#Kaz's writing tag

[lunarthecorvus]

Kaz Brekker is bad at

[fairytalesofforever]

hey have you ever thought about how inej describes kaz's hands as being for making things vanish? how one of his classic magic tricks is making things disappear? how she describes her trauma response/dissociation as vanishing? how she is the Wraith and it is her greatest skill to disappear?

how we can imply from this that she feels like a) kaz's touch will trigger her and make her vanish and b) he only values her for that skill?

but how, the one thing he does, every time, is see her? is not let her disappear? is ask her, multiple times, to stay? is tell her, "don't slip away from me?"

"but it's what I do best."

[scalproie]

Kazuya's ending was amazing firstly bc Look At It but also bc it validated a thought I've always had in the best way possible for me.

Sure, Jun wants to save Kazuya, she wants to free him of his devil gene and I'm sure she wants for him to stop fighting his own family and to stop causing so much pain in the world, we can assume as much bc Jun is a Good Person™️. But other than that? I don't think she wants to change, let alone "fix", a damn thing about him.

"How can she love Kazuya? He's a monster" Very easily actually. I should know bc I love him.

"So she's just as bad as him then?" It depends. Is Jun actually a bad person for loving someone who causes pain to others? Or is she actually an angel incarnate for still loving and wishing better for the one person that everybody else has given up on? Kindness to some is cruelty to others after all, and vice-versa.

"It feels very unbalanced and one-sided" She indulged him. She caught the statue and smiled at him. Do you not believe she is strong enough to handle him? That because of how she is and how she looks, she cannot hold her own against him? That because she is kind and he is not, they do not stand as equals? Why is that?

"So they'd just fight? He still threw a statue at her" He also keeps a framed picture of her in his office. Why would Kazuya keep a memento to think of her when she's away if he didnt enjoy her company? She indulged him, but he also indulged her with this little bit of sentimentalism.

"Why would Kazuya even like her?" He literally said why. His life is nothing but conflict and battle, and he detests weakness. Conflict is familiar. So how could he not enjoy the presence of the one (1) woman who challenges him in every way, physically and morally, from the very first moment they met? And Jun doesnt just "keep up" with him, she is his match in everyway. The literal Yang to his Yin. She is strong.

"She still deserves better." Yes she does. I dont think she'd want better though.

Also ever since my friend said they have the same smile my life has not known peace.

[gwenboucharddidnothingwrong]

don’t often post drawings but these look so much like how i imagined the characters (plus they turned out pretty good!)

[barrel-crow-n]

"I hate kid fics, I hate fanfiction where the characters are parents now it just feels weird, especially with Kanej-"

Dad!Kaz fics where he finds a baby on the street and takes it in because he's not that much of a monster to leave a baby in the cold, wet streets and he begrudgingly raises it saying stuff like "I should throw you out the window" when it annoys him (he never does), and "You'll be a good investment when you grow up" or "Maybe you'll be good at demo. Or you'll be a spider":

Me: 💳💥💳💥💥💥💳💥💥

[maidenofcrows]

So I’m working on a plotless kanej one shot (that I may or may not finish), and I kinda like this little bit that I’m gonna share with y’all:

… After barely a moment of silence, he laughed. A soft, gentle laugh. The kind that she knew was meant just for her. She’d heard of the Kerch keeping something of their lover’s likeness inside pieces of jewelry. A lock of hair, a penny portrait made by a street vendor, a hand-written note folded on a tiny slip of paper. She thought she would rather store his laugh in one of these lockets and keep it close to her heart always.

Because bottling the other’s laugh and getting drunk on it every night has already been used, I needed to get creative with what Inej thinks of Kaz’s laugh XD I dunno, I just think they’re cute <3

Edit: I did, in fact, finish the thing

[dr-fizzovich]

YALLLLLL

ALSO I FINISHED HALF OF MY FANFIC ^^) be prepared >:3

[lesbiansanemi]

So hard being a sukuna enjoyer and trying to find fics about him because you get one of two options

1. God awful out of character reader insert porn where you’re his uwu submissive (normally terrified of him) concubine or some shit but GASSSSPPPP he ACTUALLY cares about you and is soft for YOU ONLY and he wants you to GET PREGNANT with HIS HEIR oh my GOD

Or

2. God awful out of character suku.fushi or suku.ita where the plot is like what if sukuna was a MAFIA BOSS and he got OBSESSED WITH THEM and KIDNAPPED them and also it was INCEST and OMEGAVERSE and they call him DADDY while he FUCKS THEM INTO THE MATTRESS and talks about their PUSSY the WHOLE time

And both make me want to throw up in my mouth and momentarily wish I had the power to arbitrarily ban ppl from posting on the internet

[dreamtigress]

Last Line Challenge

Rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you feel like).

