#Twisted Fiction

[mpregonthebrain]

Twisted Fiction

This scene occurs around the 37 minute mark. Warning there is blood and gore involved.

There is a birth scene that follows, but it isn't a conventional birth.

[grapecola]

Fear . . .

'Fear' is a short piece I wrote during my Writers' Studio Unlocking Creativity course. Read it #writer #WritingCommunity

**Week 2 of Unlocking Creativity took us into the beginnings of creating something bigger. Finding the setting and really getting to the nitty gritty of characters. ‘Fear’ is the first piece I produced for the Writers’ Studio writers’ board. I really enjoyed writing this one. It’s probably important to note that for the majority of pieces, we had small word limits of about 300 or 350…

[444-shawty]

New book box! 😍😍🔥🔥😮‍💨😮‍💨🤤🤤 I’m obsessed!

[thenefilim]

Review - Twisted Fiction (2023)

Twisted Fiction is a collection of three stories dealing with sexuality and relationships taken to places that are far from healthy.

https://www.voicesfromthebalcony.com/2024/05/17/twisted-fiction-2023-review/

[egophiliac]

You can’t pick Lilia for this. But who is your other favorite short character in Twst?

I like the angry little king boy 🌹

[gallusrostromegalus]

A Miracle In The Night

Sometimes, you get an idea for a lightly fucked up short story. TW: Death, mild gore, Plot Twist :)

---

She travels through the night And listens

Some might call her home dark and cold and akin to the lowest levels of hell, But their heaven burns her eyes and skin and her very breath To her, The Endless Night is Paradise

The whole world was like this once, in the very beginning The Divine Darkness which contains the potential for every tragedy and miracle and everything in between, and she is blessed  to travel through the gardens of creation.

The Night created everything, even God, who lives in the burning world and blesses the sinless beings of the night with the very force of life.

But not even Paradise is free of suffering.

It should be this way, of course- nothing would ever happen otherwise. Everything that happens is a miracle. It’s just a question of who the Miracle is for.

There will be a Miracle tonight. She can feel it- the tension is electric across her skin, gut tightening, every sense on edge.

Starvation leads to such peculiar sensitivity.

She’s on the verge of death-  It should be this way, otherwise nothing could be alive. But she’s closer to the edge than usual.

It’s been so long since she felt the Burning Love of God within her. The delicious taste of good fortune in the night Chasing ecstasy with a racing heart and feeling her body fly The heat in her belly, seeping out through her until it filled her with the Divine Warmth of God’s Love.

It’s been so, so long since she’s eaten.

It’s been uneasy- the breathing of the world has been unsteady of late- too early and too late, out of time like it has become ill and all things suffer for it. There is nothing to partake of in her usual hunting grounds, so she has traveled far, far from home, into a brighter and hotter part of the night.

Here, the protective wall between her and the burning world exists only in scattered fragments, and strange and monstrous things traverse the thin veil between their worlds.

Here, the eternal night has been invaded by noxious, screaming beasts from the burning world above.  They race with their bodies straddling the barrier between their worlds, far faster than anything has the right to fly, howling with a deafening voice that can be heard for hundreds of miles.

It’s a problem because she cannot hear the songs of her prey.

Everything sings, if one will listen. The high, chiming pings of the smallest stars flashing with bioluminescence around her. The long, low songs of the fire-breathers, who hunt here in the abyss for one of her oldest brothers, but return to the barrier and briefly cross it to breathe before they return. Even the earth sings- the moan and crack of her body as she shifts her weight, the almost invisible inhale and exhale of her seasons. She even builds great musical instruments of ash and smoke and an even hotter burning than the world above, singing the tale of the first days of creation in honor of the endless night.

But the behemoths do not sing.

They scream and scream and scream and their piss reeks of vile poison and overexertion. Almost like the way an injured animal can put on a miraculous turn of speed to escape pursuit. What might be pursuing such behemoths is an awful but intriguing consideration. Perhaps the behemoths are the little darting beings of the burning world, and the thing they flee the equivalent of herself. She’s seen it before, when the moon is high and she travels up to the barrier, and the little dancing bodies leap across the barrier to avoid her.

To that end, she can only wish her counterpart good hunting- both in the sympathy between one apex predator and another, and the hope that maybe it will get better at catching the behemoths before they come into her world.

Still, Where there is disturbance, There is also opportunity.

There are rumors from those that live closer to the barrier that the behemoths piss poison but shit out bounties- the wastes of these things are food direct from the burning world, where God lives, and that waste is full of The Divine Warmth of Life. The direct waste is devoured by the smallest and fastest things first, but when they are clustered at their feast, they are easier for the larger beings to partake in, and so too larger things than they until even her most beautiful borderland sister with the belly pale as the moon is now as round as it, fat with the blessing of pups.

So she has ventured as close as she dares to the world of her sisters in hopes of finding the rumored prey so full of the Burning Love of God.

She needs it. She can’t live without it.

A Miracle will happen tonight.

Whether for her or the crawling lives of the deepest night remains to be seen.

She follows the terrible screaming song of the behemoth in silence and prays for a miracle. She does not sing praise when she prays. She preys when she prays.

The highest reverence to The Divine Night is to Listen. To travel in silence, and take in all the songs of The Night.

So she makes herself silent and listens and listens and listens to the screaming song, hoping that somewhere in the noise, she can hear the soft voice of God.

This time God answers with a voice like thunder.

It really is like being too close to a lightning strike, the way the noise viscerally passes through her and lights up every nerve, teeth gritting and body thrashing as she feels the voice of God the same way she feels the body of a lover against her own.

The scream of the behemoth changes. It sputters, then pitches wildly, low visceral injury and high keening pain, like the fire-breathers when they try to hunt the largest of her brothers and become prey themselves.

Oh, what a beautiful song to something like her.

She aches, weak and tired, but hope and joy surge through her and she forces herself to move at speed, even for all the energy it takes, because perhaps the miracle is for her tonight- 

She flies as fast as she can towards the dying behemoth, as does every brother and sister and ancestor and descendant, all as desperate to feast upon God’s Love as she- all of them race forward but then up, and up and up up to where the Behemoth is sinking into their world- It has run upon a fragment of the protective barrier hard enough to tear it's side and break it's back. There is the terrible acrid scent of it’s noxious  piss and if she were not on the verge of starvation it might be enough to put her off the feast.  

