Summary: A boy born of the moon, a girl cursed with a cruel past, and a bowstring between them.
Word Count: 1,607
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He let go. The string released the held tension. The arrow pierced through the air, until it struck dead center of the bullseye, joining the eight others adorning it.
Kubo breathed, satisfied. He lowered his bow, releasing the tension in his arms and shoulders, as he exhaled. His aim stayed true today.
Light clapping came from the side. Nearby, a pale, dark-haired girl was seated on the steps of a storage hut, smiling from ear to ear – the source of the clapping. Kubo couldn’t stop himself from rubbing the back of his neck. At least his cheeks weren’t warming up again.
“I already said, no need to clap everytime, Aggie,” he said, tacitly smiling.
Kubo couldn’t follow up with anything but a blush. The village had only recently stopped the unnecessary and incessant hero worship of him after his defeat of the Moon King, and then came Agatha, a strange girl from a far off land, wandering through in the midst of an inexplicable fog, bringing back all that attention with her. It never ceased being equal parts flattering and embarassing.
Although, if he was being honest, if he had to receive any kind of undue attention from anyone, he’d much prefer it to be from Aggie. Rather than overwhelming or overbearing, hers was a gentle kind. Slighty pushy and insistent at times, perhaps, but overall lifting, rather than pressuring.
And just as Kubo started loosening the bowstrings, he finally noticed how Aggie’s eyes lingered on the bow, the curious glint in them.
“Have you tried?”
Aggie blinked out of her daze. “Hm?”
“Shooting a bow. You looked fascinated. Have you tried?”
“Oh! Um, no. Back in my village, the women aren’t part of the hunting parties. Even if I-” Aggie cut herself off. An untold story hung between her pale lips. “I’ve never used a bow before, is the point.”
Kubo raised a brow, but didn’t press on. Simply internally noted how odd for Aggie, after having that look in her eyes, to suddenly be acting so… meek. “Then I’ll teach you. Show you the steps.”
“Oh, no, no, that’s fine.” Aggie shook her head. She pulls herself up to sit a bit taller, withdrawing into herself without realizing. “I don’t think… little girls are supposed to…”
“Partake in the combat arts? Nonsense.” Kubo dared himself to be just a touch more forward, hoping he wasn’t breaching a custom alien to him. “My mother was one of the fiercest warriors I know, and surely she was once a little girl.”
Aggie returned his gaze. The glint returned, and she leaned ever so slightly forward. “Did… your mother teach you archery?”
“No, actually. My father did. She preferred the blade.”
Aggie tilted her head. She looked puzzled. Immediately, Kubo understood her confusion. After all, the only family she’d ever seen him with was his grandfather.
Kubo took a breath. Even now, putting it to words never became easy. “They’re both… still with me, in a way. They always will.”
“Oh.” A stiffness spread through Aggie’s body, a shock shot through her form, before what little she opened up wilted once again. “I’m sorry.”
Kubo faltered. He wanted nothingmore than to lift Aggie’s spirits, but he could barely maintain his own. “The time we spent together was far shorter than I’d like,” he said, and not just for Aggie. “All the more reason to cherish every second of it.”
Aggie broke her gaze with him, and he took the chance to quickly breathe a silent sigh and pull back his composure. This wasn’t the point of the conversation. He had to wrench this back on track.
“But!”
Aggie met his gaze again, and a spark in those eyes compelled him to listen.
“Don’t you wish, sometimes, you can go back? Be with people you lost?”
Kubo opened his mouth, then closed it. He really wasn’t expecting these musings bubbling to the suface today.
He didn’t answer, not right away. He moved, first, up the steps to sit beside Aggie. “I won’t lie, the thought crossed my mind. More than once, in fact,” he said. The golden-red rays of the late afternoon cast him back to simpler times. “But… then I ask myself, what would they want for me?”
Aggie waited, hanging to every word.
“I feel… they want me to walk towards the next dawn.”
It was strange. He felt lighter. Didn’t even realize he still had anything left to get off his chest.
Kubo stood. The moment’s surely passed by now. “Well, if you really don’t wish to try the bow, I won’t push it.”
“No, no, no!” Aggie rapidly said, standing up with him. “Um… new experiences are good?”
“Part of looking to the dawn?” Kubo smiled, Aggie matching him sheepishly. “Alright. But only if you try it for your own sake. Not for mine. Can you do that?”
Aggie nodded. When he offered the bow, she took it with gusto, and was off to stand in front of one of the targets. One couldn’t not chuckle at that energy.
“Alright, you’ve seen me do it a few times, so you should be familiar with the basic form,” Kubo said, stepping closer to her, but still giving her plenty of space.
Aggie gave a confident nod.
Kubo handed her a single arrow. “For starters, just remember to keep your legs as wide as your shoulders, keep your back straight, handle the arrow with your dominant hand, and draw the string up to just below your chin.”
