#and also I think it's more reflective of the real world

[falmerbrook]

How are the Falmer hitting me with arrows? (headcanons on how Falmer navigate and hunt/fight)

I'm keeping up the Falmer headcanon momentum.

So Falmer in Skyrim (the game) have a blind effect applied to them and fortify sneak. As I'm sure anyone who has plundered a Dwemer ruin has experienced, despite their blindness, those buggers sure can shoot and arrow. As a matter of fact, they have a surprising amount of archers in their communities. There's also a question of how they are able to navigate the often treacherous Dwemer cities filled with dangerous guarding contraptions and tall drops. So here's my thoughts on how they get around and navigate/fight/hunt so well.

Echolocation

You know what other (real life) creature has poor eyesight, big ears, and is able to pinpoint small targets for hunting? Bats.

I like to imagine that Falmer are in the early stages of evolving echolocation. While they don't have the precise echolocation capabilities of bats, I headcanon they can use it to get a general picture of the size and shape of their surroundings, so they can get a decent idea of obstacles, the size of a room/cavern, if there is a gap or cliff, and if an object or creature is moving around. Falmer moving about will use echolocation to navigate (akin to using something like a cane to just detect obstacles or walls), and while on guard or hunting they can use it to scan an area to get a baseline for what the area is like and therefore if something changes within it.

Bats that have evolved echolocation tend to have large ears to better pick up the reflected noises, and strange looking wrinkles and folds in their faces to help reflect or project the sound to the ears better. This could explain the wrinkles on Falmers' faces and the larger ears (I also tend to make their ears bigger than in the games in my drawings for that reason).

That all being said, for your consideration, please imagine if Falmer's faces looked like this:

(Wrinkle-faced bat, white-throated round-eared bat, vampire bat, horseshoe bat, great stripe-faced bat, slit-faced bat)

And if they sounded like this (as I picture it, it would be a sort of secondary noise set alongside their normal vocalizations that we hear in-game):

(in real life, this is more of a noise you can feel in your head than hear)

(this one is slowed and pitched down so we can hear it)

Clairvoyance

I've often wondered (these are the sorts of things I think about while I'm working) how clairvoyance would work in-universe, but I think it could be useful to someone (or a group of someones) who can't see. For those who don't know, clairvoyance is an illusion spell in Skyrim (the game) that shows a blue magical path towards the current objective (quest marker). They way I like to headcanon it, the way clairvoyance works in-universe can vary, but it’s mostly used for giving the mind’s-eye an “image” of the route/location of what the caster is thinking about. It’s like a mix of a clarity of understanding (a “eureka!” moment) and a mental picture. It’s a spell that requires pretty heavy concentration and mental training, since it requires not only casting the spell but maintaining a certain objective in your mind.

Falmer have figured out how to use it to “see” (understand) their surroundings in a way that allows them to fight, hunt, and navigate complex architecture. It’s not a replacement for sight though, just a way of adjusting without it. This is the skill that allows them to use bows with fairly good accuracy. They understand this spell more as a navigational skill than what the above world sees it as (a spell). I imagine they have their own very different system of understanding and classifying magic since they've been so separated from the rest of the world, but that's a post for another day.

While echolocation is mostly used for purely navigating and scanning the environment to get a sense of scale and placement, clairvoyance is used more for a specific purpose, whether that be to navigate to a specific point, navigate difficult terrain, pinpoint the position of a target/enemy, find something (an object they lost, a friend or family member, etc.), etc. While a guard or hunter may use echolocation to scan, they may then use clairvoyance to pin down a potential threat. Usually, unless one is very skilled in magic, they can only focus on a single target or subject at a time using clairvoyance, and it is a learned skill that most individuals have at least a basic grasp on, but only those more skilled in magic can use for complex, frantic, or stressful situations. They don't see it so much as a spell to learn and master, but rather a basic skill of life, like how we may see learning to read and write.

Of course, part of their ability to navigate also just comes down to having been born that way and just naturally learning the placement and arrangement of things in their environment. They don't know what they're missing, and like a blind person or animal, could adapt to it in their own non-magical ways as well. The magic and evolution just help them thrive.

Anyway, thanks for reading another Falmer Post™!!

[mirrorofliterature]

I personally find it really strange when people insist (often cis gay white men) that there is this big black line dividing queer men and queer women.

which is 1) binary and 2) ignores the existence of people who are queer women and men and 3) it is so weird?

queer women and men are all queer people and have much more in common. of course there are differences, but gender essentialism is bleh.

like you see this... tone that some (predominantly cis gay guys, generally white) people have that writing/creating gay men (generally gay, not bi because also frequently biphobes, in my experience) is the exclusive purview of gay men. and it's like, one that's not how the world works (although I understand the instinct) and two, they often go out of their way to malign the 'epidemic' of women daring to write stories (fanfiction) centring gay men (which is statistically likely AND comes with the added bonus of Don't Have To Think About Misogyny).

it reeks with misogyny. there is, of course, a real issue with some women fetishising gay men, but many women writing queer women tend to be queer themselves and it's like...

queerness transcends gender, my dude (gender neutral).

rant brought to you by my hatred of 1) gatekeeping/policing and 2) learning about james somerton

some people treat queer women as 'queer lite' because of the historical lack of criminalisation of queer women (in the sapphic way - trans women have been treated horrendously historically) - in a lot of the western world (because queen victoria didn't believe lesbians existed) and it infuriates me.

[unhelpfulfemme]

...because in this, as with everything he did, there were layers of intent, moments when expected patterns would suddenly dissolve into something else.

This line is about a swordfight, but I feel like this sums up this entire book series, and Laurent's role in it, quite well. There is an internal logic, patterns and symmetries, to everything that's happening, but the moment you think you've grasped them they shift into something different (and as someone really fascinated with dynamic systems I love it). It's like that with the plot, it's like that with the romance, it's like that with the characterization, it's even like that with the worldbuilding through the power of Damen's very biased narration.

And what I particularly like is that it doesn't only get patterns, but it also gets dynamics, because things must be done in the right order, in the right moment, with the right intensity, to have an effect, and interpersonal relationships shift and change as a response to this constant back and forth. And this principle is everywhere: the battles, the politics, the swordfights, the sex, the chivalric tournaments.

He thought of Laurent's delicate, needling talk that that froze into icy rebuff if Damen pushed at it, but if he didn't - if he matched himself to its subtle pulses and undercurrents - continued, sweetly deepening, until he could only wonder if he knew, if they both knew, what they were doing.

^ Like that, for example. Or the way some things have to happen as a precondition to Laurent feeling safe, at first: on a micro level, there must be some token show of dominance on Laurent's part, to which Damen should respond sweetly and unintrisively, before he lets himself go, and on a macro level, the show of dominance before he lets himself go is the entire first half of book 1. You must always do something, which will then change the thing that you're acting upon, put it in the right position for you to do what you wanted to do all along. I love this.

