#consistent verb tense

[miriam-heddy]

Proofreading & Keeping A Consistent Verb Tense In FanFiction

It’s my loudest barking PET PEEVE (imagine a very angry, three-headed Pug-Cerberus with bug-eyes and snapping teeth.)

Back in my day, fanfiction zines had editors. And fanfiction writers used betas when possible. So that’s why I’m tired of people posting with the disclaimer, “No beta. We die like ____.” Some of these stories even have errors in the title!

Verb tense problems are easy to miss if you’re not a careful proofreader. A spellcheck will not catch them. And the result is messy and ugly.

Now, you might be thinking, “Well, no one’s ever mentioned that I do this!” But that may well be because your readers are afraid you’ll react badly to being told you have the writing equivalent of smiling with spinach in your teeth.

Please give af about this! Consistent verb tense matters! It changes the meaning of your prose!

P.S. I’ve never used Autocrit, so I’m not endorsing it. But it looks promising, in that it highlights verb tenses in different colors (something I haven’t seen in other editing programs). And it’s worth clicking the link for another explanation of Tense Consistency.

Please?

[serpentface]

Do you conlang? I was wondering if you had naming languages (or possibly even more developed ones) for pulling the words you use. I tried to search your blog but didn't find anything, wouldn't be surprised if the feature is just busted tho. Your worldbuilding is wonderful and I particularly enjoy the anthropological and linguistic elements.

Ok the thing is I had kind of decided I was not going to do any conlanging because I don't feel like I'm equipped to do a good job of it, like was fully like "I'm just going to do JUST enough that it doesn't fail an immediate sniff test and is more thoughtful than just keysmashing and putting in vowels". And then have kinda been conlanging anyway (though not to a very deep and serious extent. I maybe have like....an above average comprehension of how language construction works via willingness to research, but that's not saying much, also I can never remember the meanings of most linguistic terms like 'frictives' or etc off the top of my head. I'm just kinda raw dogging it with a vague conceptualization of what these things mean)

I do at least have a naming language for Wardi (and more basic rules for other established languages) but the rudimentary forms of it were devised with methods much shakier and less linguistically viable than even the most basic naming language schemes, and I only went back over it LONG after I had already made a bunch of words so there's some inconsistencies with consonant presence and usage. (This can at least be justified because it IS a language that would have a lot of loanwords and would be heavily influenced by other language groups- Burri being by far the most significant, Highland-Finnic and Yuroma-Lowlands also being large contributors)

The 'method' I used was:

-Skip basic construction elements and fully move into devising necessary name words, with at least a Vibe of what consonants are going to be common and how pronunciation works -Identify some roots out of the established words and their meanings. Establish an ongoing glossary of known roots/words. -Construct new words based in root words, or as obvious extensions/variants of established words. -Get really involved in how the literal meanings of some words might not translate properly to english, mostly use this to produce a glossary of in-universe slang. -Realize that I probably should have at least some very basic internal consistency at this point. -Google search tutorials on writing a naming language. -Reverse engineer a naming language out of established words, and ascribe all remaining inconsistencies to being loanwords or just the mysteries of life or whatever.

I do at least have some strongly established pronunciation rules and a sense of broad regional dialect/accents.

-'ai' words are almost always pronounced with a long 'aye' sound.

-There is no 'Z' or 'X' sound, a Wardi speaker pronouncing 'zebra' would go for 'tsee-brah', and would attempt 'xylophone' as 'ssye-lohp-hon'

-'V' sounds are nearly absent and occur only in loanwords, and tend to be pronounced with a 'W' sound. 'Virsum' is a Highland word (pronounced 'veer-soom') denoting ancestry, a Wardi speaker would go 'weer-sum'.

-'Ch' spellings almost always imply a soft 'chuh' sound when appearing after an E, I, or O (pelatoche= pel-ah-toh-chey), but a hard 'kh' sound after an A or U (odomache= oh-doh-mah-khe). When at the start of a word, it's usually a soft 'ch' unless followed by an 'i' sound (chin (dog) is pronounced with a hard K 'khiin', cholem (salt) is pronounced with a soft Ch 'cho-lehm')

-Western Wardin has strong Burri cultural and linguistic influence, and a distinct accent- one of the most pronounced differences is use of the ñ sound in 'nn' words. The western city of Ephennos is pronounced 'ey-fey-nyos' by most residents, the southeastern city of Erubinnos is pronounced 'eh-roo-been-nos' by most residents. Palo's surname 'Apolynnon' is pronounced 'A-puh-lee-nyon' in the Burri and western Wardi dialects (which is the 'proper' pronunciation, given that it's a Kos name), but will generally be spoken as 'Ah-poh-leen-non' in the south and east.

-R's are rolled in Highland-Finnic words. Rolling R's is common in far northern rural Wardi dialects but no others. Most urban Wardi speakers consider rolling R's sort of a hick thing, and often think it sounds stupid or at least uneducated. (Brakul's name should be pronounced with a brief rolled 'r', short 'ah' and long 'uul', but is generally being pronounced by his south-southeastern compatriots with a long unrolled 'Brah' sound).

Anyway not really a sturdy construction that will hold up to the scrutiny of someone well equipped for linguistics but not pure bullshit either.

[sundaemuddysucks]

do yall have that one grammatical mistake that tells you it’s time to go to bed

[have-kake]

I deadass need to write down the ruleset for how Mask talks istg. I need to be able to reference it on the fly when I'm in the flow/editing

[danandfuckingjonlmao]

tell me what the video Basically, I’m Gay means to you?

omg this is such a nice question anon, thank you so much for taking the time to ask 🤍

i can’t possibly talk about all of the components of what it means to me, but know that it means EVERYTHING. i’ll talk about some.

1. knowing how many young people would see it and feel less alone and know that who they are is okay and beautiful and they deserve acceptance. it could save lives. as someone with works in crisis intervention for queer youth, i know how much just one video like that can be a lifeline/tether.

2. seeing someone who meant so much to me, who i’ve followed for 9 years (so at the time it was 4 years), who is absolutely part of the reason i’m still alive, finally coming to terms with who he is and deciding to tell the world his story, with all the anxiety and freedom that come with it. opening himself up to a whole new chapter in his life, establishing himself as part of a community that welcomes him with open arms. just so much happiness for him.

3. as a queer person, feeling the queer joy, the camaraderie, the pride, the validation, all of it

4. the vibes of the phandom around that time were impeccable. i always avoided interacting with phannies, but we were all celebrating together and it was beautiful.

5. my dad had died 5 months earlier, and big gave me reason to smile for the first time since then.

so yeah, big means a whole lot to me. it’s a beautiful, important, powerful video, and i’m very thankful for it.

in case you see this, anon, and want to share, what does it mean to you?

[kestalsblog]

Basic Tips to Improve Your Writing

I used to read a lot of unprofessional writing online, and through that endeavor, I started mentally compiling different qualities that turned me off to people's work right away. I'm sharing some of my thoughts about ways to improve your writing so others don't click off your work right away!

-Change paragraphs when different characters are speaking.

-In that same thread, remember to make new paragraphs and not have one giant block of text. This isn't only discouraging for some readers, but actually physically impossible to read for those who are visually impaired.

-Learn grammar. Sorry, but there is no way around this one. For example, commas aren't just for aesthetic appeal or your personal choice, and it will turn some readers away if your writing is littered with grammatical errors. You can't break the rules for creative purposes if you don't even know them, and the difference is generally apparent.

-Remember the narration style you've chosen. For example, if you're writing in third person limited, you can't think outside the mind of your main character. Don't jump suddenly to the thoughts of other characters or an all-knowing, omniscient voice.

-Slow down. Each word matters, so try not to think of writing as "I must get from Point A to Point B," but "I must get from Point A to Point B beautifully."

-Avoid repeating the same word or phrase too much, especially within the same paragraph. There are exceptions in dialogue, of course. (It's sweet when writers acquire their own personalized phrasings that mark their voice, but I have turned away from works where the exact same line just kept coming up again and again).

-Don't forget about setting. You might be able to imagine where your characters are, but no one else can if you don't let them know.

-Use a consistent verb tense.

-Your characters are not you and generally shouldn't always be mouthpieces for you to share your own values and thoughts.

-Your characters should sound distinctly different from each other, including their talking styles.

-Don't bog the reader down with too much description, and make sure the description you do have is realistic. Think about it. In the morning, do you wake up, go to the mirror, and think to yourself, "I looked at my shaggy dark hair and emerald green eyes"? Nobody thinks that way about their own appearance, and it feels like a forced way to let the reader know what the main character looks like.

-Also, related, there's no need to start tossing out every character trait for each character if it's not relevant to the story.

-Last, show some passion and excitement for your own work. Make sure the language embodies that passion because if you don't even care about your writing, who will?

[thedungeonbat]

present tense verbs + masculine/neutral words

Guess who gave up on studying math (for now). I spent most of my day reading. In the end I read 5 articles on the anti ai and modern luddite movement and 60 pages in my book. After a longer break to eat dinner I continued studying croatian. Today consisted of translating sentences (which was quite hard because I was lacking the needed vocabulary) and writing flashcards for present verb tense, masculine and neutral word endings :)

Screentime: 1h (who am I and what have I done to Finn?)🦦

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Childhood Bilingualism

Bilingual language acquisition, or simultaneous bilingualism refers to the acquisition of two languages simultaneously from infancy

About half the people in the world are bilingual or multilingual

In many parts of the world, bilingualism (or multilingualism) is the norm

The Easier Word

As during monolingual language development, young bilingual children will first acquire what is easy in their languages:

Example: A bilingual child might find a word or structure much easier or more obvious in one language than in the other and use the easier word or the easier structure in both languages.

With time, the child will be able to process more and more language cues and eventually this strategy will be dropped and the correct form will be used in each language.

Short Words

Short words are easier for young children than long words.

Example: Young children shorten words and say nana instead of banana.

If mum's word is shorter than dad's, the bilingual child naturally goes for the shorter option.

Sound Combinations

Some sound combinations are harder to say than others.

Example: Young children change chair to tair.

If the word in one language has complex sound combinations and the equivalent in the other language does not, choosing the word in the other language is much the same as what monolingual children do when they choose a simpler word over a more complex word.

Frequency of Word Use

How often a child has heard a word is important.

Like monolingual children, words which are used all the time are learned first.

Example: Car, or its simplified form tar, is learned before the word van, unless there is more talk about vans in the child's environment than about cars.

Grammatical Structures

Frequency of use and simplicity of grammatical structures.

Examples:

The six verb endings in Italian are acquired very early by monolingual children because there is one ending for each person (I, you, he etc.) and they are used all the time - in present tense, in past tense, for the future and for the conditional.

The German system uses its verb endings all the time as well, but there are only four distinctly different endings for the six grammatical persons, which means that some endings overlap. As a result, German children master the verb system 6 to 12 months later than the Italian children.

There is only one personmarker in English, and it is only used in present tense (he runs). This takes the longest to acquire because it makes verb markings so infrequent in English.

Such differences may be reflected in bilingual children's acquisition. They may show themselves in the child learning a functionally comparable structure first in one language and only a few months later in the other.

In the meantime, the bilingual child might choose to draw on what s/he has already acquired to fill the gap.

There might be aspects of the grammatical development in the Language Other Than English (LOTE) which the bilingual child will never conquer 100%. There isn't much one can do about grammatical structures which are so unsystematic that children need massive amounts of input over many years to fully master them completely. An example of such structures are the article systems in German or French.