But she flies on and up- even weak with hunger she is one of the largest and fastest of her family when she needs to be, so she is the first to smell other strange things from the behemoth- burning flavors that sting her nose and mouth, as well as sweet things that confuse intrigue, and-

Oh. Oh, GOD!

It’s blood but nothing like any blood she’s tasted before- it’s actually HOT in the night, burning with the warmth of the other world even this far from it’s origin, rich and fatty and metallic like the flesh of a fallen fire-breather but even more so.  She spreads her wings and sways her hips and spine to fly as fast as she can, the way a lover pursues her- full of nothing but adoration and a desire to make their bodies as one.

Then in a beam of moonlight, she sees the first of the bodies from the burning world.

The frenzy at the behemoth is a feast for the ages, from the exultant chorus above, and the fact that even with every member of her family for a hundred miles around at the feast, there are so many bodies to feast upon that a body is falling past the festivities to her, uneaten and whole.

What a strange and beautiful body it is.

She pauses, circling it even as her mouth and gut ache for it, studying the being from the burning world.

It’s hot, hotter than any body she’s ever felt before, even though it is very definitely dead, as unsuited to breathe the night as she is to breathe fire. Its wings are long and twist strangely, like the tentacles of her brothers that are hunted by the fire-breathers. It’s awkwardly shaped, like the crawling five-winged creatures of the mud, but not quite.  There is an almost unsettling familiarity to its symmetry.

The fire-breathers say they used to live in the burning world, but returned to the night, and that all the beasts of the burning world had too once come from the night. It had sounded absurd, but looking upon the form of this being now, she wondered.

Well. Only the one thing to do, really.

Gently, she approaches the being, opens her mouth to embrace it, and welcomes it home to the night.

There is no love like the love the predator feels for its prey.  It is reverence made flesh- O holy being, oh virtue to pursue and make one’s own.It is the flesh made reverent- Please, little being of the burning world, let her love you as she loves her own children, the weight of your body deep within her own. 

There is no gratitude like the gratitude a predator feels for its prey. She owes you her life tonight, little being of the burning world. She lives from the mercy of your body alone. It is already a kindness she can never repay to live by your generosity, but oh, you made it so sweet-  Your blood intoxicates her senses, your body thrillingly warm- as agonizing as the fire of the burning world is to breathe in, it’s just as wonderful to swallow.

You are so sweet, so sweet, she will remember this favor forever.

There is no miracle like the divine connection between predator and prey. Oh child of the burning world, you who brings the Warmth of God into The Endless Night, You burning being of God’s Love. She is blessed by you, messenger of God.  Through you she receives the miracle of life.

Welcome, little burning being Welcome home to the night from whence you came Welcome inside her deepest self, and receive her hospitality.

She swallows the little burning being up with adoration, feeling it settle within her. Relief, ecstasy and satisfaction swirl but are interrupted by the appearance of another body. And another And another And another

The Behemoth itself falls, it’s body still curiously dynamic even torn in half- one end dives for the bottom of the night with somewhat alarming speed, where the other glides along to the depths on an angled path, the distant motion still visible with the bioluminescence it stirs up along it’s path. It is massive beyond anything she's seen before, more like a piece of geography than a living organism.

And all along its wake, hundreds of bodies spill forth from inside.

What a strange miracle this is. But she’s not one to refuse God’s Love. And if the beings of the burning world travel in huge schools with their behemoth, the peculiar notion that the little being within her might be lonely occurs to her. …Wow, she’s REALLY drunk.

Still, she eats three more of the burning beings before her guts are almost bursting with fullness, a bizarre sensation she’d only heard about from those who had been fortunate enough to feast on the fallen body of a fire-breather and had to leave the excess to the crawling beings of the bottom. So too, does she watch more bodies descend deep into the night as she returns to her world of darkness and song, the behemoth’s terrible screams now silent with rest, and the choir of the night rejoicing in this miracle.

---

Two miles above the revelry of God’s Favorite Greenland Shark, the survivors of the Titanic prayed into the endless night for a miracle, unaware it had already been granted.

[wafflefries13]

Go For It, Jamil!

Summary: Scarabia hears their Vice-House Warden has a crush and are a little too enthusiastic to help out.

AN: I really like the idea that the dorm mob loves their wardens and vice wardens. It makes me think of the tsum event where all of Savanaclaw was in tears because they thought Leona got turned into a little burrito plush, lol.

I got Omar and Babkak from the Aladdin Broadway musical. There's also a Kassim there but I thought it sounded too close to Kalim so just kept it to the two of them.

Warnings: Pining. Apparently I'm really into that. AFAB reader with she/her pronouns.

Spring had come to Night Raven College. With the blossoming trees, chirping birds, and returning sunshine, one thing everyone could count on was Kalim’s annual Welcome Spring party. Of course, he also had a Welcome Autumn, Welcome Winter, Welcome Summer, Farewell End-of-School-Year, Beginning of School, Halloween, New Year's Eve and Day, basically anything party. The difference here was that there were generally more flowers. 

“And we can have the cherry blossom trees around the entrance of the courtyard!” Kalim was saying. Jamil dutifully followed behind him by a few steps, taking down notes for the numerous things they would need to order. “That way when the wind blows the petals will swirl everywhere and it will be super pretty!” 

“MmHmm,” Jamil muttered, only halfway paying attention. 

“And I was thinking the food should be fruit-themed. Blueberries, strawberries, plums, apricots, rhubarb - is rhubarb a fruit? It’s sweet but it’s like celery, right? Cause it grows in the ground in a stalk?” 

“It’s a vegetable.” 

“Oh, and pastels! I can get bolts of silk and we can have them hanging from the ceiling in panels and string beads between everything.”

“Sure.”  

“And it’ll be the perfect backdrop when you confess to (Y/N)!” 

Jamil nearly tripped over his own feet. Both of them froze at the sound of a shattering pot. Looking up, Jamil felt dread build in his stomach as a wide-eyed first-year stared at the two of them, obviously having overheard Kalim’s (obviously totally ridiculous) announcement. There was a broken flower pot at his feet. 

“I-Uh-” The first-year stuttered. “Sorry, I’ll get a broom.” He dashed off like his feet were on fire. 

Jamil sighed. The last thing he needed right now were rumors swirling around. “Kalim, what are you talking about?”

