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see-arcane · 2 years

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A Gothic Tale of Two Weird Old Men: Dracula, Van Helsing, Ignorance and Obedience

So, we’ve gotten to the garlic flowers. And the first point in the novel where, on my first read, I felt a tiny prickle of recognition and unease. This section in particular made a little exclamation point pop up over my head:

"Oh, Professor, I believe you are only putting up a joke on me. Why, these flowers are only common garlic."

To my surprise, Van Helsing rose up and said with all his sternness, his iron jaw set and his bushy eyebrows meeting:—

"No trifling with me! I never jest! There is grim purpose in all I do; and I warn you that you do not thwart me. Take care, for the sake of others if not for your own." Then seeing poor Lucy scared, as she might well be, he went on more gently: "Oh, little miss, my dear, do not fear me. I only do for your good; but there is much virtue to you in those so common flowers. See, I place them myself in your room. I make myself the wreath that you are to wear. But hush! no telling to others that make so inquisitive questions. We must obey, and silence is a part of obedience; and obedience is to bring you strong and well into loving arms that wait for you.”

Now, full stop, Abraham Van Helsing means well. He’s a heroic old dude driven by goodwill—and, we can assume later, perhaps a bit of personal history with this particular malady. We’re going to see in later chapters that he is absolutely down to fight for far more than just Lucy and his protégé’s sake. Better still, he provides a great foil against the common themes that so far endanger characters who get in Dracula’s path. Skeptics are endangered because they only acknowledge the truth of the bogeyman in their midst when it’s too late while the frightened believers are too paralyzed by the threat to make a move. Van Helsing combines the Scientific with the Mystic, acknowledges both as equally important, and uses them to his advantage.

Knowledge is power and all that. Dracula really does get away with most of the shit he does half the time because his victims don’t know what they’re dealing with. (The other half of the time, it’s because he’s just bulldozing through victims on a spree, RIP Demeter crew.)

The Count is usually the one holding all the cards and using his advantages to cause harm. Van Helsing brings his own intel and uses it to help to the best of his ability.

That being said?

(Mild spoilers below)

The first time I read through Dracula—and, honestly, every time since—I can’t help picking up on how precariously close Van Helsing treads to the Count’s M.O. of manipulation and Dramatic Withholding of Information with his young charges. Granted, I can let some of it slide via the, ‘But no one would believe me if I said it was a vampire! I had to keep quiet about my reasons!’ excuse.*

*(But, sir, could you not conjure up some convincing medical-sounding bullshit?? It’s the 1890s, they would have bought anything. In fact, why was it only down to you and Jack keeping watch, Dr. Drama? There’s a whole house staff here. Yes, fine, there’s Mom with her weakheartitis, but as long as you spin it as some minor irritation that needs checking in on for updates, it should be fine. And why does Lucy have to keep quiet about the flowers? Why can’t she say it’s for her sleep? Or her health? Or a good luck charm from the doctor, it would be Terribly Rude to Be Rid of Them (read: Against every Victorian bone in hers and Mama Westenra’s body to chuck them). Anyway.)

Without giving too much away, I feel Stoker kind of tips Van Helsing’s charisma points a little too far over the edge in future scenes. Mixed up in a shitton of future The Power of Christ Compels You! overtones, there is a lot of frankly bonkers acting from the rest of the cast when it comes to interactions with/gratitude to Van Helsing for [REDACTED] reasons.

As in, characters are going to start kissing the ground this old man walks on. (metaphoric)

And kissing his hands. (Literal. Yes, Godfather style.)

Dracula was lucky to get flipped off by his Brides. Van Helsing will have these youths rally around him and Every Syllable He Breathes as if it were actual factual gospel (which some is, naturally). With a notable exception in a very livid Jonathan Harker when we get to [REDACTED]. Shout out once more to Bram Flakes for accidentally making this solicitor man Spicy+ after certain events.

Most of me wants to believe Van Helsing’s effect on the others is just Bramarama Stoker pouring all his personal fantasies of being the Lauded and Heroic Professor Doctorman (who happens to share his name, no big deal, ha ha) into this character while the others sing his praises.

But the lit critic in me sees an uncomfortable amount of parallels between Dracula’s casual arcane actions, gaslighting and coercing with Jonathan and Van Helsing’s likewise casual mysterious measures, corralling, directing, and borderline mesmerizing the rest of the cast to follow his lead exclusively, with or without offering the full details of the situation, as we see with Lucy. He’s a good man and an interesting character, but there are Some Scenes that make me wonder if he isn’t using some kind of lowkey hypnotism to make things run a little smoother in the vampire hunter brigade.

#I know I know he was genuine about trying to help #but like...#...the wording and the way he backpedals kind of Does Not sit well with me; even knowing he's a good guy #if we transplanted the dialogue to the start of the novel and it was Dracula trying to get Jonathan to do something For His Own Good #like say: writing a bunch of false letters ~for convenience/safety's sake~#it'd be a little more gut-churning #plus there's the framework of Lucy trying to be a Good Friend/Patient/Obedient Victorian Girl being overseen by two male doctors #(who are good guys! who are taking her seriously! but stilll...)#and she's being told to Do This Thing for Reasons; Reasons Van Helsing does not explain (or even give a plausible lie for)#followed by telling her not to talk about it??#how would you react if your doctor gave you some mystery medicine/folk remedy #didn't tell you what it was really for (after you called bullshit about the first reason he made up for it (because you're not an idiot))#and then ordered you to use it and Not Tell Anyone About Why You Have It #fun and kooky doctor or not I'd be a little fucking worried #anyway #ramble #abraham van helsing #lucy westenra #dracula #dracula daily

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puhpandas · 6 months

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going on my ao3 and seeing 29 fnaf works and 1 pokemon fic I posted last year is so 😭

#ive always wanted to write for gravity falls or paranorman/mystery kids but its so intimidating #because i hold it so high on a pedestal and i wouldn't want to mess it up and characterize anybody wrong #even though i know i would have a blast writing the vibes of both and matching their dialogue to their actual selves lol #thats one thing about fnaf #is that theres no canon to try to match #like theres no humor you can try to match or dialogue you can try to make feel like the characters so much you can hear it in their voice #or setting and atmosphere you can describe l #its pure fanon #but its fine to me because especially with flashlight duo i like coming up with my own of that stuff to put in #i want to actually try to focus on that next flashlight duo oneshot #put more into the vibe and feeling of the world theyre in #and make it distinct #its probably just because its me and im the one who wrote it and people who arent me who read my series #probably definitely have something in mind #but i think i could focus on it more #this is me wanting to use the enviroment again in my writing like i did in rabbit burrow lol #it was fun ok #pandas.txt #pandas talks #my fics

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mariocki · 8 months

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John Levene pops up as Gene Bradley's co-pilot on his private jet, called Tony, (John Levene's character, not the jet) in The Adventurer: I'll Get There Sometime (1.15, ITC, 1973)

#fave spotting #john levene #sergeant benton #doctor who #classic doctor who #the adventurer #I'll get there sometime #1973 #itc #classic tv #Gene's private jet crops up a couple of times in the series‚ yet another example of how he's the greatest everything that ever did anything #it had a copilot in the other eps but not played by John; this ep requires a few lines from the copilot so perhaps that other actor wasn't #considered good enough at reading dialogue? who knows. certainly not me (and Pixley don't write a bible about this stupid show‚ your work #is needed on better things!). little for John to do here except sit in a cockpit and trade worried glances with Gene about bad weather and #plane problems; this was a holiday episode for Gene Barry‚ with just these few token scenes to include him (presumably coming as a blessed #relief to the crew who‚ by most accounts‚ couldn't stand him). it also allowed Catherine Schell (who Barry had had fired) to quickly return #and shoot enough scenes for a couple more episodes; despite Gene B's meddlings‚ the American backers liked her and wanted more of the #character. so we get this episode in which Gene is waylaid in his plane for the whole ep and it's up to his helpers (Schell‚ Garrick Hagon #as the longest lasting Stuart Damon replacement‚ and Barry Morse's Mr Parminter) to do all the adventuring and save the day without Mr #Amazing. Parminter is a curious character; he starts the series as a sort of semi mysterious spy master who calls on Gene for favours and #often knows more than he's telling. abruptly his character shifts completely about half way thru the series and becomes a buffoonish #ministry type who stumbles through cases and fights and has to be shepherded by his long suffering subordinates Hagon and Schell #it's most dramatic here‚ where he's positively idiotic. you'd be tempted to think Morse was simply giving up or playing with the part now #the series was well underway (and Gene wasn't around to shout) but in interviews he actually complained about how the character was #lobotomised by the scripts‚ so this isn't coming from him. who knows? maybe the writers themselves were trying to tank the show #certainly nobody seems to have had a very good time making it (Gene B flatly refused to be interviewed by network for their dvd release..)