Finally, I'm not a person who's very partial to symbolism. It tends to ruin my sense of immersion when the weather is dreary because the character is sad and the curtains are blue because they symbolize the sadness of the scene, because it always makes me feel like the world is small and unreal and like the writer perceives the world in a deeply egocentric way (I hate antropomorphising; if you have to project yourself onto something to appreciate it, you're not appreciating it. real appreciation requires accomodation, not assimilation). But man the symbolism in this, and the way it intertwines the cultural and the personal, makes me go feral.

The intricate crisscrossing laces of Veretian clothing paralleling the tangled threads of Laurent's mind, both of which require skill and patience to unravel, both of which have both a protective and a stymying purpose, and how they contrast with Damen's straightforward nature, because he is a man who sees beauty in simplicity and seeks to achieve it. The intricate lacing of Veretian clothing also reflecting the intricate, overly complicated way they do everything, which is also reflected in their intricate, overly complicated architecture, and Damen's immediate reaction to all of it. The Akielon philosophy of appreciating things for what they are - striving for measured simplicity in order to appreciate the quality of the fabric, the stone, the body, and how it makes Damen receptive to how artless Laurent gets when he's vulnerable. The man who is an unbeaten champion of the okton, a sport where you have to have the strength and precision and self-control necessary to ace a spear throw while dodging other people's spears flying by you while riding a horse, being the one who knows the right move to make at the right time regarding the saw trap that is Laurent's personality. The man who enjoys having spears thrown at him for fun taking on Laurent's prickliness in a spirit of sportsmanlike challenge.

[puppyeared]

Atla live action 😐

[rotzaprachim]

a wild flavor of tumblr user is a certain kind of white American self id’d leftist or commie who reblogs and posts things about I just think all liberals and centrists should DIE (*guillotine* meme) and then posts things needing to be nicer to demographics that vote 80% Republican and are very systemically involved in the structural and practical oppression of people of color and the whole US hegemony like brooo I get having a seriously messy relationship with your own cultural background but who are you talking about? Guillotining everyone at mawmaw’s thanksgiving?

[bizarreandjarring]

Disco thoughts - tw substance abuse

i've seen a couple of posts which talk about how kim's character is basically a wish fulfillment for somebody with mental health and/or substance abuse problems - he listens without judgement, helps you, and stays by your side. this is very true but i wanted to add my two cents on the fact that it feels the same way from the other end - that harry is wish fulfillment for people who are close to people with susbtance abuse problems.

playing disco has been a super interesting experience for me, i didnt understand the content of the game before i played it, it hit a lot closer to home than i thought it would on many fronts. growing up someone in my family, specifically in the same household as me, had very serious substance abuse issues. there was an attempt to shield me from it mostly, but that just meant that i didnt really understand why and what was happening and the implications of it. it really scarred my childhood and shaped a large part of who i am in a way that i deeply dislike and resent. that person is still in my life now, they are clean and have been for years, but the memories remain. it is particularly hard to have them in my life because aside from anything that happened in the past, they are a huge bigot, with a huge ego, and have a lot of problems empathizing with others and being nice for once and not a giant asshole.

it feels so stupid to say that part of me will always be angry at them because they never even apologised? they wanted to move past everything that happened so bad that they never said sorry, never acknowledged my pain

anyway, to get to the point, this is why harry really came across as wish fulfillment for me personally. he's big and drunk and stumbling and smoking, saying the wrong thing all the time, outbursts at any second, he's done bad things, he's coming down and he's miserable. i know that man. i've known that man for a long time now. i hate that man and i love him almost against my own will. but unlike in real life, in the game (depending on how you play) you can have him say im sorry, you can make him get clean and really stay that way. you can have him be nice to kids and help them start a stupid dance club and make friends and make amends and really fucking try. and that was cathartic for me on a level that i wasnt really prepared for. after i thought about this it made me understand why i sympathised with jean so little. in my mind, if you have an addict in your life this is the dream scenario! why is jean so angry doesn't he know how good he's got it?! obviously the two situations are in no way 1:1, but i couldnt help thinking that if that person in my life turned around tomorrow and said - im sorry, i fucked up and hurt you, im going to do better, im going to be kinder, maybe there is something in this world for me other than hurt...

well fuck i'd take it, i'd hold onto it for dear life

TLDR - harry can be wish fulfillment for people who have people in their lives with substance abuse issues. HDB lives inside my heart and he's telling me to chug cough syrup but im ignoring him

[bulkyphrase]

Have you made a Slave Steve Rogers rec list yet?

(Like the institution of slavery and not the kink)

Ooooh--I haven't, but I'll definitely add it to the ideas list! Glancing over my bookmarks there are a couple Roman gladiator stories and a few noncon/dubcon porn fics that come immediately to mind.

[diamondnokouzai]

horror is most effective when the government participates in it. this is the reason that dystopias are so popular.

[ink-of-a-thousand-currents]

Mmm I definitely have Thoughts on site lore and Ancient lore. And I mean, for the most part I (as well as many people) use site lore more as Inspiration/Building Blocks for further lore building.

I've been meaning to get around to writing lore for my Clan and in general, so. I guess I'll just make some notes on the current Ancient Lore and what I think and where I'd go.

Deciding to put this under a read more since it's a lot more than I meant to write lmao

Gaolers - Part of this being because they were the first, and therefore had the most hype around their introduction, but so far lorewise Gaolers still have probably the most impactful story. Them being forgotten by modern society makes sense; withdrawn, a small population of creatures that never evolved into their softer modern counterparts. Which is another thing that makes Gaolers stand out; they're the only Ancient with an explicit connection as being ancestors of one of the Modern breeds. The whole This Thing Is You But Older, More Primal And Dangerous is just. Soooo good. Gaolers as a design have grown on me recently, so it definitely generates some ideas.

Banescales - BANESCALE LORE. BANESCALE LORE. My favorite of the bunch, but this is partially that I am someone who loooves music. The idea of Banescales having been a musical society, and now all that remains is the song that was left to their children as they protected their eggs... god it's just so beautiful to me. Plus the parallel to how Coatls ended up having a notably musical language... The idea of the Flamecaller mourning her first children and passing on their gift. The Coatls and Banes bonding over this similarity. I love them, I need more Banes.

Veilspuns - I'll be honest. I don't remember anything about the Veilspun lore. Legitimately. I love Veil's designs but their lore just Did Not Stick. I'll have to go reread it and probably rebuild it somehow lmaooo

Aberrations - Okay, I also kinda forgot this one, but they literally crawled out of the Wyrmwound, right?? Like, sort of had a "cast away by their god" type of thing? Failed experiment energy? Idk if that was actually what happened, but it's the take I'm going with.

Undertides - They felt betrayed by their god so turned their back on him, and then reintroduced themselves to modern society upon the Surge in the Elements. Cool! Interesting! I think this could be very cool to explore, especially with the modern members of Water Flight who have effectively been abandoned by Tidelord (as far as we know. Dad come back.) Also, strong ties with a specific sect of Maren! Neat! Not as potent of lore to me, maybe, but it's interesting and has potential. Execution was ehhg but I can work with the concepts.

Aethers - I love their lore yes its stupid yes its goofy and I adore them for it. If I go through with my lore crafting I'll keep all this because the other Ancients having cool and fucked up lore next to these dumbass sparkly floofs is hilarious to me.

