your neck feels like it has been sewn shut. “Sergio!,” You call out to him. He swiftly turns around with a smile on his face as he realizes you are speaking to him first. He answers, "Yes?," back. You take a sharp breath and swallow, hoping to get rid of your nerves. “You s-should put on your shirt…. I-I don't want you getting sick.” "Alright," He nods and chuckles as he quickly pulls the practice jersey back over his head. With the last inner power you have at this moment, you approach him as he was putting his shirt back on. “Sergio, I also want to apologize,”  there is a brief pause as you glance down and start to play with your camera,“I know I don’t always show you how thankful I am for the things you do for me, but I truly am. It's just my inner thoughts getting the best of me, and I believe that if I don't know what to say- then you shouldn't say anything at all.. I'm so-" "Y/N, you don't need to apologize," Ramos interrupts you and says,  “I should've never made you feel uncomfortable by invading your personal space last game… I just didn’t know how to apologize to you so I did what I thought was best and kept my distance in hopes that it made you feel better.” You give him a puzzled expression. "I didn't feel uncomfortable at all; I just responded that way because you were too hot to handle."   Your lips are swiftly covered with your free hand as you think to yourself, there is no freaking way I just said that. Your eyes widen. Ramos' eyes light up with amusement as he approaches you, hoping to taunt you a little,"Oh yeah? So, am I too hot to handle, or did you really want me to put on my shirt because you didn't want me to get sick?” You use your hand to conceal your face as much as you can because your other hand is still holding the camera. Ramos wraps his arm around you and gives you a big bear embrace as he laughs at the sight of you feeling embarrassed. "I'm sorry, Y/N, but you are just too cute. I can't help but to mess with you a little." He glances down, but all he can see is the top of your head as you continue to mentally swear yourself out and conclude it's better to remain silent. "How about we go eat ice cream and I meet you in front of the staff housing in about two hours? He asks as he begins to rock you back and forth, "¿Eso te haría sentir mejor? (Would that make you feel better?)” He smiles once he feels you nod your head against his chest.“Great! Then it's a date.” "¿E-espera qué?(W-wait what?)" you ask, raising your head to look up at him, your chin pressing against his chest. He simply winks and releases his hold on you. "I'll see you later, princesa (princess)," he says as he turns to walk away. All you could do was look in disbelief because your brain was unable to comprehend what had just transpired. 

The one time you speak first, you get a date with your biggest crush. I suppose there are some risks that are worthwhile.

A/N: Part 2 with the ice cream date, maybe? c;

[butchsophiewalten]

there has been ANOTHER kyle-martin twitter space and i missed all of it :( do you happen to have any info on what was in there??

I was there the whole time! But because this wasn't a Q&A style space like the one from last week, I didn't take as many notes. A lot of it was just Kyle and Martin talking about their own personal interests and life anecdotes, which I found really interesting and enjoyed listening to, but felt uncomfortable writing down as like, Walten Files News, y'know? A lot of it was pretty candid and personal, not really something I want to be sharing as a Series Fun Fact.

The stuff I did jot down is pretty sparse, but here it is anyway:

-Martin mentions that he's actively working on a scene involving Rosemary while he's in the space. He talks about how he saved a lot of the Rosemary stuff for last, because he's excited to work on it.

-Martin says "No, I love the fans but I don't trust them with fucking Jack and Felix plushies". Kyle mentions an anecdote about how Martin didn't want to make human plushies because he didn't want people tormenting the Felix one.

-They spoke a lot in very vague terms about scenes in TWF4. Many distinct times of someone going "Hey, you know the thing about This scene? Hold on, I'll DM it to you" as a launching point for a different conversation, with few or no additional details about the scene in question. Late in the stream Martin mentions finding it funny to imagine the twitter space audience trying to 'peek into the room' to see what they're talking about, like a kid trying to peek at their Christmas presents.

-Martin talks about a scene in TWF4 which is inspired by a real nightmare he had that woke him up in a cold sweat.

-They mention how Showbear was retconned, and Martin talks about how the role Showbear was going to fill in the series has been broken up and split between two separate characters who supersede him, one of which is another white bear named "Mr. Snow".

-Martin talks for a bit about storytelling techniques he's learned from his favorite media/artwork. He brings up Better Call Saul a lot here, speaking mostly about the things it's taught him in the way of subtlety in storytelling and characterization, and how it's often much more effective to convey something in few words than to over-explain it in the hopes of absolute clarity.

-Martin mentions that when he inevitably has to recast Felix, he is not going to open auditions for him, he's going to hand-pick the VA himself, and it's most likely going to be someone he's already worked with or someone he knows through someone he's already worked with. He says that his concern is less to find someone who can emulate Coker's Felix voice, and more to find someone he thinks is most appropriate for the character.

-On the topic of Felix, Kyle brings up a vision he has in his mind of a post-crash Felix leaving Brighton for years, and coming back having gained a lot of weight and otherwise in a significantly poor state. Martin says that it's actually true that Felix gains some weight later in his life. (The implication here I imagine being that 1982 Felix is heavier than 1974 Felix was.)

-There's a pretty long conversation here about a fear Martin has of a specific scene in TWF4 starting a Fandom Ship that he really doesn't want to exist, and on the topic Kyle brings up the first random Terrible Walten Files Ship Idea he can think of, and lands on Jack and Susan. Martin has a very visceral reaction of disgust.

-Martin then starts talking about how he hasn't really fleshed out an idea for what Susan and Jack's relationship is like, but he thinks it'd be fun if they teamed up to scare people, since they're both pretty tall and intimidating.

-Martin ends the stream saying that he didn't finish the Rosemary scene he was working on, but that he's tired and wants to go to bed. He also goes "FUCK Rosemary Walten, man, why does she have so many fucking scenes."

[ahaura]

(Dec. 11) [Article] by Asem al-Nabih

Article title:

Speak up! We owe it to Refaat

Article text:

What can you say about someone like Refaat Alareer?

I’ve known Refaat since I was 10. I am now 33.

To describe him as a genius is an understatement. He was a source of many ideas. He was so humane.

Over the past days and weeks, he and I would walk every day. He always looked everywhere for inspiration. He looked at everything.

Anyone who knew Refaat, knows that he was a very solid man. Steadfast in unimaginable ways.

The day before he was killed he surprised me by telling me he felt tired.

“I’m tired of carrying water. I’m tired. I am responsible for 50 people.”

Refaat’s assassination is not just a loss to one family, it is a loss to us all. He was responsible for so many people, who sought him out for his wisdom and his ability to care.

We lost someone who was a voice of Gaza, who could convey the reality in Gaza.

He could have lived anywhere in the world. He didn’t have to stay in Gaza. He had the education and experience to work anywhere. He could have lived his best life somewhere else.

But he refused.

When I was out of the country earlier in the year, I remember telling him that I could get better job opportunities abroad.

He just said: “Or, you could come back here. You could do something here.”

So talk about Refaat. Write about him.

The last thing he said was that if he came out of this war alive, he wanted to concentrate on being a storyteller, he wanted to vent, let things out. That if God kept him alive, he would want to focus all his life to tell the stories of his people and their experiences and feelings.

Every day he and I would walk. We would go out to this or that area in search of eSIM cards or phone reception. You would find him climbing on top of high walls, lifting his arm up to get reception, putting himself in danger, just to convey a message.

He used to speak up.

Now we’re saying, speak about him. Because Refaat deserves this.

We all know about him because he used to speak about Gaza. All of Gaza needs to talk about him. The whole world needs to talk about him.

Speak up

I saw him after they bombed his house back in 2014. I saw how he went straight for the room where he used to keep all his students’ poems and stories.

They were all burned and scattered on the floor, and he would pick through the rubble to salvage what he could as if he was gathering treasure.

To him these stories and poems were the most precious memories of his beloved students. And he truly loved his students.

If you meet his students, they will tell you the same thing, that he loved them.

May God have mercy on him.

Palestine deserves that you speak about him. I personally don’t ask anything of the world because we’ve given up on the world. Gaza will speak for itself, we don’t need anyone’s help, because with God’s help, we are more than capable of saving ourselves.

But I do ask Refaat’s students and those he taught to write about him, because we are the ones who truly knew him for who he was.

The day before Refaat was killed, he and I saw a group of displaced people playing football at the Yarmouk football grounds in the afternoon. He wanted to take photos with the smoke of recent missile strikes rising in the background.

“I swear, the people of Gaza are hardheaded,” he told me. “The people of Gaza are hardheaded.”

He said it like an artist appreciating his work. Like he felt these people.

When he walked down the streets, he would advise random people, telling them where to go, where to be safe.