Consistency

The parent's consistency in language choice is very important.

Initially, the child will not know what a language is, but only understand that, for example, Mummy and Daddy speak in different ways.

Example: If the mother is consistent with their language choice, it is much easier for the child to realise that everything they say belongs to one system and everything the mother's partner or the grandparents or the staff at the child care centre say belongs to another. In time, the child will learn both systems.

Code-switching

Bilingual children engage in code-switching:

The alternate use of two or more languages within the same utterance or during the same conversation

The alternative used by bilinguals of two or more languages in the same conversation

Situational Code-switching

Also called transactional code-switching

Two different languages are assigned to two or more different situations. An individual may have knowledge of all the languages associated with different situations. Conversational etiquette, however, requires the use of only one language at a time.

Example: Speaking one language at home and switching to another at school.

Examples of Spanish-English Code-Switching

Switching between sentences: “I was going to tell you something. Pero no me acuerdo que, es.”

Switching between sentences—first sentence repeated in the second language: “Ella es bonita. She is pretty.”

Switching in the middle of a sentence: “I just can’t no puedo concentrame con tanto ruido.”

Borrowing & Loanword

Bilingual children also engage in borrowing:

The incorporation of lexical elements from one language in the lexicon of another language

The introduction of single words or short, frozen, idiomatic phrases from one variety into another

A loanword can also be called a borrowing:

Loanwords are words adopted by the speakers of one language from a different language.

Example: of an English loanword into Spanish dealing with organizations, restaurants, or institutions is, “Vamos al la United Nations en el carro” or “nos vamos al Disney World a ver a Mickie Mouse.”

Here we see a mixing from Spanish to English with the name of an organization and a restaurant used.

Examples. Spanish borrowing from English: “parqueadero,” “sandwich,” and “garaje.”

Examples. English borrowing from Spanish: are “armada,” “armadillo,” and “bravado.”

Take Note:

Contrary to popular belief, bilingual children acquire all the language milestones within the range of what's normal for monolingual children.

Rate of language development is more likely to be due to the child's abilities and the quality of interaction than hearing two languages as such.

Children who code-switch are not confused, because they are able to use their two languages appropriately with different people. In fact, the ability to switch back and forth between languages is a sign of mastery of two linguistic systems, not a sign of language confusion.

Children as young as 2 are able to code-switch in socially appropriate ways.

Bilingual children do not develop more slowly than monolingual children just because they are hearing two languages. Differences between monolingual and bilingual learners do exist but have nothing to do with delays or impairments.

THEORIES OF BILINGUAL DEVELOPMENT

1. Unitary system hypothesis - the idea that the child initially constructs only one lexicon and one grammar

Evidence for: language mixing similar to codeswitching; lexical items existing in only one language

Evidence against: there is a lot of overlap in the lexicon for each language, and children may have gaps because each language is used in different contexts and they can only learn so many words each day

2. Separate systems hypothesis - the idea that the child builds a distinct lexicon and grammar for each language

Evidence for:

where the two languages diverge grammatically, the child will acquire two different sets of rules

bilingual children select which language to use based on the context

children bilingual in sign language and a spoken language may say a word in one language and sign it in the other simultaneously

“Just remember, when someone has an accent, it means that he knows one more language than you do.” ―Sidney Sheldon, Windmills of the Gods

Sources: 1 2 3

Writing Notes: On Children ⚜ Children's Dialogue ⚜ Writing Notes & References

[hayatheauthor]

Hi! Newbie writing who loves writing, I just wanted advice for how to write a character who is emotionally numb and distant and how they can overcome it?

Or who to write numbness in general?

Writing Detached Characters: A Guide to Emotional Numbness

Welcome to the latest instalment in my series on ‘how to write different emotions’. Contrary to the series title, today’s blog will be covering how to write a lack of emotion, or rather, emotional numbness. This is an area many writers covering PTSD, depression, or closed-off characters might be interested in. Thank you anon for the request, and I hope this blog helps you with your writing! 

Understanding the Motive for Emotional Numbness

Emotional numbness can stem from various sources and they all influence a character's behaviour differently. Understanding the root cause of their numbness is crucial to portraying them authentically. 

Trauma-Induced Numbness: Characters closed off due to trauma may appear more disconnected and guarded. Their numbness is a defence mechanism to avoid reliving painful experiences.

Chronic Stress: Prolonged exposure to stress can lead to emotional exhaustion and numbness. These characters might show signs of burnout and a lack of enthusiasm for activities they once enjoyed.

Depression: Characters dealing with depression may exhibit numbness as a symptom. They might struggle with feelings of hopelessness and an inability to experience pleasure.

Each motive ties directly into the character's behaviour, so it’s a good idea to research how numbness varies based on the cause.

How to Showcase Emotional Numbness in Your Writing

When crafting an emotionally numb character, subtlety is key. Here are some ways to show their numbness through various aspects of writing:

Body Language

Closed-off Posture: Crossed arms, avoiding eye contact, slumped shoulders.

Minimal Gestures: Limited use of hand movements, lack of expressive body language.

Tense Muscles: Frequently clenched jaw or fists, indicating suppressed emotions.

Lack of Physical Contact: Avoids hugs, handshakes, or any form of touch.

Facial Expressions

Blank Stare: Eyes that seem to look through people rather than at them.

Neutral Expressions: Rarely smiles or frowns, maintaining a consistently neutral face.

Delayed Reactions: Slow to show any reaction to surprising or emotional events.

Flat Affect: Consistent lack of facial movement or expression regardless of the situation.

Note: remember to not take this too far! This isn’t to say your character doesn’t feel anything at all and will never react to anything but more so that their reactions will be very muted. Yes, they can get happy/surprised, etc. but they won’t have wide grins or loud exclamations of shock. 

Appearance

Plain Wardrobe: Clothes that are simple, unassuming, and devoid of vibrant colours; preferences for baggy/shapeless clothing. 

Neglect of Personal Grooming: Messy hair, unshaven, or generally unkempt appearance.

Monochrome Outfits: Preference for neutral, muted colours like grey, black, and white.

Practical Over Fashionable: Chooses functionality over style, reflecting a lack of interest in appearance.

Dialogue Cues

Monotone Speech: Flat, emotionless tone without inflection.

Brief Responses: Short, to-the-point answers with minimal elaboration.

Avoidance of Personal Topics: Steers conversations away from personal or emotional subjects.

Lack of Expressive Language: Uses simple, direct language without metaphors or descriptive flourishes.

Adjectives and Verbs

Descriptive Words: Detached, apathetic, vacant, stoic, unfeeling, indifferent, withdrawn, impassive, numb, aloof.

Action Words: Avoids, withdraws, dismisses, isolates, ignores, neglects, shuns, evades, suppresses, restrains.

Emotionally Neutral Verbs: Walks, talks, looks, sits (instead of strides, argues, gazes, lounges) listens, observes, reacts, replies, continues.

Subdued Descriptors: Plain, muted, dull, flat, colourless, bland, lifeless, monotonous, reserved, restrained.

Overcoming Emotional Numbness

Since there are several reasons why someone might be emotionally numb, each cause has different ways to overcome it. Here are a few common approaches:

Therapeutic Intervention: Therapy or counselling can help characters address underlying trauma or mental health issues. Techniques like cognitive-behavioral therapy (CBT) are often effective.

Supportive Relationships: Developing a trusting relationship with a friend, family member, or romantic partner can provide the emotional support needed to open up. This would be a better option for a character who has developed numbness due to past relationships and needs to ‘heal’. 

Personal Growth and Self-Discovery: Characters may embark on a journey of self-discovery, engaging in activities or experiences that help them reconnect with their emotions. It would be fun to see a numb character do this with a love interest or close friend. Maybe they’re ‘forced’ to go to an amusement park and the other characters are shocked to see them whoop/yell on one of the rides. 

Resources for Understanding and Overcoming Emotional Numbness

Here are some valuable resources to help you better understand and write about emotional numbness:

Books:

The Body Keeps the Score by Bessel van der Kolk

Waking the Tiger by Peter A. Levine

Research Papers:

Emotional Numbness in PTSD

Emotional Numbness Research Papers Directory

More:

Scholarly Resources on Emotional Numbness 

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Are you an author looking for writing tips and tricks to better your manuscript? Or do you want to learn about how to get a literary agent, get published and properly market your book? Consider checking out the rest of Quillology with Haya Sameer; a blog dedicated to writing and publishing tips for authors! While you’re at it, don’t forget to head over to my TikTok and Instagram profiles @hayatheauthor to learn more about my WIP and writing journey! 

[yumeka-sxf]

Japanese Linguistic Observations in Spy x Family - part 3

Part 3 - Yor's keigo

I discussed in part 1 about the different levels of speech in Japanese, particularly how Twilight changes his speech depending on the persona he's donning. He uses keigo, the standard polite form of speech, when he's acting as Loid Forger, but uses casual speech as Twilight. Yor, however, uses keigo all the time, to a degree that some would feel is excessive, but also makes sense for her character.

Keigo is the most basic form of polite speech in Japanese. It's the speech that's taught in pretty much every beginner Japanese learning course because it's the "safest" for most situations. Without getting too technical, it basically involves using the polite conjugations of verbs. All verbs in Japanese have a "polite" conjugation form that's used in keigo. For example, the verb "to go," 行く (iku), will change to 行きます (ikimasu): change the く(ku) to き (ki) and add -ます (-masu). -masu itself is then conjugated further to show past tense, negative tense, etc. Likewise, one would use です (desu) as the "to be" verb instead of its casual equivalent だ (da). For example, saying 車です (kuruma desu), which means "there is a car" instead of 車だ (kuruma da). It's even more casual to leave out the "to be" verb altogether.

Unlike Twilight, who changes his speech depending on who he's talking to or which facade he's using, Yor consistently uses keigo, whether she's talking to an adult like Loid, a child like Anya, and even an animal like Bond. She uses keigo with strangers as well, even those who are antagonistic to her, like the other assassins in the cruise arc.

Even at times when using polite speech isn't warranted, like in her own thoughts, she still uses keigo regardless.

In addition to using keigo with pretty much everyone, she also uses the polite -さん (-san) honorific with everyone's names as well. It's not unusual to do this with fellow adults like Loid, Camilla, and Franky, but when it comes to kids, especially when they're not your own kids, other honorifics are also an option. For example, adults can use the honorifics -ちゃん (-chan) for little girls and -くん (-kun) for little boys, both of which denote endearment to someone young/cute. Loid calls Damian "Damian-kun" and Fiona calls Anya "Anya-chan" for example. But Yor uses "-san" for Anya, Damian, Becky, and probably every other kid she hasn't met yet! She uses "-san" with animals as well, which isn't nearly as common. She's the only one who calls Bond "Bond-san" and she even called the cat Kopi from chapter 43, "Kopi-san."

She also uses "-san" for people whose names she doesn't know, and in some cases, probably shouldn't show respect to. She calls the terrorists from the doggy crisis arc "terrorist-san", bad guys that she takes out on her missions "warumono-san," Olka's group "mafia-san," and the other assassins from the cruise arc "koroshiya-san."

