#chunking my job at my hobby to see what sticks

[outermaybanks]

not really a kook - based on this request (jj meets a 'kook' who makes him reevaluate his rule) a/n: im sorry this took so long life got a bit hectic, but i loved this request and i hope you like what i wrote!!! i dont think i need cw for anything but if i missed something please let me know

“y/n, table eight needs fries,” Kie said quickly as she moved passed you. “Heard,” you quickly reply. Today was your first official day working for the Wreck, but Kie had been training you for weeks leading up to it. You were apprehensive, when she first asked you to get a summer job at the Wreck, not because you couldn’t handle a little hard work, but because you knew it was mostly inhabited by tourons and kooks, and while you technically fell into the category of the latter, you hated most kooks.

Except Kie. She was like, the only person on this island who got you. You didn’t like entitled people, you had grown up poor for a good chunk of your childhood, but your grandpa bought a lot of stocks decades ago, and never could figure out when was the better time to sell, so he never did, and when he died 6 years ago, your mother inherited everything. But just because now you lived in a big house, you could still remember how it felt when kids teased you for having to thrift your clothes. 

Your parents, on the other hand, let the money change them practically overnight, along with your younger sister and your older brother. In fact, you were currently ‘cut off’ because your parents didn’t like how you spent the money. You liked to buy clothes, and makeup, and go out to eat, of course, but you also had a habit of donating money behind your parents back, or walk around the cut and give handfuls of cash to people that looked like they needed it; there was no shortage of that over on the cut. 

You had made exactly two friends when you moved to Kildare island; Kie and Sarah Cameron, and when Sarah Cameron decided popularity was more important to her, it was just you and Kie, which you didn’t mind. She had other friends, but you had a lot of hobbies that took up your time, so you never really minded that you hadn’t met them. So when your best friend asked you to help her out by working at her family restaurant, you couldn’t say no. Besides, it would feel good to earn your own money. 

Mr. Carrera handed you the fries for table eight, and you quickly carried them over with a smile on your face. Kie said that part was important. 

“Hey, I just got a text from some of my friends, they’re gonna swing by. You wanna hang with us?” Kie asked after the lunch boom ended and there was a lull in the restaurant. “Uh, which friends?” Kie gave you a teasing look, “How many friends do I have besides you?” “Maybe you made more, now that you go to the other school, how could I possibly keep up?” you tease back, taking a drink from you water bottle. Kie rolled her eyes playfully. “The pogues, John B, Pope, JJ-” “Yeah, yeah, I remember… um… do they know you’re inviting me?”

Before Kie could open her mouth to reply, “Whaddup!” a loud voice called through the restaurant, making Kie turn. You looked past her to see three guys walk in. “What are you guys doing here already? You just texted me.” Kie said, putting her hand on her hip. “Uhhh,” the tall brunette one said, pulling out his phone, “well, we said we were coming 30 minutes ago, and this place is only 20 minutes away.” Kie checked her phone then groaned at being proven wrong. “Well, I’m still scheduled for another 30 minutes, so…” “That’s cool, we’ll just hang,” the blonde one said. 

Kie sighed, throwing her towel over her shoulder. “Well, guys, this is my friend y/n, y/n, this is Pope, JJ, and John B,” Kie introduced, pointing to each guy respectively. “Guys, this is, y/n.” “Cool, nice to meet you,” Pope was the first to acknowledge you, sticking his hand out formally. You smiled as you shook it. “You guys too, I’ve heard lots about you.” “You’re the one who moved here, right?” John B asked. “Uh, yeah, about 6 years ago.” “Haven’t seen you around before,” JJ said, almost accusatory. “Uh… sorry?” you tried. “Guys! Stop giving her the third degree. I swear, this is why I never bring new people around you guys,” Kie scolded. 

You gave an awkward smile and a small wave before quickly going behind the counter to wipe it down. JJ couldn’t help but watch you, his mind swirling around with thoughts. Why hadn’t Kie brought you around before? Was she hiding them from you? Was she hiding you from them? Why hadn’t he seen you in school or around the cut? Were you from her Kook days? Why was Kie still friends with someone from her Kook days? Why would a Kook willingly work for minimum wage at the Wreck? He laid his arms down on the counter, leaning forward as he blocked the next part of the counter, which meant when you reached where he was, you had no choice but to look up at him.

“So… y/n. Haven’t seen you here before… when did you start?” JJ asked, making you furrow your brows, but then you chuckled. Kie had warned you her boys were a bit much, and you found it cute that JJ was living up to it so fast. “I started today. Kie was nice enough to offer me a summer job,” you explained, carefully picking his wrist up to move it, he quickly crossed his arms, letting you continue cleaning. His eyes stayed on you even as you moved past him. John B smacked his arm, making JJ turn to see his friends giving him knowing looks. JJ wet his lips before turning back to look at you. Fuck it, he thought. Kie hated Kooks, she wouldn’t willingly be good friends with one. “Hey, did Kie invite you to kick it? Because you totally should,” JJ rambled, making you smile to yourself. “Uh, she did actually, right before you guys walked in.” “And now they know, so you can come,” Kie spoke up, with a cocky smile. 

“Okay, I’m down. What’s the plan?”

When you and Kie got off work, John B drove you all back to his place, the Chateau, with the promise of grilling, and taking the boat out on the water. John B was more than happy to teach you how to grill, and JJ took the opportunity to interrogate Kie.

“So, what’s the deal with y/n?” JJ asked bluntly, taking Kie by surprise. She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. “Why do you wanna know?” “Well… just seems a little odd that we’ve never met your only other friend. How did you meet her anyway?” Kie rolled her eyes. She knew JJ hated Kooks, but she also knew that like herself, y/n was not really a Kook, and she didn’t want JJ to judge her before he got to know her. “Soccer. I did it for like one summer, and it just so happened to be the year she moved here.” “Well, why didn’t you ever bring her around?” “Because I knew you guys were gonna get weird and scare her off,” Kie teased, pushing JJ back by his forehead as she walked past him, but JJ wasn’t giving up that easily.

“Okay, okay… she got a boyfriend?” JJ asked, making Kie stop in her tracks. “Seriously?” Kie asked in an annoyed tone as she turned to face him. “What? I’m just trying to get to know your friend, Kie,” JJ lied, making Kie roll her eyes. “She doesn’t have a boyfriend. Anything else you want to know, you gotta ask her,” Kie said, throwing her arms up in surrender. 

Truthfully, she was playing dumb. She knew exactly what she was doing. She always thought you and JJ would be good for each other, and if she could just get JJ to not see you as a Kook, maybe that’s exactly what would happen. 

“I’m gonna grab a beer, you want one, y/n?” JJ offered, taking you by surprise. “Uh, sure, thank you, JJ,” you answered with a smile.

JJ walked over, opening your beer before handing it to you, you gave him another smile as you took it, raising it slightly to say thank you. JJ took the opportunity to do cheers, so you both took a drink, eyes locked on each other the whole time.

Oh, he was good, you thought. He didn’t have to say a word, and you were already drawn to him. 

After eating, you five loaded onto John B fishing boat, you and Kie sitting on the front of it as John B drove. The sun was just starting to go down as you got into the middle of the water, the view was absolutely perfect. “I think this is the prettiest thing I've ever seen,” you said softly, mostly to yourself.

JJ couldn’t agree more as he watched you sitting the golden glow of the sunset. He decided to be bold, and reached out to move a piece of hair behind your ear. When you turned to him with a teasing smile, his heart skipped a beat. “That’s like the cheesiest move in the book,” you taunt. “Alrigh’ alrigh’, that’s fair,” JJ laughs. “So did I completely blow it?” Your smile grew, so you turned your head away. “I didn’t say that.”

The rest of the night was filled with laughing, smoking, and stolen touches wherever possible. When Kie announced she was taking you home, you wanted to strangle her, but you didn’t want to seem too eager, so you agreed.

“You and JJ seemed friendly,” Kie said with a knowing smile as she drove her mom’s jeep towards her house for a sleepover.

“Ugh, was I total dork? I feel like I was a total dork,” you whine, letting your head fall back against the headrest. “No, no, he totally likes you… but there’s something I have to tell you.” “What?” In an instant you nervous, as if JJ was gonna pop out of the back seat. “Listen… a couple years back, JJ went on a date with a Kook, Jules, only… it wasn’t a date, it was a trap. She just wanted to humiliate him. JJ… hates Kooks. Like, more than anyone else I know. If he finds out your parents are rich, he…” Kie trailed off, but you could figure out what she was getting at. “Your parents are rich and you guys are like best friends,” you pointed out. “I was grandfathered in, I met the Pogues in 6th grade, pre-Jules embarrassment.” “Great. I finally meet a guy that isn’t a total asshole and I can’t go for him because my shitty parents are rich. Awesome.” Once again you let your head hit the headrest.

“No one said that,” Kie said suddenly. Slowly, you opened your eyes and turned your head to look at her. “What?” “If we just… don’t tell him…” “Kie. He would hate me if he found out I kept it from him on purpose.” “So… let me take the heat. You didn’t know until I just told you, play dumb.” “I don’t know, Kie-” “Do you like him?” You scoff, “I-I don’t know, I just met him today.” “I didn’t ask if you wanted to marry him, do you like him?” “...Yeah,” you answered shyly. “Then just trust me. Don’t bring it up if you can avoid it, okay?” You were still unsure. “Okay?” Kie asked again. “Yeah, yeah… fine.”

JJ was waiting at the Wreck when you showed up for your shift the next day.

“JJ? What’re you doing here? It’s Kie’s day off,” you say as you put your hair up, a small smile playing at your lips to see him again so soon. “I know, but she said you were working… I was wondering if I could pick you up when you get off, take you out?” he asked, bracing himself for the possibility of rejection, but you just smiled. “I’d love that JJ…”

As far as you were concerned, that was the best decision you ever made. Being with JJ was like nothing you had ever felt before, he always did anything to make you smile, make you laugh. He was a breath of fresh air from what you were used to, Kooks who think their existence is a gift to the world, taking everything too seriously; but not JJ. JJ just wanted to make you smile.

As time passed, and your relationship with JJ going strong, you found yourself forgetting what Kie had told you about JJ hating Kooks, because it didn’t matter. You hated them too, and avoided them as much as you could, spending more nights at Kie’s and the Chateau than at home. 

But it was wrong to keep it from JJ, and nothing could change that. And karma has a funny way of working. 

You and JJ had been dating for about 3 months, summer coming and going in a flash, but Mr. Carrera decided to keep you on staff, and you had liked working there and feeling independent from your parent’s money, so there you were; working an afternoon shift, when everything started to fall apart.

Word must had traveled to Figure Eight that you were working here, because when you showed up for your shift, Rafe Cameron the one and only, was already sitting with a group of his friends, being loud and obnoxious which only amped up when he saw you. 

“Well look who it is! Bitch who thinks she’s better than everyone finally got cut off,” Rafe said boisterously. “Fuck off, Cameron,” you said plainly, not letting his words bother you as you put your hair out of your face, jumping into action. You had spent your whole life dealing with Rafe’s obnoxious personality, you could survive it.

 But then, JJ walked in, and in slow motion you could practically see everything slipping from your fingers. “Hey babe. Thought I’d keep you company,” JJ says with that handsome smile. You force yourself to give him one back, trying to pretend you weren’t internally panicking. “Hey baby,” you said quickly before pecking a kiss to his cheek. “Oh, well now I understand everything,” Rafe said loudly, loud enough to be heard across the restaurant. “Y/n’s dickwhipped by a pogue.”

You can’t think, a million things to say or do pop into your head and you can’t prioritize them in time to act. “Babe? Is Rafe talking to you? How do you know Rafe?” JJ asked softly, which just broke your heart more as you were too shocked to reply, at least, before Rafe beat you to it. “Oh Y/N? We go way back. She used to have sleepovers with Sarah when her and Kie were on the soccer team together, isn’t that right?”

You try to look at JJ, but his face is scrunched up in confusion. “Sarah? You mean… from Kie’s kook days? But then-” The look on his face broke your heart, and you couldn’t pretend you didn’t know why; you couldn’t bring yourself to lie to him twice. “JJ, just let me explain, okay?” you try, but JJ doesn’t let you, as soon as the sentence is out of your mouth, confirming his fears, he’s running for the door, leaving you standing there with a broken heart. 

Two weeks passed and you were unable to get JJ to talk to you, and every attempt just made you feel worse and worse, so eventually, you took the message. Kie tried to be there for you, but you were reluctant to accept help from her since she was also JJ’s friend, so you spent most of the time locked in your room, being even colder to your family than usual. 

Meanwhile, at the Chateau, you weren’t the only one feeling the effect of the breakup. JJ had been cold, impulsive, starting fights with anyone who tried to talk to him, and soon everyone felt the effects ripple through. 

“JJ…” John B decided to be brave. “What?” JJ snapped back in reply. “...Man, we’re worried about you,” John B said, already JJ was rolling his eyes. “We can see you miss her. Bro, who cares if her parents have money? She’s still the same y/n.” “She lied to me.” “She didn’t lie to you!” Kie confesses, then sighs, “After the first night you guys met, I could tell you both liked each other. You haven’t really liked a girl since the Jules thing and I just wanted you to give it a chance!”

“You told her to lie to me?” “I told her not to bring it up. But I mean- did you ever ask her if she was a Kook?” JJ got a bit flustered at the question. “I-It doesn’t matter. She kept it from me on purpose.” “Only because I told her too! That first night, when you guys were vibing, that was real. She didn’t even know yet. And honestly- it’s a bit hypocritical for you to not see me as a Kook, but to see her as one. She hates Kooks too.” Kie said, bringing her drink up to her mouth, silently saying that she had said her piece. 

JJ sighed as he stared down at the drink in his hands. For once, something one of his friends said was starting to get through to him.

“Man… what do I do? I feel like I’m going crazy without her.” JJ said, desperation leaking from his voice. “Go talk to her,” John B suggested. “How? It’s clear I don’t know anything about her” JJ said, already getting defensive again. Kie uncapped a sharpie and grabbed his hand, writing on the skin. “This is her address. Now you have no excuses.”

On his bike, he got there in about 20 minutes.

Your parents had long abandoned trying to understand you, but they tried to show their love however they could, which to you meant respecting your privacy when you were upset, so you were surprised when you heard a knock at your bedroom door.

You sniffled and used your sleeve to wipe away any residual tears, getting up slowly to open the door, seeing your mom standing there with a worried expression on her face, despite her attempts to hide it. 

“Hey, sweetie, you doing okay?” she asked softly. “I don’t want any dinner.” “Well, actually, there’s someone for you at the front door, a boy. Said his name was JJ?” you didn’t need to hear anything else before you moved for the staircare, almost tripping over your feet. 

JJ was looking around awkwardly when you saw him standing in the foyer. “Hey…” you said softly, hoping he didn’t notice the way your voice cracked. “Hey… So this is your place? It’s… nice.” “JJ please believe me, I don’t- I didn’t want to keep it from you, Kie told me to, and I shouldn’t have listened- I don’t- I’m not like-” you struggled to find the words. “You’re not a real Kook.” JJ finished for you, taking you by surprise, and for the first time since the breakup, you had hope. 

You stepped slightly closer, unsure of what to say, but determined to not let the conversation die here. “Kie said you didn’t know about… Jules or whatever, the first night we hung out. Is that true?” You swallowed, a bit unsure of what this had to do with anything, unsure which answer he wanted to hear, so you were just honest. “She told me later, when she drove us to her house. But that first night, on the boat, no I had no idea.”

JJ took his hat off to rub a hand anxiously through his hair. “I wanted to say I’m sorry. Back at the Wreck, I didn’t give you a chance to say anything, and that wasn’t fair. I just wasn’t ready to hear it.” You nodded softly along with his words, understanding his position. “What changed?” you decide to ask.

JJ chuckles awkwardly. “I guess you’re harder to stay away from than first thought… And I’m pretty sure my friends would murder me if I didn’t come talk to you.” His words made you chuckle, which felt good after two weeks of crying, but then you two stood in silence, just staring at each other for a moment.

“I’ve missed you, y/n… I don’t… I don’t care if your parents have money. Kie’s right, you’re no more a Kook than she is.” JJ finally said, and you felt like your legs might give out from under you. His words made your heart flutter with hope. But you couldn’t make the same mistakes.

“I still understand… if you can’t be with me. What Jules did was fucked up,” you say softly. “Yeah… yeah it was. But you’re not Jules… and… staying away from you isn’t punishing her, it’s punishing me,” JJ said, making your eyes widen as you step closer. “Does that mean…” JJ looked at you, all the walls he built over the years seemed to fall down in that instant. “Please… take me back. I’m losing my mind without you, I can’t sleep, I can’t eat-” you don’t let him finish as you run over to wrap your arms around him. JJ immediately brought a hand to your cheek, lifting your face to look at him before he pressed his lips to yours. 

“I’m sorry I was an idiot.” JJ breathed out after you two pulled away. You shook your head, “I should’ve just told you.” “No, Kie was right. I would’ve assumed- Don’t tell Kie I said she was right.” JJ quickly added, making you giggle before you pulled him down for another kiss.

[post-itpenny]

What would you say your Elders are up to? I definitely need a refresher on yours 'cause looking through my own blog I forgot about some of mine X3

I need to remember everyone!

Dang it.

IF I’m correct this is my current list.

Bridgette (Former Clairvoyance)

Maggie (Current Clairvoyance)

Maggie is enjoying having no actual drama to deal with for once. She has her little family and she has her friends. She has also settled in rather well into her role as an elder, matured if you would. She uses Bridgette’s old realm as a place to conduct meetings with anyone coming to her for advice or if other Elders want to drop in. She’s trying to keep her personal life safe and separate.

Canis Major (Knowledge)

Is Canis, he hardly changes really. He has been finding himself in charge of babysitting more and more though. Annie adores her Great Aunt Venus who still works for Canis. So she visits often and somehow always ends up trailing after the Elder. He hates that he’s bound to answer every question she has (which is a lot) but she genuinely wants to learn which he is fond of.

Atlas also visits often, but is much more reserved than his sister. Far less a headache for Canis to deal with.

Adeline (Medicine)

Still runs her little clinic and receives endless patients. Lyra has actually been visiting her and is a surprisingly helpful assistant.

In addition, she often accepts med students and veterinarians for short-term internships. Most find her by complete accident but help is still help and she’ll take all she can get. To be honest, Adeline loves her job but could really do with a vacation.

Lethe (Lost Things and Secrets)

Another that does not change at all. Lethe mostly sticks to the void she calls home, cataloging and organizing every lost item and whispered secret.

Her favorite hobby is rattling the snow globe Blair is still trapped in. As she sees it, this counts as self-care.

The Jackal- Tom (Mischief)

Travels endlessly, he’s not much for staying in one place too long. More than once he’s run into Nigel and Atlas on their travels and greatly enjoys catching up with them. He’s also caused more than his fair share of trouble and is banned from more than a few planets. Oh well.

The Twins- Who still need proper names (Time/Space)

This is an odd one since it’s actually one person split in two. They have their own little space that watches over the various realities and observing each one. Company is scarce but at least they have endless entertainment.

Blair- (Former Creativity)

Still in a snow globe. Still hating it. He’s also starting to show signs of aging, he was made human after all.

Magpie (Current Creativity)

Unintentionally has, for lack of a better term, “contaminated” a large chunk of the warehouse district where she lives, twisting and changing the world to fit her mood and vision. The Twins have actually reached out to her and warned if she couldn’t stop taking over the reality she lived in, then she would have to move to a pocket dimension.

One lifetime of that is enough thanks.

On a positive note, most of the local artists really seem to enjoy the “park” she has created. Her home still doubles as a theater as well.

[mangodestroyer]

You know, they say you should avoid toxic people/environments, or leave them if you encounter them. But at this point, I don't really know how that would be possible.

I've come to learn that the world is full of assholes. And tbh, that was one of the hardest things to get used to in adulthood. Especially since I'd let some MAJOR assholes into my personal life. These guys are everywhere. In every profession, hobby, state, country, etc. And they come from all the different walks of life. Sometimes, they became that way because they were spoiled growing up. Sometimes, they just went through it and decided to become what hurt them. Sometimes, they really were just born that way. Point is, they think they're more important than everyone else, and they suck to deal with. And yes, I've even seen psychologists suggest they make up a good chunk of the population. At least an eighth. So they really are that common.