He never gossiped. He only spoke about what he saw with his own eyes.

And he saw a lot. That was why he would walk 25,000 steps a day.

One day, he found a dark, cold space somewhere. It had no light, no comforts, nothing. But it did have an internet connection. So he stopped. He wrote. He spoke out about what was happening.

That’s what he did.

Our people have been displaced so many times. Refaat and I went to visit the mayor of Gaza one day. He was stuck in the old city. The mayor and his family have been displaced three times. He has lost his son.

We’ve all been displaced so many times. My own family has been displaced four or five times since the Nakba. I have no friends left. I have no home.

But we bear it with dignity and honor. What has happened to us, has not happened to any other nation.

We remain dignified.

And none more so than Refaat. As we in Gaza have come to equate life with death, as we have come to feel that nothing matters any more, we must remember that Refaat always walked and talked.

His was a mission to tell the story of Gaza and its people. We honor Refaat by continuing that mission.

Speak up.

Asem al-Nabih is a friend of Refaat Alareer and one of the last people to see him alive.

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

“I Haven’t Been To Therapy, I Should Go Again”

A drabble of me using YN as a placeholder so I can write and detach myself enough from the situation + makes some great writing practice | no. 1 | made 7th Oct. 23 |

warnings: none, just a drabble of a therapy session

"You think you're a hole?" He giggles, leaning back onto the couch with a certain aloofness. It doesn't reach his eyes but the doctor offers a quick dash across his writing pad. This catches his eye. He wonders for a moment if the way his limbs are arranged is wrong and if they convey the wrong emotions he is feeling. He was never the best at that; articulating his emotions.

Oftentimes, he's been told he came off as disingenuous. Perhaps a bit too friendly — then sometimes, he's called antisocial and sullen.

' Always staring at his phone '. Bemoaned his mother; 'Never seeing who looked at him in the hopes of getting to know him but complaining to me that you were alone '.

So he wonders what his doctor writes now. If the man across from him in that lint-free sweater is hoping to know him or if he already has. If so, was he that unremarkable that a few written words were enough for the therapist to know? "(Y/N?)" "When you put it like that it sounds pervy".

He brings his gaze to the carpet. The idea of curling up on this couch was pushed away at the thought of putting his shoes on the fine upholstery. Even if he knows that the therapist's cat scratched the sides to filth — the couch cover was a few sizes too big and sometimes ended up revealing more than it was meant to cover — and it's been ages since the couch's glory days. His parents taught him better. They didn't teach him enough to be better, but they did teach him manners. "But why do you think of yourself that way?" (Y/N)'s emotions bubble. It stings his eyes but he manages to swallow it down. "I think it suits me. A hole is an absence of something, a void that could be filled. Sometimes they are useful. But most of the time people get scared of them. Especially the ones that seem endless, cavernous".

"And you think you're cavernous?"

He takes a breath.

"I think I'm greedy". The doctor stays quiet and (Y/N) has been through the session enough to know it's a prompting for him to continue. "A neverending void that's desperate for...something. Love, money, fulfillment, companionship". "You feel like you lack companionship?" He sinks lower into the couch.

"No. I do have friends. It's just, it's hard to tell them everything. There's just...it's scary, alright? Fuckin' terrifying."

"They're your friends, they should understand you. You said it yourself that you'd take a bullet for them".

"And I would. A thousand times over, I would", his tone mimics his hardened expression.

"But talking to them about this void feels daunting to you?" The doctor speaks in a voice that's more comforting than prying. As if nothing would come out of (Y/N) simply talking. But (Y/N) looks at the clock on the wall and knows this is a paid transaction. The doctor taps the writing pad in thought. He's lost him. (Y/N)'s walls were as obvious as it comes. Drawn up shoulders, clenched jaw, furrowed brows, avoiding eye contact. His knee is beginning to bounce, although the doctor knows it's not due to impatience. The anxious habit was a mindless way for his brain to stimulate a part of itself enough to keep him from going stir-crazy. "I'm selfish", he mutters. The doctor barely catches it but he elaborates. "My friends are amazing. I value them and cherish them. But I feel like my thoughts make me undeserving of such a bond. I try to make more friends but I feel like a newborn calf, stumbling around like a moron, worrying about overstepping or being too closed off. I try to understand why I want new friends and I can rationalize it as just seeking companionship. But I know it's more than that.”

“It's because I'm scared my friends will leave me once they see me. Which is ridiculous since we've known each other for years, still, that fear sticks with me. It's vile and repulsive and it doesn't shut up."

He exhales slowly, his shoulder drooping.

"That's why I'm selfish, greedy, cavernous, void of neediness and wants and fears and impulses".

A chuff of laughter causes his face to wrinkle in confusion. The therapist, this sweater-cladded man with his hair brushed and swept back; looking so put together across from (Y/N) that it makes him feel uncomfortable just being in the same room as him, was laughing.

“What?” he bites out. Defensive but curling the corners of his lips up to soften that sharpness. Lest he be too rude.

“You’re scared of being human,” he answers. “You’re more anxious than most, but you’re human. It’s normal to have these fears and anxiety,” he pauses to gauge the boy’s reaction.

“You’re in that phase in your life where people are expecting you to put down roots. A job. A lover. A car. A house.”

(Y/N) grimaces. But he continues.

“You told me your friends seemed to have it all together and you feel stuck. Do you think, maybe, your fear is your feeling of inadequacy? You comparing yourself to your peers, makes this void inside of you grow larger and so you look for other friends. People who don’t know you like your old friends do.”

(Y/N) gazes at the couch and then at the carpet. The clocks tick on for a minute too long and one of them adjusts themselves in their seats. The other is too hyperaware of every movement he makes and forces himself to be still. Akin to prey being caught in the sight of its natural predator.

“...Same time next month?” (Y/N) mutters as he reaches for his bag. The clock hands revealing their session had finally ended.

“Of course, I’ll invoice you today’s bill later, yeah?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

[nautilusopus]

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

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

Aw, thank you, I'm honoured!

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

In General:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[bomberqueen17]

character creation menu

like, when i'm in this mode of trying to make a thing and it's going sort of well i wind up sort of subsuming most of my attention to it

and i keep accidentally hijacking conversations IRL and god i am struggling not to do that but literally everything I encounter IRL Gives Me An Idea For That Book

(yes, i did send a message on instagram, the only platform i still have contact with him, to my friend the former Navy diver, to ask him for more dolphin insights. yeah. we'll see. it's been years and he got politically Weird [not that way!!! the other way actually don't worry] so i'm not sure how that'll go.)

but anyway, on Character Creation

one of the problems i have is that i have to kind of write things to find them. and so i was going along writing about a particular B-plot problem, and I had a character say something snippy that I then needed an uninvolved person to overhear and react to, for scene pacing reasons (idk, it just seemed right)

and i had needed an original character for another role in the A plot so i was like ah yes, Placeholder can do that and then we segue flawlessly back into the A plot, so I wrote a bunch of that but the character was such a bland placeholder (i devoted zero thought to their name, and was like i guess they'd call themself a consultant ok, and then my brain filled in "Rin" for their name, and I'm a thousand words in before I'm like. this person cannot be named Consultant Rin.) But I got the A plot sequence done and it holds up, and reading back over it, mm this person needs more personality.

I stepped away from the computer and was eating a meal with Dude and talking to him about something unrelated, and then I was musing on how various of his coworkers sound on Zoom calls, and the only one I can tell apart is the woman with a mild speech impediment, and he was telling me more about her and I suddenly in midsentence was like "oh I don't think I've ever written a character with a speech impediment" and like.

there's technical challenges to that, which was interesting to contemplate-- just like writing a character with an accent, where you don't want to descend into like, exotifying dialect but you do want to convey something of the uniqueness of this person's diction whenever they speak. so that's a fun and interesting constraint to put on a character, and can help with a real problem I have always had in my writing, where I love writing dialogue but everyone just talks like me unless I put a ton of attention into making sure they don't.

but this character immediately morphed in my mind, from Placeholder With Stolen Name to

Extremely Autistic Technician With Like, Absolutely No Rizz Who Within Five Minutes Becomes Everyone's Favorite Person

and is not based on anyone I know but I immediately knew and loved them and that is a much better standpoint from whence to create a character.

I also need to come up with names for everybody, and that's on the list, but I'm getting there. I'm just glad I have a mental image now. I don't do visual imagination stuff very well-- fanfiction is nice because I can usually find an image of a character and refer back to that, because I'm not exactly faceblind but I don't hold images well in my mind. With original characters it's so so so so hard, because I can't imagine that well, but it really helps me keep a voice distinctive if I can look at the person and think about them talking. So.