Sandsurges - Okay I DID. Think the "pay" bit in the story was funny. But I do think a "cooler" take could have been done, with Sandsurges having a better reason to have been unknown to modern dragons aside from "They were underground all along" whsgsgs. I think you can combine the best of both world by saying they return upon seeing the exploitation of modern Lightning society, and the building of something Big and Dangerous, with allusions to this having been done in the past and having had consequences to Ancient Sandsurge society... AKA, they're here to teach the young'uns about unions.

Auraboas - Okay, so. The issues have been brought up several times, and most of us are aware at this point. I can see the angle they were going for, for a sci-fi-esque hivemind tyoe of situation. I also don't necessarily disagree with the decision to make it Nature. While Arcane might make more sense for sci-fi themeing, I think choosing a different Flight makes it a little less on the nose. In any case, I think the concepts are there, but were executed very poorly and with a decent dose of "ignorance and tone-deafness." I think the story specifically should have treated the elder Auraboas with more compassion for their fears for their children and difficulty in communicating with modern dragons. Way less infantilization, and more "person struggling with a language they barely know, reaching out to someone they never would have otherwise out of desperation." (By this I mean I think they could have written the difficulty in communicating far better than they did). The Loop is interesting as well, though very hard to grasp as a concept. This is partially on purpose, and partially because I kind if think staff purposefully left some things vague because they didn't actually want to try and figure out how the concept would work, lol (which I can't entirely blame them for, especially since with Site Lore sometimes less is more, allowing for multiple interpretations by users).

Another note: in both the recent Lightning and Nature ancient stories, they're both stated and/or heavily implied to have already been known about by certain dragons In The Know, so to speak. I have some mixed thoughts on either, and might incorporate them differently. Sandsurges as sort of secret workers was a little funny and backed up the Weird Shady Company Execs thing, but it could be interesting to make it a sort of, deliberately covered up because We Can't Have Them Teaching The New Hires How To Unionize!

As for Auraboas... Not really sure. I can see them being a culture that has been largely self-reliant for their existance, hence the lack of contact with modern dragons. But, given their connection to the Behemoth (and maybe a connection that could be elaborated on), maybe they've appeared or collaborated with moderns in the past over threats to the Behemoth. So, mutual knowledge, but no sustained contact since it was A) difficult and B) outside of curiosity, most on both sides saw little reason to establish further contact. A sort of living alongside one another but never really talking, like neighbors you see sometimes but don't talk to. It's only the disruption of the Loop in the younger generation that both kickstarts a greater Need to connect, but also a bridge for easier communication.

[devilofthepit]

my final paper for gender studies is about white feminism in buffy which is so interesting to me and i've been reading so many academic articles about it and been watching so much buffy lately that it's just a hyperfixation at this point. except gender studies is my best class and i should really worry about all my other finals lmao

[marinehero-a]

     once again thinking ab au’s where garp actually acted during ace’s execution </3

[moinsbienquekaworu]

Oh my god is today Thanksgiving??

[pbaintthetb]

2k in to my falsettos fic (WHYGODWHY) and I suddenly remember my thought about this being 2 fics and i was like nah it's fine it can just be long but I REMEMBER WHY NOWd;alkjdf;al

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 2 - Adjustments

Summary: You're struggling a bit in your adjustment to your new life, and you're finding some of them are easier to get along with than others. Luckily you're not in it alone.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, let's be real this is so unrealistic but it's a/b/o you're not here for accuracy.

Author's Note: I'm so just overwhelmed with the attention this fic has gotten, but not in a bad way I promise! I'm just surprised is all. Thank you everyone that has read and reblogged and commented. I love all of you and so, since I have no self control, here is Chapter 2. Lots more world building and dialogue in this part, but I promise good stuff is coming.

Also I promise Soap will get his time soon. He's just the hardest for me to write, and you'll see why in this chapter.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

“She was lying.” 

Price doesn’t bother looking up as a dark figure leans against the wall next to him. He stares out at the empty space between the barracks and the mess hall, not much traffic between the buildings during this time of day. 

“About how she got to the institute.” 

“Or at least not telling the whole truth.” Price says, turning to look at Simon. “Something tells me she’d talk if we asked.” 

“She’s soft.” Simon says, letting his gaze drift off into the distance. 

“She’s a civilian.” Price counters. “The CIA did a little training, but she’ll need some work. We can’t leave her completely defenseless...” 

Simon turns to face him again. “There’s something else.” 

Price pushes himself off the wall, heading back inside. Simon follows, the two of them making their way down the hall to his office. “There’s hundreds of American military bases across the world, thousands of regiments they could have chosen from, and yet, they sent her to us.” 

Simon closes the door behind him as Price sinks into his desk chair. “You think it was deliberate?” 

Price pulls open one of the drawers, pulling out the file Kate had given him. “Laswell said the CIA has had eyes on her for years.” He slides it across his desk to Simon. “There’s a lot of why's in this situation, and a lot of how’s. Like, if what she’s saying is true, how did a Staff Sergeant get his daughter into FIOT practically overnight?” 

Simon glances up at him over the top of the file. “You think there’s something else going on with this Initiative.” 

Price nods. “I do. I think there’s more than one experiment being run, and we’re the guinea pigs.” 

You stare at your reflection in the mirror as you run a comb through your damp hair. You look tired, the dark circles that have plagued your face for the last few weeks looking even darker now. It’s been a long day, so long it’s hard to believe it’s only been a matter of hours since you boarded the helicopter in London. 

Your new pack had made themselves scarce after dinner, leaving you to your own devices. You had been left alone after lunch too, and you had spent that time laying in bed, resting after the overwhelming scenting. 

You’d played back the last few hours in your mind. Leaving London in the helicopter, meeting your new Pack Alpha, Laswell leaving, meeting your new pack, the scenting. You had plenty to think about, to stress over, and you had been surprised when the knock came at your door for dinner. You were equally surprised to see Gaz and Soap waiting for you. 

You’d been sandwiched between them again as you walked to the mess. It was busier for dinner, and the eyes weren’t quite so quick to look away with the alphas missing. You know they have to be curious, with an omega on base following around two members of a SpecOps team, smelling like them. You know what they were probably thinking of you, what they were thinking your presence means. 

You’ve begun to understand Price’s rules a bit more. 

Price and Ghost had joined you as Soap said they would, coming in late from whatever they had been busy doing. You had been seated next to Soap, Ghost taking his other side while Price sat next to Gaz. It hadn’t gone unnoticed to you how close Soap and Ghost sat, and you remembered the look in Ghost’s eyes when Soap had approached to scent you. How his defensive stare had turned icy, threatening even, when he’d gotten close to you as if you were capable of hurting Soap. It had been a silent warning. If you tried anything, you’d have him to contend with. 

Ghost is territorial, more so than most alphas. You had seen it just a bit in Price, but only because you had been watching for it. Ghost was silent in his claim, but his gaze spoke of his territorialism. As you sat at the table with them, you slowly felt the stares lessen, the curious alphas and betas around you slowly turning away from your table until you were left in peace. You knew it was all thanks to a well-pointed glare from the second alpha at the table. 

