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Oct 10, 2025

Happy Shakadolin Day!

I recently picked up drawing in Procreate so I drew one of the modern AU brainrot images that’s been plaguing my mind for the last year or so to mark the occasion 🥳 (yes, I know I’m not much of an artist, but I love them, your honor, and I’m trying my best 🫡)

(inspired by the quarry scene in Garden State)

And because no post feels complete without crem, I also included my cremiest modern AU Shakadolin longfic chapter below the cut 🎉

Adolin and Shallan attend Kaladin’s track meet. Kaladin describes pole vaulting to Shallan and Adolin in explicit detail. Specifically, he unironically explains how long and stiff his pole is, how deeply he penetrates the pit, how many boxes his pole has been in, and his skill level getting said pole into a box. Shallan makes a bunch of innuendos; Kaladin picks up on none of them.

Rated: Mature (or immature, if you're me)

Towards the end of the meet, Shallan and Adolin made their way over to the pole vaulting pit. Kaladin had noticed them in the stands a couple hours prior; he hadn't needed the text from Adolin—fashion icons at your 3:00 ;)—Kaladin had rolled his eyes when he had read it. Adolin was wearing jeans and a silly bright blue coat with gold buttons and white trim that was hard to miss. Undoubtedly he thought it was fashionable. It wasn’t but Kaladin could begrudgingly admit that it made his eyes stand out more than usual as they drew closer. The scarf, however, was doing him no favors—it was gold with stripes and had the appearance of something stolen off a Hufflepuff at Quidditch match. It looked stupid. Shallan, on the other hand, was radiant in a deep purple-red coat, jeans, brown UGG boots, purple fluffy earmuffs, and one of those cute wraparound scarf things—an infinity scarf? Was that what Laral had called them? He couldn't storming remember. She looked adorable. Her red hair was a little tousled and windblown just how he liked it and her blue eyes shone with excitement as they fixed on him. She seemed to glow with an inner light that he was all too happy to bask in. She smiled once they were in hailing range and burst into song, skipping ahead of Adolin, her hair forming a vivid spray of color around her head.

“Cause he’s so hiiiigh, high above me…” Shallan halted a couple feet in front of Kaladin. “Just when I thought you couldn’t get any higher, Kal, you go and do this.”

“Why’d you stop singing? Or do you not think I’m lovely?” He joked.

She grinned, “I’d say lofty.” She stood on tiptoes and raised both of her hands so Kaladin actually had to lift his arms a little bit to answer her invitation for an exaggerated high five. It wasn’t fair that she should look this stunning after hours, probably bored to tears, in the stands. She could have been anywhere but she had chosen to be here. Supporting him. He smiled as he slapped his palms to hers. “Adolin, did you see that?” Shallan turned to Adolin as he approached. “He smiled.” Shallan grinned in a complicit way, as if Adolin hadn’t shown Kaladin the text where—well, yeah, she probably didn’t know he had seen that. Adolin responded with a guarded smirk and Kaladin nodded to him. Shallan sat down and became occupied with tugging off one of her boots and Adolin met Kaladin’s eyes meaningfully then looked at Shallan, cocking an eyebrow almost as if to say, I know you like her. Do something about it, idiot. Kaladin tried to communicate with his own eyes, not yet, fuckwit.

That’s not what she wanted. He could wait until she was ready because she was worth the wait. He understood Adolin’s impatience, not personally, but he knew how Adolin was; how boys like him had grown up. Adolin was as privileged as they came and had never had to wait for anything in his life, whether it be for a train because he had a Limo to pick him up or for the newest gaming system because he had access to it before the rest of the public did, but Kaladin hadn’t had those luxuries so he could wait…he was a patient boy.

