#final draft serial number

[open-sketchbook]

Team Butterfly Forever! (WIP Web Novel)

Okay, now that I'm three chapters into writing it and I've got momentum behind me, I want to properly pitch my WIP writing project to people.

Team Butterfly Forever is a post-magical girl story. In 2004, a young girl named Eve got a magical necklace from a talking cat, transformed into the magnificent Butterfly Ward, met friends like her, fought evil, and defended San Francisco from the sinister Dark Queen. Evil defeated, city saved, happily ever after.

Now it's 2014, and Eve needs to get the Butterfly Knights back together. The only problem is, they're in absolutely no state; it turns out that having to fight evil when you're 14 makes for messed up 24 year olds. Eve will need every scrap of the power of love and (adult) friendship the save the world, and more importantly, save her friends. So cards on the table? This isn't actually Sailor Moon fanfiction, but it's not not Sailor Moon fanfiction. It is very much wearing its inspiration on its sleeve, and the serial numbers have been filed off primarily because I'm looking to do crimes with it.

I'll be up front; it starts in a pretty dark place. This is very much a story about growing up with trauma and what that does to you. But it's also a comedy, a story about healing, and in the finest tradition of magical girls, a story about pressing on anyway because your friends need you.

Also... every single character is queer. So there's that.

I'm currently writing it as fast as I can; there's no set update schedule, but I posted the first segment a month ago and I'm about 1/4th of the way through my projected length. The story has been fully planned ahead of time, so it won't get hung up on where to go next; I'm hoping to have it done around April, but if you start following now you'll be able to see it take shape and speculate along with other readers.

It is being posted on the Sufficient Velocity, an old-school, moderated forum for lovers of sci-fi, fanfic, and interactive fiction. It's a very queer friendly space, and I highly encourage you to check it out. It'll be exclusive there until I have a final print version; I want to add to this community I love instead of spreading this story out across many isolated spaces, and see discussion about it as it happens. You can also follow the story there to be alerted to updates, and there's tons of other fiction being written on the forum all the time!

If you want to see my other work, my forum signature has interactive and traditional fiction I've posted on the site going back to 2017, including first drafts of my previous novels Whispers from the Deep and Lieutenant Fusilier in the Farthest Reaches.

I hope you enjoy!

[bomberqueen17]

while i've got the file out

So the last bit of time when I was at the farm, I finally gave in to the pressure of @sassaffrassa's art and started reading the Queen's Thief series.

It's... It's great, I'm not as obsessed with it as some (the selective concealment of stuff that POV characters know but the reader can't Until The Reveal is... clever but rubs me the Wrong Way, not enough to throw me out of the book but enough that I do find myself resenting it, but totally understand how it works beautifully for other readers) but it is extremely, extremely ripe for fanfic, I allow that. And I found that it made me think about the fics of Ciri in Nilfgaard again. It certainly made me realize my error in not including any slaves in the Nilfgaard settings-- that's a big dynamic I missed an opportunity to include, but it's not a thing I like to think about and so I had mentally assigned it all to just be slaves working fields etc., which as anyone knows is like. Only a percentage of what societies that contain slavery actually use slaves for. There should have been enslaved people in the households, all through the society, and Ciri objecting to and wanting to change that could have been an entire underlying theme.

But it's not, because I had meant to write that story as a 5k oneshot, and also I'd entered it right out of Goblin Emperor fic-writing, and whatever that particular fictional society contains, it doesn't have any enslaved people. So I just hadn't thought of it.

Anyway, a digression, but-- it made me, on one exhausted evening, reread the next bits I was going to publish of Not A Crest, and then I still didn't feel like writing but I wanted to keep reading so I dipped into my extras/cut scenes/written ahead docs, and I found an entire a/u I'd come up with and wrote 5k of and then realized i couldn't possibly fit in anywhere.

But. It stands alone somewhat, and I could strip it out of this world and create a new backstory and file all the serial numbers off that too, and...

well now I have another book to write, so I've started a doc with the serial number transpositions in it, LOL.

Now that I'm done at the farm, I have December, January, and probably February without any major commitments. If only I can wrangle my ADHD-or-whatever into some kind of shape, I can hope to bang out at least rough drafts of a couple of these things, or at least enough of them to know whether there's anything to pursue. And, I hope, I can achieve some of my other personal goals around the same time as well. If only I could miraculously learn how to operate a to-do list and make/keep a schedule........

Behind the cut, I'm gonna summarize the a/u snippet and my plans for it. We'll see how this goes.

So this plot depends on Ciri's powers of teleportation and time manipulation, so it can't possibly be in the same continuity as the mammoths and the tall ships, but that means I have a ton of leeway in worldbuilding. It needs to be fantasy-ish but it could be sort of cyberpunk if I wanted. Really it could be just about anything, provided that not-Ciri (I've already renamed her Leila) can still uniquely manipulate time and space, and the mechanism of how she does that is unimportant. It should have a cost, of course, which will be part of the worldbuilding.

So the backstory would be that a larger kingdom/nation-state/whatever kind of polity gobbled up Leila's when she was a young teenager, and she spent her youth as a guerilla, fighting or fleeing and honing her survival skills. There was some larger existential threat, related to the as-yet-undone worldbuilding, but the reveal is that the larger polity attacked and absorbed its neighbors in order to fortify itself against a yet larger invading power-- could be another kingdom, could be like, space invaders, I really haven't decided yet.

Leila meanwhile has come into her powers finally, and has begun to be able to manipulate time and space. i'm going to give her a wise and powerful sorceress mentor, Yennefer-like; instead of Geralt she might have a sword tutor slash captain of the guard or something, an older man who loves and protects and teaches her. Undecided; don't know whether he's important for more than backstory.

And this is all backstory, mind. In this backstory, she finally comes to aid the armies of the polity she had been fighting against, to resist this greater existential threat/invader/whatever. And as part of that she's paired up with this universe's version of Morvran-- I've renamed him Corbin since it means Raven but I'm still open to changing my mind on that. Anyway he's got the important bits of Morvran-- he's both a hostage and a presumptive heir, far too young and far too responsible, a strange balance of overly powerful and completely vulnerable. And for the duration of the backstory, he is helping this mystical enemy-turned-ally (Leila) fight a desperate, scrambling battle using powers that none of them entirely fully understands.

And he has an underling, an aide-de-camp, a young woman who keeps track of things and isn't much of a fighter, and that's where Luliana comes in, and I think I'll keep her name since i made it up anyway. She's a relative of his perhaps, a little older than he is, but allowed to be close to him because she's so unimportant, and she's really his only friend. And she of course falls in love with Leila, who to everyone's surprise falls in love back. Corbin is secretly delighted with this.

The war is long and difficult and horrible things happen to everyone, but in the end they triumph. And Leila is brought back to Expansionist Polity, her own homeland being so thoroughly encompassed and destroyed there's no restoring it, and the leader (perhaps he was injured in the war? perhaps he was already dying? perhaps he's just a guy who wants to retire?) begs her to become his heir, which effectively deposes Corbin, who silently doesn't mind it. But the rest of the government does mind it, and insists she marry Corbin to give them stability. Corbin privately proposes that they have a paper marriage; he is not inclined that way himself, you see, and he would be delighted if Leila and Lu kept their relationship and just let him be nearby, the way they did in the war. Leila counter-offers; she'll stick around long enough to make everyone feel safe and happy, but then she and Lu will run off someplace to live in peace, and leave Corbin to rule and to marry whoever he actually likes. Corbin, too used to not letting on his feelings about anything, agrees to this. And so they all rule together for a year and a day or whatever, Leila gets a bunch of the reforms she'd wanted pushed through, they get along marvellously, and then Leila disappears mysteriously, as agreed.

She and Lu go off and live happily somewhere peaceful. She is unexpectedly bored, Lu is homesick and sad, and her sorceress mentor finally finds her and scolds her for running away. "Haven't I done enough?" Leila asks, and her mentor is like obviously not, but doesn't have anything to convince her with. Until a little later, when the sorceress comes back and tells Leila that Corbin is dead, assassinated. He could not in fact get by without her.

Leila uses her powers to go back, but arrives too late, finding Corbin's head on a spike and his hands nailed below. She notices his hand still has both their wedding ring and the ring she'd given him as an engagement gift on it. He was supposed to have moved on and found himself a better partner.

She musters the last of her power and jumps back a little farther, interrupting the assassination attack, but she is again too late; Corbin is mortally wounded. She sits with him as he dies, and with his last breath he admits that he has always loved her and never wanted her to leave. She needs to jump again, and doesn't have the power for it, but sucks the last of his life-force out to do it, which is unethical-- she also draws from his would-be assassins and the guards who betrayed him, knowing it's a terrible thing to do but will be largely erased by her abandoning this timeline. There'll be a cost and I'll worldbuild that in too, however it makes sense once I've written it.

And this is all still backstory, and the story begins as she arrives, just in time, to interrupt the attack and save Corbin's life, wounded but not mortally. But this time Corbin has some self-possession left, and he is still wearing her rings and apologizes for it and merely admits that he was relying on his enemies' remaining respect for and fear of her. We the audience have not seen Leila's two previous attempts and do not know what she knows.

(Yes, yes, I was complaining that the Queen's Thief series relies too much on this, but I admit I'm trying to figure out whose POV this is from, and I may well not use Leila's, in order to make it not dishonest to exclude this knowledge. We'll have to see what seems honest to me as I'm writing it.)

And the story goes from there, as she tries to restore his rule and tries to figure out which version of him is lying, the one who said he loved her with his last breath before she stole the rest, or the one who calmly, collectedly bled all over her and politely apologized for his inability to do as she had asked him to and find a different spouse.

Obviously I need more plot than that, but it will come to me, I'm pretty sure. But that's where I'm starting. As I've said before, I'm a pantser, and that means I can't outline the plot or I'll paralyze myself.

[synnamon-hearts]

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

Pairing: Ghostface!Josh Washington x Fem!Reader

Description: Staying home alone while there was a killer on the loose was a decision that would change your life forever—but you never would have imagined how...

Warnings: Mutual Pining, Dark Fluff, Angst, Talk Of Violence, Blood, Gore, Friends To Lovers, Suggestive Flirting, Implied Smut, Talk Of Mike Being A Creep, Extra Talk Of Characters' Death.

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: Ah, my very first Ghostface fic. It feels nice to finally fix this up and repost it. Josh was always perfect for the role. I mean, he already has that psychotic energy that goes so well with it. 😅 And I always loved this fic too much not to redo it. It's been sitting in my draft for awhile but it's finally done and ready to read! I hope you all enjoy it! 🖤 Oh! And if enough of you do like this fic, I may consider doing more spicy Ghostface!Josh fics in the future... 👀

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

I sat in my bedroom on a late Friday night, not doing anything but staring up at my ceiling in complete boredom. My parents didn't want to leave me home alone, but I insisted they go out. After all, it was their anniversary. Though I wanted them to have a good night and celebrate, I didn't really want to be home alone either. There had been a serial killer going around, taking out almost everybody I knew.

Even though the attacks hadn't been directly on me, I still had that grueling feeling that I could be next at any given time. My parents made me promise to keep all the doors and windows locked and stay inside while they were gone, and I had strongly intended to keep that promise.

So I decided to just stay in my room, laying in bed while counting the minutes. Time was going by slowly until I got a call—a call that would change my life forever in the most unexpected way. And I don't know why I chose to answer it, since it was from an unknown number, but something deep inside of me told me to press that green button on the screen.

"Hello?" I muttered simply after answering my phone and bringing it to my ear.

"Hello, (Y/N)." Said the voice of an unknown man on the other end. It was deep and dark—a voice I would definitely remember if I heard it before.

"Who is this?" I asked as I furrowed my brows in confusion. Though it was a very easy question, the man stayed silent for a few seconds. Deep, heavy breaths were the only thing heard on the other end of the line; until the man spoke again in a more sinister tone.

"The question isn't who am I–it's where am I?"

The beating of my heart rang through my ears as it's speed increased faster each second. I wasn't sure if it was just some sick prank or not, but I had a pretty damn good feeling about who it was. Still, I didn't want to accept the horrid truth—I didn't want to believe that it could be the man who had been slaughtering all of my friends.

"This isn't funny!" I shouted into my phone with anger in my tone. I tried to keep my voice strong—to not show how I really felt by letting my voice fall weak and crack. But it was hard not to. "Seriously, this better not be a fucking prank!"

"Oh, what's the matter, (Y/N)? Don't you wanna play with me?" His voice sounded mocking, teasing with a little hint of a laugh at the end of his words.

"N-No..." I whimpered, my voice being just barely above a faint whisper. Tears filled my eyes as I sat up in my bed, eyeing my bedroom door wearily while praying deep down that there was nobody in my house.

"Aw, too bad, little bird. We're going to play regardless of what you say. You won't regret it." He cooed mockingly, sounding as if he was trying to hold back another laugh as he spoke. "Here I come."

Within a matter of seconds, somebody began banging on my bedroom door. I screamed from astonishment and pure terror before scrambling off my bed to find something—anything that could be used as some sort of weapon.

The man continued to bang on my door for what felt like hours, but only turned out to be a couple of minutes. But to my surprise, he stopped... And then there was silence—unsettling silence.

I ended the call with the man—nearly dropping my phone several times due to how shaky my hands were—before attempting to dial 911. But as luck would have it, the screen turned black, and I quickly realized that I had forgotten to charge my phone.

It's crazy how one small, dumb mistake could have such a fatal consequence...

"(Y/N)?" The man sang from the other side of my door. "Come out, come out wherever you are!"

"Go away!" I cried out, clenching my phone in my hand as fear crippled my body. "I'm going to call the police!"

It was a lie, I know, but I thought that maybe a threat would be enough to get the psycho away from me, long enough for somebody to come find me.

"Oh, (Y/N)." The man chuckled darkly. "The police won't get here on time. And besides, don't you want to meet the man behind it all—the one who killed your little friends?"

I froze for a minute in complete shock and fear. This man—who had taken so much from me within the last month—was just outside my door. The chances of me getting away at this point were slim. So, if I wasn't going to survive, I might as well have found out who this monster really was. But maybe I'd be lucky and survive if I found a way to kill him first? Regardless, I needed to know who this man was...

"F-Fine..." I tried to make myself sound much more confident and tougher than I really was, but failed due to the way my voice cracked thanks to my anxiety. "Come in..."

I grabbed my alarm clock and fully prepared to whip it at his head the second he opened the door, but life had a different plan for me.

To my surprise, the man kicked my door open and there stood a tall figure, wearing an all-black cloak and a white ghost mask. The costume was frightening enough and made me feel quite uneasy, especially with how he cocked his head as he stared at my weak form like a curious puppy—though I knew the rabid beast that hid behind the innocent gesture. There I stood—like a complete fucking idiot—holding my alarm clock in my hand as I stared at this murderer with a look of pure horror on my face.

The man slowly approached me and with each step he took forward, I took one backwards until I hit the wall behind me. After what felt like a century, the killer was finally one foot away from me—the black eyes of the mask drinking me in as I coward in fear before him. But just when I thought it couldn't get any worse, my eyes lowered and focused on the bright crimson liquid that covered his hands and knife.

"W-Whose blood is that?" I asked with much hesitance in my voice. Though it was a question that I did not want an answer to, I figured it was pretty important; since I still had some friends that were still alive, and my family as well.

Without a single word, the man leaned in almost as if he was attempting to pin me between him and the wall. The only sound that could be heard was his breath behind the mask and my beating heart. But then—breaking the silence like a hammer smashing through glass—he chuckled lowly.

"It used to belong to your friend, Emily."

Though the man was wearing a mask, I could tell by the smug sound of his voice that he had a huge smirk plastered on his twisted face. It was at that moment, I felt my heart stop. Without even realizing, tears began to fall down my cheeks as I grieved the death of my friend.

"Oh, come on!" He scoffed. "Why are you shedding tears for that little bitch?! After all, I did kill her for you."

I froze up completely after hearing his words, like time itself had stopped to let the sudden news sink in. I was shocked, but it all made sense. Out of anybody in my friend group, I was never attacked by the killer. So he was killing my friends... For me... Only one question remained inside my mind:

"Why?"

It was the only thing I could think to say. I didn't understand why this psychopath—this murderer was doing all this awful stuff for me. The man only laughed and then, to my surprise; lifted his mask over his face, revealing his true identity.

I audibly gasped and it was as if the shock of who stood before me punched me right in the face. My heart sank and my body grew cold, as my mind refused to accept the truth. I just stood there, with tears in my eyes as the only thing that escaped my lips was a name: "Josh?"

Josh Washington—who I had known for years—stood in front of me with a twisted, psychotic grin on his face as his eyes stared down at me with a lot of excitement in them. They seemed almost gray now, compared to the light green that shone with kindness before. His hair was now disheveled too—strains of it hanging down into his eyes; I had never seen it messy like this before, since he always had it slick back and tidy around me. It definitely added to the psychotic look he had going now.

"Ta-da!" He cheered while he threw his arms up dramatically as if he revealed some positive surprise like a birthday party. "Surprised? Of course, you are! Do you know how many movies I watched to get this right? It was a lot. After all, that's how the best killers learn: watch a few movies, take a few notes; it was fun! And the look on your face now makes all that work even more worth it!"

I only continued to stare at him in silence as tears filled my eyes. He was one of the few friends who made it—other than Chris and Sam—but I had never suspected him to be a killer; it didn't feel real or right in any way. He was always so sweet and kind... It didn't make sense...

"W-Why?" I asked in a barely audible whisper. "Why did you do this?!"

He shook his head as if he expected me to know, while his smile only broadened as he did so. "I told you, (Y/N). I did it for you."

"But why?!" I cried out, raising my voice as I did so, my vocals now scratchy and damaged from my earlier cries. He seemed surprised by my sudden outburst and took a step back as his eyes widened from shock.

"(Y/N), I did it because those fuckers were jerks! They treated you like trash, talked shit about you behind your back, and tried to keep us apart!"

His motive shocked me and also unlocked some realization in my mind: he was right. They were mean to me and treated me like garbage. But killing them just seemed too far. Though... It also ignited another question in my mind.

"What the fuck do you mean by 'kept us apart'?" I asked as I furrowed my brows with confusion. I swore at that moment that if jealousy had been the reason for his murders, I would kill him myself just out of anger due to his stupidity.

He laughed again, but this time his expression held a look of disgust and anger.

"Those assholes kept telling you that I didn't want you—that I was even appalled by the idea of being with you—all over the simple fact that Jess had a crush on me. You call that being a friend?" He scoffed bitterly. "Not only that, but those bitches had sabotaged many of your other relationships, as well as bullied you into thinking you were not good enough for anybody."

I stayed silent, looking down at my feet as the tears finally fell down my cheeks. Merely seconds later, I felt a gentle gloved hand meet my cheek. He caressed it softly with his thumb, to carefully wipe my tears away.

"You don't have to listen to their abuse anymore; they are gone." He whispered softly. "And you don't have to worry about not being good enough anymore either. Do you know why?"

I shook my head as I sniffed quietly, unable to speak due to not fully trusting my voice to form words correctly.

"Because you're good enough for me." He murmured in the softest tone I had ever heard, only making me tear up more.

I slowly looked up to meet his gaze—his soft gaze of adoration. He smiled warmly as he continued to hold my cheek in his large hand. And for the first time ever, I felt truly loved.

"And I know Mike was being a pig with you, that's why I slaughtered him like one." He admitted proudly as his kind smile split open into a prideful, toothy grin. I couldn't help but giggle as I wiped a few more tears away from my other cheek.

"Yeah, despite being with Emily, he would never give up on me. He just didn't understand that I didn't feel that way for him." I admitted sadly.

"I mean, I don't blame the guy because you are a fucking goddess, but he would go a little too far with his attempts to 'woo' you."

"Woo?" I chuckled at his choice of words.

"You know what I mean." He rolled his eyes playfully. But once they gazed back down upon me, they had grown soft and loving again. "So, would you consider being the lover of a dangerous psychopath?"

I smiled warmly as I stared up at the man before asking, "Well, I don't know. Promise not to stab me?"

"Not with this knife." He gestured down at the bloody knife in his hand, while his voice dropped low and seductive as his lips turned up into a sexy half smile.

"Good answer." I chuckled before placing my hands on his cheeks and pulling his face down to mine for a sweet kiss. Then—after pulling away a minute later—I gazed into his eyes with a lot of love and warmth. "We'll get to that later."