They’d escorted you back to the barracks before disappearing again, leaving you alone. You’d opted for a shower to try and clear your head, exhaustion weighing heavy in your limbs but your mind was racing too much to really get any rest. You haven’t been told what their normal schedules entail or even what they look like, but you expect an early morning tomorrow. Since Price had said at least one of them needed to escort you around base, that likely meant you were going to be constrained to their schedules. 

You know even when they’re not away, their days are probably full of training and briefings, much like yours had been for three months. They’re probably up early, earlier than you’d like to be, and then they go non-stop all day. 

You wonder if they ever get a break. 

Maybe this is a break for them. 

You sit on the edge of the bed after you finish your routine, eyeing the pillows and blankets stacked at the end. They’re military issue, not as soft or as plush as you might have preferred. This is your new normal, though. Comfort isn’t exactly going to be a high priority. 

Tears prick your eyes as you run your hand over the comforter. You know it’s the exhaustion, the stress of the day beginning to weigh on you. You’re worn out, and that’s causing a slip in the tight reins you keep on your mood. Omegas and alphas were both prone to being moody, and those who were unrestrained could lose control quickly. Alphas were quick to anger, while omegas could get depressed very easily. Exhaustion drives both to being grumpy, though alphas will descend into irritability and anger, while omegas will get whiny and weepy. 

You hate it, how easily you can be driven to cry. How easily you can lose control. It makes you feel weak and helpless, but that’s partially by design. It was supposed to be your pack’s job to fix that, to give you that support and take care of you. 

Except you don’t know your pack. 

What would they do if you approached them like this, all teary and needy? Would instinct take over and snap them into their roles? Or would they give you an awkward pat on the back and leave you to take care of yourself? Gaz would help you, you think. He had slipped into that role so easily during the scenting. Your fingers twitch on the bedspread, your mind telling you to seek him out, track him down, even if it’s only to catch a whiff of his scent again.  

Your phone screen lights up where it’s sitting on the nightstand, drawing your attention from the door. Kate had given you the phone just this morning before you left the hotel. It had her number on it, as well as your pack’s. You’d half expected to find messages already from them when you’d turned it on, but there had been none. They had kept that boundary of meeting in person first. 

You pick up the phone, checking the message. It’s from Price. 

Breakfast is at 0700. I’ll take you to see the Omega Specialist after. 

Seven o’clock. It’s not terribly early. You’d eaten around the same time at the institute. You’ll get to meet the Omega Specialist as well tomorrow. You’ve met plenty of them in your time as an omega, but something about the idea of having someone there who knows, who understands is comforting to you. 

You send a reply in acknowledgement for tomorrow’s plan before setting an alarm for tomorrow morning. There’s an uneasy feeling under your skin, a tickling in the back of your mind that you can’t seem to relax. Your eyes are drawn to the desk where the shirts still sit, and before you know it you’re moving to the desk, letting your fingers trail over each one. 

You grab Price’s shirt, taking it back to your bed. You curl up with your back facing the door, holding the shirt against your chest, letting the scent of tobacco smoke and whiskey fill your nose. Silent tears slide down your cheeks, your face pressing into the pillow to muffle your sobs. 

As you try to muffle your tears, you miss the sound of boots pausing in front of your door, the person on the other side standing there for a moment before continuing down the hall. 

You let out a groan as your alarm pulls you from sleep. You had drifted in and out for a few hours before finally managing to get a couple precious hours of sleep. You’d woken when the others got up. You knew they were trying to be quiet but you had heard them shuffling around, talking quietly amongst each other. You’re normally a fairly deep sleeper, but in a new place you always struggle. 

A new place surrounded by almost complete strangers. 

You turn off your alarm, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. They’re burning a bit, the exhaustion still weighing heavy on your shoulders. You pad to the bathroom, splashing cold water on your face to try and make yourself at least look more alive than you feel. The last thing you need is them getting worried about you. That’s attention you’re not sure you want right now. 

You blink sleepily at your closet, trying to decide what to wear. Were you allowed to wear anything? You didn’t have much besides the basics, since the only thing you had been allowed to wear at the institute was its uniform and the clothes they provided. Then when you were with the CIA, they had provided clothes for you to wear as well. The things you have now had been bought by Kate before you left D.C. 

Everyone on base wore similar variants of the same uniform. You’re not military, though, so you don’t think those rules apply to you. No one had said anything about your state of dress yesterday. You opt for comfort, knowing you’d likely find out soon if you were going to be forced to dress differently too. 

You’re tying your shoes when the knock sounds on your door. You had heard the others moving around, footsteps in the hallway, opening and closing doors, quiet voices talking and Soap laughing at something. You know it’s one of them, yet the nervous tickle at the back of your head is back. 

Soap is leaning casually against your doorframe when you open the door. His face lights up in a smile as he sees you. “Morning, bonny. Sleep alright?” 

“Yeah.” You shrug. “Tossed and turned for a while.” 

“We didne keep ye up did we?” He asks, his smile faltering just a bit. 

You shake your head. “No, I never sleep well the first few nights in a new place.” 

“Well, our beds are always open if ye need something more comfortable.” He winks at you playfully. 

Your face warms at his words, the double meaning not lost on you. You were right, Soap was going to be the one to push your boundaries the most. 

Gaz elbows him in the ribs as he passes. “She’s been here a day, mate, don’t go scaring her off now.” He leans on the other side of your doorframe, giving you a smile. “Morning.” 

“Morning.” You say, your face still warm from Soap’s teasing. 

“You hungry?” Gaz asks. 

You nod. You do feel hungry this morning, likely a side effect from your emotional night last night. You step out of your room, the two betas stepping back to give you space as you close the door behind you. Ghost is leaning against the wall next to his door, his eyes watching with the typical cautious disinterest that seemed to be his default setting. 

Gaz and Soap sandwich you between them again, close enough their arms brush yours as you walk. It was almost as if they could sense your inner turmoil, the neediness still tugging at the back of your mind. If Ghost hadn’t been trailing the three of you, you might have been tempted to give in and grip their sleeves, or slip your hands into theirs. How would Ghost respond to such a bold move? The mental image of your body flying through the air as he punted you into next week almost makes you laugh. 

Price is already seated at a table frowning at his phone over a cup of coffee. Gaz and Soap load up your tray for you, something you’re getting used to rather quickly. It was expected from the alphas, or at least Price, to coddle you a bit, but it seemed the betas were more than happy to get in on it as well. 

The thought makes something flutter in your chest. 

You’re seated between Gaz and Price again once you reach the table, Price greeting you with a tired smile. “Morning. Sleep alright?” 

“Not really.” You say honestly. “New place and all. I’ll settle in eventually.” 

“Maybe the Omega Specialist can give you some ideas to help.” He glances at his watch before looking at you as you spoon a heaping spoonful of porridge into your mouth. “Take your time. We have until 8.” 

