#anyway here's a few dozen words on sc

[theramenbandit]

A continuation of this little bit of plotless drabble 

-

Lena likes Wednesdays. There's a lot less taking orders and a lot more making coffee. She likes making things. The method, the motions, the measurements, they bring her a sort of calm steadiness as she rides the little tidal wave that is the midmorning rush.

With Mike at the till, skillfully keeping the queue moving, charming his regulars the whole way, and Lena behind him, keeping the rhythm, everything is chugging along efficiently. 

Until it isn't.

Now it's a large-ish town and it's a busy street, so Lena gets her fair share of weird customers, but this one… 

Who the hell orders a spiked beverage this early in the day? And why does this particular mix trigger something in the back of her mind? Something familiar, like an old song once cherished, but whose words now escaped her, floating just out of her grasp.

The feeling that something is off distracts her. It trips her up, and the rhythm is lost. Everything is so loud all of a sudden, and the machines are working too, too slow.

She announces the drink at the counter, almost slamming it down in the confusing din, then turns to go and finish making that god-awful caramel latte. But the person who ordered it doesn’t claim the cup. Instead, the person misses the cup entirely and fully grasps her hand. Alarmed, Lena spins around, her other hand discreetly moving towards the small knife at her thigh. 

“Be careful who you trust, Lena.”

Her hand is released, and the person, a tall, attractive brunette in large sunglasses, takes the drink and strides headlong into the uncaffeinated crowd. The woman almost clips Kara as she walks straight out the door.

“Who was that?” Kara asks as she approaches the counter.

Lena schools her face back into her most radiant customer service smile, something more like a barista greeting a regular and not a sophomore ambushed by the history pop quiz. “Who was what?”

“That lady who just barreled outta here,” Kara says with a jerk of her thumb towards the exit. “You looked like you'd seen a ghost.”

“Well, she did just order a six-shot carajillo,” she says with a chuckle. “I think my reaction was only appropriate.”

The blonde makes a horrified face, then checks her watch. It’s not even 10 AM yet. “Yeah, I’ll say.”

She'll probably have disappeared by now, but Lena shoots a glance towards the street anyway for good measure. She then busies herself with the next orders in a valiant effort to not entertain the thought until she could properly unpack it:

What in the damn hell is Andrea Rojas doing in National City?

The moment she comes home, Lena immediately breaks out the scotch. She plops onto her couch and tumbles the day’s events around in her head, examining them from every angle.

What should have been a normal Wednesday found her staring into the face of none other than her ex, who, instead of thanking her for cranking out six damn shots of espresso, left her with a cryptic warning about trust, of all the bloody things. The irony isn’t lost on her, but the fact that Andrea came all the way out here to tell her that herself, isn’t either.

She’s here for a reason.

About an hour of fruitless brooding passes and she concludes that it probably has nothing to do with the current op, so the connection must be somewhere in the past. 

Their past.

At that, she heaves a heavy sigh and pads into the kitchen where the Arkanian fox awaits, languidly swishing his flaming tail. She dejectedly plates Chewie’s food (though she still gives him his evening cuddles) and begins her bedtime routine, deciding that a trip down memory lane is an activity best done sober.

[acavatica]

i-wakeupstrange said:

i’m not including this in my review of the elevator fic because it was becoming its own huge, ridiculous tangent, but in short: it’s now my headcanon that Marco is into anime (OF COURSE why didn’t I realize sooner) and in a roundabout way that’s Peter’s doing. (he’s a little old for NGE but, I think, about the right age to have gotten real into, say, Robotech. and decide to show his son these shows. because he’s a Cool Dad. or tried to be before... you know.)

Peter told himself that he was watching cartoons because of the baby, but also all the baby books he’d tried to force Eva to read had said that babies have about a foot of vision and see colors like a dog. Then he told himself that he was watching cartoons because the bright colors and laser sounds kept him awake. At least that wasn’t a complete lie. 

The full truth was that he thought Robotech was cool. It was serialized, which was more than he could say for any American TV shows. It wasn’t as if Peter could read Dune with a baby in his arms no matter how much he wanted to, even if he’d missed the last two books and another was coming out later that year. And it wasn’t as if Peter could read Dune anyway since he was off Ritalin again, but that was neither here nor there. TV shows would catch up to book series eventually.

The fact that it had a story he could follow was just a bonus. The real draw of Robotech was that it aired in marathons in the middle of the night. That was a lot less likely to wake up his ten-week-old than changing his Doctor Who tapes every four episodes. Plus, he’d had to pay someone on USENET to ship the tapes all the way from Brighton. If he wore them out, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to find the guy ripping VHS tapes on net.tv.drwho again.

Eva’s alarm went off, muffled by the bedroom door. Peter closed his eyes and let his head fall back against the couch cushion. 5:30 already. He’d been letting her get most of the sleep to reimburse her for the whole pregnancy thing, but now that she was going back to work, he wouldn’t even have a choice.

He listened to her shuffle around the kitchen. He heard every step of her putting on a pot of coffee. Eva never did anything quietly, but it hadn’t taken him long to get used to it. After all, there was nothing more comforting than knowing his ever-so-slightly evil partner would at least never be able to sneak up on him. 

He opened his eyes to catch her shaking out her still-rumpled hair and stretching out the crick in her back. He heard that too, from all the way across the room. Another thing Peter was repaying her for. She saw him watching and closed the distance between them. Eva draped her elbows over the back of the couch and touched her cheek to Peter’s head. Peter took a deep breath, and he smelled her shampoo and the coffee and their new baby. 

Putting his PhD on hold was worth it.

Eva cocked her head to the side, rolling her chin over Peter’s forehead. “Wow, look at her hair. Japan really has progressive ideas about the meaning of ‘spiral curls.’” She walked around to the front of the couch, plopped down, and held out her arms. “Hand him over.”

Marco started whining almost immediately. 

“I’m surprised you know it’s Japanimation.”

Eva rolled her eyes. “We had Japanese cartoons in Mexico. And actually, the acting was way better than this.”

“Yeah, but were there giant fighting robots?”

“I dunno, this shit is for nerds.” Marco was still fussing in her arms, but she was looking down at him like she understood where he was coming from. “You’re gonna make our kid a nerd, aren’t you?”

Peter smiled. “I don’t know what you expected when you decided to have a baby with me.”

“Feh, yeah, ‘decided.’” Eva stretched her leg out and gave Peter’s knee a good nudge.

She pulled her leg back, crossed her ankles, and cradled Marco with her whole body. All three of them fell quiet, and Minmay sang Marco back to sleep.

⁠—⁠—⁠— 

Marco was born whining, and after four years, he still only stopped when he was asleep.

“Why do I have to do daycare?”

“You asked to watch Voltron. It’s the fifth time we’ve watched Voltron. Please watch Voltron.”

Marco bobbed his head back and forth as he quoted the onscreen conversation between Queen Merla and King Zarkon: “The chamber is full of quarks. ⁠— Quirks? ⁠— No, quarks. You see, everything is made of atoms, and all atoms are made of quarks. ⁠— Hm, nice, but how does it work? ⁠— Well, there are six kinds of quarks: up, down, top, bottom, strange. And my favorite kind, charmed.”

“Well. At least we can be sure you’re my kid. And Eva’s. And of why I like this show.”

“If you like it, don’t complain.”

Peter ran his hand over his hair and tried to ignore how thin it was getting. “Definitely Eva’s kid…” 

Marco rolled over closer to Peter and looked up at him pleadingly. “Whyyy do I have to do daycare?”

“Because,” Peter said reluctantly. “I finally finished school, and it was really hard, but I got a cool job out of it.”

Marco’s eyes basically tripled in size, and he poked out his lower lip. Definitely, 100% for sure, Eva’s kid. “But I’ll miss you.”

Peter sighed. “I’ll miss you too. But you’re starting school in the fall anyway, so think of it like practice.”

Marco crossed his arms and turned his eyes back to the TV. He stayed quiet for maybe a minute, long enough for the pilots to form Voltron. Without taking his eyes off the TV, he said, “What if they don’t know how to microwave Spaghetti-Os?”

“If there’s any lesson you have to learn, it’s that sometimes you have to settle for Spaghetti-Os that aren’t made by Chef Boyardee Champion of the World, Your Dad.”

“Spaghetti-Os aren’t even Chef Boyardee,” Marco mumbled.

Peter reached his leg over and nudged Marco’s knee with his foot. “Don’t you want to be brave like Lance?”

Marco pushed Peter’s foot away, crossed his arms again, and sank into the couch. “No. I wanna be diablo-lolical like Prince Lotor.”

“Well, Prince Lotor doesn’t even need his dad.”

Marco glanced over at Peter, and Peter grinned. Marco sank even further into the couch until his feet almost touched the floor.

⁠—⁠—⁠— 

The bluish glow of the TV cast long shadows across the room. There wasn’t much contrast because it was a pretty dark movie, but Marco was still illuminated against the dull, colorless room. The volume was only one notch above mute, but he was sitting on his knees, so close to the TV that he could almost make out every word. It’s not like the sound would have bothered his dad, even if he turned it all the way up. Marco kept it low so he could still hear Peter breathing, and even acknowledging that feeling ate away his insides.

It had been a whole year, and for a while Marco had tried not to think about how he was the only thing keeping his dad alive, in more ways than one. It got harder the longer Peter didn’t get better. Marco didn’t even have cable to distract himself from his messed up life. He just had the same old VHS tapes, and they’d had to donate a bunch of them to Goodwill when they’d moved. 

The box was still there, still packed and next to the TV, labeled in Marco’s sloppy kid handwriting. Peter hadn’t helped with the move⁠—it had mostly been Jake’s family and his mom’s relatives he’d never met and would probably never see again. Marco could still see his hands pulling the tapes off the shelves, sorting them, reading the labels in Peter’s sloppy grownup handwriting, and not being able to bear to throw away the memories of sitting between his mom and dad with popcorn in his lap, even if he might never be able to watch those tapes again.

There were only a few tapes scattered around the plastic milk crate the TV sat on. The rest were still in the box. Marco had gone through them dozens of times, and he was still limited to the few tapes he didn’t associate with a time when he had a family. 

He’d never watched Ghost in the Shell with his dad. That was probably a good thing, because there was a lot of nudity, and that was always awkward. There was also some gore, which Peter knew gave Marco nightmares, even if he pretended not to be scared. Marco had played the movie in front of Peter dozens of times anyway, but his eyes didn’t track it, and he didn’t tell Marco that he should turn it off, he was too young to see all these nipples.

Marco turned around, blinded from sitting so close to the TV. He didn’t need to see his dad. He knew he was curled in on himself, his face buried in the place where the back of the couch met the seat and the arm. There was no way to know if he was asleep or awake, and Marco wasn’t even sure those words had meaning in Peter’s life anymore.

“Hey Dad,” Marco said, his voice creaky, either from disuse, disgust, or some other kind of emotion. “What do you think about the whole brains jacking into the internet thing? Realistic? It seems like the kind of thing you’d have worked on.”  Marco listened to Peter’s breathing. It never changed. Marco could say anything. “You know. When you worked.”

Marco turned away, back to the TV. He pressed Stop, and the tape clicked off, flooding the room with light so bright and blue, it hurt his eyes. He pressed rewind and the whir of the tape drowned out Peter’s breathing. It was crazy, but as the VCR started to grind to the end of the tape, Marco was suddenly, irrationally, completely sure that when the tape stopped rolling, the room would be totally silent. His body flashed hot and then cold and his pulse pounded painfully in his temples.

The tape clicked off. Marco held his breath.

Peter breathed in. Out. In. Out.

Marco pressed play, turned the volume up a few more notches, and got to his feet. As he passed, he shoved his dad’s leg with his foot. He stood over him, waiting like he expected some kind of reaction. The TV lit up his motionless body in green, gray, white. The cyborg pulled the cables out of her neck and stood.

“If only someone would ghost hack you.”

Marco went into his bedroom⁠—the only bedroom⁠—and slammed the door.  

⁠—⁠—⁠— 

Marco’s back was flat against the dirt floor of the scoop, his head resting on his folded arms. His right leg was draped over Ax’s back and he’d slowly tangled his left leg up in Ax’s tail. Ax didn’t like that, and he knew Ax didn’t like it, and that’s why he’d taken it slow. He’d started by sticking his leg under Ax’s tail. He’d waited a couple weeks, and then he’d surreptitiously make a loop over the course of an hour. Now, after like a month of acclimating him, Ax’s tail was wrapped around Marco’s leg like a boa constrictor, and maybe Ax didn’t even notice.

He definitely noticed. Marco had just pulled off an incredible feat of exposure therapy. Ax just wasn’t allergic to how annoying Marco was anymore. Too bad the allergy was familial, and it was harder to wallow a hawk into submission.

<You’re not even watching,> Tobias complained.

Marco lolled his head to the side and pointed his eyes at the TV. “Why are you making me read TV, Tobias? The point of TV is to not have to read.”

<Subtitles are more authentic,> Tobias said, his voice dripping with condescension.

“But what about Ax? Poor Ax can’t read at all.”

<I can read,> Ax said, his voice a mixture of defensive and arrogant. <And even if I couldn’t, my translator chip has no trouble processing Japanese.> Snobbiness ran in their family too. 

“I’m just saying, I’d be able to pay more attention if I could understand the words and look at the pictures at the same time. You know, how it’s intended to be consumed?”