At least having some vague notion rather than like one of those blank wooden poseable artist figure model things helps.

[prismaticpichu]

If you’re someone out there who enjoys my writing—enjoys anything that I do with my words or prose or style—I feel there’s something you oughta know!

I would not be anywhere without the incredible authors I took inspiration from.

I’m admittedly still a wee lad trudging through high school, and I still gotta whole lot to learn! And I’m gonna have fun on that journey. But I legit think I’ve absorbed and learned more from reading all these gifted works more than the lessons we were taught over the years. Ofc, the fundamentals were taught there—teaching me the rules before I could break them. But it was these people that taught me how to break those rules and how to do them effectively. And when you’re a writer, I find, there is no better learning experience than reading words on a page!

My style really seems to be an amalgamation of so many different things and people—prolly a lot of subliminal stuff, too. Though I feel like there’s at least two I gotta give HUGE hugs to for being so influential <3

~

LuckyLadybug on FF.Net! ~ Literally the first ever FF7 fics I’ve ever read. Literally the sole reason I love Zack & Sephiroth’s friendship. Her fics are absolutely legendary, all written in a very consistently clean and swift style. It’s not an overload on sensory detail, but it also ain’t choppy in the slightest. It really does strike that perfect balance of rhythmic and simple that I always try to fall back on when I find myself getting too flowery! It’s a real life savor—for real! And speaking of For Reals, almost everything I craft about Zack & Sephiroth’s relationship stems from the bond she created. I learned so much about how to make emotional, powerful scenes that really can convey just how much people can platonically love each other. She’ll always be the true power of friendship queen! And the best Zack & Sephiroth author I’ve ever had the honor of reading.

@altocat! ~ Oh boy… there is SO much to say xD Where to even start? While Ladybug was the foundation of my little fanfic quest, I don’t think there’s a soul who helped me build and evolve more than Alto’s works. Because if you aren’t aware, this goddess is just an artist with words. We’re talking the most vivid and powerful imagery you can imagine! Imagery that was so powerful, in fact (and I don’t think she even knows this lol!), that at least a solid year of my works fall into this Altocat-emulating-esque era. Never with the intention to copy, of course, but to try my hand at creating prose that was rich in rhythm, language, and meaning. And while I think I did take this WAY too far sometimes (I can say that bc I’m the author- and I know what just sounds unreadable in retrospect xD), but it was part of the learning process. And one I’m still in the middle of today. For more context, Alto was also the one who taught me the value of fragments and isolating words for emphasis. That something concise could be powerful. Beautiful. Beatiful and valuable. Like words that mirror the characters’ quickened heart rates as their thoughts begin to splinter and spiral and how to wield syntax in a way that’s both enjoyably breathless and taut with anxiety at the same time. I learned how to imbue emotion to my work and peel it back so it’s pure and raw. Altocat is an absolute MASTER of angst, and while I used to write relatively “dark” things, I don’t think I really ever got them right until readings AMT’s (see this! for more details on that gem). In a similar vein, she also taught me the kind of impact that beginning and ending lines can have—how to not waste them and how they can circle back to each other in clever and gorgeous ways. I learned the importance of diction from her work; I learned the meaning of SO many new words lol; I learned how to make dialogue just a tad more interesting. Overall, really, I think Alto really did teach me how to write in a lot of ways. At least, in the sense of taking a step that I had no idea was in front of me. A step I didn’t know existed, because I really never saw more beautiful craft in my life.

Anywho! I think I’m rambling a bit x,D I hope I didn’t embarrass you, my friend. Or weird you out lol!!! I was just doing some reflecting, really, and I just needed you to know how impactful your fics have been to me. And you have no flipping idea how honored I am to know you as a mutual <3 Ty for everything ❤️ Ty for being you!!

(For reference, this is why I always say to NEVER underestimate the kind of impact your works may have on people. No matter how small or how insignificant you think they may be. Because who knows??? Maybe you’ll end up changing a life, too <33)

~

Thx for listening to this spiel, folks!!! Much love!! <33

[jichanxo]

how different is your creative process between writing and drawing (and in which areas)? do you have a different approach in each artform? if you have an idea, you first think how you'd write it or draw it?

This is definitely going to be long so. Cut.

Just to preface, obviously both writing and drawing are a form of art, but I tend to use the word “art” when I mean illustration or drawing, so that’s what I’m going to do here. And of course a disclaimer that I’m only speaking to my subjective experience.

Tbh I don’t think my approach to both is that different from each other, which is odd, because I’m used to thinking of them as very different processes. Probably because the mediums themselves are so different. But like with my writing, I tend to improvise. Feel it out, see how things go, throw ideas at the wall. I would probably say that I’m more willing to experiment with/scrap my art than my writing. Probably because I’m more confident with my art than my writing, so I find it easier to make judgments like that, or because I’ve made so much that throwing stuff away when it isn’t working is very easy. I get a bit more precious about my writing. I always want to keep it or at least try to adapt it into something less bad, lmao. I’m also just not as confident in my ability to judge what writing is worth keeping or worth permanently deleting. I just haven’t polished that skill for writing as much as I have for art.

With regards to planning my art – I definitely do sometimes, because I consider art my Serious Hobby, which means I do like to have a go at more serious projects as opposed to just improvising all the time (a contrast to my writing where my only “serious project” is senseific, and I fell into that by accident). The things I plan out are the idea/s I want to convey, and what imagery would express that. (like this IW art, and the second one in this umineko post) Or sometimes the imagery gets stuck in my head and I work from that. (yagami’s hair clinging to his neck here)

I actually find that planning too much can be detrimental to my art process. That is to say, not in terms of figuring out ideas/themes, but doing too much drafting. I find it very difficult to do things like clean lineart unless I’m having a Weirdly Good Art Moment, so I just don’t. Hence a lot of my art is very sketchy. I’m just not good at capturing the same looseness with “proper” lineart than with my sketches, so I keep them. Not worth fussing over. This is what works for me.

(even in this, and the first image here, you can see a lot of breaks and incomplete looking lines. not to say necessarily that this is a bad thing of course, but you can see that even in what I consider my “polished” work, I won’t use “proper” linework, but instead a high quality/detailed sketch. I imagine some other artists would have their proper linework stage after these sketches, but i choose to stop here)

this probably reads like I’m talking myself down, but that’s not really what I’m meaning to say – my point is that I don’t figure out details even for my bigger pieces, and that with drawn art I have a better time judging where my time is best spent. I don’t think I have a strong understanding of my writing by comparison, so I can’t decide how to play to my strengths or anything like that, I just have to see how i go.

For writing, either it’s “i’m in the mood for it” or “i’m not in the mood for it”. For art, it’s “today is a good day/bad day”, “today’s a painting day”, “today feels like masking”, “today I just want to sketch”, “today I’m too loose for what I want to work on”, “today I’m too stiff”. You can see the difference in my ability to judge, yeah? So a big difference is to do with just my own (relative) inexperience with writing as opposed to drawing.

I think the other major factor is the differences in the mediums themselves. A fanfic is sequential. There’s a change in time. Illustrations are by nature a single moment in time. Big difference there. Of course, there are comics and animatics and other art that’s both drawn and sequential, but since I don’t do a lot of that, just count that as exceptions for now (and in a way, those are kind of like a combination of writing and illustration, aren’t they?) I find there are some ideas that are conveyed easier or better through writing, and others where the better option is art.

So to answer your last question, often ideas come to me pre-packaged as a “writing idea” or an “art idea”, rather than having to decide that separately. In the case that a sequence is better conveyed with a visual element, that’s when it’s comic time. The gorillashipping comic is a great example of this. The punchline is at its best when it’s not explained in words, and the expression of the final panel does all the heavy lifting. I pitched this idea initially in words (as a joke on discord), but the comic version has more punch.

Comics are also great for when you want to avoid explaining context, and for when you want to force the reader to take a specific pace. Here’s the example I’m thinking of.

The visual space dedicated to the fighting forces you to take time to process, and that time is important for the buildup to the punchline. This wouldn’t work as well if we cut this down to, say, the four panels of the last example. So yeah, timing. And then my other point – context – why are these two fighting? I don’t know. Where are they? I don’t know. It’s not necessary for the joke. The same is true of the gorillashipping joke. How did the relationship between kiryu and kaito happen to make this even remotely possible? I don’t know. But I don’t need to explain it in a joke comic. With writing I find that it feels more necessary to make context clear to the reader so they understand what’s happening, but with illustrations, it’s a lot easier to skip over that. Obviously this isn’t impossible in a written format, but that’s just my personal opinion.