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nemesis-is-my-middle-name · 4 months

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we need more vivi hurt/comfort in this fandom. #25 prompt (“I’m going to ask you how you are and I would like you to answer me honestly.”) from Artie to Vi if you're up for it? 💛🩵

(hurt/comfort dialogue prompts)

(oof god i'm rusty with these characters. let's get into it)

"I'm fine," she says, for what feels like the millionth time.

"Bullshit," is Arthur's response. "I'm down an arm, Vi, not my fucking eyes. And ho- honestly, I wouldn't- wouldn't even need th-those to tell right now." A hand lands on her shoulder, pushing her down further into the chair for emphasis. "One more try. I'm gonna ask you how you are, and it'd be nice if you c-could answer me honestly."

She shoves him off and stands up, already stalking away, ignoring the shooting pain all up through her side when she does. "God, fuck you. Fuck off. This is so stupid. I don't need,"

And then her vision whites out.

---

She blinks herself fuzzily awake into a world much softer than the one she was just in. She's in bed, she registers, or at least a pile of blankets. The pain is gone, but it also feels like everything else isn't quite online, either. There's a vague clicking noise from somewhere to her right.

"...you hovering all the time," she finishes her thought, although it comes out too mumbly to really deliver.

"j'you say sa- s-something?" The clicking noise stops, and an Arthur appears in her field of view. He looks worried. So, like normal.

"Yeah, uh, what? Why am I in bed?"

Now he just looks exasperated, throwing his hand up in annoyance, which is an improvement at least. "You passed out, stupid! And th-th-then when I freak out, out about it you're all like oh no never mind it's whatever fr- from the fucking floor. 'Why am I in bed.' Dumbass."

She only vaguely remembers that, not that she's going to admit it. Well, okay, question answered. She tries to get up, and Arthur immediately shoves her back into the pillow.

"Hey," she protests.

He makes his usual staccato ch-ch-ch disapproval noise, which she usually thinks is cute when it isn't directed at her. "Nope. I j-just got done bandaging you up, you are not getting up. You, you are st-staying right here."

She tries to wrestle him off, but he's annoyingly persistent and her angle's all off. "Okay, I'm patched up! So it's fine! Let me out!"

Whup, and her hand is flat against the bed, and Arthur's hanging out of his chair to get his arm over her chest and pin her down. "No."

Probably she could flip him. Maybe. He'd hit the wall behind her but not, like, hard. She thinks about it. It's really hard to lift even the non-pinned arm. Maybe she couldn't.

"Stop being stupid," she tells him instead, sounding normal and not at all desperate. "This is nothing."

"It is- v-very much- not nothing."

"This can't be enough to stop me. It isn't! I'm better than this!"

"Get up, th-then!" he challenges.

"I'm not a fucking tranq'd animal!"

He yells wordlessly at her, she shouts back, until they're both panting.

She shoves him again, no real force behind it this time. This is such a waste of fucking time, when he damn well knows they never have enough of it. "I need to get up. You need me out there, you know that."

"Go to hell."

Now tears are welling in her eyes. She's screaming at herself, internally, but for some stupid reason it's not translating into more strength. "We're wasting time, here. I'm ready to go, I can move, I can work. Let me up."

He flops over, into a less aggressive pin, but not actually a less effective one. Their faces are almost touching, which was maybe the idea. "One more try," he says, again.

His damn stubbornness is another thing that she likes more when it isn't being used on her. This is not a fight she is going to win.

"If I fall asleep," she says reluctantly, "and you're not there when I wake up, I'm going to fucking kill you."

That gets a laugh out of him. "M'not going anywhere, Vi."

#the nemesis speaks #the nemesis answers #answrs #swift writes #ask game #mystery skulls animated #oops. i'm using that tag i guess #uh. is this how i normally characterize these guys? i don't remember. this is how i write them now anyway!#lewis is their balancing force that keeps less than 50% of their dialogue from being variations on ''fuck you''#which is also very fun coming from pla where everyone is sooo polite and formal all the time. and these two are. Not That.#uh. other commentary on this. i actually don't know where this is set #it could be just a swap scenario where vivi's the one with the memories but idk. i feel like it's somethin else. smthn less canon adjacent #ALSO vivi and arthur are both such like. ''please let me die for you'' level devoted to their friends. tho they express it v differently #and vivi's like. she's gotta be the strongest and bravest and most powerful because if ANYTHING HURTS THEM SHE WILL FULLY SNAP #...and then obviously implicitly here Something Happened to lewis. which exacerbated the problem #meanwhile arthur is like. no fighting. it's not the time for fighting now is the time to sit down and let me fix you. tell me what you need #-and i'll fucking rearrange reality to get it.#and then they scream at each other about it! normal friends who are normal.

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redwayfarers · 4 months

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'ajde bar noćas budi mi drug

Fandom: FFXIV Ship: Nika/Hilda Characters: Nika Perseis (WoL), Hilda Ware Rating: Gen Words: 1457 Spoilers: minor spoilers for MCH level 70 questline Title taken from Skačem, skači which has been on Nika's playlist before any other song. Slavic mutuals, this one's for you <3 read on ao3 dividers by @saradika

There’s something about Hilda. Nika’s known it for a while now - he likes so few people, and she’s never given him cause to ditch their budding friendship; besides, she makes a wonderful drinking buddy. And a mean card player. He knows this from observation. He doesn’t dare sit before her, cards in hand, and have to give up what little dignity he has. That was for Limsa, and for a simpler time. Instead, he prefers to just sit at the same table, watch the game and shout a hearty, “Better luck next time!” to the loser.

When she gives him a dirty look, however, he stops. This whole concept of.. Caring about others’ opinions feels oddly familiar and oddly new at the same time. He doesn’t play cards against her because he doesn’t want people laughing at him, fair enough. He can admit, albeit wordlessly, that she’s better than him. But the way the disapproval in her eyes cuts him is new. This isn’t a reputation thing - he wants Hilda’s opinion of him to be good, what a weird fucking thing to want, so he stops doing the shit she finds offensive.

Yeah, that shit’s weird. Luckily for him, though, life takes him away from the Brume often so he doesn’t have to question it. What little he is there, overseeing the Hounds’ machinist training when Rostnsthal goes to take a breather, he feels much better. They’re on his ground, his playing field. It’s his approval that matters.

Hilda’s good, though. The Hounds need some refinement, but Hilda - Hilda’s good. Hilda has no need for his opinion. Instead, he can say, “Do it like she does.” And not only is her aim really fucking good, she’s also beautiful. And he wants to be in her good graces.

As Ishgardians say, Fury take her.

And so it happens that Rostnsthal is away, Nika’s overseeing the training for the week, and Hilda’s the one currently taking the aim. She’s tied her hair back in a messy bun, she’s dressed in another black jacket which contrasts sharply with the paleness of her skin, and her grip on the gun is stable, solid, and unshaking. She tilts her head slightly as she adjusts, giving Nika a nice view of her neck.

The sound of a shot going off brings him back to reality.

“How was that, Mr. Sharpshooter?” Hilda laughs. “You were paying such attention.”

“Do you want me to open a dictionary and find synonyms for 'good’?” Nika shakes his head. “I don’t think you really need my opinion.”

“I do. You’re the big, bad Warrior of Light, and me, I’m a mongrel from the Brume. If ya put in a good word for me with your blue-blooded friends, I’d be the next Archbishop.”