<It’s intended to be consumed in Japanese.> 

Marco rolled his eyes and sighed. It was the obnoxious kind of sigh, the voiced kind that’s practically a groan. “It’s just robots, dude, it’s not that serious.”

<Neon Genesis Evangelion is art, Marco,> Tobias said, ratcheting the pretension up to eleven. <It’s an exploration of how humanity would develop, given exposure to advanced alien technology in the face of an oncoming alien threat. And the only thing protecting humanity from annihilation is some teenagers with special powers. It’s like, relatable.> 

“Wow,” Marco said sarcastically. “Never seen anything like that before.” That was basically the plot of Robotech mixed with Voltron, but boring.

<I mean, you must have never seen anime before, or you’d know how terrible the English dubs are.>

Marco sat up on his elbows and narrowed his eyes. Ax tightened his tail ever so slightly around Marco’s leg, like he was trying to hold him back. Marco pulled his leg free. “That’s pretty funny, since how could you even have watched so much subbed anime when no one cared enough about you to buy you decent clothes or new shoes or Clearasil? Let alone to go out of their way to buy you anime, subtitled specifically, the way it’s intended, of course.”

Tobias stared at him. Ax stared at him. Hell, Shinji Ikari stared at him.

Marco couldn’t take even a minute of it. “Say something.”

<I just wanted to share something I like with you.> 

Tobias opened his wings, fluttered to the edge of the scoop entrance, and flew away.

Ax was still looking at him with all four eyes. Marco squirmed, but he pressed his lips into a line and didn’t break eye contact.

<That was too far,> Ax said finally, his voice more gentle than Marco deserved. <Why did you react so forcefully?>

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Marco leaned around Ax, grabbed the remote, and changed the audio to English. “Let’s just watch this dumb robot show.”

[ladyreapermc]

Fic: This isn’t a rom-com 7/?

Author’s notes: So this one is a little longer than usual, but not by much. Lot’s of stuff happening and I’d love feedback about the direction I’m taking this. I’m always open to suggestions!

Wordcount: 3524

Warnings: one F. bomb, but other than that, lots and lots of fluff.

Part 1 Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6

Lilah was supposed finishing her breakfast and getting ready to go to work, but instead, she was browsing the New York Film Academy page, especially the Master of Arts in screenwriting and its admission application.

She didn’t even know why she was doing it. It wasn’t like Lilah was actually considering applying for it. She already had a master’s degree. Not only that, she already had a career that she spent the last ten years of her life investing in. This was just a stupid pipe dream and nothing more.

“Morning”, Isaac’s voice started Lilah out of her thoughts, and she hurried to close her laptop lid and turn to watch as he padded into the kitchen and poured himself some coffee, still on his PJs.

“Morning. Shouldn’t you be getting ready for work?” Usually, Isaac worked from 8 to five or later whenever needed.

“We had some night shooting yesterday and it wrapped up around six,” he replied yawning and dropping on the chair in front of her, cradling his mug. “I’ve just gotten back and I’m planning on sleeping all morning.”

“Jesus! That’s some horrible hours,” Lilah commented with a wince and Isaac just nodded.

“And I’m one of the lucky ones because all the runners take turns helping out while the others take a nap. I don’t know how Keanu does it. The guy is a machine. But this was my last day anyway.”

“Wait, what?” Lilah asked surprised. “You quitted?”

“Yeah. It was good money, but it was getting in the way of rehearsals, both theater, and band.”

“Band? What band?” Lilah looked at him confused. Why didn’t she know about this?

“Oh right! You didn’t come to my last gig,” Isaac said and there wasn’t any accusation on his tone, but Lilah still felt bad. She had been with Keanu last weekend and missed his performance. “These guys liked my vocals and asked me if I was interested in joining their band. I said yes.”

“But what about musical theater and the Hollywood dream?” she asked, her eyes wide. How come she missed such a change in her friend’s life? Isaac just shrugged.

“I’m still doing theater, but you know I love to be on the stage too and these guys have a great sound,” he said draining his mug and picking up Lilah’s breakfast dishes to bring to the kitchen. “And I can still take on Hollywood in a different way. But to do that, I need time to rehearsal. So as of Monday, you’re looking at the newest barista for Novelsy.”

Lilah was at a loss of words faced with so many changes in Isaac’s life in such a short period of time. She was being a lousy friend, focusing too much on her own issues and missing Isaac’s and Jean’s lives.

“Oh. I know that look,” he said with a frown. “It’s the ‘I’m having a freak out’ look. What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Isaac asked, tapping her temple gently.

“I just…” Lilah sighed. “I can’t believe I ended up missing so much in these last few weeks. I’m sorry.”

“Well, you have been a little self-absorbed lately,” Isaac pointed out with a small grimace. “But I get it. It’s the thrill of new love and all that.”

It was weird how Isaac’s words managed to be exactly right, but the truth behind them still took her by surprise. Because no matter how hard Lilah tried to fight it or pretend otherwise, she was in love with Keanu. Had been for a while now and it was both exhilarating and terrifying.

“Oh honey,” Isaac sighed, catching her wide-eyed gaze. “You’re one of the smartest people I know, but when it comes to your own feelings…”

And could she really argue with that? It was staring her in the face this whole time and Lilah didn’t see it. Well, no, that wasn’t quite right, was it? She refused to see it because she was afraid. Afraid of what it could be and where it would lead and how it would end.

And this was so no what Lilah signed up for when started this thing with Keanu. Or at least that’s what she kept telling herself. She kept repeating that he was her friend and that was all but none of her friendships ever felt like this. And to be fair, considering how sweet, humble, caring, intelligent and amazing Keanu was, did she even stand a chance of not falling in love?

“Are we having a meltdown at this time in the morning?” Jean asked in a yawn and filling a cup of coffee for herself.

“The penny finally dropped on the Keanu thing,” Isaac informed.

“Thank fuck! The oblivious thing was cute at the beginning, but it was starting to get annoying,” Jean said, her harsh words shaking Lilah from her daze. “Also, not fun to get kicked off my own place so you could have your little ‘not a date’ with Keanu.”

“I never kicked you out of the apartment!” Lilah complained, glaring at her friend and Jean rolled her eyes.

“Right. Because I wanna be here when you two are making heart eyes at each other. No, thank you.”

“Jean!” Isaac chided cutting her off. “There were a dozen ways you could’ve said that without coming off like a bitch.”

From the corner of her eye, Lilah saw Jean cross her arms over her chest, her lips pulling in a thin line of displeasure. She hated to be called out over her bluntness.

“But even though she could have phrased better,” Isaac continued, looking over at Lilah. “Keanu has been coming over a lot. Not that I mind, but it does take away some of our privacy, you know?”

Lilah sighed and nodded. He had a point. They both did. Lilah never thought she would be one of those people that ditched her friends the second they started dating. Not that she was dating Keanu but…

“I’m sorry. I’ve been a shitty friend.”

“A little bit,” Jean agreed, but Lilah could see she was fighting a smile. “But we still love you.”

“We do,” Isaac agreed with a grin. “And you can start making up for the lost time by coming to my band’s gig this Friday night.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Lilah assured, kissing his cheek. “Now get your ass in bed! You look exhausted.”

Isaac nodded and waved at them both, before disappearing into his bedroom. Lilah hesitated for a moment, before glancing at Jean, who was inconspicuously avoiding looking her way.

“Are we ok?” Lilah asked and Jean nodded with a sigh.

“I missed my friend, you know? I missed talking to you, knowing what was going on in your life and sharing mine.”

“I’ve missed you too,” she said, dragging Jean for a hug. “How about tomorrow, after my class, you and I get some retail therapy? Novelsy’s costume contest is next week after all.”

“A girl after my own heart,” Jean joked with a grin. “It’s a date.”

“Alright,” Lilah replied with a chuckle as she got up and head to her own bedroom.

She went to turn off her laptop, Lilah was confronted once more with the New York Film Academy page, which made her pause. When she told Keanu how she considered going to film school as a teenager, Lilah didn’t give him the full picture.

The idea of being a writer, creating stories and universes, especially movies, had always been a dream. She remembered reading The Lord of the Rings for the first time and having that mix of fascination and jealousy of Tolkien for being able to create such a fantastic, magical universe that entertained so many people. Lilah wanted to do that too. Leave a mark in the world, tell a story, make people laugh and cry and love that thing she created.

But Lilah also remembered how her father reacted when she said she wanted to apply for film school. He had actually laughed because he thought she was joking. She knew he didn’t do it to hurt her. He was looking out for her, wanting her to be practical about her future.

What were the odds of Lilah making it in that industry? One in a million considering that she was a woman of color? Considering that it wasn’t all depending on hard work? Was she even good enough to begin with? Well, there was one quick way to find out.

Her eyes shifted back to the computer and Lilah took a seat, browsing her archives. Writing samples were required for submission, a fictional piece and a non-fictional.

She could use one of the reviews she wrote for Novelsy’s blog as a non-fiction sample. Lilah had gotten positive feedback from those. The fiction piece would give her a bit more trouble and after some more searching, Lilah decided on a fantasy story she wrote during college.

Lilah would need to work out a few kinks, but she really liked that one, so she put on her headphones blasting some of her favorite music as the story poured out of her, her fingers flying over the keyboard in a way she never managed to do whenever she was writing her dissertation.

By the end of the morning, Lilah had close to five thousand words written and any thought prepping her class for tomorrow slip her mind, but Lilah didn’t feel guilty at all. There was only excitement as she proofread her material.

After she annexed the documents, Lilah rechecked the application form, hesitating over the campus options.  For a second, the cursor hovered over the LA option, before she selected the NY campus and submitted everything.

Lilah must be crazy for even considering LA. Even if for brief seconds. Her life was in New York. LA had nothing to offer her. Which was a lie, she knew, but fortunately, it was one easy to ignore.

Once that was taken care of, Lilah started to get ready to go to NYU. She had some data she needed to run through the analysis software and Lilah could only do it on campus. She was halfway through getting dressed when her phone rang, the screen showing Keanu’s name and selfie with the puppy beagle.

“Hey,” she greeted as how could Lilah have missed being in love with him for this long when just a phone call from him could brighten up her whole day? “How was filming last night?”

“It was good. Tiring, but good. Basil gave us the night off since we’re managing to keep up with the schedule,” Keanu replied, and Lilah could actually picture his proud smile. “I was thinking we could do something. Since I cut off our movie night short yesterday.”

“We don’t have to,” she said, reminded of Isaac’s comment earlier. “You must be exhausted.”

“A little bit, but…” he paused for a moment. “I want to see you.”

His voice was soft barely a whisper and it almost felt a little like a confession and it set the butterflies loose in her belly and she smiled.

“Well, we could watch something, get some pizza…”

“That sounds great. I’ll drop by later?”

“Sure, but promise to get some rest first?”

“I’m in bed right now. Don’t worry.”

And Lilah couldn’t help but conjure a picture of Keanu shirtless in bed, dark hair splayed over the pillow and hooded eyes. Her breath caught in her throat.

“Good,” she croaked as she tried recomposing herself. “Sleep well.”  

It wasn’t until she hung up that Lilah realized what she had just done and winced. She was such a terrible friend, but now it was too late. She knew Isaac wouldn’t mind. He would be out rehearsing anyway, but Jean…

Lilah stepped out of the room, finding Jean cleaning the breakfast dishes. She hesitated by the counter, drumming her fingers on the top and Jean heaved a sigh.

“What did you do?” she asked, turning around, hands on her hips.

“I might have invited Keanu over,” Lilah replied with a grimace and Jean rolled her eyes. “Sorry!”

“Fine! But only because I have to do inventory anyway.” Lilah let out a happy squeal and squeezed Jean in a hug. “And you’re helping me with the Halloween contest! It was your idea after all.”

“I promise! Thank you!”

Lilah said her goodbyes to Jean and headed out, doing her best to push thoughts on Keanu and her brand-new revelation aside while she worked, managing to be somewhat successful until she got back home to find Keanu, browsing through her bookcase, dressing in a fitted jeans and a t-shirt so tight it seemed to be struggling to contain his biceps.

“Hi,” she greeted, and Keanu flashing her a warm smile.

“Hi. Isaac let me in. That’s ok, right?”

“Of course. I’ll be right with you. I’m just gonna take just a quick shower.”

“Sure.”

Lilah dropped her things in her bedroom and hurried to the bathroom that she shared with Isaac. There was only one suite in the apartment and Jean claimed it since the place was hers after all.  

She went through her usual shower routine, but it wasn’t until Lilah was drying herself that she realized she didn’t bring any clothes with her. Lilah was just so used to shower and then go back to her room to change it kind of became a habit.

If it was Isaac or Jean outside, Lilah wouldn’t even hesitate to step out, but it wasn’t them. It was Keanu and she would have to walk past him to go back to her room.

There was nothing else she could do at this point, so with a deep breath, Lilah pulled the towel tighter against her body, making sure that there wasn’t anything showing before she walked out, refusing to look his way. She did, however, hear his sharp intake of breath disguised as a cough.

Once she was safe inside her room Lilah leaned against the door and let out a sigh. She just paraded in a towel in front of Keanu! Shit! Did he look? She wondered for a second but shook herself out of it. That would lead her nowhere. Instead, she focused on getting dressed, coming back to the living room to find Keanu on the phone. He gave her an apologetic smile as his attention returned to the call.

