Magical Items And Cursed Artefacts That Are Currently Being Used For Something Else Than Their Intended

The fight of the century

CANON 2x!!

Alberu: Please, I'm begging you go to a doctor.

Cale: I'm sorry is this 'OUR' stab wound? Stay out of it.

Part 1

Cale sits on Alberu’s bed.

This… feeling, of his memories and feelings all contradicting. It’s a little disorienting.

His hands are dirty, but he knows they’re clean. He could lay down and roll around on the princes bed, but his memories show a blatant disregard for what the prince thinks about what he does, yet he knows that he has respected and cared about the prince for a long time-

So what is it? Does Cale secretly respect him? Is his disregard an act? No, it’s not. Disrespect is… a way to show respect? To hide his respect?

Cale develops a headache. There’s a lot of new information in his mind, rolling around like a thunderstorm, and it’s really starting to hurt.

His hand caresses the side of his head, and he aims his face into his lap, a frown forming. It… hurts.

It hurts.

Hopelessness drags on his new and good emotions. It hurts. He- he hates pain. His hands tremble.

Alberu watches Cale, unsure what could’ve happened to cause him to start crying. With a shaky mind, Alberu walks over to the frozen child sitting on his bed, making extra sure that his footsteps create noise. God, scaring a child? Scaring Cale? That would be a nightmare. He wouldn’t know how to handle it at all.

Despite Alberu’s desperate wishes, Cale is deep in his subconscious, overwhelmed by a self-induced headache.

So when Alberu reaches over for the boys shoulder (like how Cale would comfort everyone), Cale flinches. Hard. He throws his body to the side of the bed and pulls his arms up to his chest, staring up at Alberu’s figure.

Now, the Prince isn’t stupid. He knows what a flinch means, what it implies. Then why- he fumes- why is Cale of all people showing these responses? How bad did he have it in Korea?

So, while Cale lies on the bed and stares, Alberu decides that he’s too tired to deal with this. This is incredibly annoying. This is- fucking depressing. He hasn’t slept for two days and suddenly being forced into babysitting duty is grating on his nerves.

He walks away to order the nearest servant to deliver cookies to his room, while he starts to brew tea. When the boy on the bed has a clear head and Alberu has some more strength, he’ll consider asking what’s wrong.

Bringing the tea over to the bed, Cale stares at the cups.

“Dongsaeng?” Alberu sits on the bed next to Cale, who stops laying down. “Do you like sweet tea still, even when you’re like this?”

Cale pinches his lips together. Forgoing a verbal response, he nods his head to the question and starts to reach out.

‘Dirty’

‘Careless’

‘Irresponsible’

His hand freezes, and goes through a dozen calculations. Should he ask to grab the cup? He wouldn’t normally do that, no. Should he act more like an ignorant child, not as mature as he feels? Should he ask what he should do?-

Alberu watches the emotions that flit across the young face. They are all incredibly subtle, as if he’s used to being so insecure but hiding it underneath a layer of confidence. Alberu relates to it on an uncomfortable level.

He almost expects the kid to ask if he should take the cup, but Cale firms up his face and decides to disrespect the Crown Prince anyway by grabbing the cup and taking a big sip of it.

Good, Cale reasons, looking at Alberu’s face. He’s not mad, like he predicted. He’s learning the limits of the people he trusts because, while he’s in this different body and has this smaller mind, people will react unpredictably. Anticipate violence, prepare for rejection, and accept whatever he can get his hands on. His old lessons from when he was a kid float into his mind, and they provide a comfort that none of his older memories have given him yet.

They sit in silence, sipping on tea and observing each other. The other children are disturbingly quiet, but they aren’t crying or angry. They’re just… watching. Raon seems to be the most restless, while On and Hong wait from a distance.