Kalim blinked at the retreating student before looking back at Jamil with a beaming smile. “(Y/N)! It’ll all be super romantic, right? And spring’s a time for new beginnings. We’ll have a string quartet and I’ll set up a gazebo with hanging lanterns and you can take her hands and look her in the eyes and say-” 

“Okay, okay, okay!” Jamil quickly said, clapping a hand over Kalim’s mouth before another eavesdropper got the wrong idea. “You have way to clear an image of all this.” 

“Of course! I think it’ll make a great story for your wedding!” 

Jamil heard a gasp. He turned just in time to see the first-year from before ducking behind the corner with another in tow. 

Yup. There was the headache coming. 

“Kalim,” Jamil said, measuring his words as steadily as he could. “I’m not going to confess anything to (Y/N).” 

Kalim pouted. “Aww, why not?” 

“Because I don’t have feelings for her.” 

“What? Of course you do!” 

“I promise I don’t.” 

“Don’t worry, she’ll definitely say yes.” 

“That’s not the problem here.” Jamil sighed. “Look, I get that you have good intentions, but you don’t need to go overboard and be involved in everything. We talked about this, remember? The whole thing about boundaries?” Actually, (Y/N) had mediated that conversation a few days after Jamil’s Overblot. Is that why Kalim had become convinced they had some sort of romantic attraction? Because talking about feelings must lead to the extreme of those feelings? 

Kalim looked chastened, a certain wet puppy dog look that would make most people fold instantly. Jamil was not most people. “Right, I remember. I just…” Jamil waited for Kalim to continue, silently hoping he would just drop it. “I want you to be happy, you know? And I think you’d be really happy with (Y/N)!” 

Jamil looked at Kalim sideways. “It’s more of a two way street, you know.” 

“Well, yeah, but (Y/N) likes you too!” 

Jamil tripped over his own feet again. He felt a strange kind of dread at the way his heart skipped a beat as a warm feeling flooded his chest. 

“She-what-Where did you hear that?” 

Kalim shrugged, smiling coyly. “I can tell. Just like how I can tell you like her.” 

“I don’t,” Jamil said firmly. 

Kalim held up his hands in surrender. “I hear you! Boundaries! I won’t mention it again.” He added under his breath, “Even if I think you two would be really cute together.” 

“I heard that.” 

*

Behind them, hidden in the long shadows of the Scarabia hallways, a cluster of students were beginning to plot. 

*

The next day, Jamil was taking some time to relax between classes. Well, as much as he could relax. Mostly his thoughts were occupied jumping between organizing for the Welcome Spring party, creating a mental schedule of what school projects were do when, planning what he would make Kalim for lunch for the next week-

“Jamil!” 

He turned to see (Y/N) waving at him. He felt his heart start thumping rapidly in his chest. Stop it, He thought. I can’t let Kalim get in my head like that. 

“Hi,” She said, coming up to him. 

“Did you need something?” 

“Not really. Just saw you over here stuck in your own head again.” She elbowed him playfully. Jamil felt himself smile without realizing it and quickly schooled his features to a more serious expression. “Want to take a break? I snagged these cookies from Sam’s. Tomorrow’s the expiration date so I got them on sale.” 

Jamil wrinkled his nose. “Is it worth it?” 

(Y/N) shrugged, taking a bite of a cookie. “It’s in the budget. You know, whenever Crowley actually decides to pay me.” 

“You know, if you’re ever short on food you can always come to Scarabia. If Kalim’s not throwing another party with a buffet I can get you something. I always make extras for Kalim, anyway.” This was not entirely true. Jamil had had practically his entire life to get used to cooking for Kalim, and it was only recently that he had started making larger batches, packaging them up to deliver to a certain magicless prefect who’s nutritional health he definitely didn’t worry about.  

(Y/N) smiled and offered him the cookie bag. “You look after everyone all the time, don’t you?” 

Jamil smiled back and took a cookie. They sat in an alcove in the hallway, chatting about nothing of significance. Jamil told a story about how Floyd had insisted Jamil teach him how to spin on his head during basketball practice and (Y/N) told him stories of her recent trip to Harveston, Epel’s hometown, and the sled race against the surprise Royal Sword Academy students. 

Jamil saw movement out of the corner of his eye, but whatever it was disappeared before he could catch it. “Sorry, what did you say?” 

“Oh, about the stuffed animals. Sebeck won’t admit it, but I think he still has his squirrel plush in his room. I don’t think it’s magic anymore but it is really cute.” 

Jamil heard the drag of a bow on strings and looked around. 

(Y/N) frowned. “Are you okay? You seem distracted.” 

Jamil shook his head. “No, sorry, I’m fine. I thought I heard-” 

Music started to pour around them. Although it was the calming, one might almost say romantic, type, they both still jumped at the sudden noise. Jamil jumped up, looking around, and took a hit of sunflower petals directly to his face. 

“Omar!” Someone hissed. “Be careful!” 

“Sorry, Babkak,” A voice squeaked back. 

Wait, Jamil knew those voices. He whipped around the corner, seeing a group of Scarabia first-years. Several formed a string quartet, softly playing music. The other two had a bucket of flower petals, one of them throwing handfuls in the air while the other directed a zephyr spell to blow them across the hallway. The two froze with wide eyes at the sight of their Vice-House Warden. 

“What,” Jamil said, voice steely and arms crossed. “Are you doing?” 

The string players looked nervously at each other but continued to play. Omar gapped like a codfish. Babkak stood up straight with a confident smile. “We’re setting the mood!” 

“What mood?” “For your confession!” 

Oh. Oh, no. Now Jamil realized how he recognized them. Babkak was the one who dropped the flower pot yesterday and Omar was the one he had dragged with him to eavesdrop. They must have heard what Kalim had said yesterday about him and (Y/N) and taken the wrong idea. And, Jamil justified to himself, it was definitely the wrong idea. 

“Jamil?”  

Jamil turned so fast the first-years were momentarily worried about whiplash. (Y/N) stood at the corner, looking curiously at the impromptu band and flowers. Behind him, Jamil could hear them hastily whispering to each other to keep playing and trying to get the effect of floating flower petals just right. 

“Something going on?” She asked. 

“No!” Jamil said, perhaps a little too quickly. “They were just leaving.” He glared at the first-years. “After they clean this up.” 

(Y/N) took a step forward. Jamil felt his mouth go dry as she reached up and plucked a few stray yellow petals from his hair. “Is this for a botany project or something? Kind of romantic, huh?” 