It's something that gets brought up when I look into academia and some of the schools I'd like to attend for my master's. My state happens to have a handful of prestigious institutions (one that's even in the top 20's in the nation). And... surprise! People bring up constantly how these schools are competitive and are full of assholes who think they're the shit.

Thing is... I've already dealt with that before? I took AP classes in hs, but it wasn't so bad then. But at the first school I went to, which happened to be prestigious (just not top 20), there were definitely a lot of horribly competitive, toxic, and egotistical assholes. If anything, I'm surprised the program I'm attending rn isn't like that. It's also above average, but it is online, so it does tend to draw in an older crowd/people who just want to learn.

And like I said, it's not like this shit doesn't exist elsewhere. I've been working in retail for three years. In a shitty small town. The rich snob attitude may not be so present, but there are definitely still assholes. I've legit had a manager call me r*tarded and give me tons of shit until I said something to someone (and she did this in front of other co-workers and customers). In fact, based on the two places I've worked, the co-workers can sometimes be worse than the customers (who you will probably only see for five minute max anyway). If they aren't criticizing the way you do your job or straight up verbally abusing you, they'll just act like you're too weird or annoying and sort of just shun you. Not everyone. But I'm not exactly related to anyone in this small town, nor do I fit in with the culture. So I stick out like a sore thumb. They've only recently started warming up to me a little more, but that's because I really had to learn to suppress who I am around them and be boring/agreeable.

As for customers, grey rocking and being less people pleasy makes customer service easier.

At least in a school environment, with thousands of people on campus, you can maybe look around and hope to find someone you vibe with. Tbh, I actually hate my retail environment more than when I was around those rich snobs. At least people weren't judging me for drinking bubble tea of all things (and don't think that's stopping me from buying more and drinking it at work, I just thought it was weird that my supervisor seemed bothered by it, and it just means that people will always find a reason to have problems with you so idc anymore). And I could actually talk about what I was doing in school, or the fact that I go to school at all (which is another conversation point people seem to loathe, even when they ASK). Retail likely taught me the useful skill of just keeping it shallow and neutral with people until you know them better. I have the autistic tendency to want to overshare and infodump and I've been working on doing that a lot less irl. But being so suppressed like that hasn't been good for my mental health.

So ig my point is that I'd like to pick which assholes I can tolerate more. Campus life can be a lot of fun because there are still tons of people you can try and get along with. And there are lots of things to do and explore as well. Even if you find that you don't like the people, you still might like what you're doing in school, or what the campus has to offer. My other option atm is to not get an education and almost guarantee that I will continue working shitty fucking jobs with no end in sight.

[anicyz]

Sensory regulation headcannons- Linked Universe Edition

Wild- He craves proprioceptive input. Deep pressure squeezes on his arms and shoulders, crashing into stuff, landing from high places, when Wolfie flops on top of him and weighs him down into his bones. Wild looks for physical forces to remind him he’s in his body. Let’s not talk about how close he stands to bombs solely for the shockwave. Wild also uses tactile senses as regulation, worrying ends of clothes, fingers gliding over different textured rocks he’s filled his pockets with, touch drifting over his scars, cataloguing bumps and ridges.

Hyrule- Also very proprioceptively inclined, he likes the feeling of pressure in his joints when he runs and skips, long bear hugs, firm touches. Deep pressure given through touch from others is his favorite, this poor guy is so touch starved. He likes visual sights as regulation to, watching clouds change, his own fingers dance in front of his face, bugs and fairies flying around.

Legend- His regulator is sound. Heart beats, tongue clicks, finger taps against his scabbard, clinks and clanks made by his copious amount of gear. When he’s at home he listens for the sound of Ravio tinkering around the house, he’ll sit in the same room or the one adjacent to hear him better.

Wind- Vestibular regulation all. day. long. The rocking and rolling of ships is calming as is twirling himself up tight in a sail and letting gravity roll him to the ground. Spinning in circles and hanging upside down are common replacements when he’s on land. Wind is also quite taken by sound; he loves whistling, rhythmic chants and shanties, creaking wood, tapping, humming. All are very helpful to keep him focused and on task.

Twilight- Much like Wild he’s prop and tactile regulation. Loves rough play, wrestling, hugs and cuddles are also great. Fingers running through his hair, deep pressure pats to his back, and running a brush up his arms and legs are good for when he gets overwhelmed.

Sky- Vestibular! Barrel rolls on his loft wing are his favorite thing as is anything involving being upside down. He also regulates well with sound but in the opposite direction of the others. It needs to be quiet. If it’s quiet he can do most things, to loud and he’s over stimulated and will shut down. That happened a lot in knight school until, Zelda made him earmuffs one winter and he hadn’t taken them off until they got destroyed on his quest.

Four- He runs the gambit of all senses depending on which color he’s feeling most like at the moment. Sometimes he wants lots of touch, other times he’ll want complete darkness. Sometimes he can’t stand to be alone and others if someone gets near him he’ll snap.

Warriors- Visual regulation, he counts his men usually. When he’s with the chain he counts them instead which often turns into an eye spy game in Hyrule and Wild’s case. It means he’s commonly the first to tell when someone is missing. He also loves watching fires and rivers because of the constant movement.

Time- Vestibular regulation, he did a lot of climbing and balancing during his childhood and the need to continue doing that has only grown. If he sees an uneven surface he will walk on it, on his hands preferably. The first time he gave in and did it on a log in front of the chain they were so shocked they didn’t ask about it for a solid week. After that it was a never ending stream of questions. He also take a lot of reassurance from tactile regulators. He runs his fingers over the grains of his mask collection and pats shoulders to feel the fabrics each person is wearing- this is especially useful with the chain as coming from different eras means the weave of their clothes is all slightly different.

[de-profundis-ad-astra]

Fury, Oh Fury - Part 2

Rating || M (Strong language) Characters || Ben Miller, William Miller. Word Count || 5.1k Taglist || (Starting out tagging some mutuals and people I remember from the previous taglist)  @firefeatherx​ @mylifeliterally​ @mandoplease​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @skylyknightly​ @havenforafrazzledmind​ @beatriz-silva-00​ @veuliee​ @veuliee2​ @oldstuffnewstuff​ @dindisneydjarin​ @lilacyennefer​ @dignityneeded​ @agirllovespancakes​​ @xjustmenobodyelse​​ @oscarflysaac @jaime1110​​ @goldenhour-goldenboy​​ @pascalz​​ @briskywalker​​ @herestherealproblem​​ @givemethatgold​​

Author’s Note || No matter how hard I try to keep this project on a backburner, it keeps kicking and screaming to be told. I had most of part 3 written before I put this fic on hiatus, and I’m hoping to have it written before the end of the year. I just need to get through this week and then schools have two weeks off for the holidays. I’m hoping to carve out some time for writing, then.

District Two’s training academy hides behind the façade of a retired school house.

Upon its decommissioning almost thirty years ago, district leadership descended upon the ramshackle building—and thus began its transformation. Training for the Hunger Games is not condoned by the Capitol. But what they don’t know won’t hurt them. While the exterior of the campus remains dilapidated and unassuming, playing every bit the part of a forgotten relic of a bygone era, its interior has its own story to tell.

Old equipment was cleared out. Tables in the lunchroom replaced with rows of sparring rings. The courtyard converted into a range for archery, javelins, throwing knives, and various ranged weaponry. The sagging, cracked walls refurbished and belied with the latest survival equipment and handheld weapons.

Children who display a prowess for fighting—and more importantly, a potential for victory in the Hunger Games—are selected to attend this academy. Training begins at age eleven, and continues until age seventeen, when one is selected to volunteer at the next reaping. These future tributes are up before dawn and smuggled into the academy before the first shift of Peacekeepers hit the streets, and are not let out until late—most days not until after the sun sets.

But the most notable feature of District Two’s training academy is not its staggering array of swords, daggers, maces, spears, every kind of armament under the sun. It’s not the skill with which District Two’s future tributes can wield these weapons. It’s not the way these future tributes can fire an arrow with devastating accuracy by age fourteen. It’s not the cleanliness of what appears to be a retired, collapsing school. No. It’s none of these things.

The standout feature of the academy is the first thing most people see upon entering the building. In the antechamber of the academy are three words emblazoned on the back wall, above the district’s crest.

Honor. Duty. Victory.

And this is the academy’s most notable feature. Painted and upkept with more care than several entire districts see.

It started out—in the early days of the academy—as an unofficial mantra of those who passed through. As time passed, and the academy produced more and more victors, these attributes were prescribed to every tribute.

Honor. Even being selected train, even if it did not guarantee participation in the Games, was considered the highest form of flattery a child in District Two could receive. Second only to being permitted the option to volunteer.

Duty. Once selected as a future volunteer for the Games, it was a job treated with upmost care and respect.

Victory.

Well. That part seems self-explanatory.

--

Future tributes from District Two weren’t exempt from training. Not even on reaping day.

Yes, the day was shortened to make sure everyone was present for the event, but the morning was still packed full of running, exercising, sparring, and survival lessons.

Ben had seen plenty of footage from the outer districts of how this day was observed there. It was a quiet, somber affair—the reaped tributes treated already as corpses at a wake. Families and friends shut themselves in, closed their doors and their blinds, held each other, and prayed that, however their loved one died, it was as swift and painless as the Capitol would allow.

But this was the Hunger Games. A hope for such things is, at best, a feeble one.

In District Two, the air buzzes with energy. Something pure and raw and not quite human. Of course, the knowledge of who will be any given year’s volunteers is kept under lock and key, so bets are placed, wagers made, on who they think will go into the arena based on appearances alone. Those who are selected to offer up their lives try to keep from puffing their chests a little too much, those who did not make the cut hide their disappointment behind polite smiles and kind words.

When the tributes are shipped off their families open their doors to friends and neighbors, who offer up gifts and well wishes. Parties are held for every event possible: the tribute parade, interviews, the start of the Games, and then then it simply did not stop until a victor was crowned or, in the worst case, the tributes were killed.

Then, and only then, did families shut their doors and their blinds, the shame of their tributes failing to bring home another victory outweighing their grief for the loss of a child.

At least that was what they said.

--

Of course, District Two cannot have an eighteen-year-old volunteer step forward at every reaping. To allow that would be to bring down the might of the Capitol if they ever caught on. District Two has worked hard to earn the favor of the president. They’re not about to risk, especially not something as high profile as the Hunger Games.

Some years, a fourteen or fifteen-year-old is selected, some years no one is selected, and the odds dictate who will be traveling to the Capitol that year.

After all, it’s may the odds be ever in your favor, right?

To find out that a district had taken the odds into their own hands, become masters of their own fate. If word of that got out about that… well. It certainly would not be a civil affair.

It was certainly an interesting thing to be said of a nation built upon that exact principle. The Capitol founded itself on this exact principle—built themselves from the ground up because they dared to carve their own path, even if that meant stepping on others. Who was to say they didn’t rig the reapings, anyway?

So for District Two to return the favor would be a horrific slap in the face.

If they ever got caught.

--

“NICE JOB, MILLER! If you go any slower through the next obstacle course maybe I can retire with my pension by the time you’re through!” Ben’s trainer, Alistair, screams in his face.

Ben keeps silent, his face blank and indifferent, his eyes straight ahead. He’s not looking at Alistair. He’s looking through him. Who knew tuning out Will’s lectures about training would prepare him so well for taking his trainer’s abuse?

“Go through it again!” Alistair snarls, and Ben peels back to the start of the obstacle course, hearing him scream “FASTER! I will stick my foot down your throat ‘til your shit’s on my shoe if you don’t hustle, Miller!”

Ben throws himself onto the rope net. He climbs.

Ben catches the rest of his team when he reaches the top of the rope wall. Alistair has them all doing pushups until he finishes the obstacle course, and Ben throws himself down the other side of the wall, gritting his teeth. He makes it through the course faster this time, and Alistair lets the others up. He trots them to the next course.

After the obstacle courses, it’s close quarters combat training with the squad of sixteens. Ben is convinced they’ve set it up this way just to show them how it feels to lose—to use that motivation to throw themselves into a fight willing to do whatever it takes to win. This is the Hunger Games, after all, it’s all about how ruthless you can be.

Ben looks forward to sparring drills the most. From the moment he set foot in the academy two years ago, he’d proved himself fast, faster than most others, even those much older than him. The trainers had capitalized on that. Now, at age fourteen, he can mop the floor with any squad except the eighteens.

Ben makes friends with another boy in his group named Ramsey. They share a brand of indifferent camaraderie usually reserved for teammates that only get along in the field. Ben’s had to swallow so much pride over the past six months alone following Will’s victory that he’s surprised he hasn’t choked to death. Ramsey’s strength is with a strange sort of sword-spear hybrid the trainers call a yklwa.

In close quarters combat, he’s a whirlwind, the weapon a mere extension of his hand. He takes down whoever steps into his path while hardly breaking a sweat. God helps whoever tries to run from him with the yklwa in his hand.

Ramsey says he’s named his yklwa Carmen. After a recruit in the fifteens he’s hoping to get together with.                                                

--

Will takes up woodworking after his Games. His home in the Victor’s Village is covered in them. He starts small—bowls and cutting boards at first are rough to the touch. As he hones in on this newfound hobby, his hand grows steady, smooth, until he’s crafting shelves with intricate details carved into the side panels, whittling animals with striking detail that seem to stand guard in their respective rooms. A particularly haunting interpretation of the cougar mutts he faced in the arena adorn the shelf above his fireplace.

It’s not until after he returns from his victory tour that Ben asks Will to train him. It’s over dinner, one of the evenings their father works late. Will brings home stew and a loaf of bread filled with seeds from the market that they eat on the floor before the roaring hearth. They tear off chunks of the bread and dunk them into the rich, savory broth.

“Why?” Will asks simply. He doesn’t look at Ben. He looks straight ahead at the fire, the dancing flames casting dozens of patterns of shadow and light across his face each second.

Ben pulls his legs up towards his chest, Will’s lack of enthusiasm making him regret bringing it up in the first place. “’Cause…” he says, unsure how to say it without provoking his brother to anger. “The headmaster at the academy keeps tellin’ me that if I keep it up, I’ll be able to volunteer in a few years. I want… to be ready.”

“You don’t get enough training there?”

Ben folds his arms on top of his knees and hides his mouth and nose in the crook of his elbow. “If you teach me, I’ll be even better—I’ll be able to win,” he mumbles into his sleeve.

Will’s eyes drift away from the fire, a muscle in his jaw feathering as his mouth tightens into a thin line. He sighs, rubbing at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Okay,” he says at last.

Ben, sensing the hesitation, backpedals, “You don’t have to.”

“No. I want to.” Will gathers up the remains of their meal and carries them into the kitchen. “If they’re going to ask you to volunteer like you think they will—I want to make sure you’re ready. I want you to come home.”

Ben doesn’t follow him into the kitchen, the weight settling in his chest too heavy to move. He just wants to be as good as Will was, he thinks. He wants to bring pride to District Two like Will did.

When he looks through the doorway into the kitchen, Will stares out the window, at something only he can see.

The next week, Will starts carving weapons.

--

The sword is merely an extension of Will’s arm when he knocks Ben on his ass for the fifth time and levels the dull point of the blade with his throat.

They’ve cleared out one of the (many) spare rooms of Will’s home and repurposed it as a sparring ring. Ben and his father were extended an offer by Will to live with him in the home. Due to the nature of their father’s work, he elected to remain in their house inside the district. Ben bounces between the two, though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t prefer Will’s house to their father’s.

Ben’s tailbone groans as he slides over the carpet away from Will’s sword. He’s fashioned it almost exactly after his weapon from the arena, every detail down to the carvings on the hilt crafted with extreme accuracy from memory.

“You’re stuck in the moment,” Will advises, flipping the sword around and pressing the tip into the ground between and slightly in front of his feet. He leans into it, the wood barely creaking against his weight. “You gotta anticipate, Benny.”

Ben groans, “It’s hard to anticipate when I’m too focused on not getting my hand cut off.”

He’s forgone a weapon during this session, choosing to focus instead on how to disarm an opponent. If he faces another tribute with a weapon, if he can get it out of their hands, he will earn the upper hand and put the odds in his favor.

Maybe it’s a trait that came from the arena, but Will seems so much more in his element here. He’s relaxed, lines no longer weathering his crushingly young face. His movements smooth, steady, his reactions unlike anything Ben had ever seen before.

How can he hope to go up against anything like that in the arena?

“Come on,” Will’s voice softens when he extends his hand. “Let’s try again.”

--

Ben keeps his focus on his own rhythmic, controlled breathing, sucking air into his lungs and letting it out in a smooth, measured pattern as his feet pound into the concrete of the track. He ignores the soreness in his legs, the tightness in his chest, his thighs begging him to stop and his lungs pleading for more. He ignores the others in his squad running in stride with him, focusing only on keeping the pace. He tunes out the pain, the people around him, and the world around him.

It’s just him and the road.

“Hey, Ben,” Ramsey’s raspy voice huffs next to him.

Ben stays silent, his blue eyes fixed downwards at the patch of the track he would job over five seconds from now. He breathes a slightly deeper breath than before, his concentration irked by Ramsey’s attempt to get his attention.

“Ben!” Ramsey snaps.

Ben closes his eyes, actively putting all of his effort into focusing on the task at hand. He centers his mind on the impact of his shoes against the concrete and his own deep breathing that makes a whooshing sound in his ears. He might fall behind or run out of breath, and if Alistair catches them talking, they’re in for all sorts of hell.

“I’m talking to you, dickhead!” Ramsey hisses, pausing between breaths.

Ben remains nonresponsive. Whatever it was, it could wait until—

A flash of pain sears across Ben’s backside, Ramsey’s hand smacking against his ass as hard as he can manage. Ben fumbles on a step with a yap of shock and hurt. He sucks down a massive amount of air and losing all semblance of pace he had with the others, only to receive a grunt of “Move!” and a shove forward from the boy behind him. Ben sprints ahead to get back into place, his face hot with embarrassment as he clenches his teeth and tries to regulate his breathing.

“Jackass!” he snarls at Ramsay, who cocks a playful grin and breathes through his mouth.

“You know better than to neglect me,” Ramsey pants, keeping up the pace. “I refuse to be ignored.”

“You’ve got a dick punch headed you way for that,” Ben croaks, his ass still aching as he tries to keep running the last half-kilometer.

“Whatever,” Ramsey replies with the vaguest shake of his head. “Anyway, did you do the homework last night?”

Homework is a rather loose term, but they were occasionally tasked with assignments to complete at home. These assignments ranged from practicing an advanced hand to hand combat maneuver, building a snare designed to catch a rabbit, or successfully waterproofing matches. The particular assignment Ramsey referred to had to do with reading about how to identify poisonous plants.

“Kinda late to be asking about that now, don’t you think?” Ben pants.

“That’s why you’re my friend,” Ramsey explains, “When my girlfriend keeps me out too late to do work, you bail me out.”

Ben grunts and cuts a glare at Ramsey that would have burned holes through almost anyone else.

“I know you’re jealous that she gets all my attention, Benny—”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Besides, we can’t all be dating some carefree, rich daughter of the mayor that loves to spend all your money.”

Before Ben can respond, a harsh voice calls, “Kick it in! Last hundred meters!”

Ramsey and Ben begin to suck in deep gulps of air along with the rest of their team, holding all of the oxygen they can and sprinting down the last section of track in a final burst of speed. They lean forward and tear down the concrete, ignoring the lightheadedness and the dull throbbing of their leg muscles as they pump their arms and struggle to stay in formation, the soles of their shoes pounding against the surface of the track.

The burning in Ben’s chest and stomach intensifies, the tightness of his body worsening as the end comes into sight.

“You better get across the finish line before I say times up or I’m gonna shove my foot up each and every one of your asses!” the voice roars.

Ben, Ramsey, and the rest of the squad picks up the pace, stomping their feet into the concrete and rushing across the finish line as a group, the last one just barely crossing before the voice cries, “Time’s up!”

The squad trots to a stop, and begins stretching against the wall of the indoor track, lined up single file in order to get out of the way of anyone else using the track.

“So, listen,” Ramsey whispers. “Back on topic: what was the homework from last night?”

“I thought you needed to copy it,” mutters Ben.

“Well, yeah. But I have to know what it is, first!”

“It was just reading,” sighs Ben. “Identifying poisonous versus edible plants.”

“Do you think they’re going to quiz us on it?”

Ben shrugged, indifferent.

“Quiz you on what, Miller?” a harsh voice behind them asked.