The only exception to Yor's excessive use of keigo is Yuri, which makes sense since it's standard practice to be more casual with a younger relative than an older relative or someone outside the family. He's the only person she refers to without "-san" (she just calls him "Yuri"). And while she does use the informal verb forms with him, she still uses "desu" and its conjugations. So overall, she's more casual with him, but not completely so.

When talking about herself, Yor uses the standard, gender-neutral, polite word for "I"/"me," 私 (watashi). However, when talking to others, she never uses any form of "you." Like I mentioned in part 1 about how there's different ways of saying "I" and "me" in Japanese depending on the speech level, the same is true for "you." But it's always more polite to say someone's name or title instead of "you," and Yor does that all the time. Just like in part 2 how I couldn't recall any instance where Anya says "I" or "me" since she always refers to herself in third person, I can't recall any time Yor called someone "you" instead of saying their name or title.

While Loid uses the casual "you" word お前 (omae) when talking to Anya, Bond, Franky, and anyone else he doesn't have to be polite with, he doesn't use any form of "you" for Yor. He speaks to her the same way she does to him – saying her name plus "-san" instead of using "you."

Unlike English, Japanese is a language where you don't have to say pronouns if it's understood by the context, which is why something like this is difficult to convey in a translation.

I think it's an interesting contrast that Twilight is constantly changing how he speaks depending on whether he's acting as Loid Forger, as a spy, whether he's conversing with a fellow spy like Fiona, a casual friend like Franky, someone he respects but can't be fully open with like Yor, and even how he talks to himself in his head…yet Yor is the total opposite. As I've discussed in this post, she's extremely consistent in her speech, never straying from being polite no matter who she's speaking to or whether she's in her Thorn Princess role or not, or even whether she's speaking to herself in her head or not. This just further proves that, while Yor has to keep her assassin job a secret, she doesn't have to create a fake persona for it. Unlike Twilight, who acts one way as a spy and another way as Loid Forger, and perhaps another as his "true" self, Yor doesn't feel the need to hide anything about herself other than her job as an assassin – Thorn Princess and Yor Forger are the same person who shows respect for others no matter what her relationship is with them.

Such excessive use of keigo is odd for a fluent speaker, but it's not unheard of. There are plenty of examples of characters from other anime/manga who use keigo all the time too. I think it gives us an interesting, subtle look into their character. In Yor's case, I think her constant use of keigo comes from a combination of her sweet personality that never wants to offend anyone, but also her poor self-esteem. After all, keigo and other polite forms of Japanese speech are meant to elevate the listener while humbling the speaker. Yor speaks politely to everyone because she simply wants to be kind to everyone and make them feel comfortable, even those she has to kill, but at the same time, she often feels inferior to others.

However, there are rare exceptions where Yor stops using keigo which are, appropriately, during very suspenseful, high-stakes moments where politeness would be the least of her worries. For example, during her fight with Barnaby when she realizes she's holding back, she starts using casual speech. But she goes back to keigo before too long.

But probably the most notable example of her completely dropping keigo is near the end of her big battle against the assassins on the cruise ship, where she finally comes to realize what she's fighting for. During her whole epiphany scene – starting from when she thinks of Yuri and herself as kids until she stands up and says she won't stop fighting – she switches completely to casual speech.

There are many ways to interpret this, but I think it shows what an emotional revelation this was for her: she remembered that the suffering in the world is what caused her to want to protect Yuri from any kind of tragedy, and now the same can be said for Loid, Anya, and Bond. She remembered the words of acceptance she heard from Loid when they first met, words no one else had likely ever said to her before. She realized that she didn't care what happened to her as long as she could stop anything bad from happening to her loved ones – in that moment, no formalities were necessary with such intense self-reflection.

Continue to Part 4 ->

<- Return to Part 2

[tangsakura]

Sukuna's Backstory Theory (+ mini Uraume Backstory Theory)

While we wait for jjk ch 265 leaks, I hope you enjoy reading this post of mine in the meantime.

Please note that this is just my theory. Also, Sukuna deserves to die.

Now enjoy your reading.

WARNING: MANGA SPOILERS UP TO CH 264; subject covers the following sensitive topics: sacred s*x, cannibalism, homosexual relationships; mentions or implications of abuse

Beginning:

We know from Sukuna himself in chapter 237 that he was an 忌み子 - a taboo child. In ancient and medieval Japan, a taboo child is a child that is ostracized, unwanted, and discarded.

JJK CHAPTER 237

As mentioned by Sukuna, he himself 'consumed' his twin to survive and had presumed that his 'foolish mother' (愚母 - he wasn't looking down on her, calling her stupid, but instead he was humbly referring to her) must have been starving.

JJK CHAPTER 257

Prominent families during that time were the Fujiwara, Sugawara and Abe clans. For sure, he wasn't born a noble, but rather a commoner, or worst, a slave. He must've been born with weak or below average CE, too, aside from his four arms, four eyes, and the second face.

It was probably only him and his mother in the beginning and she was the only one taking care of him. Given their supposed circumstances, Sukuna must've started working by the time he was around 5 or 6. Plus, if I were to guess where they would've lived, it would be in the agricultural lands of a Buddhist-Shinto temple. In Heian era, Buddhism and Shinto co-existed together (shinbutsu-shuugoo) so it's not strange to find Buddhist temples to have at least one small shrine dedicated to a kami (a Shinto god/goddess) [these are calles jisha (寺社)] and Shinto shrines accompanied by Buddhist temples in mixed complexes [these are called jinguuji (神宮寺)].

In addition, these institutions had these manorial estates called, shooen (荘園), which were "any of the private, tax free, often autonomous estates or manors...... developed from land tracts assigned to officially sanctioned Shintō shrines or Buddhist temples or granted by the emperor as gifts to the Imperial family, friends, or officials." In the case of shrines and temples with shrines in them, they are called mikuri (御厨), which means a god's/goddess' kitchen.

The Chinese characters for mikuri are the same as the first two letters of Sukuna's CT (御厨子). In the beginning, mikuri only referred to the place where shrine offerings/sacred food (fish, vegetables, etc.) were cooked, but it eventually also included the land or property where they get the offerings from and prepare them in the meaning. Plus, the citizens of these lands/properties were called "gods' & goddesses' people" (神人, shinjin), and these mostly consisted of the producers (fishermen, farmers, etc.). We can definitely infer that Sukuna has most likely worked in the cooking area of the mikuri, the 御厨子所 (mizushidokoro, a kitchen for the upper classes and the shrines and temples) Think about it, not only does he use words related to consuming, but he also referenced fish-related words.

JJK CH 224 - "A fish who merely has no name attached to it."

JJK CH 216 - "卸す" - to grate (e.g. vegetables); to cut up fish "三枚に卸す” - to cut you into three slices (fillet)

JJK CHAPTER 8 - "おろした" - past tense verb of 卸す "三枚におろした” - cut you into three slices (fillet)

(light blue is just to cover watermarks)

In Heian era, meat was forbidden except for some parts in Japan where hunting was really common (except for aristocrats and monks lowkey - they do eat them at times, especially when they fall sick). Fish was temporarily banned but was eventually lifted. So, majority of the Japanese people during this time period didn't eat meat with the exception of fish and other seafood. Moreover, when cooking the shrine offerings, the only meat they cooked was seafood. Plus, if he and his mom was in one of the shrine and temples in Heian-kyoo (present-day Kyoto), then chances are he had to cook for festivities and rituals in the imperial palace.

But then, how did he learn to read and write? The only one who were literate were the imperial family, aristocrats, Shinto priests, Buddhist monks, and anyone else related to religious institutions and higher rank than commoners. So the only available ways for him to have access to learning kanji (漢字 - Sino-Japanese characters) and even kana (hiragana and katakana) was to become an apprentice monk or priest. But I believe he became a Buddhist apprentice monk since it is more open than becoming a Shinto priest.

If he had started as a worker in the mikuri, he would have been secretly listening to the lessons between an apprentice and the older monk. Then, if he managed to prove his talent, he could have become an apprentice. If he were an apprentice monk, he would have to learn directly from an older monk. This would not stop him from working as a kitchen worker since he would have to help with preparing offerings and cooking for important occasions and guests.

As an apprentice, he would have learned everything about Buddhism, including how to preach to people. Unfortunately, there was a cost to this. It was the nanshuudou, the homosexual practice between a prepubescent apprentice monk and an older adult monk, which is heavily documented in Edo period but a practice that has been ongoing in the Shinto priest apprenticeships and eventually in Buddhist monk apprenticeship, as well. Mind you, this is not a practice between male lovers, but of loyalty and the first step to 'reaching enlightenment'. I think of it as a pseudo-sacred s*xual relationship. It is something expected at that time, but it may not have been a great experience for Sukuna. He was a taboo child, meaning even those older monks most likely made this harsher than it already was. Not to mention, he might have been as young as 7 or 8 years old when this all happened.

This was also sort of thought of by a JP theorist, according to this twitter user.

Anyways, let's move on from this sensitive topic.

You might be wondering why do I think he had been an apprentice monk and a cook? Well, mizushi (御厨子) also has these meanings.

Zushi (厨子) originally was a word for storage boxes for utensils and ingredients in the kitchen, then extended into becoming a storage for personal stuff and a decoration as well for aristocrats.

Zushi also extended to becoming a storage for Buddhism relics, scrolls or anything important. This includes the Buddhist altars. Thus becoming Mizushi, sacred storage.

Additionally, as an apprentice monk, he would be able to interact with nobility more. Buddhism was intertwined with the court politics in Heian era. This is more prominent when court officials and even the imperial family members, including the Emperor, would retire as Buddhist nuns or monks. Plus, there would also be visits by the officials and probably he was able to see or receive letters and poems from them. It would be inevitable that he learns them to communicate effectively.

This would also makes sense as he knew Tengen, who was an avid supporter of Buddhism.

Career as a Sorcerer:

In an era where the Fujiwara clan ruled supreme, leaving barely any crumbs for other aristocratic clans to take spots in the political arena. So, in order to consolidate their own power, many other clans (including the minor/weak branch families of the Fujiwaras) and Imperial princes went to obtain their own land outside of Heian-kyoo (present-day Kyoto) and even their own army. That's why these clans have armies of their own, especially those full of sorcerers. I won't be surprised if they took in anyone who has curse energy and trained them, just like what the Fujiwaras did with Uro.

So, I believe that someone noticed his cursed energy and his potential, then took him for training. Then obviously he would have met other Heian-era sorcerers. Here are my two cents on this:

I would like to believe that Tengen trained him as she was also an avid supporter of the religion, and he eventually met Kenjaku as they're 'friends' with her. Being a jujutsu sorcerer apprentice meant quitting or being part-time in his apprenticeship from the Buddhist Temple. (But I wonder if this would have stopped the pseudo-sacred s*x stuff.......) However, I'm open to the fact that it might have been another sorcerer who trained him (or there has been another one besides Tengen and Kenjaku who did so or influenced him) due to the name of his extension technique 'Divine Flames, Open'

One of the opposing factions (either the Sugawara, Tachibana or Abe clan) to the Fujiwara hired him in their order to put them in check. I'm leaning more towards the Sugawara clan.

This was probably the time when he probably met Angel from Abe clan, Uro from the Fujiwara, and especially Uraume. I'll explain how Uraume is related to the Sugawaras in a bit.

Sukuna served as part of Sugawara's troops or something like that. This can also be the point where he learned more about Japanese art and culture at the time.

One of the curses he must've fought was Yamata no Orochi.