Those three children recognize the signs of abuse the most. Ever since he opened his eyes, they could see it all. The hesitation. The fake confidence. The awkward tense-relax-tense game that Cale is playing in his mind. Like he’s trying to convince himself that he’s in a safe place, but it’s so hard to believe that he instinctively goes back to base one whenever he succeeds.

They’re going to launch their ‘attack’ in a few minutes, but only after cookies. A servant quietly brings in a tray, keeping her eyes very specifically on the desk she needs to leave it on. Raon still turns him and the kittens invisible for the brief time she’s there, but she looked so focused that she probably wouldn’t have seen them had they been sitting right next to the crown Prince. On applauds her in her mind.

Cale keeps his mouth shut. The last thing he should do right now is talk. He knows when he isn’t welcome, and while the (fond?) exasperation from the prince is not quite the same as Cale is used to, it’s close enough. He plans to stay quiet and do nothing. It’s dangerous to think about anything else.

What if he ruins his companionship with Alberu forever? That would be- bad. For when he’s able to be big again, of course. It would be… what’s the word?

Inconvenient.

Cale doesn’t feel 7 years old anymore. His mind has been growing, in a weird way. Like he’s subconsciously fighting against the curse by maturing his mind at a faster rate. He can think a little more clearly, analyze a little more precisely.

He finishes his tea and puts it down. He’s tired.

‘Dirty’

‘Disgusting’

‘Filthy’

He looks down at his hands. He turns his palm over, examining it. He sighs in relief. Clean. He’s clean right now.

He’s startled by a red ball of fur pressing its face into his open palm.

“Hong?” His voice is soft, open just like his palm.

Hong purrs, and Cale falls for the distraction. He sets out to pet the kitten who is so innocently asking for them.

All of a sudden he hears Alberu shout from his side and a flash of black streaks across his vision. He looks up, but then On has transformed into her human form and the 12 year old body is stronger than it should be, with how easily she grabs the 7 year old and throws him by the pillows.

Cale barely finishes bouncing from being thrown when he gets crushed by Raon.

“Human!”

Cale opens his eyes and looks up at the blue eyes peering down into his soul. “Raon…”

Raon cuts him off, resting part of his weight on Cale.

“We’re having naptime! Majority vote! You have to sleep, human!”

Cale frowned. He hadn’t had any cookies yet.

Raon interprets him wrong, and suddenly Cale is being thrust into Alberu’s arms. “Adults are always the best at cuddling! We’re leaving you to our most experienced member so you get the full package! Alberu, don’t let Cale go.” His words leave a chill in Cale’s body, and he resists the urge to shudder.

Then he realizes that Alberu’s arms had really tightened around him. Cale squirms, because, what? Why can’t he just cuddle with the kids?

The answer becomes abruptly clear. Cale, smooshed against Alberu’s chest, surrounded by two human cats and a dragon who insisted that he lay on top of the pile- discovers that, while Raon could use magic to restrain him, the human with long arms is just more effective at restraining people comfortably.

Cale pouts. He didn’t get any cookies.

Ron, Beacrox, and Choi Han arrive at the princes room. Ron was worried about him, while Choi Han was concerned that he wasn’t adjusting well. Does he feel safe? Has he eaten? Is the fact that they aren’t in Korea making it difficult? Meanwhile, Beacrox is just angry at a lot of things right now.

They found the demonic worshipper, but after torturing information out of him, they realized that Cale is in the Demonic God’s hands now. Killing the demonic worshipper doesn’t even break the curse.

They had run into Bud and Glenn while investigating, naturally. The merchant king had offered all of his resources to track down the culprit, which helped somewhat in finding him. Glenn offered them a quick teleport back to the palace, and they accepted.

“Young master-“

“Cale-nim!-“

“My friend! Sob!- um?”

Ron, Choi Han, and Bud speak all at the same time. They all pause however, at the sight of Raon glaring at them intensely. A transparent black shield covers a lump of bodies, and Glenn recognizes it as a soundproofing spell. He gets goosebumps at the mana swirling around the rest of the room dangerously.