“You’re grossly overestimating my influence. Or maybe my liking of them.” Nika makes a face. “I wanna shoot half of them in the face. Member of the Heavensward, off you go. Annoying asshole, off you go. That’s a solid chunk of Ishgard’s nobility.”

Not Artoirel, though. Emmanellain, too. Stephanivien, as well. Aymeric. The thought of putting a gun to Artoirel’s head makes him sick. He knows he’ll take it bravely, but he also knows Stephanivien and Aymeric would hunt him down for it.

It’s not only Hilda’s good opinion that he cares about, after all.

Nika kicks the snow under his feet.

“I agree,” Hilda says. “But it doesn’t change the fact you were staring at me.”

“Fine– I think you’re not only good at aiming, but also good-looking. Is it a crime in the Brume to be attracted to people?” Nika taps a nail against the trigger of his firearm.

“Not at all.” Hilda smiles. She walks over, the end of her weapon clinks against the metal of her tall boots, and she looks up at him. Her lips are full and red from the cold and her eyes shine in amusement and pleasure. “Join me for mulled wine later? Maybe a card game, if your pride lets you?”

Nika huffs. “It’s not about pride, woman– but yes. I will join you for mulled wine. It’s stupidly cold in Ishgard.”

Hilda places a hand on his forearm. “I’ll make sure it’s all warm for you, Nika.”

Well, it looks like Nika’s in for a good night. It’s not Artoirel - it will never be Minfilia - but it’s as good as he’s going to get. He likes mulled wine, anyway.

***

The bed is warm, soft and lived in. Well, fucked in. Nika doesn’t have the habit of sleeping in other people’s beds unless he stays the night with them, which doesn’t have to mean anything. It’s a harmless action - extending your stay in someone’s life for a fraction of a moment, just to fall down the long mountain of oblivion. Normally, it would make his chest ache. When it comes to sex, however, that’s the price he’s willing to pay for some extra skin-to-skin contact.

Hilda’s sitting on the edge of the bed, as naked as he is. He’s watching the muscles of her back move as she re-ties her hair. The room is simple, gray, a room of an ouvrière, much like the apartment he grew up in. Later came the paintings and the vases and the flower pots; he recalls how happy it made his mother when Lucretia showed up on their door with a huge bouquet of flowers in her hands, with how much care she’d put them in a vase, how sweetly she’d kiss her and whisper a word of gratitude. Nika thought it was all weird at the time. He was just a kid. An asshole kid, sure, one who frowned deeply at the soft kisses, but a kid nonetheless.

Unfortunately, asshole kids grow up into asshole adults. But sometimes, it’d be nice if– Nika’s not a flowers type of person, but surely, it’d be nice if someone gave him a big, feathered hat? Surely, it’d be nice if anyone ever liked him back enough to do that for him?

Not Hilda, though. He isn’t expecting her to. They were both looking for a momentary distraction and fun, and that’s what they got. Orgasms are a neat little thing too. Nika likes them, and so does Hilda.

Yet, when she buries her fingers in his hair and massages his scalp, all thoughts somehow scatter. Nika slithers over to be closer, and Hilda just continues to softly thug on the strands. He gives a little sigh of contentment. Then, out of fucking nowhere, her hand disappears.

“Why’d you stop?” he asks, before he’s fully aware of what he’s saying. And how he’s saying it. He sounds so stupidly needy, like a spoiled little fuckwit, and he buries his fingers in the pillow out of embarrassment.

“I’m coming back,” she says. “I was just thirsty. Why’d you get so worked up about it?”

Nika purses his lips. “None of your business.”

“I promise you, I didn’t just invite you here to have my fun and kick you out–”

“That would’ve been more merciful,” Nika replies. His chest feels tight, his body too big and uncomfortable. Yet his skin tingles sorrowfully.

“What? You want to be simply used and kicked out like some annoying asshole’s servant? Am I reading ya correctly, Nika?” Hilda’s now staring at him in confusion, and he curls even more on the bed. “In what world is that merciful?”

Nika doesn’t reply. He doesn’t know what to say. He was never this desperate before. It feels like a curse, and it makes him want to crawl out of his skin. And he would’ve been fine if he just didn’t say it like that, like he’s so deprived he’s about to beg for–

“Hilda,” he says, trying to rein in the storm in his throat. “Don’t ask me that question. Now if you’d be so kind as to kick me out, butt ass naked–”

She pushes him so that he’s sprawled on the bed, and lays down on him without a word. The room’s warm, her skin’s warm, but he doesn’t mind it. He really doesn’t. It even feels good - his hands wrap around her and it feels offensively nice. It fights against the urge to walk away and wins, even.

“I thought you were thirsty?” Nika croaks, and falls further into a pool of shame.

“I can wait for a few more minutes. ‘Sides, who said I’m done with you?”

Nika blinks. “If you want me to do something–”

“Just lay there, be a personal heater and look pretty. Right now, that’s all I ask of ya.”

Nika sighs. “If you say so,” he murmurs.

It looks like he’s in for a long, and much to his own chagrin, good night.

#ffxiv #inspo birb has come to town #ffxiv fic #ffxiv writing #nika perseis #hilda ware #wol #ffxiv wol #ffxiv oc #warrior of light #yeah no. no. 1 sorry if i'm writing hilda wrong her dialogue is a mystery to me #not as big as uri but uhh close enough #here's an attempt tho #nika and hilda are such a disaster pair that i'm so happy for ishgard are just friends & fuck buddies #i love them both severely tho #also to anyone who's been here for a while ty for sticking around #i wanted to do an end of the year fic wrap but this needed out so

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4plus1313 · 8 months

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A good day for art despite not being on shrooms this time

#but a terrible week for writing #which makes sense since...ive never written before #funnily enough dialogue of characters is the hardest part to me #i guess it's a bit like acting?#it would help to feed my brain with words and read something myself but i have no idea what #id really like a mystery novel of sorts but i dont know anything about books and authors in general #i really am ohba in that interview huh #anyway super duper accepting reccs please ??#writing tag #i forgot what my original writing tag was lol its been a while

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obstinaterixatrix · 1 year

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the thing about story mediums is that I don’t consider myself having ‘control’ per se over the best medium for a story. if it comes out better in writing that’s how it’s meant to be, if it comes out better in visuals that’s how it’s meant to be. sometimes there’s overlap like drawing comics or writing scenes but there’s A Reason it ends up one way or another. that’s just how the story comes out.

#writing ramble #like night flowers had to be a novella #there was one person who was like ‘this would be great as a comic!!! you could totally do it!!!!’#and like. I appreciate the energy but it’s not meant to be a comic.#if it was meant to be a comic it would’ve been a comic.#and I don’t even mean in the *~mysterious whims of the craft~* way #1) ljh is a character who is reserved in dialogue and expression #so having prose is helpful for adding to her character through over the shoulder 3rd person pov #what she noticed and where her internal logic takes her #2) this provided a strong contrast to xj’s internal narration #3) the framing device of the prologue and the epilogue (implied to be yp) is stronger through prose rather than visials #the only alternate medium I would accept for night flowers. is a musical.#I am being entirely serious.#and I have specific reasons for that too.#anyway this is partially because someone left a tag about how they’d read a novel of ol isekai which I know is intended as a compliment #but like night flowers. it is what the way it is because the story is more effective in a visual format #(despite me not being. A Polished Manga Artist)#meihui is somewhat similar to ljh because they’re both more reserved #but because of their different characters and different situations meihui’s internal narration is easier to write as a monologue #and someone could argue that could work with first person light novel style writing #but the balance between writing the scene and meihui’s monologue would be way off #comedic beats too. night flowers has comedic beats that work well in prose. ol isekai has comedic beats that work well visually.#basically: IT’S LIKE THAT FOR A REASON!!!!!!#the only alternative I’d accept would be a visual novel #and like. if I was someone else I might be able to write it in a different medium in a satisfactory way #for anyone who might be going like ‘well I can think of how it’d work as a comic/a novel instead’#I’M NOT YOU!!!#DIFFERENT PEOPLE WILL TELL DIFFERENT STORIES!!!!#WRITE IT YOURSELF THEN!!!!!! ACCEPT MY PROCESS OR LEAVE ME ALONE #legit I’d prefer it if it did work better as a novel because I’m more comfortable writing than drawing

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depreshroom · 1 year

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Hey!! I had some dialogue bouncing in my head for a Rayllum s4 (the dragon prince) harsher fight scene, so I sort of just scribbled it out. This occurs when they find out that Soren hadn’t come back. Anything that doesn’t sound like canon has been shamelessly ignored for my idea, my apologies. It’s not fully fleshed and mostly dialogue focus but here it is :))

“A desperate silence hangs between them. Desperate for understanding, for each other. “I’m sorry Callum, okay? I didn’t know.”