“Looks like you have high standards everywhere, book boy.” Adolin mused glancing at the metal supports on either side of the pit and winked. “I’m loving the uniform, too. Blue looks good on you.” Adolin appraised him with a look that had Kaladin feeling tense. Did he know those were called ‘standards’? Surely not. His word choice had been a coincidence. Adolin didn’t know what ‘standards’ were in any sense of the word. Adolin stepped forward and slapped Kaladin good-naturedly on the arm, “nicely done, Kal, and thanks for inviting us. It was impressive to watch you with your exceptionally long pole.” He indicated Kaladin’s Gill PacerFX in the grass but Kaladin got the impression he meant something else. “That takes some skill.” Kaladin had not invited him, the prat had storming invited himself and Shallan before Kaladin could tell him to—kindly—fuck off but he was glad that Shallan was here so he’d put up with Coccyx and let the comment pass as long as Coccyx didn’t unexpectedly tackle Kaladin to the ground to show off.

“Thanks, I’m not the best but—”

“Just take the compliment, book boy.” Adolin grinned, once again letting his gaze dart meaningfully between Kaladin and Shallan, who…had taken off both boots?

“I thought those things were supposed to be comfortable,” Kaladin teased. ‘Like walking on a cloud,’ is what Laral had said. Whatever that meant. They sure cost enough and stunk of corporate greed, exploitation, and ignorant status posturing.

“They are!” She replied defensively, “but I never should have worn ankle socks with them. They’ve been bunching up on me all day and I literally cannot stand it!” Kaladin shook his head chuckling as Shallan pulled on her boots, got to her feet, and plucked his pole from the grass.

“You ever dance on one of these?” Shallan asked, bouncing the pole in her palm as if weighing it. What was he supposed to say to that? Was she seriously asking if he pole danced with a fiberglass rod made specifically for pole vaulting?

“Uh, no?”

Shallan nodded in objective confirmation, “okay, no dancing. Only serious sportsing, got it,” she eyed the runway. “Alright, Kaladin Stormblessed, Defier of Gravity, give me a run down.”

Clever as ever. Kaladin grinned at her, taking the pole in his hand before resting it on his shoulder, and launched into a quick explanation of the basics. Since she had asked. “Well, the first thing you want to do is pick a pole. A lot of factors go into that but suffice it to say that height, weight, and skill level are important.”

“What can you tell me about your specific…” Shallan paused, eyeing him thoughtfully with a slight smirk that set his heart racing, “pole and skill level with said pole?”

“Well…as you’re constantly reminding me, I’m pretty tall so—"

“I see the reminders are working. You remembered to mention your skyscraper status without any prompting from me. If you hadn’t,” she craned her neck unnecessarily and squinted, as she was wont to do to look up at him, "I might have forgotten.”

“Har har.” Kaladin glared at her without any real venom and continued. “As I was saying, I’m pretty dense—"

“I thought you were saying you were tall. I hadn’t noticed you were dense.”

“Yeah, I pretty much sink in a pool.” A smile crept onto her face, which gave Kaladin pause. Was she mocking him? “Wait, do you actually want me to answer or…”

“I do.” She confirmed, nodding emphatically. “I’m sorry, how expectedly rude of me to interrupt. Do go on. I really do want to hear about your…pole. And skills with said pole.” She smiled politely up at him gesturing her hand invitingly at the fiberglass implement resting on his shoulder. He narrowed his eyes, unsure. There was something about her expression of barely contained mirth that he didn’t quite trust, it was unsettling. Was this some kind of joke to her? She smiled innocently up at him, so he shifted the pole off his shoulder to indicate the weight rating on the pole and resume the explanation.

“I have a stiffer pole then one generally might—”

At that moment, Adolin started having a coughing fit into the lapel of his coat. How long was this going to take if he was interrupted constantly and what the hell was Coccyx even choking on? Kaladin didn’t see him carrying a beverage or any food. Nothing. He’s probably asphyxiating on his own saliva. Idiot. Adolin motioned that he was fine and waved his hand for Kaladin to ignore him and continue. Kaladin didn’t need further prompting, he was happy to disregard the dipshit. He returned his attention to Shallan, “but even though it’s stiffer, I still get the flex I need to penetrate deep into the pit, which makes it a good fit.”