Sukuna betrayed the Sugawaras and destroyed its army of sorcerers, with a few survivors left. Uraume decided to dedicate their whole life to him and followed him from then on.

He officially became a curse user and wrecked havoc in Japan, especially Heian-kyoo

Angel got enraged from his acts and with the permission of the Abe clan and the remnants of Sugawara clan, they jumped on Sukuna but lost.

Later on, he defeated the Fujiwara army led by Uro.

How is Uraume related to the Sugawaras?

There's this video from JP channel that was theorizing about Uraume when they first appeared in Shibuya arc a couple years ago that they used to be trapped in the prison realm before being freed so that Kenjaku can use it for Gojo Satoru and it was time for Sukuna's resurrection but this was obviously debunked, but there was something interesting that the creator brought up - the Tobiume.

Have you heard about The Legend of the Flying Plum (飛梅伝説)? So basically, when Sugawara no Michizane was demoted in ranking because of the Fujiwaras and was exiled, he wrote a poem expressing his sorrow of not seeing his precious plum tree in his residence in Heian-kyo (present-day Kyoto) ever again. Then from this, a romantic legend came about, where the plum tree was so fond of its master and cannot bear to be apart from him that it finally flew to Dazaifu, where he was exiled to, and that tree became known as tobi-ume (飛梅, 'the flying plum').

Michizane loves plum trees and plum blossoms, so it won't be strange if there were people in the clan named after plum blossoms or plum. In my case, I believe that Uraume is related to the Sugawara clan, but their status in the clan itself wasn't great. We can assume from their name in kanji, 裏梅.

裏 means the following:

opposite side; bottom; other side; side hidden from view; undersurface; reverse side

rear; back; behind

in the shadows; behind the scenes; offstage; behind (someone's) back

梅 means plum

Though they may have been born from a noble, prestigious clan, they remained in the shadows. My theory is that, for whatever reason it may be, Uraume's life wasn't as good as before Sukuna allowed them to serve him. They might have been an illegitimate child or they might have some deformity we don't know of, or whatever. Then they met Sukuna and the rest was history.

Do you not believe that Uraume is not related to the Sugawaras?

Let me show you a picture of the Sugawara clan crest.

They call this umebachi. A plum blossom crest.

And what's in Uraume's name? Ume (梅) - plum.

Another thing here that fulfill its name is the fact that Uraume is Sukuna's servant. Just like the tobiume, they follow their master from behind and cannot bear to be apart from him.

'Divine Flames, Open':

Here's something that caught my attention.

Kamino (カミノ) has the kanji 竈, that is originally pronounced as kamado. It means traditional Japanese wood or charcoal-fueled cook stove​. Fuuga (フーガ) has the kanji 開, originally pronounced as kai, meaning open. Now everything else is purely Japanese except these two.

Kamino and fuuga originated from Latin and Ancient Greek, and both exist in the Romance languages. How tf is he using these words? Around Heian era, only the Eastern Roman Empire is standing and the main language there was Greek....... but that's around present-day Turkey and its surroundings. The furthest they reached in trade was China...... oh wait, Heian era Japan still traded with China........

Seems like that theory of Chinese sorcerer isn't far-fetched, eh?

(But fr tho, do you think he met someone from Byzantine? There's no confirmation time travel is a thing so that's the only possible explanation)

Cannibalism:

Cannibalism, believe it or not, was practiced in China from Tang Dynasty and onwards. Remarkably, Heian era's last major Chinese contact was with Tang Dynasty. Records of cannibalism must have been brought from Tang Dynasty China along with Buddhism and other things by monks who were sent to China by the government.

It was said that human flesh of a young person was a great medical treatment for illnesses. So there would be young people, especially females, sacrificing some of their flesh for the sake of their parents or parent-in-laws recovery. Furthermore, Emperors, e.g. Wuzong of Tang, supposedly ordered provincial officials to send them "the hearts and livers of fifteen-year-old boys and girls" when they had become seriously ill, hoping in vain this medicine would cure him. Later on, private individuals sometimes followed their example, paying soldiers who kidnapped preteen children for their kitchen.

There was also something called war cannibalism, in which victors in a battle, war, or conflict would eat the dead enemy's flesh as "official punishments and private vengeance", as well as "celebrating victory over them."

Therefore, I propose that Sukuna started cannibalism as a way to treat an illness or disease - in private obviously since in Heian era, meat other than seafood was banned and meat that becomes available for special occassions or circumstances like falling sick are reserved for the upper class, plus if he ever was an apprentice monk, he would not have been allowed to consume meat. Since Heian era had outbreaks, such as smallpox, and also common diseases, anyone can get it, including him. So, not wanting to die, he resorted to this. But then it eventually became a habit that also extended to eating people he defeated in battles and young people and women for medicinal and nutritional purposes later on. This is the most likely the reason why in the first chapter, he was looking for children and women.

But if he had contracted some sort of illness or disease at some point in his youth and cannibalism (obviously) wasn't a cure for it, how would he have survived it and lived longer? Perhaps it might have to do with Tengen - who knows if she could have an extension technique of her Immortality CE, where she could have extended his lifespan. It could have had to do with Kenjaku; with their vast knowledge, it's possible he offered a solution to him. However, I'm leaning more towards Tengen helping him in this regard. It was also probably the reason why she ended up having four eyes and all because of this. But, of course, he couldn't escape death, so he agreed to Kenjaku's terms and became cursed objects to reincarnate later on.

My second proposition is that Sukuna was maltreated and the people didn't bother sharing meager amount of food available to him. We know that because of the Fujiwara family's political monopoly in the capital as well as the distribution of the land to nobility made it possible for them to abuse their power. For instance, these lords imposed taxes in an unreasonable amount to fund their lavish lifestyle, which obviously made life hard for the peasants and slaves since goods such as silk, grains and food became a common medium of exchange when the currency fell. So you can imagine how much they had to give up just to pay their taxes. This definitely made their food supply low. I can also imagine Sukuna was blamed for misfortunes and misery they have experienced because of his status as a taboo child. I don't think they would provide him food and so he would have to rely on dead people to survive.

And assuming that we're going off with this proposition instead of the other one, I think the reason why Sukuna was seeking women and children because in the past, it was more common for children and women to die. Children are naturally more vulnerable and women die easily, especially during childbirth. I'm certain that the most common corpses or bodies he must've found were those of children and women. But, of course, eventually he began to crave humans because he got so used to it that normal food didn't satisfy his hunger any longer - not that cannibalism fully resolved it, though.

The Fallen:

(I'm not gonna lie, majority of what I would say here are more assumptions based on Geto's and a bit of Yuji's acts)

Everyone has been comparing Sukuna and Gojo, seeing them as foils and parallels. I acknowledge that they are similar to each other and whatnot. But what if I tell you that he could've gone through an experience or two similar to Geto?

Think about it. Wouldn't you consider Geto as a 'Fallen One'? He was a righteous man, whose goal is to protect the weak as a strong person. But after the Toji incident, his moral convictions and purpose has been questioned by himself, and eventually, he fell from grace - being stripped of his status as a jujutsu sorcerer and thus becoming a curse user. He had the same values but they were reinterpreted and twisted.

If my theory on Sukuna being educated at a Buddhist Temple is true, then he must have believed in the salvation of those who are suffering (like Yuji to some extent), but was corrupted along the way. He had the same ideals, but it became reinterpreted and twisted. I think the reason why he hates Yuji because he is seeing all those he threw away to gain freedom and absolute strength in jujutsu in him. Both of them are inverses of each other, and it's not a surprise if Yuji is the representation of the old Sukuna.

I mean if you look at nobility back in Heian era, they kept indulging themselves in leisure and pleasure to the point that they neglected the economy. Literally the currency fell and all those bureaucratic and admin work fell mostly to lower classes working in each ministry. Basically back then, the higher you were in the hierarchy, the more pleasure you could attain and keep chasing for. How else did you think Japanese art, literature and culture came to be during this era? This was where he probably learned about hedonism or what influenced him to be one.

Not to mention, people who would've taken advantage of him for their pleasure, curiosity, greed and personal gains, power and control, and many more reasons. He could have been like Geto and Yuji, who exorcise curses and help the weak. There was a turning point where he decided to let go of everything and walk the path that he has been in for the last 1000 years.

I am not surprised if he decided to be who he is today as a revenge to the world, a response to the trauma and suffering he went through just like Geto.

If I am right about Sukuna going through a similar experience as Geto did, then this page below brings a whole new meaning to the Gojo vs Sukuna fight on December 24, 2018 - the death anniversary of Geto:

JJK CH 223

But despite all of these, there's one thing we can agree on - that is, he became the monster the world sees him as in the end.

That will be it. I hope y'all like it to some extent. Until then.

References:

Heian Era, Buddhism, 御厨子 -related Topics:

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sh%C5%8Den/

https://ja.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E5%BE%A1%E5%8E%A8

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Buddhist_temples_in_Japan

https://www.britannica.com/place/Japan/The-Heian-period-794-1185

https://www.colorado.edu/ptea-curriculum/imaging-japanese-history-1

https://ja.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E5%8E%A8%E5%AD%90

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sugawara_no_Michizane

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Heian_period

https://www.colorado.edu/ptea-curriculum/imaging-japanese-history-1

Homosexuality in Medieval Japan:

https://www.tofugu.com/japan/gay-samurai/

https://ida.mtholyoke.edu/items/19c86409-c129-46a1-927b-11cfe0ffb1c3

Cannibalism & Sacred S*x-related Topics:

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Human_cannibalism

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Medical_cannibalism&diffonly=true

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cannibalism_in_Asia

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sexual_ritual

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sacred_prostitution

Ancient Greek, Latin, & Roman Empire Topics:

https://en.m.wiktionary.org/wiki/fuga

https://en.m.wiktionary.org/wiki/caminus

https://en.m.wiktionary.org/wiki/camino

https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sino-Roman_relations

YouTube Videos I Referenced:

https://youtu.be/5n24Ulc8u84?si=Nngbg4xEqyNu82x8

https://youtu.be/WhBN29CIuAQ?si=5bNryoT-GzleIGq9

Reddit Posts I Referenced:

https://www.reddit.com/r/Jujutsushi/comments/1bngk9x/i_solved_one_of_the_great_mysteries_of_the_heian/

https://www.reddit.com/r/AskHistorians/comments/ztay5e/what_foreign_countries_did_japan_have_trade/

https://www.reddit.com/r/AskHistorians/comments/zs4k9p/what_was_life_like_for_the_average_people_heian/

Twitter Posts I Referenced:

https://x.com/eldammonite/status/1571157320570380295

https://x.com/lightningclare/status/1807467771913269374

[astra-ryuusei]

"Awakening the Sleeping Giant" p2

people seemed to like the first post so have a little more :)

might put it on ao3 later or something

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

The language barrier is a problem, Ulchtar finally decides once they touch down, and his new friend seems to agree.

He’d hit a snag in trying to describe where to go when he realized the Giant had been asleep for longer than English had existed as a language. Thankfully, gestures seemed to be more-or-less universal, so he was able to get across the idea of where to go eventually. They’re currently nestled in a cave somewhere in the Scandinavian mountains. It’s a remote place, especially after the alien attacks in the area a few years back. But he knows that this isn’t a permanent solution.

They need to learn to communicate before the inability to do so gets them both killed.