Choi Han felt stunned. It has been a long while since Raon pointed his wrath at anyone in their family. What happened?

Ron then smiles, a chill covering the room instantly. “What are you covering, little dragon?”

Raon uncharacteristically stays silent. He looks like a real dragon at this moment, all cold glares while he drapes himself over his hoard.

Then Choi Han puts the dots together. The Crown Prince is missing, documents unfinished. The kittens can be vaguely seen on the side of the pile that Raon is laying on, and if he’s correct-

Cale is in the center.

Choi Han’s eyes sparkle at the opportunity in front of him. Bud takes a careful step away from him, but he’s not paying attention to that.

Choi Han loves small cute things. What’s more cute than a bunch of his favorite, small cute people (minus Alberu, who isn’t small, that he suspects is in the back) in a big cuddly pile?

Cale murmurs in his sleep, feeling an icy chill on the back of his neck. Someone’s plotting against him.

He becomes unsettled, pushing lightly against Alberu’s arms in protest to the sensation. Alberu, who has fallen into an incredibly deep sleep, just tightens his arms. Cale decides to ignore the feeling, after getting that slight ‘scolding.’

His mind, which had become around 9-10 in the short time that he had been thinking intensely, quiets. He allows himself to be comforted, and doesn’t notice the way his mind falls into that of a 8 year old during this nap.

He breathes softly, falls deeper into his sleep, and can’t feel the curse settle over his mind.

Choi Han fails in his attempts to sway the dragon to let him see. Raon, smarter than your average 6 year old, understands what Choi Han wants and what Cale wants, and that Cale should get what he wants right now. Privacy. Raon becomes even more determined to protect Cale while he’s in this younger state.

He’s vulnerable.

The dragon in him growls at this. Everyone in this pile has been abused. He doesn’t know much about Alberu, but he saw the understanding glint in his eyes, so Raon determines that the Crown Prince is also under his protection.

Do the people outside their bubble understand that? Do they think that his human just happened to land in the middle of the pile, blocked from the world’s eye?

Raon huffs at Choi Han’s antics, ignores Ron’s vague threat, and summons a second shield over the soundproof one, this one solid and not transparent.

The human told Raon that it’s okay to be selfish. He wants to hold their little group closer right now, and he doesn’t want to share.

Cale flinches in his new, deep sleep. Raon lays his head back down on the pile, using magic to keep his human the perfect napping temperature.

He curses that he can’t do more right now.

Reaction fics are a beloved trope of LOTCF fanfiction, but let me pose a challenge to the concept. Rather than a god deciding to show the audience Cales life as a punishment/gift for the future/to help them in some way, what if it was instead just a godly whim?

The reason they are there is incomprehensible. It doesn't make sense. The god either won't explain, or doesn't care to. The scenes they're shown are helpful in some ways, but not in others. Why are they here? How do they get out?

I'd like to see a reaction fic where the goal of the audience is to leave. They neither want nor need to see the deep, dark depths of their leader. And they will never, ever accept something without knowing the intentions behind it.

This is better if there's another driving force behind why they are desperate to leave. Someone is missing (Cale?), something is happening on the outside (something important), or they're getting signs- hints- figurative or literal writing on the walls from the previous participants in this game that don't spell a happy ending for what comes after this. Something is behind this, and that something doesn't truly care about them.

No one to assure them, "if you just watch his life, everything will be fine." Or when it is assured, the audience fights back. The god assured them, again, they just have to watch. Watch and understand. But they find ways to get out- they have to be dragged back, one by one, into that theater room. It should be fun to watch them analyze the manners of their leader or his backwards thinking, except it isn't. They keep fighting against it. Why are they fighting? Something that isn't human could never understand.

It's an idea I had based off our own manipulation. We write reaction fics for our own amusement. We want to force these characters into a box and make them react to Cale. We are a god that does this- not to help them, not to give a gift to them- it is for our amusement. It's fun to watch them react.

