#said re: oc's just need way more engagement in general. it's not enough just to say promo them. you need to give them as much attention

[volot]

i can't really add much that anyone hasn't said and covered really well ( and i'm glad that this is being spoken about again; this conversation is extremely important ), but i'm definitely in the boat of needing to send more asks in general lately as well. rectifying that is what i'll definitely be doing here and is the game plan moving forward! my mutuals far and wide are extensively talented, especially in the realm of oc's and fan-content, so the least i can do is boost that and make their work be seen.

[heroofpenamstan]

—OC PROFILES: JOANNE & MICHAEL

tagged by the lovelies: @shallow-gravy​, @shellibisshe​, @belorage​, @honeysides​, @strafethesesinners​, @faithchel​, @blissfulalchemist​! thank you, dears! x since i’m tragically late to the party as per usual, not going to be tagging anyone since i assume most of my mutuals have done it, but if you want to go right ahead and tag me too so i can see! :”)) also, fair warning: 80% of the questions i answered at ungodly hours overmedicated on paracetamol and it shows because re-reading this in the morning was a Yikes

GENERAL

name: joanne burton alias(es): jo, annie ( mike exclusive ), burton, dep, jr. deputy, rook, traitor, sinner, wrath/pain in the ass ( john exclusive ), rabbit ( jacob exclusive ), heinous fucking bitch—( also john exclusive ), black widow ( new dawn au ) gender: cis. female age: 29 birth: 30th october, 1988 place of birth: meridian, idaho spoken languages: english; may or may not recite some hebrew lines over the holidays sexual preference: bisexual occupation(s): junior deputy of hope county, montana/menace to all cultists everywhere ( in a certain radius of said hope county, montana, anyway )

APPEARANCE

eye colour: brown hair colour: black height: 157cm ( 5′2 ), or approximately 7′11 when balancing on michael’s shoulders to peer inside john’s windows scars: split right eyebrow ( thanks, jake ), minor cuts and incorrectly healed bruises and gashes, scarred bullet wound on left hip ( you’re welcome, jake )

FAVOURITE

colour: orange or yellow or cyan, or whatever is more stupidly eye-catching and not at all fit for her current environment song: i’ve been thinking by handsome boy modeling school food: various stir-fries, fruits and protein ( or anything that she claims to be “healthy” when, truly, bitch is one step away from living off of instant noodles and canned pineapple and cigarette buds from dutch’s stash ) drink: beerherbal teas and infusions

HAVE THEY

passed university: no, but passing the police academy was already a pleasant enough surprise for her had sex: today? no. two weeks ago? probably had sex in public: probably said two weeks ago gotten pregnant/ someone else pregnant: yes, but we don’t talk about it kissed a boy: yes ( derogatory ) kissed a girl: yes ( affectionate ) gotten tattoos: yes, loads: most were practice scribbles for her ex-girlfriend, and the only true meaningful one she possesses is lydia, scrawled into her pinky in remembrance. otherwise, john seed do not even engage with that rusty ass tattoo gun— gotten piercings: yes, loads multiplied; if there’s a place for a piercing in her ears, she has them. also, an old septum piercing she hasn’t worn in a hot second been in love: yes, loads squared ( girl rents out her heart on the weekdays and cries about the scratches she notices on saturday, but still repeats it all over again come monday; falling in love for her is easy, but actually loving someone and getting over her self-loathing to do so is a whole different ball game ) stayed up for more than 24 hours: she’s probably on hour 31 as we speak ( someone knock her out pls )

ARE THEY

a virgin: whitehorse has heard enough horror stories in the break room between her and joey to last him a lifetime a cuddler: closeted cuddler, yes a kisser: most definitely; woman has to play up her natural assets scared easily: her response time is too lagged for that jealous easily: depends; she’s more jealous of what she should have/could have/would have had in a general sense than being jealous of a particular person or a thing trustworthy: in her own way, yes dominant: disgustingly so submissive: not in this lifetime in love: very much so single: very much so part 2

RANDOM QUESTIONS (tw for self harm/suicide mention)

have they harmed themselves: yes, but it’s more by means of unintentional yet severe substance abuse thought of suicide: not as often as one would assume; joanne has a very strong sense of self-preservation, but tends to run from her bleak reality by means of one harmful way or the other attempted suicide: once or twice during her lowest points in life wanted to kill someone: on the daily have/had a job: girl had juggled three part-time jobs; there is nothing she fears anymore have any fears: ( see above ) to fall back into old bad habits, loss of control, death, failure, a bad future, poverty, being abandoned and forgotten, long stays at a hospital, the judges, the bliss, the power of john’s hair gel

FAMILY

sibling(s): micah burton ( older brother ) parent(s): abigail burton née belman ( mother ); jim burton ( father ) children: asher seed ( daughter in new dawn au ) significant other: jacob seed ( circumstantial lover/”could do without” mentor/#prisonwife #prisonhusband #imkidding #kinda ) pets: boomer for the cuddles, cheesecake for the throttles ( bitch naturally attracts the judges but will forget her dog 101 and run away like what does she think will happen then?? )

GENERAL

name: michael scott-hughes alias(es): mike, mikey, mickey ( mary may exlusive ), mike the bike/fall’s end’s bicycle, resistance’s poster boy, manwhore, cassanova, the archangel ( joseph exclusive ), the antichrist ( also joseph exclusive ), war dog, hughes boy ( fairgrave exclusive ) gender: cis. male age: 30 birth: 6th july, 1988 place of birth: fall’s end, montana spoken languages: english, russian, basic chinese mandarin and turkish sexual preference: pansexual occupation(s): residential shady, shady man ( international arm’s dealer, most recently demoted to local resistance leader and occasional general goods store co-owner )

APPEARANCE

eye colour: green hair colour: brown height: 181cm ( 5′11 ), and 6ft on tinder jkjk man’s confident enough to not grasp for that extra inch, unlike someone ( john ) scars: heavily burnt left hand ( from trying to fish out his ex girlfriend’s boiling corpse r.i.p. to that steaming puss— ), gash on his right temple, nicely healed gun wound on left shoulder, not so nicely healed amputated right hand ( man’s not having the best time in my canon, is he ), various incorrectly healed cuts and bruises

FAVOURITE

colour: green and rustics song: wild world by yusuf/cat stevens food: unlike the faker above, michael actually likes to cook and eat healthy meals, so anything from salads to veggies to oatmeal to soups will do ( and meat; man’s been a vegetarian for a grand total of 4 days in his entire life ( or 14, if you count the time he got abducted to john’s bunker womp )) drink: sugary drinkswhiskey, fresh juices, “water can be so, so sexy, annie—”

HAVE THEY

passed university: no, though michael really busted his ass to self-educate on subjects that will be beneficial to his line of work had sex: we stopped keeping tabs and numbers nearly ten years ago had sex in public: we stopped blinking at these types of shenanigans nearly ten years ago too gotten pregnant/ someone else pregnant: yes? no? maybe? ( mike’s too afraid to even think about it, but hopes he hasn’t fathered any babies any time soon ) kissed a boy: yes ( affectionate ) kissed a girl: yes ( affectionate² ) gotten tattoos: yes: the sword of damocles on his left inner forearm, intertwined snakes running across his right ribs, a tiny smiley face on his ass lord save him gotten piercings: yes, and everyone hated his attempt to revive the 90s with his lil earring like c’mon you already have a reputation of being a sleaze— been in love: yes, but surprisingly not as many times as one may think ( truthfully, three times: mary may, lana, joanne mary may again ) stayed up for more than 24 hours: sometimes it just cannot be helped

ARE THEY

a virgin: maybe in a past life as an amoeba a cuddler: yes ( try to escape his hold during a summer night i’ll give you 5 bucks if you can break the deadlock ) a kisser: he just exists to smooch at this point scared easily: truthfully, he’s quite desensitized as is, so it’s really hard to truly rock him jealous easily: no; though he might get a bit petty and bitter if someone mentions merle and mary may becuase, like, c’mon, mary—merle briggs? trustworthy: one of his better traits, but past events have shown that boy tends to lose some of his morals for love dominant: yes submissive: yes part 2 man will accommodate and switch it up in love: often single: loosely, often

RANDOM QUESTIONS (tw for self harm/suicide mention)

have they harmed themselves: michael has bad mental health trips stemming from having a lot of insecurities as a child; these may evolve into bad habits and pure recklessness on his part to prove his worth thought of suicide: these thoughts don’t come often, but when they do, it’s harder for him than most to shake them off and recover attempted suicide: once, during the boiling pit incident wanted to kill someone: yes, but it comes more from need than want usually have/had a job: yes, though no retail until he was 30 and stuck providing hope county with slugs and bullets have any fears: loneliness, rejection, abandonment, repercussions and consequences, not being good enough, powerlessness, loss, the angel pit, the process of dying

FAMILY

sibling(s): none, but: jackson hughes ( uncle ) parent(s): jessica hughes née scott ( mother ), david hughes ( father ) girl i have his whole family tree drawn up like you wouldn’t believe children: andrew hughes ( son in new dawn au and maybe canon ) significant other: mary may fairgrave ( childhood sweetheart/awkward ex/once in a rare cosmic event fuck buddy/volatile lovers ) pets: peaches loves him she doesn’t; she just wants to chew on his hair

[generalfoolish]

We Go Together

General Dameron!AU

Chapter 1: A Welcome Party of One | Chapter 2

Rating: General for now! It gets more spicy later, and I’ll update accordingly.

Summary: OC character starts flying with the resistance, and happens to meet General Poe Dameron. Eventually, they'll do more than just talk and badly flirt.

A/N: Hey guys! This is my fic from AO3, and I wanted to add it to my master list. It’s a work in progress! Also, we deviate a bit from the actual story of the sequels, but I try to stay pretty close to the lore of the SW universe. 

The explosion burned too bright against Darial’s eyes. The darkness of space enveloped the blinding whites, and glanced sharply against her radiation shield. A red laser shooting from the wreckage jerked her back to life; and in seconds she was maneuvering away from the burning ship behind her.

Dary heard the crackling in her ear piece, and she breathed deeply to steady herself. The casualties would be many. They were increasing ten-fold after each mission. This re-con had gone sideways, fast. She cursed under her breath and banked a hard left against a Tie Fighter shooting near her rear. Her eyes followed the green beams coming from her own X-wing, and smiled when they found their mark.

“Green Two!” The static garbled the words, but she made her call name out.

“Green Two responding,” She grimaced at her own croaky voice. She needed water, and badly.

“Green Two, disengage. Pulling back.” The words were more chewed up this time, her commander getting lost in the static.

“Pulling back, Green Leader.”

“Settle for Base.”

“Base bound, Green Two off.” She eased off the thrusters and checked the nav. Deftly, she punched in the coordinates for Ajan Kloss, and rolled her neck as hyperspace engaged.

She had enough time to glance around and see her team doing the same, before she was flung into the dazzling rush of white jets of light. She could never get over hyperspace. The urge to jerk out of the tunnel, she realized dimly, had never gone away either. Dary knew that the only reason she preferred hyper was that space was too inky black for her comfort. In her years as a pilot, she had never found comfort amongst the stars. She was always unsettled in the darkness, and felt uneasy in the absence of any celestial bodies.

“Something to keep my mind off the dead, at least.” She murmured to herself. In the brightly lit cockpit, there was nowhere to hide those dark thoughts. Her orange jumpsuit glowed, nearly reflective, as if to prove her point.

The nav system started beeping, and gave her the respite she needed to ignore the deep seated survivor’s guilt building in her stomach. She punched a few buttons, flicked a few switches, and dropped out of hyperspace. She found herself laughing, and wished flying was as easy as dropping out of hyper. She nosed her X towards the green moon.

Dary hadn’t had the opportunity to see Ajan Kloss yet, and she had heard it was a beautiful moon. The landscape rushing up to greet her after her descent into the atmosphere was a welcome sight. The rumors weren’t true, though. They left too much unsaid. The whispers of a jungle had missed the devastation of how mesmerizing the moon was. It was so alive, that Dary felt a sob stick in her chest. She shook her head slightly, and focused on the landing pattern.