“My publicist. Sorry about that,” Keanu said, hanging up. “But I’m all yours now.” Lilah couldn’t help her wide grin at the way Keanu took a second to realize what he said and cursed under his breath. “I didn’t mean…”

“I know,” she chuckled. “It’s nice to be on the other side of those for a change.”

Keanu chuckled too, rubbing his nape in embarrassment and part of Lilah want to reach for him, pull him in a hug and a kiss, but that was a very dangerous line of thought so instead, she picked up the pizza menu.

“So, I have a very important thing to ask you,” she started with a somber voice. “It might define if this,” she gestured between them. “Will continue any further.”

“I’m already nervous,” he quipped, turning to look at her better.

“How do you feel about pineapple on pizza?” She inquired and Keanu shook his head in disbelief as he chuckled. “Oh, I’m serious. There is a right answer to this.”

“I don’t like it?” he replied with a hesitant smile and Lilah gaped at him in exaggerated horror

“And you call yourself Hawaiian!” she teased, clicking her tongue in disappointment and making Keanu laugh.

“You do know that Hawaiian pizza isn’t really Hawaiian, right?” He commented and she rolled her eyes.

“Fake Canadian then,” she shot back, sticking her tongue out at him and Keanu snorted in amusement. “Pepperoni?”

“Sure,” he agreed. Lilah called in their order before joining Keanu on the couch.

“So you’re going to Japan?” she asked curiously.

“Yeah. 47 Ronin’s premiere,” Keanu explained, and Lilah just hummed, avoiding his eyes. “What?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You have a very expressive face, Bennett,” he said, and Lilah laughed.

“I don’t want to judge a movie based only on a trailer,” she started hesitantly.

“But you didn’t like it,” he completed with a chuckle.

“It’s not that I didn’t like it, I just… Let’s just say Hollywood doesn’t exactly have a great track record on portraying other cultures.”

“You have a point,” Keanu relented, and Lilah was glad to see he didn’t seem upset with her comment. “We did our best to show respect for Japanese culture and the legend, though.”

“I’m sure you did. This is ok, right? Talking about your movies?”

“It’s fine. I like talking about what I do,” he assured, and she grinned.

“So, I can ask about John Wick? Because I still don’t know what’s about even though I’m technically in it?”

Keanu chuckled and quickly explained the general plot for the movie, hands waving around excitedly as he described the entire process behind getting the movie greenlighted and getting his friends Chad and David involved.

Lilah could tell not only how much Keanu loved what he did by the way he was smiling, by the eagerness in his voice, but she could also see that this wasn’t any movie for him. She hung onto every word of his, chin on her head and her chest felt about to burst at the overwhelming affection Lilah felt for him.

After a moment, Keanu fell silent and he once again did that ducked head, hand covering the mouth chuckle that Lilah learned to associate to him being shy or embarrassed about something.

And maybe he saw it in her eyes, so she quickly looked away. The last thing Lilah needed was Keanu catching on to her feelings and making everything awkward between them. She had come to enjoy their time together too much.

It was a bit of a relief when the pizza finally arrived because it gave them something else to focus on, beside themselves.

“You can try the Hawaiian if you want,” she offered after they moved to the couch to eat, a random movie playing on the TV just for noise. “I’m the only one who likes it in this house.”

“I’m good.”

“Are you sure? It’s really good,” she said in a sing-song voice and Keanu snorted.

“You’re gonna annoy me into trying, aren’t you?” He asked with a sigh that really wasn’t annoyed at all. Lilah just nodded with a grin. “Fine. Give it here.”

Lilah didn’t know why she didn’t just hand him the slice. Instead, she moved closer and lifted it in front of him. Keanu hesitated briefly before he took a bite, lips brushing against her fingers as he did it. It sent shivers down her spine because Lilah hadn’t expected it to feel this intimate.

“And?” she asked, clearing her throat.

“It was better than I was expecting,” Keanu admitted sipping his beer and Lilah grinned. Small victories.

She brought the slice back to herself, but before she could take a bite, Keanu leaned forward and stole the last bit. The movement brought him so close his beard actually brushed again her cheek.

“Hey!” Lilah protested as he grinned smugly.

“You’re the one that wanted me to try it,” he pointed out, bumping his shoulder against hers. Lilah shook her head and picked up another slice, trying to hide her pleased grin.

They talked for a while longer, completely ignoring the TV. It was fun and comfortable, and Lilah knew she could probably spend the entire night like that, but it was getting late and she knew Keanu had to work tomorrow and so did she.

“I think we should call it a night,” she said, turning off the TV.

“We didn’t watch anything,” he pointed out and Lilah shrugged.

“It was still fun. I like just talking to you.”

“Yeah, me too,” Keanu replied, his lips tugging on a smile as he helped her clean up.

“So, Novelsy’s hosting its first costume contest next week. Afterward, Isaac’s theater group is reenacting Rocky Horror Picture Show in this bar. It’s basically a bunch of drunk people singing along to the songs, trying to remember their lines and failing miserably. It’s really fun, do you wanna come?”

“Sure,” Keanu agreed, and Lilah could see the doubt in his eyes, that was quickly replaced with a curious smile. “Are you gonna be in costume?”

“Definitely,” she replied, as she looked at him under her lashes. “Gotta be there to know what it is though.”

“Then I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

There was something in the way that Keanu said it, the way he was looking at her that just stole her breath, making her heart thunder in her chest and there was no way to see this as anything other than flirting.

“See you on Thursday, then,” she said, standing up to press a kiss on his cheek. She barely missed his lips and she really hoped Keanu noticed it was on purpose.

(tbc)

Go to part 8

Permanent Taglist (give me a shout if you want to added or removed)

@poisonedjoinery @ringa-starr @curly-minnie @i-cant-remember-my-old-login @caryled @beyond-antares @kathorax @krazycags01 @meetmeinthematinee @red-pill-blue-pill @baphometwolf666 @soarocks @imagine-the-fanfics @moonlit-raven-haven @cumberbatchbaps @coolbreezeinkeanureeves @kindainlovewithkeanu @sgt-morgan

[kumeko]

rath ki rani (queen of the night)

Character/Pairing: Rika/Mc, Rika/V

A/N: Written for the @mysmelovethroughtheages zine.

Summary: “This can’t go on much longer,” Rika murmured, pressing a kiss against MC’s wrist. In the distance, a peacock cried mournfully.

...

...

...

...

Rika woke at dawn, the palest yellows and oranges painting her room. Outside the palace walls, birds chirped cheerfully, eagerly greeting the rising sun. While once she hadn’t known the names for these birds, each one was now a familiar friend. Myna, darzan, basanta, she recalled the words of her adopted tongue as she languidly stretched.

 It was too early to be awake, too hard to fall asleep. She rolled over to her side, to MC sleeping soundly next to her. Rika rose to her elbow, playing with the dark brown tresses splayed over the intricately designed pillows, the brown standing out to the reds and yellows that decorated most of the palace. Her fingers skimmed MC’s dark brown skin, the warmth of it rivalling that of the Indian summer heat.

 “This can’t go on much longer,” Rika murmured, pressing a kiss against MC’s wrist. In the distance, a peacock cried mournfully.

 -x-

 “Welcome. I will assist you until you have learned our language, your highness,” the translator said, his voice clipped and to the point. There was no grace in how he pronounced Korean, each word barely understandable. Rika fought the urge to correct him.

 Her own pronunciation of his language was no better.

 “Thank you.” Rika nodded, clutching her wrist. Her husband’s palace was nothing like the ones in Korea, whether it was in colour or in style.  Looming in front of her was a fort made of red clay and marble, imposing as much as it was impressive. While she had learned about India from her tutors, she had not expected to go there herself. Maybe she should have paid more attention to their history lessons.

 However, it was too late now. Standing here, in her colourful hanbok, delicate embroidery running the lining, she felt out of place. Even her hair was done up differently than the women she saw around her, with their long braids and tassels. Her fingers dug into her skin as she surveyed the palace entrance. More than a dozen servants lined the entrance, hands clasped as they bowed their heads to her. Flowers rained down from the tops of three elephants. Noticing her gaze, the translator added, “There will be a more elaborate greeting in the main courtyard, your highness.”

 “And my husband, V?” Rika asked, trying to keep her smile up. Everything was overwhelming—the sounds, the sights, the smells. She longed for something familiar, something she knew, even if it was a man she had only seen for a few hours on their wedding day.

 “He is waiting inside.” The translator gestured to the door. “While you were wedded according to Korean custom, we must now have a local ceremony for it to be official here. Welcome to your new home.”

 That’s not the right word, Rika almost said. Home did not exist for people like her, just residences, just temporary abodes. Even Korea could not be called home.

 It wouldn’t be too long before she was sent packing again, anyways. Rika knew how the game was played and it was never in her favour.

 -x-

 “Sorry you had to come all this way,” V murmured when they were alone, after all the festivities had finally died down. As expected of a royal wedding, it lasted long into the night and Rika was positive she could see the sun rising. “I know it must be hard.”

 Rika resisted the urge to frown, not sure if she was understanding him correctly. Her anklets chimed with every step. “Pardon?”

 Their path was lit by candles, their flickering light reflected off the gems imbedded in the wall. In the dim light, V’s long white shirt gave him a ghost-like feel. Rika could barely make out his expression as he leaned forward, gently squeezing her hand. “I know we never had a choice but I want to make you happy.”

 Happy. Rika blinked, not sure what to make of this prince, of his words. Of this land that was so different and yet so similar to her own. Already she had heard the servants gossiping, telling tales of the mistress’s child, brought over to cement the bond between the two territories.

 No matter the language, the insults were still the same.

 Intricate henna ran down her arm like shadows, dark spots that contrasted with her pale skin. Rika followed the lines to her hand, to his fingers intertwined in hers. Somehow this gesture was stranger than the clothing she wore, the long skirts and heavy veils that looked like they were lined with gold. “Thank you,” she answered, in lieu of saying nothing.

 “I’ll leave you for now.” V let go, a smile on his face, and he backed off toward his own chambers, their separate quarters only connected by this one common hall. “I hope you sleep well.”

 She could still feel his hand, long after she’d retired for the night.

 -x-

 “Home,” Rika repeated to herself, lying in bed. “Home.”

 If she said it enough times, perhaps she could believe it. If she said it enough, maybe it would be true.

 “Home,” she said, and tried not to think of cold smiles, of sharp words.

 -x-

 “Wake up, your highness.” A soft, hesitant touch awoke Rika. Blinking, she stared up blearily at a woman with long brown hair, most of it braided back neatly. A stray lock escaped and brushed Rika’s skin as the woman leaned over her, prodding Rika’s shoulder. Noticing her stare, the woman flushed red and stepped back. “Sorry to disturb your rest, your highness.”

 Your highness. The title grated on her ears, an honour she had neither earned nor deserved. Rika sat up, her golden hair spilling over her shoulders in a disarray. Running a hand through it, she noticed the woman’s vibrantly coloured clothing, pale pinks and greens that somehow suited each other far better than they ought to. “You are?”

 “Ah.” The woman’s blush deepened, her almond hands clasped together as she bowed. “I am MC, your main attendant.”

 “MC.” Rika rolled the name in her mouth, the foreign syllables pleasant to her tongue. MC swallowed nervously, her eyes wide and blinking. She looked as awkward as Rika felt and for a moment, she was glad to see she wasn’t the only one out of place. Looking out the open terrace connected to her room, Rika could see clear, blue skies. “It’s morning.”

 “Yes, your highness.” MC smiled, a small thing like a budding flower waiting to bloom. She straightened her posture and headed to the door. “I will prepare your clothes for the day.”

 “My clothes…” Rika glanced to the still closed trunks nearby, the brand-new clothing her adoptive mother, the queen, had bought solely for this marriage. All of it was still closed tight and she did not want to open it.

 “We have prepared many traditional outfits for you,” MC added, following her gaze to the trunk. She tucked the stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Unless you would prefer something from home?”

 “No, I would prefer something else.” Rika tore her eyes away. There was nothing she really wanted from it, nothing that she could consider hers.

 “Excellent.” MC bowed once more before turning around. The scent of flowers lingered after she left.

 -x-

 “I hope you enjoyed your night.” Having just exited his quarters, V greeted her with a smile, as bright and warm as the sun. “Were there any issues?”

 Her husband was open, far too open, and she wanted to flee back to her room, to hide under the covers. She wasn’t sure where she stood with this strange, strange man who did not demand anything of her. How much of that expression was honest and how much a lie? Rika gripped her hands tightly. “I slept well. Yourself?”

 “Me too.” V’s eyes crinkled as his smile deepened. He stepped forward, his hands slowly reaching for her.

 Rika resisted the urge to step backward, to crash into MC as she fled the room. It had been strange enough when MC had touched her, her hands firm as she dressed Rika. There was no malice in V’s actions and Rika didn’t know how to react to it.  When she didn’t move, he carefully wrapped his fingers around her wrist. His touch burned, his skin skimming hers as he slid her hands through something. Before he let go, he placed a small kiss on her inner wrist, causing the maids behind her to titter.

 “A wedding gift,” he explained as she stared at the bangles on her wrist, bright green and reflecting the sun. They gave a soft clang as they hit one another, like small birds chirping.

 “Thank you.” She wrapped her other hand around the bangles, still warm from his touch. Perhaps V was honest then, about his feelings for her, about this marriage. Rika had not expected love, had not even hoped for it, but maybe it was possible.