Admittedly I think this second example is doable with just pure writing (replace all the panels with descriptions of the fight that take long enough to simulate the time it takes for the reader to digest the build up, then make the punchline a wham line, yknow), but it varies on a case to case basis. Also I would not want to write fighting. Lmao. I’m not… any good at that. So I guess it is also just in part about playing to strengths.

Anyway, enough comic side tangent. I’ve already started talking about it there, but was going to do a comparison between writing and art as mediums. The main thing, I find, is that they have different strengths. More than strengths/weaknesses though, the mediums themselves convey some things with ambiguity, and other things with detail.

Like I first mentioned, time: it’s easier to convey the passage of time with writing than with illustration. And like I said before with comics – conveying context – because an illustration captures a single moment in time, it’s a lot easier to avoid context entirely, while it’s harder to avoid in writing. I’ve drawn kuwagami cuddles before, and there’s no background, nothing discernable as to the lead up or any other detail. And that’s great! I don’t want to have to invent a plausible reason for them to end up hugging. I can just do it, right? But sometimes it’s the context that makes things significant, so you do want it there. A better job for writing. Writing allows you to be detailed with your context, while illustration leaves it ambiguous. Different strengths. You just pick which best fits the situation.

It’s a similar case for a lot of different factors – they're conveyed differently through both mediums, and depending on your idea, some results are more desirable than others. Rather than explaining, it’s probably better to do a direct comparison. (If it makes any difference to your curiosity, I did the drawing first then the writing. You’ve caught me on a good art day, what a nice sketch…)

I’ll try not to talk too much because I think the comparison and table say enough, but you can see how, despite depicting basically the same thing, these two things feel pretty different from each other. The mediums do different things. The mood of both is similar, but not quite the same. It’s these differences that inform the choice of mediums instinctually. (but again. points at disclaimer. as is true with all “rules” about art, none of these are absolute. you can make an illustration that conveys a strong context. you can write fic that favours describing facial expressions and leaves the intended emotion ambiguous. i’m generalising to make a point here.)

I guess the other thing is that it’s pretty easy to do writing in bed on my phone compared to my art setup, lmao. Convenience and timing also play into it probably.

[petruchio]

Bestie I think you’re so right about the movie altering Lucy and Coryo’s romance to better convey the themes within the limitations of the medium!

Like it’s actually a huge book! I knew they would have to cut a lot for the sake of run time so I was fully expecting them to sacrifice some of the details that do so much heavy lifting for the deeper themes.

But I was so pleasantly surprised, and I honestly think that preserving the themes must have been a central goal in the production! I was noticing small changes - but they all seemed to serve keeping the major themes in tact?

Like I saw it with my family (who all read thg but not tbosas) and I went in wondering. Like how are they going to make a meaningful, faithful, adaptation of such a large book?? Will my family understand The Themes? And they did!

I think it speaks to Suzanne’s writing ability (her themes are layered throughout every level, so a few cuts won’t gut them entirely) and smart/intentional alterations.

Like you mention with cutting the kiss, I think doing so highlights the transactionality of this moment. Coryo won’t kiss her OR give her the compact until she denounces Billy taupe! Like literally he won’t save her life (do the right thing, like Tigris says) if she’s in love with someone else! Interesting!

But like you say, if they do !finally! kiss (without that monologue) it’s easier to miss how manipulative he’s being in that moment and the importance of it!

I think they made a similar smart choice with being shipped off to 8 - I might be wrong here!! But I’m pretty sure he isn’t ordered to be a peace keeper? He CHOOSES that because he sees it as his only avenue left? (Which I thought was some military industrial complex commentary sprinkled in but now I’m afraid I imagined this whole thing LOL)

So assuming I’m not misremembering - I thought making highbottom force him to become a peace keeper also worked similarly. Like letting him choose that (without the internal monologue) makes his motivations seem genuine when they aren’t fully. So it’s just better for the movie medium perhaps?

Anyways, rambling done lol thanks for listening 🌟

ohhhh how i love all of this!! i love you for taking the time to send all this to me -- and thank you for validating my reading of the altered love story!!

and YES i was so pleasantly surprised by how well they managed to maintain a lot of the thematic content of the book, esp because we KNOW how much they gutted it in the original trilogy. i have a couple theories on why: the first is that the filmmakers are devoted readers of my tumblr blog and they understood the importance of preserving the political themes from the novels when adapting them to the screen (ok obviously i am joking.) my real theories are -- the cultural conversation has shifted a LOT since the original films got made, and i think they were more aware and more *able* to be more explicit with so many of those ideas. i also wonder if the act of adapting the story of someone from capitol was easier than adapting someone from district 12 -- there's been much ink spilled over how we, the privileged moviegoers who are watching the film in theaters, are much more like capitolites than we are like katniss herself. and i wonder if that made it easier to adapt -- because one of the big critiques of the thg films is that they really glam jlaw up even when she's in district 12, and it makes scenes like the "remake" scenes kind of lose their power and biting social commentary. whereas with snow, and the capitol, and the games themselves, we're meant to understand that they ARE a facade, and the movie can really lean into that. (side note, my least fav costume in the whole movie was lucy gray's swimsuit. pretty much for that exact reason -- it was too ~perfect~ for the setting.)

to your point about the change with snow deciding vs being ordered to become a peacekeeper -- i honestly couldn't remember either so i went to see if i could find the quote from the book and it's this:

[...] But as he approached the dean, a cold dread washed over him. There, arranged on the table like lab specimens, were three items: an Academy napkin stained with grape punch, his mother’s silver compact, and a dingy white handkerchief. The meeting could not have lasted more than five minutes. Afterward, as agreed, Coriolanus headed directly to the Recruitment Center, where he became Panem’s newest, if not shiniest, Peacekeeper.

honestly i wish i remembered what exactly is meant by "as agreed" but i do think you're right that in the book it's more implied that he doesn't have another choice -- because he didn't win the monetary prize, he has to enroll. so i think you're right that the point is that the idea that it's his choice at all is in question because it's societal pressure and his family's financial status that kind of forces him into the military industrial complex. but i think, because they made this scene so explicit in the film, that you're right that having him be ordered to do it instead of hearing him justify it in his head manages to accomplish what we need it to for the sake of the plot moving forward (if kind of weakening that angle of sc's commentary)

also, here's something to chew on -- i was thinking as i was watching the film if part of the reason some of the changes didn't irritate me so much was because i was more forgiving of the need to shift things around to account for the lack of internal monologue because the book is written in third person instead of first person. i mean, obviously i am overly attached to pretty much everything about katniss, and yes that comes down even to her internal monologue, but i did wonder if that made some of the changes feel more natural to me, because we still kind of get them explained to us in the book as an observer, instead of listening to someone explain themselves to us (i don't know if that makes any sense?) -- but i guess what i'm trying to say is that maybe reading tbosas is more like watching a film, vs reading thg which is more like you are experiencing something alongside katniss? and that's because of the pov choice?

WELL that was a ramble! i'm always amazed by how much we can say about these books and films!! they're just so layered and so fascinating -- i'm loving all the conversations i've been seeing about tbosas. i feel like a lot of it is really starting to gel for me the more i read people's thoughts and analyses. (i still think the third act is messy though. no matter how great suzanne's themes are, i do think the pacing is rough. lol!)

[eating-plastic]

Turn That Frown Upside Down: Jester!Maison Talo x Fem!Reader

Warning: Fluff, comfort, angst, swearing, reader has a shitty (ex) boyfriend and (ex) friend, unhealthy relationship, cheating, they get their comeuppance in the end, so that means brief mentions of blood, injuries, death at the end, Maison becomes obsessed with reader which leads to blossoming yandere-esque tendencies basically, I wanted to imply that reader kinda matches his freak tho, reader is fem because I kinda got bored with keeping it gender neutral, jester AU (you'll see what I mean), probably some grammatical errors

Word Count: 7874 words

A/N: Happy Halloween everyone (early, late, or on the dot. Depends on when you read this)! So I know this seems really random and out of nowhere but let me explain. Basically I reblogged fanart of Maison dressed up as a jester by @voqalber. I wrote in the tags that I had an idea for a Jester!Maison x reader fic, and they encouraged me to actually write that fic out so here it is! A big thank you to them for giving me the inspiration to write this and also being super sweet! Enjoy everyone 🎃!

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

"Come one, come all, for the show of a lifetime! Witness thrills, chills, and laughs unlike ever before! Hurry hurry to the big top now! The show will begin in ten minutes!"