“Ah, yes, a stiff pole for deeper penetration. I could definitely see how that would be good fit.” Shallan confirmed letting her eyes flick to Adolin and smirking slightly before fixing her gaze on Kaladin again, very businesslike. “How long is your stiff pole?”

“Fifteen feet.” Kaladin tapped the length marking above the weight rating.

Shallan whistled, letting her eyes rove the length, rather dramatically. “Fifteen feet, Adolin. His pole is fifteen feet!” Shallan exclaimed. Adolin raised his eyebrows in polite acknowledgement, still thumping his chest with his fist and clearing his throat.

“I heard.” Adolin grunted, his voice still hoarse from all the hacking.

Sure, fifteen feet was nothing to sneeze at but Olympians used seventeen-foot poles, so it wasn’t really that impressive, but she didn’t need to know that. If she thought his fifteen-foot pole was impressive, perhaps he should be glad.

Something passed between Shallan and Adolin again and Kaladin had the impression that he was missing something or…maybe they were? A fifteen-foot pole made perfect sense for his height as well as the heights he was generally clearing. But, when he first started, he wasn’t vaulting nearly as high. Maybe that’s what they were acting suspicious about?

“I started out on a twelve-foot pole, but I went up in length my sophomore year when I started clearing thirteen feet and I’ve basically stayed at the same length since.” Kaladin explained. “It’s much easier to change stiffness or grip position, as needed, rather than length.”

“I see.” Shallan mused, once again containing an amused sort of smile. “And how do you like to grip your pole?”

“The same way most people do. About six to twelve inches from the top—"

“Wow, twelve inches…from the top?”

“Yeah, there’s a bit of a range and that’s about as far down as you’d reasonably want to go—"

“Are you presuming to know how I’d hold a pole?”

Adolin seemed to be trying to catch Kaladin’s eye, but Kaladin ignored him.

“Uh, I was under the impression you hadn’t done this much before—"

“Now you’re presuming my skill with a pole too?”

“Have you pole vaulted before?”

“No.”

“Okay, well, then I’m presuming you wouldn’t know how to grip a pole so I’m telling you,” Kaladin asserted, impatience creeping into his voice. Coccyx snorted and Shallan grinned at him. Kaladin scowled at the other boy, couldn’t he just learn to breathe quietly or maybe not at all? Shallan regarded Kaladin with a sly smile on her lips that had him breathing a little more shallowly as he continued. “Generally, you don’t want to grip above six inches with your top hand and the further down you grip it, the stiffer it gets.”

“Mmm, I see.” Shallan hummed, dancing her fingers over the end of the pole as she contemplated, then she gripped it incorrectly, lifting it from his shoulder and slid her hand down. Her hand placement was farther down than one would realistically grip the pole. “So, if you grip the pole lower from the tip, the stiffness increases?”

“Exactly.” He smiled. Even if her grip position wasn’t perfect, she was getting it. It would be quite stiff if she were to actually perform an attempt with her hand where it was currently.

“And, um,” Shallan cleared her throat, “how do you like to hold your pole?”

“The grip is pretty standard. You want to place your top hand face up like this, then your bottom hand faces downward about shoulder-width apart from the…” Shallan was eyeing the expanse of pole between his hands dubiously. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing just shoulder-width seems like a pretty wide grip.”

“Not really. It’s pretty standard, like I said.” Kaladin slid his hands closer together, which felt very wrong as he lifted the pole, “If your grip is too narrow as you approach the box—"

“Excuse me, what? The box?”

“Yeah.” Kaladin lowered the pole and gestured. “That metal trapezoid-looking thing at the end of the runway is called a box. I guess I should have mentioned that earlier.”