 Maybe even she could be loved.

 -x-

 When Rika was young, the maids told tales of two siblings. A brother and sister who escaped death, climbing to the heavens to become the sun and moon.

 I’m scared of the dark, the sister had told her brother, clutching his hand when it was her turn to take to the skies.

 Then I’ll be the moon and you’ll be the sun, the brother had answered kindly, patting her head reassuringly.

 Rika had been scared too, but no one had come for her.

 -x-

 “Here are the gardens, your highness,” MC gestured as they strolled behind the main palace. Around them, fountains of waters shot up and long pathways led into smaller closed gardens, surrounded by stone or hedges as a fence. They were very systematic, squares of flowers surrounded by squares of water. Peacocks, doves, and other birds wandered through, barely giving them a thought as they walked.

 Rika examined each place on their tour with interest. She could only name maybe half of the plants and animals she spotted. “They are impressive.”

 “Over there is my favourite place.” MC indicated a path that led to a small building. She smiled brightly, the words bubbling out of her. “No one goes there but there’s a little grove inside and the branches look like a lattice.”

 “That sounds lovely.” MC had a magnetic smile—whenever Rika saw it, she wanted to smile too. A pair of rabbits scurried across the path and Rika watched them disappear into the bushes. “There are a lot of animals here.”

 “For your enjoyment, your highness.” MC pointed to a row of mesh cages on their right, large rooms filled with more birds and rabbits. Quickly glancing at Rika, she fiddled her fingers. “If I could…”

 Noticing her hesitation, Rika smiled kindly. “Please speak.”

 “What was your palace like, your highness?” MC twirled her stray lock with a finger. The real question, what is Korea like, lay underneath it all.

 “Our gardens were more…” Rika paused, trying to think of the right word. “Wild? Water?” She frowned, not knowing how to translate.

 Sensing her difficulties, MC bit her lip before hesitantly adding, “Manicured?”

 “Manicured?” Rika repeated, not sure what it meant.

 Flustered, MC rubbed her upper arm slowly. “That means…um…neat and clean?”

 “I see.” Rika considered the word and shook her head. “Partially but not quite.”

 “Then maybe…” MC’s brow furrowed, deep in thought, and Rika covered her mouth to hide her laugh. It was rather cute how seriously she was taking this. “Organized?”

 “Not really.” Rika crossed her arms, tapping her fingers against her skin. “We try not to manage our gardens as much—to have it as natural as possible.” When she noticed MC’s enthralled stare, she looked away sheepishly. “Not that I’d know, I did not get to visit them often.”

 “Why?” MC’s brow raised, puzzled.

 “That’s…” Rika bit her lip. Even now, as far away as she was from Korea, she could still feel her aunt’s shadow loom over her. “Maybe next time?”

 “Whenever you want to.” Her expression was terribly gentle before MC turned away and pointed at the path to their left. “Do you want to see the fish? We have a pond over there.”

 -x-

 “I will be in the next room over, your highness.” MC carefully blew out the candles in Rika’s room, leaving only a sliver of moonlight to light her way. “If you need anything, just call.”

 The tightly woven strips sank under Rika’s weight as she shifted her position, watching MC slowly pick her way out of the room. Their rooms were not too far apart, and it was strange to sleep this close to another, to not be alone in this darkness.

 Rika closed her eyes and repeated her mantra to herself, I am home.

 -x-

 “How is lunch, Rika?” V asked as he sipped his tea.

 He was the only one who called her by name anymore. Seated on a cushion nearby, Rika curled her toes. His eyes had been on her all morning, only straying when another called for his attention. She didn’t know what to do with this level of attention and all it did was remind her of last night, of his hands on her as they consummated their marriage. “Good,” she managed.

 “I’m glad.” His lips curved up and she tried hard not think about what else that mouth could do. About what else that mouth did do. Her skin still burned from playing with the sun.

 -x-

 MC’s hands were gentle as she brushed Rika’s hair. Her fingers combed through her locks, slowly separating any tangles with a delicate touch. “Your hair is very thick, your highness.” As though to demonstrate, she braided Rika’s hair quickly and then let go. Within minutes, her hair whirled open, incapable of maintaining the shape that MC’s did so naturally.

 Rika laughed; no matter how many times she’d witnessed it, it was still amusing. Reaching up, she twirled one of MC’s bands with a finger. “Your hair is so different.”

 “Y-yes,” MC stuttered, her cheeks tinted pink. “Just a little, your highness.”

 Something about that expression made Rika want to tease her. Pulling the strand closer, she kissed it. “Very silky too.”

 MC’s skin turned a darker red, almost bursting into flames. Particularly since this forced her to lean in closer, to have her face just next to Rika’s. Perhaps her aunt had been right, there was something sadistic about her. She saw all of this and wanted nothing more than to spread that red to her ear, to her neck, to the skin that disappeared beneath her shirt.

 “Your highness?” MC’s voice trembled.

 But Rika was a princess and she had to be kind and gentle. Releasing MC, she faced the mirror once more. “Sorry for the interruption. Please, continue.”

 -x-

 If V’s smiles were like the sun, his kisses were like the rain. Gentle and life sustaining, his lips pressed against hers with no more force than that of the breeze. If Rika wanted to, she could step back and away, and she had no doubt he would smile at that response. There were no clouds to this prince, no shadows to hide in, and it threatened to burn her away.

 -x-

 “I did not think you were serious, your highness,” MC whispered, sitting across from Rika. They were out on the terrace, the night stars strung above them like the anklets around her ankles. She looked around furtively, still nervous about their actions. “Are you sure I will suffice?”

 “You are more than good enough.” Rika watched as a cloud covered the moon, leaving them in near darkness. Bird cages decorated her terrace, gifts from V, and the slight rustle of wings were the only movement from the sleeping creatures. “I want to be more fluent. I have to live here, after all.”

 “That’s good but wouldn’t day lessons be a better choice?” MC wrapped her arms around her waist, her fingers tapping on her hip. “You will lose sleep this way and I know his royal highness could arrange for a far better tutor than me.”

 A tutor. Rika bit her lip, shaking her head. She had met enough new people to last a lifetime. Besides, it was humiliating enough to learn a new language without having to worry about a stranger’s judgemental gaze. “I’d rather have you.”

 MC smiled, torn between troubled and pleased. On her lap, she played with her fingers as she gazed around. “Do you want to start with the birds? On your right is a myna.”

 -x-

 Seated outside, Rika head a soft cry, a bird wailing in the midday sun. Looking around, she tried to spot the creature. “What’s that?”

 “A peacock.” MC looked around before pointing to a nearby tree. “Over there.”

 “Where?” She shaded her eyes, blocking out the sun. The foliage was thick and a breeze gently ruffled the leaves.

 “There.” MC pointed at the base of the tree. A brown bird bobbed along the ground, blending in with the earth. As she pulled back, her hand grazed Rika’s shoulder and she recoiled as though stung. “I’m sorry, your highness.”

 “It’s fine.” A thrill ran through Rika’s spine, not unlike the one she got from V’s kiss, and she didn’t know what to do with it. Brushing a lock behind her ear to distract herself, she added, “You can call me Rika.”

 “Huh?” MC stared at her as though she grew a second head. “No I—I can’t, that…you are—”

 Rika grabs her wrist, another spike of electricity running through her bones. Ignoring it, she shook her head vigorously.  “When we’re alone, when no one is there, please call me Rika.” She hated the desperate edge her voice took, the pleading tone to it. “Please.”

 MC swallowed, her lips parting slightly before she nodded. Slowly, hesitantly, she called out, “Rika?”

 “Yes?” She smiled gratefully. It had been too long since she’d last heard her name.

 -x-

 “You can open your eyes now,” MC murmured in the shell of Rika’s ear. She was close, far too close, but Rika couldn’t bring it in her to push her away.

 Instead, with a repressed shiver, she opened her eyes. The sight before her made her gasp. There was something ethereal about the palace gardens at night, something different about the flowers as they glowed faintly in the moonlight. The moon hung above them, heavy and pregnant, and Rika remembered being locked in the dark, with only the faintest sliver of light to stare at.

 “Do you like it?” MC asked, shifting on her feet.

 Now she wasn’t alone, not anymore. Rika smiled at MC gratefully. “It’s beautiful.”

 MC gave a small smile, a crescent moon, and pointed at pale white flowers. “We call those the Queen of the Night. They’re very fragrant.”

 Rika sniffed, a sweet, cloying scent filling the air. “That smells nice.”

 MC brushed a strand of hair back, hooking it around her ear. The movement caught Rika’s eye, the sight making her swallow. Following her hand, Rika caught it, pulling her closer. She could see her reflection in MC’s wide eyes before she leaned in and kissed her.

 For a brief moment, she was afraid it was a mistake as MC stiffened in her hands. Then MC pressed back, far more aggressive than Rika had credited her with, her lips parting as their kisses deepened. If V burned her, MC froze her. There was something entirely different about this, something that felt, for once, entirely Rika. There was no marriage or compulsion with MC. There was only desire, only want, only the feel of her skin against Rika’s.

 Her kisses tasted a little like freedom and Rika drowned in them.

 -x-

 “I’ll chase the shadows away,” V murmured into her skin, his breath hot. A shiver ran up her spine as he planted a kiss on her shoulder, his touch gentle. “I’ll protect you from the dark.”

 Once she would have been content with that. But Rika had come to know the moon’s faint rays, the night’s beauty. She could no longer run away from the dark.

 -x-

 From the palace roof, Rika watched the sun set, the last rays of light tint the evening sky. The clouds glowed, outlined in gold and pink, and she leaned against MC’s shoulder.

 “What is it?” MC asked, threading her hand in Rika’s.

  In the privacy of her quarters, there was freedom. Freedom in MC’s arms, in V’s love, and for a woman who never had a choice before, she had too many now. Rika pressed her lips to MC’s temple, feeling her tremble from the touch. “It’s nothing.”

 This couldn’t go on for much longer. A reckoning was coming and Rika had to make a choice.

[arlingtonpark]

SNK 102 Review

Can I start off by just saying how great it is that there are people in this world who actually care?

Marley is a country that weaponizes civilians and forcibly transforms them in to monsters as a means of bombardment. They persecute the Eldians who live under the authority of their government. They have no qualms with knowingly violating the rules of war if it gives them the advantage.

Eren, for his part, showed a clear disregard for the lives of the people in the apartment building he destroyed and for the lives of Reiner and Falco, both of whom had surrendered to him and showed no signs of resisting.

When the Survey Corps trapped Pieck and Porko, they laid straw at the bottom of the trap so their fall would be cushioned, and they even gave them food and water. Jean scolds Floch for fighting in a way that needlessly endangers civilian lives. Mikasa is tearing up at the sight of what Eren has done.

When the SC fight, they fight with civility and humanity. They treat even their greatest of enemies with care and compassion. They do not try to blow them up for no reason.

God bless these people. They care. They f!@#ing care.

Well, most of them anyway.

My initial reaction to the new Floch is “what the heck!?” Last we saw, he was scolding Eren as immature and hard-headed. Now he’s practically a member of the Cult of Eren.

Have you forgotten how much of humanity inside the walls has [sic] been killed by these bastards outside of it? They ate us alive, you know!

This is literally something Eren could have said towards the start of the series when the focus was fighting the titans. Now, for Floch at least, it seems humanity outside the walls are the new titans.

But, of course, they aren’t like the titans. They’re human beings, and their inherent dignity as human beings must be respected. It reflects very poorly on Floch that he doesn’t understand this.

This isn’t even close to payback!

Payback? Hey, Floch, that’s an Eldian apartment building you’re blowing up there. Whether it’s the mainland Eldians or the Paradis Eldians we’re talking about here, at the end of the day, they’re both groups of Eldians, and they’re both hated because they are Eldians. They’re all in the same boat here, but Floch is apparently too blinded by his hatred to realize this. He seems to believe that everyone outside the walls are devils that need to die.

There’s an important question to be asked here: how many more people have been taken in by this way of thinking?  

Eren showed us. He said to fight. We can’t just wait inside the walls for death to come. That’s the devil we need right now. 

The implication in this dialogue are very interesting.

It makes sense that after the revelations regarding the outside world, the question of how to approach the outside world would dominate not just debates among government officials and the military, but also the general public.

The clear implication of what Floch is saying is that Eren took an aggressive, hawkish stance on what Paradis’ foreign policy should be. Would it surprise anyone if there were other likeminded people on Paradis for Eren to align with? And would it surprise anyone if these people looked to Eren, holder of the Founding Titan and war hero, for leadership? If they rallied around him?

What I’m saying is that the Cult of Eren might actually be a thing. If only informally.

Eren showed us. He said to fight. We can’t just wait inside the walls for death to come. That’s the devil we need right now.

Not only that, but what does Floch’s actions and statements say about Eren? Floch believes that Paradis needs to fight to survive, and he’s getting that from Eren. And what about his belief that those outside the walls deserve to die as reprisals for what they’ve done to the walldians? Is he getting that from Eren too? Or is this just his own way of thinking?

Picture this scenario: let’s say that Eren did lead a faction on Paradis calling for aggressive action against the world. Let’s also suppose that after spending time on the mainland, he realizes he’s wrong. He still kills civilians, of course, but he does so not out of animus, but because he sees it as a necessary evil. The point is that Eren realizes he went too far, so he’s been “reformed” in a sense, but that still leaves all the various people who’ve been radicalized by him to deal with, and they’re not just going to let go of their animus simply because their leader is getting cold feet.