“Green Two, requesting landing.” She breathed into her mic; still moved by the beauty of the greenery around her. A welcome sight after days of barren space.

“Green Two, welcome home. Head to bay 4.” The gruff voice told her. She was glad to hear Basic in a friendly tone, and never happier to get rid of the undertone of urgency or panic. She docked down in Bay 4, and noted that it looked like every other bay in the resistance, before switching her engines off.

The astromech popped the radiation shield for her, and she pulled her helmet off.

“Thanks R6.” Dary smiled warmly at her droid. He beeped in response. She left him for now, and knew he was in good hands. The Resistance loved their droids, and pilots doubly so. She had left her helmet in the cockpit, and climbed down the ladders a mechanic had pushed, over after she had touched down. The mech was nowhere to be found now, and she decided not to take it personally. She wasn’t anyone special, and the mission had been a failure to be sure. Plus, she didn’t know anyone on this moon. She rolled her eyes at herself.

“What? You expectin’ a welcome party, Dary? A full roll out?” A hardness settled in her chest, and she screwed her eyes up as she jerked the zipper of the flight suit down. She had just stepped out of the suit, focusing singularly on her muddy boots, when she heard the throat clearing cough come from behind her. She turned slowly, making a mental note to clean her shoes later. She was annoyed. She wanted to cry in the shower. She wanted to find her new quarters.

“Yes?” She was sharper than she meant to be, but she was tired.

“Yes, sir.” He said, a smirk dancing on his lips. She raised an eyebrow, but didn’t echo his request. “Because I’m Poe. General Poe Dameron.” He continued, and she realized he had expected her to know him.

“General Dameron!” She exclaimed with as much forced enthusiasm as she could muster. “What can I do for you, sir?” She asked, snapping to attention. Her flight suit still bundled around her boots. He dropped his smirk.

“You’re Green Two, right? Ardan?” His voice had lost nearly all traces of the humor from before.

“Yes, sir.” Dary answered quickly, not wanting to get into real trouble. She held his eyes for a moment, before stooping to grab her flight suit. “How can I help you, sir?” She asked genuinely, folding her suit as she talked. He smiled again, and she couldn’t help but notice he was that much more handsome for it. He was slim, but muscular beneath his loosely fitted button up. The light material really made his tanned skin glow in the bright sun.

“They tell me you saved a lot of lives doing something very dangerous and very reckless.” Her mouth fell open, and she snapped it shut with enough force to rattle her back teeth.

“Sir, I was taking calculated risks to ensure that my fellow pilots made it back in one piece.”

“You were outmanned and outgunned, why would you try to take down a Starfighter alone?”

“I reasoned that if I were successful, then it would be a great advantage for my team.”

“What if you weren’t?” She couldn’t read him, and so she tried pleading her case earnestly.

“Then I would have done everything in my power to make sure that I at least bought my team a few minutes for a retreat.” She swallowed painfully; her throat was tight and dry.

“Good work out there today, Ardan. That kind of honest fighting is how we’ll win.” He took her by the shoulder, and simply held it for a moment. It wasn’t lost on her that his palm devoured her shoulder, and engulfed her more than she thought possible. His words filled in her a sense of pride, and her heart hammered against her ribs.

“Thanks, sir.” She squeaked out, and immediately regretted how she sounded. He only smiled, and opened his other hand in a gesture. He swept his arm back, indicating she was to move that way, and somehow her brain registered the signal and started walking. Her steps felt as clumsy as a newborn banthas.

“Have you been to the base before?” He asked, his hands swinging lazily by his side. She struggled to match his long stride, although he seemed to be moving at a leisurely pace.

“No, but the view flying in was something else.” She told him, shyly moving her hair behind her ears.

“It always reminds me of Yavin.” He told her, a small smile lifting to his eyes.

“I’ve never been,” She admitted freely, “It must be lovely to be comparable to here. Is Yavin another base?” He chuckled a little, and studied her face.

“I was born on Yavin, but it does have a...rich history involving resistances. Look, not to be forward, but I was on my way to dinner. The brass has me doing some drills at an unbelievably early kriffing hour, and so I plan to turn in early. You can say no, but you’d be doing me a pretty big favor. We don’t get a lot of new faces, especially pretty faces. Whaddya say, take another risk?” He laughed, and any doubts she had were gone. If it was inappropriate, surely he wouldn’t ask.

“That sounds lovely.” She told him before she could reconsider. Her eyes trained on her boots as they walked forward. She didn’t know how her boots had gotten so dirty. There isn’t mud in space, she breathed out her nose in a sort of snort laugh, and caught Poe’s eyes. He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Something funny?” He asked, amused

“Just...well it’s dumb, but my boots are filthy. No idea how, I’ve been in space for days. No mud in the cockpit.” She told him aimlessly, the words falling out easily. She couldn’t help it; he was impossibly easy to talk to. He grinned at her, nodding along.

“Forget being clean. The first rule of the Resistance is to be as dirty as possible, but also you must always be absolutely presentable.” He laughed, pointing a finger at her in a menacing way. She liked this. She hadn’t really fit in on her last post.

“Let me stash my suit,” She managed between laughing fits. His stories were coming more freely, and the long walk to the end of the terminal was almost over. She jogged to a locker and found her code name. Green Two. Impersonal, but perfect. Especially, she grimaced, in the heat of battle. It was a precaution, just in case the First Order happened to tap the comms. She stashed her suit quickly, and turned on her heel to find Poe just waiting for her. Patiently, he was watching her. Her breath caught, and before she could let that color her face she forced her legs to close the distance between them.

“Hungry?” She groaned.

“So, what happened after you got caught?” She asked, picking up the last thread of conversation easily, as they started the last leg of the walk to the commissary.

“Well, what you need to know is how to confuse a bageraset--I escaped, of course.” He shrugged, throwing her a smirk. She could smell the stew now, and knew that it would be just edible. Her stomach growled in anticipation, though. Which earned her a shoulder nudge from her companion.

“Starving, actually. I wasn’t joking about being in space for days. All I’ve had are those dreadful ration bars.” He laughed in response.

“That won’t do. The food here isn’t as bad as some of the posts. The cook is trained, so he does alright.” He opened the right side of the double swinging doors with one arm, and gestured her in with the other. The bustle of the canteen hit her right away.

Laughing, yelling, eating, drinking, and just a general buzz of life. She normally prefered the quiet, but the energy was contagious. She turned a quick grin to Poe before ducking past him.

[rockshortage]

*Cracks knuckles* Ow. Let's see, how about: A6, 16. B1, 12. C1, 2, 3, 5, 8. D4. E2, 3, 7. F2, 5, 10, 12 (Sorry, but also not sorry) I6. L1, 2, 4, and 9 :)

hoo boy that took a while

A6) Does your OC tend to assume their interpretation of events and reality is correct, or do they question it? I.e., “I’m sure that’s what you said” versus “It’s possible I misheard you.”

Ah, he questions himself a lot. Maybe he wasn’t listening well enough because he was too distracted by being anxious? Maybe he misinterpreted this event, because his background knowledge on it was lacking, he doesn’t know the full story and opinions from all sides, he’s not sure he can form a well educated opinion on this--

A16) Does your OC have to go through their own trials to learn a lesson, or do they listen and learn from observation and lecture? I.e., does your OC listen when someone tries to tell them the importance of budgeting, or do they have to go experience what happens if you don’t budget first?

Hector needs to do it himself for Science, because how else is he to truly know, if not from his own personal experience? Trusting what people tell you is good and all but gathering data yourself is better.

Unless we’re talking about raider politics, in which case there’s not really a good way for Hector to gather data without seriously endangering him and friends, so he’ll just listen to Gage.

B1) Do they believe you have to give respect to get it, or get respect to give it?

Generally, he believes it’s necessary to give people respect before you can expect it in return. He learns that many people do not in fact think the same way. He’ll still want to extend basic courtesy to them even if they’re assholes, unless they disrespect/piss him off to the extremes, or if their actions threaten his position and in turn the well-being of himself and friends.

B12) Your OC orders something to eat and gets their order done in a pretty wrong way, something they can’t just pick off or whatnot to correct, or something major is missing. What do they do?

Have a back and forth about it in his head – ah it’s not so bad it’s still fine, but then again he really wanted it differently… but he doesn’t wanna bother them and be entitled about it, but man… :( Might get close to pointing it out but chances are slim that he’ll actually get someone to correct the order. It’ll be disappointing but he’ll eat it.  

C1) Does your OC have a moral code? If not, how do they base their actions? If so, where does it come from, and how seriously do they take it?

Eeeh, not a super strong one. His baseline are general societal morals and norms, like… help person good, kill person bad. Most of the time he’ll base his actions on what feels right for him and for his friends. He’ll consider: will doing this make me feel bad afterwards? Will it have a negative impact on other people, who don’t deserve it? Is that consequence worth it because it saves my own skin or helps/protects my friends?

C2) Would your OC feel bad if they acted against their morals? If not, would they find a way to excuse themselves for it?

Bringing back the point about sacrificing for the greater good. He’d consider that the morally right thing to do because it impacts fewer people negatively. But making that sacrifice endangers his friends, whose lives for him personally are worth much more than an abstract crowd of people. So he chooses to not do the thing for the greater good and save his friends instead, and yes, he would feel very bad on the one hand, because oh boy. As far as most people are concerned, he did a horrible terrible thing and was extremely selfish and absolutely chose wrong. But on the plus side, and that’s a very big huge plus- he still has his friends. And still having his friends makes him feel less bad than how he would have felt if he didn’t have his friends anymore.

So uh… yes and no.

C3) Is it important for them to be with people (socially, intimately, whatever) whose major ideological tenets align with their own?

More or less. He can’t hang out well with people he completely disagrees with in every way, of course that’s not going to work. But Hector is… how to say… kinda boring when it comes to ideals and opinions and all that stuff. He just doesn’t have very strong ones in general. Which can make him a little bland and potentially spineless, but also pretty agreeable. As long as they don’t constantly shove their great big opinions in his face, they’ll get along well enough.

C5) Do your OC’s morals and rules of common decency go out the window when it comes to those they don’t like, or when it’s inconvenient? Aka, are their morals situational?

I think I kind of answered this in C2. Basic morals do get thrown out the window if friends are threatened, or if he gets pissed off enough. He’d have to be really pissed off though. As well as being post having-grown-a-spine(-at-least-partially). Hurting people bad but being insufferable to Hector also bad so guess what fucker

C8) Is your OC more practical or ideal morally? I.e., do they hold people to high expectations of behavior even if it’s not realistic for the situation, or do they have a more realistic approach and adapt their morality to be more practical?

Again a little tricky because I’m having trouble coming up with a scenario that would help me make up my mind with a definite answer. I’m leaning more towards a practical approach 1) because Hector is more of a realist/pessimist in general, 2) he doesn’t want to like… be overly demanding

D4) Would they like to be immortal? Why, why not? If they are immortal, would they rather not be?

The more he thinks about it the more meaningless life seems to get for someone like him. Solution: don’t think about it! Repress that shit because it’s not like you can do anything about it anyway. Also an involuntary solution but one that helps nonetheless: have shit memory so that you don’t feel like you’ve lived too many lifetimes.

If you were to ask him, the answer you get completely depends on the headspace he’s in at the moment. If he’s just vibing, going about his day and things are going well then yeah! Immortality isn’t so bad. If you catch him on an off day, things aren’t going so well, maybe he just thought about having to deal with losing his friends eventually… then you obviously get the opposite answer.

E2) Which of the nine types of intelligence is your OC strongest in? Weakest? (Linguistic, existential, naturalist, et cetera)

I know I talked about this before and I grouped them from strong to medium to weak but I can’t for the life of me find the post anymore (thanks tumblr for your useless garbage search and tagging features). So I can’t even check if I’m still on the same wavelength with past me :v

From strongest to weakest we have…

Logical-mathematical

Spatial

Linguistic

Bodily-kinesthetic

Musical

Naturalist

Interpersonal

Existential

Intrapersonal

E3) How many languages do they speak?