Thanks for the tag, @tinyarmedtrex!

My last line is from Chapter 4 of Vakantie:

Playing it up for the public audience was one of Kaz’s strong suits, after all.

Soft Tagging, if you have a last line you'd like to share: @intosnarkness, @hotpinkmurex, @tough-n-dumb, @sc11vb, @magicandpizza...

@19burstraat, @linearao3, @cameliawrites, @discessio, @porcelainmortal...

@aphroditestummyrolls, @malconnorsupremacy, @theprinceandagcd, @wraith--2, and @downn-in-flames

[emipon]

💫The Eye💫

[sparrowmoth]

WIP Wednesday Sunday

Tagged by the lovely @nerdlingmerchling to share some of the WIP I'm working on! This is a oneshot sequel to an older fic of mine about certain events which I've started writing under duress from some of my dear degenerate friends lol. It's Wesper, of course, but I decided to share this Kaz & Jesper moment since it's mostly spoiler free. <3

Kaz, pouring the last mug of coffee from the pot with a venomous eye on Jesper, had overheard them speaking and casually remarked he had been wondering at the absence of a couple of his wool coats. “How would you even notice, the way the black all blends together? I look inside your wardrobe and it’s like looking in the bloody Fold.” “Why would you be looking in my wardrobe?” Kaz asked coolly. “Trying to find where you keep your heart at,” retorted Jesper, and then leaned against the wall, arms folded over his chest. “Really, it was just a turn of phrase. Don’t go looking at me like I’m the thief.” Kaz sipped at his steaming mug of coffee, watching Jesper over the rim. “You might well be covering up your crimes by stealing from yourself.” He didn’t sound at all serious. Still, it annoyed Jesper—and that might well have been the point of it, judging by his smirk. “You’re not taking this seriously,” Jesper grumbled.

The context for this will be... IYKYK until such time it's complete. ;)

Tagging (no pressure): @kindness-ricochets @remadora-black @jazzythursday @oneofthewednesdays @finitevoid @sunfl8wer @wespertilionidae @waterloou and anyone else who wants to do this, feel free to say I tagged you. <3

[she-posts-nerdy-stuff]

Don't Go Blindly Into the Dark

Summary:

To hide that he can't read, Jan Van Eck has been forcing his son to pretend he's blind since he was eight years old. Wylan is now attending Ketterdam University, and meeting Jesper Fahey may very well be about to change his life. But is he safe to tell Jesper the truth? And what will Jesper say if he does?

Jesper is struggling to weigh up his life in the Barrel and his life at the University of Ketterdam, and there's a good chance that his growing debt is about to make the decision for him. He hasn't attended class consecutively for months, but maybe that will change when his newest project includes partnering up with Wylan Van Eck. But can he really leave the Barrel behind him? And how long can he keep up the pretence of who he thinks Wylan wants him to be?

Tags: @justalunaticfangirl @lunarthecorvus

If anyone else would like to be tagged let me know :)

Content warnings for this chapter: ptsd, wounds, implied violence, implied child abuse

AO3 link

Chapter 22 - Wylan

Jesper was right - talking really was his superpower. If Wylan hadn’t eventually said:

“Jes, don’t you need to go to work?” he wasn’t sure he ever would’ve stopped. 