Your head shoots up to the speaker that was hung up near you. You can feel your hand slipping out of the grasp that was holding it as you listen to the announcement. Giddiness fills you as you turn your attention to the two other individuals you were attending the Uncanny Valley Halloween Carnival with.

"Hey guys, maybe we should go!" you chirp and motion towards the large tent in the center of the whole carnival.

"Why? it's probably just gonna be some lame magic act or clown show," scoffed your friend. You could practically hear her rolling her eyes at your childish joy for the main event of the night, though her face didn't convey it.

"Yeah, it sounds like a waste of time. I'd rather go on one of the rides. Seems like those are the only things worth doing around here," said your boyfriend, who didn't try to hide his dislike for your delight.

"Well, I-I don't know. I think it sounds fun...," your face drops and you can feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. "I mean...maybe it's a little childish, but what's wrong with that? It might still be fun."

"Well then why don't you go by yourself?" your friend shoots back, sounding rather pushy. "We don't want to go, so why don't you? We'll catch up with you when you're done."

"Oh...um, okay," you mumble and watch as both your friend and boyfriend don't waste any more time abandoning you where you stand.

You let out a disheartened sigh and swallow a thick lump that was forming in your throat. You hate how much you feel like crying right now.

You don't know why you even bothered bringing them or even why you still had them in your life, honestly. Your relationship with your boyfriend felt like it was beyond salvaging at this point, it felt like he merely tolerated you now. Scratch that, it was more like barely tolerated you because of how often he would snap at you when you'd go on about your interests and say straight to your face if they were stupid and immature. Not even you directly tearing up from this would stop him as he would then just yell at you to "grow up." Sure he'd attempt to make it up to you afterward, but that still didn't stop it from hurting like hell though.

You knew you should just leave him, but there was still this foolish little voice in your head that said it would get better. You didn't know why; fear of loneliness perhaps? Like at least being in a relationship was better than being in none at all? Either way, that was why you wanted to invite him to come to the carnival with you, even though you knew he would hate it. It wasn't until you mentioned that you would just go with your friend that he seemed to oddly give in.

Speaking of your friend, you noticed how she seemed to be acting a bit colder towards you as well, or at least she was being less secretive about it. At least she tried to seem polite towards you and your likes despite it becoming more and more obvious that she truly couldn't care less. What good are someone's manners if they aren't genuine, you'd sometimes wonder. And yet, just like your boyfriend, you kept her around. At least she gave you the excuse that she's just been very stressed lately. Whether that was true or not, you didn't know, but hey at least it was something.

All you wanted was to just make them both feel better. To try and have fun with them. To see them laugh and smile after who knows how long. And what better place to do that than at a place that was known for smiles and laughter?

'Whatever,' you thought. 'They'll find something they enjoy. And I already found mine.'

You make your way to the large tent that was beckoning to you, following the small crowd that was also heading to see the show. As you pass through the opening flaps of the entrance, you can feel your breath being taken away as you stare in awe at how spacious the inside is; it honestly felt like it was bigger on the inside. You gaze up at the lights that decorate the roof of the tent, bathing everything in a bright, vibrant glow. You find a seat, making sure you are sitting somewhere that will help you see everything the show has to offer.

After some waiting, the lights dim, and a disembodied voice begins to speak.

"Ladies. Gentlemen. You have all made an excellent choice tonight. Under this big top, you will witness sights unlike ever before. Sights meant to amaze, sights meant to scare, but above all, you will witness sights meant to amuse. It is my greatest honor and privilege to welcome you all...to the greatest. Show. On Earth!"

The lights begin to flash bright colors, almost giving the illusion of orange, green, and purple fireworks, making the crowd roar with wonder and excitement. You yourself can feel your eyes widening as you stare at the beautiful display. At the center of the tent, a spotlight shines on the source of the voice. A tall man stands clad in a red and black jester uniform and a white mask with a little red diamond on the left cheek covers his face, almost making him look like a mannequin from afar. You're honestly impressed that his voice can even come out so loud and clear despite him wearing it.

It's an odd uniform for what you assume to be the ringmaster to wear. Then again, you can see that the other performers in the shadows were also adorned in similar jester costumes. Even some of the booth workers you had seen previously wore the same jovial outfits, albeit without the masks.

'Must just be a part of the attire,' you figure. No matter, you already knew you were going to enjoy the show.

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

Every performance was phenomenal to you. The suspenseful acts had you on the edge of your seat, the scary acts would make your heart jolt in the best way, and the funny acts would have you bursting out in laughter unlike anything you had ever experienced before. You were so enthralled by the show that you didn't even notice the pair of eyes that would always drift to you at every chance.

The jesters always scanned the crowds, looking for the right person to lure to their private tents to consume. It could get quite competitive amongst them, often fighting over one person, before one would have to step down and find someone else. No matter what though, the ringmaster always had first pick.

Maison always got a better look of the crowd first. There in the center of the tent, arms spread and gazing out at everyone who had decided to see the show.

Tonight was no different as he panned his eyes from left to right, scanning every person in the audience. Just then, his eyes caught on to someone, but...not on someone he wanted to eat.

The first thing that he thought when he gazed at you from his place on the show floor was one word.

'Beautiful.'

He stared at you in your seat on the top row. Sitting so high up so that you could see everything. It made you look more angelic to him. But what really won the ringmaster over though, was your smile. It shined so bright that even in the dim lights of the crowd, it looked like the spotlight was on you. At least to Maison it was.

As the show continued, his eyes would constantly drift to you, taking in every one of your reactions like a sweet breath of fresh air. After each act, you would always clap with such enthusiasm, indicating your enjoyment. What he loved the most though, was how you would laugh at the funny acts. You wouldn't hide your mouth or try to stifle your laughter like most people. No, you let it out proudly, even grasping your stomach and rocking a bit at something really outrageous. Oh how he wished he could hear it clearly.

You didn't hide your joy, you flaunted it without a care in the world.

And Maison loved it.

After the show wrapped up and he gave his "end of the show" speech, he was antsy to find you again. He knew he'd have to meet with the other jesters to discuss who was going to be their potential meals, and he knew he'd have to say you just so he would ensure none of his fellow performers would lay a hand on you. After that, he didn't care about what the others decided or fought over. He excused himself quickly to look for you.

He needed to see you again. He needed to know your name, he needed to know what else brought you so much joy in your life, he needed to actually hear your laughter, and above all, he needed to know if he would ever see you here at the carnival again.

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

When you exit the tent, you don't see your boyfriend or friend waiting for you like you thought. You honestly figured that those two grumps wouldn't find anything they found fun, so they would be stuck just waiting for you and being bored.

You wander around, looking from booth after booth, ride after ride trying to find them. You try not to get too distracted from how fun a game looks or how thrilling an attraction looks. At the time, you would've thought that it would've been better if you had gotten side tracked. Now though, you're happy you discovered what you did. If you didn't, you wouldn't have ended up having such a wonderful night.

As you round a corner to look down a dim alleyway, you spot the two figures you were looking for. Just as you are about to approach them and call their names, you almost trip over your own two feet and let out a soft choke at the sight.

Everything looks like it's happening in slow motion as if your brain still doesn't want to process what's going on right in front of your eyes. Your "friend" practically throwing herself onto your "boyfriend" as they begin to make out like two shameless teenagers at a drive in. Their hands roaming everywhere over and underneath clothes.

Tears sting your eyes as your cheeks heat up in rage and humiliation. Your feet feel like they are glued to the ground despite you wanting so desperately to just turn and run away. To just jump in your car and speed off to your apartment, where you would just hide away for the rest of your life. There is also a tiny voice in your head though, that wants you to run up and kill the both of them with anything you could find in that dingy alley.

Eventually, you finally feel your legs moving, but they choose to go with the former thought you had over the latter. You dart around, looking for the entrance of the carnival so you can get in your car and cry properly, but there are so many people and your tears feel like they're coming down hard now. You ultimately decide to just hide away in a dark corner devoid of all people. You curl up into a ball, hiding your head in your knees as you begin to sob.

Your brain is a melting pot of sorrow and complete hatred. Hatred at both your now ex friend and ex boyfriend for betraying you, hatred at them for never even really liking you in the first place, hatred at them for fucking around behind your back and hurting you. But above all, you feel hatred towards yourself. You hate yourself for being so trusting, and naive, and childish and pathetic, and stupid.

"Stupid stupid stupid," you cry, shaking your head. "Worthless, no good, w-waste of space."

You mutter out every single cruel thing you could think of calling yourself because you really do feel like those things were what you were.

"...Unlovable," you finally choke out as a last nail in the coffin to your self esteem and happiness. If even your own boyfriend and friend didn't love or care about you, then you truly must be unlovable.