Which is why they’re now taking turns scratching out a massive diagram on the cave floor with sticks…Well, a stick and a small tree. They’d been trading words back and forth for a good two hours now. As best as he could tell, the Giant’s language was actually quite simple—consisting mainly of nouns, verbs, descriptors, and modifiers to those two things. It wasn’t particularly elegant, but it was versatile enough.

They’d started with things that were easily drawn-out or mimed: things like “person,” “me,” “you.” There was sort of a pronoun system, and the Giant…seemed to be a “he,” or an equivalent. Then they’d tried to build from there—he’d figured out some of the verbs, and how to phrase things as a question, and from there the two of them had hit it off. Now he was trying to get the guy up to speed, because everything would be a whole lot easier if they knew what was going on.

“So…[me-category-] human.” He points to the crude little figure of a human he’s drawn, and the Giant nods along.

How to explain the war…? “Humans [-planet-creation-positive-] Earth.” He points to the rough map of the world they’ve drawn out, then to the Giant’s rather detailed drawing of a kaiju. “[Planet-creation-negative-] Earth.”

They lean down a little closer to the drawing. “Quintesson,” he says with what sounds like outright distaste. Ulchtar’s a little taken aback by that.

“[Question.] Quintesson [-them. Name?]”

“[Name-positive.] Quintessons [negative-negative-negative.]” They confirm. Okay, triple negatives, so this guy hated the damned things just as much as anyone else. Maybe it wasn’t just Earth under siege…?

“Quintessons [motion-inside] Earth…[creation-negative] humans.” He’s painfully aware of his limited vocabulary, hoping it’s enough to get the point across. The Giant seems to pick up on the intent, tensing up just a little.

He continues. “Humans…[Eyes-positive-you. Humans-creation-negative, desire-negative.] So... [negative-brain-do-positive-you. Creations-do-similar.]” We found you. We didn’t want to die. We studied you. Tried to make things like you.

The Giant whirls towards him at that, picking him up to hold him at eye level. The grip is just tight enough to hurt, just enough to feel like a threat. “[You…complete-negative-me?]”

Ulchtar waves his hands in front of his face frantically, mortified. Oh, he’s really fucked up this time. He didn’t realize the Giant remembered getting taken apart like that. “[M-me-do-negative! Complete-positive-repeat!]” He sputtered. I put you back together!

It wasn’t technically a lie. He hadn’t exactly done it out of the kindness of his heart, but it wasn’t a lie.

The glare softens just a bit, the grip relaxing. He's not in immediate risk of death anymore.

They keep talking for a few hours, until it gets too dark to really see what he's doing anymore.

He hmms, trying to think of the right words…

“Uh…” He points up at the sliver of sky above them. “[Sky. Light-negative. Me-vision-negative.]”

“[…Recharge-you? Eyes-positive-me.]” He was offering to keep watch while Ulchtar slept, he mentally translated.

He nodded, fumbling mentally to figure out how to respond to that. “[…Gratitude-positive.]”

Then, another thought occurred to him. “[You. Name. Question?]”

The Giant paused for a second at that, wings drooping just a little bit. “[…name-knowledge-negative. Memory-negative-negative.]”

…oh.

Ulchtar can’t help but feel a little bad for asking now. He tries to shift the topic a bit, pointing to himself. “[Me. Name.] Ulchtar.”

That gets a tilt of the head. “[You. Name. Sound-similar…Star-sound-positive-positive-pitch-positive?]” In this language, the name and the phrase do sound kind of alike, actually. He laughs at that.  

“Star…scream? [Desire-name. Name-sound-positive-positive-positive.]” He adds three positives for emphasis, because it does sound way more badass than “Ulchtar.”

The ground shakes just slightly, and he realizes the Giant is laughing.

Don't get too attached, he reminds himself. They could betray you any second. He's just as dangerous as these Quintessons if he wants to be.

“Oh, knock it off…” He curls up on a relatively comfy-looking patch of cave moss, bundling himself up in some extra clothes in lieu of anything warmer. The cave’s warmer than outside, but still a bit chilly even with the ambient heat from the Giant’s engines heating it up.

It doesn’t stop him from eventually slipping into sleep.

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

The mech with no name shifts his weight just a little, trying to get comfortable in his hiding spot among the mountains. It’s not much—just a little nook in the rocks where it’s tough to spot him—but it’s better than being out in the open, as badly as he wants to stretch out his wings and fly again.

He doesn’t want to put the human—Starscream—Ulchtar—in danger.

Ulchtar’s the only companion he has in this world right now, after all.

So he’s probably going to stick with him for a bit—in no small part because he really doesn’t know where else he’d go. Most of his memory is long since corrupted, throwing him all kinds of errors whenever he tries to think back to before.

He knows, in broad strokes, what he is. He knows he’s a mechanical lifeform. He knows he’s a shapeshifter of some sort. He knows he can fly, and is probably designed to explore space. He knows what the parts inside of him are—what a spark is and that he needs to drink energon to survive. He knows the Quintessons want him dead.

But he doesn’t know who he is. His name. Where he came from. What his own species is called…

Does he have a species?

This whole world was filled with organic life, and nothing else—it was clear that the other machines he’d seen in that laboratory weren’t alive, but rather artificial constructs. They resembled him, but only superficially. He can’t feel their sparks, let alone any sort of EM field—something even the organics of this world have, albeit very faint ones.

Which leaves him with a very frightening question.

Am I alone?

His internal clock is telling him he’s been on this planet for six million years, trapped in stasis.

Surely someone must’ve looked for him, right? One of his kind, maybe? Surely six million years would’ve been long enough for a search party to find him.

If nobody had ever come looking for him, then…then either there was nobody left to send, or he’d mattered so little that nobody had ever bothered to remember him.

He wasn’t sure which hurt more: being alone, or being nobody.

Something wet drips onto his face.

Terrible time for rain, he thinks to himself.

But when he looks up, there’s not a cloud in the sky.

How odd…

He brushes it away, trying not to think about the question hanging over his head.

The night after that is largely uneventful, up until he notices a strange blue-green light on the horizon.

He pokes his head through the entrance. Was dawn supposed to come this early? Was it usually that color?

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

When he’s exhausted, Ulchtar is a pretty heavy sleeper.

That said, the fact that the Giant doesn’t wake him up when he moves away is still damned impressive. No, he only wakes up when it starts getting cold again. Still groggy, it takes him a few seconds to realize his vanished from his spot—something that makes him snap awake instantly in a panic.

He looked up towards the surface. Had he been abandoned? Was the Giant going back to—

Oh.

He sees his companion’s winged silhouette just beyond the mouth of the cave, illuminated in blue and green and violet.

He’s staring at something.

Ulchtar creeps closer, and quickly understands why. There’s an aurora snaking across the sky in full force above the mountains, and the Giant watches in wonder.

His wings twitch when Ulchtar draws near, as if sensing him somehow. “Starscream [recharge-positive?]” He asks. It seems like the nickname is sticking.

“[Recharge-positive],” he agrees. It’s another half-truth; he was sleeping fine until he got cold.

The Giant points up at the aurora, looking very confused. “[Occurrence. Name. Question?]”

“Aurora borealis.”

“[Common-positive? Threat-positive? Question?]”

“[Common-negative. Threat-negative.]” Ulchtar assures him.

He seems to relax a bit at that. “[Eye-similar…sky-heat-positive-light-positive.]”

“Yeah, kinda…” He really does not have the vocabulary to explain how the hell an aurora works. "The sky set itself on fire" is as good an explanation as any.

They nod along. “[Vision…positive-positive-positive.]”

That’s a lot of words to say “it’s pretty,” Ulchtar thinks to himself with a little smile, but jolts when his friend’s wings suddenly flatten against his back, an expression of…something like recognition on his face.

“[Name. Me. Memory-negative-now-positive. Sky-heat-positive-light-positive!]” He puts his hands together and looks to Ulchtar almost expectantly, as if he wants him to try translating this name too.

"...Skyfire," he decides after a few seconds.

The look "Skyfire" gives him at that...He's trying his best not to get attached, to do his best impression of a chessmaster moving his pawns around, but by God, if push came to shove he would kill for that smile.

[lottielovelace]

công chúa

(ghost x könig's-sister!reader)

summary: You're just a student trying to make through med school with your sanity intact. That last thing you needed was to be kidnapped to serve as a hostage for a half-brother you've never met.

At least the special forces operative here to help is cute.

originally posted on ao3 (wordcount: 3.8k)

Rating: T

Relationships: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader, Kate Laswell x her wife (I call her Jean), König & Reader <- PLATONIC

Ao3 Tags: meet cute! in a prison camp / First Meetings / tries to follow canon characterization / less so canon events/timeline / so some things (like the villains) are VERY vague / Past Suicide Attempt / Undercover Simon "Ghost" Riley / Unmasked Simon "Ghost" Riley / (Temporarily) / reader has a name & backstory but I tried to make it unobtrusive

this is a part of a series

Author's note: I do write this story with a specific OC (check the series masterpost if you want a full breakdown of her) in mind just so characterization is consistent, but I tried to make it possible for you to replace her with whoever you imagine. I do have to explicitly mention details unique to the OC (most obvious example here being her ethnicity and name [Elise Veidt]), but for the most part I'll try to keep things open ended (ex: using "your hair" instead of "your dark hair").

Also, as I mentioned, the OC's ethnicity (half-Vietnamese) is pretty plot relevant this chapter, but if that disrupts your reading flow, feel free to mentally replace it with whatever makes sense for your own personal read-through. I'm not used to writing in second person, so the verb tenses are kinda screwy.

Also this is in the tags but TW: DISCUSSION OF A PAST SUICIDE ATTEMPT (character has for the most part fully recovered)

công chúa:

People could be so fucking stupid sometimes. Bold and stupid. Newbies especially. New recruits—or in this case, new criminal organizations—always think they’ll be special. The exception to the rule.

Take for example, this new group who had the bloody brilliant idea of trying to control special forces (and a handful of top PMCs) by kidnapping anyone ransom-worthy they could get their grubby little hands on. Which meant a lot of missing parents, kid siblings, and SOs.

Ghost couldn’t tell if they actually thought that would work or if this was just some distraction. Perhaps an intimidation ploy or a small part of some greater plan. Either way, in reality, all they ended up with was a whole bunch of pissed-off—and very well trained—soldiers, many of whom were willing to do anything to get their loved ones back. Even allying with their greatest rivals. Ghost didn’t predict to end up working with KorTac of all bedfellows, but even their lads weren’t safe. 

In the past month, he'd had to bear witness to his comrades and competitors getting wrecked, worried sick over their nearest and dearest. Laswell might’ve single-handedly revived the tobacco industry and he’d never seen Johnny so torn up.

Ghost himself had been spared any grief. He would’ve liked to pretend that it was because his mask had protected his identity so well, but the reality was much simpler and bleaker. He had nobody to take. Tommy and Joseph and Beth and Mum were all already six feet under. Nothing would ever change that.

That being said, the mask wasn’t useless.

The hostagers had done extensive research into all their personal lives. They needed to in order to find out who they could kidnap and how. They had become intimately familiar with every combatant their cobbled alliance could send—with one glaring exception.

They certainly knew about Ghost, but not even they knew Ghost’s face—at least according to the dossier smuggled to the Task Force.

After that was discovered, going undercover was less of a choice and more of a duty.

----------

“Jean?”