Three… and a half.

The half language being Swiss German, because I don’t know what the fuck it is even after graduating from language uni

The others: Standard German, English, and French, from strongest to weakest.

E7) Are they a good note-taker? Are they a good test-taker? Do exams make them nervous?

Yes, yes, and yes. He’s very good at taking notes considering most of science is documentation. And even now when he’s not doing a lot of Formal Science things, he still writes in his journal almost daily, summing up events and making notes of important things. He gets nervous with tests with all the self doubt if he really prepared well enough and the unpredictability of the questions that will be asked, but once the pen is in his hand, he just blazes through it.

F2) What’s their ideal home look like? Where is it?

Someplace underground, safe and sturdy like a vault. Industrial aesthetic is welcome and he wants to have plenty of space, but it shouldn’t feel huge and empty. Needs to be homey, even if it might feel a little rustic to the average person. Having it built into a mountain would be sick, so he still has the perfect protection from the sun, but he doesn’t have to crawl out of a hole in the ground like some kind of worm – instead he opens the door and gets the most amazing view immediately.

… and I promise, only after writing the above did I remember that he pretty much lives in a mountain already, just a plastic one. Close enough.

F5) How handy are they? Can they fix appliances, cars, cabinets, et cetera?

Quite handy indeed. He can fix most things, he usually just needs some time to (re-)familiarize himself with the object and its functions. A lot of it also involves trial and error, but he’ll figure it out eventually.

F10) Do they engage in any of the arts? How good do you intend them to be? Would they agree they are?

He’d actually be really good at pen/pencil drawing, what with making technical illustrations and blueprints of Science Stuff, but it’s not a skill that’s applied in an artsy setting. When the goal is to draw for the sake of drawing, evoking emotion, or paint with a brush, that’s probably when shit would fall apart. I can’t remember who the artist was, but it reminds me of this little comic about Paladin Danse – in which he’s extremely good at technical drawings but then he attempts to draw a dog and it just looks…wrong.

Now with music, he’s more likely to engage in it in an artful way. He likes to sing, even if he very rarely does it now that he has people around him more often than not. Before, he’d just be alone in his lonely place and sing and scream to his heart’s content, but now he’s too awkward to do it, because someone might hear him. He is pretty good at it though, considering how much alone time he’s had to practice.

F12) Would they enjoy a theme park?

The rides and junk food? Yes absolutely. But the giant crowd and every little consequence it entails, nope, no thank you, he’ll just leave it be.

You bet he’s gonna go on the rides at nuka world though once they got them back up and working, because the crowd isn’t as big as pre-war and he’s the fucking overboss and can skip lines and restrict access to others however he damn pleases.

I6) Could they eat the same thing they enjoy over and over and not get bored of it quickly?

He can, but that doesn’t mean he enjoys it. The first month or so at nuka world he almost exclusively lives off of some shitty nutrient bars. In some scenarios, food just exists as sustenance and not as something to be enjoyed.

In a preferable scenario though, it is to be enjoyed. And I think while he would get bored of it after a while, it’d take longer than for the average person. And even then, he’s just happy he can eat something enjoyable at whatever pace he likes instead of having to scarf down Compressed Nutrient

L1) How have your characters changed since you created them?

He stopped existing in a void, which is a pretty damn big change. Now he has a whole world and other characters to interact with, that contribute to shaping and developing his personality.

L2) What do you consider the biggest themes in your character, if any?

Oof, this is hard. Maybe… getting to know yourself? Accepting change, personal growth?

L4) Would you hang out with your OC if you could?

I’m actually not sure sjdfsdnsv

Like yes he is sweet bean who must be protected, but that doesn’t change the fact that he is a weird little old man. I guess if we can just chill listening to music and he can go off about crustaceans or something and we speak The Horrible Language, why the fuck not

L9) How did you come up with your OC?

Masks cool. Me especially like gas masks. Unhinged science characters also cool. Make generic but still sliiiightly unique design and make it a point to not have him be a young pretty boy character despite having immortality. Add lots of weaknesses to compensate for the immortality. Add science personality things and complete the picture with projections of my own personality. Boom, you’ve got yourself the beginnings of a Hector

[draculaurennn]

1; jun 50; cress, 29; luc 43; pad 2-; fuu 10; siona

—Super detailed questions about your OCs— jun-ki — 1 ;; what’s their full name? why was that chosen? does it mean anything? Jun-ki’s full birth name is Tsutsumi Junko. She was born on the border of the Tokyo-Kanagawa prefecture and spent most of her childhood in Tokyo’s better hospitals. Most kids in her class, when she got to see them, just called her Jun. Jun-ki was a name assigned to her by the Fujiwara Technologies Oni-ki project, which she unwittingly paid her way into around the age of eighteen. Her full assigned name was Type-05 Jun-ki, following the four others who were built in her specific hybrid bio-tech format (depending on their degree of human degredation.) One was developed for each of the grand demons said to have been tamed by Fujiwara no Chikata, and each were designed with combat prowess and technique in consideration with that. Jun-ki’s was actually the only one to have no pre-existing oni, but she was not going to be the last in this project line. 

However, she abandoned the project by literally breaking her way out of headquarters before her complete redevelopment was complete. For some time, she operated under the online handle of Sxrapper Midori, and typically does not disclose either her project name, and even less so her birth name. She has, however, chosen to continue using Jun-ki as her identifying name. She feels it best represents her now, both herself and her reality. For Jun-ki, it represents her current state of degredation, a human beyond repair with an almost fully obsolete robotics system operating inside of her. It’s put together with scraps and junk, all of which she painstakingly harvested and reworked to continue powering her Fuji-tech without support from the company or its project. It represents her strength, as a berserker and front-line combatant, an ironically demon-like strength in her small, once-fragile body. Keeping it speaks to some semblance of her self-loathing and self-respect, all at once.

cressida — 50 ;; if they could only take one bag of stuff somewhere with them: what would they pack? what do they consider their essentials? Cressida is a very materialistic girl, so this is definitely a hard question. She values her intelligence and her appearance above all, and which she values more is not really clear. If she has them, immediate essentials for her bag are rouge and a kohl tin. Keeping her unruly curls under control is also important, and difficult without supplies. Secondary to those are a mother-of-pearl comb, pressed rose oil, and some herby hair powder. Those would probably be the most immediate options if the apothic suite of personal hygiene is not available to her (and, as Inquisitrix, it has often not been).

In terms of fashion, she’s not so vain that she feels she has to pack a different dress for every event of the day, thank the gods. In an immediate need to move, Cressida is fine with a change of clothes and something else to sleep in, as long as she’s given some opportunity to wash things. Otherwise, she does prefer two or three outfits. A hat is also an essential need, partly for fashion, but mostly to protect her very fair skin. (Luckily, if there’s no bag space, this can just go straight on her head.)

 The other bag essentials for Cressida are a journal, an entertaining book to read, a dagger, and a non-functional compass. Journaling helps her organize her thoughts for the day and plan her next steps, so often it looks like some bizarre mix between a diary, a day planner, and a to-do list. For books, she usually prefers novels of the picaresque sort, but she is prone to rereading the Black Fox tales over and over. Extra weapons as a given, the most unusual piece in her bag is of sentimental value, and she has done well to not lose it after sixteen years. It was her father’s nautical compass, which she’d stolen from his quarters to play with the night he passed away. She was lucky to have kept it in her pocket, though it was waterlogged when she finally got herself to shore, and no longer works. She keeps it in her travel bags for safe keeping, but if she isn’t sure her bag will be safe on its own, then it’s always removed and placed into her pocket instead.

lucid — 29 ;; what do they do when they find out someone else’s fear? do they tease them? or get very over protective? It could depend on the fear, but more than likely, a fear is something Lucid will keep to herself unless discussed with the person who possesses it. Somewhat frosty though she may appear, it has never been in her nature to hurt others or belittle them for the way they feel. That being said, she isn’t always the most tactful lady, and her attempts to address a problem (if the fear is really that critical) can often come off as hurtful or insensitive. Her other short-coming is her occasional inability to understand exactly what the fear or problem may be, which has led to accidental dismissal or downplay of the severity. But regardless of her fumbling ways, Lucid’s care and concern for others who would confide that information in her has always been with their best intentions at heart, and she would take the information to her grave if it was asked of her. Her nature is to protect and nurture first, and her determination to maintain love and trust for her companions can outweigh the value of her own life, at times.

padrika — 43 ;; are they religious? what do they think of religion? what do they think of religious people? what do they think of non religious people? Padrika’s family was religious. Her parents were casual worshippers of Verna, but she didn’t really live long enough to fully understand the concepts of religion or to make an executive decision on her beliefs. In Litwin, they had very little in the way of organized religion save for what drifted over from the Skelligan collections, but there was a small cult formation following the usurping ruler’s enthusiasm for Padrika’s visions, which was off-putting for her. It was never a fully developed religious practice, or anything, but idea of people putting such fantastic veneration in visions that were, in her opinion, just mystifying and unclear dreams from no one was scary. Most popular in this perception was Freya, goddess of clairvoyants, speaking words of conquest and glory through this unassuming water-being. Less common was her connection to Melusine, as a fellow siren (even if that was also incorrect.)

Unsurprisingly, religion tends to make her uneasy. She never, knowingly, lived with less erratic devotions. Litwin was a clutter in major part due to her own presence, which has caused Padrika to recoil from the concepts of greater beings out of fear. She wants no grand destiny, no great mission or job that she must fulfill for a greater god who hand-picked her for what she represented. She also doesn’t know if that means that divinity and monstrosity are something that are codependent or mutually exclusive. How do you explain a divine monster? Where is the line for goddess and a child who drowned in a mire?

All of that said, she doesn’t necessarily use that as a judge against others, nor does she fault people for having beliefs - Padrika also thinks that having no beliefs is a belief, and admittedly, she herself does believe there must be some strong presence in natural phenomenon. The greater questions of it are ones she just doesn’t feel keen on answering, or having an opinion on. Whether or not others do may be something that makes her wary, but it does not always define their character, and she can look past differences. A belief in something is not the only thing about others that makes them them. 

fuu — 20 ;; do they like musicals? music in general? what do they do when they’re favourite song comes? Fuu likes music to what she considers a normal extent. She was classically trained in piano as a child at her parents’ insistence, but her interest in that was passable since she didn’t find it engaging, and when she took up swim, she managed to weasel out of those lessons all together. She’s spent money on high-tech buds that actually work under water, and likes to listen to her favourites while she studies, works out, cleans, or is on her commute. (She’s also been known to put in earphones to avoid conversations she’s not engaged in or to deliberately ignore someone out of annoyance, boredom, or complete disagreement.) She isn’t the liveliest person in a lot of ways, and that extends to her musical enjoyment, though, but if the song is one she really enjoys, Fuu doesn’t mind turning the volume up over a speaker or tapping the piece out with her fingers. 

Despite that, her interest in musicals is practically non-existant.  Besides her struggle to sit through films, she finds the insertion of musical numbers in a narrative actually erases the tone the film was setting and breaks a greater immersion for her. They’re just jarring and almost upsetting, even if she understands most people don’t perceive them that way. She watches them at the behest of friends or if, for some reason, they’re assigned for an arts course, but otherwise will not pick one up or go see one of her own volition. 

siona — 10 ;; do they like children? do children like them? do they have or want any children? what would they be like as a parent? or as a godparent/babysitter/ect? Siona loves children, but most children don’t like her. She tends to find children charmingly curious, thought-provoking, and squeezable. However, Siona is often perceived as one of two things by children - a fairy or a monster, and depending on the local perception of fairies, both can be bad things. In Castle Town she was very uncomfortably received by local children (and adults, but that’s par for the course at this point), though in Vazaar, many of the little girls thought her small stature and pale hair meant she was just a sickly Gerudo sister. 