"Oh dear, what's this?" a male voice questions.

Your head rockets up and quickly turns to the sound. Through your blurry vision, you can see a tall man standing before you with his face obscured by a white mask. You completely forget that what this man is wearing is simply the attire of the performers at the show you had seen earlier, and instead assume it to be a masked psycho ready to kill you. A dark voice in your head tells you that you would honestly be okay with that after everything that has happened to you.

Seeing the look of fear in your red eyes, the man raises his hands to absentmindedly run his fingers along the porcelain lips of the mask. He then perks up in realization.

"I suppose you would feel more comfortable if I removed this, wouldn't you," he says while motioning to the mask.

You feel yourself being weirdly drawn towards this man's voice; it sounds so smooth and comforting, familiar even, but where did you hear it? Either way, you nod slowly.

"I figured. One moment, please," he says, before raising one hand to hold the front of the mask, while the other moves to the back of his head to undo the straps.

Once his mask is undone, he carefully removes it from his face and attaches it to his belt so it would dangle off of his hip. He then smooths over and adjusts his gray hair.

"There. That's better, right?" he asks, his voice sounding more clear and soft. He kneels down to look at you with warm eyes that hold a hint of empathy in them. Now seeing him better, you realize why his voice sounded so familiar, even without it being loud and grandiose. How could you forget the ringmaster of the show that gave you a moment of happiness before it was destroyed?

You don't know why, but you didn't expect him to look like an older gentleman despite seeing his gray hair, not that you were complaining. He was very handsome, and here he was feeling concerned for you. You even notice the little red diamond painted on his cheek corresponding with the mark on his mask; you find that to be oddly cute. When your brain finally registers that he asked you another question, you once again nod.

He then reaches into one of his sleeves to pull out a red handkerchief and holds it out to you. Tentatively, you take the cloth and wipe your eyes with it, sniffling all the while.

"Tell me, my dear, what has made you so miserable?" he tilts his head to rest his cheek on the palm of his hand. When Maison wanted to find you after the show, he absolutely did not want to find you like this.

'Oh you poor thing,' he thinks. Mere minutes ago you were all smiles and laughter. Now here you sit, sobbing and saying the most horrible things about yourself. It was awful, sounding akin to nails on a chalkboard to the ringmaster. He has to know what upset you, and he has to know how he can fix it.

"W-well mister...um," you begin, waiting for him to give you his name. You feel like you honestly have nothing left to lose, making yourself even more pathetic to a complete stranger.

"Talo. Maison Talo," he answers.

"Well Mr. Talo, I was a complete idiot," you restart, bluntly.

"Idiot? Come now, dear, you're being too hard on yourself," his face drops at the harsh word you are using to describe yourself.

"But it's true. I'm a complete fucking idiot!" you cry. "I came here with two people that I thought loved me, but no! I should've known they never cared about me! I should've known they'd do this to me, I should've left him, and I should've stopped having her as a friend, I-I should've...I sh-should...."

Your voice dissolves into another round of sobbing, causing Maison to carefully pull you into his arms to hold you while you cry. He gently pets your hair while softly cooing to you like a mother would to comfort her child; though he only got bits and pieces of the whole story through your rant, he could understand just what happened. You don't know why you're allowing a stranger to hold you, but you figure that you just don't have anything to lose anymore; you just don't care anymore. Besides, his embrace was warm, his voice was nice, and it felt like everything about him was wrapping around you like a blanket.

Even when your second round of tears ceases, you don't want him to let you go. Luckily, he doesn't. Despite not hearing your sobs anymore, he still holds you close to his chest. Your eyes drift around to look at anything to keep your mind off of the people who hurt you. They eventually settle on a weird pin that you hadn't noticed on Maison's jester costume before: a blue house with a yellow roof.

'How odd,' you think, though you guess jesters are supposed to be a bit strange and random. 'I saw those on the booth workers too. Must just be another part of the weird attire.'

You sigh and finally pull away to slump onto the ground, hand smoothing over some patches of dried grass and orange leaves.

Just then, a pleasant smell catches your attention, making you look around due to how strong it is. Maison seems to smell it too and gets an idea.

"You know, maybe a little treat would cheer you up, hm? Something sweet," he throws out, before standing and holding his hands out for you. "Come on, I know good food tends to cheer me up."

You look from his hands to his face. Staring into those soft eyes of his, this time with a jovial spark mixed in. The combination of his gaze with a small grumble in your stomach tells you that maybe a bit of food is what you need. You give him a weak smile before taking his hands into your own, allowing yourself to be pulled up.

Now that you both are standing, Maison holds his arm out for you to loop it with your own. You look at him oddly for a moment before you decide to do just that.

'Why not?' you think.

You are then led back to the main part of the carnival, though your eyes do dart around to try and spot your ex friend and ex boyfriend in the crowd. What would you do if you saw them? Ignore them? Try to hide again? Actually go up and confront them? No, if you tried to confront them, then you knew you would try to kill them, even if it was in front of everyone.

"Anything piquing your interest, Miss um...oh dear, how rude of me. I never asked you your name," Maison realizes, turning to look down at you.

"Hm? Oh! It's Y/N. Y/N LN," you squeak out, getting too lost in your thoughts for your own good.

"Such a pretty name, it's quite fitting for you," he smiles. His comment and look made your cheeks heat up. "Tell me, Miss. Y/N, what sounds good to you right now?"

"Hm," you think, looking from booth to booth before you just shrug. "I don't know. What do you like?"

The question causes Maison to freeze, but only for a brief moment. His eyes begin to dart around a bit, before settling on the first food booth they landed on.

"Apple pie," he says. Despite how quick he said it, it still sounds genuine, and you don't think anything odd about it. To really sell it though, he adds on. "I've always been fond of that dessert, over others."

"That does sound good," you nod. "I think I want that."

"An excellent choice, my dear, a very excellent choice," he grins and leads you to the titular booth.

Both Maison and the booth worker share a brief interaction of recognition before ordering a nice slice of warm apple pie for you. Before you can even get the chance to pay for your dessert, the tall jester at your side takes the plate and leads you to a picnic table off to the side.

"Huh? Hey, wait! Don't you want me to pay for that?" you stutter out, confused.

"Please, it's my treat. You've had such a rough night, allow me to make it better," Maison says with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Why?" you ask, while you both take a seat at the table. "I mean...why do you care?"

"A carnival is no place for sorrow. It is a place where you leave all sadness at the door. If you cry at a place like this, then it truly must've been hurt by something awful. Something that just a simple joke can't fix," he explains, resting his elbows on the table and interlocking his fingers.

"Ah," you begin to think while breaking off a piece of apple pie with a plastic fork. "I see that joy is a big deal to you. Your costume makes sense now."

Maison let out a short, endearing chuckle at that, making a small smile break out on your face.

"Happiness is a very beautiful thing," he begins, a fond grin on his face. "A smile is worth more than the finest of art, and laughter is more melodic than the finest of symphonies. When I gaze up into that crowd during a show, it is the greatest pleasure of mine to see the looks of delight on the audience's faces. And when I saw you in the crowd tonight, it was perfect. Your smile was so bright, and when I watched you laugh it felt like I was admiring a flawless painting. "

If your face wasn't warm before, then it was on fire now. You think back to how you must've looked while watching the show, and a wave of self consciousness washes over you.

"Wow, uh...hehe. Well...I've never heard anyone tell me that before," you laugh nervously. You aren't used to this kind of attention, being doted on like this and getting complimented in such a way. Despite the fluttery sensation it formed in your heart, you can't help but feel suspicious of Maison's intentions thanks to your damaged self esteem after seeing you-know-what. Surely there was no way that this handsome, older gentleman sitting in front of you could actually see you as akin to a work of perfection.

"Really?' he asks, confusion and even a hint of sadness embedded in his voice.

"Ah...well, no," you admit. You just shake your head and wave your hands dismissively. "Oh well, whatever. It really doesn't matter. I really don't wanna think about it, this is all about having fun right?"

Maison opens his mouth to speak, but closes it and changes the direction of the conversation.

"You're right. But just know that what I said is true," he flashes you a reassuring smile before motioning to your pie. "Now, why don't you finish that before it gets cold."

He didn't have to tell you twice. You go back to eating your dessert, savoring the tastes of apples, cinnamon, and brown sugar. It's a pleasant silence until you suddenly perk up when you realize something.

"Hey, I just remembered. I made you laugh. I made a jester laugh. That gives me extra points, right?"

Maison laughs once more, just as endearing as it was previously. He was wrong when he saw you in the crowds previously that night. You weren't just a little delight. No, now that he has had the chance to properly sit down with you, he could see that you were the embodiment of complete sunshine.