He smiled and placed his lips back on mine, while holding me tightly in his arms. The kiss lingered for another good minute and lit a spark within me—a spark that told me that I was in love. Once we pulled away, he stared down at me lovingly.

"Seriously though, I promise to protect you at all costs and destroy anybody who threatens your safety." He declared in a warm tone as he brought his hands back up to caress my cheeks again, the soft fabric of the gloves drying my soaked cheeks.

"I know." I responded as I smiled happily before planting another warm kiss on his surprisingly soft lips. "And I'll do the same for you."

"Oh? Do I have myself a little partner in crime?" He teased and my sweet smile twisted into a more sinister one as I took his knife from his hand, gripping it firmly in my fist and moving it up to place the blade against his throat.

Though the sharp metal was nipping at his skin and painting the ridge deep crimson, he didn't seem to care. His lips stretched into a devilish and seemingly excited grin, as he gazed down at me with a look of adoration in his green orbs.

"Hey, we all go a little mad sometimes. And I may know of a few more people who need to be taught a fatal lesson." My voice grew darker and more evil as his smile broadened with pride for his new lover —me. "I just need to have a mentor by my side to guide my way."

"My lady," he spoke softly as he carefully took my small hand in his big one. "It would be an honor."

𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭~𖹭

[ripplestitchskein]

Some of you assholes are about to make me do an entire essay on writing structure, serialized fiction and like, fucking, the basic iterative creative process as it relates to HB.

Broad strokes though:

Pilot. 👏 Episodes 👏 Are 👏 Just 👏 Concepts 👏

Concepts are the INITIAL stage of the creative process. You may start with a character looking and behaving a certain way but by the time you get a final product they are completely fucking different. Or a story starts out in one direction in your early drafts but once you’ve really sat down and fleshed it out you realize you need to change it completely. This is why we have sketches, why we do drafts, why we do concept art. Every creative endeavor involves these steps. It’s rough -> refine -> refine -> refine -> finished product (or as finished as you can get with time/money/resource constraints).

That’s how every creative endeavor goes plus or minus some refinement steps. Things like money, time, and the number of people working on a project and tools available can change this math a bit but it’s ALWAYS the same basic principle. You start with a concept, you refine it over and over until it’s as close to done as you can make it. This can take a few days, this can take a few decades, but it still happens every time. Whether you SEE it or not.

Most of the time you don’t see the pilots of television shows. In major corporate productions all the behind the scenes growing pains happen before you lay your eyes on it. Examples we do have of true pilots often differ vastly from the end product and are usually released as special bonus material. Sometimes a show will call an episode the Pilot but there were versions of that pilot that got left on the cutting room floor. Before that there were character sketches, draft scripts, set designs, story breaking sessions etc that no one but the main creators see.

Independent productions, however, like Helluva Boss, like indie games, like web comics often don’t have the resources to go through that process without some transparency, they need to generate interest and capital. So they release concept art, pilots, Alpha versions and other pre-production materials to the public to get people to buy in and help them fund the project. That’s how they get it made.

The problem is some of you can’t seem to see past that rough draft.

Helluva Boss gave audiences the basic idea of the show with the Pilot. After they had secured interest and resources they could actually afford to flesh it out. And guess what? Like all creative cycles, shit changed. Characters changed. Designs changed. Stories changed. Then they released the first episodes, the final product, and those episodes said “Hey, this is what we landed on in terms of direction and this is the story we decided to tell. Here are the setups for what you’ll see going forward. Those set ups are:

“IMP is a business is hell specializing in the assasination of humans at the request of people already in Hell. There are four employees, Millie, Moxxie, Loona and the boss Blitzø. They accomplish this through the use of a grimoire that the title character (the boss) Blitzø is in possession of. He got this book from another character Stolas, they make a consensual sexual deal for use of the book. We have some indications of personality and characterization, financial struggles, but we’ll find out more in subsequent episodes.”

That’s episode 1. The first goddamn episode for the series.

Episode 2 is “Here is what we’ll actually be exploring through the course of this show beyond the broad premise you saw in episode 1: Blitzo’s relationship with Stolas. Stolas’s relationship with his family specifically his daughter and his failing marriage. Blitzo’s relationship with Millie and Moxxie. Blitzo’s relationship with his daughter. Blitzo’s issue with the Fizzarolli bot. Moxxie and Millie’s relationship dynamic.” All these things are setup and that is what the show is about. It’s what the show remains about, it’s what we’ve slowly been revealing and exploring.

So this whole “the show BECAME about Stolitz and Stolas is all sad owl now” is only an argument if all you saw and internalized was the rough draft. Because the actual FIRST. TWO. EPISODES. OF. THE. FINAL. PRODUCT. Very Explicitly layout what the show is going to be about and THATS WHAT ITS ABOUT. Blitzo’s relationships, including and very importantly his relationship with Stolas, Stolas’s relationships, and very importantly his relationship with Blitzø. Moxxie, Millie, Loona, Octavia and Stella are part of that. IMP is part of that but the central core of the show, as setup in the first two episodes are IMP, Blitzø, Stolas and the relationships that spiral off from those core things. And they have not changed, they have been expanded upon and revealed because….its a story, and that’s what happens in stories.

[yestolerancepro]

Tolerance Project extra a long time ago in a Galaxy far far away 

The final cut

Part 2 The Galatic toybox Star Wars in other media and the start of this world Toyline

Introduction

Hello there and welcome to chapter two of this revised blog that looks at the original Star Wars film from 1977

Part one looked at the making of Star Wars this chapter looks at Star Wars in other media from the books and the comics to the 1981 radio series and the out of this world toyline that started in 1978

Star Wars in other Media

Books and Comics

Star Wars From The Adventures Of Luke Skywalker Alan Dean Foster

Though initially credited to George Lucas, this Star Wars novelization was actually ghostwritten by sci-fi icon Alan Dean Foster, who wrote it based off the film’s shooting script and Xerox copies of artist Ralph McQuarrie’s pre-production paintings. Foster also spent a day in an Industrial Light And Magic screening room with Lucas and graphic designer Saul Bass, watching unedited, soundless footage of Tie Fighters zooming around and getting blown up.

From the Adventures of Luke Skywalker was published six months before the movie came out in May 1977, and it was panned by critics—but audiences loved it, and the book sold through its initial 500,000-print run by February, still three months before the film’s premiere. By the time the movie came out, another 3.5 million copies had been sold, making it one of the most successful novelizations of all time. (Foster was paid $7500 for the work—worth about $40,000 today

The novelization hits all the movie’s high points, but there are some fascinating differences (a lightsaber is described as a “gizmo” with “a number of jewel-like components built into both the handle and the disk,” for example) that give it a different type of feel from the film. It all adds more to the Star Wars universe, and some of details about certain planets, languages, history, and technology have since become canon for fans.

To go with the book that was in publication while George lucas was still making Star Wars the film was adapted into a a four part comic book series by Marvel Comics you can read about it by watching these 2 videos from Retro Marvel Man on Youtube click here

and here

1979 Storybook and Tape

in 1979 Star Wars was turned into a 24 page book and tape by the Disney company you can listen to that version by clicking here 

Radio

Just before Star Wars got a television Premiere in the UK it was adapted into a 13 part Radio series braodcast by NPR radio in the United states and BBC radio 1 in the UK.

It first aired in the US on March 2nd 1981 It was adapted by Brian Daley from the 1977 film, and directed by John Madden, with music by John Williams and sound design for Lucasfilm by Ben Burtt. The serial was recorded in 1981 at Westlake Recording Studios in West Hollywood, California.

Daley adapted the script partly using material from earlier drafts of Lucas's scripts, and restored several scenes cut from the final edit of the film, as well as adding original new scenes created specially for the audio version. The narrative of the first two episodes takes place entirely before the opening scene of the 1977 film, and expands the background to events leading up to the capture of the Tantive IV spacecraft above the planet Tatooine.

Episode 1, largely based on cut scenes from the original, explores the life of Luke Skywalker on Tatooine. During the story, Luke's skyhopper (a vehicle seen in the background in Luke's garage during the film) is damaged during a desert race; Luke sees the distant Star Destroyer battle in the sky; and he is reunited with his childhood friend, Biggs Darklighter. Episode 2, made up of material written entirely by Daley, provides backstory to Princess Leia's acquisition of the Death Star plans from agents of the Rebel Alliance on the planet Toprawa.

In scenes set on the planet Alderaan, Leia discusses the plans with her father, Prestor Organa, and determines to go in search of Obi-Wan Kenobi. Later episodes mostly follow the storyline of the film, but additional scenes expand the narrative. In one scene, Han Solo has a meeting with an agent of Jabba the Hutt called Heater; this dialogue is based on a scene in which Solo meets a humanoid Jabba in the docking bay, cut from the original film but later reinstated in the 1997 Special Edition in modified form. In another episode, Daley inserts a conversation in which Admiral Motti attempts to convince Grand Moff Tarkin to leverage the Death Star as a political tool.

The radio version of Star wars proved to be very popular so much so that the other two films in the Original trilogy Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi were also adapted to the radio format Empire was adapted into a 10 part radio series with a running time of 4 hours 22 mins recorded in 1982  at A&R Studios, New York City.The series debuted on NPR on February 14, 1983. in the United States

The last film in the Trilogy Return of The Jedi was adapted for radio in 1996 it adapted into 6 chapters by by Highbridge Audio, the company that had released the first two series on tape and CD. The production returned to the Westlake Recording Studios, where the original series had been recorded.

Television

Star Wars Gets its first TV airing in the UK in 1982

I remember watching on its first British TV premeire when the ITV network showed on the 24th of October 1982 as a a 5 year old it left a rather big impression on me . with its massive space battles light saber fights and the souring music by John Williams

Toys

The Beginning Of the out of This World Toyline

The toys were made by Kenner in the US and released by Palitoy in the UK which imported the figures and packaged them in the UK on Palitoy branded cardbacks.

 Between 1978 and 1985, Kenner produced and sold action figures based on the Star Wars franchise. From a line of over 100 unique toys, a total of more than 300 million units were sold during their original run.

 The license for Star Wars action figures was offered in 1976 to the Mego Corporation, which was the leading company in action figures in the 1970s. Mego refused the offer and the license was subsequently picked up by Kenner.

Star Wars was the first film to successfully market toys based on the movie. In fact, they were so successful that George Lucas independently used the funds to finance the next two movie chapters, The Empire Strikes Back (1980) and Return of the Jedi (1983).

Although the original Star Wars film had been released in May 1977, Kenner was unprepared for the unprecedented response to the film and the high demand for toys, mainly due to George Lucas's unwillingness to provide character/vehicle designs for fear his creations would be plagiarized by movie/TV competitors. Unable to build sufficient stock in time for the lucrative Christmas market, they instead sold an "Early Bird Certificate Package" which included a certificate which could be mailed to Kenner and redeemed for four Star Wars action figures. The first four figures to be distributed were Luke Skywalker, Princess Leia, Chewbacca and R2-D2. The box also contains a diorama display stand, some stickers, and a Star Wars fan club membership card.

By the time the action figures were offered for direct sale in shops, the range had been augmented with a further eight figures—C-3PO, Darth Vader, Stormtrooper, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Han Solo, Jawa, Sand People, and Death Squad Commander—bringing the total number of figures in the initial release to twelve. These were supplemented later in 1978 with a number of vehicle and playset accessories, as well as the J.C. Penney exclusive Sonic controlled landspeeder and the Sears exclusive Cantina adventure playset which introduced four new figures.

You might also want to watch this documentary which covers the first 21 figures in the Star Wars toy range asking the question are they any good (95) Kenner's first 21 Star Wars figures | Are they any good?! - YouTube

Star Wars and Me

Like most children growing up in the 1980s Star wars was part of the landscape growing up Me and Matthew bought most of the toys and played Star wars at home..

 I used to be Han Solo and Matthew my Brother would be Luke Skywalker my bed would be the Millennium Falcon and my Teddy Edward would be Chewbacca. To watch a documentary on the Star Wars toy range click here 

The very first Star wars figure me and Matthew got as presents were a Darth Vader figure for me and Luke Skywalker Jedi knight for Matthew from our Nan.

From then on we would get figures as treats save up our pocket money or a get the figures or a spaceship/Vehicle for Christmas or a birthday present.

So it must have been about 1983 when we first got those figures I remember Luke Skywalker had a lightsaber that didnt fit in his hand very well and mum flattening Luke's blaster with her iron ha ha we sorted out the lightsaber problem when I bought the R2D2 figure that came with a lightsaber that seemed to fit his hand like a glove

Apparently the issue with Luke Skywalkers lightsaber has been fixed when the figure was re-issued for the Star Wars Black series

The first big Spaceship I remember getting as a birthday present was the Snow Speeder that Luke Skywalker flew during the Battle of Hoth in Empire a great flyer but very heavy to lift when your little the guns on the speeder would light up when you pressed a button. Advert for the snowspeeder click here

Matthew got Luke’s X wing fighter the wings unfolded when you pressed a button on R2D2s head Toy Advert for the X wing and Tie fighter click here

The best Christmas present I ever got was the Millennium Falcon playset  and Matthew was rather pleased when on the same day he got the Ewok Village . Toy adverts for the Millennium Falcon playset click here

 and Ewok Village click here

Pictures

Star Wars from the Adventures of Luke Skywalker book cover from 1976

Star Wars Radio Poster from 1981

TV Times Magazine cover from October 1982

Early Bird toy promontion

Darth Vader action figure

Luke Skywalker Jedi Knight figure

R2D2 action figure with realible lightsaber

Notes

Thank you to Wikipedia for the background information on the making of Star Wars and its Toyline Thank you to Youtube for the Vairous adverts for the Star war toys also thank you to the vairous websites for their Star Wars articles featured in this first chapter including Movieweb, Screenrant, Gizmondo and Retro Marvel Man for his Youtube videos on the Star Wars comic adaptions

And the Star Wars Radio Youtube page for the 1979 storybook and tape version of the film

Further Reading

The Movieweb website included Darth Vader at Number 3 in their article 10 Best Movie Character Introductions, Ranked you can read the full list by clicking here https://movieweb.com/movie-character-introductions/#james-bond-mdash-dr-no

This article list 20 of John Williams best film scores with both the scores for Star Wars and its sequel the Empire Strikes back both in the top 10 for the full list click here John Williams' best film scores of all time, ranked (avclub.com)

The Mary Sue film website also published a list of his 12 best film Scores you can read that by clicking here https://www.themarysue.com/best-john-williams-scores-ranked/

Collider.com reporting an AFI list (American film institute) of the top ten best Film soundtracks of all time Star Wars was number 1 in this list you can see the full list by clicking on this link 10 Best Movie Scores, According to the AFI (collider.com)

The Movieweb website published a list called the 18 greatest Scifi film Franchises of all time Star Wars was number 2 on their list you can read the full list by clicking here https://movieweb.com/best-sci-fi-film-franchises/#bill-and-ted 

Coming soon

Tolerance Project extra a long time ago in a galaxy far far away part 3 a lost sequel an ice planet.

Next week Part 3 of my blog looking at the Rocky Franchise

[floral-and-fine]

Take a Shot

Walter Skinner x fem reader

Warnings- lots of fluff, temporary roommates, lemon, long fic

Summary- Walter meets a teacher and they go out for drinks, eventually leading to a relationship he wasn’t expecting.

A/n- This has been in my drafts for over a month, sorry. I couldn’t help writing for him… I know there’s not a huge fandom for him, but hopefully, those who read this will enjoy it ❤️ Thank you @steeevienicks and @where-is-my-mind-tho

Skinner rocked on the balls of his feet, staring at the gray speckled linoleum floors that shined underneath the fluorescent lights. He still wasn’t quite sure how he got roped into this. The whole ordeal seemed below him as the Assistant Director of the FBI, but on the other hand it was important to maintain a good public image, even in a situation like this one.

Skinner tsked, picturing a few of his colleagues and how their actions on several occasions damaged the FBI’s reputation, the ridiculous things Mulder would choose to share would make them all look like fools.

He glanced up at the wooden door, gold metal numbers at the top read Rm 17. From outside the room, he could hear eager whispers and excited chatter. Taking a peek through the window that was in the center, he almost lost his nerve, his palms feeling clammy as he looked at all the faces. He wasn’t expecting that there would be so many of them.

Sighing to himself, he wondered if he could hold their attention, he could only imagine the chaos that would ensue if they all got bored.

Taking a deep breath, he finally knocked on the door.

“Quiet down everyone,” a gentle voice announced. “Our guest speaker has arrived.”

Skinner mustered up a smile, but it was more of grimace as a young woman opened the door, beaming from ear to ear. She was pretty, much prettier than he remembered his teachers ever being.

“Please come in,” she said, stepping aside. “I’m Ms. L/n. Thank you so much for coming.”

Skinner strode in, standing front and center of the classroom. He was greeted by cheeky young faces, grinning up at him from their desks.

Ms. L/n stood at the back of the class and gave him a reassuring nod before he began speaking.

“Good afternoon,” he started. “I am assistant director Walter Skinner of the FBI.”

To his surprise a hand immediately shot up in the air.

“Yes?” Skinner asked, raising his brow.

“What does FBI stand for?”

“Federal Bureau of Investigation-“

“What does that mean?” Another student blurted out.

“It means that we investigate on behalf of the federal government,” he answered. “While also upholding the law and protecting innocent people.”

Questions continued coming one after another, Skinner could hardly keep up.

“What do you investigate?”

“Do you have a gun?”

“Have you ever shot anyone?”

“Do you know the president?”

Skinner took a deep breath, “The bureau investigates a variety of crimes from terrorist attacks to serial killers. Yes, I am armed, I have shot someone, and no, I do not know the president personally.”

He noted Ms. L/n trying her best to maintain some composure. Her eyes were closed as she covered her mouth and tried to resist laughing.

After an hour or so of speaking about his position, answering bizarre questions, and listening to random stories about missing puppies, annoying little brothers, and cartoons, Skinner was relieved to hear the bell ring.

In a rapid and chaotic fashion the elementary schoolers scrambled out of their seats and bolted to the exit with their backpacks in tow.

“You might want to give it a minute,” Ms. L/n informed him. “It’s a literal zoo out in those halls and the parking lot is just as bad.”

“Thanks for the tip,” he replied, eyes still on the door as he listened to the stampede of children continue down the hall.

“Thanks again for coming in,” she smiled. “I know this probably wasn’t something you’d do normally.” She shrugged, tucking her hands into the pockets of her A-line skirt.

Skinner turned his attention to the teacher. “What do you mean?”

Ms. L/n rubbed the back of her head, sighing a little before she spoke. “You having to come here is all probably my fault,” she elaborated. “My uncle is a senator, so when I asked if he could arrange for some guest speakers to visit my class, I wasn’t expecting him to take it so seriously… I’m sorry.”

Skinner chuckled dryly, now it all made sense. “At least it wasn’t a complete disaster… I’m not used to being around children.”

“What? You did an amazing job, honestly, they had a lot of fun with you.”

He leaned against the desk. “How do you do it?” He mused. “There had to be about 25 of them, I’d lose what’s left of my hair trying to keep it all under control.”

She giggled, “Lots and lots of patience, and when that’s not enough there’s a bag of chocolate in my desk drawer and a little bottle of aspirin for the headaches… and on Fridays after a particularly challenging week, I go home and enjoy a glass of wine.”

Skinner nodded, “I keep a bottle of scotch at home for similar days… so what usually happens to get you to break open that bottle of wine?”

“Let’s see…” she hummed, leaning against her desk right next to him. “Just off the top of my head, this week we had Billy pulling Suzy’s hair and her retaliating by kicking him in the shin, then I had sent Tommy to the nurse only for him to come back to class and throw up on the floor, I had to deal with parent complaints over the amount of homework being too much or not enough, and then of course a surprise fire drill to top it all off. Thank God it’s Friday, right?”

Skinner laughed, “Sounds like you definitely earned that glass of wine or maybe even a whole bottle or two.”

“So, what does a tough day for the assistant director of the FBI look like?” She asked.

“Besides making classroom visits?” He joked. “A lot of stress, paperwork, and putting out a lot of fires caused by my own agents… I’ve got an agent who's probably just as much trouble as some of these kids.”

A comfortable few moments of silence fell between the two of them.

“Hey, do you hear that?” Ms. L/n asked, looking towards the door,

Skinner immediately straightened up, listening carefully. “I don’t hear anything,” he answered after several seconds.