Jamil felt his face burn with embarrassment. 

“No!” Jamil said, at the same time Babkak said, “Yes!” 

“Okay,” (Y/N) said, rolling closed the half-full bag of cookies. “Well, I should probably get going. I need to see what kind of trouble Grim has gotten into while I was gone. I’ll see you later, Jamil.” She waved to him and then the first-years. 

“What made you think this was a good idea?” Jamil asked, trying very hard not to yell, when (Y/N) was out of earshot. 

“Sorry, sir,” Omar said, dejectedly picking up flower petals. He glared up at Babkak. “I told you we should have gone for the romantic dinner. And rose petals, not sunflowers.” 

Babkak waved his friend off. “Don’t be so cliche. Besides, sunflowers are way better! They’re pretty and you can eat the seeds!” 

“Hey!” Jamil snapped. The two boys looked back up at him while the other first-years were trying to discreetly pack up their instruments. “I asked what you were doing? Did Kalim put you up to this?” 

“No, sir, this was all us!” Babkak said, a little too proudly. “We wanted to help.” “Yeah,” Omar said. “We’re all rooting for you, Vice-House Warden, sir!” The other first-years made noises of agrement. 

“Rooting for me?” 

“With (Y/N), to tell her you love her!” 

Jamil groaned, covering his eyes with his hand and rubbing his temples. “I am not in love with the Prefect.” Jamil missed the skeptical look the two gave each other. “Look, I appreciate the…vote of confidence, but I’m not going to confess anything to anyone any time soon. So whatever else you have planned, or whoever else you told this rumor to, you can give it a break. Understand?” 

“Yes, Vice-House Warden,” They all echoed dutifully. 

As Jamil marched away, Omar leaned over to Babkak. “I’ve got twenty madol that say he confesses before the spring party.” 

*

Jamil’s muscles were burning, and he welcomed it. He needed the distraction after this morning and basketball practice against Floyd in full force was a pretty good diversion. Ace had been uncharacteristically distracted all practice. Although Jamil couldn’t help but notice that Ace seemed to pass a little harder than necessary. 

During a water break, Ace came up to Jamil. He tossed his water bottle between his hands, taking a step away and then closer. 

Jamil knew he would regret it before he even asked, “What’s up, Ace?” 

Ace startled, surprised Jamil had made the first move. “I heard something,” He said. “In potions class today.” 

“Did someone blow up something again? Anyone get turned into an animal or something?” 

Ace pressed his lips together. “Do you like (Y/N)?” 

Jamil couldn’t decide whether to be exhausted, flustered, or annoyed. “Who told you that?” 

Ace’s eyes widened in shock. “You do?!” 

“No!” Jamil snapped back. “People are just going around spreading rumors.” 

“Huh?” Floyd asked, sliding over on the bleachers. “I thought everyone knew already.” 

“Knew?”

Floyd flashed his sharp teeth. “Come on, Sea Snake. Everyone knows you’re, what’s the land term? Head over heels for Shrimpy.” 

Ace dropped his water bottle and jabbed an accusatory finger at Jamil. “I knew it!” 

“You don’t know anything,” Jamil said, shoving Ace’s hand aside. 

“Oh?” Floyd said, leaning in a little too close. “So that means she’s available then?” 

“No!” Ace and Jamil both shouted at the same time. Ace glared at Jamil. A few other members of the basketball club glanced over, snickering to themselves at the outburst. 

Ace puffed out his chest, planting himself solidly in front of Jamil. “Look, (Y/N) is one of my best friends. And if you do anything to mess with her then… then…” Ace fumbled, running out of steam with his threats before catching his second wind. “Then you’ll have to deal with Jack!” 

Jamil crooked an eyebrow. “Jack? Not you or Deuce?” 

Ace shrugged. “Jack’s the biggest. But Deuce did used to be a delinquent. I’ve seen him be pretty brutal when he wants to. And I guess Epel can scrap up too, when Vil isn’t around. Probably couldn’t convince Sebeck to help out, he’d just lecture about a knight’s honor or something. Ooh, Ortho had a blast cannon! So, you know, watch out!” 

“I like how you didn’t put yourself in the line of fire there, Crabby,” Floyd said. He rolled his shoulders. “But you know, I think Shrimpy is pretty great, too. I don’t want to see her sad or anything. So if someone were to maybe break her heart,” He glanced sideways as Jamil with crazed wide eyes. “Can you swim, Sea Snake?” 

Jamil just glowered back at him. “Can everyone just stop talking about (Y/N) today?” 

“People are talking about me?” All three of them jumped. (Y/N) walked into the gym, Grim hanging off her shoulders. “I thought I felt my ears burning.”  

“Shrimpy!” Floyd immediately ran up to her, sweeping her up in a tight squeezing hug. Grim jumped off her shoulders with a yelp. Ace yelled and pulled at Floyd’s jersey, trying to pry them apart. 

(Y/N) weakly patted Floyd’s back with a free hand. “Hi, Floyd, hi, Ace. Sorry, I need Jamil real quick.” 

The two boys froze, slowly turning their heads to stare at Jamil, who was busy hiding his face in his hands. They watched like hawks as (Y/N) walked over to Jamil. 

“Hey,” She said. “You okay?” 

“Fine,” He said, waving her off. “Just one of those days, you know?”

She frowned. “You need me to talk to someone? I can chew out Ace if you want. Floyd is sort of out of my league, though.” 

Jamil sighed a laugh. “No, that’s fine.” 

“Oh! Right! Hang on.” She slung her backpack off her shoulder, reaching in and pulling out a familiar water bottle. “Here, you left this in the library. One of the Scarabia first-years found it and asked me to bring it to you.” 

“Oh, thanks. I was wondering where it was.” Jamil didn’t mention that he hadn’t been in the library at all today. As he reached to take it, their fingers brushed. Jamil grabbed the bottle and jerked back like he had been scorched. His heart was hammering, not from the exercise of basketball practice, and he was momentarily worried (Y/N) would be able to hear it. Not to mention if she would notice how clammy his hands had suddenly become. 

“Well,” (Y/N) said. “I guess I’ll get out of your hair-”

“Wait!” 

The entire basketball team, plus (Y/N) and Grim, turned to the sudden outburst. Babkak had half way thrown himself out of the doorway entrance to the gym, hand extended in a Stop motion. Omar guilty peaked out from the door frame. 