Callum scoffs, smirking sarcastically. “You didn’t know?”

Rayla stares into his eyes. Is he serious right now? She furrows her eyebrows. “No, Callum. I didn’t know the Crown Guard wouldn’t be able to find his way through a bit of greenery.”

“It was dark out, Rayla!”

“He had a lamp!” Rayla lifts her arms defensively and it only takes a single look at Callum’s face to know she’d hit a minefield. In an attempt to pull this mess together, she starts, “I messed up, Callum, I’m-“

But he finishes. “What, Rayla? What, you’re sorry? You didn’t know what you know now? You’re going to fix it?” He adds the last bit in air quotes, turning around and pacing as his voice gets angrier. “Here’s the thing with you Rayla: you don’t know anything. But instead of waiting and learning and observing and paying attention to anything other than your own opinions—“

“‘Anything other than my own opinions’, are you kidding—“

—the great non-assassin just has to act instead!” And Callum is furious, and he’s more alive than she’s seen since two years ago. Maybe even since she’s known him. “You couldn’t even kill Viren if you saw him, Rayla.” His chest heaves back and forth, and he’s only a few feet away. “You left just to what? Get a sighting?”

Quietly, Rayla strides towards Callum and closes the gap. He softens a bit—-no less angry, but a little more hurt. She begins to open her mouth, yet becomes cut off again.

“And you know what, Rayla?” he asks, voice raspy.

She doesn’t want to take this. He has no idea. He has no idea why she does what she does, he didn’t bother to remember the full picture. Only the successful parts. The ones where everybody makes it out alive. She hates the fact that she’s about to be silent; about to let him finish off stabbing her with a knife of anger and pain. But the smallest voice inside her says to listen. Don’t be what he insists she is.

Gritting her teeth, she inhaled deeply as she asks, “What, Callum?”

“For all the so-called ‘protecting’ you did-“ He uses air quotes during protecting, as if he wasn’t standing here right now with two working legs. “I got hurt, anyways.”

Rayla chuckles dryly, hot air covering Callum’s face. “Nice speech, Callum. You know, I’m really glad you were able to say it. Unlike oh…what’s his name?” She snaps, mimicking effort to think of her fallen father. Of the endless, imaginative scenarios where he suffers mercilessly in each one. Of Ezran’s dad and Callum’s basically-dad. Who she indirectly killed by not acting fast enough. She tilts her head downward, returning Callum’s glare. “Oh, I know!” she says with faux enthusiasm. “Unlike Runaan. Or your dad. Or anyone who died because I waited, Callum. You know, me and all my great non-assassinating”

A lump forms in his throat, his eyes displaying a sudden unreadable pain. Taking a few steps back, he begins to speak. Though now it’s he who remains unheard as Rayla cuts him off.

“You’ve spent all this time being mad at me, Callum.” Her voice softens as she blinks back a few unexpected tears. “But I’d be—I am, ecstatic to have a choice between you being angry or alive. Everyday, I’d choose saving you over saving us.”

They stare at each other from a distance. Tears run down her face. Silence hangs between them.

Silence is all they have left to say.

#im in a bit of a grey area with tdp atm #but I still rlly like writing abt the whole rayllum situation is both fun and helping me improve dialogue #also I just wanted to write a fight scene #this isn’t made to waiver to either side but to express both sides #and look into their reasoning #the dragon prince #rayla tdp #rayllum #rayllum s4 #the dragon prince season 4 #callum tdp #tdp #me omw to ignore my other fic for this one #im coming back to owl house murder mystery tho #shroom writes

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dragongeek1 · 1 year

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Started listening to the podcast TANIS and thoroughly enjoying it, went to see if there’s a tumblr tag presence and although it appears to be a small fandom I’m glad we all seem to agree on a few things:

the writing is a lil heavy handed, esp in dialogue, and not always that great (but we enjoy it anyway)

hell yeah dark mystery vibes dark mystery vibes dark mystery vibes

Geoff van Sant wants to fuck (and Nic is COMPLETELY OBLIVIOUS)

#nic for supposedly being a good detective you’re kind of a moron #not just in the geoff flirting respect but in a lot of ways tbqh #just finished ep 110 and in this one episode alone we have at least three completely moronic things he does #i get it it’s supposed to be ‘real’ so the characters make mistakes but DONT TAKE A CUPPA FROM THE CULT YOU KNOW IS DRUGGING PEOPLE #i mean that’s just. come on.#like I don’t think the writing is terrible I saw several posts dragging it and don’t get me wrong it’s not GREAT #but it’s not that bad I mean I got sucked in to this podcast pretty well #but there are definitely points where I’m just like… shaking my head #as a listener but ESPECIALLY as a writer #i think I’ve unintentionally explained away some of it ie the dialogue in particular by just envisioning Nic Silver as a Hes Just Like That #also a Total Moron (affectionate) but listen this man is not neurotypical no way #anyway. DARK MYSTERY SPOOKY STUFF HELL YEAH #tanis podcast #nic silver #geoff van sant #idk if they have tags. but there they are #Cassie has too many tags #Cassie rambles

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sparkly-vampires-again · 11 months

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My friend challenged me to a musical-adaptation-writing competition this summer, and I can't go into too much detail because it would spoil the surprise but it is so much fun. I am really hoping that having a deadline will give me the motivation to actually finish the project, and if I get it done I will definitely post about it

#for context I was a prolific (though not especially talented) song-lyric writer in middle and high school #and still periodically write when the mood strikes me #and have at least four unfinished (not very good) musical projects #but part of that is that I'm not great at plotting #ADAPTING on the other hand...#is a new field for me but one i have bery strong opinions about #we're just doing lyrics and scripts and aiming for 30min so it should be doable in this time frame #although mine is actually looking like it'll be closer to an hour #the lyrics are meant to be “you have a melody in mind but don't have to write sheet music” and I did a TON of improvised composing today #wrote full first drafts of two songs #and wrote about a third of the dialogue #summer 2023 mystery musical

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nocturnalghoul-archive · 1 year

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Finally posted the Ghockey fic I forced to myself to work on through today. Now time to lay on the floor and scroll as a reward.

#ya know typical 3am behavior :)#it took me so much longer than it should have #I have gotten out of the habit of writing consistently except for the murder mystery stuff I work on but that doesn’t have much dialogue #so therefore that doesn’t count #nocturnal ramblings #also I might smack my thing about dews pre game habits over there on my ao3 as well when I get off work tomorrow :)

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derinwrites · 3 days

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The Three Commandments

The thing about writing is this: you gotta start in medias res, to hook your readers with action immediately. But readers aren’t invested in people they know nothing about, so start with a framing scene that instead describes the characters and the stakes. But those scenes are boring, so cut straight to the action, after opening with a clever quip, but open in the style of the story, and try not to be too clever in the opener, it looks tacky. One shouldn’t use too many dialogue tags, it’s distracting; but you can use ‘said’ a lot, because ‘said’ is invisible, but don’t use ‘said’ too much because it’s boring and uninformative – make sure to vary your dialogue tags to be as descriptive as possible, except don’t do that because it’s distracting, and instead rely mostly on ‘said’ and only use others when you need them. But don’t use ‘said’ too often; you should avoid dialogue tags as much as you possibly can and indicate speakers through describing their reactions. But don’t do that, it’s distracting.