“Yes, you should have.” Shallan nodded approvingly and met Adolin’s gaze, the other boy cleared his throat and looked away. Good. Kaladin loved the sound it made when Cocccyx shut the fuck up. “This just keeps getting better and better, book boy.” Shallan snorted. He bristled at the nickname, but didn't comment on it. He didn’t want to ruin the nice conversation they were having and he surreptitiously wiped his hands, which had begun to sweat, on his shorts. “Go on, tell me what happens if your grip is too narrow as you approach the box.”

Why had she stressed her words like that? He tried not to get hung up on it. She had said it was getting better and better so that sounded like an endorsement to tell her more…

“Well, if your grip is too narrow, you’ll have trouble getting the pole vertical.”

“Ah, that would definitely be a problem.” Shallan affirmed, nodding.

She gets it.

“And if your grip is too wide it’s hard to swing.” Kaladin continued.

“Right. Harder to swing. Got it. Do you ever spit on your hands first?"

"No, why?"

Shallan gave him a calculating—almost pitying—look before sighing and continuing her barrage of questions. "Tell me more about the box. And the pole. Together.” Shallan pointed at each in turn, giving him an indulgent smile.

She sure was interested in pole vault. But so was he so that was probably a good thing.

“Well, there’s not much to tell. You aim and let gravity do the work for you. As you approach the box, the pole is in freefall until—"

“So, you let the pole freefall into the box? Like, it just falls right in?”

“Uh, kinda? It’s possible to miss the box early on when you’re learning, but, as you get more skilled, getting your pole in the box becomes second nature. I don’t even think about it now. Do you need a fucking cough drop, Coccyx?”

Shallan sniggered probably at how bad Coccyx was at breathing—he was having yet another coughing fit, but motioned again that he was fine, which was good because if Kaladin did have a lozenge, he was likely to throw it at him. How had this moron lived so long without mastering the difference between inhalation and deglutition? His epiglottis was as storming stupid as he was. Kaladin shot him a glare and he at least had the decency to look apologetic through watering eyes and wheezes. Shallan grinned at Coccyx before she returned her attention to Kaladin.

“Well, that’s good to hear. How would you rate your skill at getting your pole into the box?” Shallan prompted, her tone shifting from teasing to professional as if she were conducting an interview now.

“I’d say it’s pretty good.” Kaladin answered hesitantly, running a nervous hand through his hair, hoping he didn’t sound too self-aggrandizing. Even though he was being truthful, it was still unsettling to boast about himself so openly. “I haven’t missed since junior year.”

“Well, that’s good to hear.” Shallan clapped her hands together as if she were wrapping up an important meeting. “And how many boxes has your pole been in?”

“Good question.” Kaladin scratched his chin, preparing to do a mental calculation. How many tracks had he competed at over the years? Fuck, it was probably a lot.

“Really?” Shallan demanded. She expected him to just know that number off the top of his head? Clearly, she had no idea just how many meets there were for high school track and field. If she had, she wouldn’t find it so surprising he didn’t just know.

“Yeah, I’d have to really think about it. Track is more than just dual meets, groups, sectionals, and states every year, there are lots of invitationals too so it’s hard to remember how many different tracks and, thus, how many boxes my pole has been in over a four-year career. If we were just talking about college, that would be easier.”

“How many in college then?”

“Three.”

“Only three in college but duals, groups, and lots of invitations, so you don’t know how many high school boxes you put your pole in?”

Was she being deliberately obtuse by repeating only some of what he had said or was he going to have to determine the number because she genuinely wanted to know?

“I could probably figure it out, but, like I said, it would take me a while…” Kaladin began noncommittally, hoping she didn’t really want him to calculate how many tracks he’d vaulted at over the years.

“None of this…terminology makes you think of anything else?” she asked, eyebrows disappearing into her hair.

“No?”

“I take back what I said about not noticing you were dense.” Shallan deadpanned.