“Uh, I mean,” Babkak said, back peddling. 

“You should stay!” Omar jumped in. “I mean, we should all stay to watch practice! Support your local team and everything!” He weakly punched the air. “Go team?” 

Jamil opened his mouth to chastise them again before (Y/N) spoke, “That sounds fun. I don’t get to see you guys play too often. If that’s okay with you, though.” 

“Oh, um,” Jamil stuttred. 

Floyd jumped up, throwing himself over Jamil’s shoulders and smiling wide. “Of course you can stay! You can watch Sea Snake show off!” 

Jamil elbowed him. “You’re the one who shows off, Floyd.”

(Y/N) shrugged, smiling. (And Jamil definitely didn’t feel his heart flip.) “I don’t have any plans.” 

As everyone got back in position for practice, Ace took his place, whispering to Jamil, “Remember: Ortho has a laser cannon.” 

Jamil rolled his eyes. 

From the corner of his eye, Jamil saw the group of Scarabia first-years shuffle into the bleachers around (Y/N) and Grim. He thought he saw a few of them hiding objects behind their backs, but was pulled back to the game before he could investigate further. 

He lost himself back in the game. Sneakers squeaked against the waxed wooden floor, the bounce of the ball reverberated around the gym, each quick and practiced movement by the players blurring at the edge of Jamil’s vision. Another player passed him the ball. He faked left, turning around Floyd, before lining up a shot at the three point line. He raised the ball, arms tensing in preparation to shoot and- 

A blare of sound echoed through the gym, bouncing off the acoustic walls and tumbling down around everyone in attendance. The ball slipped from Jamil’s hands, falling uselessly in a pathetic arc and bouncing across the court floor. Jamil turned to the bleachers where the noise had come from. The first-years, Jamil now recognized them as the string quartet from earlier, now made up a brass band. The noise he had heard was the blast from a tuba. The rest of the band joined in, trumpets, french horn, and bugle. They started playing a high-energy marching tune. How many instruments did these people know how to play anyway? Omar and Babkak had red and yellow pom poms, waving them enthusiastically. Babkak passed a pair to a bewildered (Y/N). 

“Go, Vice-Housewarden Jamil!” Babkak cheered. 

“Show them who’s boss, sir!” Omar whooped. 

Everyone froze, looking from the impromptu cheering section and band to Jamil then back again. Jamil’s face felt as hot as the Scalding Sands desert at noon. It didn’t help at all when Floyd started cackling. 

He began to march over to confront his dorm mates, again, when a new echoing sound made him pause. (Y/N) had thrown her head back in laughter. She stood, waving the pom poms above her head. 

“Go, Jamil, go!” She cheered. 

Jamil was pretty sure he was going to spontaneously combust at any second. 

*

The rest of practice had been a disaster. Every time Jamil got the ball the bleachers would erupt in noise, distracting him and everyone else trying to play. Jamil had never felt so off his game, fumbling the ball, bumping into his teammates, and losing focus at every moment that mattered, and most of the ones that didn’t, too. He purposely avoided turning in the direction of the cheering squad, partially because he wanted to discourage whatever activities the first-years were insistent on doing, and partially so he didn’t have to see (Y/N) cheer for him so enthusiastically. (And, maybe, so she wouldn’t be able to see how flustered he was becoming with every second.) 

A teammate had patted Jamil’s shoulder in sympathy as they headed to the showers after practice. “Don’t worry,” He said. “I bet she still likes you.” 

Jamil resisted the urge to punch him. 

Now, at least, he was back in a rhythm of something he knew how to do: cooking. Ever since his stint in the Culinary Crucible, the ghost chefs had tapped him and a few other stand out cases to help out in the kitchen every once and a while. 

The kitchen filled with the scent of roasting spices and sizzling meat, spilling out into the cafeteria sitting area. Students had started lining up way before the kitchen officially opened to secure their plate of Jamil’s cooking. Jamil felt the tension melt out of his shoulders, much like the butter in the pan he was currently using, as he fell into his familiar rhythms. 

“Thanks again for your help,” One of the ghost chefs said, floating by with a steaming bowl of freshly made turmeric rice. 

“Not a problem,” He replied. “It gets me out of my own head.” 

“Oh?” Another ghost asked. “Having troubles, youngster?” 

“Girl troubles, maybe?” Another snickered. 

All the ghosts jumped as Jamil brought down a butcher knife to decapitate a fish. They collectively decided it was maybe best to drop the topic, already deceased or not. 

“Ah, Jamil, chef, sir?” A student volunteer said, warily eyeing the butcher knife. “Someone was having an issue with their meal. They wanted to talk to you.” 

So much for his relaxation. Jamil quickly let the others know what to keep an eye on in the kitchen and headed out to the main sitting area. He scanned the tables. It looked like everyone was enjoying their food as far as he could tell. He looked back into the window of the kitchen. The volunteer student pointed at a table near the back by a window. He was about half way across the room when he realized that the student was a Scarabia student, a first-year in fact. And, now that he thought of it, he didn’t think he had seen that student in the kitchen before he had come to talk to Jamil. 

Jamil froze, seeing exactly who was sitting at the indicated table. This was a set up. He turned around to go back, only to be stonewalled by two now very familiar Scarabia students. 

“Hello, sir!” Omar chirped. 

“Taking your dinner break?” Babkak asked. “Great! We have the perfect table for you.” 

They both hooked their arms around Jamil’s and practically dragged him over to the table where (Y/N) and Grim sat. 

“Oh, hi,” She said, blinking at the surprise arrival. Jamil felt his throat tighten and couldn’t formulate a response. 

The musically talented first-years descended to the table, quickly picking up her plate of food to whisk a tablecloth over the table, setting down a candelabra which was quickly lit, and a vase with a dozen roses. 

“Roses,” Omar whispered to Babkak with a sly smile. Babkak rolled his eyes. The two shoved Jamil into a seat opposite (Y/N). A plate of food was set in front of him. The sneaky Scarabia student from the kitchen grabbed Grim, shoving a plate of tuna tartare in his paws before he could protest. Then, the group of wannabe restaurateurs vanished as quickly as they had appeared. The two left at the table, Jamil and (Y/N), looked at eachother with confusion. Jamil dropped his head to stare intently at his plate, stabbing at the sayadieh with his fork. 