“Exactly,” she smiled widely. “Sweet sweet silence. Looks like it’s safe for us to make our escape.” She grabbed her purse and coat, “Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

As they walked through the halls, Ms. L/n continued to make small talk, but it didn’t feel forced or awkward at all. It had been awhile since the last time Skinner felt so at ease with a stranger. She was lovely, intelligent, and charming.

He didn’t really have time to weigh all the pros and cons, but as they got closer to the exit the more he wanted an excuse to stay and talk to her.

“It was nice meeting you,” Ms. L/n stated as they reached the parking lot. She offered her hand for a quick handshake.

Skinner accepted and while shaking her hand noticed the absence of a wedding ring and decided to go ahead and take a shot.

“Can I treat you to that glass of wine?” He offered, before he lost his nerve. “There’s a decent bar nearby that we could go to, if you’re interested.”

She beamed, “Sure as long as I get to return the favor and buy you a drink.”

…

“A headlock? Really?” Y/n laughed in disbelief.

Walter sighed, taking off his glasses and massaging the bridge of his nose. “I’m telling you, it’s like dealing with the most unruly child sometimes.”

A half bottle of red wine sat on the bar between them along with several empty scotch glasses. The evening went by quickly as they exchanged outrageous work related stories.

“But you can’t help feeling like you're responsible for them, you know? Keeping them safe and out of trouble, trying to mold them into caring and empathetic hu-man beings,” she hiccuped.

Walter nodded, “Oh I know… believe me, I’ve put my ass on the line for them, probably a dozen times by now, yet they still don’t seem to learn.”

Y/n rested her head on her hand, elbow propped up on the bar as she gazed at the assistant director. “I’m having a really great time with you,” she added suddenly. “I don’t usually have a lot of spare time to go out like this…”

“Me too,” he agreed, his eyes meeting hers. “Dating and my kind of work don’t exactly go hand and hand.”

“Maybe we can make this a habit,” y/n suggested.

They both perked up as the bartender announced the last call.

“Oh wow,” she muttered, sitting up and looking around, what was a packed bar just hours ago, now only had a few couples and some stragglers left. “I didn’t know it was so late already.”

Walter settled the tab and then pulled out his cell phone. “Here, I’ll call you a cab.”

He could tell from the clouded look in her eyes that she was past her limit and needed a safe ride home. Walter helped escort her outside as she stumbled beside him. They waited quietly under a street light in the cool night until the cab arrived.

“Thanks for tonight,” Y/n said as the taxi pulled to the curb.

“Of course, thanks for the scotch.”

Like a gentleman, he pulled open the door for her but before she got in she quickly opened her purse and dug around until she found a piece of paper and a pen. On the scrap of notebook paper she jotted something down.

“Call me, next time you need a drink or have some time to spare,” she instructed, handing it to him.

Walter nodded, eyes downcasted as he looked at the number, but soon stiffened when he felt her press her lips to his cheek in a sweet little kiss good night.

“See you soon,” she waved as she climbed into the backseat of the taxi.

Skinner watched the cab drive away before tucking the paper away in his coat then searched for his car keys. Despite the long week, Skinner noted that he was leaving the bar feeling more chipper and excited than he had felt all week or all month.

Arriving at his apartment, he took the note out and placed it safely by his phone on the table.

It was a week or so later when he finally called the number listed. It had been a particularly trying day, when he entered his apartment. He dropped his coat on the back of the couch and loosened his tie. The bottle of scotch sitting at the bar looked appealing, but drinking with y/n sounded even better.

This soon evolved into a weekly ritual. They’d have a few drinks and unload about their day.

As the weeks passed and their meetings continued, Walter found himself becoming closer to the young teacher. Almost as if reflecting their growing intimacy, they had stopped sitting at the bar during their dates and now sat at a secluded table in the corner.

Y/n realized early on that Walter showed his affection in very subtle but meaningful ways, he wasn’t the sort of guy to spend loads of money on frivolous gifts or to toss around poetic words of love, instead he did things like walk her to her car and then call her later to make sure she got home safely.

She liked that he acted with thought and that everything he did had clear intentions behind it. He was chivalrous, fair, and had a righteous sense of justice. Walter Skinner, soldier, FBI agent, gentleman, she had thought to herself.

There wasn’t much discussion about their relationship, no labels or expectations, just a weekly tradition in a nice bar. But in that dark corner they had claimed as their own, he placed his hand over hers, her thigh brushed up against his, her head tilted and her lips parted, all leading up to a kiss.

That was when Walter suddenly realized that they had crossed a line beyond simple friendship, and it scared him. He feared where this could lead and how he wouldn’t be able to be what she wanted.

In his ex wife’s opinion he was emotionally distant. Would this relationship too become hollow or lacking?

Unsure what to do, he came up with some weak excuse the following week, and offered her a hollow promise of a rain check. He felt as though he was in some sort of emotional limbo, trapped by his desires to continue seeing y/n and his worries of breaking her heart and his own,

…

Walter sighed, slumping in his seat, scattered on his desk were photos and reports of a recent killing tied to a local serial killer who was currently on a spree.

What he found so unsettling wasn’t the gruesome nature of these murders, this wasn’t the first serial killer case that he’s worked on afterall, but it was the location. All the kills took place in y/n’s neighborhood, in fact this last one took place just a few buildings down.

This put him in a difficult position, sharing this information with her could cause a panic, and there was the moral obligation of whether or not it was fair to protect her life over others, yet he feared that she could be the next target.

She fit the victim type. Single woman living alone. Same hair and eye color as the previous victims. Predictable schedule and routine.

He shouldn’t be jumping to conclusions, making himself worked up over something that may not happen, still…

His eyes landed on the telephone on his desk, what would he even say? He couldn’t ask her to stay in a hotel until further notice, and he couldn’t arrange for her to stay in a safe house either.

Skinner drummed his fingers on top of his desk as he mulled things over, y/n would be safe at his apartment he figured. She could stay with him until they arrested the culprit or the killings stopped.

He lifted the receiver, his knee bouncing anxiously as the line rang.

“Hello?” Y/n’s voice answered.

“Hey, it’s me,” he replied.

“Everything alright?” She asked, wondering why he was calling so late.

There was a long pause, Walter suddenly didn’t feel comfortable sharing all this over the phone. Instead he felt that it would be easier to talk to her face to face. “Everything is fine,” he finally said. “Can I stop by?”

“Sure.”

“Alright, I’ll leave work in a couple of minutes. See you soon.” He hung up the phone, grabbed his coat and locked up his office.

…

When y/n opened her front door, she smiled gently as her eyes landed on the assistant director, looking professional as always in his work attire.

“Sorry for dropping by so late,” he muttered, noticing that she was dressed in her pajamas.

Her hand cupped his cheek. “You look tired,” she said sympathetically. “Rough day?”

He nodded, “You can say that.”

She invited him into her small apartment. “Was it a hard liquor sorta day or would you prefer something more comforting like tea?” She offered.

Walter shook his head, “I’m fine, really.” He sighed, stuffing his hands in his coat pockets.

Y/n tilted her head, sitting on the sofa while Walter remained standing. “I suppose you’ve heard about the recent murders,” he started.

“I have,” she said. “But the news reports have been pretty vague.”

“We’ve been focused on not letting the media turn this into a frenzy or cause any unnecessary panic,” Walter explained.

“Makes sense… must be pretty bad if it has you so worked up,” she commented.

“Not exactly,” he answered. “It’s all fairly typical as far as serial killings go, but some of the details have me concerned about your well being,” His eyes met hers.

“You mean I’m similar to the other victims?”

“Plus there’s the factor of location,” he added, “Last murder happened right down the street and the rest were also close to this area.”

He could see the fear on her face as the information sunk in. Out of instinct, her eyes panned the room as though the murderer was lurking in a corner or in the shadows.

“Guess I should make sure to keep my door locked,” she joked nervously.

“Or,” Walter started, averting his gaze. “I was thinking, if you’re open to it, that you could stay at my place, just until we either arrest the bastard or when he moves on or whatever.”

“Are you sure?” She questioned.

“I’m sure,” he replied without hesitation. He was of two minds on the whole ordeal, but after thinking it over the drive here, he concluded that he’d feel loads better knowing that y/n was safe, despite his anxiety on their budding romance.

She smiled, “Thank you… I’ll pack a bag.” She stood from the couch and went to her bedroom.

Walter carried her bags to the car and then carried them into his apartment when they arrived. His apartment was clean and neat, nothing excessive or frivolous, a mature and simple bachelor’s pad.

“Here’s the guest room,” he pointed out while opening the door and setting her bags inside. “Let me know if you need anything.”

Y/n nodded, “Good night.”

Not wanting her to feel like he was hovering, he excused himself so she could familiarize herself with the space.

Retiring to his room, Walter laid in bed and stared at the ceiling. Before today, he had anticipated that if his relationship with y/n ever reached this point of her staying the night that they’d at least be sharing a bed.

It was strange knowing she was in the next room. She was so close but not close enough. He could only wonder how the next few days would unfold.

…

She was staring. She didn’t want to stare, but she couldn’t help it. When she woke up in the unfamiliar guest bed this morning, she hadn’t mentally prepared for such a marvelous sight. And, yes, it was truly marvelous.

Standing in the kitchen preparing a cup of coffee was Walter, shirtless. Who would’ve guessed that lurking beneath the coat, the blazer, and the dress shirt were such broad shoulders and muscular arms. His back was facing her, giving her a moment to admire him without him noticing. She watched his shoulder blades flex as he started cooking his eggs.

Y/n wasn’t sure how to put it into words, Walter was not only very masculine physically, but also emotionally and with the way he acted, yet it wasn’t at all a bad thing or in a chauvinistic way. His masculinity was exhibited through the way he provided, protected, carried himself with confidence and integrity.

The perfect man, she thought to herself. Finally averting her eyes, she took a breath before making her presence known.

“Good morning,” she chirped.

“Morning,” he greeted, glancing at her quickly before returning his attention to the stove. “How do you like your eggs?”

“Over medium.”

Y/n sat at the small dining table and practically choked on her coffee as Walter turned around and sat a plate of eggs, fruit, and toast in front of her. His chest looked… solid, firm, and adorned with chest hair. She should’ve figured his chest would be just as good as the rest of him.

“Did you sleep okay?” He asked, taking his seat across from her.

“I did,” y/n answered, then took a bite of toast. “Did you?”

He nodded, although truthfully it took him a few hours to finally fall asleep, but he didn’t want y/n to think it was because of her.

“Do you always make such a spread for breakfast?” She asked. “I’m lucky if I have a piece of toast or cereal before leaving for work.”

Walter shrugged, “Usually, I suppose it’s the meal I can count on having, some days I don’t get the chance to have lunch and other days I come home too exhausted to bother with dinner.”

“Well, I appreciate getting to have an actual meal before work.”

As she passed him carrying her plate to the sink, she kissed the side of his head. Then returned to the guest room to get ready for work.

By the time she was finished and headed back downstairs, Walter was dressed in his suit, straightening his blue tie in front of a mirror before throwing on his coat.

He gave her a spare key to his apartment, before they went their separate ways for work.

…

As Walter walked through the parking garage, he figured that he should stop somewhere to grab a few essentials and food on his way home. It was important for him for y/n to feel comfortable while living with him.

Wandering through the aisles, he grabbed a loaf of bread, more eggs, strawberries and blueberries, and a couple of other things to make a few dinners this week.

As he walked toward the checkout lanes, a bottle of Chardonnay caught his attention, the brand, if he recalled correctly, was the same one y/n had enjoyed a few nights ago. He grabbed it, adding it to his basket, before getting in line to checkout.

Opening the door to his apartment, Walter first noted the smell of a home cooked meal wafting toward him accompanied with sounds coming from the kitchen, little clings and clangs from the pots and pans and the radio was buzzing lowly.

He stood at the doorway taking it all in. He had forgotten how nice, how comforting, it was to come home to somebody.

“Hey, welcome home,” y/n said peeking out from around the corner. “Hope it’s alright that I’m making dinner, I just figured since you weren’t home yet, you wouldn’t mind.”

“I don’t mind,” he responded, finally lugging the groceries he bought into the kitchen.

“Is that for tonight?” She asked excitedly, seeing the bottle of wine.

“Can be,” he shrugged, handing her the bottle.

Her eyes lit up as she recognized the brand, “I’m going to get a couple of wine glasses.”

With ease they maneuvered around each other, y/n focused on cooking while he put away food in the fridge and cabinets.

“Go have a seat,” she instructed him, playfully nudging him toward the table. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

During dinner, she told him about her day, her expressions were all so animated as she went through the highlights. He intently listened, engrossed in her stories, he felt at ease. Typically, he’d still be thinking of work, either about a current case, an old case, or wondering what trouble Mulder and Scully were involved in.

Walter insisted on washing the dishes when they were done. Y/n retired to the living room, curled up on the couch with the TV on and a stack of papers on her lap that she graded during the commercials. He joined her when he was done, sitting in his armchair and overlooking a report.

She glanced in his direction and smiled softly, before returning her attention to the tests she was grading.

As the evening progressed a single question seemed to plague his mind, did he deserve another chance at having a domestic life, at having a life outside of his work?

He was going to miss her, especially the little moments that gave him an idea of what it would truly be like to live with her, like how’d he watch her from the corner of his eye as she painted her toenails, or how amusing it was for him when she’d become so invested in some ridiculous TV drama.

With the way things were going he could see the potential here between the two of them, potential to have something resembling a healthy relationship.

But he wasn’t sure if he was ready or capable for something serious like that. Between the fear and the guilt, he didn’t know what was holding him back more.

The next few days went by just as smoothly, Walter couldn’t deny they were compatible. He also couldn’t deny how much he enjoyed just having her around.

It was late at night on Friday when he arrived home. Unlocking the door, he found the apartment dark, walking in further he saw the light of the TV illuminating y/n’s face. Her eyes were fixated on the movie playing.

“I’m home,” he announced standing right by the couch.

She jumped slightly at the sudden sound of his voice and reached for the remote and paused the movie.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he chuckled, switching on the light.

Y/n laughed a little at herself for getting so worked up, “It’s alright… I just didn’t hear you come in.”

He glanced at the frozen TV screen. “What are you watching?”

“I rented ‘The Silence of the Lambs’ on my way home,” she answered, but quickly added, “But we can watch something else.”

Walter removed his jacket and tie, laying them on a chair, before setting his wallet, gun, and badge on the table. “I’m fine with it. Did you have dinner already?”

“Does popcorn count?” She asked, referring to the bowl sitting on the coffee table.

He shook his head, “How does pizza sound?”

“Perfect.”

Walter picked up the cordless receiver and ordered a pizza to be delivered. Y/n turned the light back off and pressed play as he joined her couch. She took one of the couch pillows and wrapped her arms around it, holding it tighter against her chest as Anthony Hopkins’ stare met hers.

As the movie continued, her body seemed to slowly inch closer to him, her fingers soon gripping the sleeve of his shirt. His attention shifted from the movie to her when he felt her grip, he was tempted to place a comforting arm around her shoulders, until there was a knock on the door.

Y/n reluctantly loosened her fingers, allowing Walter to go to the door. When he returned with the pizza, so did the space that was there between them earlier, but it didn’t last long.

Plates were sitting discarded on the coffee table and y/n was again pressed to his side as the movie began to reach its climax.

Walter’s hand found hers, his fingers clutched her hand and gave her a reassuring squeeze. She smiled, snuggling closer to him, her head resting against his shoulder.

He found himself enjoying the close proximity, savoring the feeling of her hand in his. They remained that way until the end of the credits. As she slowly sat up, he wished the movie had been longer or for some other excuse to have her close again.

“So why that movie?” Walter questioned, as Y/n stretched her arms above her head.

“Cause I like it,” she answered simply, looking back at him.

“Looked like you were pretty scared a few times,” he pointed out and gave her a skeptical look.

She laughed, “I love scary movies because they scare me, what I don’t like is watching them alone.”

Walter shook his head and started picking up the plates and taking them to the kitchen. She shuffled in behind him with the empty bowl of popcorn.

“We should do this again soon,” she suggested. “Could become a weekly thing for us, like our end of the work week drinks.”

“Only if I get to pick the next movie,” he countered.

“Deal!” …

Walter was sitting on the couch, bare feet resting on the coffee table, the baseball game on the TV. He was dressed casually in just a white t-shirt and jeans, no suit or tie. It was a rare sight.

He took a sip of his beer and leaned back.

This was one of those rare days off where he didn’t have anything to do, he could just be lazy and enjoy his Sunday by unwinding with a cold beer.

Y/n was on the other side of the couch, twirling a pen between her fingers as she looked over her lesson plans for the upcoming week.

“Sometimes I think you have it harder than I do,” he mused, having noticed that Y/n brought work home with her daily and even worked for a couple of hours every weekend.

She raised her brow, “What do you mean? You literally catch criminals and save the country.”

“Yeah, but I work with adults who are usually capable at their jobs,” Walter elaborated, having thought about the challenges she must face compared to his. “I get to yell at people who screw up and if they really piss me off, I can fire them.”

She laughed, he had a point.

“You’re stuck with pretty much every single child put under your care, it’s a lot of responsibility,” he added. “Not everyone has the patience or dedication.”

She looked at him, her expression soft and her eyes swimming with gratitude. “Thanks,” she said.

“For what?”

“For saying that. For treating my job like an actual career rather than something that’s fluffy or cute…” she blinked away a couple of tears. “My family has always been very condescending when it comes to my career,” she explained. “They assume it’s not difficult or important. Or at least not as important as anything they’ve accomplished.”

Walter furrowed his brow, listening to her intently as she spoke about her family, about how she didn’t share their views or values, about how they scoffed at her life choices.

“Sorry,” she muttered, looking away. “Didn’t mean to lay all of that on you.”

“Don’t be,” he assured her. “You’ve got a break coming up, right?”

She nodded, “One of the perks of the job.”

“Good,” he said in approval. “You deserve a break, maybe you can even go on a real vacation.”

Walter took another sip of beer, he had racked up quite a few vacation days himself. It was a tempting idea, to get away from it all, maybe rent a cabin in the mountains and spend some time out in nature, fishing, or maybe go somewhere tropical, stay at a fancy resort where they serve cocktails with those little umbrellas.

He wondered what type of trip y/n would prefer, either way, he liked the idea of him and her taking a trip together whether it included taking an early morning hike or sitting side by side near the pool.

Y/n moved the papers on her lap over to the coffee table, and scooted closer to Walter. “So who's winning?” She nodded at the TV.

“Yankees,” he answered, casually putting an arm around her shoulders as they both watched the game.

…

Walter woke with a start one night, his body covered in a cold sweat. The red light of his alarm clock read 2:00 am. He groaned, rubbing his forehead, before he sat up and swung his legs over the side of his bed.

He knew it would be futile to try to go back to sleep, and even if he could, he didn’t want to return to whatever nightmare woke him in the first place. Rising to his feet, he quietly made his way downstairs.

He turned on the TV, turning the volume down. He wasn’t in the mood to actually watch, but it felt better to have it on compared to sitting alone in the dark.

His head perked up when he heard footsteps coming from upstairs.

Y/n rubbed her eyes as she reached the last step. “Hey,” she croaked, seeing Walter on the couch. “Can’t sleep?”

He nodded, “You?”

“Thirsty,” she answered.

He sighed, resting his elbows on his knees, listening as she went into the kitchen. Walter closed his eyes, only for them to snap back open when he felt y/n’s hand on his shoulder.

He lifted his brow as she peered worriedly at his face. The hand that had been on his shoulder slowly crept to his face, gently stroking his cheek with her fingers.

For a brief moment, he looked vulnerable like there was something that he wanted to confess to her, but almost immediately his stoic expression returned.

“You should go back to bed,” he urged.

She glanced at the TV screen, some late night infomercial was playing, advertising some sort of CD compilation, the thought of him sitting alone like this bothered her.

“You should go back to bed too,” she retorted.

“Don’t think I can,” he murmured.

“Why don’t you try,” she suggested softly. “Or at least come lay down with me so I know you aren’t alone out here.”

Walter’s forehead creased as he looked up at her face, then at her extended hand, the same hand that had gently caressed him just a couple of seconds ago. From what he’s learned of y/n, she was typically easy going, flexible and willing to roll with the punches, but he could tell this was one of those things where she’d be willing to put up a fight.