You listen to the conversation at the table as you eat, Gaz and Soap talking about a football game that’s on tonight. You feel eyes on you, your skin prickling a bit. You glance up, half expecting Ghost to be glowering at you again, but his gaze is focused on his eggs. You cast a quick glance around the mess, turning slightly to look behind you. 

Three tables over, you find the gaze of some soldier focused on you. You haven’t paid much attention to anyone else on the base, but then again you haven’t had much time or reason to yet. You can’t read the expression on his face as he stares at you, but you feel a shiver run down your spine as your eyes meet his. 

He stares at you for a few seconds before his gaze moves slightly past you, quickly dropping back to his plate. You turn around, finding Ghost staring just past your head. His eyes are narrowed, his scent coming off stronger than it had been. You can practically see his hackles raised, the warning clear in the air. You feel the urge to curl in on yourself, the threatening aura radiating from him makes you want to cower. 

It doesn't go unnoticed by those at the table either. 

“Easy, Ghost.” Price says calmly, Gaz turning to follow his line of sight. 

“Bloody wanker.” Ghost grumbles before rising from the table. 

You turn back around, but the soldier that had been staring at you is gone. 

You nervously pick at your sweatshirt sleeves as you sit in the plastic chair next to Price. You’re still on edge a bit from what happened at breakfast. It wasn’t so much being stared at that bothered you. After now three meals in the mess, you’ve almost come to expect it. It’s Ghost’s reaction that has your mind still reeling. 

“I’ve always hated the medical center.” Price says with a sigh as he leans his head back against the wall. “It smells too sterile. Makes my nose burn. Reminds me of too many close calls.” 

His words jar you a bit. You hadn’t even thought about that aspect of his job. He’s used to getting shot at, to getting into fights, running head first into danger that would send most running the other way. You wonder how many times he’s been the one with the close call, and how many others he’s had to watch have their own. 

You wonder how many times he’s had to make that trip to tell someone’s family. 

You’re pulled from your thoughts as the door across from you opens. Price pushes himself to his feet, and you follow as a kind looking woman steps out. You breathe a quiet sigh of relief. You don’t have anything against male Omega Specialists, but you were already surrounded by men. Sure you have Kate, but she’s half a world away. 

She’s tall, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. Despite being a doctor she’s dressed casually, no white coat or gloves to be seen. Her eyes are light green and crease in the corners when she smiles. 

“Hello, I’m Dr. Keller.” She introduces herself, shaking Price’s hand. 

American. You think, silently breathing another sigh of relief. Kate really had pulled some strings with this one. 

“Captain John Price.” He says. 

You introduce yourself when she turns to you, shaking your hand. Her voice is soft and gentle, the scent of beta coming off her in waves. 

“Come on in,” She says, leading you into the office. “Sit anywhere you like. Make yourselves comfortable.” 

Her office isn’t what you expected either. Instead of the harsh fluorescents, the lighting is softer, warmer. There’s paintings and posters all over the walls, along with several plants. There’s a desk covered in books and paperwork in one corner and a bookshelf with several books packed into it in the other. There’s a couch on one wall, and a couple plush looking chairs on the other. 

You move to one of the chairs, sinking down onto it. It envelops you in softness, and you feel as if you might sink into it and never be able to get out. After a day of hard plastic and stiff blankets, it nearly makes you weep. 

Price takes the chair next to you, Dr. Keller sitting on the couch across from you. The office smells good, a light, neutral scent in the air aside from the pure almondy scent of beta. 

“Alright,” She says, holding a tablet and a stack of files in her lap. “I always like to start by introducing myself and telling you a bit about me, then we’ll get into the important stuff.” 

She jumps into telling you about herself. Where she grew up: California. Where she studied: UC Berkeley. What institute she did her residency at: West Coast Training Academy. Where she worked last before Kate called her in: some poor inner city institute in LA. 

“Now, on to the more important stuff.” She says, turning on the tablet. “I got your medical records yesterday. You’re quite the healthy girl.” 

“Yes ma'am. I have good genes. That’s what my mom used to say.” You respond. 

Dr. Keller smiles. “Hardly even been sick. Your heats are all normal, too, correct?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” You say. “Except for a three month stretch two years ago.” 

“Yes, the heat sickness epidemic that hit America.” She says. 

You nod. “FIOT locked down completely and everyone was supposed to quarantine, but I heard a rumor that it was one of the beta food workers. She snuck out to see her alpha boyfriend and brought it in with her. We only think it was her because she disappeared not long after the first omega got sick.” 

Dr. Keller hums. “I know not everyone was so willing to take it seriously. You made a full recovery, though. No lasting side effects, I’m sure thanks to the state of the art medical facilities that FIOT keeps.” 

“Yes, ma’am. We were lucky it was just a mild case.” 

“That is lucky.” She flips through something on the tablet. “Your lab results all look phenomenal. I like to do checkups monthly, just to ensure everything is working as it should. I know the CIA gave you quite the cocktail of vaccines while you were with them.” She turns her gaze to Price. “Captain Price, I’ve sent in a request for your team’s vaccination records as well. I’m sure you’ve had everything under the sun, but I’d like to ensure there’s no risk of any accidental exposures.” 

“I don’t see a problem with that.” Price says. “If RAMC gives you any trouble, just let me know. I’ll get them for you myself.” 

“Thank you, Captain.” She says. “One last bit in this part and then we can move on. I see FIOT issued an implant before you left, as is standard practice.” 

You nod. “Yes, ma’am.” 

“Good. You’ve had more than enough time for it to take effect so we won’t have to worry about any accidental slip ups during your next heat.” 

Your cheeks warm at her words a bit. You’ve been trying to avoid thinking about that inevitable side of things. 

“And your next heat is roughly six weeks away.” She says, looking at the calendar. “Don't be surprised if it comes a little earlier now that you’re being exposed to alphas again.” 

Your stomach twists nervously at that thought. It was common for heats to be triggered early after exposure to alphas, especially after such a prolonged period without exposure to them. It wasn’t likely to start tomorrow, but you knew it could jump a week or two due to the natural pheromones alphas put off, and the instinctual call for the alpha/omega bond. 

“You’re planning for the claiming to take place during the heat?” Dr. Keller asks. 

“Yes, that’s the plan.” Price says. 

“That is the most natural time for it.” Dr. Keller says. “Of course, it is always up to omega preference in the end.” 

You don’t miss the way her eyes dart to you for a second. 

“Now that that’s over with,” She says, putting the tablet to the side. “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to do this next part with just the two of us.” 

A beat of silence passes before you realize she’s asking you. Her eyes are on you, and so are Price’s. She’s asking you. She’s asking you what you want. 

“I-I guess...yeah.” You stutter over your words, not quite sure how to answer. Is there a wrong answer? Would Price be upset if you said yes? Would Dr. Keller be upset if you said no? Your eyes turn to Price, trying to gauge his reaction. 

“It’s up to you.” He says softly. “We’re here for you.” 

You sit up a little straighter at his words, nodding your head. “Y-Yes. That’s okay.” 

Price pushes himself to stand up. “I’ll be right outside.” 

The air inside the room seems to lighten as he leaves, Dr. Keller reclining back on the couch as the door clicks shut. She pulls out a stack of papers and a pen before she looks at you. Your palms are sweating, and you’re starting to think you’d like the chair to swallow you whole. 