Having a viewpoint character describe themselves is amateurish, so avoid that. But also be sure to describe your viewpoint character so that the reader can picture them. And include a lot of introspection, so we can see their mindset, but don’t include too much introspection, because it’s boring and takes away from the action and really bogs down the story, but also remember to include plenty of introspection so your character doesn’t feel like a robot. And adverbs are great action descriptors; you should have a lot of them, but don’t use a lot of adverbs; they’re amateurish and bog down the story. And

The reason new writers are bombarded with so much outright contradictory writing advice is that these tips are conditional. It depends on your style, your genre, your audience, your level of skill, and what problems in your writing you’re trying to fix. Which is why, when I’m writing, I tend to focus on what I call my Three Commandments of Writing. These are the overall rules; before accepting any writing advice, I check whether it reinforces one of these rules or not. If not, I ditch it.

1: Thou Shalt Have Something To Say

What’s your book about?

I don’t mean, describe to me the plot. I mean, why should anybody read this? What’s its thesis? What’s its reason for existence, from the reader’s perspective? People write stories for all kinds of reasons, but things like ‘I just wanted to get it out of my head’ are meaningless from a reader perspective. The greatest piece of writing advice I ever received was you putting words on a page does not obligate anybody to read them. So why are the words there? What point are you trying to make?

The purpose of your story can vary wildly. Usually, you’ll be exploring some kind of thesis, especially if you write genre fiction. Curse Words, for example, is an exploration of self-perpetuating power structures and how aiming for short-term stability and safety can cause long-term problems, as well as the responsibilities of an agitator when seeking to do the necessary work of dismantling those power structures. Most of the things in Curse Words eventually fold back into exploring this question. Alternately, you might just have a really cool idea for a society or alien species or something and want to show it off (note: it can be VERY VERY HARD to carry a story on a ‘cool original concept’ by itself. You think your sky society where they fly above the clouds and have no rainfall and have to harvest water from the clouds below is a cool enough idea to carry a story: You’re almost certainly wrong. These cool concept stories work best when they are either very short, or working in conjunction with exploring a theme). You might be writing a mystery series where each story is a standalone mystery and the point is to present a puzzle and solve a fun mystery each book. Maybe you’re just here to make the reader laugh, and will throw in anything you can find that’ll act as framing for better jokes. In some genres, readers know exactly what they want and have gotten it a hundred times before and want that story again but with different character names – maybe you’re writing one of those. (These stories are popular in romance, pulp fantasy, some action genres, and rather a lot of types of fanfiction).

Whatever the main point of your story is, you should know it by the time you finish the first draft, because you simply cannot write the second draft if you don’t know what the point of the story is. (If you write web serials and are publishing the first draft, you’ll need to figure it out a lot faster.)

Once you know what the point of your story is, you can assess all writing decisions through this lens – does this help or hurt the point of my story?

2: Thou Shalt Respect Thy Reader’s Investment

Readers invest a lot in a story. Sometimes it’s money, if they bought your book, but even if your story is free, they invest time, attention, and emotional investment. The vast majority of your job is making that investment worth it. There are two factors to this – lowering the investment, and increasing the payoff. If you can lower your audience’s suspension of disbelief through consistent characterisation, realistic (for your genre – this may deviate from real realism) worldbuilding, and appropriately foreshadowing and forewarning any unexpected rules of your world. You can lower the amount of effort or attention your audience need to put into getting into your story by writing in a clear manner, using an entertaining tone, and relying on cultural touchpoints they understand already instead of pushing them in the deep end into a completely unfamiliar situation. The lower their initial investment, the easier it is to make the payoff worth it.

Two important notes here: one, not all audiences view investment in the same way. Your average reader views time as a major investment, but readers of long fiction (epic fantasies, web serials, et cetera) often view length as part of the payoff. Brandon Sanderson fans don’t grab his latest book and think “Uuuugh, why does it have to be so looong!” Similarly, some people like being thrown in the deep end and having to put a lot of work into figuring out what the fuck is going on with no onboarding. This is one of science fiction’s main tactics for forcibly immersing you in a future world. So the valuation of what counts as too much investment varies drastically between readers.

Two, it’s not always the best idea to minimise the necessary investment at all costs. Generally, engagement with art asks something of us, and that’s part of the appeal. Minimum-effort books do have their appeal and their place, in the same way that idle games or repetitive sitcoms have their appeal and their place, but the memorable stories, the ones that have staying power and provide real value, are the ones that ask something of the reader. If they’re not investing anything, they have no incentive to engage, and you’re just filling in time. This commandment does not exist to tell you to try to ask nothing of your audience – you should be asking something of your audience. It exists to tell you to respect that investment. Know what you’re asking of your audience, and make sure that the ask is less than the payoff.

The other way to respect the investment is of course to focus on a great payoff. Make those characters socially fascinating, make that sacrifice emotionally rending, make the answer to that mystery intellectually fulfilling. If you can make the investment worth it, they’ll enjoy your story. And if you consistently make their investment worth it, you build trust, and they’ll be willing to invest more next time, which means you can ask more of them and give them an even better payoff. Audience trust is a very precious currency and this is how you build it – be worth their time.

But how do you know what your audience does and doesn’t consider an onerous investment? And how do you know what kinds of payoff they’ll find rewarding? Easy – they self-sort. Part of your job is telling your audience what to expect from you as soon as you can, so that if it’s not for them, they’ll leave, and if it is, they’ll invest and appreciate the return. (“Oh but I want as many people reading my story as possible!” No, you don’t. If you want that, you can write paint-by-numbers common denominator mass appeal fic. What you want is the audience who will enjoy your story; everyone else is a waste of time, and is in fact, detrimental to your success, because if they don’t like your story then they’re likely to be bad marketing. You want these people to bounce off and leave before you disappoint them. Don’t try to trick them into staying around.) Your audience should know, very early on, what kind of an experience they’re in for, what the tone will be, the genre and character(s) they’re going to follow, that sort of thing. The first couple of chapters of Time to Orbit: Unknown, for example, are a micro-example of the sorts of mysteries that Aspen will be dealing with for most of the book, as well as a sample of their character voice, the way they approach problems, and enough of their background, world and behaviour for the reader to decide if this sort of story is for them. We also start the story with some mildly graphic medical stuff, enough physics for the reader to determine the ‘hardness’ of the scifi, and about the level of physical risk that Aspen will be putting themselves at for most of the book. This is all important information for a reader to have.

If you are mindful of the investment your readers are making, mindful of the value of the payoff, and honest with them about both from the start so that they can decide whether the story is for them, you can respect their investment and make sure they have a good time.

3: Thou Shalt Not Make Thy World Less Interesting

This one’s really about payoff, but it’s important enough to be its own commandment. It relates primarily to twists, reveals, worldbuilding, and killing off storylines or characters. One mistake that I see new writers make all the time is that they tank the engagement of their story by introducing a cool fun twist that seems so awesome in the moment and then… is a major letdown, because the implications make the world less interesting.

“It was all a dream” twists often fall into this trap. Contrary to popular opinion, I think these twists can be done extremely well. I’ve seen them done extremely well. The vast majority of the time, they’re very bad. They’re bad because they take an interesting world and make it boring. The same is true of poorly thought out, shocking character deaths – when you kill a character, you kill their potential, and if they’re a character worth killing in a high impact way then this is always a huge sacrifice on your part. Is it worth it? Will it make the story more interesting? Similarly, if your bad guy is going to get up and gloat ‘Aha, your quest was all planned by me, I was working in the shadows to get you to acquire the Mystery Object since I could not! You have fallen into my trap! Now give me the Mystery Object!’, is this a more interesting story than if the protagonist’s journey had actually been their own unmanipulated adventure? It makes your bad guy look clever and can be a cool twist, but does it mean that all those times your protagonist escaped the bad guy’s men by the skin of his teeth, he was being allowed to escape? Are they retroactively less interesting now?

Whether these twists work or not will depend on how you’ve constructed the rest of your story. Do they make your world more or less interesting?

If you have the audience’s trust, it’s permissible to make your world temporarily less interesting. You can kill off the cool guy with the awesome plan, or make it so that the Chosen One wasn’t actually the Chosen One, or even have the main character wake up and find out it was all a dream, and let the reader marinate in disappointment for a little while before you pick it up again and turn things around so that actually, that twist does lead to a more interesting story! But you have to pick it up again. Don’t leave them with the version that’s less interesting than the story you tanked for the twist. The general slop of interest must trend upward, and your sacrifices need to all lead into the more interesting world. Otherwise, your readers will be disappointed, and their experience will be tainted.