Accepting her hand, he rose from the couch and followed her upstairs. She pulled him into the guest room and climbed into bed. He stood there for a moment, awkwardly, until she patted the space next to her expectantly.

“This really isn’t necessary-“ he started and then sighed, y/n appeared exhausted, her eyes slowly closing and snapping back open as she tried to stay awake. “Fine,” he muttered, more to himself than to her.

Sliding under the covers beside her, he pulled the tired woman close, her head resting against his chest. Her fingers absentmindedly drew slow circles over his skin until she finally fell back to sleep.

He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, his own hand now tracing up and down her upper arm as he listened to her breath. The weight of her arm and head draped over his chest made him feel grounded, stable. …

Walter’s eyes were still closed when he could hear his alarm clock faintly beeping. He didn’t question why it sounded so far away, and instead he reached out and felt around on the nightstand, trying to hit the snooze button.

He cracked an eye open after several failed attempts, peeking at the nightstand he didn’t see his alarm clock… or his glasses.

Suddenly he was very aware of the weight on his chest and beside him. He must’ve fallen asleep, he half smiled at the realization. Maybe y/n had the right idea.

With a steady hand, he eased her arm off his chest and slipped out of bed. Before quietly exiting the room, he leaned over y/n and pulled the blanket back over her shoulders, his thumb gently caressed her cheek as he admired her for a moment longer.

…

The assistant director reviewed the case files multiple times now, the serial killer had been arrested and was currently locked away while awaiting trial. All the evidence seemed to be in correct order, the man they had taken into custody had access to all the victims, and he fit the profile.

Of course, the suspect was claiming he had nothing to do with the murders, but he was unable to provide any sort of alibi for his whereabouts either.

Walter knew this was going to happen sooner or later, logically he was aware that this was a good thing, they caught the bad guy and y/n was now safe, but he was struggling with the fact that things were going to go back to how they were. His apartment was going to feel quieter, darker, emptier without y/n being around.

He could ask her to move in with him, he snorted as the idea crossed his mind. He’d probably come off looking like a nut asking her to keep living with him.

Taking off his glasses, he sat them gently on his desk as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He should probably tell her how he feels first before even considering asking a question like that anyways.

Grabbing the telephone receiver he quickly dialed his home phone.

“Skinner residence,” y/n answered in a cheerful tone.

“Hey,” he greeted in return, slightly swaying in his office chair, eyes returning to the files on his desk. “What do you think about going out for dinner tonight?” He suggested.

“Oh? What’s the occasion?”

“I’ve got some… good news,” he explained.

“Must be some really good news,” she pointed out.

“Yeah, I think you’ll be happy to hear it,” he stated, though from the tone of his voice, he didn’t seem too thrilled.

Hanging up the phone, Walter proceeded to dial the number of a restaurant he was familiar with, one that was quiet and intimate. When the hostess answered, he made a reservation for two at 7.

Now he was left to decide what news he wanted to share with her first.

…

Y/n scrambled around the apartment, digging through the bags she packed, hoping she had something nice, like a dress to wear. She gave a relieved sigh, when she found her favorite dress at the bottom, hopefully not too wrinkled.

She shimmied out of her outfit and slipped into the dress. Then rushed into the bathroom to fix her hair and make up.

She twisted and turned in front of the full length mirror in the guest room when Walter arrived.

“Are you ready?” He called from the living room.

Grabbing a pair of heels, she slid them on before skipping downstairs.

Walter was waiting at the landing, hands tucked in his pockets. “You look,” he paused, trying to pick the right word. “Stunning.”

Y/n gave him a dazzling smile, “And you look incredibly handsome, as usual.” She gently smoothed the lapels of his blazer.

Walter rolled his eyes and she playfully pushed him. “It’s true though! You always look good.”

“We better get going,” he said, opening the door to the apartment. “Our reservation is at 7.”

After locking up, they headed towards the car. Walter got the passenger side door for her, before getting into the driver's seat and departed for the restaurant.

Walking toward the entrance, he held her hand. This was different compared to their other outings, more official, a real proper date. Despite having gone out to bars and essentially living together, he was still feeling those first date jitters.

There were two things he was hoping to accomplish tonight, one was letting y/n know that she was safe and the other was establishing where they were at with this relationship.

Walter held the door open for her and then followed her in. The restaurant was like how he remembered, dark tile floors, ambient lighting, candles on each of the tables. The food, if he recalled correctly, was good, fresh, portions were on the small end but that was usually the expectation for a place like this.

The hostess led them to a nice table by a window. Walter pulled a chair out for y/n, waited for her to sit down before taking his own seat.

“How was your day?” He asked, giving the menu a once over before directing his attention to her.

“Exhausting,” she replied, sighing heavily for exaggeration. “The end of the school year is always rough… there are so many things that need to get done before break.”

“Anything I can help with?”

“Well, I could use someone big and strong to move some furniture around for me,” she smirked.

“I believe I qualify as big and strong,” he pointed out. “What do you need moved?”

“Student desks, my desk, things like that,” y/n shrugged.

“I’ll see if I can clear part of my schedule,” Walter stated offhandedly.

“Oh, you really don’t have to,” she said quickly, slightly panicked, leaning closer to him. “I was mostly kidding.”

He placed his hand over hers, his thumb tenderly stroking over the top of her hand, “I wouldn’t volunteer to help if I didn’t want to help.”

When the waiter came by, Walter released y/n’s hand. The waiter filled their glasses with water and took their drink order.

“So what about you, how was your day?” She asked, changing the subject.

“Productive,” he answered vaguely, he still was hesitant on sharing the information of the arrest with her, but it also wasn’t right of him to keep it from her. “Actually,” he added. “It’s part of why I wanted to go out tonight, to celebrate.”

“Oh?” Her eyes lit up. “Let me guess… Are you getting promoted? Receiving a plaque that says best FBI Assistant director? A new copier in the office?”

Walter chuckled dryly, eyes flickering to his hand that was fidgeting with the table cloth, “We’ve apprehended someone who fits the profile of the serial killer.”

Y/n blinked, processing what he said slowly. She should be happy, right? They caught the guy, that’s a good thing. Now her and a lot of other women were a little safer.

She mustered up a smile, “That is good news.”

Walter nodded, tearing his gaze from the tablecloth to the beautiful woman sitting across from him. “I bet you’re excited to be going back to your own place.”

She bit her lip, holding back on saying all the things she really wanted to say, like how much fun she’s had living with him, how nice it’s been to have his company, and how she didn’t want to leave.

“Yeah, I guess everything will go back to normal,” y/n finally said, her voice wavering just slightly.

“Is everything alright-“ Walter began to ask until the waiter reappeared ready to take their orders.

Y/n seemed to have recovered from whatever was making her upset, so he dropped the subject. They talked about their work day, shared stories, and asked each other questions about their lives and childhoods.

The waiter came to clear the table after they were done with their entrees, and left behind a dessert menu for them to review.

Walter shifted in his seat a little and cleared his throat, their little date night was coming to a close quicker than he’d like, “There’s something else I’ve been wanting to discuss with you tonight.”

She laid the dessert menu down and tilted her head looking at him intently as he continued.

“I’ve been thinking about us, and how I’d like to continue seeing you, preferably under more official terms,” he proposed, sounding so formal that y/n couldn’t help but smile widely.

“So, what you’re saying is that the assistant director of the FBI is officially my boyfriend?” She teased.

Walter made a face at the word ‘boyfriend’, it seemed so juvenile especially for someone his age, “I suppose that’s one way to put it.”

She laughed, “Can’t wait to brag about you to all my friends and coworkers.” Her hand reached out across the table, fingers twining with his. “How about we share dessert,” she said, lifting the menu again.

…

They stumbled through the doors of Walter’s apartment. He had barely closed the door before y/n’s fingers curled around his tie, urging him closer as their lips desperately collided.

Walter planted one of his hands firmly on the wall next to her, his palm completely flat, supporting his weight as he leaned forward. His other hand ran up her arm, shoulder, and then snaked around her neck pulling her closer to him.

His tongue swept across her lip, in response she parted her mouth.

With her eyes closed, she loosened his tie before fumbling with the buttons of his dress shirt. After so many mornings admiring his bare chest, she couldn’t wait to feel him under her own hands.

She was going to miss those moments, watching him prepare breakfast in just his pajama bottoms, or seeing him reclining in his chair wearing a tight white t-shirt.

God, why did it hurt? Why did it feel like he was kicking her out? She was aware that it was all temporary.

She was still going to see him, they were still going to go out, but it no longer seemed like enough. None of it would be enough to satisfy her, especially now knowing what it was like to see him practically every night and every morning.

Walter pulled away when he felt something wet on y/n’s cheek. His brow furrowed with concern.

“What’s wrong?” He whispered breathlessly.

“It’s nothing,” she lied, a few tears trickling down her face.

“Are you sure?” He pressed, taking off his glasses and tucking them into his shirt pocket. He tried to look into her eyes but she turned her head away.

She was so upset with herself for ruining the moment. Stupid thoughts. Stupid brain having to think those things instead of just letting her enjoy what was happening.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” she sniffed, straightening herself out. “I- I should probably start packing anyways.”

“It’s pretty late already,” Walter reminded her. “You should get some rest instead, your apartment will be there tomorrow night.”

Y/n nodded, “Yeah, you’re right.”

Walter watched as she retreated upstairs back to the guest room. Sighing heavily, he removed his tie and finished unbuttoning his shirt and headed for his bedroom. He placed his glasses on the nightstand, then removed his shirt and tie resting them on the back of the chair.

He collapsed onto his bed, rubbing his face with both of his hands as he wondered about what went wrong.

…

Y/n stood in the middle of her apartment, something was off, she couldn’t put a finger on it, but it was like things weren’t exactly where she had left them while she was gone. It had been bugging her since last night, she kept tossing and turning, mind racing wondering what it was that was giving her the creeps.

It had to be her imagination, right?

She cautiously paced around, studying every little inch of her home. Nothing seemed to be missing, so it’s not like she had been robbed, and it’s not like the place had been trashed either.

She tried to rationalize it, explaining to herself that being back just felt odd because of how much she enjoyed staying with Walter, almost as if her subconscious was making up excuses.

But as she looked closer at the framed pictures displayed on her bookshelf, she could see that they had all been slightly moved. There were faint lines she could see through the thin layer of surrounding dust.

God, she had to be going crazy, rubbing her head she tried to recall if she had moved them recently, because that would make sense, it had to be that. It would be completely insane to believe that someone snuck into her apartment just to move around her photographs.

Y/n took a few deep breaths and tried to ignore the violating feeling, and go on with her evening. She did admit to herself that she was tempted to call Walter, but he was still at work. She knew that just speaking with him would make her feel safer, but she’d feel like such an idiot if nothing was actually wrong.

She bit her nail, now examining her bedroom. Her eyes darted from wall to wall, searching for anything out of place. But nothing was jumping out at her. Maybe she really was just being paranoid.

Walking around her bed, she paused feeling something unfamiliar under her barefoot. Stepping back, she crouched down, fingers feeling around the plush carpet until she found whatever she had stepped on, a cigarette butt.

Where did it come from? Her skin crawled, staring at it in the palm of her hand.

Despite the fact that her suspicions were confirmed about a stranger having recently been in her home, the evidence only made her more upset. Breathing fast, she stumbled back into her living room grabbing her phone and dialing Walter’s number.

…

Walter was sitting at a long wooden table, half listening to his colleagues as he looked over the paperwork relating to their meeting. The voices around him seemed to drone on and on, becoming white noise in the background.

Suddenly, his cellphone rang, breaking the monotony. He gave the people around him a quick look of apology as he pulled his phone out from his pocket to ignore the call, only to change his mind when he recognized the number.

“Excuse me,” Walter cleared his throat and rose to his feet. “But I need to take this.”

Stepping into the hall, he finally answered. “Hey, is everything alright?”

“I-I’m not sure,” y/n said uneasily. “But I think someone has been in my apartment, at first I thought it was just my mind playing tricks on me but I found a cigarette butt… I don’t smoke… I don’t know anyone who does, I don’t know how it got here. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“It’s going to be alright,” Walter said in a calm voice, listening to her sniffling on the other end. “Do you still have the spare key to my apartment?”

“Um, yeah, I do.”

“Good, why don’t you go to my place? When I get home we can both go to your apartment and figure out what’s going on.”

“Okay,” y/n sniffed. “I can do that.”

“Alright, I’m going to see if I can get out of this meeting, I’ll see you soon.”

…

When Walter arrived home and found the door to his apartment still locked, he knew something wasn’t right. Opening the door only confirmed his suspicions, instead of being greeted by y/n, he walked into a dark empty apartment.

He could hear his heartbeat, hammering in his ears as his mind went straight to the worst case scenario… Did they get the wrong guy?

Immediately, he raced back to his car. In a reckless fashion, he backed up and sped out of the parking garage.

Swerving through traffic, he called her phone only to toss it on the passenger side seat when all he got was her answering machine. He inhaled deeply through his nose, his jaw clenched tightly as he tried to figure out what the hell was going on.

“There’s still time,” he muttered to himself, he had to stay somewhat level headed if he was going to be of any help to y/n.

Going over the details of the crimes in his head, he knew the killer usually kept his victims alive for roughly 24 hours. He had just spoken to y/n an hour ago.

In all the cases there were no signs of a break in, suggesting that the killer either had access to their homes or was someone people trusted.

“She’s fine, she’s going to be okay.”

The victims were killed in their own homes, which meant that y/n should still be in her apartment. He just needed to get there. His foot pressed the gas pedal harder, not caring at all about how fast he was going.

The wheels of the car screeched as Walter took a sharp turn right.

Finally reaching her apartment building, he put his car in park. He didn’t bother with the elevator, running past it towards the stairwell.

As he climbed the stairs, Walter had an inner monologue, convincing himself that he wasn’t going to hold back any longer, that life was too short for him to take this relationship so slow.

He promised himself that he would ask y/n to move in, who cares if they’ve only known each other for a few months, if it makes them both happy, then why not? And they were going to go on that trip, any trip to anywhere, a road-trip, a cruise, it didn’t matter. He would take a whole week off and spend each day with her.

He was going to take advantage of this opportunity, this possibility to have a life with someone he cares about, to have a life outside of his work. He figured this was a lesson worth learning twice, to not pass up or wait too long on the things he wants.

It didn’t matter if their relationship lasted for the rest of his life or just a few years, it would simply be worth it in the end.

Walter unlatched his holster when he reached her floor, his fingers curling around the grip as he removed his gun. His hands were steady as he approached her door at the end of the hall.

Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, side pressed against the wall as he listened near the door. It was quiet on the other side, which could be a good thing or bad.

Cautiously, he tested the knob, and just like he assumed, it was locked. Without wasting more time, he kicked the door open. Doors and locks could be fixed after all.

Creeping into the living room, he immediately noticed the scattered items and broken trinkets. His eyes scanned the room, hoping his loud entrance hadn’t forced the attacker’s hand into doing something rash.

The door to her bedroom was ajar, pushing the door open further, he saw y/n with her hands and feet bound and tape over her mouth. Seeing him in the doorway reignited her efforts as she struggled against the restraints.

As he attempted to crouch down beside her to help, he was blindsided, his back hitting the floor as he was tackled by the assailant. Walter’s gun fell from his hand, landing beside him on the carpet.

His attacker took advantage of his disoriented state, landing several blows before Walter recovered.

Grabbing the man by the collar of his shirt as he swung his fist, hitting him square in the jaw. Quickly, Walter reached out for his gun, his index finger curling around the trigger as he fired.

The killer fell over unceremoniously, dying from a single bullet wound to the head.

Walter stepped over him, immediately returning to y/n’s side as he untied her wrists and ankles. He held her, her body trembling as she sobbed, soon sirens could be heard as emergency vehicles arrived.

The street outside of y/n’s apartment was glowing now with red and blue lights. She was sitting in the back of an ambulance with a fleece blanket wrapped around her frame. Her eyes closely followed Walter as he discussed the situation with the officers who arrived at the scene.

Several concerned and nosy neighbors had made their way out of their homes to figure out what was going on. Calm and authoritative, Walter took control, quickly shutting down the prying questions being asked by civilians and directing the officers and agents on what to do before approaching the paramedics.

His stern expression softened when he saw y/n. He leaned against the vehicle beside her. “The paramedics say you are free to go.”

Fear crossed her face at the thought of returning home, there’s no way in hell she was ready to set foot back into that apartment, especially not alone.

Walter looked at his feet and rubbed his head, “I was thinking, it would be best if you came home with me, unless there’s another place you’d like to stay.”

Her eyes went wide at the offer, but she rapidly nodded her head.

“I think they’ve got it from here,” he commented, watching for a moment. “Let’s get going.”

Carefully getting back on her feet, Walter wrapped an arm around her shoulders and led her towards his car.

The drive was quiet, his eyes focused on the road making sure to get them home in one piece, while y/n buried her head against his shoulder, hand clutching the front of his shirt.

Without turning his head, he placed his hand over hers, trying his best to console her. His thumb stroked over the back of her hand for the remainder of the drive.

She clung to him as they walked from the parking garage to his home.

“Not that I mind being close with you, but walking up the stairs might be a challenge,” he said trying to lighten up the mood.

She smiled, her first smile since all this went down.

They opted for the elevator as they were both physically exhausted. When the doors opened and they entered, Walter pulled her into an embrace.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he reassured her, kissing her forehead. She whimpered a little as he cradled her against him, but she soon composed herself when the elevator dinged.

Stepping into his apartment, she felt relieved, her shoulders visibly relaxing as she went into the familiar space.

Walter’s fingers reached out and hooked around hers. Y/n didn’t question him as he led her upstairs to his bedroom.

He released her hand and headed directly toward the attached bathroom, leaving her to stand awkwardly in the middle of his bedroom. His room, similar to the rest of the house, was sleek and minimal. He had a desk in the corner, a large bed with matching nightstands, and opposite of the bed was a TV stand.

She jumped as she heard the shower being turned on, full blast.

“You should take a shower, it’ll help,” Walter said, emerging from the bathroom. “The water should be warm enough now.”

He retrieved his bathrobe from the hook on the back of the door and handed it to her. She slowly walked towards the bathroom, but hesitated, turning back around and looking at him.

“I’ll be right here,” he promised.

Y/n closed the door, leaving it unlocked. The small room was already steamy thanks to the hot water. She placed the bathrobe on the sink counter, before taking off her clothes.

Alone, she noted that everything she did seemed slower, like she was moving in slow motion. Everything that happened earlier seemed like a blur, it all happened so fast.

She recalled getting off the phone with Walter, and how valid she had felt after the call knowing that he believed her. Before she even had a chance to grab her purse she was attacked. She remembers trying to fight back, grabbing whatever was in reach but it wasn’t enough.

Y/n closed her eyes tightly fighting back tears as she stood underneath the hot water.

…

Walter stretched his arms above his head, but then drew them back down, wincing as he realized how sore he was. As he removed his suit, he saw bruises along his back and ribs beginning to form. He didn’t remember getting hit so hard, but he was probably running on adrenaline for most of that fight.

Pulling on a pair of pajama bottoms, he sat on the edge of his bed and placed his glasses on the nightstand. He stared at the closed door, resting his elbows on his knees.

He considered going downstairs just long enough to make y/n a warm cup of tea or hot chocolate, but remembered that he promised he’d be right outside the bathroom waiting for her.

The minutes ticked by slowly as he waited. His mind returned to all those thoughts that had gone through his head when he rushed up to y/n’s apartment. He was still determined to act upon them, but probably not tonight. Today was already overwhelming enough for her.

He raised his eyes as he heard the door open. Y/n’s hair was still wet, her arms wrapped around herself while dressed in his bathrobe.

Even with the remaining drops of water from the shower, Walter could tell y/n had been crying. He figured that she would be a walking bundle of nerves and would need to be treated gently as she recovered, despite whatever brave face she was putting on.

Thanks to his position and military experience, surviving life threatening scenarios had become somewhat routine, but he could still recall how it was after the first time, the jitteriness, the feeling of being on the brink of spiraling, but most of all he knew how important it was to stay with her. It was too easy to get caught in the web of that moment, reliving it, and cycling through every moment.

“Need anything?” He asked.

She shook her head.

“You sure? I was thinking about making myself a cup of hot chocolate.”

She smiled, “That does sound nice.”

Even though he told her that she could wait in the room, she still followed him into the kitchen. She watched him gather the ingredients and mugs from the cabinets.