In other words, it’s “too little, too late.”

I’m not so bold as to say this is what happened, it’s largely speculation, but something like this would not be out of place in this story. In fact, it would be downright tragic. Eren sees he was ignorant, but in his ignorance, he’s created a monster that will outlive him: the people who will continue to believe in his ignorant ideology even though Eren himself no longer subscribes to it.

And Floch calls Eren “the devil we need right now.” Clearly, this is a reference to his attitude towards Erwin, whom he also believed was a devil that they needed. Floch realizes the difference between the two, right? Because they’re not the same.

You know, when I started off, I was not expecting to write so much about only two pages out of 46.

Moving right along, someone should give Gabi a hug. It just goes to show you that no amount of training, even training you excel at, can prepare you for the horrors of war.

The one thing that puzzles me though, is what role will she play in this battle? She’s only a kid, she has no titan powers, and she’s only armed with a rifle. Presumably, Isayama plans for her to make a meaningful contribution to the fight, but how? This had better not end up being like Touka in the Tokyo Ghoul finale. 

My best guess is that she’ll show up out of nowhere at a crucial moment in the fight and get off a shot at one of the major characters. They’ll either be seriously wounded, or maybe even killed outright.

The Warhammer Titian is easily the coolest titan. Having the pilot not even be in the body? That was so clever! I mean, just, oh my God, that is so cool!

And I’m curious about the nature of their ability. Clearly, the stuff that’s covering the Warhammer’s body is made of the same material as the spikes on the ground and the various weapons we’ve seen them use so far. And yet, this materiel doesn’t seem to impede their mobility. This hardening materiel covers them, but they can move freely. Does this mean they can control the tensile strength of this materiel at will? That would be so cool! If that’s the case, then they would get the benefits of armor without the drawbacks of impeded movement.

There’s another thing to discuss here, and I’ll let Magath say it:

Run amok while you still can. You’re fates are sealed. Every major nation that lost government officials in this massacre is now a party to this war. The whole world now knows of the threat of the Eldian Empire, as Willy Tybur had planned. This world can no longer allow any of you to live. But those devils have to realize that themselves. And in that case, what exactly are they thinking if they’re doing this and--

Good question. Why are they doing this?

My initial impression was that the Survey Corps was here to bail out Eren, who had gone rogue. I still believe this. Mikasa’s reaction clearly indicates that they were in the dark about at least some of Eren’s plans.

Really, it’s just a question of how much coordination there was between Eren and the Survey Corps. There seems to be an understanding between the two that they need to take out the Warhammer Titan, but it can’t be known if this is due to coordination beforehand, or if it’s just so obvious that this is something they need to get done that they’re all on the same page without needing to talk it over.

Long term though, I think the Survey Corps is in a bind. They’re deep in enemy territory; the Jaw, Cart, and Beast titans have entered the fray, and they, unlike the Warhammer titan, are not fatigued from battle yet; and that’s not to mention the reinforcements coming. Also, Eren has been impaled again. The situation is on the verge of spinning out of their control, and things can only get worse the longer they stay.

One final thing. At the start of the chapter, Magath is calling in reinforcements, including the navy. Why the navy? Is Liberio a coastal city? If not, then what would be the point?

And then there’s the soldiers Magath is calling in. All 30,000 of them. What? Can 30,000 people even fit inside the internment zone? (Note that I’m assuming the internment zone is only the size of a large neighborhood.) There’s no way the Survey Corps managed to sneak more than a few dozen people in here. Add to that the fact that they only have one titan on their side compared to the four Marley has, and 30,000 just sounds unreasonable.

I should probably talk about Zeke and his allegiances, but I’m not going to.

He looks shady, and as per storytelling 101, people who look shady do shady things. He’s implied to have met with Eren, but there’s just too many unknowns to speculate, so I’m not going to.

I will say, however, that I don’t think we can rule out this being an elaborate ruse on Isayama’s part. This wouldn’t be the first time he’s yanked our chain. Remember when he used some creative editing to make it seem like Historia turned in to a titan? And what about just a couple of chapters ago when everyone was talking about how Helos was Jean in disguise? Yeah, that ended up being a whole lotta nothing.

In fact, go back to chapter 99 and check out how Helos is presented. Right off the bat, the first we see of him is a close up on his face, but framed so we can’t see his eyes, inviting us to guess who he is. Isayama wanted us to guess, even though he had no intention of Helos’ identity amounting to anything. Because he wanted to toy with us.

This may well be the case with Zeke.

I don’t know what Isayama has planned, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.

[anghraine]

“the words we’ve both fallen under” - fic

So, the people (aka @brynnmclean and @ladytharen) have spoken! They chose the queer Rogue One AU (Jyn/f!Cassian + Baze/Chirrut + Bodhi/Luke) for the Theoretical Fic, which was spawned by @therebelcaptainnetwork’s Friday prompt (“hope”). Like everything ever, it grew well beyond anything I anticipated. OH WELL.

fandom: Star Wars

characters: Jyn Erso, Cassian Andor (as Cassia); Jyn/Cassian, implied Bodhi/Luke

verse: the queer Rogue One AU, of course!

length: 2k

stuff that happens: Jyn and Cassia after the bedsharing!

Jyn didn’t begrudge the Rebels their victory celebrations, which extended for several weeks, at least at night. She didn’t even think of herself as separate from the Rebellion, exactly—not after Scarif.

It was just … crowded. Very crowded, considering that this particular cantina grew out of a skeletal base on Solis 2, where her team had just arrived with some soldiers and senators. And it was loud. Easily as loud as Massassi’s cantina, spurring her nerves to screeching alert. She could endure that, had endured it many times, but she didn’t want to. And this was not a time for doing anything she didn’t want to.

Searching for a discreet exit, Jyn must have betrayed some part of what she felt. She didn’t usually, and nobody seemed to be paying particular attention to her—she’d taken care to wedge herself behind Baze—but suddenly, she felt Cassia’s mouth near her ear.

Only the habits of years kept Jyn motionless. Her blood ran cold, or maybe hot; she couldn’t tell the difference.

“Do you want some fresh air?” Cassia murmured.

Jyn tried not to look grateful.

“Yes.”

Cassia shifted in some unobtrusive way that placed her at Jyn’s side, hand warm against her back. With some resignation, Jyn suspected that last was her imagination. The leather vest hardly registered slight changes in human temperature. And Cassia ran cold, anyway. Jyn had shared her bed enough times (eleven) to know that it wasn’t some Cassia façade.

Platonically shared her bed. Jyn had even managed to platonically pin Cassia to the bed and straddle her hips, which took some doing.

Cassia made a smooth excuse that Jyn didn’t bother listening to, but which everyone accepted. More or less. Baze actually smiled—it was faint, but unmistakably a smile. That struck Jyn as deeply suspicious. But he didn’t say anything, so neither did she, instead letting Cassia maneuver them outside without incident.

(Jyn couldn’t remember the last time she’d tolerated anyone maneuvering her at all. Well, anyone else, since they’d done the same thing back on Jedha. Cassia might just be an exception. Sometimes.)

As soon as the doors snapped together behind them, Jyn’s tensed muscles relaxed. Cassia drew a breath of the base’s crisp, cool air.

“That’s better.”

Jyn shoved her hands into the pockets of her jacket. “Beer and sweat not your favourite smells?”

Cassia kept her—their—quarters in pristine order, regardless of where those quarters happened to be. Jyn herself couldn’t have cared less, but once she realized that Cassia didn’t expect her to assist in any meaningful way, she shrugged off her initial irritation. If Cassia wanted to soothe herself with colour coordinating her (many) outfits, fine. Jyn soothed herself with cleaning and loading her blasters, after all.

(By now, she didn’t just possess a nonzero number of blasters, but several, only two of which originally belonged to Cassia. That alone would nearly have made everything worth it, and … she had quite a bit more than that alone.)

“No, not really,” said Cassia dryly, heading down stairs that led to a narrow steel platform beneath the main portion of the cantina. This particular base consisted almost entirely of platforms, square buildings, and assorted stairs and ramps, all in featureless grey metal. Jyn gathered that it had been cobbled together out of some abandoned Imperial installation. Or a Republic one, maybe. It had railings and everything.

“I figured.”

“Too many people, too,” Cassia added, tone suspiciously neutral.

Jyn eyed the back of her head. “I thought you were a … people person.”

“Really?”

Thinking back over the … five weeks they’d known each other, Jyn supposed it could go either way. Cassia always had something to say, but she wasn’t exactly outgoing. “You’re good with them.”

“When I have to be.” She stopped and leaned against the platform’s wide rail while Jyn caught up. “I like the quiet.”

That pleased Jyn in a fuzzy way she didn’t care to interrogate. She settled for an indistinct noise of agreement.

Suitably enough, they continued side-by-side without talking, making their way to the furthest wall. There they remained visible from the cantina, if anyone chose to look, but at least didn’t stand beneath the noisiest part of it.

It was nice. Jyn, not overburdened by self-consciousness, felt just enough of it to avoid saying so. But she enjoyed everything: the coolness of the air, not heavy like Yavin 4’s, the easy silence, the mingling light of Solis’s moons, the smaller two eclipsing the largest into a slice of gold. She had two blasters in her holster, no enemies in the vicinity, and Cassia at her side, her limp all but gone. Without even touching her crystal, Jyn felt calm and contented in a way she very rarely experienced, far beyond her usual stoicism.

She didn’t look at Cassia. They shared quarters, a bed, and most hours of day and night; while Jyn welcomed the eagerly yielding Cassia that now and then shattered her nightmares, she took care to separate her from the actual woman. At this point, she already had seen Cassia a) young and beautiful in her silly parka, b) drenched from hair to boots, c) striding past in an Imperial uniform that fit her much better than the Alliance one, d) collapsing in Jyn’s arms, and e) swathed in shadows under Jyn’s body. She didn’t feel the need to try herself further by adding ‘gilded by moonlight’ to the rest.

Not that she’d be able to avoid it, really.

“Have you seen Bodhi?” Jyn asked.

“Yes, in the cantina,” said Cassia, unperturbed by the abruptly broken silence. “Not in the best mood. I think he ran into Skywalker.”

“Again?” Jyn didn’t mind Skywalker in himself: rather liked him, in fact. He’d personally asked her if he could name his squadron after her team, and had possibly less patience for cowards and fools than she did. But for whatever reason, he and Bodhi had taken an almost immediate dislike to each other. “I don’t even know what they find to disagree about.”

Cassia paused. “Skywalker is attractive, isn’t he? I’m not the best judge.”

Raw determination kept Jyn’s eyes on the blotted moon. She blinked several times at it. “You think that’s why—?”

“A factor, perhaps,” Cassia replied. “I can’t say for sure, of course. It could be nothing more than Skywalker hating Imperials without much ... discrimination.”

Jyn could understand that, in general. She rarely saw one without wanting to club them into a bloody corpse. But not Bodhi, who had defected and suffered and sacrificed, whatever he might have been or done before.

“We all hate Imperials,” said Jyn. “Does he think he’s special?”

Cassia’s hand tapped idly along the railing. Jyn would bet credits that she had a frown on her face.

“Maybe.”

Jyn would have blamed her uncommunicativeness on right, she’s a spy, if not for the fact that Cassia would tell her pretty much anything (unclassified), if asked. She just never volunteered it, so Jyn—or someone, but usually Jyn—always had to drag it out in pieces.

“All right, what did they do to him? Do you know?”

“Burned his family alive,” said Cassia.

A few moments passed without a word from either. Above them, somebody laughed, followed by others, before their voices faded into some other part of the room.

“Fuck,” Jyn muttered.

Cassia shifted again. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“No,” said Jyn automatically. “That’s not—that’s not fair to Bodhi, but—damn.” She’d hoped it was a bit more mundane.

“None of us are fair to each other,” replied Cassia, her voice still more even. “Not always.”

That snapped Jyn’s resolve. She glanced over her, but Cassia was staring ahead, her back a straight line from her shoulders to the cybernetics hidden under her skin. Attraction seemed rather besides the point.

“I know,” said Jyn quietly.

She suspected it might be as close to an apology as Cassia got. Since I’m not used to people sticking around was as close to one as Jyn had offered, she decided she’d take it.

Features softening, Cassia turned her head to face her, amusement flickering into her face. “Anyway, I think the unfairness has gone both ways with them.” She cleared her throat. “As it were.”

Jyn didn’t mean to smile, but she did, anyway. “You’re never going to forget that, are you?”

“I never forget anything,” Cassia said.

Jyn shook her head. “Then I’ll expect you to remember my birthday every year.”

Cassia’s low, startled laugh altogether banished Bodhi and Skywalker’s whatever-it-was. “If I know where you are.”

“Shouldn’t be hard,” said Jyn.

The amusement faded into something else, sweeter and more cautious. “You’re staying?—I—you mean, indefinitely?”

Jyn thought of a good half-dozen responses, alternately snide and earnest. But she only said,

“Yes.”