Whenever I’m looking at a new piece of writing advice, I view it through these three rules. Is this plot still delivering on the book’s purpose, or have I gone off the rails somewhere and just stared writing random stuff? Does making this character ‘more relateable’ help or hinder that goal? Does this argument with the protagonists’ mother tell the reader anything or lead to any useful payoff; is it respectful of their time? Will starting in medias res give the audience an accurate view of the story and help them decide whether to invest? Does this big twist that challenges all the assumptions we’ve made so far imply a world that is more or less interesting than the world previously implied?

Hopefully these can help you, too.

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evasive-anon · 3 months

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Jason Attacking Tim at Titans Tower

Fanon vs Canon

We've all seen the versions in fanfiction but I'm not so sure everyone's seen the original so if you're one of those batfam fans who doesn't want to read the comics (regardless of reasons) but you are curious about how it actually went this is for you.

What I'm addressing:

What does Jason actually say to Tim during the attack?

Did Jason drug all the other Titans?

Did Jason really wear a Robin costume?

Did Jason slit Tim's throat or call him replacement?

Did Jason actually break Tim's bo staff?

Was Tim crying or scared?

Did Jason write a message on the wall in Tim's blood?

Did Jason's eyes glow green?/Did he follow pit rage mechanics?

Panels and details below. This is a LONG one.

What did Jason actually say to Tim during the attack?

Dialogue in fanfiction during the Titans Tower attack varies based on what kind of fic you're reading but usually its either 'time to clip Replacement's wings' if its staying a beatdown whump 'or oh no precious lil bby why is no one watching you' if its an accidental child acquisition. Not judging either option, but this ain't about them its about the real shit.

Look at these opening lines:

Hey, Tim. I was here first.You're the Red Hood. You've been cleaning up Gotham the easy way. Easy? What do you know about easy, Tim? You had a father that looked after you. You went to a private school, right? You slept in a bed. I slept on the streets, I lived in the alleyways in Gotham. Trying to survive. Until Bruce took me in. I trained as hard as I could. I did whatever he asked. . . at least at first. But it didn't matter. They said I wasn't tough enough to be robin. But today, they say you are. Show me, Tim. Show me what you have that I didn't.

Jason really puts himself out there in all of his dialogue in this encounter, the struggle of having to fight for anything and everything he got in life, even the things that came to everyone else for free, and then being told he wasn't even good enough for the things he fought for.

There's a trope in fanfics that if Jason knew Tim stalked Batman and forced his way into being Robin that it would change how Jason felt about the situation but that's even addressed in this comic:

You were a kid, worried about how Batman was spiraling down into darkness. You spent weeks tracking the dark knight. Solving a mystery no one else could. You discovered who he was behind that mask. Millionaire Bruce Wayne. You were so pleased with yourself, I'm sure that you forgot who you were really dealing with. I know Bruce Wayne. And let me tell you, Tim if someone was trying to find out who Batman really was. If someone was stalking him for weeks. He'd know about it. You can't be that good. I am. He let you find him. And I bet he said the same thing to you as he did to me, didn't he? That you had a talent to make a difference in Gotham. That he needed someone he could trust in war on crime. That you were one of a kind. The light to his darkness. Robin, the Boy Wonder.

Tim saying 'I am' is really such a moment that doesn't come through in text because he is right that he really did do that but I also completely understand why Jason wouldn't believe it.

TBH my favorite part is how done Tim honestly sounds with Jason thoughout all his trauma dumping. Like imagine a grown man who used to work the same part time job as you breaking into your house, dressing up in your work uniform, ranting about how much the job ruined his life while he beats your ass??? God, and he probably had to write a fucking report about it after. RIP Timmy.

What do you want? Do you want to be Robin again? Is that it? You... want to take it away from me? Why in the hell would I ever want that? Don't you get it? When I died no one cared! No one remembered me. Are you completely insane? No one could forget you. I've spent my entire career wearing this mask under your shadow. I had to convince Batman to let me try this. All because he'll never stop blaming himself for what happened to you. You ask me, that's the only reason he hasn't taken you down. He's holding back. But me? No freakin' way. That's the Robin I wanted to see. Still. You do realize the whole idea of training a teenager to fight against something he'll never eradicate is a mistake. It didn't even surprise anyone when I died. When I failed. I failed-- but I'm still beating you. Do you think you're that good now?! Do you really, Tim? Yes.

Tim bashing Jason across the face as he says 'no freakin' way'? *chefs kiss*

Jason drugging the other Titans to knock them out?

Little bit true, Kory was actually just already away from the tower and BB and Cyborg were about to bounce because of the drama going on with Donna's return but Jason like super tazes them and then drugs Raven who he thought already went through enough shit without him knocking her out violently.

Note: Jason says in the text here that he never rolled with Cyborg or BB but like he actually did in some comics so?? The continuity is lie I guess idk.

Did he show up in Red Hood gear or a Robin costume?

Both tbh but he spent most of the time in the Robin costume but bro actually made a stripper rip away version of his Red Hood gear so he could dramatically reveal the Robin costume underneath. I can't believe no one ever includes that in their fics its so fucking funny.

Does he call Tim 'replacement' or slit his throat?

No, this came from a Batman comic with Hush not Teen Titans. That incident takes place in a graveyard not Titans Tower and he calls Tim pretender not replacement.

Does Jason break Tim's staff?

Tragically, no. The bo staff snap would have been iconic. Instead he just takes Tim's staff and beats Tim up with it and breaks stuff. BUT!! He uses it to bust a statue in the TITANS MEMORIAL ROOM which is a place in Titans Tower just for having statues of dead previous titans and Jason is rightfully pissed he didn't get one. Like Tim is correct in saying no one forgot him still but like I would be hurt too if all my friends made cool statues of friends that died and then just left my zombie ass out, like wtf.

Note: I am seriously losing my shit that I have never seen someone bring up the memorial room in a fanfic. That is so much angst material. 😭

Tim crying/ being scared?

Hell no. He's a fucking Robin you know he's being a sassy boy the whole time, even towards the end when he's about done he's still saying he's her and I love Tim for that.

Note: There are a few different times where Tim does a flippy Robin move and then Jason just fucking copies it like flexing that he can do it too, and its just so petty and stupid he's trying so hard to be better than an actual child. 💀I get why in the context of the situation but its still so ridiculous.

Message on the wall in Tim's blood?

TBH I really don't know for sure on this one?? Like its implied that he did but Tim isn't bleeding all that much throughout this beatdown and like we don't see Jason do it just the Titans reacting to seeing it after. It could be Tim's blood, it could be red paint, and it could even be that Jason packed an actual bucket of blood to bring with him to write a message with after he finished. TBH the world is your oyster on this one.

Note: If anyone can find another comic where this event was brought up where they actually clarify it was Tim's blood hmu and I'll update this but I couldn't find any.

Pit rage/ glowing green eyes?

Fanon only at this point in the comics. Jason is seems to be himself and even thinks Tim and his friends are pretty cool at the end, and he's just like reflecting on if he had good friends if he would have turned out better as he leaves.

#tim drake #jason todd #red hood #robin dc #teen titans #comic panels #jason and tim #teen titans 2003 #dc comics #panels are from teen titans (2003) issue 29 #i would never tell anyone they have to read comics but i do think seeing the original scene of fanon favs is good #not because you need to follow them but because its good to know what you're taking inspo from #jason attacking tim at titans tower #LONG POST

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shoemakerobstetrician · 9 months

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Season 3 Opening Scene Nightingale 1941 Theory

So, season 2 opened with a flashback that had us totally reevaluating Aziraphale’s and Crowley’s relationship. I think the same will be true of season 3.

I think we will return to the night in 1941, to find out that they kissed, danced, or more that night.

1 - Why are they sitting at a table in the bookshop just drinking, no food on the table? When they’re drinking they don’t use a table. I think it’s to clue us in that there is more to the scene than what we are seeing - at some point before or after they had dinner.