Her eyes widened as she noticed the red splotches on his back under the bright kitchen lights.

“You’re hurt,” she mumbled.

“I’m fine,” he replied. “Nothing broken, just a little sore.”

She frowned and almost as if he could read her thoughts, Walter continued. “This isn’t your fault, none of what happened today is your fault.”

He handed her a mug, holding it with both hands, y/n felt the warmth permeating her cool skin.

“Thank you.”

“C’mon let’s get to bed,” he nodded towards the stairs.

“Together?” She asked, her heart skipping a beat.

“If that’s alright with you,” Walter added, shrugging his shoulders. “I just assumed you wouldn’t want to be alone right now.”

“Yeah,” she confirmed quietly, not at all surprised by his thoughtfulness this entire evening. “You’re right.”

Sitting on his bed, they idly sipped on hot chocolate while flipping through TV channels before settling on Seinfeld reruns.

This was nice, an unexpected ending to such a horrible day. Y/n looked at Walter from the corner of her eye, his legs were crossed, arms resting over his stomach, chuckling dryly over some joke, his half-full cup sitting on the nightstand forgotten. It was strange how these mundane and simple moments with him brought her so much joy.

If only all days could end with hot chocolate, late night television, and Walter by her side.

Setting her empty cup on the nightstand next to her, y/n laid back on the bed, her head resting against Walter’s shoulder. Reaching over, he turned off the lamp, but left the TV on.

Having her near like this felt right, like that empty space in his bed for the last couple of years was waiting for her to fill it. It was the same with his life, it was fuller with her around. He probably laughed and smiled more these past few months than he had the entire year.

“What do you think about making this arrangement permanent?” Walter asked suddenly, even surprising himself.

Y/n lifted her head, looking him in the eye, “You mean like us living together?”

“We can bring your stuff over from your apartment here,” he elaborated. “I’m willing to part with some things to make room for yours, you can even redecorate the place, I don’t really have an eye for that sort of thing anyways.”

She stared at him in disbelief.

“I know that we’re still in the early stages of our relationship but I honestly think that this could work-“

“Yes,” Y/n practically shrieked, some of her liveliness returning to her. She bounced practically on top of him, her hands on his shoulders. “Yes, I’d love that,” she repeated more calmly.

Walter smiled, “Then it’s settled, we’re roommates.”

Her hands moved to his face, cupping his cheeks as leaned forward and kissed him. The kiss was sweet and slow, it wasn’t motivated by lust like the kisses they had shared a couple of days ago, but instead was an expression of her pure affection.

She lowered her head onto his chest, his hand lazily drawing circles on her back.

Deciding to go all in, Walter asked another question. “How about we go on a trip next month? Somewhere quiet and relaxing.”

She nuzzled against his chest, he could feel her smiling on his skin. “Or we could just stay here… not leave the apartment or your bedroom at all for a whole week.”

“We can do that too, if I recall you’re starting your break soon and I’ve got plenty of vacation time saved up… we could do both.”

They discussed plans for the near future into the early morning, until y/n finally fell asleep, her head tucked under his chin, both of her hands pressed against his chest with his arms securely wrapped around her.

…

It was quiet, so quiet compared to the usual city noises that y/n was so accustomed to, no horns honking or constant traffic outside, here there was only the occasional bird or rustling from the wind.

Pushing the curtain open she looked out onto the lake, the morning sun reflecting on the calm waves. She couldn’t be happier with her and Walter’s choice. The cabin was reclusive and cozy, surrounded by tall evergreens. It provided lots of privacy, giving the illusion that it was just her and him all the way out here.

She closed her eyes, leaning back against Walter as he peppered kisses along her bare shoulder. His lips moved up towards her ear, giving her lobe a gentle tug with his teeth, before he whispered in her ear.

“Come back to bed,” he breathed, his voice low and deep.

Y/n laughed, twisting around to face him, they had already spent the day before in bed and it seemed as though he had the same plans for today.

“What about all those things you wanted to do, the fishing and the hiking and all of that?”

“We’ve got plenty of time,” he murmured, gripping her chin and leaning forward, capturing her lips in a kiss.

She wrapped her arms around the back of his neck as she reciprocated, her soft lips pressing against his just as eagerly. The sheet she was using for modesty’s sake, slipped off her form, pooling around her feet.

Without breaking the kiss, he took a few steps back, successfully leading her back to the bed. When his legs hit the mattress, he sat down pulling her along with him.

Y/n smiled against his lips, now straddling his thighs with her knees on both sides of him, resting on the edge of the bed. His large hands were on her hips, helping to hold her up.

Her breath hitched as he sucked on the nape of her neck. Over the last few weeks he had become somewhat of an expert on her body, catching on quickly to what she liked and how to make her squirm.

Her hips rocked against him, causing him to hiss, his cock hardening underneath her. His fingertips pressed down firmly on her skin as she continued. Her body was so warm, soft, he loved the feeling of her skin under his hands.

With ease Walter flipped her over onto her back and climbed on top of her. His hands caressed her sides leaving a trail of goosebumps as they traveled lower.

Her back arched when his fingers delved between her folds, stroking and circling over her clit. She moaned, desperate to be filled after his teasing.

His hand moved to his crotch, slowly stroking his cock. He teased her slit with the head before easing it into her needy cunt. Leisurely, he began moving his hips, rocking in and out of her.

Looking down at her, chest rising and falling, he was reminded how crazy he is over her.

Cupping her cheek, he kissed her again, his tongue sliding over her bottom lip, urging her lips to part. Her mouth parted and her tongue met his. He hummed, leaning further down as the kiss became more passionate.

Her legs wrapped around his waist, encouraging him to fuck her deeper. She was so hot, wet, and felt so good. He furrowed his brow, focusing on how pleasurable it was being inside of her, but he was determined to make her cum first.

Y/n gripped his back, nails digging into his skin, writhing as she got closer to her own release.

He increased his pace, thrusting harder and faster. Soon Walter was panting, his warm breath fanning over her sweaty skin. His arms firmly placed by her head as he held himself up.

She gasped, squeezing her eyes shut as she came. Her legs around him tightened, holding him in place as her walls spasmed around his cock.

Y/n continued to writhe while Walter resumed moving his hips. His thrust became erratic as he neared his own climax. His fingers curled around the sheet as he finally came.

He hovered in place, catching his breath before falling onto his back beside her. The only sounds in the entire cabin were them breathing as they basked in the afterglow.

“Better than fishing?” Y/n asked playfully, rolling over onto her side, one of her legs draping over his.

Walter hummed in agreement, while placing his hand over hers and bringing it to his chest.

She giggled, “We could’ve just stayed home, y’know, to do this?”

He peeked an eye open, “And miss out on all this peace and quiet? We still have 5 more days, we’ll get around to other stuff eventually, and who cares if we don’t…. It’s our vacation.”

[grox-empire]

Sorry for bugging with questions again, but I was curious about two unrelated things about your daybreak grox fellows. I may or may not have gotten a tad inspired, I will say.

What is the typical naming scheme of grox? When looking up the three names I recalled off the top of my head, 2/3 were greek, and I was unsure if that was coincidence or intentional. Is there a limit of length or syllables within a name? Are surnames present? Code names? Are fodder grox addressed by name or by some form of serial code?

Is there a specific style to the the cybernetics that grox have? Are there any design taboos regarding those? Are limbs able to be designed to be plug-n-play, or are all artificial parts permanent?

Thank you for your time, and I do apologize if the paragraph worth of questions was a bit much. I just find the world you’ve created to be facinating, and want to learn more.

The whole greek naming thing was wholly unintentional. I mostly just choose Grox names based on what I feel fits them, And a lot of those names just so happened to be greek because I liked them. In earlier drafts I did attempt to stick to the scheme but ran out of names INCREDIBLY quickly, and also realized it made no sense. But there is in-universe reasoning for their names! A grox typically chooses their name themself (like in Epsilon's case) or it is chosen by their Progenitor(s) (In Altair's case.) Celeste is a special case... She's trans! She had another name (Which I can't say because 1. I would feel bad deadnaming her even though she is a fictional character and 2. It's a spoiler) but chose "Celeste" herself. A name is seen as a form of privilege, That unfortunately, Lower-class grox don't often get. Fodder grox are addressed by serial numbers, Whereas higher ranking grox do have serial numbers, but they are typically "cleaner" and addressed by name instead. Epsilon's full serial number is ZYG-NTL-ZV005-1568945-EX-540169-062T1R1661, Usually shortened to EX-540169 when he is being addressed. Decoded, This would mean: ZYG-NTL = Zygote Natal, The company that owns the nursery he was created in. ZV005 = Facility 005 on Zuvius-9. 1568945 = 1,568,945th Batch produced by Facility 005 EX = Expendable 540169 = His personal serial number and what he's most commonly reffered to as by higher-ups 062T1R1661 = Date of creation. Which can be further decoded as such: 0.62/1 | R1661 A.E (Born 62% of the way into third 1 of rotation 1661, After Erebus. Would put his birthday sometime in late june to mid july.) (This would make him a cancer and that is hilarious to me for reasons that only my friend group knows but that's besides the point) Grox have a fucked up date system i'm probably going to go into on another post.

No, Not really! Most artificial parts are permanent, Attached directly to the nervous system. Grox are a near perfect balance between biological and inorganic, If you were to dissect one you would see a near perfect entanglement of organs and mechanical bits. Even a young, seemingly fully organic grox kitten born with all parts intact would be biomechanical- Nanobots build their internal cybernetics as they're developing. Most fodder soldiers and other low-ranking grox have fairly unspecialized cybernetics, While higher ones will often have ones made for practical (Like Altair's arm, Which (I don't convey this very well) has a hand that is able to be swapped out for a gun) or purely decorative purposes (like the gold-colored claws seen on Gula). The style of a grox's cybernetics depends largely on the manufacturer and planet they live on. Rather predictably, As a result, Grox culture is focused heavily on body modification. There are huge underground markets where even fodder soldiers are able to get some, But these are often seized. The sunrise rebellion has all of these restrictions lifted, They tend to paint or modify their cybernetics as a form of protest. One final tidbit: Both a mostly organic, intact grox with only internal cybernetics and chestplate and a grox that has had their body almost wholly replaced by cybernetics are seen as being of high status.

Not need to be sorry for these questions! I love answering them :)

[celinamarniss]

Year in Review

In 2023 I posted 4 fics at 58,153 words.

Previous years:

2022: 4 fics at 45,096 words.

2021: 3 fics posted, 55,788 words.

2020: 7 or 10 fics posted, 125,738 words.

2019: 7 fics posted, 72,149 words.

2018: 7 fics posted, 87,752 words

2016: 9 fics posted, 51,643 words

2017: 9 fics posted, 115,336 words

2016: 9 fics posted, 51,653 words

In total, 49 fics posted to Ao3.

We Can't Keep Meeting Like This

34,355 words, gen, Din/Luke/Mara

The Din/Luke/Mara fic I told myself I wasn't going to write! As these things tend to do, it expanded into a much longer fic than I expected. The "five things (plus one)" structure helped to keep it from spiraling even further, but those individual chapters ended up being much longer than I expected and took much longer to write. At first, I serialized the first couple of chapters in smaller excerpts for WIP Weds on tumblr. It was fun to get a little feedback and the weekly deadline compelled me to write those chapters quickly. But when engagement dropped to basically nothing I stopped posting updates and waited to post each chapter to ao3 when it was done. My progress slowed down considerably, but the chapters got longer. I had fun, most of the time.

The Girl Who Traveled the Ways Between the Walls

4,938 words, gen, Animalis verse

Written for the 5k AU fic challenge. Luminous Creatures begins with Mara and Luke's daemons settling, and I regretted never writing a story with an unsettled daemon character. I wanted to write a fic with a fairy-tale vibe and I wanted to explore the weirdness of the Imperial Palace. The Palace becomes a fairy tale wood, and Mara sets off on a quest in which she encounters strange people who aid her or demand aid. Does she learn the right lesson in the end? Perhaps not.

Echo, Revenant, Targeter, Phoenix

15,431 words, gen, Winter Retrac character study

I wrote this one for the Star Wars Big Bang, an experience that ended up being so stressful that I dropped out. I still finished the fic on time and posted it. The fic attracted a modest number of readers (unsurprising given Winter has been basically forgotten these days), but their enthusiasm was very gratifying. I've always liked Winter and I wanted to give her a chance to shine.

However, while I love the worldbuilding and individual scenes and images in this fic, as a whole I don't think it's very gracefully written and I've never been very happy with it.

Cascade

3,429 words, mature, Luke/Mara

I wanted to include A Non-Zero-Sum Game in Vol II of my printed fic collection, but the series felt unfinished without the fourth and final story that I planned to write after Tether. So five years later, I finally wrote it. It was interesting to go back to those old fics and try to write a story that fit the series. I wanted to post it before the new year broke so that I could count it in the 2023 list, and I rushed to get it out. It could probably still use some work.

As the year went on, I failed to meet a lot of the arbitrary deadlines I set myself, and that made writing frustrating and unfulfilling. I don't want it to be like that! I want fic to be fun.

However, I have a lot of non-fandom projects coming up in 2024, and I'm going to have to shift my focus away from fic, at least a little bit.

GOALS FOR 2024

(almost exactly the same as the goals for 2023)

Triumvirate Finale! (explicit, very) The big finale of the Triumvirate series, in which the trio returns to Coruscant to face the Emperor. Doesn’t have a proper title yet. Progress so far: three chapters drafted, 15,410 words.

A Smuggler’s Guide to Joining the Rebellion (gen) The sequel to The Things You Find on Tatooine. Progress: the first chapter finished, 2,241 words.

Lando Calrissian and the Jewel of Andara (gen) The Lando and Mara heist romcom I’ve been promising forever. Progress: three chapters drafted, but in need of heavy revision, 6757 words.

Other fics on the backburner:

Courtship remix

Experiments

Daughter of the Rain and Snow

More daemon fic! 

[aria-i-adagio]

WIP Ask Meme

Bold of you to think I'm organized enough to have a WIP folder @hoochieblues.

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! Then tag as many people as you have WIPs.

I'm adapting these to brief descriptions. If there are any ongoing files in my GDrive I'll include the title/first line, but those are temp then everything moves to Scrivener.

Tagging: @atypicalacademic @motherofqups @niffty24, @ankoku-jin and @hollyand-writes

Here's what we have going on right now:

(In addition to the super fun work of writing my own bloody geometry textbook because the major publishers can't be bothered to do it decently/even vaguely in line with the current academic standards.)

Thrift Shop Vikings continues. It is cringe, it is dark, it is... hopefully actually decent. It has also grown from, "eh, think I can make the Nanowrimo draft into a decent short novel" to "yeah... this is going to be three genre length novels." I want to say I'm 80% of the way to beta-reader ready draft of Act 1, but I'm scared of jinxing myself. (That said, if anyone is interested in not quite Game of Thrones level dark fantasy, with yours truly treating crack [omegaverse] seriously, HMU. This is... not for everyone, and much darker than the fic I've written.)

Once Sindre had recovered enough to not feel that he needed to sleep until the end of days and the final battle, he began waking with the sun. Misery barely described... There's an idiom: as useless as nipples on a man

Where the Elfroot Grows is not dead. It is just percolating. In fact, recently Jeanne has been very loud about being the POV character for the arrival back at Skyhold. Also, the fish out of water appeal of forcing Rhys though Halamshiral is just too damn much. Also, I feel entirely empowered to make up my own canon now.

Jeanne became one of Rhys's primary minders Scene: Getting Hawke moving Rhys wakes to a kiss pressed to the back of his neck Adrian's arm remains extended R&D Ocean

On that note, I'm not really filing the serial numbers off WTEG per se, because I think I've backed far enough up to basic fantasy tropes. Or maybe I'm filing the serial numbers off, IDK and IDC. Either way, I'm at the world-building, occasional scene writing, creating lore, boning up on history and anarchist theory stage of taking the elements I particularly like and running with them, while paying more attention to consistent characterization and general coherence in terms of theory and theology. Currently has more of a steampunk vibe, as I can't quite pull off the level of 'sweeping social change more than mage rebellion' with a thoroughly medieval world-build. I would get into my Xnity, but to the left, meanderings here, but it would turn into a thesis. Anyway, both this and Thrift Shop Vikings are engaged with the idea that anyone who believes god is on their side is as dangerous as hell, just in very different directions.

And @hollyand-writes I really do have enough of an outline for Gatsby meets Kirkwall to get somewhere with it. Just maybe not until the school year is over. Every time I drive past the road named for the local moonshiners I'm reminded/start thinking on it.

[amadwinter]

tagged by @veloursdor 💖

If you are tagged, post a picture or write out the names of your fics/WIPS as they are in your computer/phone. (Explain the names if you think it’s necessary)

Tag as many people as you like.

No pressure, @notebookishtype, @jedibongrip, @lady-evelin, @to-proudly-go, @dark--whisperings, @obibabywan

Okay, so. extremely embarrassing. This is the part where I attempt to explain my filing system so strap in, for you see, I don't give my file names… names. They have serial numbers. I've used this system for a decade now, it's followed me through multiple fandoms, and yes, it's very anal but I like organizing things.

So, separate folders for In Progress, On Hold, and Complete, then:

X is the prefix for multi-chapter works, Y is the prefix for series/events with multiple fics, Z is the prefix for one-, two-, or three-shot fics. X and Y projects have individual folders, Z projects do not.

An example of the actual files is here:

So this is all one fic. Z001.000a is the outline, summary, title, tags to use, etc. Z means it's a short-shot project, 001 is the project number, .001-3 represents the chapter number (or section, since I may just make it a one-shot in the end), a/b/c/d represents the draft version, with a file ending in d usually being the final edited version.

Yes, I do this with all my fics. Yes, it's a little insane. But I haven't lost track of my 30+ WIPS this way (...mostly).

And it makes keeping track of my word counts in Excel a breeze!

Bonus:

the thrill of the fall (first posted Star Wars fic, still in progress) = X001

too old for childish comforts (latest fic) = Z008

you can sing me anything (Stewjoni Biology Week Day 7) = Y001.007

baby's first college AU WIP = Z002

vampire fic WIP = Z003

[aishangotome]

Main Story Chapter 16-15: Before the Storm (暴雨來臨前) | Light  and Night 光與夜之戀

Chapter 16-13

♡———♡

From that day on, my office was temporarily relocated to SONDER.

Every day, Group A would send me design drafts for review and notify me in advance of important meetings so that I could participate online.

During this time, I focused on preparing my entry for the Youth Design Competition.

Another all-nighter. I woke up at my desk, tore open a package of instant noodles, and poured in some hot water.

You: I think I dreamed up an idea, but I can't remember it now that I'm awake...

For this competition, I didn't choose any of SONDER's popular characters as models. Instead, I chose an obscure little robot named Jude.

Actually, when he first appeared, he wasn't called Jude. He had a forgettable serial number.

He was born in a robot village. Perhaps due to an error during production, Jude had a beating heart, unlike other robots. Naturally, he could laugh, sigh, and get angry from a young age.

Life in the robot village was monotonous and dull. Every day was either work or sleep. Even though every second was scheduled, Jude still felt deeply lonely.

He wanted to leave and have a completely different life. He told the whole village about this idea, but they couldn't understand. They said, "We are tools, and this is where we belong."

Jude's plan almost got the entire village in trouble, and he was nearly destroyed. Looking at the boiling molten steel in the furnace, for the first time, he felt that being melted was no different from life outside.

In the end, he was saved, but Jude didn't know if he was lucky or not. A rich man in the city bought him. From that moment on, he had a new task: taking care of the rich man's daughter, who had a congenital heart condition.

That day was a turning point in Jude's life.

He had never imagined such a beautiful house existed. The cream-colored exterior, five stories high, the vast estate, and the lawn – it all fascinated him.

From afar, he saw a girl running towards him. She had clear eyes and wore a fluffy white dress.

She reminded him of an angel. Even though he had never seen one, this was how he imagined an angel would look.

The girl's smile made Jude feel overwhelmed. He lowered his head in fear, forgetting all etiquette, unsure whether to squat or kneel. The girl had already taken his hand.

It was such a soft and warm hand, completely different from his own segmented metal fingers. So this was what humans were like.

Being gently touched by her, Jude suddenly felt a wave of sadness. He was ashamed of his ugly, cold body. "I'm just a tool, I don't deserve to be held by you," he thought.

"Are you a superhero? In cartoons, superheroes look like this after they transform," the girl asked him.