Siona has never personally given children much thought. The circumstances floating around her existence have been a little more pressing and dire, and trying to lead a life of some sense of normalcy hasn’t been at the forefront of her imagination. But if asked, she’d certainly be agreeable, and Siona’s cautiously optimistic, adventurous, but ironically grounded disposition makes her a very loving and communicative mother-figure. Alongside that, her protective nature is counterbalanced by her indecisiveness, allowing her child to explore and experience while still receiving guidance when asked or needed.

[kosmosian-quills]

OC Backstory Holiday Special

A little something I wrote for @yourocsbackstory​‘s holiday special! I think I’m on time with this one, and it’s not my best work but I love my girls and that’s all that matters.

I hope you enjoy!

POV: Anjelika

The normally brisk and chilly ballroom is full of life, warmth and colour.

The cool stone walls are decorated with our sigil, the royal colours are proudly hanging between the huge windows that – in daylight – would stream sunlight in to every corner and crevice. But now, all that is visible through the vast windows is the cloudy night sky, the snowflakes fluttering down from the heavens down to the earth, settling on everything they can touch, building up from one another.

The four fireplaces are all lit, illuminating the space with its warming glow, a few spots visible in the twinkling chandeliers. For such a grand affair, we of course have more lights. Suited to the aesthetic of a party – slightly dimmed lights, yet enough to see everything in the room without straining one’s vision.

I was seated at the head table to my father’s left, with my mother on his other side, watching the festivities unfurl before us. Music echoing through the room and down the corridors, our distinguished guests mingling around in groups, or seated at their tables around the outside of the room. There were a few guests dancing in the large open space in the centre of the room, laughing and smiling as they swirled and twirled around in large, sweeping circles. All in time with one another, all perfectly in unison. They look to be enjoying themselves, which is always a nice thing to see.

I look over to my left, slightly over my shoulder. My friends were seated together at their own table, not too far from me of course, but they had no reason to be seated with us at the head table. As soon as I have finished here with father, I shall join them.

Our “Festyn Zimowy” is not just about family, it is about friends and comradery. My friends do not have the benefit of celebrating with their families tonight, so the least I can do is extend them the courtesy of celebrating with them too.

I wasn’t paying attention to father as he spoke with someone who had just approached, my eyes were scanning the crowd and taking notice of the older gentlemen near the refreshments table before I realised that the person he was talking to was trying to involve me in the conversation as well.

It was the General, and he was looking at me with slightly raised eyebrows as though he had asked a question. He was, despite the festivities, dressed in his formal uniform, still adorned in medals and badges that served as evidence of his dedication and service. Father and mother are looking at me too, a slight hint of disapproval in mother’s eyes as she looks at me. I imagine it’s because of my daydreaming.

“Oh, my apologies, General,” I sit up straight in my seat and turn my body to face him.

“Not at all, your highness. I was merely asking your father if I may dance with you?” He explained with a smile, nodding towards my father.

I was certainly surprised at the invitation. I look across at my father, whose expression told me nothing – remaining decidedly neutral. Is this some sort of test? It seems… wrong. It seems unnatural. Like a trick question, am I supposed to just agree to his request? Or am I supposed to stand my ground and refuse of my own accord?

Father would not be waiting for me to even speak if he did not approve in any capacity. After all, the General is one of my father’s trusted confidantes. I don’t see why I shouldn’t. Besides, it does seem a little rude of me when I am not doing anything else at this moment.

“Of course, General,” I slowly rise to my feet, stepping around the side of the table to join him, making sure that I do have the smile I’m known for on my face.

He takes my hand carefully, his tall stature a little unnerving, but nonetheless a comfort with that charming smile of his, as he turns back to face my father over his shoulder.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of your daughter, your majesties,” there’s a chuckle in his voice, and I look back at my parents as he does.

Father is amused, returning him a laugh. Mother is smiling too.

I find myself in the centre of the crowd of dancers, with one of his hands on my shoulder blade, and the other in my own hand. He spun me around in time with the music, the soft pulsating beats of the drums that accompany the strumming strings of the violins. It all wove together seamlessly, and the General knew what he was doing more than I did.

I found it strange to try and look in his eyes, the way he would use that oh so charming smile of his to cut deep into my thoughts.

“So, your highness,” his voice is low and just audible above the music, whispering into my ear as he leans in close, “are you enjoying the festivities?”

“Of course, General,” I reply, tilting my head upwards slightly so that I can speak into his ear.

The gentle circles we’re spinning here are nice, almost therapeutically rhythmic, with the occasional swirl under his arm, breaking the monotony a little bit. It gave me the chance to cast my gaze towards my parents, still seated at the head table, and watching us here. Father was leaned towards mother, speaking aside to her, and I knew he was because I could see mother responding. It was rather embarrassing, I must admit, that I am dancing with a man with my father watching. It just seems strange, father probably would not have approved were it anyone else.

But then again, no one else has ever asked.

I didn’t seem completely aware of the time passing in this strange space, until the music rose to a crescendo and faded out.

We weren’t the only dancers here, but our cue to stop was here, and we joined in with the light applause that came as our gratitude to the performers.

My partner bows down before me, “I wish you all the best for the coming year, your highness. Wszelkiej pomyślności, Krolewna.” He doesn’t break his eye contact with me, his silver eyes sparkling in the firelight.

“And to you, General,” I courtesy in return, as he escorts me back towards my table, except I do not move to re-join my parents. I acknowledge them, and proceed beyond them, to my friends over there.

My chaperone has not been unnoticed however.

“Andzia, how scandalous!” Irena whispered with a grin, getting to her feet with the others as I huddled close to Kasia. “There’ll be rumours for weeks!”

“Oh please, it will be the most interesting rumours in a while!” I whisper back, giggling with them quietly, trying not to raise my voice too much.

But it’s only when I look back across the happy faces around me, that I realise there’s one of us missing.

“Where’s Matylda?” I ask, looking around.

There’s a moment where everyone else seemed to realise that she was not with us either. There’s Kasia and Irena on either side of me, with Anja and Zosia opposite us.

“She… said she was just going to get a drink, I think –“ Irena started, looking towards the refreshment table, but I cut her off when my eyes scanned the crowd and recognised the sunshine blonde curls on the outside of the room.

“I see her.” My smile vanished when I realised who was stood next to her.

She was stood up against the wall by a fireplace, looking up at the man engaging with her, an uncomfortable smile on her lips, clutching at both her dress, and the drink she was holding in her hand. I could see, even from here, the fact that her knuckles were white from holding them so hard. She hadn’t noticed me, but I could tell she was desperate to just walk away from him.

I made sure to put my polite smile on my face as I prepared myself to deal with my predatory cousin.

“Matylda!” I called out, not even looking at my dear elder cousin, but he did back away from her by a single step. Matylda herself had faced me, her eyes wide, yet relieved that I have arrived when I did. “There you are, we were looking for you –“ she didn’t need further prompting to step around my cousin and towards me, with the others right behind me. I linked her arm in mine and took off with everyone. “- we were just going to go for a walk. Come on.”

With every one of us pointedly ignoring my cousin.                          

Because none of us will even give him the satisfaction of our attention. All we want is our friend away from him

If no one else will stop him, we will.

I didn’t even care where we were going. In fact, we looked like we were leaving the hall entirely, like we were leaving the party without acknowledgement. That would be most rude of me, and no doubt cause me to get in trouble. I made a slight diversion beyond the door that would take me back to the residential wing, and instead towards the glass door further along. The door that leads out into the gardens.

It’s more private and secluded that way.

The pair of guards in front of them stood aside for me and opened the door, and the six of us stepped out into the sheltered patio area just outside the door.

It was cold outside, but not too cold. It was actually quite nice out here in the fresh air, the crisp breeze was gentle and refreshing. There wasn’t any snow on our platform, thank goodness, but seeing the fluffy white blanket the covered everything around us was fascinating, how it clung to everything and was so preciously untouched, undisturbed.

We won’t be disturbing that tonight, no matter how much I would like to.

“Are you alright Laleczka?” I heard Irena ask as we all formed a small circle in the middle of the patio.

“I am, thank you. Thank you for coming for me,” she nodded at Irena, but then faced all of us in turn. She was still holding that glass, yet her grip was no longer an unbearable tightness, but a gentle grasp.

“Anytime, Laleczka,” I smile in return, “we all know he can be an insufferable person. I didn’t want to see you alone with him.”

She nodded again.

“Let’s not let him dampen our spirits,” Kasia speaks next, huddling close to all of us. “It’s a beautiful night. Wszystkiego najlepszego, everyone.”

“Dużo zdrowia,” Zosia is the one to offer her wishes next, holding her hands with Kasia – who was in between us – and Anja on her other side.

“Dużo miłości,” Anja is the one to continue the cycle.

“Dużo szczęścia,” Irena presses her glasses up her nose as she says it.

“Wszelkiej pomyślności,” Matylda runs one of her hands up her arm repeatedly.

I look at the smiling faces of my friends, all watching me. I can feel the chill hit me now, we shouldn’t stay out here for too much longer.

But I don’t want this moment to ever end.

“Oddanych przyjaciół.”

Lots of health, love, happiness – all kinds of prosperity – and dedicated friends.

It’s been another wonderful year together with them. I just hope we can continue our little streak.

[so-shiny-so-chrome]

Witness: B_Kilroy

 ThCreator name (AO3): B_Kilroy

Creator name (Tumblr): brian-kilroy

Link to creator works: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B_Kilroy/pseuds/B_Kilroy/works?fandom_id=51060

Q: Why the Mad Max Fandom?

A: I was just instantly drawn to it after seeing Mad Max: Fury Road for the first time.  The movie was incredible, from the imagery to the people, from the story we see to the story we have to piece together ourselves.  I was no stranger to fanfiction since I had written and read it in the past, so when I thought "I need to get more of this," I knew where to go.  Being more internet savvy than I was several years ago meant that I was able to find more places and people who engaged in the fandom, which in turn allowed me to become more engaged, and do more for this fandom than the ones I had been a part of before.

Q: What do you think are some defining aspects of your work? Do you have a style? Recurrent themes?Which of your works was the most fun to create? The most difficult? Which is your most popular? Most successful? Your favourite overall?

A: I think even though I didn't write much for it, "Through The Looking Glass" was the most fun to create, because the goal was to take the entirety of Mad Max and reframe it with Furiosa and Max being able to contact each other through their dreams.  It's fun to take that and view events through a different lens, or use one character to advise the other and shove the story in different directions.  After a while, these changes would have stacked up, but it would have amounted to a serious overhaul of character and plot through four movies.  

The most difficult fic was "Ear to the Ground," namely because it was a gift so I couldn't bounce the idea back off of its source to talk about it.  At a certain point I pretty much stalled, and that combined with the time constraints of the exchange were some serious stressors.  I've stalled many times in many fics, but this was the most difficult one to conquer.   

 My most popular, successful, and favorite fic to work on is by and large "Runaway."  I can't truly speak for why, but I believe its relative longevity and the AU concept of Fury Road essentially never happening was what earned some attention.

Q: How do you like your wasteland? Gritty? Hopeful? Campy? Soft? Why?

A: I like a good mix of gritty and hopeful, though it does depend on what sort of fic I'm writing.  I think we've all seen enough to know that you can't have good without the bad, but we also know that sometimes it's very possible to basically go about your business as long as you're smart about it.  Sometimes, the characters don't have that option.  I enjoy having a diverse world so characters can have a multitude of experiences.

Q: Walk us through your creative process from idea to finished product. What's your prefered environment for creating? How do you get through rough patches?

A: My creative process really varies.  Often, I just start writing.  Only after I have some stuff written down do the gears really start turning about the future.  As I work, sometimes I'll put down specific lines I want to use, or scenes I want to see, or a general rough outline.  The best thing I've done in this regard is have an outline set for "Runaway" and use the first posting of "Royce" as a first draft.  The best way to create is to have something set out in front of you, so you know where Point B is, and it's just a matter of getting there. 