The woman’s head jerked up at the whispered sound of her name. Finding no one in front of her, she swiveled. Her eyes landed on an idle balaclava-ed guard.

“Don’t look at me,” the guard commanded. He followed his own advice, keeping his gaze trained on the horizon. His voice was low and rough. Familiar.

Jean Laswell hazarded one last glance at him. She squinted, trying to place where she'd seen him before.

A stifled gasp rang out as her eyes widened in recognition.

“Ghost?”

“Keep your voice down, I’m undercover.”

Jean tried to keep her body language innocuous, eyes now glued to her own clasped hands. The last thing she wanted was to blow Ghost's cover.

“It’s good to see your face— or er, hear your voice.” Pleasantries aside, she went straight to the first question on her mind, the one that had plagued her sleepless nights. “How’s Kate?”

"Smoking like a chimney, but otherwise holding up. She misses you."

"Are you here to…"

"Not yet. KorTac and the team are planning a mutual offensive, but we need more intel before exfil becomes viable. Intel I was tasked with collecting."

His tone didn't reassure her.

"But…"

"I ran into a little roadblock. I was supposed to receive, memorize, and orally deliver crucial information about the compound’s layout and security flaws. We’d had some limited online communication with our informant, but couldn’t get anything sensitive past the security systems. So I volunteered to get it directly. Unfortunately, we didn’t know that our informant only speaks Vietnamese, Cantonese, and some very broken Russian. The dictionary he’d been previously using isn’t complex enough for the level of detail we need. Our shared Russian skills aren’t much better. I can’t leave until I have the intel memorized and I can’t memorize it until we find a translator."

"Could you leave and come back with a translator? A digital one maybe if you can't get anyone else past the guards?"

Ghost shook his head, “They know that we're trying to infiltrate them. They’re very strict about what technology gets in and out. Besides, my cover is only so good. I should be able to get a believable excuse to leave camp, but the scrutiny required for re-entry would compromise it.”

Jean pursed her lips in thought, running over the possibilities. She paused, half thinking out loud.

“I think the princess speaks Vietnamese.”

“Princess?” Ghost’s eyes widened beneath his mask. Shit, no one told him they'd taken someone so high profile. That significantly complicated security procedure. “I thought all their targets were lowkey.”

“No, no, she’s not royalty. She’s a med student. It’s just a nickname,” Jean hastily corrected with an embarrassed laugh. “We have a lot of those here. We get kinda bored.”

Ghost silently thought back on his own POW experiences.

“Things could be a whole lot worse than boredom.”

“The perks of being a hostage," Jean responded dryly. "Need us in one piece.”

“So where’s this ‘princess’ of yours?”

“There,” Jean pointed at the upper level of the compound's eastern turret. “You can see where the nickname comes from. She’s in solitary, but she has a window that we talk to her through during yard time.”

“What'd she do?” Unless the hostage takers were worse than he thought, they wouldn’t put someone in solitary for shits and giggles.

“She’s… a special case."

“Who’s she tied to?”

“That’s the thing. We don’t know. Not even she knows.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I know I’m here because of Kate. Ritchie’s here because of his uncle. Troy because of his brother. Eileen… could be her nephew, but it’s probably Soap. But Elise—that’s her name, Elise Veidt. Do you know any Veidts in Special Forces or KorTac?”

“Not to my knowledge, no. Could it be her boyfriend?”

Jean shook her head, “No. The common theory is an uncle or half sibling. Both her parents were civilians, but her father had family and an ex-wife on the other side of the Atlantic. She has no idea where they are now or if they’re even still alive, but it seems the most likely—if not the only—possibility. Plus she was single when she was discovered.”

Ghost's brow furrowed.

“Discovered? What do you mean by that?”

“There was… an incident. It ended with her being taken into custody.”

Ghost wanted to press for more detail, but Jean flashed him a look that stopped him in his tracks. She was married to Laswell, and that doesn't happen without being able to hold her own in an argument.

“It’s not my story to tell." Her tone was measured, but Ghost could tell this was non-negotiable to her. “She’s a good kid. Just got in a bit of a rough patch. Along the way she had her blood tested and it must’ve pinged… something. Next thing she knows, she’s getting transferred. They refuse to tell her where. When she resists, she gets knocked out and wakes up here.”

“That still doesn’t explain the isolation.”

“We think that whoever she’s related to, it must be someone important. Or someone very dangerous. Someone they’re scared to anger.”

“Then why did they kidnap her if they’re so bloody afraid of pissing the bugger off?”

“Taking her was probably a calculated risk. Returning her damaged a death sentence. They wanted to make sure she doesn’t get hurt, either by her own hand or someone else’s.”

----------

Ghost cautiously approached the cell door. According to the directory, this was “Detainee #934287: VEIDT, Elisabeth.” He peered through the grate, careful not to get too close to the opening—he knew firsthand how solitary confinement could warp the mind and liked having both his eyes intact.

From what he could see, the cell had a tiny cot, stripped of its sheets on the left. On the right was a wash basin and bucket. In between was a small window—just large enough to stick your face out of. It wasn’t the worst cell Ghost had seen, but it wasn’t homey either. It also appeared to be empty.

“What the—” he muttered under his breath.

The low rumble of his voice almost made you jump from your position, sitting leaned against the door. The window was your only connection to the outside world, but it also made your cell freezing so you tried to stay as far away from it as possible when there was no one outside to talk to. You paused, confused then intrigued. You didn’t think they had a British guard. Slowly, you got up.

He was closer than you assumed. Right up against the door, you almost had to suppress the urge to jump again. You silently mourned the fact that such a pretty pair of eyes were wasted on some terrorist dipshit.

Still, you were bored enough that anything seemed intriguing.

“You’re new.”

“You’re Elise, right?”

Your lips quirked with all the cockiness of someone who knew they couldn’t be touched.

“Shouldn’t they have already debriefed you on that?”

“The only person who’s briefed me on you was Jean.”

Your eyes narrowed. You may have only been able to communicate through a tiny window, but you trusted Jean. You knew her. She wouldn't rat on you, not without a fight.

“What did you do to her?”

“Nothing,” his voice grew even gentler. Soft in a way that commanded you to hang on every word. “I’m here to help.”

Attractive voice and eyelashes aside, you were still unimpressed.

“Really?”

“I'm on a reconnaissance mission for Special Forces. I was supposed to memorize this file. I wasn’t told it was going in Vietnamese.”

You perked up at this. Finally, things were making a little sense.

“I speak Vietnamese.”

“So I’ve heard.”

You took one last look at him, trying to figure out if this was a trick or some sick game. Then again, if it was, what would they even do? Your captors didn’t seem allowed to punish you physically, and mentally there wasn’t much more they could do. Fuck it, you had nothing to lose.

You reached out your hand, “Gimme.”

He slipped you a folded up piece of paper. You unfolded it to reveal an annotated set of blueprints.

“Pen or pencil?” For all you know, he could be picky about that sort of stuff.

The man stood up to dig for something in his vest. You quietly realized that he’d been bending down to look you in the eye. This man, whoever he was, was tall.

He passed you a pen. You noticed that while his hands were gloved, a whisper of a tattoo peeked out as his sleeve rode up. It looked like it could be the bottom of a skull. Or a very small picket fence. Probably the former.

You figured he'd turn away and leave you to your work, but he doesn’t.

“Are you going to…”

“No,” he responded firmly. “If either of us get caught, at least two of us are screwed. I know I can get myself out of it, but our informant can’t. I won’t have his blood on your or my hands. So I’m going to keep watch.”

It’s slightly awkward with him just standing there, but you did your best to lay the blueprint flat against the wall and start scribbling away. Still, you couldn't help but let your eyes flit to him, now with his back to you, standing guard.

“Where are you from?”

“Hmm?”

“Your accent, where’s it from?”

“Shouldn’t you be focusing on your work?”

“I could do this with both hands tied behind my back."

He made a doubtful noise.

You let a cheeky smile grace your lips, “Pen in my mouth, paper on the floor. Handwriting might be chicken scratch, but it’d still be legible.”

If you could see his face, you would’ve noticed his eyebrows raise as he tried to picture it. You on your knees, leaned forward with your ass in the air, hands bound, tongue twisted around the p—

“So, the accent? Where?”

“That’s classified.”

You tilted your head in thought, “It’s Northern, right? British, not Scottish. You don’t sound like Eileen.”

He bristled, quiet in a way that tells you you’re on the money.

“Look, how about this. For every question you answer truthfully, I’ll do the same. I won’t ask you anything I know you can’t tell me, not even your name. I just... wouldn’t mind a little conversation. They’re kinda in short supply here.”

A beat passed.

“Manchester.”

“I knew it!”

He made another noise. You think it was a laugh. You think it sounds beautiful.

“My turn. How do you know Vietnamese?”

“My mother. She immigrated from the South when she was young. Judging from some of his vocabulary, I’d guess your informant is from the North, but the dialects aren’t all that different, especially in script. What food do you miss the most?”

“Anything that isn’t an ORP.”

“An ORP?”

“Operational ration pack.”

If your hands were free, you would’ve crossed them.

“That’s a cop out.”

“Fine,” he relented. “I could go for a Nando’s takeaway.”

“What sort of food is that?”

“Chicken. Flame grilled with this Peri-Peri sauce and—”

He groaned. It’s a noise you want to hear again.

Mimicked him in commiseration. The plates the guards slid through your food slot were pitiful, to say the least.

He starts to ask you something but seems to stop himself.

“What?” you asked.

“It’s… I shouldn’t.”

You were many things, but you weren't a coward.

“I can always choose not to answer. Hit me.”

His voice was still hesitant as he asked, “What did you get arrested for?”

You were worried that the question would be gross or embarrassing, not utterly nonsensical.

“Arrested?”

“Jean said they found you because you were taken into custody.”

“Oh,” your cheeks flushed. “It wasn’t that type of custody. I was 5150-ed. Or more accurately 5250-ed.”

“Pardon?”

“I tried to kill myself. I failed.”

The man froze. He turned around, trying to get a glimpse of you—and any wounds—through the grate.

“Do you need medical attention?”

“No,” you reassured. “I stole some valium and then drank myself silly. I was found in time and they got me help before any irrevocable damage happened. If they hadn’t spotted the note they would’ve just written me off as some foolish party animal, pumped my stomach, and let me be on my merry way.”

You haphazardly glanced at him, expecting him to be stone cold. A proper soldier. To your surprise his eyes, those stupidly beautiful eyes, are trained on you with more care than you've seen in the last three months combined.

“Were you a user… before?”

You shake your head but your eyes remain locked. You couldn't bear to break contact.

“No. Too busy with school. But then my mom died and suddenly everything was… too much. Going to med school and becoming a doctor was what she wanted. The loans, the sleepless nights, the blood, sweat, and tears. It was all for her. Not me. I wanted to make her proud. Happy. And now that will never happen. Without her, I didn’t really see the point of continuing to put myself through hell. I tried to drop out, but the program wouldn’t let me. So I figured might as well cut out all stress in my life instead.”

“Are you planning to try again?”

“No,” the answer is honest. “I’m not giving these bastards the satisfaction. Plus I need to find whoever put me in this situation in the first place and give them a piece of my mind.” You turned back to the blueprints, gently trying to shift the tone back to the comfortable rapport you had earlier. You missed it and you need him to stop looking at you like that or you might do something stupid. “That was like three extra questions. It's my turn now. Any hobbies?”