Cassia’s face broke into a bright, dimpled smile. Jyn, who had not expected that particular attack, felt dazed. Just a little. Physical awareness flooded back, or became relevant again. The golden moonlight caught in Cassia’s eyes, her skin, even her dark hair, gleaming from within. The hazy glow of it gentled her features without weakening them, her face warm and pretty rather than starkly beautiful. For all of that, her eyes fixed on Jyn with the same elated intensity that she remembered from the not-apology in the hangar, and after.

Speaking of unfair—

“How long do you think we’ll stay here?” she asked. “Assuming it’s not classified.”

Cassia seemed puzzled but undisturbed. “Not very long. We want to keep the small bases as unobtrusive as possible, and the rest will be scattering from Yavin soon. We’ll need a new central base.”

“Colder than Massassi, I hope,” said Jyn, vengefully.

Cassia looked betrayed. Her smile turning crooked, she twisted back towards the base below them, though without the rigidity of before. “You’re the one who’ll suffer if we get stationed there.”

“I’ll live,” said Jyn. “Not all of us are delicate flowers.”

“Really, Jyn?”

Jyn grinned openly, leaning against the platform’s side. “So what about you? Are you hoping for anything in particular?”

Cassia’s fingers splayed out on the railing, then grasped it. She wet her lip.

“A few things,” she said.

Jyn gave up.

“Cassia?”

When Cassia turned towards her, inquisitive, Jyn didn’t wait long enough for fear. She stepped forward, curled her fingers into Cassia’s jacket, and kissed her.

Cassia’s lips parted in what Jyn assumed to be surprise rather than invitation, but within a moment, her mouth was pressing back, as soft and careful as in the turbolift. They’d finally circled back, finally—and then her hands slid about Jyn’s waist, up her back. It was so little, but Jyn felt drunk, heady and flushed all over, more than she’d been capable of before, maybe more than she’d been capable of in her life. She had her arms about Cassia’s neck again, fingers walking against the nape and threading into her hair, smooth and soft instead of stiff with sweat and blood. She pressed closer when Cassia tilted her head to slant her mouth against Jyn’s, both panting.

No, Cassia was saying something, whispering against Jyn’s lips. Cassia and her words; she always had something. Even now! A very tiny bit exasperated, Jyn slowed and forced herself to pay attention.

“Jyn,” Cassia murmured. “Jyn, Jyn, Jyn—”

Jyn almost shuddered, fingers clutching in Cassia’s hair. She’d never kissed anyone who knew her name. Anyone who knew her at all. And this wasn’t anyone—this was—

“Cassia,” she breathed.

They stepped back for air, because they had to. Inevitably, that first moment was awkward. Neither quite knew what to say, and it’d been so much even though it was nothing they hadn’t done already. But Jyn took in Cassia’s rumpled hair and swollen mouth and half-shy smile, and could only think, again.

A small breeze rustled past. Cassia shivered.

Jyn had too much self-respect to say I’ll warm you up, or anything of the sort. To go by Cassia’s flush and thinly-veiled pleasure, her face said it for her.

“That one of the things you were hoping for?” she asked.

Cassia could have said something clever, or beautiful, or wry: Jyn didn’t doubt that she had it in her. But she just laid her hand against Jyn’s cheek, her eyes wide, almost stunned, as she smoothed the fringe aside.

Cassia leaned down and kissed her again.

[oliverphisher]

K E Osborn

Australian author K E Osborn was born and raised in Adelaide, South Australia. With a background in graphic design and a flair for all things creative, she felt compelled to write the story brewing in her mind. 

Get Rocked? (The Next Generation Series) (Volume 2) by K E Osborn (2015-08-16) By K E Osborn

Writing gives her life purpose. It makes her feel, laugh, cry, and get completely enveloped with the characters and their story lines. She feels completely at home when writing and wouldn’t consider doing anything else. She wrote Get Rocked? (2015).

What are one to three books that have greatly influenced your life? 

The Secret Garden – Frances Hodgson Burnett

The Secret Garden (HarperClassics) By Frances Hodgson Burnett

When I think of books from my childhood, this is the one that I always remember. It constantly sat beside me on my bedside table, and when it came out as a movie, I was so excited to see it. I loved it that much.

Fifty Shades of Grey – EL James

Fifty Shades of Grey (Fifty Shades, Book 1) By E L James

This series had such a significant impact on not only my career, but I believe the entire romance industry as it is now. Without this series paving the way for romance to be acceptable, I’m not sure I would have gotten into writing. Reading FSOG gave me the courage to write the stories brewing in my mind. I know I, and a lot of other authors out there, have a lot to thank EL James for.

Thoughtless – SC Stephens

Thoughtless By S.C. Stephens

This series is what dawned the rock genre phase I went through. After reading Thoughtless and loving the emotions it pulled from me, plus my love of music, I wanted to emulate that in my own stories. Now, I have four different rocker series published,and it all grew from reading Thoughtless. 

What purchase of $100 or less has most positively impacted your life in the last six months (or in recent memory)?      

An ergonomic keyboard and mouse. Honestly, you need the best of everything when you sit at a desk for eight hours a day.

How has a failure, or apparent failure, set you up for later success? 

It has taught me to be resilient. When you think things aren’t going your way, or that nothing is ever going to get better, things will always have a way of working themselves out in the end. There will always be a fix to a problem. Or if there isn’t, worrying over it isn’t going to resolve it either. If it can’t be fixed, and it isn’t life or death, then you can’t continue to stress over it. If it’s not going to cause you financial strain, cause you medical issues or your imminent death–let it go. When you let things go, you can work harder, and you become more efficient. When you can do that, things naturally fall into place, and you become more successful.

Are there any quotes you think of often or live your life by?

‘Just keep swimming’from Finding Nemo- is one I live by every day.

This author stuff is damn hard work. You need to push yourself every day to keep relevant, to keep up with the market, to just keep writing. So my motto has been for quite some time, to ‘Just keep swimming.’ Keep up the good fight and never give up, no matter how hard it gets, because in the end, I love what I do, and for every bad day there’s a dozen more that are great.

What is one of the best investment in a writing resource you’ve ever made? 

The Emotion Thesaurus by Angela Ackerman & Becca Puglisi

What is an unusual habit or an absurd thing that you love? 

My unusual habit is when I sit down to write first thing in the morning, I have to have a cup of tea. I feel like if I don’t have one, my routine isn’t in order, and I get up in the end and make one anyway. It’s a habit now, and something that’s kind of ritualistic for me. If I don’t have my cup of tea, I can’t start for the day.

Weird, I know.

In the last five years, what new belief, behaviour, or habit has most improved your life? 

Self-editing is a must before sending it to anyone. Never send a draft to anyone, unless you are happy with what it contains.

Also, trying to eat healthily and exercise (though this doesn’t always happen in a busy author’s day, unfortunately).

What advice would you give to a smart, driven aspiring author? What advice should they ignore? 

ALWAYS send your manuscript to a reliable editor. Don’t ever think you’re good enough to not have your book edited and proofread. No one is ever that good. They are there not only to find your grammar and spelling mistakes but to check a variety of things we can miss (like timeline issues, inconsistencies, etc.) Once you have found a good editor, never let them go.

Make sure you have an amazing cover artist working with you on your cover. After all, the cover is the first thing a reader will see. If your cover is subpar, it represents the writing inside. Think about that. Your branding is everything. You might be the next ‘big thing,’ but if your cover is average, readers will judge your writing based on that fact alone. Image is everything in this industry – so branding should be at the forefront of your mind. Readers need to be able to spot you in a sea of covers, so always having the same branding can help them find you more easily.

If you haven’t invested some money in your book with a great cover, compelling blurb, and sharp editing, then, unfortunately, you will get what you paid for in return.  You are a small business, and you will need to spend money to make money.

Ignore people telling you to take out loans to advertise on social media. Spend what you can afford. Obviously, the more you can spend, the better the return will be, but don’t fall into traps where you need to take out repayments to finance your advertising. That’s dangerous territory. Do what you can. If you can add a little extra into your marketing budget, I recommend it, but don’t blow the bank in a way you can’t manage.

What are bad recommendations you hear in your profession often? 

Selling books at $1.99, this is the dead zone of marketing. Readers don’t seem to buy books at this price. Maybe it’s because they don’t see value in a book at $1.99. Always remember, you are worth the price readers will pay for your books.  Never have a book at 99c unless it’s for promotional reasons.

Beware of stepping away from your brand and genre, always keep it in mind.  Even if it means having a pen name for a genre that is too far away from what you are known for.

In the last five years, what have you become better at saying no to (distractions, invitations, etc.)? 

For me, I’m the opposite. I need to learn to say yes. I’m so busy working with my writing and on my author career that I never say yes to social invitations or distractions. I need to work on my work/life balance, and as of next year, I intend to focus on this more. I will be including work/life balance into my business plan to make sure I don’t overload myself like I have over the past few years. 

What marketing tactics should authors avoid?

As I mentioned previously, the $1.99 price point is a dead zone. Selling books at 99c – remember you are worth more.Free eBooks, unless you have a big deal with one of the large promotional companies and the book is the first in a series of books, so you can gain the on-sales from the free promotional book.

You should never release a book without a marking plan. Think about how you can make your book visible in the world of social media, and in any other way you can think of that will interest readers.  Think about the tactics you can make it known you have released a book.

What new realizations and/or approaches have helped you achieve your goals? 

I think when I decided to stick to writing to the market, I found my niche (MC Romance). I’m lucky that the genre I adore writing is also very popular at the moment, so when I write to the market, I find my sales and marketing methods tend to boost a lot higher than my other books.

When you feel overwhelmed or have lost your focus temporarily, what do you do? 

I tend to read. If I am having trouble thinking or with motivation, I go back to basics. Learn from my peers. See what they’re doing. What their stories are about. See how their writing flows. Try to pull inspiration from them. Then generally, that will pull my love back and get me back in the mood as it were.

Any other tips?

This industry isn’t easy.

Equally so, it isn’t for everyone.

You need to have a tough skin to be an author. Reviewers are tough. Editors are critical. But even worse are your own demons that continuously tell you you’re not good enough. But, if you can pull yourself through all that, there’s this bright light. A spark. That glimmer of brilliance that is your beacon of creativity, demanding her voice. If you can let her free and let her develop into a beautiful, dark, or angst-filled story, whatever it may be–then you’re on the right path. And let me tell you that path is a wondrous and joyful journey. If you can get to those two words- The End - that is the most powerful feeling in the world, and I wouldn’t give it up for anything. 

________

Enjoyed this Q&A? Want to discuss in more depth? Join Community Writers. You'll get access to 100+ exclusive writing tips. Q&As with successful authors, an exclusive ebook on building an audience and much more. Sign-up for free as a community writer here

source https://www.thecommunitywriter.com/blog/k-e-osborn

[waitingforsols]

Will Solace: Hidden Powers

This is not supposed to be at any one point or time in the timeline of Percy Jackson, so I don’t know where it would fit between all the wars. I’m also assuming there are no more than 50 campers… ANYWAY! HERE YOU GO! Also Aviana is just a filler character I made up, she has no real purpose other than to fill the gap. Dedicated to @the-jackson-files for motivating me to make this an actual story! This is basically a part one btw. ALSO POSTED ON MY BLOG OF WILL SOLACE STUFF SO NO COPYRIGHT HERE!

SUMMARY: During a battle, Will unlocks powers he didn’t even know he had. 
They came out of nowhere. No one knew how they had gotten in the borders of camp near Zeus’ fist and the Pegasus Stables. One minute everything was calm, and the sound of laughter resonated from all over camp where demigods were simply enjoying their lives, as twisted as they were. All that stopped once the attacked. There were dozens of hell-hounds everywhere, attacking everything moving, and only so many campers to fend them off.Despite their efforts, many of the campers were injured one way or another; some were able to walk it off while others were immobilized. Percy and Annabeth were back-to-back fighting them off with their sword and dagger, gold dust on and surrounding them. Both quest-veterans were clearly tiring with each swipe, but they kept going. Nico was slashing hell-hound after hell-hound, though he felt a twinge of guilt seeing as he personally knew a couple of hell-hounds, despite being unlike these. Most of the able-bodied campers were defending their knocked out and/or injured fellow campers; which cabin you were in aside. A few of the Apollo campers, the medics, were running around and dragging off injured campers to safety with the help of a few other Apollo and even some Ares campers. Many just grab their fallen friend, bring them to the medics, and run back into the fight. Will Solace was one of the few Medics standing, which forced him to work even harder and faster.

He silently cursed his father for not giving him any athletic ability what-so-ever, not even when it comes to archery. He sprinted across the battlefield, heaving a camper onto his shoulders or scooping one into his arms and running back to the area designated for the makeshift medical zone in the Stables. Just because he didn’t have his father’s athletic build doesn’t mean he isn’t fast or strong; Will can thank vigorous camp training for that. All the pegasi had been let out of their confinement and some were currently circling above camp while others fled to the strawberry fields on the other side of the stables; this had let the campers safely hide the injured, for the time-being. In the stables laid about a dozen campers, a good chunk of their forces, immobilized on the fairly clean hay and straw in the stalls. Will silently thanked whoever had the stable chores for getting them done earlier that day, otherwise this would have been disgusting. There was about 2 campers per stall, and two Apollo campers rushing around healing whoever they can. Will enters and lays young boy on the straw next to another young boy. He then sprints back to the battlefield, adrenaline continuously circling through his veins. He skids to a stop, almost tumbling head over heels when he hears a scream. He knows that scream. Will quickly spins around, eyes searching the demigods, scanning for the source of the scream. There it is again. Will spins around and sprints towards the sound, and there she was.