 When I wrote in college, it was pretty much wherever I could snag a seat.  A handful of my old fics started in the very back of a State Government lecture hall.  As time went on, I wrote in the student center or in a dorm lobby or just somewhere I could sit down that felt vaguely productive.  At home, it's in my dark room with some music on. 

 Rough patches often signal a break in writing.  I'll typically go to another fic to work on, but recently having trouble means walking away completely.  For me, the only way to get through rough patches means sitting down and writing.  It can be a word, a sentence, or a paragraph, and any amount is fine.  All that matters is that I get the gears going, because there's no progress if I don't think about it.

Q: What (if any) music do you listen to for help getting those creative juices flowing?

A: I'll listen to a general playlist I've wrangled together if I'm writing for Maxiosa, and that can sort of get me in the mood - namely, some DJ Shadow or some Radiohead, though a lot of artists are one-offs.  For other fics, or moments where I need a specific tone, I can turn to more energetic music and scratch that itch.

Q: What is your biggest challenge as a creator?

A: Inspiration and drive is my biggest challenge.  Nowadays, I don't really have inspiration unless it just somehow *comes* to me - which will often be around 1 AM which leaves a lot to be desired.  A lot of writing also came out of emotional distress, which thankfully I don't really experience anymore, but that means finding some other sort of fuel to write from.

Q: How have you grown as a creator through your participation in the Mad Max Fandom? How has your work changed? Have you learned anything about yourself?

A: I've definitely grown in terms of how I write.  I sort of cringe at how I first wrote a lot of my stuff, which resulted in some works being removed or re-worked.  My writing has done a lot better in terms of - well, I don't cringe at it as much.  I'm more confident in what I write and how.  It's a more mature style that I can reflect on as an era of writing separate from what I wrote when I was younger.  In short, it's better.  

Have I learned anything about myself?  Can't quite say.

Q: Which character do you relate to the most, and how does that affect your approach to that character? Is someone else your favourite to portray? How has your understanding of these characters grown through portraying them?

A: I'd say I relate to Max the most.  I understand being alone and avoiding people.  That's oversimplifying it, but I sympathize with him the most.  This allows me to write him if not accurately, then it helps me write him well.  Writing characters in general, while I'm not writing canon material, allows me to think of them as more than what they've done on the screen.  It allows me to think of them as complex characters.  I fill out the blanks left on the screen and it helps make them whole.

Q: Do you ever self-insert, even accidentally?

A: Definitely.  "Royce" is by-and-large a self-insert, and I think it pretty much says so on the can.  It became a great way to explore what I would do in such a world, but I feel like doing self-inserts in the right way can be an excellent method to explore parts of the story that we don't usually see.  

Q: How does your work for the fandom change how you look at the source material?

A: It allows me to form a more complete image of the before, during, and after.  It may not be canonical, but I can appreciate the movie as more than just a slice of the world.  I think about everything happening behind the scenes - what's happening at the Citadel, in the War Party, in the wreckage following the battle of the Fury Road.  Instead of asking questions about what happened and what will happen, I form answers.

Q: Do you prefer to create in one defined chronology or do your works stand alone? Why or why not?

A: I enjoy the concept of trying to fit all my fics into one world, because 1) it breeds continuity, 2) it breeds opportunities for the future, and 3) it's just fun.  Not only do you have the source material, but using what you create helps you get more familiar and comfortable with the characters.  Writing for standalone fics means you have to resort to a different mindset for these characters, though some may enjoy that, so more power to them.

Q: To break or not to break canon? Why?

A: Both is fun.  I have canon-compliant and canon-divergent fics and they both have their benefits and drawbacks in terms of familiarity and "give" in terms of what you want to do.  

Q: If you work with OCs walk us through your process for creating them. Who are some of your favourites?

A: If they are proper OCs with no real inspiration, I start with basically envisioning them in my mind.  What are their names and what do they look like?  What is their purpose?  What is their past, and do you want that to factor into what they do in the present and future?  It doesn't have to be a whole lot if they're minor characters, but the more you do means you have more to play with.  You can add complexity to a character or just use them as a means to an end.  

My favorite OC has to be Royce just because of how I know Royce ends up, and how he's used as a storytelling tool.

Q: Who are some works by other creators inside and outside of the fandom that have influenced your work?

A: Owlship has had a direct influence on my work - I've snagged quite a few prompts from her and I've been inspired at least directly by "the centre cannot hold;".  While I can't say I really look up to anyone else as an influence, I definitely give props to Weirdness_Unlimited for taking off running with "To Love Reptiles" and their OC work, and giving me inspiration to keep going with mine.  I quite literally went through every single fic that looked good to me when I first found MMFR so I can't really point anything out that has influenced me except for the creativity of the community as a whole.

Q: Tell us about a current WIP or planned project.

A: Runaway is the big WIP I'm staring down right now.  I've been bogged down in terms of having a hard time writing thought and reflection instead of action.  I've probably said it a hundred times, but I do have an outline set up for the fic which would go pretty far if written for completely.  Anyone reading it can expect something interesting in the next few chapters.   I do have another WIP or two in my pocket that I'll abstain from talking about, but they'll be little one shots.  One's a bit of pre-canon, another's post-canon which is the one I'm favoring.  There's still gears turning, no matter how small, and I hope to get stuff going again soon.

@b-kilroy thank you for your time. 

[sukunas-play-thing]

Selim (My Hero Academia Introduction)

Ominous. If Thats how I could describe what I'm feeling right now that would be it. Watching trees and farmlands disappear past my window as I drove for what seemed like hours while Mother navigated. I rolled my eyes when mother groaned out that we missed a turn. For the fifth time. Moving to Japan would make anyones day. But for us, its a getaway. A fresh sheet of paper for a novel. Our way of wiping the slate clean and starting anew. Why are we moving to japan you ask?. Because i messed up big time in america. And moving seems to just be an excuse to run away. This place is hero capital. And I hate it.

When i first developed my quirk, mother said that I'd be the making of greatness, and be a great contributor to society.

"But mommy, Daddies a hero. Isn't he supposed to be the one to give greatness?."

I had asked her one time after turning 5. I watched as her face twisted in discomfort. I was much too young to want or decide to be a hero at the time, and as the years progressed and the more a grew. The more the thought of being a hero slipped past me. Thats the life we lived, father was a great hero according to news and media outlets. But behind closed doors things were different. After years of suffering under his reign of aggressive behavior and many hospital visits later mother finally put her foot down and said "Enough is Enough." And took me with her. He wanted me to join the ranks as hero, and he felt that mother was the cause of me deciding against it. He felt that she was a liar and a cheat. But she would never do such things. She loved him but she loved me more. The one human that should get the finger pointed towards under that category is my fathers brother. Hoyt. He cheated his family out of money and was never there when they needed him most, he lied under oath as a hero to protect and serve. Only to use his title as a gateway to do heinous things when the cameras weren't looking. They were the reason why I feel most heroes are not the real deal,

"But heroes are good people! They are selfless and caring and save those in need! They would never do bad!."

More like selfish is the word. Now I am not sitting here saying all heroes are bad. The one hero worthy of such title is the first real hero we had in America. All Might. The symbol of peace. Fighting when you're not required to is the essence of a true hero. He taught me that. Nowadays people get quirks and jump the bandwagon just to get a paycheck.

And those types don't have the sheer will and determination as those who do it for the right reasons. Uncle Hoyt and my father. Are the prime examples. See my mother is a witch. Her side of the family never really developed quirks much, but had a more psychic ability. She's a clairvoyant. And her gift was passed down to me aside from the occasional murmurs of peoples thoughts mending into my mind, her whole family tree were filled with witches. Dateing back to the Salem Witch trials and for generations they strived and struggled to be accepted into what majority called "Normal." That is until quirks came into the equation. Nowadays a witches natural abilities are quickly buncked as quirks more or less. And completely ignores where the powers really came from.

See all humans have the ability to tap into the spirit world and their halls, especially those strong enough to pick it up. Like an electrical current. They may not have the ability to harden their skin like steal or move heavy rubble or cars out of the way. But it was there. Its always been there. Now people have blinders on, to where they only see Whats physically manifested and what they consider a quirk. Eligible to being a hero. And that's what people seem to mostly focus on. My mother is a resident witch, and has her own business selling tarot cards, herbs, spices, potions anything and everything that cures headaches to rheumatism. Thats why father hates my mom. He believes she's filling my head with nonsense. But it isn't true, I prefer the humble life as a witch than one whose face gets plastered on lunchboxes and media. I want to choose this life as is as a witch. Not a hero.

((So this did NOT turn out as well as it did the first time around and a blame tumblr for being crazy on that part. But this is an introduction sheet for Selim my OC and partly her mother Greta who moves to Japan for a fresh start at the bitter age of 18. This is mostly in her point of view and how she sees the world and how she feels. And I haven't written for about 4 to 5 years and its been a struggle for me getting back in the game. It may seem confusing at the moment and I've been working on a temp story just haven't been able to work out alot of details yet, but this is just to get me started for now. And if and when i do begin writting a full story or short drabble is when the story will progress deeper. Now her father is not like endeavour he doesn't abuse Selim into being his successor, but more or less has an oversized ego and makes him out to be high and mighty for his unheard of quirk in America. Selim is from a Scandinavian/Scottish viking family and their quirks manifested as those mythical creatures you'd read from mythology books. Very High class in the eyes of quirk users and society. Her mother side is pagan/celtic line of witches and like I said in the introduction never developed quirks. Only natural psychic abilities. Greta is the shit and i cannot wait for you guys to offically meet her. I love her to pieces. Also Let me know what you all think ! I take constructive critism! And I am open to you guys giving me ideas, theories and all in all how too. I love having my readers engaged. Im super nervous and I hope this was alright. Unfortunately the first time writting it sounded way better but had technical difficulties and had to re write. Hope you guys enjoyed and thank you all so much!)) Blessed Be Everyone ♍💜💜

[thejokersenigma]

Joker x OC - Strictly Business Part 1

Hi guys, so this was a request I was given at the beginning of the week:

Hi there! I have a request if you don't mind ;) How about Joker got obsessed with a married woman? I'm just dying to see what he's going to do. I don't want to limit your imagination, but still a little application... I just see that marriage was more like marriage of convenience in a good way. Maybe this woman and her husband are like business partners too.

There were a few particular they wanted, but that would make this a long post (longer than usual) so I'll leave it at that!

After beginning to write this I figured it would be better as a 2-3 part piece, and as the Anon didn't specify if this was suppose to be a oneshot or not I've decided to spilt it up (otherwise it would be huge because I'm really bad at writing small pieces of work! haha

Anyway, hope you enjoy it!

Thank you to the Anon for the asking for the request - I hope it's what you were after - let me know if it's not and I can try again!

Masterlist

Strictly Business MASTERLIST

  I shuffled together the mass of papers that were splayed out over the expanse of my desk, shoving them into a neater pile and tapping them on the flat surface until they were inline, then placed them to the side of me.

I straightened up, hyperextending my back and feeling the ache ring through my muscles – maybe I ought to take up Yoga again – hunching over a desk wasn’t helping my posture or my back.

I pushed myself to my feet, the sun already beginning to fade behind the skyscrapers that filled the view from my large office window. It was getting late and I needed to get going.

I picked up my now-uniform pile of papers and nestled them into the crook of my arm, moving around my desk and heading for the door, grabbing my handbag and coat from the hook on the back of the door.

I locked the office up behind me, dropping the keys into the expanse of my back, before straightening myself out and walking the brief distance across the open floor of offices to the only other room as large as mine on this floor - and the entire building – my husband’s.

I knocked smartly on his door, pausing only a moment before I heard the faint acceptance into the room and I pushed the door open.

Though the room was as large as mine, it was decorated completely differently. Whilst mine took on a more modern look and was decorated to look sleek with its metals and sharp edges, Mathew’s took a more traditional, old-fashion design of dark wooden furniture and dim lighting – as close to a hunting lodge as he could get.