Aggie took the arrow, practically snatched it out of his hands with an infectious energy. She adjusted her stance, gazed straight ahead at the target, nocked the arrow, then began to pull. Up to this point, Kubo was impressed. She’d done all the steps pretty decently, especially considering this was her first try.
However, an issue quickly made itself known. Aggie’s pull halted at about the length of her arm, and she didn’t make any more progress, as it became clear she didn’t have the arm strength to pull the string up to her chin. After struggling with it for a good ten seconds, her grip on the arrow slipped. The arrow flew forward about half the distance to the target, before losing momentum and clattering harmlessly to the dirt.
Aggie grunted angrily, stomping the ground. Kubo quickly coughed and turned away from a moment, not in any way related to hiding a laugh.
“Maybe we can adjust the bowstring to make it less taut.” Kubo offered to take the bow from a pouting Aggie, who gave it back with a sigh.
Kubo quickly loosened the bowstring to make it easier to draw. He truly felt a little for almost laughing. He was once surprised too by how much resistance a proper bowstring actually offers. Of course a complete rookie would be caught off guard too.
“Second time’s the charm.” Kubo handed the bow back to Aggie.
“Is the second time even going to do much?” Aggie murmured, wind taken off her sails.
“Honestly, your form is already mostly there. Only needs a few adjustments.” Kubo, bracing himself to be bolder than usual again, stepped forward and offered his hands. “Um. If I may guide your form?”
“Hm? O-oh!” Aggie swallowed, a bit of red coloring her cheeks, then smiled. “S-sure?”
Kubo nodded at the confirmation, before moving so she’s standing side by side with Aggie. His left hand on Aggie’s left, his right hand reaching around to guide Aggie’s right, he stood a little closer to align his form with hers, their cheeks now only separated by inches.
“Control your breathing. Pull the string all the way back… just like that. You’re still in charge of aiming, so align the arrow as best you can. Try to catch yourself between breaths, and… release.”
Aggie let go, the arrow was launched, soared through the air, and struck the topmost area of the target.
Aggie gasped, the brightest, widest smile gracing her lips. “I hit it!”
She was still staring at the mark of her success when Kubo turned to properly face her with a smile. The smile quickly disappeared.
He had never seen her from this angle before. He had never noticed the rope burn marks around her neck.
He had never faked a smile so fast than when Aggie turned to face her.
“I actually hit it, Kubo!”
“Just like I said, second time’s the charm.” Before his smile could fail, he pointed at the arrows she shot. “Mind picking them up after? We shouldn’t waste arrows just for practice.”
“Sure thing!”
Aggie took off to gather the arrows. Kubo stepped back and allowed himself to breathe.
Aggie hadn’t said much about her story so far. Even the gentlest of attempts would be with cold silence. No matter, he wouldn’t pry, wouldn’t even think of it. But now this, as well as the awfully heavy questions she asked earlier. It was clear any story she had must be too painful to tell.
He was willing to wait. If she never told her story, he wouldn’t think less of her, too. It was only Aggie, and Aggie alone, who could decide to tell her story.
Aggie had picked up the arrow that clattered to the groud, and plucked out the arrows stuck to the target board. When she turned to face Kubo, she wore a smile as dazzling as the dawn.
“Do you think I’ll get a bullseye on my third try?”
For now, Kubo had a new resolve.
“Let’s find out.”
It was of utmost importance that Aggie continues to smile.
-
This fic was commissioned by @kpyeeper, who wanted to see this rarepair of Kubo and Aggie, with Kubo teaching Aggie some basic archery and just generally be sweet with each other.
The semester I spent in archery club finally paid off. But anyway, this fic is long overdue, first pushed back in a big way by busy life stuff, then pushed back just a little more because I can't stop doubling back and tweaking around with it. I've never worked with this pairing before and I kept feeling like something's off, but with this I feel like I have finally arrived at a version that I'm happy with. I hope you're all happy with it too.
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• Kieran is deadly afraid of horror media, whether it is horror movies or horror videogames, he hates them. Even the dullest of jumpscares is enough to freeze him from fear. But of course, he refuses to admit it.
• When Drayton found out Kieran has never owned a rotomphone and, therefore, had little to no knowledge of internet culture, he had the funniest idea for a classic prank. "He needs to be humbled one way or the other".
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5 Tiny Writing Tips That Aren’t Talked About Enough (but work for me)
These are some lowkey underrated tips I’ve seen floating around writing communities — the kind that don’t get flashy attention but seriously changed how I write.
1. Put “he/she/they” at the start of the sentence less often.
Try switching up your sentence rhythm. Instead of
“She walked to the window,”
try
“The window creaked open under her touch.”
Keeps it fresh and stops the paragraph from sounding like a checklist.
2. Don’t describe everything — describe what matters.
Instead of listing every detail in a room, pick 2–3 objects that say something.
“A half-drunk mug of tea and a knife on the table”
sets a way stronger tone than
“There was a wooden table, two chairs, and a shelf.”