“Aviana,” Will whispered under his breath, chest heaving. The youngest daughter of Apollo, no more than 10, with normally bright blonde hair pulled back into two braids and stunning green eyes, laid on the ground with her eyes squeezed shut and red mixed in her now frazzled. Her orange camp t-shirt had a huge gash through it and her A hell-hound more than ten times her size was only a few feet away and was slowly creeping its way over her. Will quickly looked around and saw a sword off to the side; he picked it up, though it was heavy in his arms as he held it with two hands. He prayed to the gods that this would work, but he doubted himself. With a loud battle cry Will ran as fast as he could towards the tank-sized beast and swung the sword down on its side. Though the beast was practically unaffected, it took its focus off of his youngest sibling and turned on him instead. Will mentally sweared as he faced the hell-hound. It lifted one of its massive paws and swung at Will, sending him flying near Aviana. He got up painfully onto his hands and knees, a hand clutching his side. Once he took his hand away, it was coated in a thick red substance that was very much common to Will. He wiped it on his shirt and stood up shakily, wincing in pain. He glanced towards the sword that was off to the side, and back at the hell-hound, who was making its way over to him quickly. Something tugged inside Will’s chest, which turned to the feeling of something pounding on a wall in his chest as if it wanted out. He gasped in pain, that got more and more intense in a matter of milliseconds. Will let out a cry as his hands flew to his chest. What he didn’t notice was the bright glow that replaced his clear blue eyes; nor did he notice that the glow was spreading out from his chest to surround his body. Then suddenly he he felt as if the dam that had been had broken. Shattered into a million pieces, you could say. He let out a blood-curling scream, one that resonated throughout the battlefield; its occupants trying to ignore the screams as a sinking feeling grew in their stomachs. All of the campers had a somewhat grim look on their face; they knew what those kind of screams normally meant. But then there was a large bang and a bright light almost as bright as the sun that followed; blinding all the campers. They turned their heads away from the light as they shielded their eyes with their arms, but it was over almost as soon as it started. Once they darted back towards their opposing enemy, they noticed it was gone. They all were. Percy glanced at Annabeth, who turned back to face him; both with confused faces. There was not a trace of them anywhere, only the dust remained. Both veterans turned to look around, and noticed the injured campers, were not injured anymore. Connor, who had taken a hit for Travis as was lying on the ground, had sat up and was being helped up by his brother who instantly pulled him into a hug. Clarisse was helping up some of her siblings as well. Friends helping friends, and sibling helping siblings. Though, no one was injured, not even a scratch was found. “Annabeth,“ Percy whispered reaching for her face, which turned back grey eyes meeting sea green. “Your face,” he muttered again in disbelief. What once was a large slash across her face was no more, nor was any other injury. 
 "What about it?” She questioned. Percy shook his head and let his hand drop to his side. "That’s just it,” he looked towards the other campers and gestured in a sweeping motion. 
 "Everyone is healed. Not a single sc–” Percy didn’t get to finish his sentence due to a terrified scream coming from off to the edge of the battlefield. Percy looked at Annabeth, who nodded, and readied her dagger as Percy readied his sword. The duo took off towards the scream, other campers not far behind, all with what weapons they had, drawn and ready. The cries of help got louder as they approached.

"Help! Please!” A young girl sobbed. Percy recognized the blonde haired girl as Aviana, the daughter of Apollo. Percy mainly saw her at the campfires where she sang with her cabin, albeit Will; though he sometimes played his ukulele or guitar while she sang. Both Percy and Annabeth stopped short once she was in plain sight. She was on her knees sobbing with blood thickly coating her arms up to her elbows and splattered all over her clothes.

"What’s wrong sweetie?” Annabeth crouched in front of the girl. “Are you hurt?”

"Aviana!” Annabeth turned to see Kayla, another older daughter of Apollo running towards them. The little girl turned and ran into her older sister’s arms sobbing, causing Kayla’s clothes to be smeared with blood and tears. She had previously checked everyone for injuries and everyone seemed better than okay, and everyone looked as if they were ready for a second round.

"Avi, what’s wrong?” She asked her sister softly. Aviana let go and started sobbing harder as she grabbed Kayla’s hand and started pulling her over into taller grass quickly. She then pointed at a matted down area of grass that was concealed from their position. Kayla ushered Aviana to Annabeth while she turned to check out what was causing the girl’s cries. Then Kayla screamed in horror and surprise causing everyone to jump.

"Austin! I need help” She yelled out her siblings name with panic lacing her voice, causing Austin to run over quickly, having had a medical backpack strapped to his back. Then the other demigods as well as Chiron who had gathered behind Percy and Annabeth started murmuring. Urgent, yet soft words, could be heard from the two children of Apollo.

"Apollo Cabin! Urgent medical Evac to Infirmary stat!” Austin ordered as the others pushed through the crowd quickly. Everyone’s eyes widened at those words. Who could be injured? Everyone else was fine! Everyone tried to get a good look at who was injured while the Apollo Cabin minus Aviana aided in evacuating the camper with Nico, for some odd reason, and Chiron not far behind having been informed of the situation by Kayla as they quickly walked towards the infirmary. Suddenly, Aviana, who had stayed pretty quiet, burst back into tears.

"Will!” She sobbed as she tried pulling on Annabeth’s hand, clearly wanting to follow her siblings.

"That’s right honey,” She soothed gently trying to keep her away from the trauma. “Will can heal them right up,” though that made the girl sob harder.

"NO!” She cried out. “WILL!” She pulled harder pointing towards the group in the distance. Suddenly, the other campers caught on, as did Annabeth. Everyone suddenly got nervous, if that was Will’s blood on Aviana’s shirt, then they were in trouble. Will’s the best healer they had, but he’s not able to heal himself. “He saved me! He used special powers to save me!” She cried softly collapsing into Annabeth’s arms.

"What powers Aviana?” Annabeth asked softly as she rocked the young girl.

"I-I got h-hurt,” she stuttered out, not crying as much but more dry-sobbing. “A-and the b-big dog was ‘bout to k-kill me! B-but Will, ‘e-‘e stopped it. Then ‘e g-got h-hurt too! B-but then h'e started g-glowin’ really p-pretty like daddy.” She spoke, clearly tired, but in a bit of a mesmerized state. “B-but then 'e started s-screaming 'n hurting! I-I though he w-was going to d-die too! But then it was bright 'n he healed me 'n killed the bad dog!” She stopped stuttering, but was still teary eyed. Every camper was listening to the little girl tell the story, unsure whether or not to believe her. “Is Will goin’ to go by Michael and Lee? He told me stories 'bout them sayin’ the’re the best brothers ever and how 'e wished I coulda’ met them, and that one day he’ll go with 'em. I don’ wan’ Will to die!” She started crying softly again. Many campers knew Michael Yew and Lee Fletcher, but they never realized how hard Will took their deaths.

"So it was Will,” Percy muttered under his breath.

"What was that seaweed brain?” Annabeth asked him.

"Will was the one who killed all the hell-hounds, and apparently healed everyone too…” Percy trailed off.

"Huh,” Travis stated in shock.

“I guess-” Connor started in shock as well.

"He did!” Travis finished.

"But now what?” Clarisse, who was in the front near the twins asked, in just as much shock as the Stolls.

[lostsolsdestinyblog]

In response to sc_Slayerage

November 30, 2017

This is a response to sc_slayerage, who asked me to make my own video if I disagreed with his, but I'm going to respond here instead. So sc, here are my thoughts (yours in quotes)

Suck ass weapons include ARs, Hand Cannons, Scouts, Pulse Rifles, Submachine Guns [and Fighting Lion]

Vigilance Wing, Sunshot, Coldheart, MIDA, Sweet Business, Graviton Lance, Nameless Midnight, Call to Serve, Antiope D, Last Hope, True Prophecy, Better Devils, Origin Story, Cuboid ARu, Martyr's Make, Uriel's Gift, Ghost Primus, Armillary Psu, Scathelocke, Pleiades Corrector, Manannan SR4, Nergal PR4, Risk Runner.

All weapons I have mostly on my characters (and a few in my vault). I have used most of them extensively and regularly switch between many because I enjoy them all.

Through 3 years of D1, in PvE I basically used Cryptic Dragon, MIDA, B-Line Trauma, Plug One, LDR 5001, Coiled Hiss, NA3D1 Salvation State, Thesan FR4, Hung Jury, Grasp of Malok, Last Extremity, Funky Steel Medulla, Chaos Dogma and Y3 Vision of Confluence.

That's it.

Throw in heavy and you can expand it to Truth, Gjally, Thunderlord, Baron's Ambition, All 3 exotic swords and the Spartan Laser (on Atheon)

3 years. Not a lot of diversity.

Based on nomenclature, you can't have 2 primary weapons. You can't use 2 things primarily.

They were called primary weapons because they were the weapons we used the most. As beloved as any special or heavy weapon was in D1, they accounted for a relatively small percentage of actual use throughout PvE encounters.

By your definition, you are correct. We can't use 2 things primarily, hence them not being called Primary weapons any longer. That said, the new system allows us to have more variety in use of the weapon classes we used by far the most in D1, but were limited to only using one of.

Special weapons in D1 were able to compete with heavy weapons, but with less versatile efficacy. Meanwhile D1 heavy weapons were incredibly versatile... but the point to be made is that the heavy weapon slot offered the opportunity to use the weapon that was the best weapon in your loadout, clearly outperforming both your primary and special in almost every case.

What you're not taking into account is that in both D1 and D2, the only real need for the special/heavy then and power now is yellow bars, shielded enemies, bosses and picking off enemies at a distance. But then (as now) the heavy weapon was clearly superior for doing that and in most cases outside of the raids and (at least year one) D1's famous "hide and snipe'' strikes, there really wasn't a situation where you needed both special and heavy at once. I'm not saying everyone played like I did, but once I got Boltcaster there was really no need to ever use a special weapon unless it was the best dps for a boss.

AND of all the special weapons in D1, only sniper rifles were really relevant in PvE anyway. Not a lot of people were running Fusions and Shotguns in endgame PvE and especially not high level endgame.

Special weapons began to go downhill when they needed to be brought down to the level of [sidearms]

Actually it had absolutely nothing to do with the introduction of sidearms.. Shotguns began to go downhill with the dominance of slide+shotgun in the crucible and then with Felwinters + range finder or shot package. Shotguns were nerfed how many times in D1? Fusions were first nerfed in 1.1.1 long before sidearms existed. Snipers were nerfed because they were too dominant in PvP thanks to other nerfs.

The simple truth of the matter is that in all reality special weapons were doomed the moment primary weapons began their backwards power progression. Eventually it led to anything capable of a OHK being the best option for any encounter. We could go for days about all the intricacies of the decline including how the death of damage over time played into everything, but that's a long story.

Also ammo regenerating weapons and specials equippable as primaries were a mechanic that bit Bungie in the ass and broke balance in ways they could never correct.

The single biggest problem of the new system is that it causes utter devastation to gameplay variety.

I understand this to be a real issue for a lot of players, but you have to be able to acknowledge that it has significantly broadened gameplay variety for others. Just looking at the weapons I listed D1 and D2, there are no hand cannons listed for D1. I probably had less than 200 kills TOTAL with them over 3 years. And in any era, once I found my primary of choice, I was locked in and if I was using a Scout, there wasn't much using anything else. Chaos Dogma was my weapon be it strikes, patrol, raids or events like Archon Forge.

For me D2 has been a revelation. I have and do use all manner of combinations regularly (though Pulse rifles besides VW and high impact scouts could use some love) and I enjoy all of them. In D1 I never would have gotten to experience the weapons I do now.

Rockets are currently the best weapon for virtually any situation

Gjallerhorn pre-nerf (hence the nerf)

In D1, Bungie made the decision to put snipers and shotguns in a different class than rockets because they are more specialized. If snipers and rockets are both consistent options, you have to put them in separate slots because if you don't, the weapon with the most obvious disadvantages will wind up being virtually useless.

I understand your frustration in some situation like boss encounters in D2 (though primarily in strikes because Calus can be one-phased pretty easily). I would counter your point by saying that those situations where snipers and shotguns were not only both consistent options, but both necessary were extremely rare. I would also say that the issue isn't so much in both weapons being in the power slot now as it is (like you said) that rockets and swords are just the better options with the current weapons, but that could easily be fixed by giving shotguns and snipers advantages that rockets don't have. I would start by significantly upping the ammo reserves for snipers, shotguns and fusion rifles. They may not do as much damage as rockets, but giving them the ability to be used longer in-between ammo drops would make them a genuinely desirable option in MANY aspects of D2 PvE.

It also doesn't have to just be more ammo and the ability to kill more yellow bars before running out (or more potential damage long term vs a rockets burst damage) either. Bungie have a lot of brilliant people working for them and I know they can come up with other ways to make other power weapons stand out and we'll still have rockets for the situations that call for them (Calus).

The new system destroys gameplay variety... all it takes is a few fights against bosses where you're out of your limited power ammo to see how lame it is to tickle a boss with an AR

Am I the only one that remembers spending more time sitting waiting for ammo synths to pop than actually fighting enemies in D1 endgame content? Did year one Nightfalls, Crota's End, etc not happen?