My eyes met my husband’s first when I walked into the room, he sat behind the large dark oak desk, his attention momentarily diverted from the folder in front of him. I gave him a small smile of greeting before turning my attention to his visitors who sat on matching dark leather armchairs on the opposite side. I nodded to them in greeting and they returned warm welcomes, knowing full well who I was.

“My apologies, gentlemen.” I said quickly, striding past them to my husband, who stood up to greet me. “Just some last-minute paperwork before I get ready for the gala tonight.” I explained handing the papers over to Mathews waiting hand.

“Off already?” He asked, surprised.

Ah Mathew – always the one to burn the midnight oil.

“It’s already getting dark.” I pointed, knowing full well he probably hadn’t looked at the time for at least 3 hours – too busy wrapped up in meetings or papers to ever look around his environment. He could work in the sewer and not care as long as the work kept coming in – it made me wonder why he’d bothered with such a nice office space. “Besides, I have to make sure everything is running smoothly,” I said, with a smile at the men sat across from me then smile in agreement, “and then I have to get ready myself – not all of us can just throw on a suit and turn up.” I added with a wink in the direction of the other men who chortled at my teasing.

“Fine, fine.” Mathew brushed me off with a slight hand gesture, too busy for my gentle ribbing right now and already flicking through the papers I had given him, his mind quickly becoming lost in them. “I’ll see you this evening then?” He asked, but I could tell he was already lost in the documents, so I gave him a small nod and headed for the door. “St. George’s?” Mathew suddenly called out to me and I turned to see him looking at me. I nodded again – his memory for things other than work rather poor. “Tonight then.” He said, half to himself, immediately re-immersing into his reading. over the corner of the dark wood desk to.

I gave a small smile to the other men and left the room.

I spent the rest of my evening darting around the venue for the gala later that night, checking the alcohol had arrived, the servers present, the decorations in place and any other little problem that was handed to me. It was a bit later than I hoped that I finally headed back to my flat. I spent the last few hours getting myself dolled up and ready to host, whilst also answering the phone that continued to ring for my attention – I never stopped working.

Work ruled my life now. It hadn’t always. I used to be young and foolish, carefree like many others in their 20’s. But then reality had hit me at 21 when I lost both my parents and soon found myself without any money. That had been a cold hard slap in the face at a time where I was used to having spare cash to throw around as I pleased. Suddenly I was forced to work to survive and I could no longer afford to be frivolous or waste my time on anything but improving my prospects.

But now I was better off than I had ever been – I made more money than anyone in my family had ever done, thanks to now owning one of the largest business in Gotham, rivalled only really now by Wayne Enterprises.

Yet I still worked constantly.

There had been a time when I was taunted by my colleagues for never 'letting my hair down', but I had simply regarded them as childish, they didn’t know me – no one really did, I had no friends left from the tie before my parent’s death – and no one could understand what my work meant to me.

I think I found enjoyment in it. In my work.

Before it had been a way to get money, to survive and then to be comfortable, and then secure.

Then it had become a coping mechanism to deal with the tragedy in my life, I had kept myself buried in the work load from the start to keep my mind busy on anything but what I had lost.

Now it thrilled me – the tense waiting for a deal to come through, the rush when you pulled off the biggest merger, the power of manipulation of those who hadn’t been in the game long enough to realise they could be so easily swayed by a few choice words.

It kept me going.

If I didn’t have my work - if I stopped for even a moment – I would surely collapse under the weight of everything I had been putting off for so long.

 After applying the last touch to my makeup I grabbed my clutch and shrugged a thin shawl over my shoulders, before I headed out into the night. I hailed a cab and sat silently in the back, tapping away at my phone and relishing in the peace behind I had to endure a night of socialising.

 I wasn’t a huge people person. I dealt with them because I had to, not because I wanted to - If I could have it my way it would be just my job and me, no one else. Not even Mathew.

Maybe that was why I didn’t mind manipulating and conning people the way I did, and maybe that was why I didn’t care that I never went out, my social life only comprising events like tonight - which was really just another night of working for me. After all, it was events like tonight where all the huge deals were make - there was at least one merger that hung in the balance this evening.

So that’s how I tricked myself into putting up with these things – it was just a large, slightly oddly laid out, meeting room, full of people to be seduced and persuaded into giving me their money and their businesses.

My problem was, few other people saw it like this.

And that’s how I ended up where I currently was.

I had entered the large venue room relatively late for the hostess and worked my way around a few of the groups of businessmen and socialites, chatting away where necessary, laying the foundation for further, more serious talks later. Eventually I had found my husband on the other side of the room, already engaged in a deep conversation with a couple of Bruce Wayne’s employees.

I had strode up to them, greeting the group of men warmly. Mathew had given me a small peck on the cheek – the obligatory mark of a man greeting the woman he was lawfully wedded to – no romance and little tenderness in the gesture, simply something to keep up the show of our relationship.

I had stood with them for a while, happily chatting about the ever elusive Mr. Wayne and how their company fared with the recent drop in certain stocks and rises in other areas, both of the sides staying just as closed up and carefully as the other.

If I could stay speaking to the men all night like this, these evenings were generally fine – all of us enjoying the discussions of numbers and profits. However, all too often I was singled out by my gender and driven over to the other women in the room – the businessman’s wives.

These ladies had no idea what a profit margin was or the difference between fixed and variable costs and instead insisted on talking about their family lives and the gossip amongst the rest of their little group.

My problem was, I didn’t care that Junior had just started walking, or Mary had just made it to high school, I didn’t care that Mark had just proposed to Sue or that James seemed bored of Kim. I had no interest in children – other peoples or my own – and I didn’t care about romantic partners – despite marrying Mathew.

But that had never been romantic – it had never been for ‘love’.

When I was younger my parents had always pushed that they wanted me married, and I had fallen for everything a young naïve child does about love at first sight and the hopes of being swept off my feet by a handsome stranger across the room.

Of course, that had gone with the rest of my foolishness after my parents had passed, but the question of marriage never seemed to leave the conversation - in fact, as I got older, the question of my single-hood became more and more repetitive.

That was about the time I had met Mathew. He had been in charge of a company of similar size to my own and we had been on the war path for quite some time - always trying to outdo one another. I had seen nothing there but two businesses fighting it out to be on the top.

Mathew had not.

After a particularly heated meeting between our two sides he had pulled me aside and waved a white flag, asking me to drinks that evening. I had seen it as a chance to ply him with alcohol and get some information from him and had accepted.

Information was not what I got however. I got a marriage proposal.

I thought it had been ridiculous at the time  – a simple whim from the man after too many whiskeys. But - ever being a business woman - I had not turned him down straight away. I let the offer linger.

The next few days I had considered my options, planned and reworked every outcome possible from the different sides of this ‘deal’ as I called it. I couldn’t see a reason not to say yes – if he agreed to my conditions.

And so, we had struck a deal. Our companies would merge, both of us would be joint, equal partners with it, and I would marry him - thereby removing the pressure of society off my back.

I never truly understood what he got from it – had he wanted the companies merged? Surely there was another way around other than marrying me? Had he ‘loved’ me? I was never sure and I still wasn’t sure of anything but that he definitely didn’t ‘love’ me anymore.

“So, any sign of children on the horizon for you, Leah?” The voice forced me to focus back in on the conversation around me as the 3 elegantly dressed women in front of me chattered away. This was the new repetitive question to replace that of marriage.

For the millionth time I shook my head, “We’re both so busy people.” I explained, “We don’t think it would be fair.”

“Me and Harvey thought that initially, but our nanny is perfect!” Explained the tall, stick thin woman to my right. I nodded and smiled as the conversation now switched to everyone’s current or previous nanny and nursery services.

I downed my glass and excused myself for a new drink, making my way over to one of the many small tables laid out with refreshments, in case the servers were busy elsewhere. I grabbed a fresh glass of champagne and found myself stood by the entrance to the vast room, hidden away from the pressing crowd behind a pillar.

I sipped at my drink, watching the tendrils of bubbles swirl and waltz in my champagne, as I recuperated from the suffocating mass of bodies.

A movement to my right caught my eye and I turned my head to see a man walking through the large double door entrance way to the room. He wore a tuxedo that fitted his frame perfectly, with no tie or bowtie and the top few buttons of his shirt undone to leave the muscles around his neck clearly visible. He carried a cane with him, occasionally using it, but mainly swinging it at his side in his white gloved hands.

This is in itself was unusual, but was not what initially caught my eyes. No, my eyes had been dragged by his long vibrant green hair that was slicked neatly back in place and the bright red lips that were only emphasised by his very pale, almost alabaster skin.

I couldn’t seem to look away from him, I was too intrigued by his appearance and the power he seemed to just exude as he stood there surveying the room. There was something very odd about him and I was certain he couldn’t have been on the guest list – so how did he get in?

He looked almost bored as he glared out into the room. He held himself different from anyone else, with a vast amount of self-confidence that suggested he was far more important than any of the other millionaires in the room and he seemed to be almost assessing the room, like a lion assessing a herd of prey. The look in his eyes made me shiver.

The movement seemed to catch his eye and his gaze darted straight to mine. I was used to people trying to stare me down to intimidate me - and I was good at holding my own -but the intensity of the look he gave me seemed to burn my eyes and the itch to drop my gaze was agonizing.

He started to step toward me, and even his walk was different, it was precise and graceful and it felt like he was stalking me. It was only as he got closer that his appearance became stranger, he didn’t have any eyebrows, and there was a ‘Damaged’ written in cursive on his forehead and a small J under his left eye.

“Well hello there...” He growled, eyeing me up and down, swinging his cane as he approached. “Aren’t you… Beautiful…” He snarled, his voice sounding sinful and - though I scowled at his vulgarity - I wasn’t nearly as disgusted as I should have been, instead I could feel my temperature rise by a few degrees. He held my gaze a bit longer, the icy blue seeming to trap me.

“Why don’t you be a doll, doll, and go get the man in charge.” He purred at me, breaking the eye contact off and surveying the crowded room.

"You’re looking at her, doll.” I mimicked, not amused by his patronising comment.

He raised his invisible eyebrows at me, “Hmm,” The pale man seemed to consider me with interest, “Fiery little cracker aren't ya, doll?” He asked, stepping closer towards me with a sneer on his face. I read the power play in his movements, many a man having tried this on me before - even Matt had attempt it when we first met. I stood my ground, reminding myself repeatedly that I could have this man thrown out of here easily – though I would prefer not to make a scene.

“No, sir.” I replied firmly, not amused by his childish mocking, “ I am just a woman hosting an important business gala with a very strict guest list. And I am certain that no child entertainers were required.” I told him sternly, eyeing him up and down with a look of distaste - though I had to admit some of it was forced - the sight in front of me not wholly unappealing.

The man’s upper lip curled at my comment, “Oh I can show you entertainment doll,” He purred threateningly, stepping even closer.

“Another step, and security will be in this room in less than 2 seconds, I guarantee it.” I warned him fiercely, standing tall and confident in my heels, determined now not give in under his intense blue stare.

He didn’t come any closer, but he also didn’t retreat, he just stood, a wide grin now stretching across his face and showing metal caps on the visible teeth, the shiny surface glinting in the overhead lights.

“So, tell me doll…” He growled lowly, placing his cane in front of him and leaning over on it so he came closer to me without taking a step, I scowled at him. “Who are you?”

“Who are you, and why are you here?” I asked instead, not willing to play his little game.

He grinned at me, “You don’t watch a lot of news do ya, doll?” He asked, a knowing gleam in his eyes that I didn’t like. I scowled at him moodily, “jeez doll, are you always this grumpy? He asked with a hint of mocking in his tone. “Won’t give without a take, hmm?” he asked with a tilt of his head, “Alright doll, first you, then me.”

I stared at him coldly, still refusing to be ordered around by this unusual man.

“Fine!” He moaned dramatically, exaggerating his eyes roll at my stubbornness. “I'll start.” He said, “I'm here to rob the place.”