3. Use beats instead of dialogue tags sometimes.
Instead of:
"I'm fine," she said.
Try:
"I'm fine." She wiped her hands on her skirt.
It helps shows emotion, and movement.
4. Write your first draft like no one will ever read it.
No pressure. No perfection. Just vibes. The point of draft one is to exist. Let it be messy and weird — future you will thank you for at least something to edit.
5. When stuck, ask: “What’s the most fun thing that could happen next?”
Not logical. Not realistic. FUN. It doesn’t have to stay — but chasing excitement can blast through writer’s block and give you ideas you actually want to write.
What’s a tip that unexpectedly helped with your writing? Let me know!! 🍒
"why do you write?" because it’s the only way to silence the characters pacing around my brain like victorian ghosts with unresolved issues that prevent them from moving on.
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Zoom In, Don’t Glaze Over: How to Describe Appearance Without Losing the Plot
You’ve met her before. The girl with “flowing ebony hair,” “emerald eyes,” and “lips like rose petals.” Or him, with “chiseled jawlines,” “stormy gray eyes,” and “shoulders like a Greek statue.”
We don’t know them.
We’ve just met their tropes.
Describing physical appearance is one of the trickiest — and most overdone — parts of character writing. It’s tempting to reach for shorthand: hair color, eye color, maybe a quick body scan. But if we want a reader to see someone — to feel the charge in the air when they enter a room — we need to stop writing mannequins and start writing people.
So let’s get granular. Here’s how to write physical appearance in a way that’s textured, meaningful, and deeply character-driven.
1. Hair: It’s About Story, Texture, and Care
Hair says a lot — not just about genetics, but about choices. Does your character tame it? Let it run wild? Is it dyed, greying, braided, buzzed, or piled on top of her head in a hurry?
Good hair description considers:
Texture (fine, coiled, wiry, limp, soft)
Context (windblown, sweat-damp, scorched by bleach)
Emotion (does she twist it when nervous? Is he ashamed of losing it?)
Flat: “Her long brown hair framed her face.”
Better: “Her ponytail was too tight, the kind that whispered of control issues and caffeine-fueled 4 a.m. library shifts.”
You don’t need to romanticise it. You need to make it feel real.
2. Eyes: Less Color, More Connection
We get it: her eyes are violet. Cool. But that doesn’t tell us much.
Instead of focusing solely on eye color, think about:
What the eyes do (do they dart, linger, harden?)
What others feel under them (seen, judged, safe?)
The surrounding features (dark circles, crow’s feet, smudged mascara)
Flat: “His piercing blue eyes locked on hers.”
Better: “His gaze was the kind that looked through you — like it had already weighed your worth and moved on.”
You’re not describing a passport photo. You’re describing what it feels like to be seen by them.
3. Facial Features: Use Contrast and Texture
Faces are not symmetrical ovals with random features. They’re full of tension, softness, age, emotion, and life.
Things to look for:
Asymmetry and character (a crooked nose, a scar)
Expression patterns (smiling without the eyes, habitual frowns)
Evidence of lifestyle (laugh lines, sun spots, stress acne)
Flat: “She had a delicate face.”
Better: “There was something unfinished about her face — as if her cheekbones hadn’t quite agreed on where to settle, and her mouth always seemed on the verge of disagreement.”
Let the face be a map of experience.
4. Bodies: Movement > Measurement
Forget dress sizes and six packs. Think about how bodies occupy space. How do they move? What are they hiding or showing? How do they wear their clothes — or how do the clothes wear them?
Ask:
What do others notice first? (a presence, a posture, a sound?)
How does their body express emotion? (do they go rigid, fold inwards, puff up?)
Flat: “He was tall and muscular.”
Better: “He had the kind of height that made ceilings nervous — but he moved like he was trying not to take up too much space.”
Describing someone’s body isn’t about cataloguing. It’s about showing how they exist in the world.
5. Let Emotion Tint the Lens
Who’s doing the describing? A lover? An enemy? A tired narrator? The emotional lens will shape what’s noticed and how it’s described.
In love: The chipped tooth becomes charming.
In rivalry: The smirk becomes smug.
In mourning: The face becomes blurred with memory.
Same person. Different lens. Different description.
6. Specificity is Your Superpower
Generic description = generic character. One well-chosen detail creates intimacy. Let us feel the scratch of their scarf, the clink of her earrings, the smudge of ink on their fingertips.
Examples:
“He had a habit of adjusting his collar when he lied — always clockwise, always twice.”
“Her nail polish was always chipped, but never accidentally.”
Make the reader feel like they’re the only one close enough to notice.
Describing appearance isn’t just about what your character looks like. It’s about what their appearance says — about how they move through the world, how others see them, and how they see themselves.
Zoom in on the details that matter. Skip the clichés. Let each description carry weight, story, and emotion. Because you’re not building paper dolls. You’re building people.
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