Ben and Ramsey cringe and do an about-face, knowing what they would see when they turned around.

Even though Ben had reached an impressive physical height for fourteen, Alistair still holds a few inches over him. He and Ramsey stand tall, staring straight forward as Alistair comes up to them with an acid frown on his face.

“Listen up!” Alistair roars. “Miller here thinks that just because his big brother’s a victor of the Games, that entitles him to a free ride around here! And Ramsey here is so in love with Miller that he can’t keep his hands off his ass! Both of them have disrespected you and me! They had the chance to do this because you aren’t motivating them enough! Therefore, I am going to punish all of you for what one of them has done! The rest of you will run while these two spar in the ring. If Miller wins, He’ll watch the rest of you do a switch run for a half an hour! If Ramsey wins, he’ll watch while the rest of you do a switch run for half an hour! Understand? Go!”

Ben and Ramsey both receive murderous glares from the eight remaining members of their squad as they take off down the track, once more in formation.

“Do I personally have to shin-kick the both of you to get you moving?” Alistair barks.

Ben and Ramsey walk past Alistair, staring at the ground, across the track and into the center field, in which was a platform boxing ring with holographic boundary lines on all four sides. Protective gear and gloves rest against the sides of the platform. Ben and Ramsey unzip the jackets of their track suits, underneath which they both wear plain white tee shirts, and slip a pair of gloves over their hands and headgear over their ears.

“Let’s go!” Alistair barks. “Your fellow cadets are paying for every second you waste!”

“Damn it, Ramsey,” whispers Ben. “I knew this would happen.”

“Oh, so I’m the bad guy here?” Ramsey asks incredulously as they walk up the stairs. “Is that what you’re saying?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying!” Ben snaps as they pass through the holographic boundary lines, traveling to the center of the ring and facing each other. “We’re in this situation because you refuse to be ignored!”

“Well then maybe you shouldn’t ignore me all the time, I might say something you need to hear,” Ramsey responds icily.

“Like what?”

“Like, maybe if you pull that stick out of your ass, you might learn to have some fun, instead of just being an asshole most of the time,” Ramsey shrugs, putting up his fists.

“Well, according to you, Ramsey, everyone’s got a stick up their ass, so maybe you’re the one with the problem,” Ben comes back coolly.

“Oh, for fucks sake…” Ramsey growls, taking a swing at Ben’s head.

Ben bends backwards, avoiding the punch, then steps forward and jabs at Ramsey’s side. He lets out a gasp of shock, then nails Ben in his cheek with another quick swing.

Ben stumbles backwards, a dull stinging igniting in his face, though his headgear had absorbed most of it.

“Do you always have to be so goddamn responsible all the time?!” Ramsey snarls. “You always have to be right and you always have to have everything follow your rules!”

Ramsey steps towards Ben to deliver another blow, only to have Ben sidestep around and slug him in the stomach once again. Ramsey clenches his stomach, looking up as Ben knocks him in the forehead with a hard right hook.

Ramsey flies backwards, falling on his ass, stunned.

“You’re not responsible at all! How do you expect to live up to anything that your family wants for you if all you do is fuck off?!” Ben barks.

Ramsey looks up at Ben, getting to his feet. Ben stands at the ready, his fists up to protect his face. Ramsey swiftly strikes at Ben’s face, a hit that is blocked but still distracts him enough for Ramsey to drive his other fist into his stomach. The wind flies out of Ben’s lungs as Ramsey delivers an uppercut to his bottom jaw, whiplashing his neck and throwing him back.

“I don’t worry about it!” Ramsey spits. “You could stand to do the same. You worry about things that aren’t in your control. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not the one preoccupied with my family here!”

Ben grits his teeth through the intense stinging in his jaw and neck, his anger fueling his rise to his feet. He leaps forward and strikes one, two, three times at Ramsey’s head, punching into a block each time but not caring. He steps back just in time to avoid another shot at his face from Ramsey, then back forward to hit the other boy in his upper chest.

“You’ve got no idea what you’re talking about!” Ben yells, punching again and again at Ramsey’s defenses, driving him further back. “You don’t know what I’ve been through and you don’t know what I’ve got to deal with.”

Ramsey grumbles and shoves upward into Ben’s elbows, pushing his arms up and pulling his left fist back. Before Ben can bring up a block again, Ramsey’s fist smashes into Ben’s jaw, twisting his head to the side as Ramsey’s right fist punches into Ben’s shoulder.

The dull throbbing pain in his face and the taste of blood in his mouth make the fall backwards almost unnoticeable, until the reverse polarity field at the boundaries of the ring throw him back into the center. Ben stumbles forward and landed on his knees.

“You’ve got to deal with living up to someone, Ben. I know how it feels,” Ramsey sympathizes, not attacking. “But you can’t torture yourself over things you can’t change and how you think someone would judge what you’re doing. You’re not and you can’t be just like Will!”

Ben glares up at Ramsey, lashing out with his leg and sweeping Ramsey’s legs out from under him. Ramsey falls onto his back with a rough thud and Ben leaps across the floor on all fours as Ramsey tries to get up. He puts Ramsey into a chokehold, compressing his neck in the crook of his arm, causing Ramsey to gasp out in panic.

“Well what choice do I have?!” Ben hisses into Ramsey’s ear.

Ramsey gags, and then taps the floor.

Ben releases his friend and stands to his feet as Ramsey collapses to the floor of the ring, coughing. Ben breathes hard, looking down at him, and extends a hand. Ramsey takes Ben’s hand and he helps him, still breathing raggedly. As Ramsey massages his neck and looks at Ben with a mix of pity and disappointment, Ben noticed Alistair standing at the edge of the ring. He disengages the polarity field and steps into the ring silently, the holographic borders flickering off.

Ramsey doesn’t wait for Alistair to say anything. He gives a sloppy, two-fingered salute, then takes off running down the stairs of the ring to join the rest of the squad.

Ben wishes he could feel more pride at his victory when Alistair turns to him.

“Best get going, son,” says Alistair, quieter than usual. “Reaping is in a few hours.”

Ben just nods numbly and exits the ring.

--

The last time Ben found himself standing in a roped off section of the square was eleven months ago, holding his breath as Will was declared the victor of the Fifty-fourth Hunger Games.

Now he stands in a clump of other fourteen-year-old boys, the space tight and claustrophobic as they await the start of the reaping. It’s one thing for a district as large as Two to cram as many people as they can in the square; it’s another to do so in the height of summer. Sweat rolls down the back of Ben’s neck and into the collar of his button-up shirt.

He’s been out here longer than many of the district’s children. He arrived early with Will, who has earned a spot on the stage with Two’s other victors. His chair is front and center, almost directly between the two massive glass balls containing thousands of paper slips and to the right of the mayor’s chair.

Ben’s name is in there three times this year. The thought is a small comfort, even though the odds are entirely in his favor. His heart throws itself around his ribcage, his throat tight. He catches Will’s eye over the heads of the teenagers standing closer to the front of the crowd, and he gives Ben a short, assuring nod.

They’re not going to pick you, Will had said while getting ready that morning when he noticed the way Ben’s hands trembled for a grip on his comb. And if they do, someone will step up.

He’s right. District Two’s favored boy to volunteer this year is an eighteen-year-old named Bromius who doesn’t know how to back down from a fight.

Though he stands directly in the middle of the crowd, Ben is sure he can feel the prying eyes of spectators around him. Him, the younger brother of a victor. It’s only natural for them to wonder if he will follow in the footsteps of Will and volunteer for the Games. He’s sure more than a few wagers are being placed in his favor today.

To Ben’s right, the crowd shifts, and Ramsey shoulders his way to Ben’s side. “Hey,” he says. “How are you doing?”

Ben reigns in the urge to grimace when another bead of sweat drips down his back. “As okay as I can be.” No matter being though this twice before, no matter how much he expects having to step forward and step on that stage one day, he can’t seem to quiet the anxiety that roils in his stomach. He still watches Will, but his attention has been drawn by another victor seated behind him, a pretty girl who won seven years ago, if Ben remembers correctly. They’re both smiling. Ben’s just glad Will can still smile. A handful of Two’s victors have come home, but he’d never seen them smile again.

Ramsey claps him on the shoulder. “You’ll be fine. Besides, you’re not going to volunteer for another two years at least. I wouldn’t be surprised if they asked you to go in when you turn sixteen.”

Why is everyone so insistent that he’s going to be fine?

The thought is chased from Ben’s mind when feedback from the microphone on stage squeals through the speakers. The mayor waits for the sound to ebb before launching into the same speech he gives every year. By now, he has it memorized. Some of the boys around him quote the speech along with the mayor with dramatic voices and giggle to themselves.

As always, they are reminded of the origin of the Hunger Games, reminded of—no matter how much they may be in favor with the Capitol—they will ultimately be at their mercy by sending in their children to their prospective deaths. The only difference this year is that Will’s name has been added when the mayor reads off the list of past victors. He feels a small swell of pride at that.

District Two’s escort is introduced. Terra Evervale, a woman who’s allowed the fact that she has worked with so many victors get to her head, makes a brief statement about how much she’s looking forward to introducing the district’s next victor to the spoils of the Capitol.

Ben keeps his eyes locked on Will, who has made sparing eye contact with him through the procession. With so many cameras on him, he needs to appear alert and engaged. Now he watches Terra as she announces that this year, they will begin with the boys, and crosses the stage to one of the glass balls.

She plunges her hand deep into the ball, rummages around for a few seconds to build the anticipation. By the time she removes the single slip of paper, almost everyone in the square is holding their breath. Ben feels his fists clench, his vision blurring around the edges.

Will watches, his expression cool as Terra crosses back to the microphone. When she breaks the seal and pulls the edges of the paper apart, he has the perfect vantage point to read the name before she announces who the male tribute will be.

Will’s blue eyes go wide, his mouth falling open slightly; Ben can see his breath catch. He finds Ben in the crowd, as if he could call out a warning.

Ben reads Will’s expression, and knows with terrifying clarity whose name is on the paper.

“Benjamin Miller!”

[atlafan]

My Everything - Part Six

A Take it Slow Sequel

What happens with Harry and Y/N after he proposes? How will the two navigate the engaged life while also continuing to juggle their jobs, friends, and families? Let’s find out.

Warnings: Fluff and smut.

a/n: not proofread fam, I didn’t have the strength.

Masterpost

“What do you think you’re gonna be for Halloween this year? I hope you step up your costume from last year.” You giggle with Niall at lunch.

“I know, Netflix and Chill wasn’t exactly original. We have somethin’ in mind, but we’re not tellin’ anyone. What about you guys?”

“We’re also keeping it a secret. I’m really excited El’s gonna stay with me while Louis and Harry are in Wisconsin.”

“Yeah, it’ll be good for you guys to get to know each other a bit more. Is it awkward at all that you and Sarah are in her wedding party, but Rachel isn’t?”

“Not really.” You shrug. “Mariah’s taking their photos and Rachel’s actually doing the videography, so she’ll still be there.”

“Oh good! I still can’t believe Harry’s finally gonna see a Packer’s game, he must be so excited.”

“He is! I’m sorry I couldn’t get a third ticket, it would’ve been nice for the three of you to go.”

“Nah, we don’t need to do everything together. It’ll be good for them to have a little trip just the two of ‘em, but I appreciate you thinkin’ of me.”

//

You get home from work, grab the packages waiting for you, and head up.

“Babe! The fabric for our costumes got here, I can start putting it together tonight!” You say as you come in. Buster trots over to greet you. “Hi baby boy, where’s daddy?”

“Daddy’s right here, pumpkin.” He comes over and kisses your cheek.

“Pumpkin?” You giggle. “That’s a new one.”

“I got a little inspired. I bought a couple today for us to carve, thought we could roast the seeds.”

“Oh that sounds like so much fun! We could put them out on the balcony for decoration too.”

“I was thinkin’ the same thing, baby.”

You and Harry eat a quick cauliflower crust pizza for dinner, and you get to work on the costumes. You were so excited to be making them, just like when you were a kid. Once you get a good chunk done, you both sit down to carve your pumpkins.

“What kind of face are you gonna make?” You ask him.

“I don’t really make faces, I like doin’ designs.” He says, concentrating with his sharpie.

“Alright, then what design are you going for?”

“Have you ever seen The Nightmare Before Christmas?”

“Of course I have.” He turns the pumpkin around to show you his sketch.

“It’s the dog.”

“Harry…I didn’t know you could draw.”

“A little here and there.”

“That’s gonna look really cool.” You look down at the triangles you’ve drawn on your own pumpkin. “I guess mine will look pretty sad compared to yours.” You laugh.

“Nah, yours will be a classic.”

You both cut holes in the tops of the pumpkins and take all the guts out. You separate the seeds into a different bowl so you can roast them later. You finish your pumpkin much sooner than Harry’s, so you go in the kitchen to work on the seeds.

“It’s all done, come look, I put some fake candles inside them. They look pretty cool on the balcony.” He says to you as he washes his hands.

“Oh wow!” You gasp. “You’re so talented, babe.”

“Not my best work actually.” He shrugs. “So I’m still comin’ to your office tomorrow to take those pictures?”

“Mhm. Apparently I’ll be in the winter edition of the magazine…I’m really excited! Zach put a really cool video interview together.” You both plop down on the couch while you wait for the pumpkin seeds to finish up in the oven.

“What did you talk about?”

“Why knowing your alumni network is important, why getting involved with clubs on campus is so important, getting out of your comfort zone to make friends, stuff like that. Then I talked about how I fell into the work I did, if it was my dream job, stuff like that. I talked about my hobbies. Even Buster was in the video for a bit. I talked about you too, of course, and how having a supportive partner can make a huge difference.”

“Aw, you didn’t need to mention me.”

“Well, you could see the pictures of us on my desk in the frame, so he just asked quick. I didn’t talk much about my personal life since that wasn’t the point of the interview. I also talked about why checking your benefits when job searching was a really big deal, and how I’m getting my master’s for free.”

“Yeah, that’s one of the reasons why I stayed with Plant Geo for so long, they had great benefits.”

“Speaking of benefits, when we get married did you want to come onto my insurance plan and all that? Or do you wanna keep the state’s?”

“It depends on how cost effective it is. More will be taken out of your paycheck, and it could just end up equaling the same as what I pay now…”

“True, I could talk to someone at HR and they could go over the plans with me. My copay is only like $10, not too bad.”

“Yeah, that’s really good actually. Man, that’s the one thing I miss about home, health insurance and medical bills are way less fucked up.”

“Yup, it’s all just big business here.” You sigh. “At least I work at a company that actually provides what I need.”

“Mhm, like your maternity leave? I still can’t get over that.”

“I think it helps that the CEO is a woman…she gets it, you know?” He hums his response.

“When exactly were you planning to get off the pill?”

“Oh god, I have no idea. We have so much time, I was thinking maybe a year before the wedding? I read that it can take like three months before you have a regular period again if you were irregular before you started the pill, and I was very irregular. Why?”

“Just wondering. I’m trying to mentally prepare myself for havin’ to use condoms all the time.”

“I guess we’ll just have to make sure we’re stocked up. Plus…it’s not like you’ll never be able to stick it in raw, you can, you’ll just need to pull out and come on me.” You shrug.

“You would be way too paranoid.” He laughs.

“Well, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, okay? Not something we even need to think about right now.” You hear the oven go off. “Seeds are done!” You kiss Harry’s forehead and go into the kitchen.

While the two of you were crafting he couldn’t help but think a few years down the line, having a toddler, and carving pumpkins with them. You’d probably put them in a cute costume for trick or treating as well. With how well you took care of him and Buster, Harry knew you were going to be an amazing mum someday. You come back out and sit down.

“Where are the seeds?”

“We can’t eat them yet, we have to wait for them to cool. They’ll burn your mouth.” He throws an arm around you and kisses you. “What?” You giggle.

“Nothin’, just love yeh.”

//

“Hi, Mr. Styles.” Trish beams at Harry when he comes up with his camera equipment.

“Trish, uh, you know you can just call me Harry, right?”

“I do, but you’re here for a professional purpose today. I thought we’d keep things formal.” She gets up and leads him down the hall to your office. “The CEO was thrilled that Y/N was being featured in her college magazine.”

“She was?”

“Oh yes, what a great way to plug Mark It. Maybe more young people will want to work here.”

“Right.”

She knocks on your door and opens it.

“Y/N?”

“Hi, Trish.” You say without looking at her, finishing up an email. It was nearly the end of the day.

“Mr. Styles from Styles Photography is here to see you.” She giggles.

“Ah, okay, send him in, thank you.” You smile and stand up from your desk.

“Did you tell her to be so professional?” He smirks. “They know me around here.”

“I didn’t say a thing.” You go over to him and give him a kiss on the cheek while Buster trots over to say hello to his daddy. “But…” You move to whisper in his ear. “It does create a new fantasy, doesn’t it?” You step back and blush.

“Don’t you start.” He shakes his head. “If I get my wheels turning on that…”

“I could really see it. A hot photographer coming to take my picture, you do that thing where you brush some hair from my face, suddenly we’re making eye contact…”

“Y/N.” Harry says sternly. “Enough.” You fake pout at him while he gets his equipment set up.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to rile you up.”

“M’not.” His face was flushed and his pants were growing tighter.

“Okay.” You scoff. He side eyes you for a moment and then gets back to his things. “So…how do you want me?” You ask in a genuine tone.

“Alright.” He stands up straight and walks over to you. He takes your cheeks between his thumb and index finger. “You’re not bein’ a very good girl right now.”

“I just asked a question.”

“Well, I-“

“Oi!” Niall says walking into your office. “You know the door’s open right?” Harry lets go of you and turns to look at Niall. “Probably shouldn’t be doin’ all that.” He smirks.

“Just gettin’ her how I want her for the pictures.”

“I hope that magazine is gonna give you credit.”

“They will.” You say. “I wouldn’t have let Harry do this if they weren’t going to put his name in. They’re even giving him free ad space at the back of it.”

“Oh, that’s great! Well, I’m headed out for the day. See you tomorrow.”

“Night.” You smile. Him and Harry wave each other off.

“Okay, can we be professional now?”

“Yes, I’m so sorry Mr. Styles of Styles Photography.”

“You’re a little bit goofy at the end of the, huh?”

“Just a little bit.”

Harry gets some good shots of you in your office, and a really nice one of you and Buster. He has you pack up your things, and takes you outside the building to get some nice outdoor shots before the sun sets.

“Thank you so much for coming to do all of this.” You kiss him. “I’ll see you at home.”

“Be ready for me when we get in.” He says, loading his car up.

“Be ready for what?�� He walks closer to you and presses you up against your car, his hips pressing into yours. “Oh.” You blush.

“Yeah.” He kisses you and lets you go.

//

When you get home, you get Buster fed and some fresh water before going into your bedroom. You wanted to freshen up for your man. You were just putting on some fresh lace panties when Harry walks in.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but you can just leave those off.” He smirks.

You slide them back down your legs and kick them away as he approaches you. He grabs you by the back of your neck and tilts your chin up.

“What I don’t appreciate is you purposefully trying to get my hard when you’ve told me over and over that you don’t want to fuck in your office.”

“I wasn’t trying to make you hard, I was just playing around.”

“Just playing around, hm.” He nods his head and lets you go. He undoes his pants and sits down on the bed. “How about you play around with this?” He points to his crotch and you get on your knees in front of him. “Wait, let me grab you a pillow, honey.” He reaches behind him and hands it to you.

“Thank you.”

You get his hard cock out of his boxers and lick your lips before licking up and down his length. You suckle on his tip while your hand pumps him slowly. You look up at him, and he’s already looking down at you. It’s intense it makes you groan against him. You sink down further on him, and his hips buck up, trying to fit as much of himself in you as he can. You think of something, and you pop off him.

“Harry, I need you stand up.”

“Wh, why?”

“So it’s easier for you.”

“Easier for me to do what?”

“You know…fuck my face.” You mumble. His eyebrows shoot up, and he doesn’t hesitate to stand.

“You really want me to do this?” His hands cup your cheeks to get a better grip on you.

“Mhm.”

“You’re gonna gag a lot.”

“I’ll work through it.”

“Just tap my legs if it gets to be too much, okay?”

“Okay.”

You grip his hips and open your mouth wide for him. His slides back in and moans softly from how good your mouth feels on him. He thrusts in and out slowly, going a little deeper each time. He had hit the back of your throat before, numerous time, but usually you were the one in control of that. Your eyes start to water as his pace quickens, and you try to focus on just breathing through your nose. When he hears you gag he slows down to give you a second, and then he jumps back in to what he was doing before.