“Hobbies?”

The very word sounded foreign on his tongue.

“You know. Do you have a secret passion for knitting or something?”

“Embroidery, actually. And that’s no secret.”

“So, anything you do outside of… espionage or whatever your job is?”

“I dunno. Football. Tattoos.”

“Giving or receiving?”

“The latter, though I have been curious to learn it.”

“Got a steady hand?”

He smiled, thinking about something you know he won’t tell you.

“You could say that.”

“Anything else?”

He paused for a moment. You can tell there’s something on his mind. He just hasn’t resolved whether you’re worth it to tell to.

“There’s a bare knuckle boxing club I like to go to when I’m on leave.”

You haven’t seen him in combat, but there’s something in the coiled posture of his stance that tells you he knows how to handle himself.

“I bet you kick their asses."

He says nothing, but you swear he almost preens.

"Could you teach me?"

His lips quirked.

"How serious are you being?"

"Pretty decently. They got me this time. I won't let that happen again. Not without a fight."

"If you're ever in Town, visit Stuart’s and ask for Simon. Might be able to give you a few pointers."

You look up at him, grinning.

"Simon, eh?"

He smiled. His gaze was still intense, but its stifling mixture of pity and worry was replaced by something warmer that made your chest flutter.

"Can't promise I'll be there, but the lady at the desk should be able to tell you when I'll be back."

You folded the blueprints, neatly passing them through the cell bars.

"Well, Simon. Here's your translation. Give them hell."

----------

Chaos. Complete and other chaos.

Smoke and bombs and bullets. You agonized over whether or not to look out the window. The unknown of what was happening was almost scarier than the reality. In the few furtive glances you spared, you caught the bodies. So many bodies. The only relief was that all of the dead seemed to be guards.

You thought back on Simon, dressed in the guard’s garb. These are probably his people. He must’ve gotten out and they must’ve gotten the intel. By now he’s probably on his next recon mission. You were able to learn a little about military structure from what the other hostages told you about their families. If his specialty was infiltration they probably weren't going to waste him on a direct assault like this.

Manchester. Stuart's. Simon.

You didn't need to see him before then. You just needed him to stay alive, wherever he was.

The cacophony slowly grew closer. You didn't know whether that was a good or bad thing.

A loud buzz rang out as the power grid malfunctioned and the hallway outside your cell was plunged into darkness.

Something was happening and all you could do was sit back and listen.

There were screams. Some seemed to be of pure joy, others of painful death. Many you couldn’t tell apart.

There were gunshots. Often followed by gurgles and the sickening sound of someone falling to the ground. There were footsteps. Heavy ones. Slowly drawing nearer.

Someone jostled the cell door. You froze, holding your breath. Maybe they wouldn't even notice you.

The darkness outside your cell moved. A single blue eye peered through the grate, surrounded by black.

"Stay back," the eye commanded. You were all too happy to oblige him.

There was a quick bang and the cell door swung open, revealing a man. A large man.

He bent down to enter the cell before standing up to his full height. Clad in black with a mask you'd expect on a cartoon executioner, he unfolded like an eldritch piece of origami. He just seemed to keep on going.

“Are you Elisabeth?” Hearing it again, you realized his voice was accented. Up close, his demeanor transformed. He seemed... nervous. Incredibly so, barely even able to get the words out.

“Yes,” your voice is almost as hesitant as his.

“I— I am— Ah—” his feet shuffled about anxiously. Any bravado he had from battle has melted away, leaving him almost curled against the wall. You catch sight of a patch on his left side. Red. White. Red. The Austrian flag.

“Sprechen Sie Deutsch?” ( Do you speak German? ) you asked. Maybe talking would be easier in his native language.

The man perked up, surprised but excited.

“Ja! Du auch?” ( Yes! Do you? )

You nod, “Mein Vater war Österreicher.” ( My father was Austrian. )

You knew this was a possibility. Even with the covered face and the giant height difference. Still, his next words caught you off guard.

“Ich weiß. Ich bin dein Halbbruder.” ( I know, I’m your half-brother. )

----------

The tall man, your brother, escorts you out. He promises to tell you everything and more once you’re away from this wretched place wo die Wände haben Ohren ( where the walls have ears ).

After being cooped up for so long, your legs protest the walk, but you pushed through. You were a free woman and you would never take that for granted again.

The exhaustion was worth it to step into the daylight with your own two feet.

Once your eyes adjusted, you realized that two portable camps had been set up on the perimeter. As predicted, there was no sign of Simon. You did see a couple familiar faces though, along with a plethora of heavily-armed strangers (including a man wearing a skeleton mask of all things!). Eileen was deep in conversation with a mohawk-ed man, but she threw you a warm smile as she spotted you heading to the other wolf-emblemed camp.

"Are you alright?" a voice called out at you. It was British: Northern, but rougher and gruffer than Simon's had ever been. Still, you allowed yourself to revel in the fantasy for a moment before you had to face the speaker and ruin the illusion.

You didn't know who you were expecting when you turned around, but it certainly wasn't the skull-masked man.

Up close he was even more striking. You could just barely make out his shaded eyes, alone in a void of black and white. He was shorter than your brother, but still tall by any measure. Even at that size he managed to sneak up on you two.

Your heart was racing. You didn't know why.

"Ye—yes," you managed to stammer out.

Your brother noticed your distress. It seems to give him a confidence to act that he couldn't summon for himself.

He wrapped a protective arm around you and began to lead you away.

“She’s with KorTac,” he said, like that explained everything.

During your confinement, you had plenty of time to think about what you would say to whoever got you into this mess by joining the military. You had dreams of really digging in and tearing them a new one. All of those dreams flew out the window now.

It wasn’t like you couldn’t or were afraid to antagonize someone as big as your brother. But, seeing him… you didn’t want to do that, or anything that could hurt him.

You wanted to talk to him. To get to know him. To—silly as it was—protect him.

After all, he was about the only family you had left.

[diaryofasentimentalist]

— i dial drunk // ex!leon

pairing: leon kennedy x reader

tags: angst, exes, drunk dial, very mild sexual content

summary: your ex calls you in the middle of the night to reminisce on the good times, but you'd rather not. (2.7k)

a/n: lots of jumping between the current phone call and their past memories so just mind the verb tense!

The ringing finds you in your dreams, a vexing trill that you can’t seem to find the source of no matter how long you search, that doesn’t stop no matter how long you wait it out. When it finally pulls you from your sleep, you reach over and silence the tone without so much as twitching an eyelid. The grating vibrations of your phone against the nightstand continue as the call finishes ringing out.

Another shrill tone startles you, shattering the silence as soon as you feel yourself drifting off again. Groggily, you pat around on the nightstand until you find your phone again and bring it to your ear, eyes barely cracking open enough to find the green 'accept' button.

“Hello?” you mumble into the receiver, eyes straining open. It’s pitch black. Nowhere near dawn. Good news never comes at this hour.

“God, I missed the sound of your voice.”

That voice you’d know anywhere snakes its way into your ear, straight down your throat and into your chest, where it settles around your heart, squeezing tightly. You’re wide awake now, burning eyes forcing their way open, pulse quickening as you lay still in bed, paralyzed.

“Leon,” you say hoarsely, your voice still thick with sleep.

Your name echoes back to you on a sigh, your chest constricting at the homesickness of it all.

“I told you not to call me anymore,” you say, measured and even in spite of the way it feels like you can’t breathe.

“I know, baby,” he says, words slightly slurred. “But I jus’ missed you… wanted to hear your voice again…”

“You’re drunk.”

It’s not a question or an accusation, just a statement. It’s in his voice, in the way he called you multiple times at such an hour. In the way he’s calling you baby again, telling you openly how much he misses you. Leon has too much good sense— or maybe just pride— to pester you when he’s sober. Even on the rare occasion when he’s run into you in public since the break up, he just watched you from afar, a strange expression on his face. Get enough alcohol in him, though, and he’s right back to the desperation of the day you first left.

“S’that obvious, huh?” he says with a low laugh. The sound triggers the thing that has settled in your chest to tighten once more, sends another stabbing pain straight to your heart as you stare up at the dark ceiling. “Sorry, baby. I know you hate it when I drink.”

“Hated,” you correct. It doesn’t matter. Even if he remembers this conversation when he’s sober, it won’t stop him from talking the same way next time he drunk dials. “I don’t care what you do anymore, Leon, so long as you leave me out of it.” You shift onto your other side, breaking through the strange paralysis that had overtaken you. The digital alarm clock on your nightstand is waiting to greet you. 2:23 AM. “But you can’t even do that. God, do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Nighttime?” he offers, sounding unbothered. “Did I wake you? We always used to stay up this late.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as an involuntary wave of memories floods through you. There were a lot of late nights when you were together. The lack of consistent sleep schedule never bothered you then. You were always just happy to be spending time with him in whatever way. Sometimes you’d be out on the balcony, lights off, clinging to one another as you talked on the wicker settee. Sometimes you’d watch late night tv, lying on the couch with him on top of you, nuzzling into your neck while you traced patterns into his back beneath his shirt. Sometimes you’d lie atop the mound of pillows on the bed, his head buried between your thighs as you gasped and sighed and moaned his name, fingers tangling in his hair.

“I have work tomorrow,” you say coldly, bidding the images to stop. “Goodbye, Leon.”

He cuts in before you can hang up, carrying on as though you hadn’t said anything at all. “Remember when you got that craving for muffins at midnight?”

Of course you do. You’d been having another late night with Leon, the tv droning on in the background while the two of you dozed on and off, when he’d finally suggested the two of you retire to bed. A commercial for some cereal came on just before the screen went black, and the second you saw the mock breakfast spread, that was it. You needed a muffin. Leon laughed off your suggestion at first. As soon as he realized how serious you were, though, he’d pulled you up and to the kitchen, and you’d gotten to work. His offers to help you culminated in him keeping a hand firmly planted on your waist at all times, watching you measure the ingredients out, and kissing the back of your head every so often. But you were at his apartment, and he wasn’t much of a baker, and so you’d only realized halfway through that he didn’t have all of the things you needed, no brown sugar or vanilla or even cinnamon.

Feeling defeated, you’d relented that you could just finish tomorrow. Wordlessly, Leon left the kitchen, returning a moment later with his keys jingling around his finger and tossing you a jacket. He took you to the nearest 24-hour supermarket, your hand never dropping his as you led him along the aisles, giggling. Even now, you recall the distinct domesticity of it all, how you’d felt so normal, like you could have a real life with him some day.

Leon kept a hand on your thigh the whole drive back, taking the long way home just to prolong the moment, and you were so glad you could watch the wind from the open windows rifle through his hair just a little longer, drink in the sight of the passing street lights flickering across his skin. When you finally got home, he was touchier than before as you finished your baking expedition. The moment the tray was in the oven you were upon him, legs wrapped around his waist as he hoisted you onto the counter, pulling you closer, always closer. You’d been so distracted that you’d let the muffins bake a little too long until the smell reminded you what you’d stayed up for. The edges had started to burn, the cinnamon crumble on top hardening just a bit too much, and you’d insisted that you could do better, but he assured you—

“Best damn muffins I’ve ever had,” Leon rambles on. “Been to a million bakeries, can’t find anything like them…”

Why is he telling you all this?

Why is he making you remember?