He had encouraged Wylan to drink the tea he’d brought up for him, pressing the warm mug into his hands and guiding Wylan’s fingers to the handle as he chattered, but for the most part Wylan just sat feeling the heat of it between his palms. There were a couple of bread rolls lying on a plate across the room as well, but Jesper hadn’t mentioned them and Wylan wasn’t hungry. Jesper had paused briefly in the middle of a story Wylan wasn’t really listening to when he realised how much time must have passed, because the tea was cold. He was grateful for the sound of Jesper’s voice to occupy his mind even if he wasn’t really listening to what he said, it felt like an anchor keeping him in this room, in this moment. He almost regretted stopping him, but he didn’t want to be the reason Jesper was late or missed work. 

“Oh, shoot, yeah,” Jesper laughed, “I can stay, if you want-”

“I’ll be okay,” Wylan breathed, trying to smile, “Really. Thank you, so much,”

“Of course, love,” Jesper stood up and leaned a little closer; Wylan felt himself tense, “You want a new drink?”

He was looking at the half empty mug, its steam long dissipated and its colour fading from the most welcoming sight. 

“Oh- it’s alright, thanks,” Wylan let Jesper take the cold tea off him and set it back on the table, “Are you sure it’s okay for me to stay here?”

He didn’t know why he was risking asking - he didn’t have anywhere else to go. But he didn’t want to make Jesper feel like he had to take care of him. 

“Of course,” he said, again, “Long as you want. I’ll run and find some dry clothes and then I’ll go,”

Wylan nodded, but even so when Jesper returned and knocked on the door again he felt himself flinch. His breathing grew sharp and one of his hands fumbled to his neck, as if he was still trying to pull Prior’s hands away from his throat. He knew it was just Jesper, he knew that, he knew that. But apparently that wasn’t going to stop his brain from going into overdrive. 

“Wylan?”

He couldn’t answer. He couldn’t breathe.

“Wylan, are you okay?”

“Yeah - sorry,” his voice didn’t sound right, “I - sorry -”

“Don’t apologise. I can leave these here for you and you can just get them when you want, or-”

“Uh, no, it’s okay,” Wylan managed, flexing his fingers in and out of his fists, “You can come in. Sorry,”

“Do you know what don’t apologise means?” asked Jesper as the door opened, smiling at Wylan, “Here,”

He tossed a shirt and a pair of trousers, which landed sort of haphazardly on Wylan’s lap as he tried to catch them. He dropped the shirt.

“Sorry, probably should’ve thought that through,” Jesper picked it up and pressed it into Wylan’s hand, “But I think those should fit okay - and there’s a railing on the wall opposite the bed, you can hang your stuff on there to dry,”

Wylan nodded.

“Thank you,” 

“Yeah of course - okay, I’ve gotta run or I’m gonna be late, are you sure you’re okay on your own?”

Wylan just nodded again. 

He had been glad to sit with Jesper for a while, listening to whatever he’d been talking about without really taking it in, but he was glad to have a little time for himself as well.

Jesper’s room could only be described as chaotic. The bed was unmade, the pillows in disarray and the duvet falling half onto the floor where the corner drooped into a pile of discarded clothes. The table where Wylan’s cold tea and the little bread rolls were sitting in wait was also decorated by several other used cups and plates, some stacked on top of each other and some shoved to one side to make space for the ones Jesper had brought up earlier. It wasn’t a big space but there was a window that peered onto the street below and, if Wylan’s sight hadn’t been blurry, would have given him the vaguest hint of the canal behind the next few buildings, with frayed curtains that had clearly faded from whatever colour they were once supposed to be. Other than the faded curtains Jesper’s room was actually very colourful, like it was impossible for him to own more than one item in the same shade. Wylan turned back from the window, fingers brushing the sill and spilling dust onto the floor. He brushed his hand down the leg of the trousers he’d just changed into, trying to get the remnants off himself, and then picked up his dripping clothes and pushed one of Jesper’s waistcoats to the end of the little railing so there was space to hang them over it. 

The room was definitely chaotic, but that made it feel real. Lived in. Wylan’s room at home could have belonged to pretty much anyone if you didn’t know it was his, but this place looked like it actually belonged to someone. Or like someone actually belonged here. 

It took him a few minutes to convince himself to open his satchel; he wasn’t sure why it felt like he couldn’t do it, but if he left it where it was the water would end up ruining Jesper’s already slightly dodgy floorboards and all of Wylan’s things would be ruined. He wondered what his father had done with the trunks that were supposedly being sent after him, and had to suddenly pinch his nose and swallow hard to try and keep from throwing up. 