But isn't it out of character for them to not fight back? With biting words and violent actions? These characters don't simply allow themselves to be beaten into submission. Coerced into bowing their heads. We'd have to tie them to their chairs and make them sit and watch. And that's something I see in a lot of reaction fics too.

Usually the best way to keep these characters in place is via the Cale Method. Cale is injured and has to heal, it's a price he has to pay, he's being threatened, etc. It'd be cool if there was something else forcing them down like muzzled dogs. Just my thoughts though.

*anyone is free to run with the ideas from this or any idea built off of this (with no credit)

**but I'd love to be sent anything like it

Random things I keep forgetting about -

Cale is the mysterious priest that will show up in the Whipper and Paerun kingdoms history

Eruhaben is a swordmaster

Bud is also a swordmaster

Bud has a smelling ancient power

Ogcale! Still had the soul of a regresses (Now will he regress as krs or Cale)

Ogcale! Still has the soul of a Thames making him a hunter

Choi Han will become a god

Raon is a dragon lord

*Cale is technically a saint of death

*Cage has healing powered and is also technically a holy maiden

*Mary is technically the queen of death

*All 3 of them refuse said titles

To some degree’s Taylor and Cage have hit on Cale

Cale when around choosing high rank officials, this includes at least 2 emperors

Cale smells like nature, so like a forest or something

Princes Alberu will live a long life compare to humans so he plans to retire in Endable

There is a penguin tribe

These are just some fun things I forgot about and am just catching while re-reading. It’s fun to see how the characters progress and just see thing and be like “oh yeah that was a thing!”.

Like remember when Cale first meet Clopeh? He pretended to be some holy entity send by god to burn a lake just to fuck with him. Like why （＾∇＾）

Or how some of the dragon sayers are bffs with dragons!

I think my favorite part about the whole Toriel confronting Kris about the pie scene in the beginning of chapter 2, is that fact that Toriel isn’t the least bit concerned that Kris just owns a knife for personal use. She’s just like “ah yes my child’s knife that they keep around” which tells me that Kris has probably never once actually used the knife to be violent towards others or hurt themselves. They just like that knife and carry it around for pie eating purposes.

TBOAH Headcanon

Cale is so trustworthy because he’s very good at payment. Exchanging “equal” goods, even if they may not seem equal in his eyes. He sees his own priorities as more important and naturally thinks that he’s ripping off the other person, when actually they are likely benefitting as much or more as Cale himself. Even in something like emotional stability or feelings of safety and security. He doesn’t always give visible benefits, and helping them out is usually not inconvenient for them. In a similar way, his tasks aren’t usually inconvenient, and the benefits he receives are for the future and inconceivable to anyone without context.

He has very low empathy, in that regard. In most regards, actually. He can sacrifice himself, and manipulate people, and use his glib tongue, but his actually empathy is extremely low. Even when everyone is openly concerned for him— he doesn’t recognize it. It’s “weird.” “Disturbing.” He gets put off by people looking at his with admiration, because, he doesn’t feel like he did anything amazing? He just said a few well words? Why is everyone looking at him like he just something profound?

He’s smart, but he can’t easily connect to outsiders feelings. He does and says when he wants to— and predicting the outcome is his specialty— except when it comes to positivity. He prepares for the negative, he anticipates it.

He just… doesn’t understand how to comprehend when it’s not seeing him in a bad light.

Isekai

The story this world was created for didn’t pan out, but I still love it. So I sent a visitor from our world to this one, who is not delighted to find that instead of a clear conflict between good and evil, she is confronted with something very different.

#

The priest led the way into the great hall. “It is strange to me,” he said chattily, “that you do not know the gods. Surely there is no place so far that the gods do not hold sway there.”

The stranger cleared her throat. “I do not… know that I do not,” she said carefully. “By other names, or seemings, perhaps… but I would know them as you know them.”