“Fuck, Y/N.” He groans. “I’m gonna come.” He pulls out, and you leave your mouth open. His comes onto your open mouth, neck, and chest. He helps you up before he sits down on the bed. “Jesus, I think I’m light headed.” He chuckles and runs a hand through his hair. He looks at you, and you’re not saying much as you stand there naked in front of him. You had an odd look in your eyes. “Shit, let me go get a rag to clean you up, baby.” He stands back up, kisses your forehead, and rushes into the bathroom. He comes back out with a warm rag and wipes up your chest. “You did really well, took it all down that pretty throat of yours. Felt so good.” He steps back and looks at you. “There, all clean.” You blink at him. “Are you alright?”

You tap your throat and try to speak but it comes out really scratchy and hoarse. You try to clear your throat but it doesn’t help much.

“Lemme get you some water…maybe I was a bit too aggressive.” You grab his wrist. “What?”

You tug at the hem of his shirt, and he gets the idea. You wanted him, the water could wait. He gets you on the bed, and hovers over you. His lips find yours, and he sucks on your bottom lip. He plants gentle, wet kisses down your body, stopping to suck on one of your nipples. He twists your piercing between his teeth, making your head roll back. His hand slides between your legs while he continues to work your breasts. His middle finger runs up and down your slit before entering you. You gasp when he starts to curl it up.

“You’re so wet f’me baby.” He mumbles, switching to suck on your breast. He slides a second finger in and pumps in and out of you.

You grind against his hand, and he lets go of your breast with a pop. He retracts his fingers, and slides them up to your clit. Your mouth falls open and you moan out his name when his tongue enters you. You hear him groan as he moves his tongue in and out of you, and you tug on his hair.

“Harry.” You moan again, throat dry and hoarse.

He head your legs shaking. Your voice cracks as you cry out from your release. He continues to rub your clit as you come down. He grabs your hips and flips you over gently, spreading you apart and entering you. You loved how quickly he could get hard again. His chest was flush with your back as he rocks in and out of you. His hand snakes underneath you to rub your clit and you feel like you just wanted to melt. It still amazed you how much he paid attention to your body. It was never about him getting his, it was about this mutual pleasure that only you two shared.

Everything felt really good, and you were overstimulated.

“Oh my god, don’t stop.” You say in a raspy voice. “Fuck, Harry, that’s so good.” You clutch at your blankets and pillows. He bits down on the back of your shoulder as he feels you come around his cock.

His thrusts get sloppy and quicken, and a few moments later he’s filling you up. He pulls out of you slowly and rests on the bed to look at you. He smooths some hair out of your face and you smile at him.

“My throat really hurts.” You giggle.

“I know, I’m sorry.” He kisses your nose and gets off the bed. He wiggles his boxers up his legs, and watches you walk into the bathroom. “M’gonna get dinner started.” You give him a thumbs up and he leaves you to clean yourself up.

You come into the kitchen in a pair of light sweatpants and a t-shirt. Buster comes over to you and you pat him on the head. You guzzle down a nice glass of water and try to clear your throat. Harry was working on a stir fry.

“Why’d you want me to do that to you, I feel bad…”

“I don’t know.” You cough, and clear your throat again. “Just thought of it. I like when we take turns being more in control of those things.”

“But I hurt you.” He frowns.

“No! It was fine, it was just different. See, I’m all better now.” You smile. “My throat just got dry.”

“Okay.” He kisses the top of your head and puts his attention back to dinner. “Just veggies and rice, that okay?”

“It’s perfect, thank you.”

You sit down at the island and wait for him to finish preparing everything. He makes a plate up for you and he sits down next to you. He tells you about his day at the studio, and how cute some of the little kids in their costumes looked.

“I still can’t believe parents pay to have Halloween cards sent out.” You laugh.

“I choose not to question it. If these rich people wanna pay me for these little things, I’m all for it.”

“Oh, definitely! I think it’s great you’re doing all these little sessions.”

“The Thanksgiving sessions are all booked, and there’s only a few Santa sessions left open.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

“All that social media stuff you do makes such a big difference, that’s why so many people are signing up.”

“It’s nice getting to work together in this capacity.” He stands up and takes both of your plates.

“My sweet girl.” He says as he kisses your head before putting the dishes in the dishwasher. “Wanna watch TV for a bit? I’m beat.”

“Mhm.”

Harry lays down on the sofa and you lay in front of him so he can spoon you. You were nearing the end of the third season of Glee.

“God, the show got so hard to watch after these last few episodes.”

“Why, baby?”

“Just everything with Rachel and Finn, you’ll see.”

You get to the last episode of the third season. You both sit up so you can watch intently. You were sobbing already, and Harry was getting to that point himself.

“Wait…he’s not goin’ with her?!” He looks at you. “I mean, I wasn’t in favor of them gettin’ married right away, but…he’s sendin’ her off to New York alone?”

You couldn’t even speak you were so upset.

“Finn, no, what the fuck?!” He looks at you again. “That’s how they ended it?”

“Yes.”

“And you had to wait an entire summer to know what happened next…Jesus.” He wipes his eyes. “This show is fucked up.”

“You said it.” You wipe your own eyes. “Come on, we need to go to sleep.”

“You can’t be serious, we need to-“

“Harry, it’s already after ten, come on. We can watch more tomorrow.”

“Okay, but only because I wanna cuddle some more.”

//

“Morning, Harry.” Isaac says as Harry walks in.

“Mornin’.” He takes his coffee from him. “Ah, thank you.”

“So your day is going to be interesting.”

“Define interesting…”

“Lot of single moms and their kids…”

“Oh, why is that interesting?”

“Look at the reviews of you on Facebook.” Harry comes around to Isaac’s computer to look. “See, this one says, both Harry and Mariah are extremely professional, I’m very happy with their work.”

“That’s…I’m very confused.”

“Look at all of the comments. Harry was amazing with my son, I can’t wait to bring my kids to see him, I wouldn’t mind him taking my photos…and they sort of escalated from there. You know how wine moms can be. I made it so some of them weren’t visible.”

“These people do know we do any type of portrait, they don’t just need to have their kids involved.”

“You’re missing the point. They’re thirsty for you.”

“Thirsty?” He scoffs.

“I notice them flirting with you from time to time.”

“A lot of people flirt with me.” He shrugs. “I just don’t flirt back.”

Just then a young woman and he toddler walk in. Her daughter was already dressed like Bat Man.

“Woah, looks like the Dark Knight has arrived, Isaac.” The little girl giggles.

“I had hoped she’d want to be a princess, but she insisted on Bat Man.” The mother sighs.

“Nothin’ wrong with that, is there?” He smiles. “I just need a few minutes to get settled and set up. Isaac can get you anything you need.” He turns and goes upstairs to his office.

“So, how’d you hear about us?” Isaac asks.

“Word of mouth. One of the other moms at Janey’s preschool raved about someone named Mariah, but she was all booked up today. Then someone else mentioned Harry might have more open spots since he owns the place.” Isaac nods. “I heard he’s very talented.”

“He is.” Isaac smiles.

Harry comes down shortly and gets his spot set up the way he likes. Mariah was in her office editing photos.

“Okay, Janey, I mean, uh, Bat Man, come on over.”

The little girl runs over to Harry.

“Janey, don’t run! I’m so sorry, she never listen to me.” The woman huffs.

“No worries.” Harry smiles and looks down at the girl. “Is it okay if I lift yeh up and what not?”

“Mhm.”

“Thank you.”

Harry picks her up and puts her on a chair decorated for Halloween. There were pumpkins and other Halloween things around her.

“Smile, Janey. Grandma’s gonna want to see that pretty face.”

“No.” She pouts. “Bat Man doesn’t smile, mumma.”

“She’s right.” Harry says. “But sometimes he does.”

“He does?” Janey asks.

“Oh sure. Right after he gets a bad guy, like when he sends the joker to jail, that makes him really happy.”

“Okay.” She giggles and Harry snaps a shot.

He’s able to get a lot of great shots of her, and wraps everything up. He hands Isaac the SD card from the camera. Lately, Harry had let Isaac touch up these simpler photoshoots.

“Isaac should have these to you in a couple of days with the design you chose.”

“Thank you so much, Harry. I haven’t seen her have so much fun since…well, I won’t bore you with my problems.”

Isaac has to refrain from making a gagging noises. He knew exactly where this was headed.

“You’re a single mum?” Harry asks.

“Mhm, it was all for the best, but she misses her daddy.”

“Yeah, that’s, uh, gotta be tough.” Harry and Isaac make knowing eye contact. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go give my fiancé a ring before my next appointment. It was nice meeting the both of you.”

Harry slips away and almost runs up to his office.

“Oh, he’s, um, not single?”

“Nope, very taken.” Isaac smiles. “Will that be cash or credit?”

[blankdblank]

Acorn Castles

Ok, here is the Firebender series. I know! I finally finished it after having been swamped with ideas for other series. :D

All –

@himoverflowers​​, @theincaprincess​​, @aspiringtranslator​​, @sweeticedtea​​, @thegreyberet​​, @patanghill17​​, @jesgisborne​​, @curvestrology​​, @alishlieb​​, @jogregor​​, @armitageadoration​​, @fizzyxcustard​​, @here2have-fun​​, @lilith15000​​, @marvels-ghost​​, @catthefearless​​, @imjusthereforthereads​​, @c-s-stars​​, @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore​​, @mariannetora​​, @shes-a-killer-kween​, @ggbbhehe4455

Hobbit/LotR – @abiwim​, @jotink78​, @pastelhexmaniac​

x Thorin – @evyiione​, @deepestfirefun​, @queenoferebor​

@bun-bun-the-rabbit​​

Bruised and bloody you sat by the stream waiting on the Dwarves to finish bathing for your turn. None of the Dwarves wished to see you in pain or so badly afflicted by training. Dwalin out of all of them bore the weight the hardest, silently wringing the blood stain from his knee on his pants from a move ending with his leg hitting you in the nose. There was little faith when Gandalf showed up with your shivering wide eyed self to BagEnd after having wrangled another innocent bystander into the mix of his Journey claiming you would be the perfect Dragon Slayer.

A life of isolation on a tiny island with nothing but snow, snow and more snow a prank from the other young adults in the village ended with your being sent out to sea on a patch of ice. Another world where you should have been raised from firmer stuff but you were a scientist, a dreamer child of the two top researchers in protection of whales and all Arctic life leaving you less than popular for their impressions of the villagers who had been there forever holding less than factual impressions of each creature you came across.

It was decided to train you up as you couldn’t be left alone and no matter how hard you were hit even by accident you always got up and even once made Dwalin impressively scoot back half a foot in a full body slam at his urging leaving you groaning on your back in the collapse after. A rousing round of claps and cheers sure didn’t help your dislocated shoulder Oin was less than gentle in twisting back into place triggering a three day death of your arm unable to be rotated at all issuing warnings to him not to mend your dislocations that way again, because they knew it would occur again.

You were never greatly overweight, but in the surface of the water it was as if you were looking at a stranger. Thin and lean with dips and curves tracing each burning torn muscle throbbing to warn you of its injuries through each movement. Even in drying you could feel the silhouette of your figure had altered beyond what you had assumed possible. Not that you lacked motivation, you had scores to any task you wished to take on, merely when it came to fitness you preferred having a trainer or workout buddy, something severely lacking back home where you had no friends except for your giant fluffy bear dog now splashing through the lake following Thorin’s raven Roac. He loves to run and so the treadmill was your go to for cardio, something now helping at least to keep you from a heart attack through the body morphing wrestling and weapon training bouts.

Using your severely blistered hands bundled in sturdy unforgiving bandages small smooth stones were gathered up and in a circle you began to build the first house. Always while the men bathed or hunted for supper once you had been guarded through gathering wood or water on your own you would be found creating tiny villages with stones, clover, moss, twigs, leaves or any other items you might find around camp. Each day growing more extravagant with crude shovels from sticks used to carve out little lakes or streams through the town stirring soft grins onto your face. The act itself childish from the days of their youth stirring memories from each Dwarf of their own building blocks from days long gone, yet the act all the more admirable to them as it showed along with your adamant resolve that there were similarities between your races and upon that you might just find comfort in Erebor.

“Uncle, she’s doing it again.” Kili murmured in Khuzdul using his arm in a faked scrub of his face and hair to block the movement of his mouth.

“I see that,” Balin replied while Thorin wrung out his hair on the bank slowing himself to dry a bit more before pulling on his pants. Always as the leader he had to inspect his Company, even the ever unwelcoming Bilbo who did all he could to puff up and make certain it was known he did not take kindly to stares. You had shared that back home you would often wake up with small bruises without source. But the truth was far from comforting as through training they could find hand prints and large swollen bruised chunks of your body often leading to one or more of them to have to excuse and re-gather themselves from bursting into tears for the pain them in their stronger physiques had put upon you.

He hated this, but you would never survive if you were not trained, even in speaking often found to be too shy to meet the eye of those who spoke to you around the dinner fire. Gaze forward making certain not to impose. Not to be a hindrance. Not to create extra work for the Dwarves who made note of every accomplishment. Including the first time you could lift the saddle of your horse on your own halting Bofur and Bifur from assisting you on dressing him every day that stirred a wide smile from yourself to the ground in a silent moment of self pride bolstering the mood of the men on the beginnings of that gusty unpleasant day.

“Ah, a fine village, is that your former home?” Bilbo asked, the Hobbit’s arrival at your side had the Dwarves’ beards bristling as they didn’t notice his departure and from irritation on the chance you might be hindered from your silent hobby of assumed he was ridiculing you.

“Oh, no. There’s a game, back home, where you get to build your village and there are these houses with animals in them and you can go through the island fishing and collecting fruit and digging up treasure. I usually just recreate the layouts from the different versions I saw in a book on the game.”

Bilbo grinned inching closer on his knees helping to secure a tiny fence you secured the end of by winding another blade of grass to bind it to the twigs around it. “Well a fine job you are doing if I might say so. Built many a fairy dwelling myself in my Fauntling days.”

“Well, way I see it, if I build a Kingdom a day from here to Erebor I might be strong enough to face a Dragon.”

Bilbo patted your arm, “That is a marvelous plan. Perhaps I might take up building myself to practice planning on burgling a hoard. Confidence is half the effort, well concluded.”

Smirking to yourself as the words sank into the hearts of the hushed Dwarves you said, “Or at the very least I could fib and say I have experience in building to make it on a work crew. Lord knows there will be plenty to rebuild if it’s how I picture it. Dragons aren’t very slender creatures, all tail and wings bound to knocked a wall or two.”

Bilbo asked, “Any clue on how to face him yet?”

“Well, one would hope he has just left when we arrive, but fill a hand with dirt the other with wishes, which fills faster. What my Dad always said.” It wasn’t pride in your tone but pain, they could all feel the pain those words inflicted on you, how harshly they resonated and now they all had a deep ache to ensure any wish of yours possible to fulfill they would ensure came true. “Truth is, our Lords and Princes slew our Dragons to the last one proving their might. There isn’t much known about them to the public past they are gone now.”

Bilbo wet his lips seeing your melancholy gaze to the moss roof you were adding to a little bridge with a road underneath to help with rainwater collection, “Why does that make you sad?”

Glancing up you shook your head saying, “It seems you can’t throw a stone without hitting someone or a people with a terrible tale to tell about the Fire Nation, where I came from. Nothing but cinders and burnt bloody paths to bring about our glorious empire.” His hand extended to land on your knee drawing your eyes to his, “We’re not all bad. Some of us are just trying to make it day to day while our soldiers are out ruining our honor. We used to be so great, so good, that’s why the dragons gave us their fire in the beginning. And we repayed them by hunting them down and mounting their heads on our temple walls.”

Bilbo shook his head while the Dwarves just about were ready to cry for this truth they were just learning, “You are not bad. Farthest thing from it. There is no Fire Nation here, you are from the Shire.” He said nodding his head, “Consider yourself an honorary Baggins. I’m certain together we can see the end of that greedy old dragon, hopefully he’s long to bones when we get there, but in these lands our Dragons from what I’m told give naught but grief and destruction, no fire givers here. Two separate buckets entirely.” That drew a weak try for a chuckle from you and he wet his lips asking the question burning at him, “How did you end up all alone where Gandalf found you?”

“Oh,” you sighed out, “My father angered the Fire Lord so he banished us to a Northern Water Colony in the middle of a tundra of an island. The other children despised me, for where I came from, what they thought I was. But my parents were scientists, studied the animals and plants, what little there was. One day they must have snuck in unhitching my wagon from the trailer and left me and my dog out on a block of ice not realizing it’d break off and send me out to sea.”

“Varmints!” Dwalin growled drawing your eye a moment luring mutters of his try to not rant about how they didn’t deserve your company or presence on their island at all for treating you as such.

“Wasn’t all bad, I got big Bo out of the move. He doesn’t mind my company.”

.

“Trolls have the ponies,” Fili whispered to Kili only to have them flinch when you whispered behind them.

“What are trolls?” They both looked at you and you asked, “Like live under bridges, Trolls? We only have those in stories. How do you fight them?”

Kili, “Best way is daylight, but that’s hours off yet.”

“Boggins!” The pair said and rushed off to fetch Bilbo.

Under furrowed brows your eyes narrowed finding the ponies and from behind a tree you eyed a giant bubbling cauldron for a stew. All at once Bilbo was suddenly upside down gripped by a hand without a source and in the moment of deliberation whether or not to disarm to the order of the invisible Troll the men all seemed to be looking up at. Hard and fast you raced out and slammed your feet into the cauldron sending it onto the now screaming trio you caught faint slivers of from the scalding liquid sliding down their bodies. While the Company had gathered to catch Bilbo, who was sent flying your eyes scanned over the clearing to your quickening breaths asking, “Where are they?!”

The last of the liquid had lessened to where you could barely make it out in the campfire aiding in shadows to blot out their heavy steps in the grass, “What does she mean?” Gloin asked stirring questioning mutters from the Dwarves.

A swing of an arm straight for your head had Thorin shouting, “Down!”

You complied and Bifur asked, “You can’t see them? At all?”

“Sunlight,” you muttered, “Turn around! Cover your eyes!” A hand back to the campfire through a deep inhale spurred on a stunning back flip away from the invisible trio and in a wave of arms to a pausing position with hands joined outstretched in front of you the Dwarves’ mouths dropped to the wave of fire flying from the wood to your palms. A circle of your hands and a wave like motion of your arm to your right to a lift of your leg to ease it back close to a lunge began the circle of the brightening flames behind your back. The swing of your left arm came with a pendulum spin with your leg kicking up as your torso dropped to rise again, a quarter of a pirouette motion with your leg came before another dropping spin with arms guiding the flames to spark up. Fingertips gliding through the wall of flames stirring up blips of lightning while the Trolls shielded their eyes and the Dwarves turned while Bilbo hid himself behind Bombur. 

Brighter and brighter in the distance the Elves on guard took notice of the sunlit bubble just hours to midnight. Deep breaths to the dimming of the light had the group peeking out to watch your final paused pose with palms sliding together in front of your chest through the drop of your foot to plant beside your other foot. Bilbo asked in his inching step out, “Fire Nation? You, didn’t mean, literal fire the Dragons gave you?”

“Well,” you said then wet your lips that only stayed dry like the rest of your mouth. “We have an internal flame, I’m only self trained. Dad hated benders, having worked so long under them.”

Dwalin, “benders?”

“Those in the Fire Nation who can control fire. My parent’s were non-benders I couldn’t tell them. But there was no shortage of books to sneak from the library on bending techniques.”

Thorin just about hummed out, “You can control fire? Does Gandalf know of this?”

“No.” A whine from Bo turned your head to find him dragging a sack of potatoes you claimed and opened, “Potatoes?” That had the search for treasure on lit by a torch from the campfire you had sent the flames back to. Inside the hoard from the food you followed Thorin’s call to bring you over.

“Miss Pear, here,” your eyes fell to the twin blades and bow with a quiver he packed for you with arrows from several other half packed quivers found within the hoard. “These are more suited for someone your height, Elven made by the looks of it, light and sturdy. Might not trust the lot, but the forest dwellers can smith a fine blade.”

“Thank you,” to your braid hanging frayed over your chest his eyes sank making yours as well, “Something on me?”