Everything in his satchel was soaked through. He had to wring his favourite jumper out over the window ledge before he put it onto the railing with everything else because the wool was holding so much water, and he was pretty sure the shape was all warped and ruined but he was trying to convince himself away from thinking about it. It was an incredibly stupid thing to be concerned about right now, but it was his favourite jumper and it was probably ruined and it was making him want to cry. And what about everything in his trunk? His clothes, his shoes, everything - even the sheet music he’d managed to keep hidden in his wardrobe for so long… all of it must be gone. He’d taken his flute out of his jacket pocket when he hung it over the railing, but now he didn’t really have anywhere else to put it except back into his sopping wet bag and that didn’t seem very practical. He stood in the centre of Jesper’s room, holding his almost definitely ruined flute, staring at his almost definitely ruined jumper, his hair still wet and the goosebumps on his arms still shivering beneath the too-long sleeves of his borrowed shirt. He hoped it was borrowed, anyway, though walking through this building had set him on a pretty certain path that this was probably stolen. 

There were still loud noises chattering through from downstairs and the rooms either side of this one; conversations that were either mostly unintelligible or didn’t make sense to Wylan. There was a couple arguing in the room next door, sounding like they were on the verge of throwing things at each other, and a couple in the room above who were definitely doing something else. Wylan stared at the ceiling for a moment - it’s half six in the morning! - and then shook himself back to his senses. It was like he’d fallen into another world, some kind of mad mirror dimension of the city that he’d thought he knew, and he had no idea how to function here. He wished he’d drunk all of his tea; he wasn’t going to dare venturing anywhere else to get a new one. He settled for the water flask that he’d set on the floor when he took it out of his satchel, running his fingers along the newly acquired dents in the metal. 

Jesper was only gone for about two hours. Wylan paced around the room, finished all the water in his flask, convinced himself to rip an edge of one of the bread rolls. He caught himself in the smudgy mirror and realised there were bruises growing on his throat. He pulled his collar up, as if that would be enough to hide them, and hoped that Jesper wouldn’t notice.

The sounds of the house were relentless and every single one of them was someone coming to find him, Prior or Miggson ready to finish the job. By the time Jesper returned, Wylan was sitting between the wall and the foot of the bed, with knees pulled to his chest, his flute clutched loosely between his fingers. The wood was warped. It was useless. 

“Wylan?”

Wylan jumped. He hadn’t heard Jesper come in. 

“Oh, is this the famous flute?” Jesper grinned as he sat down in front of Wylan, apparently not caring to question what he was doing sitting on the floor, “Do I get to hear you play?”

“It’s ruined,” Wylan mumbled, without looking up, still running his fingers over the misshapen wood.

He was an idiot. If he had just left his flute in his bag, tucked it safely into its case, it probably wouldn’t have been quite so far beyond repair. It might have survived. But he’d wanted it in his jacket, he’d wanted to be able to feel it and know that it was there for what? He couldn’t even describe the nervousness he knew he would’ve felt in its absence. He had a vague memory of going travelling somewhere once, he didn’t remember where and he’d only been a small child, and checking his bag every few minutes as though all of his belongings might have vanished the moment he looked away. That one stuck out, other than all the other travels he had once been happily - even excitedly - welcomed on by his father, because by whatever age he was then he’d had his first flute and it was sitting in that bag, on the verge of disappearing every few seconds if he didn’t keep an eye on it. Keep it safe and close and in a strange way almost secret. So what? For some stupid sentimentality or foolish, entirely impractical and irrational fear, Wylan had destroyed his flute. He may as well have clung to it so tightly that his fingers snapped it in half, for all the infuriating irony was not lost on him, and he wanted to scream his frustration and his loss. But he just carried on sitting there, running his fingers over the ruined flute, grieving for something that had never been alive in the first place.

“Oh, Wy, I’m so sorry…” Jesper’s voice felt distant.

Wylan just shrugged.