“Ah, I see. Yes, that I can understand.” The priest smiled. With his long grey hair and beard flowing over a white robe, he looked like a small, spare saint himself, genial and contented. “Then I will tell it to you from the beginning.” He walked up the length of the hall, and gestured to the two statues that stood on either side of the great altar, with the gold-leaf sun and hammered silver moon on the wall above it.

“There are eight gods,” he said, and his voice settled into the cadence of one repeating an old teaching. “And no one of the eight stands alone, but always as one of a pair. First among the gods stand Elu and Surm, whose aspects are those of Life and Death. There are those who say that they are the parents of the other gods, and others who say that they are only the oldest, but all that the others are springs ultimately from them.”

“I see.” The stranger looked up at the statue on the left, who stood by the golden sun. “Elu… life… is perhaps the one I know as the Mother.”

“Yes, for all life comes from a mother.” The priest nodded, also gazing up at the statue. It was beautifully crafted, perhaps twice as tall as the stranger, a vivid portrayal of a woman of middle years, with the rounded belly and hips of children borne, the plump limbs of health and plenty, lines of wisdom and of humour on her face. She wore a loose robe, and a crown of leaves and flowers on her long hair, and fruit and grain filled the basket in her hands. “Elu brings life, and all that lives, from the greatest beast to the smallest, from the richest fruit to the smallest seed, from humankind to a flower that blooms and dies in a single day.”

He turned to the other statue, Surm. This was a man, also of middle years, but he wore armour, and carried a bow in his hand. “And Surm, her opposite and equal, who closes the circle. Where there is life, there must also be death, and Surm rules over all forms of death. He is a warrior, and a hunter, and also a healer, as is Elu, for the healer stands between life and death. Surm is the ending, as Elu is the beginning, but in truth they are the two halves of a circle, for from death life comes again, and from life death is born.” He gestured up at the sun and moon. “Elu is the first of what we name the sunward four, and Surm of the moonward, for the sun and the moon, like the gods, are a pair, opposite and yet united.”

“I see. Who comes next?”

“Of the other three pairs, the order in which they stand varies. They are all of equal status and importance, as gods, but in different times and places some may take a greater hand than others.” The priest moved back a few paces. “Here, the second pair are those we call Kord, the sunward, who represents order and creation, and Kaos, the moonward, who represents chaos and destruction.”

The stranger looked from Kord, a statue of a man holding a chisel and a measuring rod, his robes perfect, his braids as straight as the rod, to Kaos, a woman all disorder, from her wild curls to her ragged motley to her very pose – while Kord stood erect, Kaos was dancing, one foot raised, ribbons flying about her. “Good and evil?” the stranger asked, frowning.

“No, order and chaos.” The priest frowned too. “All the gods have their aspects of both good and evil, of course. Elu creates life, and she is the mother of the devouring wolf or bear just as she is of the lamb or the kid. Surm brings death on the battlefield, but also peace after long life and ease after suffering. Kord is the god of order, of precision, of law and of rule, of measurement and of numbers. But Kord is a sterile god, and life does not thrive under his governance.” He turned to wild, laughing Kaos. “Kaos reigns over destruction, it is true, but not all forms of disorder are destructive. She is the song of the bird and the frisking of a foal as well as the destruction of the earthquake or the tidal wave, and she rules over weather both good and bad. She also rules the human heart, its loves and hates, and she brings both joy and sorrow.”

“I see.” The stranger did not sound as if she saw, but she looked thoughtfully at Kord and Kaos before they moved on to the next pair.

“On the sunward side, Sugulahna, the neighbour, the kinswoman, the ally, the friend, the loyal one.” This statue was young and vigorous, with a cheerful smile. She wore a simple tunic, and held out an open hand. “Sugulahna is the goddess of unity, of trust, of loyalty. When she stands with her brother Kord, they watch over cities and towns, and places where many people must live together in order and harmony. With Kaos, she signifies love and friendship, the ties of family and the bonds of loyalty. In her benign aspect, she is generosity and faith. But turned aside, she is the selfish partner, the treacherous lover, the ungrateful child, the usurper and betrayer. She is all that is best and worst in those around us.”