“Hey,” Jamil was jerked out of his thoughts by (Y/N)’s voice. “I wanted to apologize for earlier, at practice. It looked like we were a pretty big distraction.” 

“You don’t need to apologize,” Jamil said. “It wasn’t your fault.” He glared at the first-years eagerly watching from a table a safe distance away. 

“Yeah, but still, I don’t need to make your life any harder.” 

Jamil looked up at her. She was twirling her spoon around the tabouli, eyebrows furrowed in deep thought. “You don’t make my life harder,” he insisted. “In fact, you’ve made a lot of things easier. My relationship with Kalim is a lot better now, for one thing.” 

She smiled at him, and his heart definitely didn’t skip a beat. “Well, glad I can help, then. But don’t sell yourself short. You’ve been doing a lot of work since everything that happened.” She waved her hand, regarding the invisible thing they both understood. It was still hard to talk directly about his Overblot, the manipulation, abuse of magic, and kidnapping aside. (Y/N) had told him she wanted to give him space for it, to consider how he felt and talk to others at his own pace, but still trying to address the root of the issues. That was when she had started organizing those sessions between her, Jamil, and Kalim, giving them a place to directly talk with each other without outside pressures and influences, helping them work things together as friends instead of the master/servant role Jamil so often felt himself confided to. 

“This is great, by the way,” (Y/N) interjected, scooping up a mouthful of tabouli. “I can always tell when it’s your cooking. Thanks for those leftovers the other day. I know Grim really likes them too.” 

“Oh, yeah, of course,” He said. He didn’t say, “I didn’t make it for Grim. I made it for you.” He blanched at the intrusive thought and snatched up his water glass, taking a large gulp and trying not to choke. 

“You sure you’re okay?” (Y/N) asked. “You’ve seemed kind of on edge all day.” 

“I’ll deal with it later,” Jamil said, looking over at the first-years who started enthusiastically nodding and giving him thumbs-up. 

(Y/N) drummed her fingers against the table.  “Listen, actually, there’s been something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about-” 

“Lgeimat!” Jamil shouted. 

She blinked at him. “Sorry?” 

“The lgeimat! I left them in the fryer! Sorry, have to go, have a good night!” Jamil shot up and zipped back to the safety of the kitchen. 

“I didn’t know we were having lgeimat tonight,” Omar said from their spying perch. 

Babkak thudded his head on the table at their third defeat. “We’re not.” He grumbled. 

*

Jamil collapsed on the low couches in the Scarabia common room, arm flung across his face to cover his eyes from the late evening light. The day felt like it went on forever. Jamil had caught himself constantly looking over his shoulder, jerking at every unexpected sound, in anticipation of an over eager group of first-years. 

“Hi, Jamil-Oh,” Kalim stopped himself, looking over at his drained friend. “You okay?” 

Jamil sighed in response. “Long day.” 

“Oh.” Kalim sat down next to him. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

Jamil peered out from under his arm at Kalim. At least that was one improvement, again, thanks to (Y/N) specific intervention. Kalim had slowly been teaching himself not to jump to conclusions or take it upon himself to fix everything by throwing money or extravagance at it, but by taking the time to hear other people, namely Jamil, out first. Of course, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t throw money or extravagance at the problem in the end, but progress was progress. 

Jamil gave Kalim a halfhearted glare. “It’s all thanks to that rumor you started.” 

Kalim blinked. “Rumor? Oh, you mean about how you’re in love with-”

“Yes!” Jamil cut him off, sitting bolt upright. “That! Some first-years heard you the other day and have been following me around, trying to start up some grand romantic gesture.” 

“Oh, yeah, I heard about that. I think it’s sweet.” 

“Sweet?” 

“That everyone believes in you! Everyone knows how hard you work. We all want to see you happy and with the person you love.” 

Jamil stood. “Kalim, I’m not-” 

“Nope.” Kalim said shooting up. He put his hands on the taller boy’s shoulders, forcing him to meet his eyes. “You’ve been different ever since winter break. You smile more when (Y/N)’s around. You’re not so tense all the time. And whenever we’re in a group, like at the cafeteria or dorm meetings or parties, you’re always looking for her. And when you see her your whole face just lights up! Do you know how often you talk about her? It’s a lot, Jamil! ‘Oh, I wonder what (Y/N) would think about this. Do you think (Y/N) has that in her world? Do you think (Y/N) likes spicy or sweet food? Do you think (Y/N)’s doing okay at Ramshackle? Do you think she needs help with any repairs like when we stayed there during VDC training? (Y/N) sure works real hard to catch up with a whole new culture. Do you think (Y/N) would want this extra curry?’”  

“I don’t sound like that,” Jamil protested weakly. 

Kalim sighed, hands on his hips. “I’ve known you my whole life. I know what you’re like when you’re mad, I know what you’re like when you’re sad, I know what you’re like when you’re happy, and now I know what you’re like when you’re in love.” 

Jamil pushed back. “I’m not in love with her!” 

“Yes, you are!” 

“I’m not-” Jamil cut himself off. He felt suddenly dizzy. He sat down hard. “Oh, I’m in love with her.” 

Kalim threw his hands in the air. “Yes! Thank you! Finally!” 

“But,” Jamil continued, and Kalim tried really hard to keep his frustration to himself. “I can’t tell her that. I can’t… put that kind of pressure on her. She has enough going on with Grim and Ramshackle and trying to find a way home and… Sevens, she’s going back home, Kalim! I don’t know when or how, but she won’t even be in this universe! And what, I’m just supposed to show up and dump this emotional baggage on her when she already has everything else to worry about?” 

Kalim sat down next to Jamil. He twirled his fingers together, trying to collect his thoughts. Why was it always so hard to know the right thing to say? “You said feelings were like a two way street yesterday, remember? So don’t you think (Y/N) should have a say too?” 

“Kalim, I can’t-”

“Yes you can!” Kalim shouted, jumping up and clapping his hands. “You’re Jamil Viper! If anyone can do it, can do anything, it’s you! And keeping everything bottled up isn’t fair to you or her or anyone. So-So-” Kalim frowned, trying to look stern, a very strange expression for the normally boisterous boy. “So go tell her how you feel right now, and let her decide what happens next! That’s an order as your house warden!” Kalim flinched. “Please.” 

Jamil stared at him for just a second too long, making Kalim squirm with worry that he had gone too far. Then, Jamil sighed, resigned, a half smile on his face. “Well, if my house warden is ordering it, how can I say no?” 