Catching those same silver flecked purple eyes looking down at him he shook his head stealing another glance to your dusty dirtied wild curls normally in a shimmering white with speckles of tiny hues of colors temptingly close to opals under direct moon or sunlight nearly driving the Company to requesting a lock of it to treasure always. “Just, your braid has seen better days. I must ask though, did your parents have hair similar to yours?”

“Oh, no. Mother had the curls, but she went into labor while a volcano erupted and sought shelter in a temple for the spirit of the magma. When I was born my eyes and hair were like this.” Down your gaze shifted and you added, “Part of why I was decided to wed my betrothed.”

Balin, “You we’re separated from your lover?”

Locking eyes on him you shook your head, “I’ve never met Turok, his father once in passing when I was a child. He was a General and spoke to the Fire Lord who proclaimed the match.”

Thorin’s brows furrowed, “The Fire Lord proclaimed your match?”

You nodded, “Anyone of standing in the Fire Nation weds who the Fire Lord chooses for us.”

“That’s absurd!” Came at once from the Company and Bombur said, “And terribly cruel. Did you find one you wished to marry but could not?”

“No, I was sent to an all girls school once my match was set and I was secluded from any males outside my bloodline. Until we got sent to the Water Tribe village that is. There was no risk of any trying to befriend me let alone try for a match with me.”

Thorin let out a growling breath and locked his eyes on yours to say, “There is a great deal of cruelty I wish to blow back onto your clan for what you have endured.”

Dwalin said, “We will ensure when we are toasting and feasting to our return you will have no shortage of dance partners.”

“Oh, well, you might have to teach me the dances. We weren’t allowed to dance until our wedding lessons for the ceremony.”

For a tense moment the group held back their comments and Bombur broke the silence, “We should load the wagon with the food we have found, what could be salvaged, then rest up for he night back at camp and move on ahead.”

.

Across your back Bo slept in his usual way covering most of your body comforting the Dwarves that while you had a thick fur coat too warm for the chilly front rolling in leaving you just to your bedroll and a thin blanket that you would be warm enough. Past the now statue Trolls and bunnies and foxes eating the veggies from the spilled cauldron Gandalf strolled curious of what had occurred through the night. The trunk spotted through the cover parted by his staff on the back of your wagon he had found you, Bo and your things inside of he eyed the gold and treasure that with a muttered enchantment would not be visible to any outside the Company while inside the wagon.

Drawing back his staff he continued past the wagon finding you again with the creeping sunrise seated upright on your own a bit of distance from the camp giving off a faint shimmer through your morning meditations. Another odd trait the Dwarves tolerated once Gandalf had given his best guess it was a time for reflection to see if the Valar might send you guidance on your road ahead. A stick crunching underfoot opened your eyes and he could feel your return to the present next seeing your body turn and rise to grin in the usual way and welcome him back again.

Disbelieving Gandalf eyed you with Bofur and Bifur holding your hands a few moments into Thorin’s defense of you in that if Gandalf, who brought you into this Company, doubted your abilities then he did not deserve a demanded performance of said abilities. The dispute solidifying that there would be no trip to Rivendell souring Gandalf’s mood entirely to vanishing on the wind as soon as he had arrived to try and speak with Elrond to lure the Company there.

“Don’t you lower your eyes,” Gloin said as you helped to clear up camp in readying to head out. “Stubborn Wizard should have never thought he could demand a display, you were trembling after stoning those Trolls. No need to strain yourself without cause.”

Dwalin patted your back in passing you with his saddle resting on his shoulder in a subtle sign not to back up. “Listen to him Lass, not as if the wandering folk can control our Company. Barely a month all together that Wizard has traveled with us always off on the wind. You have seniority.”

Oin came over triple checking, “You are certain you are not burned?”

“Fire is more than heat, it’s light, a living thing. I can be burned but it would take some doing and I would have to be caught off guard.”

Oin nodded passing you a kerchief with a few berries in it, “A snack, last not scavenged by critters before the looming frost.”

He walked off with your thanks and the group made certain that you made it up onto your horse with ease as Nori and Dori secures their ponies behind Gandalf’s horse to pull the wagon they shared the front bench to. South you turned and for days stealing glances back when pausing for breaks distant echoes of more horses kept luring your attention to the empty distance even through the start of another deluge. Grumpy in the wagon Bo slept or moped looking through the front window lying on top of your bags while you sat under your rain cloak trying to keep from nodding off at your body’s urge to curl up when it rained. Another adorable trait for the Dwarves who ensured to have your tent ready upon camping on rainy days to grant you a mini nap before waking you for meals.

“I heard it that time,” Ori exclaimed as you turned for the end of the green pastures towards the distant mountains with slightly rockier ground around a well worn dirt path the men claimed their kin used often when they cross these ways.

“See! I’m not crazy!”

“No one said you were,” Bombur said patting his hand on your leg to his right unable to reach your knee on your tall horse.

Thorin stayed in a huff, “Probably those Elves Gandalf was so keen on visiting. We will lose them in the pass to the Mines.”

“What’s that like?”

Dwalin, “Dark,”

Fili, “Thousands of goblins,”

Kili, “Wargs too! One of the most winding forgetful paths our kin have laid to ward off intruders.”

“Sounds cozy,” Bilbo muttered and Thorin glanced back at you with a nod of his head, “If you feel up to it you could ride up with us up front.”

“I’m good back here out of your way. You know the path. Besides I have a habit of startling my horse friend here still.”

Lowly he chuckled and turned forward remembering the time a you had woken up from another rainy day nap and made your horse rear up sending you hard onto your back in the mud after your full body jerk to a leaf hitting your face. “Change your mind just trot on up.”

.

Dark and full of screeches the pass stretched on and on. When a glowing breath of a tiny flame behind your hand to peek at your pocket watch on your lap signaled for the night to camp in the pitch black cavern. A small cave was located and thanks to your flame between your palms it was lit up for all to sit inside once two axes were used to secure the cover for the entrance.

Between Bifur and Bofur you crept to the dark lapping river announcing its location even in the dark, another silent marker for their kin who unlike you and Bilbo had a clear view of the path with their eyes so tuned to the dark. Listening between shuddering breaths uncertain of when you had ever been in a place so dark stirring up a fear you didn’t want to admit their kind could not understand as the darkness was not debilitating to them. By feel alone each water skin was lowered into the frigid waters bubbling until full signaling your move to fill the next. “What is that?” You asked eyeing a glint in the distance to your right upstream.

By the sound of their collars shifting you knew they eyed the path to the right finding the odd glint you must be speaking of. Along the muddy ground under the surface it bumped and bobbed until wetting your lips you set the skins down to dunk your arm down nearly to your shoulder. Biting back a wince and gasp from the temperature you kept reaching seeing it was lower than your hand causing your knees on the edge of the river to slide. Onto your belt securing your over shirt the pair took hold to keep you on the shore watching your shift back as the slimy muddy mess with the glowing core came closer to the surface. “It’s slimy,” You muttered and from the hard rocky edge of the stream your other hand lowered to start scrubbing only brightening the area. Hastily Bifur removed his cloak to dangle around the water above your heads and hands blocking some of it. Above the surface the brightly glowing stone with a milky galaxy of glittering mist and waves in spectrums of colors shifted in your palms now fully cleaned narrowing the pupils of the awed Dwarves and yourself. Their focus shifted to returning to the cave as you asked, “What sort of stone is this?”

Bofur said, “Best take it inside.”

“Right,” You said hastily plopping it though the neck of your shirt darkening the world to you again for Bifur to re-secure his cloak around his neck. “Sorry.”

Bofur patted your back translating Bifur’s signing, “No apologies, we admired it as well. Quite a treasure you found there.”

Water skins were gathered up and to the cave the pair guided you to find the Dwarves smirking taking notice of your soaked sleeves. “Fall in?” Kili chortled out to Fili’s snickering.

Bifur however signed that you had found something and mouths dropped with Gloin saying, “Glowing stone? What stone?”

After ensuring the cover was secured behind you, awkwardly you dug into your outer shirt to bring out the lemon sized stone filling every crack of the cave with brilliant light. Dropping the jaws of the Dwarves who each tenderly took their chance to inspect it while Bilbo straightening up the blanket he had set down for your spot to keep a chill off you from the freezing stone similar to his spot. At his side you heard the debating Dwarves unable to come to a conclusive name for the stone that as Bilbo finally got his turn he asked noticing the tears in your eyes at another glance to the swirling colors inside that had quickened and slowed by how far it was from you. “Miss Pear, why are you crying?”

Post subtle sniffle you answered, “I don’t know why, but there’s something about it that makes me sad. Like an old memory.” Ori beside you patted your back and you said shaking your head, “Maybe it’s like something from an old story sparking up in my head.”

Ori, “I used to cry seeing gourds, took me a while before I remembered about this one scene of parted lovers from a tale our Amad told us when we were little. It will surface in time.” He smiled as you glanced his way, grinning to his, “You will see.”

Dwalin said, “Might be able to wrangle up something to help cover that if you like.”

“No, I have an idea.” The men got to fixing dinner while subtly you crept out to dig in the hoard from the Troll trunks. With a handful of copper cups full of white gold coins and a white gold chain the men smirked seeing you sit on the cold dirt by the ponies napping in the safe warm cave that with your hands you dug a hole just a bit larger than the stone lighting the activity.

Hot and hard into your palms you blew licks of flames until you felt the right temperature to lift the first coin you flattened to their awe to fill what they realized was a mold in the dirt. Steadily the hole was filled until the back was forged. Next the first cup was heated and using the dagger in your boot thin strips like wire were set aside then woven into a pair of trees. The trunk spiraled splitting into smaller groups of spiraled branches reaching to the edges matching the shorter roots. Then against the back you used your water skin to clean and polish smooth with more flames from between your lips and hard pressed of your sore but finally blister free fingers. Each motion skilled after years of trinket forging on your room while the other children played outside.

Actions luring the Dwarves into a trance the tree now heated was pressed into the white gold and set aside to cool. The other side of the stone would be covered with copper with the coins flattened and cut to weave another tree pressed into the front. That through the tiny holes they had noticed you wet your lips and with the tweezer kit Nori had passed you strips of both copper and white gold was woven into hinges and a hidden securing lock on the other side along with a harnessing loop to hook into the chain. In securing the stone inside your new locket you couldn’t help but giggle to the claps from the Dwarves who each took a turn inspecting the craftsmanship of the impressive bit of jewelry.

Balin, “You will make a fine jeweler, Miss Pear.”

“Perhaps for fun, I doubt I could make a living from lockets.”

The Dwarves scoffed and took to sharing the history of their kin surrounding jewels including shared bits of jewelry tucked on their persons that each had accomplished forging themselves for certain markers in their growth with the youngest trio showing woven bracelets yet to be old enough to be trusted alone to the forges just yet. Around your neck the chain settled and the locket rested surprisingly light to your chest as Thorin said, “Well maneuvered on the hinge as well, not a sliver of light to be found.”

“Well wouldn’t be a good way to pay you back if I got us killed out here by giving us away.”

His sentimental grin widened and he hummed, “I look forward to uncovering more of your hidden talents in Erebor.”

Pt 2

[ljandersen]

Hey, sorry if this is silly, but I really admire your ability to write huge long stories and I have a few questions if you’re up for it. How consistently do you write, and how much would you estimate you write in a sitting/day/week? Do you edit while writing or after? How much do you think about word count while writing? How much do you set writing goals and how rigidly do you make yourself stick to them? Thanks :)

That’s not silly at all!  I’m extremely flattered.  I appreciate the questions.  I don’t get many asks and when I do get one, I consider it a huge compliment.  Plus, I love talking writing: mine, others’, the concept, whatever.  These questions are awesome!

How consistently do you write, and how much would you estimate you write in a sitting/day/week?

I’ll be honest.  I spend a lot of time writing, probably more than most people have the luxury of committing to a hobby.  I do work a 40 hours job that’s stressful, and I have weekends when I’m on call.  But I have an off day during the week and I have the weekends, which is when I do most of my writing.  I spent a good portion of my day off and Sunday writing and some Saturday morning.  

I prefer to write in big chunks of time to keep the mood and momentum flowing.  Overall, in a sitting, I might write 4-5 hours.  In one day, if I have no demands or anyone home, I might spend all day writing (10 hours).  I’d say typically, though, it’s 5 hours on those days.  In a week, that’s about 15-25 hours.  It’s hard to say, though, because it varies with social responsibilities, house projects, and weekend commitments.  

It’s probably important to say: writing isn’t a chore to me.  It’s a passion.  I’d rather write than do anything else: TV, videogames, books, whatever.  The time I dedicate to writing or writing-related activities are my leisure hours and bring me a lot of fulfillment.

Do you edit while writing or after?

After!  I would strongly recommend after.  For me, editing during writing is inefficient, distracting, and often, a wasted effort.  Why improve the beginning of my story with my current writing skill when, by the time I’ve finished the story, my skill is even better?  I’ll have to edit that spot all over again to get it to my new standard. 

Probably the biggest reason I edit after writing is to keep momentum. I don’t write with an outline, and my story develops as I go.  I need to keep moving forward and avoid distractions pulling me backward.  I keep a list on the side of the changes I need to make when I do my edit.  

  For instance, maybe there’s a fight scene in the sewers.  What if character X knows the city plans to flood the system at a certain time, which will give character X the upper hand over the villain.  Character X sees what time it is and remembers the tunnels will be flooded.  He tricks the villain into taking the low ground.  The alarms go off, they both freeze, a weird rushing sound, then whoosh the villain can’t outrun the water in time.  I’d jot down in my notebook that character X needs to learn about the city flooding the sewers at a certain time.  This is a big reason why I don’t post chapters before I’ve written the whole story and edited it.  

Now, I could go back right at that time and add in a conversation where character X hears about the city flooding the sewers, but what if something changes again?  What if there’s a solution to another fight scene later on that could dually be solved, if it wasn’t the city flooding the sewer, but a big storm system moving in?  Now I have to go get rid of my previous edit and edit again.  

After I’ve finished the story, I can see it as a whole piece.  Now when I go back and edit, I can incorporate all those details and foreshadowing.  I can streamline without wasted effort and focus solely on editing.  I know exactly what I need to do, take out and add, and I’ve never been a more experienced writer than I am at that moment to make the changes.    

How much do you think about word count while writing?

I don’t think about it at all.  Since I write the first draft in notebooks, I don’t know what my word count even is until it’s typed up.  With fanfic I have the luxury of writing how little or how much I like.  Since I err on the long side, I focus my edits on decreasing word count, trimming scenes, and removing sections.  

I know if I was trying to publish my stories, I would need to keep under a certain word count.  For sci-fi/fantasy, I might be able to get away with 120 K.  Unfortunately, I tend to write longer stories than that.  While in my mind it’s all relevant and progressive, I’m sure publishers would like me to cut out the extra conversations between the romantic pair and throw out the quieter character moments.  Fortunately, with fanfic, I don’t have to.  It’s to me to decide if that scene is important to the story.  Word count doesn’t matter.  

That said, when I see the word count climbing on a second draft, I do start worrying I’m asking too much from readers.  I may not be selling my book to a publisher to worry about keep word count lower, but I do hope people will read it and maybe let me know what they think.  If it’s a juggernaut, the chance of that decreases.  Who’s going to want to read it?

How much do you set writing goals and how rigidly do you make yourself stick to them?

I don’t set writing goals per say.  I’ll be committed to seeing a story through to the end, which is a goal, but it’s not quantitative.  A few months ago,  I decided September would be a good goal to start posting “Sideways.”  For a while, it didn’t look like that would work out.  I was relying on a beta reader for chapter 1 and time was passing.  I decided I wasn’t going to wait longer than September.  Five week in limbo was long enough, and I edited the chapter myself with my best judgement.  I guess in that sense, I had a goal and made sure it happened.  

Typically, though, I don’t set a lot of goals.  I never have quantitative goals like spending X hours writing or get X number of words by a certain date.  It’s usually more like, “I want to get past this action sequence in the next two weeks.  Otherwise, I’ll be hung up here forever.”  I hate writing action sequences. 

***

Thank you so much for the ask, alphahelices!  It truly means a lot to me you’d be interested in my process and take the time to ask.  I would say large word count isn’t something to aspire to, at least, in my mind.  I suspect it limits readership in fanfic and, in traditional publishing, there is a hard ceiling for unpublished authors.  

That said, thank you again for the support and encouragement you’ve shown me.  You know, I love your writing.  I’m forever impressed by your turns of phrase and the way you create such potent imagery.  It’s poetic and beautiful.  Profound.  It means a lot you can enjoy my writing when your own writing is so impressive.  Again, thanks!

[twiceblackvelvet]

Can I request a ceo playgirl Tzuyu x fem reader ? Where reader makes tzuyu believe in love? Thank you in advance and love your writing so much!

A/N; thank you so much. i have seen requests like this before where the writer places the character insert as an employee of the ceo character but i decided to try something a little bit different. also, i’ve got to be honest, i struggled to picture Tzuyu as a playgirl so this may not be too good but i hope you enjoy🖤

For the last two years, you’ve been single. Whilst you’d love to say it’s been a peaceful time-period for you, the two girls currently sitting in front of you have made it nigh on impossible. Nayeon and Sana have been your best friends since you were children but their unhealthy obsession with your dating life is beginning to become unbearable.

Sitting down to lunch, the conversation between the three of you quickly landed on the topic of what they consider your lonely, boring life. They’re animatedly discussing a brand new dating app that some wannabe hipster rich boy has created.

“So basically, you set up a profile and decide whether you wish to be the finder or the seeker. The finder is anyone looking to earn extra money by accompanying the seeker to events, parties, galas and all those other fancy things that rich people attend. They pay you for your service as their fake date and you can decide if you wish to stick with them or move onto the next millionaire. You both rate each other based on how compatible you felt the date went, it’s all very professional.” 

Nayeon’s explanation of the application deserves to be placed into an advert, she’s seemingly looked into it very thoroughly before presenting the idea of you signing up. 

The idea of dating some pretentious, stuck up person with too much wealth for their own good does not sound appealing whatsoever, and yet as you think about your dead-end job and various bills that are quickly mounting into an enormous chunk of your bank account being whisked away from you at the end of the month, you can’t help but give it a second thought.

“We both have profiles, there’s no shame in it. You don’t have to sleep with them or anything, well... unless you want to. You’re basically just arm candy for them to show off to all of their friends that they aren’t losers who isolate themselves to their offices to flirt with numbers and stocks. Trust me, it’s sad for them not you.” Sana adds.

“Fine, but if I end up with some weirdo who tries to get a little handsy, I’ll hunt you both down.”

A high-pitched squeal is all Nayeon and Sana gives you in response as they get to work in setting up a profile for you. Surely nothing will go wrong, right?

It’s been three days since the app has been taking up space on your phone. No messages. No notifications. Nothing. It’s not like you’re mindlessly checking it every couple of hours to check that your friends didn’t include something embarrassing that has been turning every potential seeker away from you, but it is starting to play on your self-conscious every now and then. Even more so when Nayeon reveals she has been on four dates since your lunch meeting.

Just as you’re about to switch off for the night and get some well-needed shut-eye, a small vibration emanates from your bedside dresser where your phone is placed.

[YOU HAVE ONE NEW MESSSAGE]

The bold lettering alongside the app’s logo lights up your bedroom. Truthfully speaking, your curiosity is in fact piqued for a split second until you realize it’s almost 3 AM and anyone using a dating app at this hour can’t be a good sign. You decide to still check who has sent you a message but only so you can tell them to get better nighttime hobbies.

However, what greets you when the app loads the singular message is tame compared to the despicable things you expected to see. 

Hello. My name is Chou Tzuyu, I am the CEO of Chou Technology. You’ll have to forgive my being blunt but I am a bit of a newbie to this here app. If you are free tomorrow, I’d like to meet with you to discuss potentially accompanying me to a business event that I am attending the following night.  If this is something you are interested in I will schedule a time-slot and give you instructions on what to wear and where we will be meeting. I know this is all very last minute but please let me know as soon as possible. Thank you.

God, just reading the message has given you a slight headache. This girl couldn’t be any more business before pleasure if she tried. You decide to click onto her profile picture to get a better sense of who she is to help you decide whether to agree to meet her or delete the message. 