Adolin patted Kaladin’s arm in what Kaladin felt was a very patronizing manner so he violently jerked his shoulder and scowled to let Adolin know his condescension was unwelcome.

“Stormblessed,” Kaladin turned at the sound of Teft’s gruff voice, “lad, that was some mighty fine vaulting you did today.” His coach’s face was its usual ruddy tan and he was itching at his scrubby gray beard with gnarled fingers but his normally grim countenance was lit up with a rare contemplative smile.

Kaladin bowed his head in acknowledgement, containing his own self-satisfied grin, “thank you, sir.”

Teft nodded, “I see your lady friend has taken a keen interest in your pole.” He furrowed his eyebrows as he looked over Shallan, who had been standing on the long rod of fiberglass and yanking it up from the ground. Sensing their glances, she dropped it back in the grass and innocently hopped off it, going the extra mile and whistling absently for effect. Teft turned back to Kaladin, “See that her, ah, stress tests aren’t too rigorous and,” Teft jutted his chin towards the gate before continuing, “make sure it finds its way back into the fieldhouse.”

“I’ll do that, sir.”

“Good, lad.” Teft clapped Kaladin on the shoulder and Kaladin caught a faint whiff of antiseptic as his coach departed. Shallan resumed her ‘stress tests.’ Kaladin chuckled to himself as she stood on the PacerFX and dramatically strained as she pulled it up from the grass.

“Your pole is stiffer than I thought it—"

“Kal!”

Kaladin turned at the sound of his name to find Lyn grinning as she jogged across the field. She stopped a few feet from him sounding a little breathless and continued to hop from foot to foot to stay warm. Her long dark ponytail swayed back-and-forth as she spoke, “I heard you cleared sixteen feet—congrats!” She beamed at him and offered him a high five, which he readily accepted.

“Thanks.” Storms, her enthusiasm was infectious. Kaladin couldn’t help it, he grinned too.

“That’s a new PR, right?” Lyn asked, her brown eyes alight with excitement.

“It is,” Kaladin confirmed, feeling heat rise in his cheeks. Kaladin couldn’t help looking to Shallan to see if she had heard. He found her eyes narrowed and a displeased calculating expression on her face. Storms, did she think he was bragging? He hadn’t even been the one to bring it up, but he had smiled about it…Kaladin looked at Adolin, who was watching the exchange with a vacuous smile on his face. Typical.

“That’s awesome!” Lyn raised her hands and gave him another high five and Kaladin grinned sheepishly—he didn’t want Shallan thinking he was full of himself like Coccyx.

“Who is your friend?” Shallan asked, stepping up next to Kaladin and nudging him as she did so. Kaladin’s heart started to race—her tone was laced with condemnation that made him feel like he had done something wrong—was she annoyed that he forgot to introduce them? Even more heat crept up his neck to his face.

“Uh…this is Lyn.” Kaladin gestured to the pretty dark-haired pole vaulter, “Shallan, Lyn. Lyn, Shallan.”

There was something unsettling about the gleam in Shallan’s eye as she studied Lyn and her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. It was almost like she didn’t like Lyn but that was silly, she probably just needed to get to know her more to realize how cool she was.

“She’s a fellow pole vaulter.” Kaladin continued, “and is pretty consistently clearing twelve feet which is really good for a girl and she’s here on an athletic scholarship too and she’s storming smart like you are so you two would probably...” Kaladin trailed off at the look on Shallan’s face.

“Who’s your other friend?” Lyn asked, face lighting up as she spotted Adolin.

Shallan’s eyes narrowed further.

“Oh, that’s Adolin.” Kaladin gestured vaguely. “He’s doing a group project with us after the meet.”

“Almost forgot about me, book boy?” Adolin extended his hand to Lyn, beaming. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lyn. Great running in the 200.”

“You saw that?” Lyn asked, eyebrows knitting in confusion. Kaladin’s gaze snapped to Adolin. How had he recognized her? If Coccyx thought he could local train Lyn…Kaladin realized he was growling softly and morphed it into aggressively clearing his throat instead.