At first, I thought this was just more of his seemingly twisted humour, but he sounded so serious…

“I'm calling security.” I stated, no longer wanting to put up with this strange man, and I made to move past him, heading towards the  service phone I knew was out in the hallway.

“Ah ah ah, doll.” He tutted at me, swinging his arm out to catch me as I strode past him. He was stronger than his thin, chiselled face led me to believe and I could feel the muscles in his arm flex under his jacket as he wrestled me backwards. One step back from me was all he needed and he swiftly pulled his arm back, now pushing a sharp point into my stomach. I gasped, tensing my stomach, trying to withdraw it from the point, but too scared what he might do if I moved. “Don't be such a tattle tale,” He sang playfully in my ear and then placed more pressure on the knife, the point digging through my dress and into my skin. I was forced to step backwards, and he only eased up when I was back to my original position.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” I demanded, though keeping my voice low to avoid making a huge scene over something I hoped I could handle.

He held up a finger to me, gesturing for me to wait, then, keeping the knife against my stomach, he used his other hand to dig into his jacket pocket to pull out a playing card which he handed over to me face down.

I took it wordlessly, wondering if he suddenly wanted to perform a magic trick. I frowned at him confused and turned the card over to reveal a joker.

I shook my head in confusion, “I don’t –“ I began, when I suddenly remembered. It was true, I didn’t watch a lot of local news, especially if nothing to do with stock markets – I didn’t have the time, I usually had someone else just produce a summary for me of all the daily costs and profits that would come in due to local occurrences – but I had heard the name Joker. An escape of Arkham Asylum and a crime lord on the streets of Gotham.

Was it time to get someone’s attention now? Should I scream?

Suddenly there was a finger inches away from my face, “Not a word doll.” He purred, pressing the knife harder into my stomach and I gasped.

“You're going to rob this place on your own?” I scoffed through the pain, trying to keep my cool, even if I was at knife point.

"Never underestimate a man without a plan!” He grinned sadistically at me and I could see the true sick and twisted nature in his eyes.

“Now doll…” He snarled dangerously, “Shall we continue?” He asked, his voice suddenly sickly sweet and painfully pleasant, “What is your name and what is it you do?”

I swallowed, trying not to move my stomach against the weapon too much. I was truly afraid for my life now, the truth of my situation only too clear now. “My name is Leah. I'm a partner of INK.” I quoted out as the knife bit into my skin.

“Wow, doll. A real successful business woman.” He seemed impressed, “Who are the other partners?” He asked, pushing even harder on the knife.

“Just my husband.” I gasped, scrunching my eyes closed at the pain, the pressure forcing me to bend over slightly.

He retracted the knife slightly, giving me a small amount of relief, “Your husband, hmm?” He asked, as though generally intrigued, “And where is he?”

I didn’t know why the psychotic clown wanted to know and I definitely didn’t want to answer – I wouldn’t sell out my husband to this criminal clown, but I also knew I was about to be skewered with a knife if I didn’t tell him. “Whatever you want with him you can take up with me!” I told him fiercely.

“Brave, doll, I see.” He muttered, nodding, “But that wasn’t an answer to the question, was it?”He snarled, “So, I’ll ask again,” He said, a fierceness in his voice this time that made me cower until his gaze, “Where. Is. He?”

I swallowed again, trying to embrace the pain like I knew some people were able to. I continued to refuse to answer, staring at him in a stubborn silence, fighting against the tears of pain that were threatening in the corners of my eyes.

“Come on now, doll.” He urged, his teeth clenched together like he was restraining himself from doing something, “It’s only a simple question of interest,” He sneered, “Promise I won't harm him.” He pleaded mockingly, but at the same time I felt the knife again, and I scrunched my face at the pain.

What was I going to do? He had promised not to hurt him after all. Sure, I doubted an Arkham patient and crime lord was going to be a man of his word, but it was better than nothing right? Or was that just the pain and alcohol talking?

I didn’t want to be the reason Mathew got hurt, but here I was being basically tortured into giving information.

Whilst I debated in my head, eyes on the floor, and partially doubled over in pain, the Joker leant over me, bending down to my ear, “If he was in your position, would he be as gallant for you?” His warm breath brushed past my ear and I wasn’t sure if I trembled or shivered, the movement causing the knife to cut a bit deeper.

Would he, though? I wondered. I wanted to say I couldn’t be sure, but deep down I felt like I knew the answer.

I pulled myself upright slightly, ignoring the protest of my skin as the blade point scraped down my skin. At the movement, the Joker released some of the pressure on the knife, giving me a brief relief from the pain, though the now-tender skin still stung with the memory.

I didn’t say anything, feeling the knife drop away completely as I turned my back on the Joker. I scanned the crowded room until my gaze fell on a group of three men in suits stood chatting, each holding a small glass of an amber liquid. My eyes focused on the tallest man, neatly shaven, his brown hair combed neatly back and in a smart black suit with a crisp white shirt underneath.

“Ahh...” the Joker breathed behind me, confirming that he had seen the man. “Now tell me doll, has he even spared a moment for you this evening, hmm?” He asked quietly in my ear, another shiver passing down my spine at his breath on my neck and how close he was behind me.

 My eyes were glued to my husband’s figure, begging him to turn around and look at me, see the fear and panic in my eyes, if only for a moment.

But he didn't feel my gaze on the side of his face, or if he did, he chose to ignore it, continuing his conversation animatedly, without a care to the trauma his wife was experiencing across the room.

“Shame.” Purred the Joker behind me and I felt his hand drift to my hip, the knife point now digging into my back.

tags: @carouselcurls @6fish6 (I wasn't sure who wanted to be tagged in this as it's not Deadly voice - but the 2 I have tagged seemed to enjoy all my work so I thought you might want to read it?)

[punkascas]

Fic Author Interview

tagged by: the wonderfully talented and incredibly sweet @amirosebooks  ❤

tagging: @iggyw @tenoko1 @casolantern @schmerzerling @amazinmango @serricoj @rainbofiction @coffeeandcas @topaz-eyes @angelofthemoor @culumacilinte @coplins

im going to do this from the slightly broader perspective of creative writing in general (since i write fic but i also write scripts and things for my job). also this is v long. sorry.

What inspires your work most? (The show it is based on, the actor who portrays a certain character, maybe the character itself…? It could even be an experience.) so generally my inspiration is (in order): (a) my own life experiences, (b) some kind of commentary i want to make about the source material or about fiction or fandom in general, and (c) the characters themselves and the aspects i love in them, especially trying to find ways to play with the duality of their personalities, the good aspects and the negative ones.  i’ve known for a long time that what drives me to create is that i want to make other people feel less alone. you know those times to read something or there’s a line someone says, and you’re like, yes, yes, that’s me; no one’s ever gotten that before or at least never put it so perfectly into words, whatever that experience/feeling might be. i want to give people that moment with anything i create. there’s also a lot of things that i’ve experienced in my life that come up relatively often in fiction, or at least in fic, and a lot of it usually is off-putting to me. it never resonates. it’s melodramatic or simply inaccurate, and i think is often written by someone who doesn’t have the lived experience to pull from. so i always want to add my voice to the pile and benefit from my own experiences to make those kinds of tropes and situations more realistic and relatable -- to me, but hopefully also to others.  like generally every character backstory or character arc i write in fic is something pulled from my own life. like it’s probably twisted or adapted somewhat, because i’m not into being autobiographical. but as an example, in faith healer, this bit: Memory degrades with time. Maybe as a child he knew that somehow. He knew that there would be a second, slower death across time, as she became more of idea than person, and so he clung onto specific moments as a talisman for Mom: I had a mom once; this was my mommy. He remembers her hands best. The way her skin was thin and dry, but her fingers strong, and the way they'd close around his hands. The way she would press in love and good luck and humility when he misbehaved with a squeeze to his chubby, too small hands. Second best he remembers her laugh, the way her mouth moved around a smile, the warmth in it, tinged with embarrassment whenever someone startled it out from her. The rest of the memories are vague, more like facts he can read out of a mental police blotter than lived experience. She used to wear some kind of fleece robe in the winter, thick and pilled, creating a soft cushion between her breasts for his head to rest when he sat in her lap for a story. He thinks the robe was red. She used to bake things from scratch and used to let him pretend to help. On Sundays she did laundry, down in the basement. He followed her once, asking when Dad would come back, and she paused on the landing, basket of clothes cocked on her hip, and wouldn't go any further until he went back upstairs. The basement, she said, was too dangerous for him, dark and damp. She wanted him to be safe. She always cut the crust off his sandwiches. that is my experience of my grandmother’s death. when she died i knew i would forget over time the specific details of her, so i picked a couple to remind myself of daily so i’d never forget them. and that was her hands and her laugh. and i do have that memory of her doing the laundry and standing on the landing to the basement asking her where my dad was and when he’d be back (he was on an 18 month voyage to africa - my dad is a sailor). and she did always cut the crusts off my sandwiches for me.  (and btw i can’t ever re-read that passage with crying.)

What is your favorite fandom to write for? i mean, usually whatever my main fandom is at the time? which right now is spn. i did also enjoy writing potc fic and RDJ films sherlock holmes. i like writing characters who have a very strong but also very biased or unusual perspective on the world. they make for good unreliable narrators, which is something i love doing.

Which perspective do you prefer writing in? (First-person, third-person) always, always, always third-person limited is my go-to. i only write in first-person if the original source material is written that way (like ACD Sherlock Holmes) and i want to do a pastiche of that style. 

Do you prefer writing reader fics or OCs? no. full stop. (okay, one caveat: i do like kidfic, but i am also SUPER PICKY about reading it bc im always looking for some accurate representations of parenthood and what it’s like to have a child. like kids are hard??? they’re hard and they make you worry and they drive you crazy and they have their own, weird, stubborn, fascinating views on life and the world. they’re not perfect angel children who exist only to be cute or ridiculously amazing mary sue geniuses. so yeah a well done kidfic where the kid is an OC i will read.)

Do you prefer writing longer works or one shots? given that every single WIP i have right now are fucking, horrible, lengthy novels,i want to say i prefer writing one-shots. i want TO BE ABLE to write one-shots. i used to do???? but yeah, i guess i really do enjoy plotting and world-building, which lends itself to creating monster plot bunnies instead of short stories or quick scenes. 

Do you take requests? i do! do i ever actually get around to writing those requests is another question. but absolutely. send me prompts. ask for timestamps. if it speaks to me, and especially if it’s something i think i can write in less than 1000 words, i’ll most likely give it a go. 

Do you enjoy getting random Asks? yes! always! i try to respond at least with in 72 hours. but yes please COME TALK TO ME ANYTIME.

What inspires the names for OCs (or extra character names) in your works? Do you pick them from real life or just select them at random? A mix? so with fic, i never really write OCs, or if i do, they’re p much a red shirt or like extra #243 or smth and therefore don’t have names. if a character has spoken dialogue or no on-screen dialogue but some impact on the plot, i’ll try to “cast” that part with a character from the source material. for example, in the family business (which i realise isn’t posted yet), there’s some issues with a rival gang that need resolving. i cast the head of the rival gang as a well-known character from spn that has generally served a rival or an enemy to the boys on the show. i like doing that bc i like the parallels it draws, especially when working with an AU, and the ability to explore characters and dynamics from a slightly (or not slightly at all but in fact completely divergent) angle. i follow the philosophy that part of the real cathartic nature of AUs and part of why we write them is the ability to offer commentary on the source material. that a good AU should offer commentary on the source material. they're both metatexts and paratexts simultaneously. the one caveat to this, again, is kidfic, because i like and i do write it (i’ve just never finished any of those fics enough to publish them). and then i try to name kids in the way i think their parents would name them. i try to put myself in the character’s headspace and try to figure out what name(s) would appeal to them. and if we talk about work, and the scripts i write, i mean all of that is basically OCs. so far every script i’ve written while employed by my current firm, i always stick in at least one instance of one of my dogs’ names. i also will make subtle film or tv references. like the script i just wrote, there were three characters, and the first character had already been named harold by our content lead. so i named the other two perry and harmony as a reference to kiss kiss bang bang. i’ve done all the clones from orphan black as OC names. i’ve done members of radiohead.  if one of the scripts im writing already has a theme built into it for a specific pop culture reference (like yesterday one of the scripts i wrote was using yoda speech and star wars analogies as part of its marketing and engagement strategies) so i’ll name characters in line with that pop culture motif (so the star wars themed script has luke and ben and daisy and carrie as characters). 