Now that the memory has started, you can’t stop it, the scenes rolling in your mind like a film. After indulging in the baked goods, he’d carried you to his room, house still smelling of cinnamon and vanilla. It must’ve been well past three by the time he was laying you back against the bed gently, but neither of you were tired. The earlier impatience in his movements had dissipated, and he took his time with you, his hands caressing your body while yours explored his with equal devotion—

“I miss how you felt in my hands,” he says suddenly, as though his thoughts have followed the same natural trajectory as yours.

You remember his hands on your hips, firm, secure, anchoring you to him. The way his calloused palms felt against your smooth skin. The way his touch dripped with reverence, like he was perpetually caught between the desire to treat you like something delicate and the desire to have more of you, that hungry conflict always reflected in his piercing blue eyes—

“I miss how you looked under me,” he continues.

You remember throwing your head back, how he’d dip in to kiss along the exposed column of your neck before littering affection across your face. How it would suddenly stop, sometimes, and when you’d look up at him expectantly, you’d find him gazing down at you in equal parts awe and adoration. The moment you reached up for him he’d come back down and—

“I miss how your lips fit against mine.”

“You’re so selfish,” you interject, unwilling to entertain this any longer, afraid of what might happen if you do. “Waking me up on a work night so you have someone to reminisce with?”

“I know, baby,” he says, a self-deprecating laugh tumbling through the phone, twisting your stomach. “I was a shit boyfriend and I’m a shittier ex.”

That’s not true. He was a wonderful boyfriend, except when he wasn’t. He was always affectionate with you, except when he wanted to be alone… always warm and patient with you, except when he would withdraw… always understanding and attentive, except when he’d drink… It’s just that the times he wasn’t there for you were so hard, and over time, they’d gotten more and more frequent. Nothing you did to try to reach him, to be there for him, to support him, ever seemed to get through to him. Eventually, it was all too much.

Yet anytime you hear his voice, it’s always the good that comes to mind. It overwhelms you, makes you question why you ever left. A single word from Leon makes you curse the day you walked away. Only when you’re alone, in silence, away from the inexplicable effect of his presence, can you truly remember how the lows felt. The isolation of it all, the pain, the waiting. The disappointment over and over and over again.

The rest of that night comes to you now, floating in through the open window with the August breeze. How strange to think that was a whole year ago. After making love, he’d held you for a time, and you were content there, as sweaty and warm as it was, but he’d carried you to the shower with him. It was mostly silent, save for the pitter-patter of the water against the tile. He lathered your hair for you, and you scrubbed his back, pressing kisses against his wet shoulders. By the time the two of you were toweled and dressed in fresh clothes, it was late— or early— enough that you’d decided to stay up and watch the sun rise. You’d snuggled closer to him out on the balcony, the early morning air chilling you slightly as your still wet hair dripped onto your shoulders. He’d pulled you in, his body a natural furnace, and wrapped you in his arms.

God, you’ve never felt that safe anywhere else.

“Yeah, you are.” The words are laced with forced venom, and it burns to speak them. “That’s why you shouldn’t call me anymore.”

“I know.” There’s a pause on the other end. “You should block me.”

His words shatter something inside you. “Shut up.”

“I mean it,” he drawls. “You could just block me. But you won’t.”

“Leon.”

“Because you still think about me, too, don’t you?”

“Seriously, shut up.”

“And if you blocked me,” he rambles on, “then you’d really never hear from me again.”

“Go fuck yourself, actually.”

Laughter filters in and out of earshot, like the receiver keeps drifting from his lips, but he doesn’t say anything else. The silence stretches on for one minute, two. A part of your conversation from that night on the balcony strikes you.

“Why not?” you’d asked him, tearing your gaze away from the brightening horizon to stare up at him, at the distant look in his blue eyes. Somehow, the subject of past relationships had come up. It wasn’t something either of you really cared about, but he’d just disclosed that he hadn’t really had a long term relationship with anyone before you. Most women left before things got serious, he’d said, and he never asked them to stay, to give it a real shot. He shrugged, using the motion to tug you closer.

“I can’t ask that of anyone. I don’t really deserve to. If someone wants to leave, I get it.” He glanced at you from the corner of his eyes, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “That means you, too, when you finally get sick of me one day.”

“Never,” you said, leaning up to plant a kiss on his cheek as he chuckled. A few strands of sandy hair tickled your nose. “You’re stuck with me, you know that?”

“Oh, darling, I know. I’m afraid I’ll be stuck with you long after you’re gone.”

The offhand remark didn’t make sense to you at the time, and when you asked him what he meant, he refused to elaborate, merely remarking on the emerging colors in the sky.

You get it now. And if you’d got it then, you would have been afraid, too.

Time moves on for everyone else, but not you two. Something happened when you stormed out of his apartment on that rainy night back in April, staining the fabric of time, marring your life with an inescapable loop. Just when you start to feel normal, you’re forced to relive the raw heartache all over again, as if it’s only been four days, not months, since you left. It happens every single time his name pops up on your caller ID. Every so often, when you think— with a surge of dread that you refuse to acknowledge— that he might finally have moved on, he calls again.

Never to ask you to come back, though. Never to ask you for another chance.

Just to reminisce.

Hot tears stream out of the corners of your eyes, landing on your pillow with muted plops. You make no effort to stop them or wipe them away, silent for fear that your voice will betray you if you try to speak now. You hate it, but even crying in bed like this makes you think of him, the feeling of his chest against your back, his silent strength when he’d comfort you during moments of weakness.

“Leon?” you call, wondering if he finally passed out. Hoping that if he did, he’s at least in bed, or on the couch, or somewhere safe. Warm. Not huddled outside of some seedy bar, or hunched over the filthy curb.

“I may be selfish, sweetheart” he says finally, his voice husky, “but you’re just cruel.” You can only blink up at the ceiling, tears momentarily stayed as you wrack your brain for what he’s responding to. “You answer my calls just to tell me how much you don’t want them.”

If the fight weren’t draining out of you, you might snap back at him that he doesn’t have to call in the first place, that he should take a hint, that he should delete your number altogether. Instead, all you can do is let his words hang there while you contemplate them.

Maybe it is cruel. When he calls you like this, asking if you remember, he’s asking something more. Questions he could never verbalize, but that remain implicit in what he says. Do all those little moments mean as much to you as they do to me? Do the memories haunt you like they haunt me? Do you miss it like I do?

Leon won’t ask you to come back, no. But he wants to know if you’ve ever considered it on your own.

“Goodnight, Leon,” you say suddenly, forcing the words past the painful lump in your throat. You can't keep doing this, can't keep letting him tear you down just because he's found himself at the bottom of another bottle. “I hope you learn how to take better care of yourself one day.”

“I hope you find someone better to take care of one day.” At first, you think he’s just scrambled up your words in his drunken stupor in an effort to throw them back at you. But then he speaks again, and you know he meant exactly what he said. “Hey, I’m glad you left. Happy for you, I mean. You deserve better than me." Something terrible is building up in your chest, threatening to climb up your throat if he doesn't stop. "I love—”

You hang up before he can hear the way your breath shudders.

[renaerys]

I’m once again asking y’all to learn proper verb conjugation ffs. Lead is a present tense verb, such as in the idiom “you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make it drink.”

The past tense of lead is led. “You led that horse to water yesterday, and now his diva ass is thirsty because he refused to drink when he had the chance.”

I don’t know why so many native English speakers consistently get this wrong. Nothing makes me judge you worse or click out of your writing faster than this type of idiotic mistake. You look stupid, this is a stupid mistake. Stop it.

[madamspellmans-met-tet]

yes maybe any rules you follow while writing or what you think is important? would really help and I bet there's lots of ppl who wanna know

ok so I’ve put together a few but these are just my opinions. I’m not a fan of writing rules, so keep in mind that these are just my personal guidelines that I’ve learned over years and that always have exceptions. The most important thing is to have fun and to develop a feeling for what works and that’s something you only get through experience. My first fanfiction was crap but I had a blast writing it anyway. Hope this helps, lmk if you have questions 💕

Beginner:

Formatting. This is about reading economy for the reader. get rid of empty lines (there’s shortcuts in word for that). Use paragraphs (there’s info online when to start a new one). Use quotation marks (“” or »«, don’t get fancy). Punctuation (em vs en dash, comma goes before the quotation mark etc.). No caps lock. Use bold or italic for emphasis.

Consistency. choose whatever narrator you prefer, the tense to write in and the pov—stick to it throughout. See also: “head hopping”

Grammar & spelling. Doesn’t have to be perfect but just using a simple spell checker helps get rid of major issues.

Advanced:

in medias res. start as late as possible in the scene and leave at the earliest point. skip the simple stuff like waking up or falling asleep unless you have a reason to. This keeps the tension up.

always say less than necessary. give as little info in dialogue as possible. Usually I’ll write what I want the character to say and then go over it again and cut it to the bare minimum. People never say what they actually mean. I aim for not more than 2-3 sentences per direct speech section.

Avoid info dumping. Don’t have a character tell you their backstory. Show how it affects them today and drop subtle hints at it. Use environmental storytelling. When describing environment, sprinkle details throughout instead of putting them in a paragraph and try to always relate them to the character. Like what do they think of the carpet? Do they have a memory attached to it? Maybe the forest seems dark and lost to them because they have been kidnapped and feel lost. Stuff like that.

Rule of 3. This is for foreshadowing etc. once you mention something 3 times for some reason it gives the reader a sense of consistency and “roundness”. Referencing something that happened earlier in the story also helps make the world feel more real.

Avoid head hopping. Don’t switch from one character’s pov to the other’s in the same paragraph. Better even avoid it in the same scene or chapter. It’s hard to follow.

Overused phrases. “She released a breath she didn’t know she was holding” and more (you’ll find lists of that online).

Very niche:

Remove the filter. Whenever you’re tempted to write words like “saw”, “felt”, “heard” or other words pertaining to senses, see if you can rephrase the sentence. Just describe the thing directly. Ex: instead of writing “I looked at the clock.” write -> “The old fashioned clock on the wall showed it was already past lunch time.”

Said is not dead. Don’t overdo it with the dialogue tags. Said is a word that the reader skips over and doesn’t notice. It focuses the attention on the story rather than the writing, so no need to show off your vocab. Again, this is a case of do everything in measures. It’s not forbidden to use other dialogue tags on occasion—dosage is key!

Dosing adverbs (words ending in -ly). Same thing. Whenever I use an adverb in my writing followed by a verb, I try to think about whether there is a stronger verb to use so I won’t need the adverb. But sometimes it’s perfectly okay to use it. Like when you try to show a contrast. “She smiled happily” is redundant because a smile usually indicates happiness and you could use “she beamed” instead. But if you write “she smiled sadly” it’s an oxymoron and therefore a strong use of an adverb.

Metaphors/purple prose. Good and necessary but don’t overdo it. Rule of thumb for me is: use metaphors and similes etc to describe sensory input but keep it simple when describing actions. No need to write “she removed her elusive presence from the limited space of existence surrounding us.” Instead of “she left the room.”

A good scene for me ends in a different place (emotionally or/and physically) than it began.

Character voice. study the way a character speaks and try to mirror that in your writing. What kind of vocab do they use? Where are they from? Do they swear? What terms of endearment do they use? Do they speak more formal or informal or even slang? Where do they come from?

My favourite story structure: chiastic or reversed chiastic. Not gonna explain it here, if you’re interested you can look it up. This is just a personal favourite.