Jude looked up in surprise and saw a pair of crescent-shaped eyes. So he smiled too. For the first time, he boldly said, "I am."

The girl cheered, holding his hand, "I finally have a friend! And he's a superhero!"

"Do you have a name?" the girl asked. Jude shook his head and regretfully said he only had a serial number.

"Then from now on, your name is Jude."

Jude. When you say this word, you have to pout your lips and drag out the ending sound. He repeated it silently many times, his heart suddenly beating a little faster. He thought, "I have a name now."

After that day, Jude started his working life.

He was a reliable servant, not only taking good care of the girl's daily life but also standing up for her when she was bullied or in danger.

He could tell many bedtime stories, sing, dance, and cook delicious carrot dishes. He was practically omnipotent.

Except for one thing: he wasn't human. Whenever he thought of this, Jude would feel particularly lonely.

But he learned his lesson and never told anyone. He knew that telling would only make him sadder and make others laugh at him.

All of this was seen by a little girl, who volunteered to be his teacher.

The first lesson was to learn to read and write. But Jude couldn't hold a pen. He looked at the girl with embarrassment, feeling that he was really stupid.

The girl wasn't angry at all and continued to teach him patiently. One stroke, then another, and it was the character for "person."

Jude nodded as he felt a pang of sadness. He thought, it turns out that there are still people who don't just see him as a tool, there are still people who understand him.

He used all his free time to practice.

Unconsciously, Jude learned to write, even though the words were as ugly as bugs. He learned to dress, to fish, and to imitate the handwriting of the girl's father to sign her test papers.

The girl promised Jude that when he truly became human, they would be together forever.

As the years passed, the girl's life was no longer just her parents and Jude.

She learned that robots couldn't become human. She apologized to Jude for her childish promise. She no longer needed his protection. She had grown up.

Jude became idle, and every time he looked at the beautiful cream-colored walls, he felt a boundless loneliness. In this loneliness, he wanted to be human even more.

He worked twice as hard at his studies, harder than ever before. Gradually, he felt almost human, except for the fact that he couldn't cry, and the occasional need to overhaul his body.

But he could never learned to cry, no matter what.

Once, he even smashed one of his arms, but failed. He looked at the bare metal wires in frustration and wondered if he would never learn to cry.

Many years passed. One day, he went to pick up the girl from school. As he turned the corner, he saw her kissing a handsome boy. Her eyes were closed, her face beautiful like an angel's.

A sudden buzzing filled Jude's ears. After the buzzing, he heard a "click, click" sound, the warning his body made when something was wrong.

But it was strange, he had just had his body checked the day before yesterday.

His cheeks suddenly felt wet, and Jude reached out to touch the traces of water.

Oh, it's tears, he thought. The warmth on his fingers brought him back to the day he first came to town. He had finally learned to cry.

He wanted to cheer, but the tears flowed more and more, seeping into the cracks, the parts cracking little by little, falling to the ground as he walked, and he felt pain.

But at the same time, he was surprised to find that he had grown wrinkled skin like a newborn baby.

He had finally become human. He should have felt joy, but the happiness only came for a moment and then disappeared.

Touching his beating heart, in the cool breeze, he suddenly missed the robot he used to be.

The story is still ongoing, and this is all we know about Jude's experiences for now. He's not even a main supporting character, so he only has a very small role every time he appears.

Yet, this insignificant character unexpectedly gained a lot of attention after his appearance. Even more surprising is that his fans are not SONDER's target audience - children, but adults.

I think it might be because his story is too boring and obscure.

It takes many years, after meeting many Jude's and striving to become Jude, to understand that his life is actually the greatest happiness an ordinary person can have.

Because life is boring and depressing, what you want is always out of reach, most efforts are not rewarded, and what you have is already being lost.

You might have even lost your heart full of hope in the day-to-day grind without even realizing it.

And in the end, after all the effort, is what you get really what you want?

This is why I chose it. But most importantly, it's because he looks like the boy in the cabin in Evan's office.

These days, I can't help but think of the scene I saw when I touched it that day. That must be Evan's past.

I don't know why he threw all the blocks into the fireplace. I tried to touch it again later, but I still couldn't see the cause and effect, only his hand tightly gripping the corner of his clothes.

I even had the illusion that he wanted to throw himself into the blazing fire.

Is that why he founded SONDER many years later?

I can't tell if Jude has anything to do with Evan, whether he designed him or if they just happen to look alike. After all, their lives don't seem to have anything in common.

But it's also possible that he's a side of Evan I haven't seen.

I can't help but think of when I first met Evan, his confidence and calmness made me think he must have grown up in a loving environment since childhood. Without love, one wouldn't grow up like that.

I never told him, but I envied him. I wanted to have that kind of demeanor too.

It wasn't until much later, in that illusion, that I understood what it cost him.

And then I understood why he always had a calm demeanor, as if nothing could ever anger him.

But when he smiled, even though his eyes curved, it made people feel like he wasn't truly happy. Lately, I haven't even seen that kind of smile.

Choosing this character and designing clothes for him, I have a little selfish motive. I want him to see it and feel truly happy for a moment.

I designed a fluffy jumpsuit for Jude, so he won't feel too cold when he touches himself.

I also added little red hearts on it, with mini light bulbs inside so his heart won't be lonely anymore.

The desk is piled with draft papers, but I'm always dissatisfied, wanting to do better.

One day, two days... Finally, on the seventh day, I got a draft that I was somewhat satisfied with.

You: I wonder if Evan will like it when he sees it? I want to make it right away!

I looked at the draft over and over again, and suddenly missed Evan so much. I want to see his smiling eyes, hear him talk about the origin of SONDER, and hear him praise my work.

I quickly sent a message to Evan, telling him that I was almost done.

The tightly closed curtains behind me were suddenly blown open, and harsh light poured in.

You: How is it daytime already?

I stood up, wanting to open the curtains to get some air, but my head suddenly felt dizzy.

My legs gave out, and the mug in my hand slipped -

You: !

The expected shattering sound didn't come. The next second, my waist was caught.

You: Evan?

The person who was just messaging me appeared in front of me. I blinked, thinking I was still dreaming.

Evan: You didn't eat or rest on time, did you?

I shook my head, about to tell him that I did, but then I sneezed. We looked at each other for a while and laughed.

Evan put me down on the sofa, his palm on my forehead.

You: I'm fine. I probably caught a cold from sleeping here last night.

Evan: Just a cold?

Evan: Do you remember what you promised me?

He sighed and crouched in front of me.

Evan: Why are you so disobedient?

Evan: Does your head hurt? Do you feel uncomfortable anywhere else?

You: No.

Evan: Wait a moment.

He closed the curtains and quickly left the office. He came back in less than half a minute, holding two steaming glass cups with dark brown sediment at the bottom. It looked like medicine.

Evan: It's cold medicine.

He crouched down again and gently stirred the cups.

The steam floated between us, blurring his features. Everything around us was quiet and hazy.

Evan: Okay, it's not too hot now. Drink it, be good.

You: Okay.

I obediently took the cup. It was indeed warm to the touch.

You: It's so bitter!

Evan: It's good to be a little bitter, so you'll remember it in the future.

Evan: Will you dare to not rest well next time?

You: No, I won't.

Seeing me nod, he finally felt relieved and picked up the other cup, finishing it in a few gulps.

You: Do you have a cold too?

Evan: No, I'm afraid you won't drink it because it's bitter, so I'm accompanying you.

It's medicine, after all. Why would he drink it for no reason? Just because he's afraid I won't drink it?

I quickly finished the last bit of medicine and shook the cup to show him that I had drunk it all.

You: How did you get here so fast? I just sent you a message.

Evan: Am I not Doraemon?

You: What CEO calls himself that?

Evan: Why not? Want me to show you the 'Anywhere Door'?

His childish tone made me feel close to him. I can't remember the last time I saw him like this. Lately, Evan always seems to be burdened with something, not letting anyone in.

It's so nice now.

I glanced at the instant noodles on the table that had long since lost their heat and deliberately shook my head.

You: I don't want the 'Anywhere Door' right now. I want the 'Gourmet Tablecloth'. I can have anything I want just by saying it.

You: Can you do it?

Evan: 'Gourmet Tablecloth'... that's tricky. It's an old prop, I'll have to look for it.

I thought he was going to say I was being picky, but he unexpectedly played along.

You: I don't care, I want to eat delicious food.

Evan smiled and scraped my nose.

Evan: Forget it, I won't look for the prop. What Doraemon can't do, I can.

Evan: I remember you said you wanted to eat crabs before?

If I remember correctly, this was a wish I told him a year ago.

You: But it's just the beginning of summer, isn't it? Crabs are for autumn.

Evan: I said I can make you eat delicious crabs, do you believe it or not?

He raised his eyebrows playfully, his expression a little arrogant.

You: I believe it!

-

I was so happy that I wanted to jump up and down and immediately rushed to wash my hands, but half an hour later, I was stumped by a pile of delicate tools.

Silverware, scissors, spoons, long needles... If you didn't know any better, you'd think I was about to undergo surgery.

I tried to pick up a crab, but Evan suddenly reached out and took it from me.

Evan: The crab shell is sharp, it wouldn't be good if you hurt your hand. Let me do it.

I nodded and obediently sat beside him, watching.

Evan leisurely cut off the crab legs and claws, then cut off the ends of the legs, hammered the claws, and peeled off the shell.

He used a crab needle to push out the leg meat and placed all the crab meat in the bowl in front of me.

You: You're so professional.

Evan: I learned it when I was a kid, and I never forgot.

Evan: Eat the leg meat first, it will affect the taste if it gets cold.

I quickly scooped up a spoonful, dipped it in vinegar, and put it in my mouth.

You: It's so delicious!

After a few bites, I suddenly remembered that I hadn't shown him the sketches yet, but he seemed to read my mind and shook his head.

Evan: We'll talk after you finish eating.

He had been dismantling the crabs the whole time, and I was only responsible for eating, so I felt a little embarrassed and helped him pass the hammer or tissues.

We chatted casually, without any logic, sometimes talking about childhood, sometimes about middle school, but surprisingly, we always found some coincidences.

In our parallel years, we had so many similarities.

The fate of people can be really wonderful sometimes.

You: Evan, I've always wanted to ask, did you design that house?

You: It was very popular when I was a kid. I didn't expect it to be your original design.

Evan: Actually, I didn't do it alone. Someone helped me.

He didn't say who that person was, but the smile in his eyes made it easy for me to think of those few yellowed letters that accidentally fell into the water.

You: It's a pity that one swing is missing.

Evan: The swing must have been lost accidentally when we moved here.

You: Is that really what happened?

I thought there must be a story behind it, but I didn't expect it to be like this.

Evan: You're not thinking of making a new one for me, are you?

You: You read my mind.

You: I thought about it just now, like the cotton rabbit on Tianyu Mountain. Didn't we split it into two?

You: But then I thought, no matter how much I try to make it look the same, a new one is always new, and some traces can't be imitated.

You: Maybe it's good this way.

Evan: Don't feel sorry. That swing has gone where it should go.

I didn't understand what he meant, but his expression was indeed relieved, so I chose not to pry.

You: But speaking of which, I was really surprised when you started SONDER.

You: It's not just me, I don't think anyone would believe it if I told them that the CEO of Wan Zhen is also the CEO of SONDER.

Evan: You think it doesn't fit me?

You: Not really, I thought even if you had a side business, it would be related to finance or industry, I didn't expect it to be toys.

You: But now that I think about it, there's no should or shouldn't. Who says you have to do those things?

You: Even if you opened a pork factory, I could understand.

Evan finally couldn't help but laugh, his eyes curving.

You: It's so nice. I really envy you.

Evan: What about me is there to envy?

You: This might sound a bit cheesy, but I've always admired people who can always maintain their imagination.

You: Maybe imagination isn't the right word, maybe it's childlike innocence.

You: I saw an exhibition of miniature toys before, and the artist's words left a deep impression on me.

You: He said that as long as people grow up, common sense and fixed concepts will be sealed up.

You: Like we usually think that books are for reading, clothes are for wearing, and vegetables are for eating.

You: But when we were children, we could imagine freely -

You: Books are like layers of tall buildings, clothes are vast grasslands on the ground, and vegetables are like forests and mountains.

I think my expression must have been childish...

But he didn't laugh at me. Instead, he looked at me seriously, his hands stopped moving, and the expression on his face was warm, as if he had entered that miniature world with me.

Slowly, his gaze drifted away, until he was staring into space, lost in thought. I wonder what he was thinking about.

You: When I first arrived at SONDER, I suddenly thought of these words.

You: So of course I envy you.

You: You can handle so many big things and still run SONDER so well. You're really amazing.

Evan: I'm not as good as you say.

He suddenly lowered his eyes and stopped smiling, as if he had come back to his senses. His voice was so soft that I almost couldn't hear it.

You: What did you say?

Evan: Nothing.

Evan: If I told you that I started SONDER just to grab market share, would you be disappointed?

You: Huh?

Evan: So I'm just a successful businessman.

You: Weren't the SONDER toys designed by you?

Evan: Of course not. There are designers.

You: So you didn't participate at all?

Evan: I occasionally attend design meetings, but I only provide my own ideas and suggestions.

You: Did you participate in Jude's story?

Evan: No. That was written by the screenwriter.

You: I see. I thought...

Evan: You thought what?

You: I thought you created him based on yourself.

Evan: So now I'm not Doraemon, but a robot?

Evan chuckled. I looked at him for a while and shook my head.

You: You're still Doraemon. Jude's story is too sad and has no ending, so it's better not to be based on you.

Evan: Silly. His story ends here.

You: There's no continuation? What about after he becomes human?

Evan: He has fulfilled his wish, isn't that enough? It's a very fortunate thing for a person to live with a purpose and an ending.

You: But he wasn't happy after fulfilling his wish. He even missed being a robot.

Evan: After fantasizing, he finally began to face reality.

Evan: He knew he couldn't be with the girl forever. That's the price of fulfilling a wish.

You: Then is there any point in fulfilling a wish? He wanted to become human for the girl, wasn't it a loss?

Evan: Because what you gain and what you lose is never up to you.

He smiled, a smile of relief, as if he had told himself this many times.

You: Are you trying to say this is fatalism? That we must accept whatever fate gives us?

Evan: It's not exactly fatalism. I just think that getting anything is actually a fluke, and not getting it is the norm.

You: What if... he met another girl?

You: Or, a longing goal, a new hope.

You: People live their lives in pursuit of one hope after another, don't they?

Evan opened his mouth, as if he had something to say, but in the end, he just smiled. I could feel that he didn't agree with my point of view, but he didn't want to dampen my spirits.

Evan: That's a very nice wish.

However, his expression didn't show any longing at all. Instead, it was as if he had already seen the disillusionment after the beauty.

You: It's not a wish, it will happen. Because people are contradictory, they often don't understand their own hearts, and even deceive themselves.

You: But since it's deception, why not choose to believe it? Maybe it really exists.

Evan paused, and his expression suddenly became a little complex.

Evan: That's possible, but there's another possibility.

Evan: He tried, but he really couldn't find any other wish.

They are all sober, and because they are sober, they are calm, so they are willing to treat everything with gentleness.

But at this moment, he reminded me of the boy holding a screwdriver that I saw in the illusion. Because he was sober, he no longer had any expectations.

You: Evan, have you... have you ever experienced Jude's confusion?

He was silent for a moment and shook his head.

Evan: He will get used to it.

You: Get used to it?

Evan: With time, you get used to everything.

These words were truly sad.

But Evan focused on the task at hand, his expression still gentle, without the slightest change. It seemed that he had thought through this sentence clearly and had been doing so for a long time.

Have you gotten used to everything too? I stared at him, asking silently in my heart.

You: Actually, I always wanted to have a cabin like this when I was a kid.

After a moment of silence, feeling that the atmosphere was a bit heavy, I changed the subject.

Evan: It seems your family didn't buy it for you.

Evan poured a plate of crab shells into the small trash can on the desk.

You: Yeah, later I had the money to buy it, but it was discontinued.

You: I couldn't afford it when I liked it, and when I had the money, I couldn't buy it.

You: That's why, when you see something you like, you have to buy it if it's within your means, otherwise you'll regret it to death.

Evan: But what if one day you don't like it anymore?

You: At least you liked it at the time, and it's worth paying for what you like.

You: What about you? Don't you buy things?

Evan: Probably not.

You: Why? Don't you have the urge to possess the things you like?

Evan paused, unusually silent for a moment, then shook his head.

Evan: Maybe it's because I lose things easily.

I thought he would say that owning isn't the best option, or that it's due to his personality, but I didn't expect this to be the answer.

You: I've never heard you say that before.

Evan: You want the CEO to tell you about embarrassing things?

You: Can I hear it now? Just between us.

Evan: Actually, it's not a big deal now that I think about it. It's all from when I was a kid.

Evan: Like when I first started playing with blocks, I was always losing them and couldn't find the most crucial pieces, so I couldn't build anything.

Evan: Then there was a little rabbit that used to come and listen to me play the violin. I didn't take good care of it, and it disappeared.

Evan: Things like that happened, but it rarely happens when I'm older.

Evan: So you don't have to own the things you like. What if you lose them one day?

Evan: Standing here, watching, you know it may belong to you one day, but you don't know when that day will come.

You: What if that thing is a limited edition and will be snatched by others? Wouldn't you still want to own it?

He shook his head, his face again wearing that familiar, distant smile.

So compared to losing something after owning it, never owning it makes him more comfortable and at ease? Even watching it fall into the hands of others, the loss and regret are better than regret and anger.

I couldn't describe how I felt at this moment. I thought I should understand his words, but I didn't want it to be what I understood. Because that would be too lonely.

Evan: Eat the crab.

Unconsciously, he had already dismantled two more crabs, and the golden crab roe was placed in front of me, emitting an enticing aroma. He had been dismantling them for me, but he hadn't eaten a single bite himself.

I wiped my hands clean and picked up the remaining tools.

You: Teach me how to dismantle it. I'm a quick learner.

Evan: Put on the gloves.

He pointed his chin at the gloves in the toolkit.

Evan: First, use the scissors to cut off the crab's eight legs...

Soon I got the hang of it, and I put all the crab roe and leg meat I took out into the bowl in front of him.

Evan was stunned for a moment, then turned his head and looked at me with a smile.

Evan: Okay, that's enough for me. You shouldn't eat too much either.

Evan: Crab is a cold food, and eating too much will make your stomach uncomfortable.

You: Oh...

I lowered my head, and suddenly, as if I thought of something, I laughed again.

You: It doesn't matter, I'll eat less today. Next time, when I'm full of energy, we can eat as much as we want.

You: Anyway, autumn is coming, and we can eat together every autumn from now on.

Evan's hand, which was originally handling the crab shell, suddenly paused. He smiled but didn't say anything.

For a moment, only the sound of the small hammer tapping echoed in the room.

I lowered my head and took a sip of hot water. In the rising steam, Evan's face seemed a bit unreal.

Although he was still as gentle as ever, there was a bit of helplessness and compliance in this gentleness.

It was probably an illusion, but I felt that this compliance and helplessness should stem from some kind of guilt and regret, as if he was racing against time to help me fulfill my wish.

Guilt? I shook my head. How could I associate it with that? How could it be? If anyone should feel guilty, it should be me. He never asked me for anything.

You: Evan, do you have any wishes?

Evan: Wishes?

You: Yeah, besides becoming vice chairman, which I can't help you with.

He chuckled, understanding my intention, and shook his head.

You: I'm serious, think about it carefully.

Evan: Are you trying to help me fulfill my wish?

You: Of course, is there anything you want? Anything, as long as I can do it.

Seeing him frown in thought for a few minutes, I suddenly thought of something and immediately interrupted him.

You: You can't say things like "don't overwork yourself" or "eat regularly."

You: That doesn't count as a wish.

Now he was completely stumped, tapping his fingers on my forehead. I had guessed correctly.

You: Think carefully.

Evan: You win.

Under my insistence, he finally started to think seriously, resting his chin on his hand, staring intently ahead, his gaze gradually becoming vacant.

I leaned on my arms and looked up at him, watching him frown for a while, then suddenly smile as if he had thought of something, and then sigh again.

Evan: I don't think I have any wishes.

He looked at me apologetically, not perfunctorily, but genuinely. I was a little disappointed because I couldn't help him fulfill his wish, and also because he didn't have a wish.