“This next part can feel a bit personal, but I just want you to know that everything you say in here is as confidential as you’d like it to be. Captain Price is right. I am an Omega Specialist, I’m here for you. I’m not just a doctor, I’m here to help you in all aspects of being an omega. I know FIOT teaches a lot, mainly obedience and compliance. I want to make it clear that you can be honest with me.” She holds up the stack of papers. “No one is going to see these papers but me, alright?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” You nod. 

“You don’t have to be so formal with me.” She smiles. “You can call me Dr. Keller, or Doc. You could even call me an evil bitch if you want, it won’t phase me any.” 

You can’t help the small smile that forms on your face. 

“I’ve got some questions I’d like to ask you. They’re a sort of tracker to measure how well you’re settling in and bonding with your new pack. I’d like to meet once a week until your next heat just to see how well you’re settling in. After that we can meet as often as you’d like. Sound good?” 

You nod in approval. It sounds like a lot, but you also know you’re going to have a lot of downtime, even with your pack on base. 

“Alright, let’s get started. How are you settling in? I know it’s barely been a day, but I want to know how you feel here.” 

Your heart begins to pound in your chest. How do you feel here? How do you feel after being pulled from the institute and taken to a training facility where you found out you’d be moving halfway across the world to be a military pack’s omega. 

This wasn’t what you had expected when you reached the age where you became an available omega. Most omegas at FIOT came from rich, powerful, important families and your purpose there was to be groomed into the perfect omega to return right back to that world. 

You thought you would be chosen quickly. You had expected it. With your scores and your high ratings and your status, you were what most alphas dreamed of. Yet, the years had passed and though there was some interest, nothing had ever come of it. You weren’t alone in it. There were others like you, those who excelled at being an omega, but then seemed to stall in the selection once they came of age. 

Of course, now that you look back on it, you can’t help but think it might have been done on purpose. The Omega Initiative was new, you had been told during your first briefing explaining why you were taken to a remote building somewhere outside of D.C. and greeted not by your new pack, but swathes of CIA agents. Military packs were nothing new, but they wanted to utilize the naturally formed packs and make them stronger and more stable by adding in omegas. 

Only highly skilled omegas were considered for the program, but of course you had no say in whether you were going to partake or not. They chose the omegas and they decided where you would end up. 

It wasn’t that dissimilar from being chosen from an Institute. At FIOT there was a screening process packs had to go through to be determined eligible to have access to omega files. Then the pack would have to send a neutral emissary, usually a beta, to meet the omegas in person and choose on behalf of the alpha. Most institutes don’t have that strenuous of a process, and some don’t have a process at all. In some, alphas themselves could walk in and choose an omega without even so much as a background check. 

Omegas never got a say. As soon as you were handed over to an institute, the ability to choose was taken from you. Whoever your caretakers were as a pup signed over their rights to you and the institute became your legal guardian. They dictated your life up until you joined a new pack. 

You had hoped it would be someone rich. If nothing else, you’d get to live a cushy life and you’d never have to worry about anything. When they told you what was really going to happen to you, you had almost cried. You did cry, late at night curled up in your bunk after hours of training and briefings. 

Kate picked you for this pack specifically because she knew them and she knew you could handle them and their world. 

Maybe if you had been worse at being an omega, things would have been better for you. 

Or maybe they would have been worse. 

“It’s...different.” You finally say, picking at your sleeves again. “But in a lot of ways, it’s similar to The Institute. It always takes me time to settle somewhere new.” 

“Me too.” Dr. Keller says, writing some things down. “And with the time change, it’s just so much harder. I feel like I should be in bed right now, but it’s 8 AM. Have you started nesting?” 

You shake your head. “No. I don’t even feel the urge to.” 

“That’s fine.” She says, writing something else down. “In truth, I’d be more concerned if you were.” 

Your eyebrows raise a bit. “Why?” 

“During an adjustment period for an omega, especially in a new pack, there can be something that happens called false instincts. The sudden urge to nest, a drive to bond with pack members too soon, false heats. It’s usually brought on by a sudden change in environment, like when omegas are taken from a place where they’ve spent sometimes years with no exposure to alphas and are suddenly thrown into a space with a lot of alphas. It’s more common in larger packs where you have alphas, betas, and other omegas.” 

“Could it happen in smaller packs?” You ask. 

“It’s possible, though rare. It can cause some serious issues down the line when those instincts are actually supposed to begin to show up, like adjustment sickness. I’d say if you’re starting to feel the urge to nest or bond before the first week is up, then come talk to me, alright?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” You nod. 

She smiles, turning the page. “How far have you gotten with the bonding process?” 

“Just the scenting yesterday.” You answer. 

“And how did that go?” 

You pick at the loose thread on your sweatshirt. “Fine. It was...overwhelming.” 

“They can be.” Dr. Keller says. “The new members of your pack, how are you getting along with them?” 

“Fine, I guess.” You shrug. “I like Soap and Gaz. Price, he’s...he’s nice, and Ghost...” You trail off, not sure how to answer. If she’d asked before breakfast you might have said he doesn't like you. He doesn’t want you to be part of his pack, but after what happened at breakfast...

You can’t be sure he did it for you. He could have thought that soldier was staring at Soap or Gaz or even Price. He could have thought the soldier was staring at him and was annoyed with it. He had scared off the stares at every meal you’d eaten together, but how often did they get stared at? You couldn’t know if that was a daily occurrence and he was just growing sick of it. 

He could be annoyed with you because you’re drawing in the stares. 

“I don’t know what to think about him yet.” You answer. 

She writes something else down, going through a few more questions with you. How is your appetite? How are you sleeping? Are you taking care of your needs? Do you have any concerns? 

Before you know it the hour has passed and you’re walking out the door into the fluorescent, sterile hallway of the medical center. 

“Remember, you have my number. If you need anything, I’m here for you.” Dr. Keller says as you part ways. 

You walk with Price out of the medical center, glad to be out in the fresh air. It’s not particularly warm, and the sun is hidden behind a layer of clouds, but it’s better than the medical center. 

“What do you think?” Price asks as you follow him back to the barracks. 

“I think it went well.” You say, mind still reeling from an eventful morning. You’re beginning to feel your restless night. 

“Do you like Dr. Keller?” He asks, probing a bit. 

You nod. “Yes, sir. She’s nice.” 

“Good.” He says, opening the door to the barracks for you. “I have to leave to oversee training for the next few hours.” He glances at his watch. “One of us will come get you for lunch.” 

You nod. Of course you’d find yourself alone again between meals. You’re beginning to notice a pattern. “Yes, sir.” 

His hand is warm as it settles on your shoulder, squeezing gently. You’re surprised by the touch, as small as it is. Were they too fighting the urge to get close to you, like you had this morning? 

You can still feel the warmth of his hand even after it’s disappeared and he’s gone. You head for the rec room, deciding to avoid the constricting feeling of being shut in your room for the time being. 