*

Despite what he had told Kalim, Jamil dreaded every step towards Ramshackle dorm. Even with the ‘order’ from his house warden, Jamil considered turning back. Instead, with each uncertain step, he plotted out exactly what he would say. Was it just as simple as ‘I have feelings for you?’ Should he have some grand gesture ready? Absolutely not. Those first-years had spoiled that concept for him. 

Before he realized it, Jamil was walking up the pathway to the dilapidated dorm. He stood at the front step, fist up ready to knock. It hovered there. A plan, he still needed a plan. He couldn’t just walk in without a plan of what to say, what to do. He’d had the entire walk over here, how had he not come up with a more solid idea? 

The door snapped open in front of him, Grim hurdling out, crashing into Jamil’s chest. “What-? Oh, hey!” Grim said, rubbing his head at the bump then cracking into a wide smile at the sight of Jamil. “Did you bring us dinner again?” 

“Uh, no, not this time,” Jamil said, already thrown off. 

Grim frowned. “Meh, whatever. I’m going to Sam’s anyway to get some tuna.” 

“Milk and eggs!” (Y/N)’s voice called from inside. “You’re getting milk and eggs! And oranges if they have any.” 

“That too!” Grim said. He winked then sped off down the path. 

(Y/N) appeared at the doorway, clearly having sprinted to catch the dire beast before he left. “Grim, I said we don’t have the budget to- Oh, he’s gone. Right, sure, why not?” She sighed. “Hi, Jamil.” 

Jamil swallowed hard. “Should I come back later?” 

(Y/N) waved the idea off. “No, it’s fine, you’re already here. Come on in.” 

Jamil followed her into the dorm to the sitting room just past the entrance hall. Despite the age and wear of the building, it was clear that (Y/N) had taken a lot of pride in fixing it up and keeping everything in order. 

“Sorry, I was in the middle of doing dishes,” (Y/N) said, whipping her wet and slightly soapy hands against her skirt. “Go ahead and take a seat, I’ll get some tea and snacks.” 

“It’s fine,” Jamil said, quickly standing back up after having just sat down on one of the overstuffed couches. “I know where everything is, I’ll get it.” 

“No, no, you’re a guest. Take a break, I’ll get it.” 

“It’s fine really. I’m sure Crowly has been keeping you busy all day.” 

“And you’re just as busy. Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”

“No, really, I-” 

“Jamil!” Jamil jumped at her sudden outburst, his hands frozen in the air. She huffed and put her hands on her hips. “Honestly. You take care of everyone else all the time. Let me take care of you for once.” 

Oh no. Oh no. 

“Now sit down while I go make some tea.” 

He sat down. This was worse than he thought. He really was in love. 

She wanted to take care of him. Of him. When was the last time someone offered to take care of him, to lighten his load, to take responsibility for the burden? For as long as Jamil could remember that had been his job, his life. Kalim, Najma, his parents, the Scarabia students, everyone and everything. It was like he didn’t realize just how tired he was until (Y/N) offered to help. Why did her snapping at him just now make him feel so relieved? 

Almost without thinking about it, Jamil’s feet took him into the kitchen. (Y/N) was standing at the stove, setting down a heavy teapot on the burner. She was mumbling to herself about something, Jamil couldn’t really hear what. His ears were ringing. 

(Y/N) noticed that Jamil had come into the kitchen, turning to face him. She frowned, eyebrows knit together. “Jamil, I told you that - Oh!” 

Ignoring his anxiety, ignoring that nagging thought that he didn’t have a plan, ignoring the churning nervousness in his stomach, Jamil pulled (Y/N) into a tight hug, burning his face in her hair. 

“I like you,” He said, so softly that he had to repeat himself to make sure she heard, to make sure she understood the depth of his feelings. “I like you. I think I might even- I feel better when I’m with you, like I can be better. I don’t feel like everything I’ve done up until now is just in service to someone else, because all of those things lead me to meeting you. I feel like I can think clearly, that I don’t always have to be on alert. I want to take care of you, I want to be with you, I want us to be together. And I know - I know I’ve done horrible things in the past, I know you’ve seen me at my lowest. But you still see me, me, not anything else. Not the servant, not the diplomatic aid, not the Overblot monster- How could I not fall in love with you? So, (Y/N), please. I just - please.” He wasn’t quite sure what he was asking ‘please’ for, he only hoped she would understand. 

(Y/N) trailed her fingers along his back, threading through his long hair. She pulled back, as much as Jamil’s embrace would allow. The corners of her eyes were dotted with tears. “Jeeze, Jamil,” (Y/N) said. “Way to steal my thunder. I wanted to say it first.” 

Jamil let out a cracked laugh, tears welling up in his own eyes. “You did?” 

(Y/N) hiccuped, laughing. “Yeah, of course. I thought I was being kind of obvious with it. I finally decided to suck it up and tell you at dinner earlier, but you just ran away so I thought you knew what I was going to say and didn’t feel the same.” 

“Sorry, I guess I was nervous. And those first-years all day…” 

(Y/N) laughed out loud. “I was wondering what was up with that. Was that Kalim or something?” 

“For once, no. They took it upon themselves to try and set us up.” 

“Aww, they care about you.” She hugged him close. “And I can see why.” 

*

That weekend, it was finally time for the Welcome Spring party, and there were, indeed, more flowers than usual. Kalim was flitting around, making sure everything was organized and where it needed to be. Jamil had asked if he could leave for the morning, coming back when it was time for the party to start. And, even though he had been the one to ask for the time off, Jamil had double checked that it was okay with Kalim no less than a dozen times before he actually left. Kalim insisted repeatedly that he would be fine, that he had a handle on everything. And, maybe, for the most part he did. It definitely helped that Jamil had assigned tasks to several other dorm members the night before to make sure Kalim didn’t get too overwhelmed. 