You: What about when you were a child? Did you have any unspoken wishes?

Evan: ....

His eyes flickered, and he unexpectedly nodded, his expression somewhat nostalgic.

Evan: I did have one when I was a kid, but no one can fulfill it.

You: What is it?

Evan: I wanted the world to have no more rainy days.

You: That's too difficult! Only God can do that!

Evan: That's why I said no one can fulfill it. It was just a whimsical idea from childhood, don't take it to heart.

I fell face-first onto my arms. As expected of someone who creates creative toys, his ideas have always been wild. But thinking about it carefully, most of the time I spent with Evan was indeed on rainy days.

-

After clearing the table, Evan didn't leave. Hearing that I had finished the draft, he stayed to accompany me in finishing the initial sketch.

While I worked, he dealt with his own matters on the side. We didn't disturb each other, occasionally looking up to exchange a knowing glance.

Perhaps it was the cold medicine, but I started feeling sleepy after only drawing a third of the sketch.

Evan: What's wrong, are you sleepy?

You: A little, maybe it's the cold medicine.

Evan: Do you want to rest on the sofa for a bit?

I hesitated, afraid that I would lose inspiration if I fell asleep, but I was indeed sleepy, and continuing to draw might be futile.

You: Then I'll sleep for a while.

Evan took out a blanket from the drawer. After I took off my shoes and laid down, he folded the blanket in half and covered me with it.

You: Wake me up in an hour.

Evan: Okay, sleep.

Sleepiness quickly washed over me, and I fell into a dream.

Breathing rose and fell in the silent room. The girl seemed very tired, her body curled up.

You: Mao Ge, do you have any red glass diamonds? Give me some...

Evan: You're still working in your dreams.

Evan sighed silently, moved his phone a little further away, put the girl's hand back under the blanket, and tucked in the corner of the blanket.

You: You guys go ahead, I'm working overtime, five drafts in five days, capitalist...

Evan: ......

Evan: I... don't you hate Evan for treating you like that?

You: A little.

The girl's nose was gently scraped by Evan. She turned over and mumbled.

You: But there's no other way...

Evan was slightly stunned and subconsciously moved closer to the girl, determined to catch the other answer he firmly believed in his heart.

Evan: Tell me, there must be a reason, right?

You: ...I have to help him.

Evan suddenly heard a clicking sound echoing in the air. Yesterday seemed to be repeating itself, or perhaps time was rewinding.

Closing his eyes, it was as if he could hear her soft sobs from that day. It seemed like she had endless tears, and the tears seeped into the wound, the pain more intense than ever before.

Evan finally stopped hiding the expression on his face.

He slowly leaned down, one hand caressing the girl's soft cheek, not knowing what drove him to do so. The girl was still asleep, seemingly having a sweet dream, a slight smile on her peaceful face.

Evan stared intently, his breathing unconsciously syncing with hers.

He felt a little dizzy, the girl's mumbling echoing in his mind.

Caring comes quickly, but it also goes away quickly. One day, she will wake up and leave.

He suddenly thought sadly, if she opened her eyes at this moment, would she find that Evan was actually so unfamiliar?

The person you admire, care about, and forgive is not actually him. And he was so engrossed in playing that person.

Too close, the girl's breath on his face was hot. It reminded him of the firelight in the fireplace, which had also brushed against his face many years ago.

Time stopped inappropriately, and he was startled by the sudden surge of desire within him.

Evan straightened up, forcing himself to cool down quickly. The desire turned into melancholy, filling his chest.

Don't get any closer, he told himself. Don't get any closer.

Tick-tock - the clock hand moved, and Evan looked at the wall, only to find that the time was still stuck on five minutes ago.

He didn't know if he had been dreaming for five minutes, or if in those five minutes, he had entered the girl's dream.

But it was all over now.

A flash of scarlet flickered in his eyes. Evan placed his fingertip on the girl's forehead. Her body twitched, and a wisp of white light slowly floated out from her forehead.

Evan stared at the wisp of light for a long time.

-

I had a dream.

In the dream, Evan and I were standing on a small boat, surrounded by a boundless sea. The wind howled, thunder roared, and dark clouds hung low.

The boat tossed and turned, waves crashing violently against us, filling our vision with splashing white foam.

The shore was still a short distance away. We stood face to face, gripping each other's arms, trying to use the wind's power to dock.

However, on this ocean that felt like a beast's jaws, it was nearly impossible.

We could only hold each other tighter, fearing that if we were not careful, we would be crushed to pieces.

But something even more desperate happened. The boat was sinking little by little, and perhaps in a few seconds, we would be buried together in the sea. I looked at Evan in terror, constantly asking him what to do.

Evan: Push me over.

You: What did you say?!

The strong wind messed up Evan's hair. I couldn't see his expression clearly and could only hear his voice.

Evan: The boat is sinking, it can't carry the weight of two people. So, push me over.

You: What on earth are you talking about!

His tone was flat, even excessively calm. In the roar of the waves, it showed a strange tenderness.

Evan: This is just a dream, I won't die.

He brushed away the hair flying in front of my eyes and even smiled.

You: How do you know this is a dream?

Evan: Trust me, I'll be fine.

Evan: There's not much time left, push me over, okay?

His tone even made me feel like he was begging me. I didn't know if it was his sweat, seawater, or something else that streaked across his face, wet, with a slightly salty smell.

The little boat under our feet was already half submerged.

You: I don't want to.

Amidst the roar of the waves, my answer was very soft, yet loud enough for both of us to hear.

You: Didn't you say this was a dream? Then let's die together.

I couldn't help but feel scared when I said those words, but I restrained the trembling in my voice and gripped his sleeve tightly.

You: I can't bring myself to push you over. I just can't. Don't ask me again.

The sea breeze suddenly stopped for a moment, and the trembling under our feet also stopped for a moment. I saw the horizon where the sea met the sky behind Evan, revealing the fiery red outline of the setting sun.

So warm.

You: I don't know if it will hurt later.

I smiled, but I felt it was better to forget it. This didn't give us any comfort in any sense. I just squeezed Evan's hand harder and harder.

The fiery red light grew stronger and stronger, enveloped us in an instant, and finally returned to darkness.

Evan abruptly withdrew from the illusion. Perhaps it was too sudden, the sound of rushing water still seemed to echo in his ears.

He looked at the girl on the sofa beside him. Her brows were tightly furrowed, her hands clutching the blanket on her chest, as if she was both scared and suppressing something. That wisp of pearly white light had also returned to her body at some unknown time.

He didn't know why he wanted to hug her, but he did what his heart told him to do.

It wasn't until he pulled the girl into his arms that Evan noticed she was trembling. The trembling was very faint. She always seemed to be like this, never wanting him to worry even when she was scared.

A long sigh escaped Evan's throat. He patted the girl's back gently until her body relaxed slightly, then unfolded her clenched fingers and put them back inside the blanket.

Fingertips felt a sudden dampness. Evan raised his hand and discovered that the hand he had just placed on the girl's forehead seemed to have been slashed by some invisible sharp object, leaving a long, narrow wound.

Unlike the previous injury on the back of his hand, he almost immediately understood that this new wound would not heal easily.

Is this the power of God?

Her soul is so powerful, so can his plan be changed?

No need to become a vessel, no need to disappear, but to truly become a weapon.

It's just that she's too soft-hearted. It reminded him of a certain boy from a long time ago.

Before facing a real crisis, she must become stronger.

Evan gently moved his fingertips to the girl's eyebrows, wanting to create an illusion again. He hoped that in this new trial, she would make a different choice.

However, looking at those closed eyes and slightly trembling eyelashes, his hand paused in the air for a long, long time.

For so long that the girl's breathing became even again, for so long that his arm resting on the back of her neck started to go numb, he still didn't let it fall.

He thought, let's stop here for today.

It was already late, the sun had set, the sky was gloomy, and it seemed like it was going to rain. It really wasn't a good time.

Next time. He told himself this in his heart.

After all, there is still time.

.

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Chapter 16-17

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[sick-ada]

CICADA AGENTS MASTERPOST

bc i keep forgetting that i havent actually put much abt my agents on my tumblr and i need to expose the max number of people to my blorbos as i can

going under the readmore cause this is gonna get longg

(this has been in my drafts for over a month)

CB-808 (agent 8, she/her) and Bubbles (agent 8 AGAIN, a SECOND TIME, CAN YOU TELL EIGHT IS MY FAV, he/him)

they're "twins", meaning they both woke up without any memories, saw that they were the only two nearby who looked similar (being the only non-sanitized octolings in the metro) and assumed that meant they were twins

they do all of the tests in octo expansion as a duo! this makes some tests easier (like girl power station) and others much harder (like the one with the dualie squelchers and the grindrails, since they have to share the weapon between them)

this kinda fucks with the computer systems and all their mem cakes are blended (lmao) together. they have to work together to figure out whose memories are whose, to varying success levels

very very very codependent. theyll get anxious if you take the other to another room where they cant see each other. proto (cap3) convinced them to do one test separately and CB got so worked up she punched the side of the carriage and permanently dented it

they didnt try a second time

ON THE TOPIC OF CB DENTING THE METAL: shes freakishly strong, in an artificially-modified way rather than a very-strong-but-normal way

after the splatoon 1 campaign, elite soldiers deserted en masse since nearly all of them were at the concert/final-battle, leaving a gaping hole in the octarian military. in an attempt to fill that gap as quickly as possible, volunteers were "purposed" to become enhanced super-soldiers

(ill probably make a dedicated post abt it when i remember but "purposing" is what they do to make octarians (the stubby tentacle guys) into all the different forms you see in-game. debateably ethical to begin with, SUPER unethical to do to actual octolings)

im bad at timelining but she signs up to this when she's like,,, 13. still kinda blobby

functionally, what it did to her was make her freakishly strong (she breaks the handles on doors ridiculously often) and about 50% more resistance to enemy ink. girls a tank. however, she has trouble regulating her strength and therefore cant superjump accurately since she overshoots her target every time

it's also super painful. she permanently lost her voice from screaming too much and cant speak any louder than a whisper, but she knows octarian and inklish sign languages so she gets along fine

her name is CB-808 bc that was the serial number printed on a livestock tag in her ear

BUBBLES ON THE OTHER HAND. not physically fucked up. mentally though................

his parents were some of the elites who deserted after hearing the Inkantation (in my headcanons it's something that can be resisted, but only temporarily). he wanted their approval more than anything so them leaving him was devastating

hes not actually a dude he just think he/him is a cool set of pronouns. heard someone say "him" once and absorbed it into his gender

he lied abt his age to become a scout/reconnaisance (how you spell that??), even if nobody was really gonna check given the situation after splat1

where CB is built like a tank, he's tall and lanky, and also scarily smart. combined with his lack of filter he'll literally just stare at you for 5 seconds before saying some shit like "oh i see. youre scared of us because of our competence and your perception of our alleigances compared to urs"

captain 3 is scared by him more than CB. as they should be.

his name is Bubbles because he has circular markings on his upper arms and CB is not very good at coming up with names (shes an amnesiac teenager give her a break)

theyre both 15 during octo expansion, and 20 by splatoon3

after reaching the surface they move in with flora (4) and his roommate bola (oc) to form the Leftovers Squad, an inksports team and maybe-gang

these two are wonderfully terrible influences and teach the two of them how to defy authority n shit, it's great, ill talk abt it more in their specific sections

CB mains the dynamo but plays it like a splat roller because she's so strong she can swing it with about that speed. Bubbles mains the e-liter and has nutty aim. the kind of duo that makes people realize theyre ex-soldiers

both of them are too obedient to authority, leftover habits from the military even if they don't fully remember their time there. CB is much worse in this regard, since she was more heavily conditioned to follow orders and Bubbles is observant enough to realize when theyre being taken advantage of

FLORA (agent 4, he/she used interchangeably)

part of the Leftovers Squad! a young punk squid that revels in rebellion and violence and showing people what's what

almost entirely deaf. he had pretty bad hearing to begin with, but loud raves without ear protection worsened it significantly. his hero headset functions as hearing aids but he doesnt usually wear them unless he's on NSS missions or patrols or w/e

came to inkopolis when she was 14, but it wasnt intentional. her parents were the kind of awful perfectionists that expected their children to be equally as perfect, so decided to leave flora in inkopolis bc she did awful in school

he was taken under Bola's fin (get it it's a fish pun theyre fish im hilarious) and became enamoured with the adrenaline-fueled, bloody-mouthed rush of fighting, in and out of inksports

the best way i can describe her is "violent for the sake of violence and gleeful about it". she starts a fight with someone twice her size just for the fun of attacking and taking a beating. probably something wrong with her. i love her with every fibre of my being

has absolutely zero respect or trust in authority -- especially adults, which includes Marie since she's 19 in splat2 and he's only 16

still goes along with her whole "hey go save the zapfish" spiel because A) she cant actually hear what marie is saying B) marie gave her some free fancy hearing aids so she GUESSES she has to return the favour somehow C) she wants to fight some octarian soldiers D) she wants to steal her own zapfish (she succeeds, it gets a tank in Leftover Squad's living room) and E) she thinks itll be REALLY funny to fuck with marie

shes right btw. its hilarious

she only follows orders when it's funnier than disobeying them. she puts zapfishes back in levels she wants to complete a second time. she teaches octolings how to play poker (and how to cheat at poker). she lets a squee-g splat her "to see what it feels like"

if callie wasn't missing marie would NOT put up with his bullshit, but alas.

respects agent 3 even less than marie, when they meet, since at least marie has a sense of humour

he's the one who suggests that CB and Bubbles move in with him and Bola after Octo Expansion. less out of his own goodwill and more out of a combination of morbid curiousity and a sense of "bola has a habit of taking weird inkfish under their fin, walking in with two soldiers will be really funny"

gets hypnoshaded 5 years post-splat2 (during the splat3 campaign) and has to be rescued by the leftover Leftovers (lmao) and Off the Hook. octavio doesnt really convince her to put them on, theres no realistic way he could do that, so he physically overpowers her and puts the shades on

he gets rescued tho! so it's all good and absolutely no interpersonal issues come from it i swear (lying)

Bola (they/them, not an agent)

another member of Leftovers Squad and, arguably, its leader

is about as comfortable with violence as flora (read: very comfortable) but, unlike him, doesn't enjoy it for its own sake. when they do a violence, it's for a specific aim and a purpose, even if that purpose seems inane or petty

theyre the leader of the leftovers mostly because theyre the only one with a goal or any sort of purpose. also because theyre by far the most charismatic of the bunch but mostly bc theyre the only one with any direction in life. the other three are happy to just help with that

(calling it a purpose is doing it too much justice, it's a grudge. a massive fucking grudge against Squidforce as a brand and an institution and a company. they want that thing obliterated)

when they first came to inkopolis (they were like 12), they werent a citizen of inkadia so they had no ID and weren't allowed to do official Squidforce battles, so they went to unofficial/illegal/unregulated turf wars to make some cash

this got shut down by squidforce

they decided "no. fuck this. fuck you, im gonna fuck every single one of you over, die." and swore vengeance about as dramatically as a then-13 year old could. luckily, bola was a very dramatic, kinda blobby 13 year old

they met flora when he came to inkopolis and introduced him to the concept of You Can Just Fight These People If You Don't Like Them

would have agreed to housing CB and Bubbles if Flora had just asked but this is fine they guess

theyll be the last to admit they have a compassionate streak, but they have a soft spot for the underbelly of inkopolis and everyone who lives there, most of which are underrepresented or downtrodden by the system that squidforce upholds

theyre an octoling but not an octarian (citizen of octaria, the nation that lost the great turf war and now lives in the domes) like CB and Bubbles are

instead, theyre a weird subspecies of octoling that went back in the water while the "normal" species of inkfish stayed on the surface. they still have most of the same features as an inkfish, like the shapeshifting, but have more aquatic adaptations like gills and razor sharp teeth and being able to swim in water unharmed (ik inkfish dying in water is only dubiously canon but for my headcanons normal inkfish dissolve like ingame if they fall into water)

they also have sepiism! better described in this post this means their ink/tentacle colours are limited to blacks and browns. their subspecies is more prone to this colour mutation than other inkfish since black is a pretty good camoflague colour if youre in the deep ocean. idk i wanted an excuse to make them look cool dont think abt it too hard

they absolutely despise proto (captain 3). aint no world where theyd trust the militaristic authority figure that orders around the two ex-soldiers theyre trying to teach how to be independent

not to mention the grudge they form against the captain after the hypnoshading incident that i will elaborate on i PROMISE its in the next section

aFTER I TALK ABOUT THE LEFTOVERS SQUAD AS A WHOLE. IF I CANT ESCAPE THEM NEITHER CAN YOU

when they meet, post octo expansion, the twins are 15 and the punks are 16, so theyre 20 and 21 respectively by the time splat3 rolls around

flora gets squidnapped just after splat3 campaign (which lasts like a day for reasons that will be evident once i get to neo 3 and "little" buddy), so proto and the squid sisters are in alterna monitoring the situation and doing cleanup while it happens. this will be relevant later. foreshadowing is a technique where--

a couple months after the twins move in, CB discovers inksports and makes the biggest saddest puppy dog eyes at the rest of the squad until they agree to making a league team together. it's also called the leftovers

CB and Flora love it because they enjoy physically fighting people (CB likes that she doesnt have to be permanently hurting people during it, Flora would like it better if there was a lil permanent injury tbh). Bubbles enjoys it because his sister enjoys it and also because he enjoys using his big brain to do sick predicts and snipe people from across the map where he's nice and safe. Bola only joins at first because telling the ex-soldier, who theyve been trying to convince that you dont need peoples permission to do things, "no" would be counterproductive. they hate every moment they have to fight in a squidforce battle. but then once the team gets well-known they realise that squidforce cant get rid of them anymore and uses their platform to absolutely troll the shit out of squidforce

like when they go on interviews and stuff they constantly mention how shitty squidforce is and "yeah i personally prefer [smaller organisation]'s inksports, they have way better maps and modes, squidforce just has a monopoly so..." and squidforce cant do shit bc theyre the charismatic face of this popular new team and itd be bad publicity

CB and Bubbles dont have real IDs cause theyre amnesiac teenagers who made up their own names. flora and bola get them fake IDs that claim CB stands for Courtney Blitz, making bubbles into Bubbles Blitz

CB often gets called Clam Blitz. CB does NOT appreciate this. Bubbles thinks it's hilarious and only answers people who call him "Blam Blitz" for like a week

Bubbles mains the E-liter but likes lots of different anchors, CB exclusively plays her "splat roller" (a dynamo swung really fast), Flora learnt how to play every weapon from the splat2 campaign and can play basically anything (but usually goes for something close-range so his bloodlust gets put to good use. heavy weapons tend to turn into bludgeons in his hands) i dont know what bola would use tbh. i wanna say a splatana but this is set mainly in splat2 so they wouldnt have those. if anyone is still reading this far pls make suggestions in the notes 👍

CB and Bubbles dont have any sense of money (in my hcs, the domes work more on a communal property + bartering system) so they have no reason to object to pearl giving them inordinate amounts of money. bola and flora have to have a conversation where they ask whether pearl is their sugar daddy. this is agonising for everyone involved.

they used the money to buy an unreasonably large bed that they all sleep on together bc theyre my ocs i make the rules

i promised it was proto next. here *throws them like a javelin through the screen