“I shouldn’t care this much,” he whispered, “Not… not about this, of all things this is what’s…”

He couldn’t finish the thought; he just shook his head. The pain in his chest had only slightly released since crawling out of the canal hours ago, and he felt nerves rising as he wondered if Jesper could see his bruises. He had to hold himself back from fidgeting with his collar. 

“Wylan, you’re allowed to be upset about-”

“Don’t,” he whispered.

He couldn’t talk about it. He shouldn’t have mentioned it. Jesper shuffled, but he didn’t say anything. Wylan felt his hand wanting to drift to his shirt collar again and tightened his grip on his flute. Trying harder to hide them was only going to draw Jesper’s attention to the bruises.

“That wasn’t a long shift,” he said, eventually, when the quiet - not silence, apparently there was never silence here - got too much.

“I just sorted out a deal with them,” said Jesper, smiling, “So you weren’t stuck here alone for ages,”

Wylan nodded. 

“Where do you work?”

There was brief pause, before Jesper ventured:

“At a bar,”

He didn;t sound entirely convinced about his own statement, but who the hell was Wylan to call someone out for lying?

“I, erm…” Jesper hesitated, then began again talking so quickly it was like his own words - or perhaps his thoughts - were overlapping each other, “I know someone, who I think you should talk to. I mean - well, he wants to meet you so if you want to - tomorrow, you don’t have to like now, I mean…”

He trailed off for a moment, then said more succinctly:

“You can stay here tonight and I’ll get out of your way, but if you’re feeling okay tomorrow then there’s this guy I work with, Kaz - he’s my boss. He’d like to talk to you,”

Wylan leaned back, feeling tension run through his shoulders.

“Why?”

“He’s hoping you’ll make a deal with him - you don’t have to, okay, but if you just have a conversation with him he might be able to help you out,”

“Help me out?” asked Wylan, raising an eyebrow, “By making a deal? You sure you’re not talking about the devil, here?”

Jesper laughed.

“You might be more accurate in that than you want to be, Wylan,” he laughed again, “But he probably can help you, and you can probably help him. Look, if you just talk to him - and I can be there too, if you want me to - you don’t have to agree to anything. But he might be able to help you make some money, maybe even… I dunno, but he could get you a job, I’m sure,”

The actual practicality of everything hadn’t quite dawned on Wylan until now. He was alone - or almost alone, anyway - in the Barrel, his father had tried to have him killed and may very well believe him drowned, he had no money but a couple of very wet kruge notes, and no skills or methods of income whatsoever. He would have to find a job somewhere; would have to do something to survive. And Jesper had said he could stay here, but he could hardly do that forever could he? He needed money, he needed somewhere to live, he… he needed to at least survive this part, if he would have any hope of ever figuring out the next. 

“Okay,” he murmured, eventually, “I’ll talk to him,”

[akamikazae]

oh my god im dying to know what you wrote for bokami!!

Ah! thanks for asking! <3 I don’t have much, mainly just vague plot ideas and lil bits of dialogue. 

Akami went to Nohebi high school - hehe snek school, Where she played volleyball. Tho she and Bokuto don’t officially meet until their sophomore year of College. Bokuto and Kuroo are college roommates + vball teammates. Kuroo and Akami also have a couple classes tg. Bokuto's trying very hard to get though her cynicism and trust issues. And she finds him and his cringe-fail optimism and thoughtfulness very endearing.  ~I have this lil scene and then some more blabby- plot stuff under the cut