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

"Really? Huh, I didn't know that was how that trick was done. That's so cool," you say in awe.

"Isn't it? It is amazing the kind of illusions you can create using something so simple," Maison replies.

The two of you had been walking around the carnival, talking about different acts and tricks done during shows, your conversations being broken up by the occasional game.

"Oh! Maison! Can we try that one!" you suddenly pipe up, pointing to another game booth.

"Of course we can," he grins and ushers you up to the booth.

Like with getting your slice of pie, the ringmaster gives a greeting of familiarity to his fellow jester when you two get close enough. The game you had pointed to was a simple game where you would try to knock down stacked milk bottles.

The booth worker sets three baseballs on the counter, but before you could grab one, Maison stops you.

"Wait a moment," he says while taking the balls from you. You cock your head to the side in confusion until you watch in awe as the older gentleman juggles the three baseballs. You almost think he's trying to show off until he successfully stops without having any of the balls hit the ground, and hands them back to you. "A bit of good luck for you."

You take them from him with a cheerful "thank you" before turning your attention to the bottles.

First baseball, two bottles down.

Second baseball, three bottles down.

Only one baseball and one bottle left.

You take a deep breath through your nose as you carefully line up your shot. You squint one of your eyes and your tongue creeps past your lips in concentration. Maison had seen this look of focus on your face during some of the previous games; he found it to be absolutely adorable. You move your arm back and....

The last bottle clatters loudly to the floor!

You stare in shock for a brief moment, before a noise of triumph escapes you.

"Wahoo! I did it! I did it!" you cheer.

"All thanks to my little bit of good luck," Maison jokes, but still proudly applauds your work.

With a polite "here ya go," the booth worker hands you your prize: a cute ghost plushie with a red and black ribbon tied around its neck as a bow. You notice how it reminds you of Maison's jester uniform, and it makes you love it even more.

"Thank you!" you grin at the other jester before turning to walk with Maison some more until you suddenly stop.

A soft gasp leaves your lips as you stare at two familiar faces in the crowd ahead. Both your ex friend and ex boyfriend were looking around and calling your name as if they didn't just get done fucking in a dingy alley. The sight shatters the perfect bubble of fun Maison had constructed for you that night, and you squeeze the plushie in your arms for comfort like a child would after having a bad dream.

Maison quickly follows your line of sight and can feel the rage boiling within him at the sight of the two individuals who had broken your spirits. He quickly motions his fellow jester closer to him and mutters something in the booth worker's ear. They pull away and share a nod of understanding before the ringmaster wraps his hands around your shoulders and turns you both around so that you are standing in front of him and out of sight from the two most loathed people in both of your worlds.

"It's okay. Just keep walking," Maison whispers comfortingly into your ear.

After maneuvering deeper into the crowds for a bit, you both come out on the other side of the carnival by a ferris wheel.

"Thank you," you mumble, still holding your ghost plush close to your chest. You let out a disheartened sigh though, when you realize how late it is and that the fun would have to come to an end. "I should start thinking about heading home though. As much as I don't want to...I know I have to go back and gather them to head on out. I am their ride after all. Augh and then I'm gonna have to confront them about what I saw."

You can feel tears welling up in your eyes at the thought. Even though you hated them and would give anything to call them the most abhorrent shit you could come up with, hell you literally had the brief thought about killing them, you are filled to the brim with anxiety about the whole thing and knew you wouldn't be able to do any of those things despite how much you wanted to.

"Hey, it'll be okay, shhh," Maison coos and pulls you into his arms once more, although this time you notice how he seems to be holding you tighter than he did previously.

"Why can't they just go away? W-Why can't they just disappear?" you sob and bury your face into his chest.

"Shh shhh, I know I know," he says while petting your hair like before. He replays your questions in his head though, and has to keep from having a sinister smile spread across his lips at the thought.

''Why can't they just go away? Why can't they just disappear?' Oh, my darling, they will disappear before the night is done,' Maison thinks as he continues to console you.

"Why do you need them to ride back with you?" he asks. You pull away confused, and give him a look that says 'isn't it obvious?'"They betrayed you, hurt you, you want to cut them out of your life entirely, so why give them kindness and courtesy that they don't deserve?"

"I...I can't just do that," you say, but your stutter gives it away that you are considering it.

"Yes, you can. You can, and you will. If you do this, the fun will last just a little while longer. Besides, taking the bus won't kill them," Maison pushes. You mull it over in your head for a bit, before looking back up to him.

"Okay...I'll do it," you decide, nodding your head to confirm it to both him and yourself.

He carefully moves his hand to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, before resting his palm against your cheek. He takes in just how beautiful you look under the bright, colorful lights of the ferris wheel, cementing your face in his mind.

Slowly, Maison's eyes travel from your face and then upwards and he looks at the large attraction you both were standing by. A small smile forms and he looks back to you.

"How about one last bit of fun for the night, hm?" he asks. You look behind you at the bright, spinning wheel and feel a smile form on your own lips as well.

"I'd like that very much," you beam, looking up at him.

With that, you both turn to go on the ride. Once your car comes to a halt and it's safe to board, Maison opens the door for you and motions for you to enter. You smile at that and take a seat on the bench inside. The older man enters after you and sits at your side.

There is a pause before the ride starts up and the car slowly begins to rise upwards. Without noticing, your hand grasps Maison's instinctually from the sudden movement.

"You're okay, look," he reassures and squeezes your hand. He then points out the large window in front of you. You look ahead and your eyes widen as you slowly begin to see more and more of the Uncanny Valley from above. Though it is dark, all of the lights from the street lamps, windows of buildings, and signs for different establishments illuminate the island perfectly.

"Woah," you breathe, completely mesmerized by the view. "You can see everything from up here."

"Indeed," Maison agrees, taking in his own beautiful sight of your wowed face. "Everyone seems to prefer seeing the view during the day. I suppose you can see everything clearer then. But I have always been fond of seeing lights when it's dark. And then there are the stars and the moon that make it all seem so right."

You stop your task of trying to spot your apartment complex from the ferris wheel as his words begin to sink in. You quickly noticed how he talks about the things he finds beautiful. He talks about them like they are fine art, mentioning every detail he loves about them. Happiness, the view.

You.

The gentle feeling of Maison's fingertips against your chin makes you turn to face him. If the view of the Uncanny Valley at night didn't take your breath away, then the realization of how close you two are does. All thoughts in your head seem to cease as you stare into his eyes and notice him carefully easing your face closer to his.

Would you have done the same thing under different circumstances, or even under the same circumstances? You have no idea. And yet you can't stop yourself from saying "yes" every time. As long as it was with Maison, then yes, you would've done what you did at the end of the night. He turned your night from horrible to perfect, resurrected your happiness after you thought your cheating ex boyfriend and ex friend killed it, made you actually feel cared for and loved for the first time in forever.

It felt right. You and him felt right.

It was gentle, his lips softly brushing over yours for a moment, savoring it before kissing you properly. It feels like he's treating you like you're made of porcelain like his mask, as if the most sudden movement would make you crack.

No, Maison will make sure you never shatter on his watch. As long as you are his, you will never feel neglected or unloved. This carnival would become your new home, his tent would become your new home. The whole fairgrounds would be your shelter from the cruelties that come with life. A place for him to construct a perfect bubble for you to forget your worries and grief, just like tonight.

Maybe he'd even make you a performer as well, if that was what you wanted. He has seen your interest in different acts during the show. With some practice, you could become a star, though you already are in his heart. Just imagine you in your jester costume and mask, captivating the audience, wowing them, scaring them, or making them laugh. Of course some of the others would probably protest that decision, hell they'd probably protest him loving you, but he was the ringmaster and he had the last say. If he said you're staying, then you're staying. And if he says you would perform, then you'd perform.

Slowly, Maison pulls away, getting a brief view of the look of content on your face. Your eyes flutter open and you raise a hand to touch your lips.

"You kissed me..." your voice comes out a little bit louder than a whisper as you utter the only thing your reeling mind can come up with.

"I did," the ringmaster says with a warm smile.

You can't think of anything else to say, so you just beam back at him and rest your head on his shoulder. He wraps an arm around you and holds you closer as you both feel yourselves starting to descend back down to the ground.

Once the car stops, Maison steps out and holds the door open for you just like before. With his arm held out for you, he leads you through the carnival and towards the entrance. You expect to say your goodbyes there but to your surprise, he continues walking into the parking lot, slowing his pace and moving you in front of him so you can find your car.

Now standing by your vehicle, you turn back to look up at the jester that made your night so wonderful.