Just as the golden hour set in, magical floating lanterns bobbing along in the air amid swirling flower petals, the guests started to arrive. Kalim had sent out a recommended dress code ahead of time, requesting pastels, whites, and gold. Something to fit in with the refreshing and floral mood he wanted to create. Mostly, he was happy to report, everyone was able to follow the requirements. Heartslabyul students especially were rigidly adhering to the dress code under the watchful eye of their house warden. Most of them wore pinks, as it was the required color when taking care of the dorm flamingos so they already had something that would fit the theme. Savannaclaw didn’t much stick to theme, but had tried to comply with sticking puffy peony blossoms through belt loops or behind their ears. Octavinelle wore light blues and corals, studded with shimmering scales, pearls, and other bits of underwater flora. Scarabia, of course, as the hosts, were the most bejeweled, taking inspiration from the fairy gala that had inadvertently plunged the campus into chaos, but also resulted in beautiful flowing white and gold garments. Pomfiore stayed mostly in lavenders and lilacs, highlighted by golden embroidery in fantastic scenes and shapes. Ignihyde, for those who did show up, dug out whatever was the lightest color in their wardrobe, mostly staying in light blues. Similarly, no one was expecting much from the usually dour-toned Diasomnia. But, not wanting to create a social fopaux at one of the few events he had received an invitation to, thanks to (Y/N) reminding Kalim to expand his guest list at the last minute, Malleus had ensured that all his dorm members wore mint and emerald green with gold dotted throughout. 

There was a noticeable absence of two usually prominent figures, but Kalim assured everyone Jamil and (Y/N) would be arriving soon. And, although Jamil had tried to slip in quietly while everyone’s attention was focused on the dance floor for an aerial ribbon performance, Kalim’s squeal of delight quickly diverted everyone’s attention. Jamil held in a groan as attention whirled to him and (Y/N). They both wore outfits from the fairy gala, meticulously designed and created by Professor Crewel. She squeezed his hand in support, dragging him further in, head held high while ignoring the stares. A few Scarabia students gave congratulations, thumping Jamil’s back as he passed. Ace caught Jamil’s eye from the other side of the room. He pointed to Ortho, who was waving excitedly, and drew a finger across his throat. Jamil rolled his eyes. 

As the aerial dancers finished, (Y/N) drew Jamil to the dance floor. As a band kicked up (seriously, how many instruments did those Scarabia students know how to play?), (Y/N) wrapped her arms around Jamil’s neck as he placed his hands on her hips. He really hoped she wouldn’t notice how sweaty his palms had gotten. 

“You’re nervous,” (Y/N) said. “I’m not used to seeing you like that.” 

“I’ve just never really done this before,” Jamil said. “Not dancing, I’ve done that plenty. Just the whole relationship thing. I never really had a chance before. I don’t want to mess this up.” 

“I think you’ve been doing pretty good so far.” 

Jamil smirked. “It’s been two days.” 

“Well, see? You’re gaining experience already.” She leaned forward, placing her head on his chest. “I’m nervous, too, you know. Not about this. I’m really confident how I feel about you, and I want to stay with you for as long as I can. I mean about everything going on around us. There’s a lot of unknown. Technically, you know, I don’t even exist. Don’t have any papers like a birth certificate or passport or even a valid nationality. But I know I have great people helping me out, including you. And knowing they’re on my side, it helps make things a little better. And I’m on your side. So everything will work out, you know?” 

Jamil hummed. Lowley, in a quiet voice so he could dismiss it if she didn’t hear him, he asked, “Can I kiss you?” 

(Y/N) looked up at him, smiling, eyes twinkling. “I’d like that.”  

*

Off to the side, behind a bolt of silk cloth, Babkak handed Omar a 20 madol note.

[ventique18]

Fancomics where Yuu turns into a man or a woman or vice versa and Malleus says "I don't really mind whatever appearance you take for as long as it's still you" and then taking them lovingly, without hesitation >>>>>>>>

[jangmi-latte]

hey. just because i'm losing my shit and going feral over savanaclaw rook doesn't mean i dislike his present one mkay? we making it clear. after all, i fell for the present rook before this one so don't come at me and question, "did you even read the main story?" or some batshit question because, girl. i know it was rook's decision to move. i know it was rook who willingly wanted to change. and if i'm being completely serious, rook looks better now that he's in pomefiore than he did before because he really worked hard to look after himself under vil's guidance. be honest now, a man who looks after himself is way better.

so don't come and attack me saying it was vil's fault because vil was just standing there and having basic conversation with rook when it was rook who decided all of this. damn, even vil tried to stop rook and he said it himself, "you know how stubborn he can be once he has his mind made up." mkay? rook WANTED vil to change him because his passion drove him to change. vil is being a good friend. honestly, a friend i'd ask for.

now did YOU read the main story?

[aivy-saur]

[azujamit4t]

The Sun and The Moon

[jay-joy113]

Thinking of getting this in a shirt, should i?

Maybe if it hits 1000 likes ill post it

[grapecola]

The Party . . .

'The Party' is the 1st large scale piece we had to write for the Writers' Studio course. #writer #WritingCommunity

**’The Party’ is the first larger piece we were required to write for the Writers’ Studio Unlocking Creativity online course. We had a limit of 600 words in which to create a the scenes and characters. The lead up included a couple of exercises to create 2 characters and 3 scenes. I have posted the entire piece that I wrote, not the edited version that was submitted to the writers’ board, as my…

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Types of Plot Twists

7 Types of Plot Twists

Anagnorisis

Means "discovery."

This type of plot twist is when the protagonist suddenly recognizes something about his or herself or another character.

Deus ex machina

Latin for "God out of the machine,"

Deus ex machina means the introduction of an unexpected event or person that solves the problem.

Because it's artificial, it's rarely used in modern fiction.

False protagonist

The main character is not the true main character.

He or she is killed off early or unexpectedly.

Peripeteia

Means a reversal of fortune, typically from good to bad.

The opposite of peripeteia is eucatastrophe, where things elevate from bad (very bad) to good.

Poetic justice

Occurs when a character is rewarded (or punished) for their actions.

Poetic justice is often used to deliver sweet payback to a villain.

Red herring

The red herring plot twist is all about misdirection.

The reader is following a false direction but doesn't realize it until it's revealed.

Unreliable narrator

The unreliable narrator is someone who seems believable and trustworthy at first, but after a startling revelation, is revealed to be untruthful.

Source ⚜ Writing Notes & References

[milkchocolate-e]

You know what? I want us to be in a flower field. I want us to dance underneath the moonlight. I want us to to kiss in the rain. I want us to hold eachother while watching the sunset.

[egophiliac]

C'MON TO THE THEATER!

I love these guys so much. forget NRC, I want to attend their terrible disaster school for disaster children that might actually be plastered on top of the smoking remains of an actively sinking ship. I may or may not actually learn anything, but I will have the time of my life.