The TV is on when you enter, but the room is empty, playing some morning talk show. You move to the bookshelf against the wall, letting your eyes scan the titles. There's a surprising lack of military-based books shoved into the packed shelf. Of course there's a handful of old manuals and handbooks, nothing that you're particularly concerned about needing to read. You let out a sigh, standing on your toes to reach a Brandon Sanderson novel. 

You look around the room but the remote for the TV seems to be missing, and it’s too high on the wall for you to reach the power button, so you leave it on, curling up on one corner of the couch as you begin to read. 

You’re not sure how much time has passed when something moves in your peripheral. The sun has come out briefly, shining in through the windows. You look up from the book, suddenly feeling very small under Ghost’s gaze. His eyes are narrowed as he stares down at you, a thousand things flashing through your mind. Are you in his spot? Is this his book? Had he come to the rec room hoping to be alone and here you are infringing in his space? 

“Come on.” He says, his voice rougher than it had been this morning. “Lunch.” 

He’s already turned and heading out the door as you scramble up, leaving the book on the coffee table as you hurry to catch up to him. His steps are quick and wide, and you find yourself having to almost speedwalk to keep up with him. 

Your thoughts are jumbled as you follow him out of the barracks and off towards the mess. Why would they send him to get you? Was he the only one available? Yesterday they had time before lunch to return to the barracks, or had that only been because of you? Or were they perhaps hoping this might offer a chance for the two of you to bond a bit? 

Or were they entirely blind to Ghost’s disinterest in your existence? 

Perhaps they were used to it. After so long together, perhaps they just thought it was normal. If you were brave enough to bring it up, would you get a “oh that’s just how he is” in response? 

You can’t see the others as you enter the mess, Ghost leading you to the line. He stands behind you like a hulking shadow, his scent covered by the smell of gunpowder and sweat. You fill your own tray for the first time, grabbing things that look appetizing. You’ll have to get used to it eventually, even though the others insisted on doing it for the time being. When they’re not here, you’ll have to do it yourself. 

Ghost leads you to an empty table, and you opt to sit across from him. You begin to eat, taking big bites to avoid the need for conversation, not that you really thought Ghost would strike up a conversation with you. Your eyes flicker around the room nervously, glancing over the entrances time and time again, waiting for the others to arrive. 

“Stop twitching. They’re on their way.” 

The words cut straight through you and you snap your head around to face Ghost. He’s got his mask pulled up to his nose, your eyes immediately drawn to the exposed pale skin. There’s light stubble on his chin. You remember how that had felt on your own skin when he’d scented you. He’s blonde, you think, or at least has light hair judging by the color of the stubble. There’s a scar on his chin, almost hidden by the stubble. 

Your face warms as you realize you’ve been caught in your nervous fretting. Of course, you should have known he would take notice. There’s not a lot they don’t notice, you think. Though, when your survival depends on noticing even the smallest detail of anything or anyone...

You jump as a tray is set down next to yours, your eyes snapping up to see Gaz with a smile on his face. You turn back to look at Ghost, his mask pulled back down but you see a slight shake to his shoulders for a second.

Was he...laughing at you? 

Your attention is drawn from him as Gaz takes a seat next to you, sitting close enough his arm is almost brushing yours. Price and Soap taking their usual spots as well. You’re beginning to pick up on the patterns that existed around them, and their own patterns. Perhaps that will make it easier for you to fit yourself into their lives. You knew from the start they weren’t going to change to fit you into their lives. They couldn’t. You were going to have to find a way to fit into their lives. 

Gaz walks you back to the barracks after lunch, abnormally quiet as he watches you warily. He walks you to your door, leaning on the doorframe as you step inside. 

“You alright?” He asks, big brown eyes shining with worry as he looks you over. 

“Yeah.” You nod, shifting on your feet. “Just tired. I think I might take a nap.” 

He nods, and you’re sure he doesn't quite believe you, but he doesn’t press any. “Alright. Happy napping.” 

You close the door as he leaves, sinking down onto the edge of the bed with a sigh. It’s been a long day and it’s only lunch. Between the probing questions from Dr. Keller and the few minutes you had spent alone with Ghost you feel exhausted. It was good to know you weren’t entirely broken in your lack of nesting instincts, and perhaps your turmoil with belonging in this place wasn’t quite as abnormal as you thought. 

What to do about Ghost.

He’s said more words to you today than he did in the entirety of the previous day. In fact, you think today might be the first time he’s spoken to you at all. You know he doesn’t approve of you, and you’d go so far as to say he doesn’t like you. You can imagine he fought the hardest against you being added to the pack. They were fine without you. It didn’t take a genius to see that. 

You’re an outsider. A civilian. A risk. 

An unneeded disruption to their lives. 

You pull your phone out of your pocket, staring at the dark screen. You know Ghost might never accept you. He won’t want to claim you, he won’t mate you, but...perhaps you might just get him to tolerate you. 

You unlock your phone, sending a quick text to Kate. 

“Can you get a book for me?”

You regret your decision momentarily as you step into the rec room. Gaz and Soap are lounged on the couch, beer bottles open on the coffee table. The TV is playing ads, their attention on each other. You almost feel as if you’re infringing upon a private moment as they laugh, half tempted to race back to your room and hide until your hunger draws you out or someone breaks down the door to get to you. 

“Hey!” Gaz’s face lights up when he sees you, Soap turning to look at you.

“Hey, bonny!” His face lights up with a smile. 

“Do you mind if I join you?” You ask, shifting nervously on your feet. 

“Not at all.” Gaz says, patting the empty spot on the couch next to him. “You want a beer?” 

You shake your head. “No thank you. Never could get past the taste.” 

Soap throws his head back as he laughs, slapping Gaz’s shoulder. “I keep tellin’ ye!” 

“Yet you keep drinking it!” Gaz attempts to defend himself. 

“Cause it’s th’ only thing we got!” Soap argues, leaning around Gaz to stare at you. “So, ye a football fan, bonny?” 

“Well, I watched the World Cup a couple times as a kid.” You say. “My household was more of an American football and baseball household. Two of my older brothers played soccer, though they never were very serious about it. Mostly just did it to fulfill my dad’s physical activity extracurricular requirement.” 

“What did you do to fulfill that requirement?” Gaz asks as he takes a sip of his beer. 

“Softball. I was...not good at it.” You laugh. “I could catch and throw, but I don’t think I hit the ball a single time I was at bat.” 

Both of them chuckle, turning back to the TV as the ad ends. “Don’t worry, we’ll turn you into a proper football fan yet.” Gaz says. 

You watch the game with them, and it doesn’t take you long to realize they’re rooting for opposing teams. They explain things to you here and there in between yelling at the TV and each other. Despite how loud they are, you find yourself relaxing further and further, the tension from the last two days easing away, even as the two betas yell at each other over a soccer game. 

Gaz tenses for a second as he feels a sudden weight on his shoulder. He turns his head slightly, noticing you’ve fallen asleep, your head drooping onto his shoulder. His lips quirk up in a smile as he gently nudges Soap. 

“Wha?” Soap asks, turning to look at him. 