"I guess this is goodbye, huh?" you mumble while rubbing your arm.

"Goodbye for now," he corrects, holding your face in his hands and giving you one last smile for the night, which you return. "If you ever need a bit of cheering up again, you know where to find me. Until then however...how about a little something to remember me by?"

Suddenly, he pulls out a deck of playing cards from out of nowhere and fans them out to you.

"Pick a card, but do not tell me what it is," he says, speaking like he's performed this trick a thousand times.

You look at the cards carefully, eyes panning over each one, until you finally take the one that speaks to you. The card is the ace of diamonds.

"Good, now set it back in the deck," he continues, waiting for you to do as he says. With that, he reshuffles the cards, even closing his eyes to really show off to you. Once he's done, he stacks the deck nicely in his hands and takes the first card on the top. "Is this your card?"

Staring back at you is the same red diamond you had seen previously.

"Yes sir," you chirp, taking the card again." But I know the trick to this one."

"Oh? And what's that?" Maison questions, intrigued.

"The whole deck is the same card; they're all the ace of diamonds," you nod confidently.

"Really?" he turns the deck up so that the front of the cards is facing you. To your surprise, you can see that it really is a normal deck with the different suits and all.

"Woah," you breathe, amazement in your voice. "Must be great being so lucky."

"Of course it is. I wouldn't have been able to meet you if I wasn't," Maison then moves his hands around the deck of cards until they vanish into thin air.

"Wait, don't you want this card back?" you ask, all while you are trying to figure out where a whole deck of cards went.

"I said I was going to give you something to remember me by," he retorts. "Think of it as a good luck charm. Besides, I'm sure I have another one lying around somewhere."

You look from the card then back to the ringmaster, smiling.

"Thank you, Maison. Thank you for everything. You really made the night perfect."

"It is my pleasure, always," he gives you a little bow, before taking one of your hands into his own and raising it to his lip to plant a soft kiss to your knuckles. "Please be safe my dear and sleep well."

"Y-Yeah, of course, "you let out a shy chuckle, still not used to this level of affection, but you can certainly get there. "Goodnight to you too."

With that, Maison takes a step back, giving you the space to climb into your car. Once you start it up, you look out your window and give him a small wave, which he returns.

The tall jester stands there watching as your car gets farther and farther away until it disappears from view entirely.

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

You can practically feel yourself dance walking down the hallway to your apartment, as the sounds of carnival music still play in your ears. After letting yourself in and locking the front door behind you, you set your ghost plushie down on a counter in your kitchen along with the card. You fidget with the little stubby arms of your soft specter, humming a tune you hear sometime tonight, your eyes drifting to the familiar colored ribbon around its neck.

You then turn your attention to the card, just flipping it between your fingers until you stop when you notice something that definitely was not there before. The front of the card is the same, it still shows the ace of diamonds, but on the back there is writing; a little message addressed to you.

To my dearest little diamond, Y/N,

Your beauty shall remain in my mind always. Your smile, your laugh, and you, sweet little you. Please don't be a stranger, my heart would never be able to take it.

With love,

Maison.

Underneath the sweet message, was a phone number.

You place your hand over your heart and grin widely from ear to ear. How could you possibly stay away from the ringmaster after tonight? The affection he gave you was addicting. He was addicting. And you were obsessed. You fell right into his trap, right where you wanted to be.

His plan was to win you over and he got it and so much more.

No, you definitely won't be a stranger at all.

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

It was very late at night, and all light had been extinguished from the carnival, making you think that no one was around. However, if you went just a little bit deeper into the fairgrounds, you would notice the lights still on in the large tent at the center, and speaking could be heard from within.

"Ladies. Gentlemen. What a very special performance I have for you tonight," the loud voice came from none other than the ringmaster, wearing his signature mask as always, but the audience was not his usual audience. No, the audience was of his fellow jesters.

The voice caused two figures that were tied to the spinning wheels used for knife throwing to stir. Their heads pounded hard and they could both taste a hint of blood in their mouths.

"These two 'delightful' individuals decided to so graciously volunteer for this act. Isn't that just so 'polite' of them?" Maison continued on, bitter sarcasm heavy in his voice. The whole crowd began to jeer at the two partially conscious people.

Once they fully awaken, both your ex friend and ex boyfriend try to speak, to ask what the hell's going on, but are prohibited by the large clumps of cloth in their mouths.

"I must admit, I have never performed a live dissection act, but do you all, my lovely performers, not deserve something new? Something fresh?" he carried on, voice becoming even more grandiose. The crowd responded with a noise of uncertainty until their ringmaster continued. "I know what you are all thinking: isn't this all a waste of two perfectly good meals? Oh, I can assure you all, these two are much too rotten for consumption. No no no, these...things are only good for an act now."

The crowd only got more rowdy at that, but Maison raised his hands to calm them.

"Ah, I knew you all wouldn't want to take my word for it, so why don't we all get a little taste?" he moved to stand in front of a table that was covered with a black and white checkered cloth, making sure his fellow jester and the "performers" would be able to see what was underneath the sheet.

With one swift motion, the cloth was ripped from the table, revealing a row of sharp knives varying in size. If the two hostages weren't panicking already, then they definitely were now. Muffled cries of fear fill the show floor, and your ex friend even had tears streaming down her cheeks.

Maison picked up a steak knife and slowly crept towards your ex boyfriend, like a predator stalking its prey. Once he got close enough, he speaks quietly, so only the two unwilling volunteers could hear.

"It's funny," he began, dragging his red nails along the edge of the blade. "I think I would've done this, even if you hadn't hurt Y/N."

His eyes went wide at the sound of your name and at the jester in front of him bringing the blade closer to his face.

"No matter what, you never deserved her," Maison purrs, sinisterly. "She was mine the moment I laid eyes on her tonight. No matter what, you were never worthy of her, you stupid boy."

He let out a sickeningly playful click of his tongue before quickly turning to your ex friend.

"And you," he sneered. "What kind of friend are you?" Had you been nice, you wouldn't have been here. You would've been at home, sleeping in bed like an infant....Yet here you are."

He then looked between the two of them. Though they couldn't see his face, they could see his eyes through the holes in his mask, and oh, how they were seething with rage.

"I don't know which one of you is more rotten," Maison said, though his voice was much louder so his audience would hear him. Slowly he turned to look back at the male hostage, and a cruel grin formed under his mask. "But I think I'll try you, just because I hate you more."

Like a flash, he swiped the knife across your ex boyfriend's cheek, carving it so it looked like half of a bloody smile was on his face. The crowd roared with excitement at that, antsy to get their hands on some of the knives as well.

With one hand, Maison raised his mask up enough so that his mouth was exposed. Carefully, he dragged the bloodied knife across his tongue, getting the taste of the crimson that stained the blade. In an instant, his face contorted in disgust and he pulls his mask down.

"Bitter, not to my liking...but I'm sure some of you may enjoy it," he announced, watching as his consensus seemed to intrigue some of his fellow performers. He then motioned his knife to the female hostage before continuing. "As for her...well...I think I'll let you all find that out for yourselves. Ladies and gentlemen, I now invite you all to come. On. Down!"

With that, a number of jesters got up from their seats to line up and take a blade while others sat back to watch the carnage just as their ringmaster was doing.

Such a gruesome display was before him. Something that would've made him sick had the "volunteers" been different. But for you, he got nothing but a sick sense of catharsis watching it.

Maison smiled as he thought about you. He thought about what you had whimpered when you both found refuge at the ferris wheel.

"Why can't they go away? Why can't they just disappear?"

'Well, my little diamond,' he thought. 'They're gone now. They'll never hurt you again. No one will ever hurt you. I will make sure of that.'

[ohnoitstbskyen]

Herro tb skyen, ive been watching your boss designs of bloodborne since i would never be able to play it myself and it's been really really interesting watch you git gud play and give your analysis on it.

It also makes me wonder if being so articulate(?) comes just naturally to you or did you train yourself somewhat to translate your thoughts, because often times i feel super smart and articulate thought-wise but struggle to convey that whether in writing or speech.

Insofar as I am articulate, that is a learned skill. There is no inborn part of me that makes me any better at media analysis or writing or speaking than anyone else, which you can definitely tell if you watch some of my oldest videos. Language and speech and rhetoric are all things you can practise, and this job has forced me to spend a lot of hours on it.

Doing six years of university in the humanities didn't hurt either. That was a lot of papers I had to write.

And believe me, my ideas absolutely do not always come out the way I feel them in my head, in fact they almost never do, and most of the writers and YouTubers I know, many of whom are smarter and more articulate than I am, would say the same.

Thank you for the kind words!