2 - We know that Aziraphale did the apology dance in 1941 - again an indication that there is probably more to that evening than what we have seen so far.

3 - When Crowley says ‘no nightingales’ in S2E6 we now think he’s referring to the scene at the end of S1E6 in the Ritz, but it does seem a bit of a reach. It was a very nice moment, but I don’t think a relationship defining one that would cause both of them to think of it as their song.

4 - A Nightingale Sang was released in 1940, first charting at the end of December 1940. It would have been a hit in 1941 (according to Wikipedia it got up to #2).

5 - I think they had dinner, they danced, or perhaps even kissed to Nightingale as it was playing on the radio, and it became their song in a much more significant moment in 1941.

6 - When Aziraphale says to Crowley “Perhaps one day we could…dine at the Ritz” after “You go too fast for me Crowley” he would then be directly referring to their song from 1941.

7 - When it plays at the Ritz at the end of season 1, it’s because the pianist finds themselves mysteriously compelled to perform it, like the Oxford bus driver taking them to London.

8 - And finally, when Crowley says “no nightingales” at the end of S2 it is just devastating, it’s him saying there is no us.

And another thing: in the lyrics to Nightingale: That Certain night, the night we met/There was MAGIC abroad in the air. 😁

One more thing: I can certainly see Neil gleefully being like “Psych, it WASN’T their first kiss.”, and the scene would be just as heartbreaking if not more so if it was what Crowley thought was their last kiss.

ETA I just rewatched the bookshop table scene for like the 17th time. Holy 💩 is the dialogue strange and very loaded. The “trust me” bit, and the “shades of grey”. Throughout the whole scene Aziraphale is sideways eye fucking Crowley. There is simply no way we’re not going to see more of this scene in Season 3.

I very much like this whole idea, it probably won’t happen. Maybe someone will write a fanfic at least.

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darklordofthesimp · 1 month

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Anything VIII (König x Reader)

The 8th instalment in the Anything-Verse

Main Masterlist

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

Like the characters? Read their fics below!

Sunshine Masterlist || Saint Masterlist

Series Summary: A lack of information from the chain of command results in König mistaking you for an enemy sniper.

A/N: No one make any sudden movements. I have returned. Excuse how rusty my writing is.

Category: Angst || Hurt/Comfort || Unrequited Pining || Tension

Warning: Graphic Language

What a sight you must behold.

Sleepless, stressed and on the verge of your breaking point… again.

It was no wonder that Saint watched you with deep concern, no wonder that they held their pen like it was a lifeline rather than just stationary. You wanted them to just understand, you needed them to know that you weren’t insane- everything was so elaborately planned and you were just on the verge of unravelling it.

“Saint,” you rasped, “there are people in on this…. The brass. I think König too. It’s a fuck-fight.”

The doctor leaned back into their chair, eyes never leaving your jittering figure. The sigh that fell from their lips released none of the tension balled tightly in their shoulders.

“Birdy…”

You stood to your feet. You didn’t want to hear it.

You were sick of hearing people say your name in that tone: placatingly, diminishing your thoughts and dismissing you as if you were the local crazy.

Maybe you were the local crazy.

Is that how everybody saw you? Did everybody truly think that you were so off-kilter that you’d hallucinate a coup? You were a victim of assault- not insanity.

“Stop,” Saint put their pen down firmly on the table, drawing your attention back to the situation at hand. “I’m listening. I’m just a little… hesitant. It’s a very serious accusation, Birdy, but I’m not doubting the source.”

You shot the medical officer a knowing glare. “Oh,” you drawled sarcastically, “because everybody takes me seriously at this unit with my history, right?”

“I don’t give a fuck about whether anybody else takes you seriously,” Saint’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “I take you seriously, Birdy.”

The room was doused in tension. Your fingers curled to form tight fists, skin stretching over your knuckles until they turned white. You don’t know why you were angry at their declaration, angry at their loyalty.

Maybe it was because you knew it was misplaced.

Maybe it was because you knew you’d disappoint. “Yeah,” you sighed softly, relaxing your hands as you turned for the door. “That makes one of us.”

_______

The walk to training always held some anxiety but this time it was as if you were drowning in it. Each step felt like a death knell and sudden dryness in your mouth made you want to turn back and run to the safety of your room.

You thought that you were well and truly past this.

Apparently, you couldn’t get past anything.

As you approached the door you were surprised to hear voices. No one ever wanted to interact with König, let alone at 7 a.m. on a Saturday. The room was always booked for the two of you at this time, interruptions were specifically warned against by Price.

It’s just a conversation. You took in a deep breath. Not everything required a downward spiral, not all mysteries needed investigation.

Literally just a fucking conversation. Get a grip.

You straightened your shoulders as you approached the door and the dialogue became clearer.

“Birdy will be here soon.” König’s voice was as familiar as your own. “You need to leave.”

You pulled up short just before the entrance, frozen like a deer in the headlights. There was a short silence before a soft thud echoed throughout the room. It sounded like a hand being clapped over the shoulder but you weren’t sure. Could have been a punch, could have been a really intense kiss, who fucking knew?

All you knew was that they weren’t meant to be there. Maybe it was Sunshine.

Although you hated the arrogant fucker, it would relieve you to know it was them. They were inconsequential and, although they were annoying, they wouldn’t be behind your assassination attempt.

Sunshine would have made sure you were in the ground, no matter the cost. Sunshine would have succeeded.

Instead, the voice that rattled in your ears wasn’t your fellow coworker.

“Just be careful. Wouldn’t want to jump the gun, would we?”

Your blood turned to ice.

Graves.

You could almost hear that snake-like grin in his words, you could almost see the look in his eyes that was nothing but predatory. Phillip was charming when he wanted to be, but there was something terrifying about him.

Like a trap lying in wait.

Like a traitor waiting to strike.

The sound of sure and steady footsteps snapped you out of your thoughts. Panic flooded your system, kicking your adrenaline into gear. There was nowhere to hide, not even a small nook in this god-forsaken hallway.

As Graves drew closer to discovering your presence, you bounced back a few steps from where you’d been frozen. Throwing your arms above your head as if you were stretching and squinting your eyes with an outrageous yawn was all you could pull together.

Phillip rounded the corner with a cocky sway that made your heart race. You watched him scan your slowly approaching body, seemingly tired and unaware. You acted surprised to see him, carefully schooling your face to return to the usual lifelessness that it held.

“Birdy!” Graves said, slowing his pace. With a flash of teeth, the corner of his mouth pulled upward into a knowing smirk. “Good to see you.”

“I bet,” you said monotonously, adding a dismissive nod at the end like a punctuation mark.

Phillip’s smirk turned into a smile.

“Enjoy your session,” the man said slowly. As he drew closer you could feel your chest tightening. He smelt fresh like he had just gotten out of a long, hot shower. You hated that he was close enough to smell the fucking body wash on his skin.

His shoulder brushed yours as he passed by, setting your body alight with fear. You didn’t dare look over your shoulder as you trekked towards the gym door, eyes firm on that handle. His footsteps still echoed along the hallway by the time that you’d reached the entrance.

“You’re late.”

König’s voice startled you despite making direct eye contact with him.

The man looked disgruntled, to say the least. His hair looked like he’d been running his fingers through it over and over, and your guess was confirmed when he roughly raked it over once more. König’s eyes were looking anywhere but yours.

“I’m not.” You’d meant for those words to have some bite to them but you couldn’t muster up the venom. Not when he looked like that.

“You are,” he insisted with a snarl.

You raised your hands up in surrender, eyes narrowing at his hostility. The urge to leave grew tenfold and so did your distrust for the man before you. There were too many things that pointed towards his guilt in planning your assassination.

The way he’d tried to blow off your concerns, the vehement way he’d shouted for you to drop it, and now, his interaction with Graves. You thought back to your time in the kitchen when Phillip had first encountered you both.

“Now, who’d have thought that you’d both be so… close.” He had said.

The Shadow had watched with intrigue as König stepped in front of you as if protecting you from him. If you really thought about it, most of his smarminess was aimed at the man beside you, rather than yourself.

You swallowed and choked on your own spit. It was a distant reminder of when it had been your own blood that you’d coughed on.