He jerks his head to the side, leaning back just slightly so Soap can see. A grin breaks out on the younger man’s face and he pulls out his phone. “Aww, look a’ that. Think we should wake ‘er and get ‘er tae bed?” 

“Nah.” Gaz says. “Let her sleep for now. She probably needs it.” 

You sleep soundly through overtime, Gaz not moving until the post game is over, letting you sleep as long as possible. He knows you have to be tired, after the last few days and the time difference. You looked tired today, with dark circles and droopy eyes. He hates to wake you, but he knows you can’t sleep on the couch. 

He nudges you gently, trying to rouse you. “Hey.” He nudges you again, your head finally lifting off his shoulder. 

You blink sleepily, rubbing at your eyes. You make a quiet sound in protest of being awake, eyes drooping closed again. 

“Come on, love.” He says, keeping you upright. “It’s time for bed.” 

You cover your yawn with your hand, blinking at him sleepily. “Bed?” You murmur sleepily, Gaz smiling softly at how adorable you are in this state. 

“Yeah, you’ll be more comfortable in bed.” He pushes himself to stand, hands on your arms to pull you up. 

You make another sound in protest, nearly falling against his chest when he gets you on your feet. He wraps an arm around you, letting you lean on him as he guides you back to bed, Soap cleaning up the mess they had made. 

You’re more awake once you get to your door, blinking up at him with bleary eyes. “‘S fun.” You murmur, rubbing your eyes. “Should do that more often.” 

“You’re always welcome to join us.” He says. “Get some rest. You’ve had a long week.” He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Night, love.” 

He waits until your door is closed before heading back down the hallway towards the rec room, a small smile on his face. 

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Writing Character CHANGE

Character development is absolutely CRUCIAL to a story, but having spent more time thinking about this topic, I came to the realization that I misunderstood a lot of points other people have made when teaching how to write character development.

There are a lot of factors that play into character development, but in this post, I'll cover some overall, but the main thing concerns any change to your character! (Which is also a huge part in development, really.)

So with this post, I'll be teaching you MY personal tips regarding this subject!

*The Basics*

Before we really get into the developmental stage, there are some things you want to establish, in which I'll explain later!

A couple of flaws.

How your character views themselves at first.

Your character's morals/ideals and how they think.

These things may vary, but you want your readers to be able to at least roughly predict how your character will act during specific events!

*Change*

Character development is just about how your character changes throughout the story. I like to say that there are several different ways one may change, (we'll get into that later on) but your character should NOT stay the same as the same person during the exposition and during the resolution!

"During character development, your character should grow."

This is a common piece of advice; your character needs to grow. And while I've assumed for the longest time that I understood what it meant, it never truly clicked.

While they will use words such as grow, what they really mean is that your character should mature. By the end of your story, your character may not always end up as a better person. When I say mature, I mean that they have reflected back on their life and have understood the consequences that came with their actions (if any) or how they could've done things differently.

Your character will not always end up as a better, fixed person, but they should understand their world and themselves better.

*Negative/Passive Change*

Alright then, so how does a character develop if they don't necessarily change for the better? Well, I'll get into that!

No matter what, your character should have learned a lesson through their experience. Even if they haven't exactly improved as a person, there should be a moral they can learn from what they have gone through.

If not, then did they really grow?

Additionally, how did their qualities negatively impact themselves? If they are bad traits, then it needs to be clear. And the best way to achieve this is by demonstrating how it hurts your character! However, it is rather uncommon for a character to undergo little to no change after a story!

*Positive Change*

Let's circle back to the basics, real quick. Remember how I said that before any development takes place, your character should be anything but perfect? That same thing applies to after the change.

Do NOT create a flawless character by the end of your story. Instead, focus on one or two flaws that get fixed as the story continues. These don't have to be huge, life-changing imperfections, but they can be minor ones that still shape their life in one way or another.

"Fixing" too many shortcomings can make your character seem, well, out of character, producing a character development that's more forced. The same thing applies if you're attempting to FULLY alter a fault that's just too big. The change will be too noticeable.

What am I talking about? Here's an example!

Imagine a character who's incredibly closed off to other people, wanting to ensure that he never gets too close to others.

That's a pretty sizable flaw, no? By the end of your story, you do not want to completely change because you need to preserve character, but you can change it a bit. Does he have a few friends now? Does he understand that there are some people worth trusting?

He may still be closed off to majority of people, but at least it's not everyone, and that's a realistic change.

*Different Changes*

As I continue to read more stories and watch more shows, I have realized that character development is not always about fixing flaws or personality, but it can extend far past that line.

So listen up, because I feel like no one really talks about this.

Your character can change their IDEALS, MORALS, and how they VIEW THEMSELVES.

Hear that? If your character has strong morals, they will hardly stay the same as they reach the end. Remember the requirements I mentioned at the beginning?

See how it connects now? There is SO much more to character development than changing a few imperfections. Like I said in the start, your character needs to grow and mature. Things like new morals or ideals assist with that!

*SUMMARY*

In order to start character development, you need a couple of flaws, an idea of how your character looks at themselves, and their morals. This is because those are the main parts of you character that may change through time.

Growth = Maturing (gaining a better sense of who they are and the world they live in.)

NOT ALL CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT IS POSITIVE!

For negative or passive change, make sure to clarify how their imperfections affected or hurt them and have some sort of moral that follows.

YOUR CHARACTER SHOULD NOT BE PERFECT!

They should not be perfect in the beginning, and not perfect in the end! Do not 'fix' too many traits because you want to preserve character.

I think that's all! It's quite the post for something so simple, eh? But hey, character development is absolutely PIVOTAL to a story so I hope I at least explained the 'change' part of that well!

Happy writing~

3hks <3

[danyllura]

Something I found very interesting about the Barbie movie was the Ken’s mimicking of patriarchy. I’ve seen some comments putting it as a stance of men’s inherent desire to oppress women but would argue it much more reflects the socialization process many young boys experience that encourages them take on misogynistic views. The kens do not resent the Barbie’s. They’ve grown up in a society the Barbie’s run and the adore and love them. I think you could say that reflects the early stages of life for many boys where often the main role models they know are women, their mothers (as they often have a more involved role than fathers) and eventually their teachers, which women still make up the vast majority of early childhood educators.

The Kens also notably lack a sense of brotherhood at the start of the movie. And it isn’t until they’re in the real world our main Ken experiences positive male attention and approval (which is only due to him also being a man). It is that desire for approval from his male peers that initially drives him to believe in patriarchy.

There is of course also the underlying struggle of his unrequited feelings for Barbie, but none of the kens truly resent the Barbies. They don’t actually want them as oppressed servants. Yes they want their attention, but even during kendom we see them happiest on their cheesy guitar playing group date. They begin oppressing Barbie’s not because it’s what they actually want but rather it’s them mimicking the behaviour of men.

And that is why I think it makes such a great ode to the socialization of young boys to be misogynistic. Boys do not have an innate hatred for women, nor is it something they naturally grow into of their own fruition. But rather it’s a patterned of learned behaviours they in most cases initially mimic for the approval of other men or to gain attention, but overtime becomes a very real ideology then adopt and believe in and likely pass on.