“One who can give great pain and great joy,” the stranger commented.

“None can give greater.” The priest nodded solemnly. “And on the moonward side stands Vu’uras, who is often called ‘the Stranger’.” The statue could hardly be called a statue, exactly, for no face or clear form could be discerned under the enveloping robes that might as easily have covered a clothing-stand as a human figure. The only sign of the body underneath was a single slender hand extending from a sleeve to clasp a traveller’s staff. “The Stranger is the Other, the traveller, the foreigner. The Stranger, when standing with Kord, is the diplomat, the envoy, the spy. With Kaos, the chance-met helper or kindly passer-by… or the bandit. The Stranger is sexless and unknowable, and yet the Stranger delights in the sharing of knowledge.”

The stranger smiled slightly. “Like me. A stranger chance-come, who knows nothing but wishes to learn?”

“Indeed, just like.” The priest moved on to the last pair of statues. “Here you see, on the sunward side, Teadmised, who is the god of knowledge and learning. Teachers, scholars, and the wise are all in his domain, and he is said to have created all means of record-keeping, from wall paintings and lore songs and tally marks to the written word.” He beamed up at the statue. Like the priest, Teadmised was an old man, long-bearded and a little stooped, with a lean, kindly face. He was wrapped in a long robe with a stole, and carried in his hands a scroll and a brush. “Teadmised is the god of wisdom. His benign aspect brings invention, and art, and joy, but his reverse is deception, and error, and lies.”

He turned to gesture at the moonward goddess. “This is his sister Salahdused, who rules over mystery, and secrets, and the unknown. Vu’uras and Surm’s realms both overlap with hers, for death and the stranger both partake of the unknown. Salahdused is the hardest of all the gods to understand, by her very nature, and thus is most often the one distrusted, or considered ‘evil’ as you put it.” He patted the base of the statue. It portrayed another hooded figure, but unlike the Stranger’s, this hood did not conceal a slyly smiling face, and the sleeves of the robe fell back to show slender arms, one hand raising a lighted lamp, the other cradling a wrapped bundle against her hip. “Certainly the unknown can be dangerous, and secrets can wound. Her domain is darkness and the sea, hidden caves and deep water and secret places, all dangerous to humankind. And yet she is also the goddess of luck, which is its own kind of mystery. She can bring ruin and betrayal and death, but she is also the unknown friend, good fortune unlooked for, and aid when all hope is lost.” His voice softened. “It is Salahdused who brings misfortune, and hope, and to whom we all turn at last, with curse or with plea. And when her father Surm comes, to guide the dead onward, it is Salahdused who holds up the lamp to light the way.”

“A goddess we all need, though we may not always be grateful.” The stranger looked up and down the lines again. “They are *all* the known and the unknown, are they not? On the sunward side, in the light of day, stand Life, Order, Family and Knowledge. On the moonward side, Death, Chaos, the Stranger, and Mystery.”

“Yes, exactly!” The priest sounded pleased. “Not many people see that, without being told. That is why they are ordered so. Some people think it is because the sunward are kindlier, but it is not so. It is only that they stand for what we understand. And under the moon, which waxes and wanes, stand the gods who rule over the unpredictable and unknown.”

“Most people… where I come from… equate light with good, and darkness with evil.” The stranger tugged absently on her braid. “But your gods are… more complicated than that.”

“Good and evil are not real things,” the priest said simply. The stranger looked at him, and he smiled gently. “I do not mean that they do not exist, but they are not… of the world. Birth, life, is real. Death is real. They exist, they have substance. A measuring rod or the wildly rolling debris of an avalanche are real. Family is real. Strangers are real. A story or a written word are real things, as are the sea and caves and deep water, be they understood or not. And all of those things may bring about good or evil, depending on circumstances. They can be used for good or evil. But good and evil are not, in themselves, real things.”