Proto (captain 3, they/them)

i shld probably start at the beginning for them bc their actions through all the games are the catalyst for a Lot of plot

they were raised in calamari county, their parents were friends with callie and maries parents so they hung out a bunch when they were kids. basically the third squid sister, though they get way too bad stage fright to become idols like the other two

hanging out with those two so much also meant a lot of exposure to cap'n cuttlefish. proto idolised him to no end, decided they wanted to be just like him when they grew up

when the squisters went to inkopolis to become idols, proto became their manager. they were also recruited alongside callie and marie into the NSS when craig decided to reform it. ive never actually watched a playthrough of splat1 so i dont actually know how the plot works other than "craig is there and then callie & marie are there" so the next part is probably gonna be more canon parallel than canon adjacent

also because im just making up random shit about splat1. thats probably also a factor

in this version of canon, the octarians dont steal every zapfish you grab at the end of the levels, only the ones used for the boss levels. all the rest are ones owned by the octarians, mostly bred in captivity cause where tf else are you gonna get the power for running the domes

proto isnt an active agent in splat1, it's callie and marie who go in and do the fighting while proto is the one coordinating them and making plans. their plan is to steal all these extra zapfish to strain the domes' resources and then perform the inkantation during the final confrontation to make the maximum number of soldiers (especially elites) desert, all so they become incapable of stealing more zapfish or launching a retaliatory strike

and cap'n cuttlefish approves so surely that means that this is a good plan and any suffering caused is a necessary evil and it's not like this paranoid old man has any biases or grudges that would impede his judgement. surely not

side note: instead of inner agent 3, CB and Bubbles have to fight inner agents 1 & 2. inner-callie targets CB and inner-marie targets Bubbles because i think the roller-charger parallel is cool

the plan works! elites and soldiers desert in droves, neutering the octarian military capability, and octaria has to focus what resources it has on not starving (which it barely achieves, theres a famine regardless) rather than attacking back. it also creates the conditions for bubbles' parents to leave him and for CB to undergo the extremely painful and inhumane procedures to become an enhanced supersoldier but proto doesnt learn this til octo expansion

the squid sister stories proceed basically like canon, but proto dedicates themselves to agent work while marie focuses on the radio and callie focuses on acting. theyre out investigating the metro with craig when callie gets squidnapped so they dont find out until octo expansion finishes (like a few weeks after she gets rescued)

SPEAKING OF OCTO EXPANSION. PROTO IS THERE THE WHOLE TIME

they dont fight CB and Bubbles, theyre a terrible fighter and a bit of a wimp (and those two are kinda terrifying), instead they watch when they get overpowered and captured by a squad of sanitized octolings (those two got sent to investigate since people kept vanishing when they went that way). they still get the same "youre down here because of me" guilt since they chose to watch rather than intervene

they later got into the metro proper and found those same people but like super amnesia'd and a little traumatised already, even if theyre not sure how much of that was already there, and then they get even MORE fucked up because the metro is fucking Like That

also guilt bc they dont actually help with the tests beyond advice thru the comms. can never have too much of that

they get CB and Bubbles out of the blender by removing their special limiter and spamming splashdown on the top til it breaks, getting exhausted and passing out afterwards, letting tartar control them

the hole in the ceiling gets made by CB throwing a bit of broken blender really hard

usually they would get their ass kicked by either CB or Bubbles, let alone both at once, but the two of them are so exhausted and fucked up and a little injured that the fight is closer than anyone would like. the fight ends when CB grabs them by the ankle and slams them into the floor. think that one scene from the avengers with the hulk and loki

unfortunately, since CB is way too scared and full of adrenaline to properly regulate her strength, she completely crushes their ankle and lower leg. since it doesnt splat them, they dont respawn, and everyone is too preoccupied with destroying the NILs statue to get them to a hospital, the leg wasnt salvageable and they had to get it amputated below the knee

theyre an ambulatory wheelchair user, after that. sometimes crutches instead, but they tend to go for the chair in alterna bc crutches and ice do NOT mix trust me on this. i only had crutches for a couple months but i fell on my ass SO much

anyway they reconnect with callie and marie and things are fine and good and theyre totally not avoiding the twins because marina kept updating them on relevant files she found during OE and theyre struggling to reconcile the idea that these are enemies with the undeniable truth that nobody has had a greater negative impact on their lives than them.

probably would be worse if marina told them the twins were 15. good thing she doesnt!

oh yeah i forgot ages. proto is 17 in splat1, 19 in splat2/OE and 24 by splat3

anyway yeah in their efforts to avoid the twins so that they dont have to think about the wide-reaching consequences of their past actions, they dont actually leave them with any way to contact them while they go check out the Crater. itll only be a quick mission, right? no need to worry about it

alterna happens

then they and the squid sisters come back to cuttlefish cabin to find it completely empty, then discover that flora is still in the hospital after having the shit kicked out of him because he was hypnoshaded and they didnt have any low-tide ink because marie wasnt there and they couldnt contact her and they tried and they tried and why didnt anyone answer and

theres a big cool dramatic confrontation where CB and Bubbles reveal they got all their mem cakes and know exactly who proto is and what they did and would have forgiven if they had been honest but now they cant trust their captain and formally quit the NSS

honestly theres more stuff for proto after this but i ahvent actually figured it out yet.

personality-wise, theyre overconfident in their own abilities and underconfident in the abilities of everyone else, they struggle to give control of anything over to someone else. because why would they allow someone else to be in charge when they know that their own plans are automatically so much better?

as they learn about the actual consequences of their splat1 plan via CB and Bubbles' descriptions of their mem cakes, this confidence falters a bit. they spent so long with that plan being one of their greatest achievements that they cant reconcile with the reality that it had devastating consequences for innocent people

this is not at all helped by Flora, who makes no secret of his opinion on proto. at first he's just fucking with them for the sake of fucking with them, the same way he does for marie, but it gets more antagonistic when proto reacts with genuine anger rather than the good humour marie does. flora absolutely does not take kindly to people trying to exert authority over her so she aims to piss off proto at every opportunity

it is very easy for flora to piss proto off

OKAY I HIT THE CHARACTER LIMIT ILL MAKE A SECOND POST FOR THE REST

[inkandpaperqwerty]

It's entirely too busy, isn't it? Ugh, I have been fighting with this graphic for like a week (my first draft where the chapter number isn't even right is under the cut), and it is determined to cause me suffering it every way it can. But here it is! My second promo image for my upcoming book!

Kyle Stuart and Justin Underkoffler have never met, but they’ve known each other for years. Kyle is something he’s never been able to pin down a name for—serial killer, hitman, vigilante—and he likes taking the law into his own hands. He’s famous for killing humans who commit heinous crimes against nonhumans. Justin, on the other hand, is the Special Agent Deputy Director of the government agency that handles the affairs of nonhumans globally. He’s been hunting Kyle for years, and while he’s gotten close more than once, he’s never been able to get the unclassified criminal behind bars. Their game of cat and mouse seems unending, but then a new player comes on the scene, and suddenly, both of them are missing their oldest child. Will Kyle and Justin be forced to cooperate? Or will they race against the clock, individually, to get back what was taken from them?

I was trying to keep it subtle and avoid that business, but then it was too faded and... the red and blue are supposed to be bright (when the cover is finally finished, you'll see how it ties in), and... yeah, I wound up with the picture above.

[medleyofthepast]

Pitch Man

Serial No: PWN -- 004

Age: No age in mind- let's say late 20's

Favorite color: Lavender

Pitch Man was fully conceptualized by Doctor Wily, a pure weapon inspired by LRAD and with a focus on Infrasound. Sound so low-pitched that it is undetectable to humans. Pitch Man was intended to mess with Doctor Light's head, literally and figuratively, and was designed right alongside Quick Man's brothers. Unfortunately, Wily found concentrating sound to an Infra Beam to be too difficult for what he had available at the time, so the concept was drafted into the PWN folder for another time when he had more time to dedicate to figuring out the beam.

It would not be until the bad doctor stumbled his way into the Lan Front Ruins and encountered Ra Moon that the blueprints of his Robot Masters, both complete and incomplete, would be fully realized. Initially, it had just started with all the blueprint files under folder DWN, but then PWN - 001, a Robot Master with blueprints so incomplete that the name hadn't even been finalized (or at the very least, written down,) was created. Wily then scrambled to fully finish the rest of the files in the PWN folder, but never removed them, thus the line kept the serial number "PWN."

Pitch Man was given a stronger redesign, focusing on durability and a harsh exterior to compensate for the harsh silent sounds he'd make from his weapon. Unfortunately this isn't perfect, even with Ra Moon's help, so the vibrations his own body causes still loosens the panels, screws, nuts, bolts, and armor. While it's sturdy enough to dampen most types of attacks, the Dagger Blades are sharp and small enough to make these metaphorical 'cracks' weaken him. Despite this major flaw, he still believes he is the strongest of his siblings, however unlike Rocket Man, he boasts not about it. He is, in fact, rather quite reserved and often silent, but everyone will feel the vibrations when his temper reaches a boiling point. He walks around with a silent holier-than-thou attitude that drives most of the other Robot Masters insane, but he has a love for anything horror, from stories, to urban legends, to music.

When Mega Man invaded the attack sub, he destroyed all in the PWN line, Pitch Man included. That was the end of his story...?

[Art Pending]

[mapservicescorp]

Challenges and Best Practices in Implementing MAP Policies for E-commerce Platforms

Implementing a Minimum Advertised Price (MAP) policy in the e-commerce world can be a game-changer for brands looking to protect their pricing structure and maintain brand value. However, it’s not without its hurdles. With online platforms growing at an unstoppable pace, ensuring compliance and enforcement can often feel like an uphill battle. Let’s dive into the challenges and best practices for successfully implementing MAP policies.

Why is a MAP Policy Important?

A minimum advertised price policy sets a floor price for which products can be advertised, preventing retailers from undercutting prices to gain an unfair advantage. This not only ensures fair competition but also protects a brand's image and profit margins.

Common Challenges in Implementing MAP Policies

1. Monitoring Violations Across Platforms

One of the biggest challenges is tracking price violations across multiple e-commerce platforms like Amazon, eBay, and smaller marketplaces. With thousands of sellers and listings, manually monitoring compliance can be overwhelming.

The Problem: Unauthorized sellers often advertise products below the minimum advertised price.

The Solution: Investing in automated tools or software to detect and report violations in real time can simplify monitoring.

2. Enforcement Issues

Even if a violation is spotted, enforcing MAP policies can be tricky. Sellers may be uncooperative, and brands can struggle to hold them accountable.

The Problem: Weak enforcement may embolden sellers to ignore MAP rules.

The Solution: Create clear agreements outlining consequences for MAP violations, such as suspending partnerships or halting product supply.

3. Balancing Reseller Relationships

MAP policies can sometimes strain relationships with resellers, especially when brands need to take enforcement actions.

The Problem: Resellers may feel targeted or frustrated by MAP restrictions.

The Solution: Communicate transparently and explain how MAP policies benefit both the brand and sellers by ensuring a fair marketplace.

4. Managing Gray Market Sellers

Unauthorized or "gray market" sellers pose a significant challenge. These sellers often operate without any formal agreement, making it hard to enforce MAP policies.

The Problem: They undercut pricing and damage brand reputation.

The Solution: Use serial number tracking or limit product distribution to trusted, authorized sellers only.

Best Practices for Effective MAP Policy Implementation

1. Draft a Clear and Transparent Policy

Ensure that your minimum advertised price policy is easy to understand, leaving no room for ambiguity. Include specific details on:

Price thresholds

Consequences of non-compliance

Reporting and enforcement protocols

2. Invest in Monitoring Tools

Using advanced MAP monitoring software can make it easier to track pricing across platforms. These tools send alerts when violations occur, allowing you to act swiftly.

3. Educate and Train Resellers

Building trust with your resellers is key to successful MAP implementation.

Organize workshops to explain the benefits of MAP policies.

Highlight how a consistent price structure improves profit margins for all parties.

4. Be Proactive with Enforcement

Consistency is crucial when it comes to enforcement. Respond promptly to violations, regardless of the seller's size or reputation. This shows your commitment to maintaining a fair marketplace.

5. Regularly Update Your Policy

E-commerce trends are constantly evolving, and so should your MAP policy. Regular updates ensure it stays relevant and aligned with your business goals.

Final Thoughts

Implementing a minimum advertised price policy comes with its share of challenges, from monitoring violations to managing reseller relationships. However, by using automated tools, enforcing clear policies, and maintaining open communication, you can overcome these hurdles. A well-executed MAP policy not only protects your pricing strategy but also helps build a trustworthy and fair e-commerce environment for all.

[cyberneticasset]

[CLASSIFIED] Subject: James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes Alias: The Winter Soldier; The Asset; Hound of HYDRA; Sarge; Bucky / Buck ; Rogue Hydraulic Press Gender: Male DOB: March 10, 1917 Rank: Sergeant Serial Number: 32557038

═══════════════ ⋆★⋆ ════════════════

-Early Life and World War II

James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, born on March 10, 1917, was the eldest of four siblings. His close association with Steve Rogers, particularly in their formative years, marked the beginning of his extraordinary journey. In 1941, as the United States entered World War II, Barnes, a three-time boxing champion, undertook the responsibility of training Steve Rogers in the art of combat at Goldie's Boxing Gym. Barnes was subsequently drafted into the 107th Infantry Regiment and swiftly ascended to the rank of Sergeant.

-The War and HYDRA

Assigned to the frontlines, Barnes, alongisde his unit, faced a treacherous Nazi ambush. The battle dramatically shifted at the appearance of a HYDRA tank, turning the tides in HYDRA's favor, leading to the capture of Barnes and his unit. They were subsequently forced into labor at a HYDRA weapons facility in Azzano.

Amid these harsh conditions, Barnes continued to protect those who couldn't protect themselves, enduring frequent acts of brutality. His most notable ordeal was at the hands of [REDACTED], whose subsequent demise was attributed to an "accident." As Barnes weakened, he was subjected to experiments under the auspices of Arnim Zola, setting him on the path to becoming the Winter Soldier. His liberation came in 1943, orchestrated by Steve Rogers.

-Howling Commandos

Joined by Rogers, Barnes became an instrumental member of the Howling Commandos, actively engaged in dismantling HYDRA's strongholds, where he honed his sniper skills. The early months of 1945 marked his final mission with the Howling Commandos. A confrontation with HYDRA's lead scientist, Arnim Zola, culminated in Barnes being forcibly ejected from a train. His survival was no accident, as the SSR soon handed him over to HYDRA to further their experiments.

-The Winter Soldier

Over time, he was methodically deconstructed and reassembled into the compliant weapon known as the Winter Soldier, tasked with eliminating HYDRA's threats and even being contracted out to other agencies. The Soldier was put through a brutal regimen of mental conditioning and physical punishment, making him an obedient, remorseless assassin.

The Winter Soldier's missions were shrouded in secrecy, his identity erased, and his loyalty programmed to HYDRA. He undertook countless black ops assignments, including assassinations, espionage, and acts of sabotage, leaving a trail of intrigue across the globe. His actions were meticulously planned, and he was equipped with advanced weaponry and gear to ensure the success of his missions.

The Winter Soldier's reign of terror continued for decades, taking down high-profile targets, but the true extent of his involvement remained hidden beneath a web of secrecy. He played a crucial role in HYDRA's covert operations, such as the Black Widow and Wolf Spider programs, ensuring that the organization's reach extended into the darkest corners of global affairs.

-Unmasking of the Winter Soldier

The official unmasking of the Winter Soldier occurred in 2014, during the foiled Project Insight launch. His mission was to eliminate key threats to the project, namely Nick Fury, Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, and Sam Wilson. The Helicarrier skirmish witnessed a breakthrough in the Soldier's conditioning by Steve Rogers, who succeeded in partially restoring Barnes' true identity. This enabled Barnes to save Steve and evade capture.

-Life in Hiding

In the aftermath, James found refuge in a series of decommissioned HYDRA safehouses, utilizing emergency bank accounts established by HYDRA for the procurement of mission-related supplies. His life was a struggle to reconcile his past memories while attempting to establish a semblance of normalcy.

When Baron Zemo's actions led to the bombing that killed King T'Chaka of Wakanda, Barnes reunited with Steve Rogers. Together, they clashed with Tony Stark's team, resulting in the revelation that Barnes had a role in the deaths of Howard and Maria Stark. Ultimately, Steve and James prevailed and sought refuge in Wakanda for intensive mental rehabilitation.

-The Aftermath

Despite his past, Barnes has demonstrated a remarkable capacity for resilience and personal growth in the face of these challenges. His ongoing efforts to live a normal life, symbolized by his care for the stray cats outside his apartment, serve as a testament to his determination to seek redemption and re-establish his connection with his own humanity.

The United States government provides Barnes with a substantial salary and housing in exchange for his commitment to remain within the country and uphold good behavior. This arrangement is contingent upon his continued rehabilitation and serves as a safeguard against the ever-present threat of his reversion to the role of the Winter Soldier.

Note -> I tend to stay in the after HYDRA / before CACW timeline, but am working on continuing his story

⋆★⋆ ════════════════ ════════════════

Special Powers and Abilities

Artificially Enhanced Physiology: Barnes possesses Zola's replication of Dr. Erskine's super-soldier serum in his DNA, granting him enhanced physical capabilities.

Superhuman Strength: Thanks to the Winter Soldier Program and a dose of the super soldier serum, Barnes possesses inhuman levels of strength.

Cybernetic Limb Enhancement: His left arm, severed post-train fall, was replaced with a highly advanced cybernetic limb, affording him unparalleled strength and versatility.

Enhanced Speed and Stamina: Barnes exhibits superior speed and stamina, surpassing human limits, as demonstrated during the Civil War chase scene.

Enhanced Agility and Reflexes: HYDRA's conditioning has endowed Barnes with exceptional agility and reflexes, enabling him to perform acrobatic feats and evade threats with ease.

Regenerative Healing and Enhanced Durability: Like Captain Rogers, Barnes boasts rapid healing abilities, though he retains scars from deep wounds. He has endured gunshot wounds and knife slashes, as well as burns and deep abrasions.

Master Martial Artist: Barnes has undergone extensive training, evolving into a skilled martial artist and hand-to-hand combatant, proficient in improvisation and weapons handling. His skills far exceed those of ordinary combatants, allowing him to confront formidable adversaries such as Black Widow and Black Panther.

Master Marksman: A proficient sniper during World War II, Barnes' skills have been further honed as the Winter Soldier, enabling him to excel in marksmanship even in adverse conditions.

Multilingual: Barnes fluently speaks English, Russian, German, and Romanian, as well as the ability to converse in many other languages, facilitating his adaptability in various global operations.

═══════════════ ⋆★⋆ ════════════════

Subject Profile

Barnes, hereinafter referred to as the subject, underwent a series of traumatic experiences as a result of his affiliation with the organization known as HYDRA. This document outlines the extensive list of adverse physical and psychological effects sustained by the subject as a consequence of these harrowing experiences. The following is a comprehensive summary of the observed effects:

Severe Psychological Distress: Crippling anxiety and an unrelenting sense of paranoia have become embedded in his psyche, rendering him perpetually vigilant and distrustful.

Avoidance Behavior: Barnes demonstrates a strong aversion to confrontational situations. He is inclined to avoid such scenarios whenever possible. However, it should be noted that he may also exhibit a reluctance to back down from confrontations that escalate to physical altercations, indicative of his conditioned combat responses.

Intense Migraines and Seizures: The subject experiences recurrent episodes of debilitating migraines and, in some instances, seizures. The origins of these afflictions are closely linked to his history of neurological experimentation by HYDRA.

Periods of Disengagement: Barnes exhibits extended periods of emotional and psychological withdrawal, during which he appears detached from his surroundings. This state of withdrawal may serve as a coping mechanism to manage the trauma he has endured.

Nightmares and Night Terrors: The subject frequently experiences distressing nightmares and night terrors that disrupt his already aberrant sleep patterns.

Compulsive Fixations: Barnes displays obsessive tendencies in his thoughts and actions, potentially as a means of exerting control over his environment.

Control/Lack of Control Issues: The subject grapples with profound issues concerning control and the lack thereof. His past as the Winter Soldier, under HYDRA's manipulation, has resulted in a complex relationship with authority and autonomy.

Angry Outbursts: Barnes is prone to sudden and intense outbursts of anger, which can lead to volatile situations.

Lack of Self-Preservation: The subject displays a notable lack of concern for his personal safety, and frequently engages in behaviors that jeopardize his well-being.

Dissociation: Barnes intermittently dissociates from his surroundings and emotions, creating gaps in his awareness and memory.

Depression: The subject experiences persistent and severe depression.

Apathy: Barnes often displays an overwhelming sense of apathy towards his own well-being and the world at large, a testament to the emotional desolation inflicted by HYDRA's manipulative control.

PTSD/C-PTSD: It is evident that Barnes suffers from both Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (C-PTSD).

Sensitive Stomach: Barnes presents with a condition indicative of a hypersensitive gastric system, displaying an inability to tolerate large quantities of food or highly rich dishes. This physiological response appears to be a consequence of prolonged oroenteral feeding and a liquid-based dietary history. During the subject's time under HYDRA's care, they were maintained on a meticulously controlled dietary regimen, specifically tailored to provide optimal caloric and nutrient intake as per HYDRA's protocols. Presently, the subject's dietary intake primarily consists of liquid nutritional supplements, including meal replacement shakes and protein-enriched beverages, alongside solid sustenance such as granola bars, chicken, and rice.