Bokuto cannot help himself, he’s darting around the court like his life depends on it and calling after every ball. A kill, two digs, service ace after service ace. Everytime he so much as touches the ball he glances to the stands, to where Akami is sitting. He needs to make sure she’s watching. This is the first time she’s been able to come and see him, even if it is just practice. He scrambles out of bounds to keep the shanked ball in play.  “Take it easy”, Coach calls. But Bokuto can’t help it. It’s like he’s got the zoomies.   Another kill, straight shot, down the line, three blockers, no touch. He’s amped up. “Nice kill,” Semi cheers. As he goes up to serve.   Bokuto glances over at Akami, she’d brought her homework with her, case files spread out on the bleachers. She’s leaning on her civil procedure textbook, watching him watch her. She gives him a small thumbs up of approval as he continues to stare at her, like he’d been doing all day. He gives one back, smiles big with all his teeth. It is only then that he turns his attention back to the game, the game that had continued despite his own personal pause. The ball is spiked by his teammate directly into Bokuto’s face. The gymnasium rings out in a chorus of “ooohs.” The whistle sounds, giving the other side a point and ending the rally. Bokuto is doing his very best to play it off like it didn’t hurt and that he’s perfectly fine despite the nosebleed and the ‘Mikasa’ logo imprinted on the side of his face.  “You okay?” Akami asks, cringing at the blood on his t-shirt as he sinks down on the bleachers in the row in front of her. “I’m fine- I’m great!” He says, pinching his nose. Akami closes her textbook, “You don’t look so great.”  They both turn their attention back to the game. “You know, I have a lot of homework, maybe I should finish up at the library.”  “No, no you don’t have to go.” He scrambles. “I’ll be back in in no time!”  “I don’t want to distract you,” she says  “Oh , what, no you’re not distracting me!” “This-” he gestures to his nose, “this is nothing, don’t worry about it, it happens all the time.”  Akami raises her brow, doing her best not to laugh. “You get hit in the face all the time?”  “Yeah--No! I mean…uhh,” He sighs to himself, tipping his head back in defeat, “I’m shutting up now.” He has completely and utterly embarrassed himself in front of her, yet again. He sinks back into the small space between the bleachers, hoping that the universe will take pity on him and open up a crater in the earth to swallow him whole. Or at the very least let him hide beneath the stands.     Akami chuckles beneath her breath and scoots down to the bleacher seat beside him. “Here”, she says, handing him a few napkins she scrounged up from her bag. "and you should tip your head forward." Bokuto perks up immediately, smiling through his embarrassment and thanking her, as if she handed him a gold medal and not some crumpled up old napkins from the dining hall. She rests her chin in her hand, while he takes her advice and stares at his sneakers, nose pinched with the napkins rambling excitedly about how he's been working on back row attacks. Akami can't help it, she smiles back, hiding her grin in her palm. **

— I’m sorry but I can’t have story without some level of angst lol. They date for almost two years, and as they’re getting ready to go into their senior year of College Bokuto gets drafted in the V league. He decides to surprise her with the news, which totally backfires. Akami takes it as a slight, in that he doesn’t consider her in his future. She low-key waits for him to ask her to move with him, but he doesn’t because he doesn’t want her to uproot her life and opportunities for him. She stays in Tokyo, finishing school and working an internship at a law firm, he moves to Osaka. They break up.

Three years go by. They run into each other at hotel. She’s there for the work, he’s there for a game. They decide to try being friends again, because they miss having each other in their lives. She goes to his games when she can or they meet up when he’s nearby or vice versa. She has to go to Osaka for work, he offers—insists— she stay with him so he can show her around the city. She doesn’t have the heart to tell him no, even though she’d been to the city many times. Staying just friends doesn’t last they hookup her last night there, he tells her he still loves her, etc, etc. And they try doing the long distance thing. I haven’t exactly figured out how to keep them tg yet, without one of them having to give up their job, but I am working on it. Okay big ramble over lol ! thanks for asking! And thanks again for giving me them ❤︎₊ ⊹ wip game

[maingh0st]

Would you like to see the series adapted to a live action or animated series?

can I be so real and admit that I honestly don't care? I'm not a big tv/movie watcher to begin with, and I understand the desire to see a story you really love on screen—but books vs. shows/movies are entirely different mediums, and there are always going to be compromises/changes made in the process, and in my experience it just ends up being dissatisfying a lot of the time

if I had to choose, though: animated, 100%

[raayllum]

was thinking about rayla and les mis and (bear with me) concepts of morality and the miscommunication that can come from thinking a morally driven character is one that does what's Right vs the reality of a morality driven character doing what is intrinsically right to them. it's why javert and superman and rayla can all be morally driven characters, but one is a way too fucking intense cop who only sees black-and-white, one's the biggest good guy paragon in existence, and another is an assassin who is very bad at being an assassin, because morally driven characters are usually driven by a motivation to Protect above all else, but who deserves that protection and what they are protecting people from (ie. who is deemed the Enemy) can all vary wildly