She nodded slowly, looking at the gods. “So to you… good and evil are in the effects. The aspects. The intent. Not… powers, in themselves.”

“Yes, you understand.” The Priest bent to pick up a dead leaf from the ground, which might have fallen from a shawl, or blown in through one of the high windows. “Take this leaf. If it fell on a stony street, it might grow wet, and slip under a foot, and cause injury or death. If it fell on barren ground, in its decay it would render the ground a little less barren. Here on the floor of the temple, it might cause additional trouble to a sweeper… or provide a priest with a timely example, thus doing me, and you, good.” He smiled. “But the leaf’s nature does not change. It is just a leaf. How, in its falling, it affects others… that depends entirely on circumstance.”

“I see.” This time, she sounded as if she did understand, and she took the leaf and held it gently. “And what of people, priest? Are they not good or evil?”

“Of course they are. Mostly one, or mostly the other, or more often a mixture of both in some degree.” The priest shrugged. “But that a matter of choice, and of intention, and even then it is very rare that an action does not have effects both good and bad, whatever the intention. To come upon a man robbing another man, and to intervene – well, from the point of view of the man who was being robbed, that is a good action. From the point of view of the robber, it is a bad one.” He smiled serenely. “As the proverb says, the storm that sinks a ship may bring rain to the fields.”

The stranger was silent for a time, seeming to consider, and the priest waited patiently. When at last she spoke, there was a note of frustration in her voice. “I have never known a faith, or gods, so adamantly to set their faces against certainty.”

The priest laughed. “Oh, if it is certainty you want, Kord is in accord with you. He loves certainty. One will always be one, and a square will always be a square. An arch correctly made will not fall, and a law followed will bring order. There’s great comfort in certainty! But certainty is the enemy of growth, and invention, and change, and so Kaos dances through Kord’s order, bringing destruction and growth and change.” He folded his hands over his belly and looked up at the sun and moon on the wall, his voice gentling. “I think that what you are seeking is not certainty but simplicity. An easy answer. The good and the evil. But what is real is never simple, and the gods least of all. All we mere mortals can do is the best we can, with what we have.”

The stranger sighed. “I know that you are right,” she said. “But the other would be easier.”

“It is not the responsibility of the gods to make your life easy,” the priest said, a little tartly. “It is the responsibility of the gods to make life possible. The rest is your own affair.”

How to write a negative character arc

Here’s the simplest way to break down the building blocks of a negative character arc in your novel!

Here’s the A-Z on negative character arcs

It’s totally possible to pull off a negative character development, for ANY person in your story, whether that’s a side-character, villain, or the protagonist.

Here’s something no one tells you, but it’s actually fundamentally simple.

You can do this with a very easy formula. Typically, a positive arc means that you set out with one main character flaw/issue, which that character overcomes by the end of the story.

So all you need is:

a flaw your character NEEDS to overcome

a goal they WANT to achieve

For a positive arc, they’d succeed at their NEED. Then maybe their WANT as well. For a negative, they simply never fulfil their NEED.

This means they never overcome the flaw they are supposed to face. In fact, they ignore it so confidently, it becomes a PROBLEM. They will never truthfully own up to their mistakes.

This is where you can let it get worse, let it develop into fatal flaw, and let more issues arise from it. As for their WANT? They’ll usually put their external goal above everything else, and dig themselves even deeper into personal disarray, where they won’t recognize themselves any longer.

If you need a hand getting started on your novel, we have 3 coaches at The Plottery who can work with you intensively for 4 month to skill up your writing and help you finish your first draft.

Apply through the [link here] or below!

the-plottery.com

1:1 Writer Book Coaching

Power Plotter is a writer's coaching program dedicated to helping you finish writing your book and become an expert in novel plotting! You'l