Flawless golden skin, wide cat-like brown eyes, plump red lips formed into a small smile and hazelnut brown hair accentuate all of the features perfectly. You definitely did not expect the person behind such a straight-forward and bland message to be quite as beautiful as the girl you’re currently looking at through your screen. Upon scrolling through the images, you can see her alongside a small Maltese dog, posing with several other women who you assume are her friends, in a business suit outside of her company building which reveals that she’s fairly tall and her figure is to die for. All in all, you’re sold that either this woman is a catfish with impeccable Photoshop skills or there really is a goddess-like beauty using this shady app when she could probably bag anyone possible.

Hi Tzuyu. Yes, I’d love to meet with you tomorrow, anytime is fine for me just let me know.

You hesitate for several minutes debating on whether or not to add an emoji to make things a bit more casual between the two of you. You eventually decide against it and hit send. The follow-up reply comes a lot quicker than you expected.

Great. 1 PM @ Jungsik.

A quick search reveals that Jungsik is a restaurant not far from your apartment, however, the reviews and images show that it’s rather expensive and definitely way out of your very small budget. 

Would it be possible for us to meet elsewhere? It isn’t exactly in my price-range nor will I have anything remotely fancy enough to wear to a place like that.

Three small bubbles appear and disappear several times with Tzuyu’s face beside them. You begin to worry that she’s going to cancel and realize that someone like you probably isn’t a good fit for attending the event alongside her.

Send me your address. My driver will pick you up with an outfit for you to change into and dinner will be on me.

You must be dreaming. There’s no way any of this can be real. You read the words several times to try and kickstart your brain into processing them properly and despite believing they’d disappear or change into another message, it remains the same. You consider pinching yourself to double-check but decide against it. Your fingers disobey your thoughts about it being a bad idea to give Tzuyu your address as they lightly tap on the screen to tell her where you live. 

You wait for a response but it never comes. You can see that Tzuyu has read the message though and decide to finally get some rest.

Sure enough, at 12:30 PM. the buzzer to your apartment goes off and a gentleman speaks through the intercom summoning you on behalf of one Miss Chou. Entering the sleek looking car with blacked-out windows, you quickly realize that this Tzuyu woman is from an entirely different world to the one you are used to. A white box is resting beside you and the driver instructs you to put it on. 

You open up the box and pull out a black satin mini dress. The texture of the item alone calls you broke but you also notice that whoever purchased the item forgot to remove the price tag. Your jaw almost hits the floor upon seeing that it’s worth more than three times your monthly salary. Again, you’re left to question whether any of this can possibly be real until the car suddenly comes to a stop. 

“I’ll step out now to let you change but please be quick. Miss Chou does not like to wait.” The driver says as he exits the vehicle.

You change into the dress as fast as humanly possible and exit also. You follow him through a set of doors into the stylish restaurant. This is no doubt be the cleanliest place you’ve ever eaten and worlds apart from the diner you’d regularly visit on your work breaks. Oh, how the other side lives you think.

“The table at the back, blue jacket. Enjoy.” The driver directs you towards a woman with her back facing you and hurriedly leaves. 

Your steps towards the table are hesitant and you can’t help but smooth out the new dress several times in fear you aren’t wearing it correctly or rather doing such a fancy item of clothing justice. When you finally reach the table where Tzuyu is seated you decide upon clearing your throat to gain her attention instead of sitting straight down. She stands to face you and her eyes scan over your entire body on the way up.

Even in high-heels, Tzuyu is still somehow towering above you both in height and demeanor. She’s elegant and graceful in her movements and you instantly feel self-conscious under her intense gaze. The pictures of her showed you that she is beautiful and yet here before you, they do not fully do her justice as she’s that and more. 

“Please, sit.” She motions you towards the chair opposite her own and waits for you to be seated until she herself does the same. “Thank you for joining me. I hope the dress is adequate enough, I had to guess your size based on your pictures. I wasn’t sure if it was something you’d like but it felt like a safe guess.”

“It’s beautiful, thank you.” She nods at your graciousness and moves to pick up one of the menus, when you go to do the same she grasps your hand and prevents you from doing so. 

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to order for both of us.” You drop your hand back to beside your lap and allow her to inform the waiter she’d like you to have her usual whilst she goes for filet mignon. “It’s by far the best dish, you won’t be disappointed.” 

However, when a lobster dish is presented before you, you can’t help but feel out of place. Tzuyu is quick to notice your confusion and fears she has in fact let you down before she’s even been able to present her plan for you to join her next week to you. 

“Is everything okay? Do you have an allergy? Is it not cooked to your standard?”

“No, it’s fine. It’s just, well… I’ve never eaten lobster before. I’m unsure of where to start.” A laugh lodges itself in Tzuyu’s throat with your words. “I’m glad you find my lack of fine-dining experience funny.” You roll your eyes annoyed at her clear arrogance. 

“I promise you, I am not laughing at you. I was once the same, I had no idea about any of this kind of stuff for a long time.” She offers you a genuine smile as she stands to move beside your seat to show you how to properly remove the flesh and what not to eat. “There you go, this stuff here is fine but this is the shell. Unless you wish to choke, stay clear of it.” 

Before you can truly think about it, words just begin flying out of your mouth after seeing such a kind action from by far the most gorgeous woman you’ve ever laid eyes upon.

“I have to ask, how come you’re using that app? If you don’t mind me saying, you’re a beautiful and charming woman. I don’t understand how you’re possibly single.” 

A more genuine and louder laugh exits Tzuyu’s mouth this time and for the first time, you can see that this is the real her and not the person she must try hard to present.

“Well, for a lot of years I struggled to see the appeal of commitment. I had plenty of companions to fill my spare time, however, none of them were ever the right for me. The position I’m hoping you will fill is somewhat different. As far as the women I have previously engaged with, I’d rather not show up to something like this with someone I have had casual sex with on my arm.”

Your face must be in a stunned state as Tzuyu continues to chuckle looking deeply into your eyes. Her honesty is weirdly refreshing and unsettling at the same time.

“I apologize if my bluntness surprises you, I just figure it’s best if we are both honest with each other here. In fact, that leads me to my next question,” She lightly brushes her mouth with a napkin before continuing. “Are you currently dating or meeting with anyone else from the application?”

Not willing to ruin the flow of honesty between the two of you, you tell Tzuyu that she is the first to reach out to you and that you wouldn’t be using the app if you were dating. She seems surprisingly happy with your answer though you’re unsure why. 

“That’s… good. I’d like it very much if you would keep it that way until I am sure that I no longer need your services. I don’t believe you will run in the same circles as those attending the event but I have to be sure.” You nod along not wishing to interrupt her thoughts. “Don’t worry, the event may be formal but I promise you the people attending will all be far too busy discussing themselves to bother you much. If you feel uncomfortable, simply tell me you need some fresh air and I will make sure to get you out of there.”

So far, Tzuyu is too good to be true. You will have to thank Nayeon and Sana for convincing you to sign-up for this app. 

“I will have another dress delivered to you in the morning with suitable shoes and accessories. Do you have a-” Tzuyu physically stops herself from finishing her question and curses to herself. “I will also send a stylist to take care of your hair, make-up and anything else you’re worried about.” 

“Are you sure all of this is necessary? I’m no one special Miss Chou.” The use of her family name stirs up a dark expression as Tzuyu’s eyes appear to be mentally undressing you. She shakes herself out of it before you can take notice of it. 

“Yes, you are. It may have been on short notice when I contacted you but quite frankly, you are a naturally beautiful person. I have seen plenty of attractive people within my life but none more so than you. Why do you think I have gone to all of this trouble thus far? I don’t just do this kind of thing for anyone. The majority of my relationships are a one-time thing that are not given the chance to progress further.” 

Once again, Chou Tzuyu has managed to confuse you. Your eyebrows have never felt so scrunched together quite as tightly as they are now. 

“What exactly are you saying?” is all you can whisper out in response.

“I’m saying that I’d like for you to attend this event with me. But, more importantly, I’d quite like it if you’d agree to do something like this with me more often. I will gladly pay you for your services tomorrow night in making me look good in front of a bunch of boring, old businessmen. Afterward, I’d like for you to allow me to date you. I can’t say that it will be an easy thing for either of us as I still very much so fear commitment, but I am hoping to learn, for you.” 

This time, you do pinch yourself to make sure everything you’re hearing is real and the stinging in your arm confirms you’re not currently dreaming. Your brain is running at a thousand miles-per-hour and struggling to formulate clear thoughts. 

“You do not need to answer now, attend the event with me. We can get to know each other whilst everyone else inflates their own ego. Then, we can see where things lead us. How does that sound?”

Truthfully, it sounds like a whirlwind, and yet you can’t help but agree.

“It sounds lovely.”

[antichristsxbox]

It’s a match!

Summary: You meet Duncan on a dating app and the two of you decide to go out for dinner together. Warning: this contains smut! :)

From the writer: Hey guys, this is the first-ever fic I’ve written about Duncan from House of Cards! I really like this and I hope you do as well. If you enjoyed this, all likes and reblogs are appreciated + check out more fics I’ve written on my masterlist!

Word count: 2,425

Left, left, left, right, left, right, right— it’s a match! A cute man named Duncan with brown hair and blue eyes. He lives in the city, not too far from your home in Alexandria. He’s a politician, or at least claims to be on his profile; he’s looking for a relationship but would also like to have fun and see where this dating app takes him. Perfect, you think. Before you could even send ‘hi,’ a message from Duncan comes through. He is wondering if you would like to meet up for dinner sometime this week and even offers to pick you up. You reply back, saying you would love to meet up with him although you live out of his way, so he shouldn’t bother to pick you up. Also, you don’t really like it when you get picked up on the first date. If your date is annoying, weird, or boring you never like to stick around— a friend is always willing to fake an emergency call for you to give you an out.

The time agreed for dinner was tonight at seven-thirty. There’s a Capital Grille downtown, and Duncan offers to call and make a reservation. While everything is falling into place for tonight, your mind wanders to what you should wear. Thankfully, you take Fridays off of work, so you’re not going to be bombarded with patients or meetings today. It’s very important, first impressions— you wouldn’t want to look tired or worn-out like after a long day of work. After circling around your walk-in closet a couple times, you decide on a black jumpsuit with a v-neck and a halter-style neckline. The legs are wide-cut and there’s a thin band of rhinestones around the entire waist. A matching pair of black, open-toed Louboutin heels tie the look together nicely.

Slowly, you make your way down the stairs to your underground garage. Whoever built this house initially went all-out— big columns surrounding the entire house complete with first and second-floor wraparound porches. A garage aboveground wouldn’t go with the aesthetic of this Antebellum South style mansion. Sometimes, it’s difficult to pick your car of the day, but today is not one of those days. Between your Mercedes S550, Porsche 911 Carrera S Cabriolet, Audi S3, and the Rolls-Royce Phantom, the Porsche takes the cake for tonight. The weather is nice tonight, you could let the top down and cruise up the highway for your short ride to D.C. Plus, the black exterior with black detailing, then red from the mechanical details behind the wheels matches your outfit perfectly.

Eventually, you find your way to the Capital Grille downtown. It’s already dark outside, but you manage to spot the valet horseshoe just in time before missing the turn completely. You exchange your keys for a valet ticket, then walk through the door held for you by the hosts. As you look up to see if your date has arrived, you spot Duncan at a booth near the side of the restaurant. You walk over and he stands to greet you, offering a small hug before the both of you sit.

“So, Ms. (y/l/n),” he says, but you cut him off before he could continue.

“Dr. (y/l/n),” you say with a smile, raising your glass of ice water to your lips to take a small sip. Duncan quickly apologizes and corrects himself, giving a warm smile back in return; he mentally kicks himself for not remembering after reading your profile. Duncan goes on and says he’s wondering about your hobbies, but could see why you might not have many as caring for patients takes up a large chunk of time. It wouldn’t be so bad if you were only a dermatologist, you go on, but you also run a successful clinical trial research lab in your office as well. Having to continually monitor patients is a huge time-suck.

“What do you do, Duncan?” you ask, glancing up to meet his brilliant blue eyes. He explains that he is a politician and many of his family members are prominent people around the city as well. Sure, you think you’ve seen Duncan in an interview or read about him in an article or two, you recall. After making small talk about each other’s careers for a bit longer, you begin to delve into what intrigued you about the other. What ‘made you swipe,’ per se. For you, Duncan seemed nice and cute as well as successful from what he described in his profile. You look for men with a similar drive and ambition as you or else you may get bored, you say. Similarly, Duncan says he was attracted to your success and ambition in your field of work. He even remarks that he has visited your practice before, but seen your nurse practitioner rather than you. As you continue to chat with Duncan, you begin to wonder if he would ride back home with you. Sure, he may be looking for a relationship, but you’re not sure you’d like to spend time getting to know this man if he’s a not a good fuck. There’s plenty of cuter, more successful men in D.C. for you to spend your time on if Duncan can’t make it happen. Sometimes, nice guys are nice because they need to compensate for something.

“So, did you drive here?” you ask, gliding your finger across the top of your water glass in circles.

“Oh, no, I Ubered in case we wanted to get a bottle of wine,” he says.

Perfect, you think. You could offer Duncan a ride back to his place or offer him a ride to your place. How could he resist at that point? After dinner has come to an end, you and Duncan make your way out to the valet horseshoe again. He holds the door for you and offers to wait with you while your car is being pulled up.

“I could give you a ride home,” you say with a smile. He initially declines, but then graciously accepts your offer when he opens the Uber app and finds that no rides are available near him. A loud, high-pitched whirring noise fills the alcove, and you could tell your car close. The turbo engine causes the noise to be more high-pitched than a regular engine as the turbines spin ten times faster than a regular engine would allow. You step forward and hand the valet boy your ticket from where the top would be if it was up.

“This is you?” Duncan says, raising his eyebrows and smiling. You make your way to the driver’s side door— the valet boy left it open for you, then closes it behind you as you tuck your feet inside. Duncan opens the passenger side door and climbs in. As soon as you pull out from the restaurant’s front and stop to turn on the road, you begin to speak.

“Why don’t you come home with me?” you ask, turning on your turn signal to indicate the right turn you’re about to make. There’s a line of cars passing by for now, so you turn to Duncan in anticipation of his response. There is not much hesitation before he nods his head yes and a smile curls around his face.

To no surprise on Duncan’s end, he is now pulling up towards an amazing home. What really gets him is the underground garage. What a nice touch, he thinks to himself. He knows for sure she’ll never be after his money— perhaps he’s going for hers at this point. Although that may be a joke with himself, for now, he knows that the car he’s currently sitting in is half a year’s salary at his job now. For the current object of his attention, this is just frivolous spending money. For her, a quarter-million dollars is nothing, especially in a garage with three more amazing, beautiful cars. All cars are shiny black— each with stunning, custom details.

You press a button near the rearview mirror and the garage begins to close. The trip up the stairs to the first floor of your house is longer than you would like it to be, especially with Duncan on your mind. He stands behind you on the stairs, as a gentleman should— ready to catch the lady if she slips or tumbles. Once you’ve made it upstairs, you don’t bother walking all the way to your room, you sit down on the couch in your living room. Duncan soon follows, sitting right next to you, resting his hand on your thigh. As he leans in for a kiss, you surge forward to meet his lips. His scruffy facial hair tickles your face, but you pull away from his lips as it begins to scratch. Men with facial hair are amazing, but you prefer it to be a little longer so it could be smoother rather than prickly. Nothing against Duncan himself so far, though— amazing kisser, that man. His hands move from your shoulders down to your waist, and he attempts to tug your jumpsuit up, probably thinking it’s a shirt.

“Oh, I got that,” you say, reaching behind you to unzip the zipper from the back of your outfit. As the zipper becomes undone, the neckline to your outfit loosens and a sleeve begins to fall from your shoulder. Duncan unbuttons his own shirt and allows that to fall to the floor, then peels off his undershirt and throws it across the room. You let your sleeves slip all the way down your arms, then off your fingertips until the top of your jumpsuit pools at your waist, leaving you sitting on the couch in your bra and pants. Kicking off your shoes, you pull your jumpsuit down further so you would only be in your bra and underwear. After seeing this, Duncan makes haste to unbuckle his pants and belt, then casts those to the side as well. Clearly, he was excited to be here as there is a prominent bulge present in his boxers, straining against the thin fabric. Duncan’s soft hands meet your unclothed waist— this gives you the chills as be begins to kiss you again, scruffy facial hair and all. Now, you’re beginning to feel a growing sense of urgency pool between your legs, and you’re eager to explore what Duncan has to offer.

“Why don’t we move this to the bedroom?” he asks after breaking his string of kisses. You agree and stand up to lead Duncan to your bedroom. After arriving at the master suite, it doesn’t take long for both of you to climb on the bed. Duncan’s beneath you as you lay on top of him, legs straddled above his waist, brushing over his solid erection. Your lips are still crashing together, but your mouth grows wider with every kiss, accepting more of Duncan with every movement. One of his hands travel to your back while the other begins to massage one of your breasts, then you feel your bra unhook and fall in front of you. Duncan catches it with the hand that was occupied with your breast, then he throws it off the bed. After this, you reach to tug down your underwear, then cast it aside like your bra. Duncan’s erection springs up from his boxers, and it’s a clear sign of relief when he is freed from the confines of his tight underwear. After exchanging a few more passionate kisses, you reach for his long, thick member and line it up with your entrance. He lets out a few small groans as you touch him. As you begin to sink down on him, he bucks his hips up and thrusts himself further in, yet you’re not all the way adjusted to how he feels in you. As you rock your hips over him a few times, the feeling of him stretching your walls all the way begins to sink in— there’s not a space inside untouched by Duncan, you’re completely full. You shift back and forth on him, causing the pressure due to him being more and less present in alternating sides inside you. The most pleasure comes from moving your hips forward, having him press back inside you near your most sensitive areas. After a few more minutes of this, Duncan leans forward and tells you to lay down.

He’s now between your thighs with your legs wrapped around his waist, ankles crossing behind him. Now, he’s pounding into you, skin hardly slapping against skin. For a while, it was a dull sensation— but, time after time, it’s now biting and harsh every time he smacks himself against you, balls slapping against your wet heat repeatedly for the past few minutes now. You could tell where he was inside of you by tracking where the significantly thicker head was from the rest of his cock, the suction caused by this letting a lewd popping sound release through the air every time he pulls completely out and then re-enters. Duncan then decided to place a pillow under your hips, allowing for him to angle down inside you to hit your sweet spot. Not long after this, you feel your orgasm is near. Tightening your grip on Duncan with your legs, you begin to rock your hips in sync with every thrust he makes, chasing your own pleasure. As his movements become somewhat erratic and varying from his usual thrust force, he either shifts slightly or slams even harder into you. After a few deep breaths and hard thrusts, Duncan releases himself inside you, pushing himself even deeper inside, almost brushing your cervix. Following this, your orgasm washes over you, clenching around his cock and drawing his warmth even deeper inside you. Muscle contractions move up his cock, squeezing him for anything he has left.

Slowly, Duncan exits you, followed by a trail of his cum leaking from your entrance. He looks down and licks his lips at the sight of you laying down in front of him, full of him.

“You’re staying over,” you say, no room to interpret that as a question due to your commanding tone.

“I couldn’t leave if I wanted to, baby, you’re my ride home,” he says, laying down next to you and smiling.

“I don’t want to, though. You actually don’t have to take me back to my place at all.”

///

*** I’ve tagged you if you asked to be on my tag list or if I thought you would be interested in this fic based on interactions with my other fics/posts! Let me know if you would like to be added or removed from my tag list. :)

Tag list: @langdonsoceaneyes​ @ms-mead​ @daydreamingofcody​ @psychobitchtess​ @swampwitchh13​ @ahstmblrupdates​ @forgivemelucifer​ @jocelynscloset​ @ccodyfern​ @sammy-samm​ @xavierplymptonsangel​ @lilithrmorningstar1​ @slashersrus​ @im-the-music-whore​ @isometimeswrite132​ @gingersnapped13​ @recklessmoannn​ @nickiechao11​ @dani5216​ @antichristsqueen666​​ @nightsblackroses​​ @bitchchatter​​

[erintoknow]

leave no room for anything

Spiraling - A Fallen Hero: Rebirth Fan-fiction

You need cover, you need an alibi, and you need a place to plan and work out your next criminal action. What could go wrong from combining all that? [Survival]

[Read on AO3]

Another day, another spike of adrenaline courses through you as you dive feet first through a stack of boxes, sending crates of delicate electronic equipment everywhere. You can hear alarms sound around you as the factory goes into full alert, the clanging of barring gates. You grin under the mirror sheen of your helmet. That suits you fine, keep the small fry penned up and out of the way? You’re too kind.