“Yeah, we’ve been here for the last two hours. You placed second in your heat, right?”

“Yeah…” Lyn cocked her head, “I’m surprised you noticed. Have we met? I feel like I would have remembered you. You’re…not many people have black and blonde hair like yours.”

“I don’t think so,” Adolin replied with an air of cheerful dismissiveness, “but I love your shoes.”

Ah, the shoes. That better have been all. Hopefully it was. Adolin did seem to notice and talk about clothing a completely weird and unsettling amount. If Kaladin didn't know any better...

“Thank you!” Lyn beamed.

“You’re welcome. That color combination looks phenomenal.”

“Are you a fashion major or something?”

“I wish but no. I’m a communications major.”

“Oh, I have friend who—"

“Okay, well, this project isn’t going to write itself.” Shallan clapped her hands together in a way that indicated finality and dismissal. Huh, it seemed a little rude to interrupt Lyn like that but maybe Shallan was getting stressed about the project. They hadn’t made as much progress as Kaladin would have liked either. “Nice meeting you, Lyn!” Shallan grinned at the other pole vaulter, taking Kaladin’s arm and began steering him towards the gate. “I call shotgun!”

Lyn shrugged with a puzzled smile. “I probably should get my spikes on for the 4x4. Nice meeting y’all too.” Lyn raised her fist and Kaladin bumped knuckles with her and so did Adolin. “Awesome job today, Kal.” Lyn lightly touched his shoulder and smiled before jogging off.

Shallan turned on her heel, linked arms with Kaladin, and started towing him towards the exit so he was forced to turn away. Kaladin took a few steps, feeling conflicted.

“Hold on, I have to grab my stuff.” Kaladin extricated himself from her and jogged back to where he’d left his backpack and gym bag. Lyn’s bag was next to his and she was sitting in the grass changing into her spikes as he snatched up his backpack and shouldered it, then, slung his gym bag across his chest. “Sorry I can’t stay to see your race. We really need to work on this project, I guess.”

“That’s okay. I hope the project goes well.” She smiled good-naturedly at him.

“I wish I could stay though.”

“It’s okay, Kal. You’re not beholden to watch everyone’s events when yours is over.”

“I guess not, it’s just weird not staying until the end and cooling down with the team.”

“If you’re leaving with your friends," she tilted her chin indicating something behind him, "you might want to get a move on.”

He looked.

“Storms, you're right,” Shallan was halfway across the field already, “good luck in the 4x4!”

With that Kaladin snatched up his pole and took off. Adolin was waiting a few feet away from where he had left him, and Kaladin couldn’t help speaking his thoughts aloud. “Man, she must have really thought I was going to challenge her for the front seat, huh?”

Adolin patted him on the shoulder with a bemused smile. “You’re very book smart, book boy, but you’re living proof that not everything can be learned that way.”

“What do you mean?”

“Women. Innuendos. Did you not pick up on the fact that Shallan saw Lyn as a threat or…" His eyes sparkled as he grinned, "I’ll let you figure out the innuendo part for yourself.”

“Shallan saw Lyn as a threat? What idiocy is this? Lyn is really nice and I don’t think she would attack anyone. And innuendos? What are you on about, Coccyx?”

Adolin heaved a sigh and patted Kaladin again. Kaladin barely resisted the urge to use his pole like some ancient spearman training with a quarterstaff and beat Adolin with it as they made their way out of the stadium.

This was probably going to be a long night but hopefully the brothers were out partying somewhere else, like Adolin had said earlier, so he and Shallan could make some real headway on the project. Without distractions.

#stormlight fanart #current ao3 wip #ao3 fanfic #stormlight fanfic #modern au #shakadolin #cremposting #garden state #we pump our fists not our gas #iykyk #it’s pork roll #not Taylor ham

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