König’s sigh tore you from your spiralling conspiracies.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. His tone was quiet but his eyes were genuine.

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat. “No, it’s fine. I get shitty when I deal with Graves, too.”

But why was he with Phillip in the first place?

You wanted to ask him, everything in you pleaded to seek out the truth. You needed to investigate-, you needed to know. Your mouth opened to get the answers you so desperately desired, but a thought made you stop in your tracks.

What if you let on that you were suspicious of him?

It was clear that you were no match against König. Your entire life had become interwoven with his and it felt like he was there in your every waking moment. If he knew that you suspected him, it would only put you in danger again. He’d busted through your bedroom door once and that was enough to tell you that you wouldn’t be safe from him anywhere you went.

You distantly realized that König was watching you carefully from where he stood, jade eyes analyzing every quirk of your lips and every twitch of your brows.

“What?” You said, feigning self-consciousness. “Admiring your handiwork?”

The man shot you a glare and you prayed that was enough to shift his attention.

“I hate it when you say things like that,” he hissed, pulling his jacket down his arms and throwing it aside. “Seriously.”

“Yeah, well I hate having a chopping block for a face.” You tilted your head to shoot him a deadpan look over your shoulder. “Seriously.”

“I cannot deal with you sometimes, Birdy.” König hissed.

“I can tell,” you jerked your thumb towards your marred features.

You knew that you were playing with fire. The way the man stood straight, his gaze narrowing and any sense of banter dissipating from his features, made it very clear that it was time for you to stop pushing that particular button.

“Your attempt at deflecting is not as effective as you may think,” König said, his words slow and deliberate. Jade eyes bore into yours and your breath stuttered in your chest.

You could lie to him, you could play dumb. He was dangerous and if you tipped him off you would be dead by morning.

You couldn’t make sense of that logic, though. If he wanted you dead, you’d well and truly have been dead by now. Your cheeks stung at the thought… you suppose that there wasn’t a lack of trying. Maybe it really had just been a failed attempt.

“Birdy,” the soldier said, shooting a glance at the door. “I know what you are thinking and you need to put a stop to it.”

Those contesting thoughts came to a staggering halt.

“I don’t even know what I’m thinking,” you snapped. “What would you know?”

König raised a brow at your tone, opening his mouth to deliver what you would assume to be an infuriating response. The words choked and fell from his tongue, though. There was a huff as he turned on his heel, stalking towards the exit and closing the door.

You swallowed thickly.

When he swivelled to look at you it was with a burning gaze that pinned you to where you stood.

“You bring attention to us in ways that will get us killed,” König whispered harshly, his accent was sharp and heavy with each enunciation. “You need to stop.”

“Stop what?” You waved your hands at him. “You’re so fucking vague.”

He flinched forward, pushing his finger onto your lips. You smacked his hand away like a cat pawing at something irritating.

“Would you be quiet?” He snarled through gritted teeth. König took in a deep breath, casting another look at the exit. He was watching the light beneath the door, making sure there were no shadows tipping off an eavesdropper. Why was he suddenly the paranoid one?

“What the fuck are you talking about?” You lowered your tone but the urgency behind it was still present.

“You need to stop chasing this lead,” König shook his head, gaze imploring. “You need to stop trying to find who planned the accident.”

Your mouth went dry.

“Is that a threat?” The words were a true whisper this time. Barely falling from your lips and only as audible as a soft gasp.

König’s eyes widened. “What?”

“Are you in on it?” You asked, taking a step backward.

Bile roiled in your stomach as if mimicking a stormy sea. There was a distinct buzzing in your ears, numbing you to anything but the situation at hand.

“What?” König repeated. “What? No. That is not what I meant by that.”

You shook your head, “the other day- the way you reacted says otherwise.”

He reached out for your arm and you wonder if it was to comfort you or to detain you. You finched away from him but this time the man before you didn’t yield. He did not back down and he did not allow you the illusion of control.

Instead, König held you firmly by your biceps.

“I need you to listen to me, Birdy. We don’t have time for this back and forth thing that we do every time.”

Rage tore through your chest at his dismissal and you would have told him as much had he not looked so desperate. Instead, you kept your mouth shut as the man watched you pleadingly. You would let him speak because maybe he had the answers you were searching for, maybe König would be the evidence to prove that these suspicions weren’t delusions.

The man cast another glance towards the doorway before letting go of your arms. You straightened cautiously, being mindful to not rub at the skin he’d had contact with.

“Well?” You whispered impatiently, waving a hand at him to continue. “You wanna manhandle me or do you want to talk?”

“It’s not safe for us to talk here,” König’s words were barely audible. “You need to stop with your head-hunting. Stop asking questions.”

His eyes were fierce, warning you not to challenge his demands but you couldn’t care less. He, of all people, had no right to be telling you when to chase answers.

He raised a hand before you could speak. “You are going to get us both killed because you gather intel like a child-”

“What does that even mean?” You interrupted harshly.

“It means you have alerted everyone, Birdy!” König snapped, his voice harsh and his eyes flashing. “Whoever did this knows that you’re onto them. They know that we know.”

You blinked dumbly, stunned.

The man glared at you for a long moment, his chest heaving with laden breaths. The silence that eneveloped you both was anything but empty. There was a buzzing in your ears and you weren’t sure if you were relieved or horrified that he’d confirmed your suspicions. Blind rage filled your lungs as if you were drowning.

“You mother fucker!” You hissed between gritted teeth, shoving at his chest with as much force as you could muster. “You fucking knew?”

“Of course I knew!” König bit back as he stumbled for his footing. “I’ve been trying to find them and you have been hindering me every fucking step of the way, Birdy.”

You wanted to scream at the top of your lungs, you wanted to bash this man over and over just like he’d done to you. You weren’t insane but he was more than happy to intimidate you into thinking that you were.

“How could you keep this from me?” Your fingers dug into the skin of his arms as you grabbed him. You wanted to shake the truth from the giant before you, rattle the honesty right from his mouth. “After everything that’s happened!”

König didn’t so much as wince at your nails in his skin, fury simmered in his eyes like molten jade. “I was your main suspect and you outright told me about your suspicions while you were locked in a room with me, Birdy. What would have happened if I was actually everything you make me out to be?”

You swallowed thickly, your fingers loosening their grip.

“I could have killed you right there,” König continued softly, “at this rate you’ll die before you find them.”

“You said I already tipped everyone off,” you rasped, almost meek in tone. “How have they not come for me yet?”

The man rolled his shoulders, shooting another paranoid glance at the door. He continued talking as he scanned the room, searching for telltale signs of a third party.

“Everyone thinks you are disabled, Birdy, no one is taking your concerns seriously.” König straightened, levelling you with an evaluative glare. “But I knew better.”

You drew in a deep breath, holding it in for a few moments before releasing just like Saint had taught you. Your heart squeezed in your chest at the thought of your therapist. You told them everything- König was right. You’d mouthed off your suspicions knowing that Saint and Price were close. What if Saint had told Price? Then Price would have told Shephard and Simon and then- God.

You’re so fucking stupid.

Of course everyone knew, you’d practically blasted it across the unit’s P.A system.

“What now?” You managed to croak. “What do we do now?”

König frowned at you, his body falling still. “We?”

“You’re not leaving me out of this,” you ground out.

“We are not doing anything together,” he said, eyes roaming over your features quizzically. Your heart lurched desperately, there was no way you’d let him do this without you. You deserved to be a part of this, you deserved to get your justice and whoever did this deserved to die.

“You owe it to me!” You nearly raised your voice, fear trickling down the expanse of your spine. Not a fear of the man before you, but this time it was a fear of being left behind. Left to paranoia, left alone with your thoughts and suspicions and no one to hear them.

König shook his head, “we cannot work together.”

“We have to!”

“We can’t!”

Your eyes were wide and your chest was heaving as the man before you gripped your shoulders. He lowered down to a knee, drawing close enough that you were only a breath apart. You opened your mouth to offer a shaky response but the way his gaze ran over your features stole the words straight from your tongue.

“I will not risk your safety again, Birdy.” König’s words brushed against your lips, warm but sorrowful. “That is what I owe to you.”

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