The wall in front of you collapses into dust thanks to the nanovores and you tear through the office, grabbing at papers at random. What you take doesn’t actually matter at this point, compromising their records is the goal here.

Damage done, you refer to your map, dissolve another wall and follow your thread out, back to the main entrance.

The woman standing in your way gives you pause. You’d been psyching yourself up for a rematch against Chen, but no, its Lady Argent, hands at her sides and poised to rush you. A half-circle of rent-a-cop security goons behind her block you in. “A factory, Puppetmaster? What, they stop inviting you out to parties?” She smirks and hunches down, fingers lengthening into sharpened claws.

Your face twitches under your helmet. “Don’t read the papers, Argent? It’s Ghost.” You hiss. Your voice, filtered through your helmet has a hollow, flat sound. You take a quick count of Lady Argent’s back-up, who’s most pliable to tying up the rest. None of the officers seem to trust Argent. Good. That makes this easier.

The woman of steel looks unimpressed. “Can’t say I care what you call yourself.”

That does it.

One of the rent-a-cop’s guns goes off ‘prematurely’, firing wide to your left, the rest follow in blind panic as you dive to the side. Argent is too focused on you, but with the Rat-King’s help you’re able to pull the rest of the goof troop into your song, pulling their attention in random directions. One of the shots dings Argent in her shoulder, bouncing off to through ground and to her credit she doesn’t look for the culprit, making straight for you.

You run your hand along the ground as you move, leaving a split in the asphalt as the Nanovores chew through material. Lady Argent tries to cut you off so you encourage two of the goons to stumble into her way as you continue your circle around them. You can’t afford to move slow enough for a deep groove, but if this works as planned, all you need is to prime the cut.

If it works.

Argent huffs, shoving one of the men the side, only for another to conveniently take position between the two of you. “Get out of the way!” It doesn’t slow her down for long, but it’s enough for you to finish the circle. Under your helmet you grin, heart pounding.

All that’s left is the magic word. You give the Rat-King the command to pull the strings and yank everyone back in.

You dash forward and slide down, just under the swipe of her claws. She turns to stab down at you as you come to halt. You roll out of the way and kick her arm aside on your way back up.

You check to make sure everyone’s inside the circle you’ve carved through the asphalt. “Heads up.” is all the warning you give before an explosion rocks the ground under everyone’s feet. A furious Argent diving towards you finds only empty space underneath her, and you leap back as the asphalt caves in.

When the dust clears you risk taking a quick check of everyone’s mental state; a lot of fear and alarm, some pain, but the headcount is still the same. You think.

Hopefully.

You shake your head. Focus. Don’t get distracted. Stay in control. You watch Argent and the rest pick themselves up, clear rubble off their buddies. You have to harden your heart against it, remember who they are, what they represent. “Next time,” you call down, “remember my fucking name!”

Admittedly, Argent makes it easier. She’s staring up at you, a single silver middle finger outstretched.

You don’t like the way she’s eyeing one of the support columns. Can she climb her way out? You don’t intend to stick around and see, it’s time to make yourself scarce.

–––

Every super villain needs a secret lair. A base of operations. Somewhere you can plan your next move, keep mission critical materials. If Ariadne is going to be stuck playing retired civilian, it’s even more important to keep her as separated as you can from Ghost’s activities.

Eventually the day will come when you have to cast off that identity completely, but two years isn’t long enough to make you eager to resume a life of being actively on the run from a government agency. You need to gather more influence – and protection – if you’re going to ever unmask without it being an immediate disaster.

To that end… Ariadne needs a cover. She needs a job, co-workers, hobbies. A new wardrobe. You need Ortega to take a breather and ease off on trying worm her way in and fix every little aspect of your life.

So you’ll combine the two.

Technically a ‘Melissa Simone’ owns the computer repair shop you’re standing in front of. Ms. Simone also interviewed and hired yourself and the middle-aged lady with greying hair now manning the front counter.

You put a hand on the front door, hesitating. You keep putting this off but… guess you better ‘officially’ meet your new co-worker.

A bell chimes as you step inside. Old computer advertisements adorn the walls while parts and models are neatly stacked into three aisles across the open front half of the room. The building itself is on the older side. Hopefully a bit more use will get it looking properly run down enough to seem like it’s always been a repair shop here.

The woman at the counter looks up with a smile, a phone pressed to her ear. She holds a finger up as you approach.

You didn’t hire Marcie for her customer service skills. You hired her because she’s a terminally incurious middle-aged woman who fully intends to spend as much of her time talking to friends on the store phone or otherwise shirking her duties as much as possible.

Leaning an arm against the counter you wait for her to finish her current conversation, drumming your fingers against the wooden countertop. Watch the clock on the wall tick the seconds by. Finally she hangs up and turns back to you with a tired expression. “Alright, what do you want?”

You put on a sickly sweet smile. “My name is Ariadne Becker? Y–your um… co-worker?��

Marcie blinks, frowns, then flushes red. “Oh!” She hurries out from behind the counter, “Oh, I’m so sorry. I thought you were a customer.”

“I could tell.”

She puts her hand out and you give it a quick shake. “Are you really the only repairm–person here?”

“Eh.” You shrug, glancing at the beaded doorway to the back room. “If business ever picked up maybe it’d be worth hiring more.” Glance back to her, smile again. “For now, I’m it yeah. I don’t usually bother with – with um, the front entrance.”

“Well, if you ever need something from me, sweetie, you let old Marcie know, okay?”

You blink, not sure how to respond. She wasn’t this nice to Jane– ahem ‘Melissa Simone.’ “Uh. Y–yeah, sure. Thanks.” You cough. “Um… Ms. Simone gave you the – the rundown about the back right?”

Marcie looks at you, arching a skeptical eyebrow. “To stay the hell out? Yeah.” She leans in, “So… what are we fronting here sweetheart? Drugs? It’s drugs isn’t it.” She straightens her back with a dramatic sigh. “It’s always drugs.”

“I – what???” You stare at her. “W–we’re not – not ‘fronting’ anything!?”

She frowns. Is she… disappointed…!? “Oh? Really? Well. A job’s a job, I guess.”

“I… I just have a… very particular system. Okay?” You shove your hands into your pockets, looking away from her. Stare at the posters on the wall.

“Ah. You’re one of those.” One of those what? You can’t pick it up from her thoughts, just the sliding of her changing expectations. “Well, I’ll keep out of your hair, sweetie.” She steps aside, “It was nice to meet you Ariadne, dear.”

You walk past her in a daze. Push through the bed curtain into your ‘workshop.’ A central table has a pile of half-deconstructed computer cases, their silicon guts scattered haphazardly. A tool kit hangs from the wall alongside a clear plastic cabinet of replacement parts.

Hopefully the facade holds up. You don’t have much intention of actually doing computer repair work here. It’s more than a little concerning that Marcie of all people immediately jumped to the ‘criminal front’ explanation. Was hiring her a mistake? She doesn’t seem to actually care. Maybe you should go out of your way now and then to drum up business. Put some effort into looking legit.

Aside from the bathroom and breakroom, there’s one more room. Your actual workshop. The shop technically is built onto the side of an old warehouse. You’ve walled off most of the space, installed a hidden door, just inside next to the back door out.

You didn’t use up the entire warehouse. Just walled off a decent sized chunk. The rest has been dressed up. Mostly shelves of boxes full of bricks. Something that’ll pass at least cursory inspection.

The door slides open to your touch, keyed to your fingerprint. It springs back into place as you step past. The lights flicker on at low-power. Now here is where you can finally start to get shit done. Your armor is mounted to a secondary hidden compartment recessed into the far wall, next to a bed in case you need to crash or puppeteer Jane for a bit.

You’re particularly proud of the hiding place you’ve created for the Rat-King; an oversized lava lamp sits on the bedside table, a soft blue glow filling the room. Even if anyone breaks in here, anything of value will still be hidden. You’re not completely stupid.

One corner of the room is taken up by a bank of screens and a computer terminal. A system of motion detectors, CCTV, and trip alarms have been carefully set up over the past month in a two block radius around the shop. Nothing is coming near here without you getting some kind of record of it.

And then, last but not least, against one wall a full-length table stretches underneath a pristine corkboard.

Not pristine for long… You reach back into your pocket and pull out a wad of folded up, blood stained papers. The only thing you were able to salvage from the Marconi fiasco. Could have just pinned this while you were setting everything up, you guess.

But this feels more dramatic.

You grab a pin from the cork board and smooth out the creases with your other hand. Jam the paper to the middle of the board. A bill of sale for something called a ‘Regenerator.’ You don’t recognize the name of the buyer, but the listed seller is the personal assistant to Mayor Alvarez.

You pin a scattering of related articles next to the receipt, your prize from today’s factory theft. They’re all related to the sudden government take-over and closure of the regenerator’s parent company, PharmaCore.

What exactly is going on here; you have no idea. But it’s shady as shit, and that means it’s a point of attack. If you’re going to crack the damn city open, this is your starting point. You grab a pen and paper as you sit down at the desk.

You hum a tune under your breath as you work. Time to start planning out your next moves.

[jinmukangwrites]

Maybe it’s weird to ask you that and I am sorry, but what do you do when you don’t like your writing, are unsure about what you wrote or sometimes even compare yourself with others?

Listen. There are always going to be times where you look at your writing and you just think this isn't enough. There's always going to be times where you see someone else's writing and question how you can ever be as good as them, or you wonder why a fic you posted isn't doing well while someone else's is rocketing with popularity.

No matter how skilled you are, or how long you've been writing, this probably isn't going to go away. It certainly hasn't for me.

But the thing is, these feelings are not bad. They are good. They don't feel very good, especially in the moment, but they can one hundred percent make you a better author.

Instead of feeling bad and feeling like you're going nowhere, you need to look at what you wrote and figure out what you don't like about it. Is it the pacing? Is it the characters? Is it the beginning or middle or end? Is it that a certain conversation feels off? Or a chunk of dialogue doesn't feel like it should be there? Does it feel like it's dragging? Maybe too choppy? Is the description feeling lazy? Do you think your focusing on a mediocre detail for too long?

What is it you don't like? Because you are your number one reader and you have full rights to pick your writing apart and decide what's bad and what can stay. For now, you are writing for you. Unless you're writing live for an audience your writing is being read by you and only you. You HAVE to write something you enjoy and you like and something you can be proud of before you upload it, that's when the writing becomes someone else's.

After you find what about your own writing you don't like, then make a note of it and rewrite it. Keep what you like, and then just rewrite. The first drafts I find are what gets uploaded first when it comes to fan fiction. I can promise you that most fan fic that's upload is the first draft. The author wrote those and decided it's good enough. First drafts aren't supposed to be like that. Yes, there are plenty of times where the first thing you write is the thing you like the most and it's totally okay to post that. But if you don't like the thing you wrote, it's not a bad thing to try again. The process of writing is long and hard and it's totally okay to scrap and try again. Don't feel bad if it takes weeks or even months to get something how you like it.

Now, when it comes to comparing yourself, that doesn't have to be bad either when it comes to writing. My whole writing style was me saying "I don't like how I write but I like how [x] and [x] write so I'm gonna take things that I like from their work and try it out."

My present tense third person writing style is inspired by a Tumblr user I've been reading the world's of for the past few years. I used to write in past tense and I felt stuck. I hated my writing. The best example of this is probably reading my Ruin's series and seeing how I used to write and just how... stuck it felt. Grace was the first thing I've really tried to do in the other style and as you can see, I don't feel as stuck anymore.

Do you like how the author describes pain? Confusion? Happiness? Do you like how they describe action or characters? Do you like their pacing? The words they use?

What do you like about this author that you are convinced are so much better than you?

Do you know? Okay, now how can you copy them. I did this a lot in my early stages. Once example that sticks out to me is a simple scene in my first ever fic that probably won't seem big but it was to me at the time. My mc was in a labyrinth and was lost and couldn't find her way, she panicked and decided to just run. Just go.

I didn't know how to describe her though process at the time but then I stumbled upon another fic who's character was lost in a mine and how they described it stuck out to me.

Right. Right. Another right. Left. Up. Down- no wait up. Left? No- can't breathe-

That was it. I've never thought about it. I loved it. I used it. It was a simple change to how I tell a character's thought process while panicked but it's stuck with me all the way into my current writing style.

Like my queen Ariana Grande, you see it. You like it. You want it. You got it.

Take it. Get inspired about it. Use jealousy and shove it in a blender and get inspiration out of it.

And remember, we're all in this as a hobby. No one is getting money out of this. Some of these authors have no desire to write for money, they've just been doing it for years and it's a fun pass-time. Some are taking fic writing so seriously because they're using as practice for their orriginal works. Don't push yourself. Go at your own pace. If you feel so far behind just know that with some practice and deturmination you can surpass them. Do better. It's not a competition, it's a game.

Jealousy and not feeling good enough and not liking my own writing was the entire point of my Grace trilogy. It was a thing for me to look back on, especially after Graceful. You can visibly see my growth as an author I'm those three fics. Or at least I can. And I love it that way.

Keep going. I believe in you. Don't make writing out to be a job, or a competition, because it won't be fun that way. Just tell a story, and if you don't like it then retell it and make it better.

[crossroadsimagine]

☰ Match up Request Process

✽ First Let me warn you that this explanation is going to be long because I thought if I was going to explain the process of how I do match ups I might as well be detailed about it.

So since there was an interest in seeing my process of writing and putting match ups together, I figured I'll use my latest match up as an example. (Don’t see why they would but hopefully they don’t mind me using them as an example.)

✽ First check out this Match up, because if it’s YOUR match up I don’t want to spoil things if you haven’t seen it yet. Plus this way you can look at it and know the process and finished result.

☰ Step 1: Put Info together

First I put all the parts of a match up request together which is why it's important for people to number and mark their request parts with a number and name or emoji. 

Once the parts are together I separate description info from what they want and what's now unimportant info.

I highlighted in blue what I'll get rid of cause it's not description info, I highlighted in pink what they want from the match up. and what's not highlighted is the description info I'll use.

☰ Step 2: Analyze Info and narrow down fandoms & characters

I then read over and over the info to focus in on possible matches and then narrow them down to 3 characters. Which means if the person has suggested more than 3 fandoms I narrow down the fandoms and characters of each to where the person would be more compatible in my opinion. In this case I settled on Death Note, Black Butler and Supernatural and ruled out Tokyo Ghoul.

(This doesn't mean I don't think the person could be compatible with a character from Tokyo Ghoul, but just that I think they would be more compatible with characters from the other fandoms.)

At this point I have the info for the match up spaced out and laid out something like this, for it’s easier to read through.

☰ Step 3: Narrow down Matches more

Now focusing on 3 fandoms I come up with all possible characters from these fandoms that I think they could be compatible with and begin listing them off, which can be pretty broad at first depending on the series because I generally consider all characters in a series (Main characters and Minor characters), but usually I can narrow it down to about 10 like so.

●Sam ●Light ●Dean ●Mello ●Knox ●Lau ●Sebastian ●Undertaker ●Benny ●L

☰ Step 4: Re-Analyze and narrow down more

I then go over their info again and start ruling out characters until I'm down to 3 characters one from each series. 

In this case I ended up narrowed down to Sam, Sebastian and L.

☰ Step 5: Re-Analyze and put matches in order

I then go over the info again to determine which of the 3 I believe is the best match.

and in this case I found them to be in order Sam, L and Sebastian. I then put them in my Match Up layout.

And I break the match up down in 3 parts The Description, the headcanons and the other possible matches.

☰ Step 6: Writing Other possible matches

Next I focus on writing the description for Other possible Matches first which is L and Sebastian and try to include 

● why they are a good match and sometimes I may add a few negatives of why it's not perfect but not always

Now you might wonder why I chose Sam to be the main match rather than the other two, same with other matches why I chose the character I did for the main match rather than the other two. And it comes down to the info you provide even the smallest of details.

● Some Examples: if one character would have more time to spend with you than the others, If one character would be more understanding towards your past or unique traits than others or if one character is more relaxed and less excitable or loud than the others, or many other factors.

It's also important to note that I look at ALL your information and what would be good for you, such as if I feel like you would need or be happier with someone more affectionate, quiet, open minded, understanding, supportive or someone more energetic, encouraging, loud, challenging etc. 

I do not just match you to a character who has the same hobbies or interests as you. Or match you with a character with the same personality or the opposite personality I look much deeper than that.

As for how much info I give for the Other Possible Matches I generally try to write somewhere between 150 and 200 words. Though I don't stick too strict to a certain word count for them, just whenever it seems like enough and feels right.

☰ Step 7: Write the Headcanons between you and the match

Next I focus on writing the headcanons, I know, I pretty much write the parts of a match up completely backwards and write from the bottom up, but it's just what works better for me in my opinion. Because by the time I get to the description part I've spent a lot of time thinking of info and reasons why you and the character are a good match and how the two of you would likely interact.

Generally with headcanons for match ups I try to include some basic info of the relationship.

● How they may treat you, 

● How they react to your hobbies or interests, 

● If they are affectionate, if they like PDA, how they may cuddle with you or tendencies they have when being affectionate.

● If they get jealous, how protective they are

● Things they may do for you. 

Things like that, depends on the info you give me.

☰ Step 8: Re-Analyze info and write Description

Finally I get around to writing the big chunk of a match up and what all this contains REALLY depends on what information you give me and what kind of details as well as how much information you give me. 

● For example if you only give me 1 ask worth of info like a small paragraph of info your match up is likely to be shorter and less in-depth.

I try to include in the description:

● How he first responds to you when first meeting 

● If it's a love at first sight or if it takes more time to fall for you, 

● How they go about asking you out. 

● How the two of you get along, how the relationship works, how they treat you and the relationship in general.

Generally for this section of a match up I try to write at least 500 words of information about the relationship, but again length depends on the info you give me. Often times most match up descriptions end up being somewhere between 500 and 1000 words long and sometimes even closer to 1500. Again depending on the info I'm given.

Chances are if this part of your match up is close to 1000 words long you did a good job at giving me useful info, if this part of your match up is closer to 1500 words than you did an awesome job at giving me useful info.

☰ Step 9: Revise and post

Finally I put all this info into a post on tumblr where I usually post it in response to the 1st part of the match up ask, I usually add a pictures or gifs through out the match up to show your match up character and other possible matches. 

I try to revise for possible errors (Though sometimes I’m in a hurry and skip this until later) in the writing and add spaces to make things easier to read and post it.

➤ Completed it looks like this

❀ Over all I guess that’s really it.

Often times I never hear back about a match up, whether they liked it or not. Maybe 1 out of 15 I’ll get a thank you or feedback on if they enjoyed their match up.♥ But really Match ups are one of my favorite things to write! Because when I do get feedback people generally seem very happy with them. Which makes me happy.

[remalynn-runesworn-blog]

LFC: Remy Runesworn

the basics ––– –

NAME: Remalynn Runesworn NICKNAME(S): Remy (commonly & preferred), Ema (by her brother, usually), Lynn (rarely) AGE: Young Adult BIRTHDAY: December 8th || Sagittarius || RACE: Sin'dorei GENDER: Female SEXUALITY: Bisexual RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single

physical appearance ––– –

HAIR: Flaxen in color, framing her face in soft waves that flow to the middle of her back. It is usually kept down to bounce around in a tousled mane of braids and beads. Sometimes, it’s seen in a large, messy braid or bun, adorned with a multitude of flowers and or "trinkets."  

EYES: Having been graced with heterochromia, Remy's left eye is liquid gold in color, while her right eye is an emerald green. To some, it is quite shocking upon meeting her. To others, nothing too peculiar.

HEIGHT: A reasonable 5'5"!

BUILD: Willowy, at best. She is no curvaceous vixen by any means, although her waist is slim, her hips a little wider. It is easy to tell that she doesn't sling a weapon of any sort, being quite the bookworm. Her arms are long, along with her legs that lead up to a pair of sturdy thighs. The mage is best known for running rather than brute strength.

DISTINGUISHING MARKS: Besides Rem's eyes, there isn't really anything that would cause you to distinguish or pick her out amidst a crowd! She doesn't have any large scars (yet, despite her being a klutz), nor does she have any tattoos (double yet).