All joking about the painful ammo-less past aside, in those situations where we were stuck with a choice of either Special or heavy (just like now) because we could only pop synths for one or the other; it led to deciding if you needed more prolonged attacks (clearing more enemies) or hitting as hard as we could (bosses). So in reality we had the exact same choice much of the time in D1, but the difference was that our snipers, shotguns and fusions were better options because of their ability to take out significantly more ads because their reserve ammo was double what it is now. Hence, give them more ammo.

The new weapon system ruins the excitement of loot. [I'm] not interested in 2/3 of [my] weapons being suck ass. The current weapon system exists to the exclusion of truly powerful weapons.

We haven't scratched the surface of what weapons can and will be in D2 so I'm not sure how you can make that assertion, but more on that in a bit.

Icebreaker would destroy the ammo economy by being the only power weapon with infinite ammo.

It helped destroy special weapons as a class as the ammo economy in D1 was nerfed repeatedly to try to balance a game in which we had too many ways to OHK things in PvP (read: Trials) or Bungie felt they were cheesing endgame bosses and so the entire game suffered. More on PvP later.

If you made The Last Word [in D2], it would dominate the suck ass weapon slot by being too not suck ass.

Isn't this what we want??? A weapon to dominate a weapon slot, but then make more of them and make them for kinetic, energy and power and make us have to really choose where we want that God-weapon advantage?

Why can't this exist in D2? Because if the answer is just balance as you’re stating, then switching back to Primary/Special/Heavy would change nothing. TLW would still dominate the primary slot if it was the only good option, but the same balancing excuse would keep it from existing if we went back to the old setup.

The new weapon system makes it hard for great gear to exist, which makes the looting aspect that much less exciting. Every time someone wants the loot system fixed, part of me is very much aware it's a foundation problem. They couldn't just give us more ammo and guns. We need loot that's worth wanting.

The new weapon system doesn't make it hard for great gear to exist at all and they very well could just give us more weapons and armor. If we had HUNDREDS of weapons to grind for all with unique different static perks and DOZENS of armor sets, we as a community wouldn't be having many of the endgame conversations we are now and you and I probably wouldn't be having this discussion because we'd be online grinding new gear.

The foundation problem was D1. It was broken to the point where they literally could not balance the game and we had a world not only of constant rotating metas as each change broke something else in the ecosystem, but so broken to where the only fix in many situations was taking away ammo completely. Is that the game we wanted to continue with for 3 more years or however long D2 runs for? I really don’t think so.

Not only is the loot in D2 less exciting to get as a result of this change, but you can also see that the way they have systematically forced themselves into a position where it’s much more difficult to create strong loot. It would create huge obvious balance problems if they did make strong loot that would result in us negating huge parts of the weapon pool.

Let’s start by taking a realistic look at loot in D1. Bungie painted itself into a corner with vanilla Destiny. It gave us so many incredible weapons that there was literally no way for them to improve.

How do they give us a better heavy than Gjally? They couldn’t.

Vex? VoG weapons in general? Thunderlord?

There was no ceiling and they realized it early and so outside of exotics, our weapons didn’t progress into The Dark Below. Were those weapons more powerful? Nope. In fact over the course of 3 years, almost every single weapon we got was just a reskinned version of something that existed in vanilla (but probably nerfed).

Cryptic Dragon and its full-auto raid counterpart Vision of Confluence was NA3D1, Hygiea Noblesse, Hung Jury… and eventually full circle back to Cryptic Dragon and Vision again in year 3.

Praedyth’s Timepiece became Coiled Hiss, Grasp of Malok and Clever Dragon. There was a year 3 FWC version but does anyone really remember it?

You can do that for virtually any weapon in the game in every weapon class. There were a few outliers like Touch of Malice (got nerfed), Spindle (got nerfed), Chaos Dogma and Outbreak Prime that added unique special abilities, and the glorious and beautiful exotic swords, but outside of those where did we get strong loot? We didn’t and even when we did pick up a new weapon, odds are we were just trying to find the new version of the one that got taken from us.

So not only was D1 broken to where they couldn’t give us better, stronger loot because it would create huge obvious balance problems if they did. The entire weapon system in D1 was set up to where it resulted in us negating huge parts of the weapon pool as we never really got anything better and basically chased God rolls for the actual few we wanted new versions of.

The fix is to go back to D1

D2 is the fix to everything that was wrong in D1. Maybe a lot of the changes aren’t what some players wanted or expected, but D1 was broken and Bungie had a painful choice to make (that was going to get crushed either way): Either keep going with the game they had, where every change broke a different aspect, where we’d never be able to get more powerful, where each expansion would see our cooldowns reset and have to grind them back where they were at the end of the previous… or they could bite the bullet and reset the game.

I can’t imagine they wanted to start over and I think they understood that it was going to take away a lot of what they wanted to do with the franchise as they had to rebuild systems instead of making new cool stuff with a limited time frame.

I appreciate your point of view and I don’t want to dismiss players like yourself who miss the old loadouts. If I could have a choice between now and HoW, I’d probably take HoW from an overall game experience, but we both know why we can’t go back there. The thing that has hurt Destiny the most is a word that got drowned out in your delivery and that is balance. D1 could not be balanced and some of us argued for 3 years that it wasn’t meant to be, that is was okay to be outgunned because we had a rock/paper/scissors system of checks and balances between all our weapons and abilities. That the game wasn’t played on spreadsheets or in a vacuum and Thorn was a challenge to overcome and conquer. That 1:1 balance and equal kill times would lead to everyone just using whatever weapon had the most ease of use (Auto Rifles), but it isn’t what the community wanted.

So the question to me is, how does Bungie make what we have better, because we aren’t going back to D1. I have LOTS of ideas that I’ve posted on PvP and PvE and so have millions of others. Bungie put up their state of the game post today outlining their initial plans that include many of those suggestions and I’ll keep giving feedback and suggestions on what can still be improved.

So I would ask you, instead of just saying scrap the new system and go back to D1, what would be ways in which bungie could make the system we have now better?

D2 can still be so much more, but what it has that D1 didn’t is a true solid foundation, a firm vision of what they want the game to be and an actual ceiling to reach for that hopefully will see real power progression as we go and no more of the addition-by-subtraction reverse power creep of D1. I want D2 to be great and I want D3 to build off of that and not be another reset/side step. Hopefully we all get there together as a developer and community. Thank you for your time.

[oliverphisher]

K E Osborn

Australian author K E Osborn was born and raised in Adelaide, South Australia. With a background in graphic design and a flair for all things creative, she felt compelled to write the story brewing in her mind. 

Writing gives her life purpose. It makes her feel, laugh, cry, and get completely enveloped with the characters and their story lines. She feels completely at home when writing and wouldn’t consider doing anything else. She wrote Get Rocked? (2015).

What are one to three books that have greatly influenced your life? 

The Secret Garden – Frances Hodgson Burnett

When I think of books from my childhood, this is the one that I always remember. It constantly sat beside me on my bedside table, and when it came out as a movie, I was so excited to see it. I loved it that much.

Fifty Shades of Grey – EL James

This series had such a significant impact on not only my career, but I believe the entire romance industry as it is now. Without this series paving the way for romance to be acceptable, I’m not sure I would have gotten into writing. Reading FSOG gave me the courage to write the stories brewing in my mind. I know I, and a lot of other authors out there, have a lot to thank EL James for.

Thoughtless – SC Stephens

This series is what dawned the rock genre phase I went through. After reading Thoughtless and loving the emotions it pulled from me, plus my love of music, I wanted to emulate that in my own stories. Now, I have four different rocker series published,and it all grew from reading Thoughtless. 

What purchase of $100 or less has most positively impacted your life in the last six months (or in recent memory)?      

An ergonomic keyboard and mouse. Honestly, you need the best of everything when you sit at a desk for eight hours a day.

How has a failure, or apparent failure, set you up for later success? 

It has taught me to be resilient. When you think things aren’t going your way, or that nothing is ever going to get better, things will always have a way of working themselves out in the end. There will always be a fix to a problem. Or if there isn’t, worrying over it isn’t going to resolve it either. If it can’t be fixed, and it isn’t life or death, then you can’t continue to stress over it. If it’s not going to cause you financial strain, cause you medical issues or your imminent death–let it go. When you let things go, you can work harder, and you become more efficient. When you can do that, things naturally fall into place, and you become more successful.

Are there any quotes you think of often or live your life by?

‘Just keep swimming’from Finding Nemo- is one I live by every day.

This author stuff is damn hard work. You need to push yourself every day to keep relevant, to keep up with the market, to just keep writing. So my motto has been for quite some time, to ‘Just keep swimming.’ Keep up the good fight and never give up, no matter how hard it gets, because in the end, I love what I do, and for every bad day there’s a dozen more that are great.

What is one of the best investment in a writing resource you’ve ever made? 

The Emotion Thesaurus by Angela Ackerman & Becca Puglisi

What is an unusual habit or an absurd thing that you love? 

My unusual habit is when I sit down to write first thing in the morning, I have to have a cup of tea. I feel like if I don’t have one, my routine isn’t in order, and I get up in the end and make one anyway. It’s a habit now, and something that’s kind of ritualistic for me. If I don’t have my cup of tea, I can’t start for the day.

Weird, I know.

In the last five years, what new belief, behaviour, or habit has most improved your life? 

Self-editing is a must before sending it to anyone. Never send a draft to anyone, unless you are happy with what it contains.

Also, trying to eat healthily and exercise (though this doesn’t always happen in a busy author’s day, unfortunately).

What advice would you give to a smart, driven aspiring author? What advice should they ignore? 

ALWAYS send your manuscript to a reliable editor. Don’t ever think you’re good enough to not have your book edited and proofread. No one is ever that good. They are there not only to find your grammar and spelling mistakes but to check a variety of things we can miss (like timeline issues, inconsistencies, etc.) Once you have found a good editor, never let them go.

Make sure you have an amazing cover artist working with you on your cover. After all, the cover is the first thing a reader will see. If your cover is subpar, it represents the writing inside. Think about that. Your branding is everything. You might be the next ‘big thing,’ but if your cover is average, readers will judge your writing based on that fact alone. Image is everything in this industry – so branding should be at the forefront of your mind. Readers need to be able to spot you in a sea of covers, so always having the same branding can help them find you more easily.

If you haven’t invested some money in your book with a great cover, compelling blurb, and sharp editing, then, unfortunately, you will get what you paid for in return.  You are a small business, and you will need to spend money to make money.

Ignore people telling you to take out loans to advertise on social media. Spend what you can afford. Obviously, the more you can spend, the better the return will be, but don’t fall into traps where you need to take out repayments to finance your advertising. That’s dangerous territory. Do what you can. If you can add a little extra into your marketing budget, I recommend it, but don’t blow the bank in a way you can’t manage.

What are bad recommendations you hear in your profession often? 

Selling books at $1.99, this is the dead zone of marketing. Readers don’t seem to buy books at this price. Maybe it’s because they don’t see value in a book at $1.99. Always remember, you are worth the price readers will pay for your books.  Never have a book at 99c unless it’s for promotional reasons.

Beware of stepping away from your brand and genre, always keep it in mind.  Even if it means having a pen name for a genre that is too far away from what you are known for.

In the last five years, what have you become better at saying no to (distractions, invitations, etc.)? 

For me, I’m the opposite. I need to learn to say yes. I’m so busy working with my writing and on my author career that I never say yes to social invitations or distractions. I need to work on my work/life balance, and as of next year, I intend to focus on this more. I will be including work/life balance into my business plan to make sure I don’t overload myself like I have over the past few years. 

What marketing tactics should authors avoid?

As I mentioned previously, the $1.99 price point is a dead zone. Selling books at 99c – remember you are worth more.Free eBooks, unless you have a big deal with one of the large promotional companies and the book is the first in a series of books, so you can gain the on-sales from the free promotional book.

You should never release a book without a marking plan. Think about how you can make your book visible in the world of social media, and in any other way you can think of that will interest readers.  Think about the tactics you can make it known you have released a book.

What new realizations and/or approaches have helped you achieve your goals? 

I think when I decided to stick to writing to the market, I found my niche (MC Romance). I’m lucky that the genre I adore writing is also very popular at the moment, so when I write to the market, I find my sales and marketing methods tend to boost a lot higher than my other books.

When you feel overwhelmed or have lost your focus temporarily, what do you do? 

I tend to read. If I am having trouble thinking or with motivation, I go back to basics. Learn from my peers. See what they’re doing. What their stories are about. See how their writing flows. Try to pull inspiration from them. Then generally, that will pull my love back and get me back in the mood as it were.

Any other tips?

This industry isn’t easy.

Equally so, it isn’t for everyone.

You need to have a tough skin to be an author. Reviewers are tough. Editors are critical. But even worse are your own demons that continuously tell you you’re not good enough. But, if you can pull yourself through all that, there’s this bright light. A spark. That glimmer of brilliance that is your beacon of creativity, demanding her voice. If you can let her free and let her develop into a beautiful, dark, or angst-filled story, whatever it may be–then you’re on the right path. And let me tell you that path is a wondrous and joyful journey. If you can get to those two words- The End - that is the most powerful feeling in the world, and I wouldn’t give it up for anything. 

________

Enjoyed this Q&A? Want to discuss in more depth? Join Community Writers. You'll get access to 100+ exclusive writing tips. Q&As with successful authors, an exclusive ebook on building an audience and much more. Sign-up for free as a community writer here