COMMON ACCESSORIES: Around the Sin'dorei's neck is home to a banged-up, silver locket. It stays there, tucked beneath her shirt, at all times. It's easy to see that it must hold some sort of personal value, coin-wise it may be a couple copper, if that, due to all the damage. Her left ear has a multitude of stud and hoop earrings all along it; her right has one hoop towards the top and a dangling trinket of sorts hanging from the lobe. Either hanging off her shirt or in her pocket is a pair of thin-wired, flimsy-looking glasses. She keeps them on her at all times, not being able to read without them.

personal ––– –

PROFESSION: She travels around with her brother, so she doesn't really have much of a "profession."  Although! She has taken up tailoring, being the most painfully novice seamstress of them all. Despite it, she still tends to ask people to take their measurements and practices different sizes of clothing often. Besides that, she can whip you up a pretty mean mana bun!

HOBBIES: Reading/Studying, practicing her "work," adventuring, listening to tales told by the locals LANGUAGES: Thalassian, Orcish, Common (enough to get by, possibly), Wanting to Learn More! RESIDENCE: Nomad, at the moment. BIRTHPLACE: Silvermoon City RELIGION: The Light FEARS: Confinement, Ending Up Alone, Letting Others Down -- also Spiders, can’t forget the spiders.

relationships ––– -

PARENTS: Kan'lios Runesworn (father - deceased) || Mirlana Sunveil (mother - alive) SIBLING(S): Elrodanis Runesworn (brother • eldest - alive) || Nazia Runesworn (sister • youngest - alive) OTHER RELATIVES: Not any that her parents had her or her siblings around often. ACQUAINTANCES: Too many to name! Mainly those she's encountered throughout her travels that she'd like to call friends, 'though her brother is quick to tell her that: "You cannot be friends with someone you've only spoken to once or twice." PETS: • Gin  • A thin, black cat that has a large chunk of his right ear missing. Those sensitive enough to magic could feel arcane vibrating from the creature heavily. Remalynn found him not long after he had passed. Attempting to dabble in necromancy, she tried saving the little guy. Inevitably, it “worked.” Worked, as in, she accidentally filled him full of arcane energy and somehow managed to embody some of her personality in him. Since, he has taken on quite his own personality and can actually talk! His name, funnily enough, came from Elrodanis having heard him speak for the first time one night after tipping the bottle a little too much. His words were: “Oh shit, this gin is really getting to me, Ema -- I just heard the bastard talk!” 

traits ––– -

extroverted / introverted / in between disorganized / organized / in between close minded / open-minded / in between calm / anxious / in between disagreeable / agreeable / in between cautious / reckless / in between patient / impatient / in between outspoken / reserved / in between leader / follower / in between [EMPATH]ETIC / unemphatic / in between optimistic / pessimistic / in between traditional / modern / in between hard-working / lazy / in between cultured / un-cultured / in between loyal / disloyal / in between faithful / unfaithful / in between

additional information ––– –

SMOKING HABIT: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess. DRUGS: never / sometimes /frequently / to excess. ALCOHOL: never / sometimes / frequently / to excess.

RP Hooks ––– –

• Remy and her brother have traveled around many parts of Kalimdor, and the upper parts of the Eastern Kingdoms. Perhaps you've seen them around? Eros lingers around taverns, and Rem tends to stick by merchants and such in whatever town/city they're in talking.

• When she was younger, she was seen around Silvermoon often. Her mother was (still is) a well-known seamstress and priestess, dragging Remy along with her into the city when she had things to attend to. Maybe she was with her mother when she healed your ill father? Maybe her mother made yours a beautiful gown?

• Her father was a fairly well-known Agent of the Kirin Tor. When he had business in Dalaran, sometimes he'd bring Rem along if she bugged him about it long enough.

• Remy has, surprisingly, started tailoring a bit herself! She's always looking for people whom are willing to let her take measurements and make a shirt, pants, etc. for them so she can practice! Has she made something for you before? How crappy was it? Be honest!

• She, grudgingly, helps her brother with bounties to make coin, as well as other odd jobs. Maybe you've hired them? Seen them chasing after someone? Anything's possible.

• All-in-all, Remalynn is a pretty social butterfly once she's observed a situation. If you've seen her, she's most likely seen you and has said something to start a conversation.

OOC notes // WHAT I'M LOOKING FOR ––– –

• I am over the age of 21 and not comfortable RPing with minors -- I'm sorry!

• Looking for long-term RP partners and story-lines! If you have any ideas for character connections, plots, etc. please feel free to message me!! ^-^

• This character is cross-faction heavy! Message me for my Discord, or we can plan to meet up in game, if you'd like!

[rpgmgames]

November’s Featured Game: Shooty and the Catfish

DEVELOPER(S): Daniel ENGINE: RPGMaker MV GENRE: Adventure, RPG WARNINGS: Course Language, Gore SUMMARY: Shooty and the Zaat are a dynamic duo solving monstrous mysteries!

Play the demo here!

Our Interview With The Dev Team Below The Cut!

Introduce yourself! Sure! So my name is Daniel, I guess technically I am an animator. I started out making flash cartoons around 2000 just for fun and became a professional animator in the advertising space around 2007. I have been working in media ever since, both in studios and as a contractor working under the Visitors From Dreams label which is also the label I use for my game development. I started dabbling with RPG Maker in around 2002 but I never got very far. Once I got into the media industry I wanted to pick it up again but with Mac being what almost all my work was done on, at home and in studio I didnt get the chance to actually get into it properly again until MV released, infact I was so excited that I purchased MV the day it dropped and immediately begun development on my first title Flatwoods. Ironically Shooty and the Catfish was developed on a PC, but I digress.

What is your project about? What inspired you to create your game initially? *Daniel: Shooty and the Catfish is set up pretty simply. The 2 lead characters, Shooty and Zaat run a sort of monster investigation unit out of their home. They get calls to different desitinations to deal with different monster problems. I really wanted it to feel like it was set up in a similar way to a lot of cartoons from the 80s, where every episode had a pretty similar but still managed to feel like a little self contained adventure. I have thrown in some little elements of an larger narrative but they are light until the final episode. Originally the series was pitched to Frederator for Cartoon Hangover, it got a little ways into early development but then Youtube changed its algorythm and animation on the platform became a struggle and the project was dropped. I didnt want to waste all the work I had done on the concepts and so I eventually tried to find a way to work them into a game, its taken me quite a few years to get as far as I have with development, but I would be even further back if I had tried to animate it all alone. I created Flatwoods to try and get a small project out, you know, to get some experience with the engine, little did I know how much more I had to learn!

How long have you been working on your project? *Daniel: I pitched Shooty and the Catfish back in 2013 from memory, but it didn't start to take shape as the project you currently see until the last 12 months. In that sense I am incredibly happy with how quickly the game has come together.

Did any other games or media influence aspects of your project? *Daniel: So many things have influenced my work its not funny... Where do I even start? Shooty and Zaat have a bit of a Finn and Jake thing going since when the project was originally pitched to Frederator and thats what they were looking for at the time. Resident Evil 4 (the closest any game has ever come to perfection imo) was the inspiration for the games ammo based combat system. Demons Souls originally derailed the project when I tried to emulate its non linear hub based design (you will notice the demo takes place on a single island instead), that created all kinds of balancing issues though so thats all been stripped back and is what lead to the decision to make the game episodic instead. One element from Demons Souls that remains in the game is a diverse mix of linear and looping level designs when it comes to mapping. The game also features towns that have layouts based on unused maps from the Pokemon GS 97 Spaceworld demo since they never made it into any of the actual games in the series. Pokemon GS also influenced the games visuals. I'm not a big RPG guy, but I played a hell of a lot of Pokemon growing up and Gen 2 is still my favorite. Trying to get MV to emulate the limitations of the Game Boy Color was quite the hurdle, I still cant believe I got it working as well as it is. I also have a lot of cameos from other peoples RPGM games, so there's that. Its a big ol' mixing pot of ideas and inspirations.

Have you come across any challenges during development? How have you overcome or worked around them? *Daniel: Countless, the biggest challenge is always scope though. I originally wanted the game to be like 3 hours long tops, now its well in excess of that and that's before I have even put in meaningful NPC interactions. That's why I have decided to break the game up into episodes, each one should be around an hour which is much more my jam. I don't have a lot of free time so I tend to gravitate towards games that are tight and short, I think that's why I am so determined to keep this game in nice manageable chunks. Now that the game is shorter I don't need levelling so I am starting to tone down the RPG elements. One change always leads to another, but episode one is getting damn close to completion. I say this before I have even had the chance to announce the game's going to be episode on my own blog, ha ha. Episode 1 January, The Great Spore Chore! Keep your eyes out for it!

Have any aspects of your project changed over time? How does your current project differ from your initial concept? *Daniel: As mentioned above a lot has changed, I feel the biggest change was when I tried to move the game from being episodic into one adventure after playing through a bunch of other RPGM games for ideas, it all started to feel a bit aimless and the storytelling techniques I had planned when it was episodic weren't translating well as the game progressed. So I guess now the game is episodic again we have come full circle! So many ideas seemed good on paper but ended up not really being fun or adding anything in practice. Oh yeah, and the transition from Game Boy green to color was a big one based on feedback from the demo. Some people were finding it hard to tell what elements were interactable, doors in particular, I hope that color has helped minimize that issue. Key items will also have an animation on them so they are hard to miss. I'm not a fan of hunting for items in big maps, it's certainly not something I want to subject people too in my own projects.

What was your team like at the beginning? How did people join the team? If you don’t have a team, do you wish you had one or do you prefer working alone? *Daniel: This project has had a few key people involved. Outside of myself I have worked with 2 musicians. One is an old school friend who did music for my animations back in the early 2000's. He has contributed a bunch of really cool EDM which makes up most of the games OST. On top of that there is also a number of optional bosses (one per episode) that have music composed by Secret Agent Ape who worked on Soma Spirits and a bunch of other upcoming games. I have been really lucky to get to work with such rad dudes.

What is the best part of developing the game? *Daniel: I love designing enemy battlers, my process usually involves me drawing a weird shape, sticking some eyes and a big goofy nose on it and trying to come up with a stupid pun to use for a name while listening to bands like Yes or Klaatu. It's bliss. I have a lot of people ask me why I have limited myself in terms of resolution and color palette, and it comes down to one of the important things I told myself when I got into game making as a hobby was that I would stop if it ever started to feel like work. I spend my days doing heavy visual effects and compositing, sometimes doing complex character animation. I want to keep that stuff as far away from my game development as possible. Ironically working within the incredibly restrictive limitations of the Game Boy has ended up being incredibly liberating and keeps things feeling fun as opposed to feeling like more of what I do all day to pay the bills.

Do you find yourself playing other RPG Maker games to see what you can do with the engine, or do you prefer to do your own thing? *Daniel: I always enjoy checking out demo's of upcoming games. Both Heartbeat and Virgo and the Zodiac's demos blew me away from a technical standpoint on the MV front. I still find it hard to believe those demos were made with the same engine I'm using. I guess it really shows what can be done when the engine is in capable hands. I wish I had more time to play actual full releases, I mean Jimmy and the Pulsating Mass just came out and I have no idea when, if ever I will have the free time to play it because its such a commitment. I feel like I am missing out on some great stuff.

Which character in your game do you relate to the most and why? (Alternatively: Who is your favorite character and why?) *Daniel: I guess I relate to different characters in different ways. Slim Grim is the one who hands out assignments to Shooty and Zaat, he is pretty much done with life, over people and the world itself, I think thats something we all have a bit of inside of us. Shooty is a very positive individual, his solutions to most problems is a bullet with a smile, and I think theres a bit of that in all of us as well. Zaats a bit of a cheeky smart arse, so I guess in a lot of ways I am most like her as a person. One of the episodes also features Gerkinman who is and has been a sort of self insert in my work since 2001 so I guess technically I relate to him most... ha ha, but thats cheating!

Looking back now, is there anything that regret/wish you had done differently? *Daniel: I wish I had done a better job keeping the project focused. I feel like a good few months were spent making the game bigger in ways it didnt need to be.

Once you finish your project, do you plan to explore the game’s universe and characters further in subsequent projects, or leave it as-is? *Daniel: All of my games are loosely connected, taking place in the same world. None of them tie directly into each other, im not big on the cinematic universe concept that seems so popular right now, but events in my previous 2 releases and the 5 planned episodes of Shooty and the Catfish are loosely connected in ways people who take the time to look can find. They are also tied into around 17 years worth of animated shorts I have released. I have no plans on stopping now!

What do you look most forward to upon/after release? *Daniel: Well, theres quite a few things... Mapping for all 5 episodes (outside of towns) is complete, so when Episode 1 is done I will be immediately rolling into Episode 2. I am aiming to have an episode out every 2 months which should be doable with so much of the game already finished. I also have a couple of short films I am looking forward to being able to invest some time into, things have slowed down in recent months due to freelance but I am eager to get to animate some of my own work again. I am also eager to see the comments sections on Lets Plays. Both Flatwoods and Hazmat got a bit of Lets Play action and a couple of those have some pretty substantial comment sections. The amount of theories people try to put together for these projects is staggering. I could never write something as entertaining as what the speculations in these comment sections contain in terms of what my games mean, it cracks me up and I find it quite flattering that random people have put more thought into elements of my stories then I have. Makes me want to keep things deliberately vague just to encourage more of it. Lastly I will be releasing all the build files for the project so if anyone wants to make fangames or whatever they have direct access to all of the core files used to build the games. Im a big fan of the concept of a mod community, and while RPGM doesnt exactly allow for that, id love to see people do similar things to my work as whats been done with a lot of LISA fan games.

Is there something you’re afraid of concerning the development or the release of your game? *Daniel: I don't know about being afraid exactly. I am curious about how my business model for the episodic releases will go over. I was planning on releasing them at $1 an episode and $4 for the bundle when it's all complete. I know some people think thats still charging too much, but some people have also told me im not charging enough and that it lowers price standards accross the board for RPGM content. The way I see it if I can cover the costs of Steam and the music I commissioned then I've done alright since this project was for fun, but that's just me.

Do you have any advice for upcoming devs? *Daniel: Just keep at it and set yourself small goals. If your working on a big project break it up into manageable sections. Take things one map at a time, ya know what I mean?

Question from last month's featured dev @overcast-rpg: If you could choose an RPG Maker gamedev to release another game; which one would you choose and why? *Daniel: Oh that's an easy one, The Catamites. I love Space Funeral, it's easily my favorite game made in the engine, and while The Catamites has developed countless games since its release, they have all been in other engines. It would be fun to see them return to the engine after all they have learned about game design since Space Funeral's release and to see what they would do.

We mods would like to thank Daniel for agreeing to our interview! We believe that featuring the developer and their creative process is just as important as featuring the final product. Hopefully this Q&A segment has been an entertaining and insightful experience for everyone involved!

Remember to check out Shooty and the Catfish if you haven’t already! See you next month! 

- Mods Gold & Platinum

[resbang-bookclub]

AMA TRANSCRIPT: Fake News!

In our first AMA of the season, @trueeasiann answered questions about her Resbang, Fake News! Read all the insider info below!

Q: First of all, because I’m always curious about what inspired stuff, what gave you the idea to write this resbang and put it in an office setting?

Whinnie: Hmm that's a good question lmao. I know there are quite a few soma office AUs out there but they seemed very 'corporate' and I wanted to explore an office environment that's a little more different? Also, I’m very biased but I work in tech LMAO... and I wanted to share some of the fun(ny) experiences I’ve had with my coworkers!

Q: By any chance... was a real experience playing ping pong with a coworker? I was very amused at Patty whooping Blackstar ahaha

Whinnie: Lmao yes I love working in tech! I've had the honour of getting the chance to work in both a smaller startup environment and a larger corporation, and the startup experience is just so much better because it's more flexible, less redundant, and I find you have more freedom to get things done. The dialogue during the ping pong isn't exact but yes, my friends at work do play a lot of ping pong and there is a lot of smack talking and I have one friend who randomly yells out from time to time while playing (or talking in general lmao) and he really reminds me of Blackstar HAHA.

Q: Did you have a favorite scene or scenes to write?

Whinnie: I really enjoyed writing the ramen scene, where Soul and Maka first get to really know each other outside of work. The dialogue came really easy to me for that, but I also enjoyed writing the coffee shop conversation between Black Star and Maka. Re-reading that scene now gives me a laugh at all the ridiculous stuff I made BS say lmao.

Q: I really enjoyed the sorta sibling vibes that Maka and Star convos had. He is always so extra.

Whinnie: I know it's kind of an overdone trope, to make Maka and BlackStar childhood friends or friends that know each other from way back (in this case, from college), but I feel like that's the only reason Maka puts up with him HAHA.

Q: You mentioned in your footnote at the end that this was your first fandom event. did the event schedule affect your usual writing habits at all, or your process for how you put it all together?

Whinnie: Well, before this, I hadn't written for like 4 or 5 years LOL. So I didn't really have any writing habits that were affected? But this was my first time writing on a deadline, and my first time writing a full multi-chapter story (as I like to stick to one-shots) so this was the first time where I started way "ahead" of time (I say ahead in quotations because my time of perception is really off lmao and I always end up starting stuff late anyway) this was also the first time where I was writing while juggling other things. I had my full-time job and also some other extracurriculars that I had to maintain. It's not as easy as writing in high school where you can just write all day LOL and not worry about putting dinner on the table or waking yourself on time the next morning for work. So I would do like work until 6 pm, come back and eat dinner, maybe catch up on some other things like messages, and then write until 3 or 4 or 5 in the morning lol because that was the only free time I had.

Question: When I read that footnote about writing in a car during your friend's wedding to make a deadline, I was floored!

Whinnie: LMFAOOOO yeah that was a wild time. so the wedding was actually one of my old coworker's and I got a ride with my other coworker and his GF. And when we arrived I was like "Ummmm I'm still not done so I'm gonna have to ask you something weird. Can you just lock me in the car and I'll come in like 10 mins?" LOOOL… But also part of it was my fault with, again, not budgeting enough time for myself. Like, I didn't start regularly working on my resbang until December. So for that whole month leading up to my posting date, I just didn't have a social life LMAO. And I also ended up taking the day before my posting date and my posting date itself off work because I knew I would stay up all night finishing it LOOOL. I also hope I never have to do that again LOOOL. It was really rough And I have a really bad habit from high school of staying up late and not getting enough sleep and so I kind of reverted back to that schedule… even now that resbang is done.

Q: Yeah, this sounds like it was a good learning experience at least! About your limits, how quickly you work, etc… And oh no, sounds like the habit tracker Soul and Maka did might be something to use!

Whinnie: YES, absolutely haha. I saw that while I was browsing Reddit and thought it was really cool, and I thought that if people are going to read my fic, I might as well offer them something useful as well haha.

Q: Did you know where you wanted the fic to go or did you kind of let it all happen as it went?

Whinnie: Hmmmm, well obviously Soul and Maka getting together was the end goal and I knew that I wanted to write it from Maka's POV (since I find that a lot of fics are written from Soul's or a mix of both), and that I wanted it to be relatable. So I thought it was plausible that both of them would bond over their shared imposter syndrome. And I did have an outline but it was very high level and vague, so I ended up adding more stuff. I also didn't want there to be any awkward jumps, like "wow one second she hated his guts and now she likes him?" so the granola bar scene, that wasn't what I originally intended on adding but it made more sense to have it before the ramen scene. I did want to add more to the ending like a scene of Soul and Maka just living life together after confessing to each other. But alas I didn't have enough time.

Q: I also really liked how you wrote Maka as bi! there seems to be a large chunk of fandom that writes her as Ace, so it was neat to see her thru another LGBTQ lens. did you always want to write her as bi, or did that come along after you'd started?

Whinnie: Thank you! Yes, I did notice that as well, and I can definitely see her as Ace and not interested in anything sexual at all -- or heck, even Demi (which I did write her as in my other recent fic.) But I was surprised that no one has written her as bi, or even in any serious yuri relationships let alone in a relationship with Tsugumi (especially since Tsugumi seems to really like and look up to Maka LOL) so I thought that would be interesting to explore. Especially since I also identify as bi.

Q: Do you have any other Soul Eater writing in the works?

Whinnie: Well I have some vague ideas, but not right now -- after resbang came the "resbangover" (resbang hangover) LMAO and I wanted to delve back into some of my other hobbies like music, so I've been taking a break from writing fic. But who knows, maybe I will write again soon... I do want to participate in Soul/Maka week!

Q: Congrats on completing your first resbang!

Whinnie: Thanks to everyone who's read the fic and left sweet words of encouragement!