If your story(ies) have OCs, are their appearances based on real people or celebrities? If so, who? as mentioned above, i rarely include OCs and if i do, they’re unimportant stand-ins. so i never give much thought to how they look. offspring in kidfic i do think about how they look. if the actors who play the main characters have children, i’ll start there. like for dean and cas, i always look at jj and west and maison and try to figure out what a kid with some of those combined physical features might look like. i’ll also look at photos of the actors from when they were kids or teenagers and try to decide if these two people had a kid, what features would that kid inherit.  for work, casting people depends on client expectations and design direction and budget, so it’s a different ballgame. 

How long have you been writing fanfiction? i think the first fic i published was in 2002 or 2003. so 15 years i guess??? how has it been 15 years dude. 

[geckogirl89]

Criminal Persuasion

Based on this text post by @earthdragon1. The name for the OC criminal came from this generator.

Fandom: Hawaii Five-0 (2010) Pairing/Characters: Steve/Danny pairing; others appear (Kono, Chin, Lou, Duke, Eric, and Pua). There’s an OC criminal. Rating: T (some violence and language) Word Count: Almost 3,000. Warnings: Graphic violence (see the original post for more information). Brief mentions of human trafficking (including sex trafficking) that isn’t depicted within the story. Notes: Set after 7.18 (thanks to a minor spoiler from that episode), but it could work anytime during season 7. The canon girlfriends are not mentioned and are ignored for the purposes of this story. The POV in the first section is Steve’s, then it switches over to Danny’s POV.

Roman Hellier was an infuriatingly slippery criminal. Five-0 suspected him of leading a trafficking ring that led underage girls into prostitution and poor, desperate immigrants into slavery, but so far they had been unable to accumulate enough evidence to arrest him. They had been able to incarcerate lower level leaders of the operation, but they hadn't been able to take down the suspected kingpin yet. None of the men they had arrested had been willing to testify against him, and every time he was in interrogation, Hellier would remain tight-lipped and leave with an evil smirk on his face that Steve wanted to punch right off.

Of course, he knew he couldn't do that. They needed his eventual conviction to be clean, with no possibility that he might get off on a technicality due to police brutality. This guy had made way too many people suffer, and Steve wouldn't let him get off because he lost his temper. But Steve had not expected Hellier to be so bold as to plant himself in one of Steve's beach chairs while he was out for his morning swim.

His arms tensed, braced for a fight, as he got out of the ocean and saw Hellier making himself at home in his backyard. "What the fuck are you doing here?! You know that I could arrest you for trespassing right now."

Hellier smiled in his typical vicious manner. "The better question is, how I managed to get into your backyard while you were unarmed." He shook his head in mock disappointment. "You're very predictable, Commander."

Steve stalked toward the asshole, who laughed as if he was the one in control. Steve was even more pissed that the guy was getting inside his head, making him wonder how he had ended up violating the sanctity of his home like this. "As for arresting me, I don't think you'll want to do that. But that is typical of you, Commander, all bark and no bite. How about you sit down so we can have a chat, like gentlemen?"

Steve was not stupid enough to sit down. Hellier probably had a trained sniper ready to strike when he sat down. "How about you just tell me what you want or I call the police right now?"

Hellier shrugged. "Fine. Have it your way. He produced a document folder. "I think you should see these."

Steve cautiously took the folder, wary of opening it in case it had anthrax or something in it. Hellier seemed to be reading his mind. "I promise that the contents of it are quite safe, Commander. I'm endeavoring to persuade you, not kill you. Open the envelope."

Steve slowly opened the envelope, and his stomach sank when he saw a series of pictures. There were some of him and Danny, Danny alone, Danny with Grace and Charlie, Grace and Charlie by themselves, and Steve with all of them. The photos had been taken over the past year, some months before the investigation on Hellier had begun, and had been taken in public places, at Steve's own house, at Danny's house, and both Grace and Charlie's schools. Steve wanted to throw up.

"Where the hell did you get these?" he asked, rifling through the photos. His voice couldn't hide the fear he felt.

Hellier simply hummed instead of answering his question. "I am a man with many resources. They're quite important to you, aren't they?"

The bastard was smiling at Steve. Steve clenched his jaw, even more angry that Hellier had found out this particular truth about him so easily. "What kind of game are you playing?"

Hellier blinked with false innocence. "It's not a game, more of a... quid pro quo, shall we say. If Five-0 drops their investigation against me, Detective Williams and his children will remain safe. If not, well..." He trailed off, shrugging. "I can't make any promises."

That tiny smug quirk of Hellier's lip and evil glint in his eye had Steve seeing red. No way was he going to let him get away with this bullshit.

Danny pulled up to Steve's house earlier than he normally would when they went to work together. He shook his head at himself when he checked the time display on the radio in his car and saw how early it still was. Steve might not even be out of the ocean yet, and Danny didn't know how he would explain his odd behavior to his friend. Danny had woken up early that morning with a chill running through his bones, the kind of feeling that someone more superstitious might attribute to a person walking over his grave. He had the inexplicable sense that something was deeply, terribly wrong and that it had something to do with Steve. Before he knew it, he had driven over to his partner's house.

Danny decided to go ahead and greet his partner. Steve would likely reassure him that everything was fine, and then they would engage in their normal bickering that would make him feel more normal. Confident in his plan, Danny turned off the ignition in his car.

Danny's heart immediately began to race as he heard what sounded like shouting from Steve's backyard. He removed his gun from his holster, clicking off the safety and immediately making his way to Steve's beach.

Danny froze when he saw the sight in front of him. Steve was on top of Roman Hellier, a criminal Five-0 had been investigating for some time, and choking him. He had a split lip and a bruise that would form into a black eye later, but he had clearly gained the upper hand in whatever fight the two had. Danny had never seen Steve with so much out of control fury in his eyes before. This wasn't an interrogation technique Danny thought was crossing the line. Steve seemed like he wanted to kill Hellier and didn't care about the consequences.

"No one goes after my family, you son of a bitch! Do you hear me, no one!"

Fuck, Steve sounded like he wanted to kill the guy too. Danny put the safety back on his gun and re-holstered it. He had to stop Steve from making a horrible, life-altering mistake.

Danny ran over to his partner. "Steve, stop it!"

Steve didn't seem to hear him as he continued to yell at Hellier. "You're gonna die for this!"

Danny pulled Steve's arms away from Hellier's neck, grunting with the effort, and tugged Steve backwards. Danny held on to Steve despite his partner's frenzied attempts to escape. As he pulled him back, he briefly noticed some papers on the ground, but he couldn't see what was on them.

"Listen to me, Steve, you don't want to do this. Believe me, I know." Danny was thinking of how he had killed Marco Reyes after Reyes had killed his little brother, Matty. He understood where Steve's impulse to kill this guy had come from if he had threatened Steve's sister and niece. But he also knew that killing Hellier would only hurt Steve at the end of the day.

Steve shook his head. "He's evil, pure evil. Can't let it happen. Can't."

There was a terror in Steve's voice that Danny could detect underneath the cold fury, but he would focus on reassuring Steve once he was under more control. When they were several feet away from Hellier, Danny turned around and gently pushed Steve down to the sand.

He looked into Steve's eyes sternly. "Sit there and don't move."

Steve blinked in surprise as if he hadn't known that it was Danny who had pulled him away from Hellier. Wow, that must have been one intense rage blackout. Danny waited until Steve nodded before he turned his attention to Hellier, who was pathetically attempting to crawl away.

Danny drew out his gun, clicking off the safety and pointing at Hellier. "You're not moving either. You’re under arrest for trespassing on private property. And I'm calling in backup to process this scene." Danny used his other hand to take out his cell phone and used his speed dial to call Chin.

Several moments later, the rest of Five-0 had shown up, along with Duke, Pua, and Eric, who was processing the crime scene. Everyone else was dealing with the scene outside while Danny was in the kitchen watching his partner with a wary gaze. Steve hadn't said anything since Danny stopped him, but he seemed to be slightly calmer now. He was holding a bag of ice to his injured eye and glaring at the kitchen table. Occasionally, his fists would clench as if he was still thinking about beating the crap out of Hellier.

Once Danny had called for backup, he had time to wonder about a couple of things. Hellier had rarely been outside the state of Hawaii and had never taken his criminal operations to the mainland, so Danny wasn't even sure how he would have known of Mary and Joan's existence. It seemed unlikely that he would have planned to go after them in Los Angeles. But they certainly made more sense as a target than Steve's mother, his only other living relative. Most people outside of the CIA would assume that she was dead.

"Oh my God," Eric exclaimed from outside. "I think I'm gonna be sick."

Now Danny was even more confused. Eric had processed crime scenes where grisly murders had taken place without making a peep, and this was a home invasion. What the hell had he found that would give him that disgusted and shocked tone of voice?

A couple moments later, Duke entered the kitchen, trailed by Pua. He had a serious and worried expression on his face.

"I need to talk to you outside for a moment, Detective Williams. Pua will watch Commander McGarrett."

"Yeah, okay, sure." Danny stood up from the table and walked outside with Duke. He swore that he could feel Steve staring after him the entire time until they closed the door to Steve's house.

Duke sighed and shuffled through some papers that he was handling with gloves. They were probably the same papers Danny had briefly noticed in his struggle to keep Steve from attacking Hellier. "You ought to take a look at these."

Danny sucked in a gasp at the images he saw. It appeared that Hellier had been stalking Danny and his children. He was creeped out at the photos he saw that had not been taken in public places.

His nephew walked over to them. "That sicko was stalking you, Uncle D."

Danny shook his head. "I know. I just... why?"

Nobody answered him, but Duke did give him a worried glance as he continued to move through the photos.

"This doesn't make any sense," Danny whispered to himself.

Chin walked over to Duke, trailed by Kono and Lou. "So, we've booked Hellier on the trespassing and stalking charges. We should be able to ask him some questions once he's well enough to talk." Chin made a displeased face at that. Hellier would probably not be any more forthcoming than he had been in previous interrogations, and Steve's attack might make their case against him more difficult in the future. But Danny was still kind of stuck on the fact that Hellier had been stalking him and on the frightening feeling that came from knowing he and his kids had been targeted by a very dangerous criminal.

Chin focused his attention on Danny, along with the rest of the team. Everyone was looking at him with sympathetic concern.

"How are you taking this, Danny?" Kono finally inquired.

Danny sighed. He still felt like he was trapped in a fog and unable to find clarity. "I don't know. Really freaked out, I guess. It just doesn't make any sense."

"Yeah, nobody expected Hellier to pull a stunt like this," Lou said.

"That too, but that's not what I meant. I just... there was something Steve said when I found him. Something about Hellier going after his family, but if he was talking about me, then that would mean..."

Danny's words stopped in his throat when they saw the reactions everyone else had to this news, or rather the lack of reactions to this non-newsworthy revelation. Kono and Chin exchanged knowing glances, Lou looked at him like he pitied him for being so dumb, Duke cleared his throat awkwardly, and Eric sighed like he was very, very tired.

"You really didn't know, Uncle D?" Eric asked, sounding full of disbelief.

"What he said," Lou chimed in.

"Ditto," Kono echoed. Chin nodded his head in agreement. Suddenly, Danny felt as stupid as Lou's expression had suggested he was. How could everyone else know that Steve apparently considered Danny and his children to be his family in that protective, instinctual way and Danny was only just now figuring it out?

"I, uh, I guess I should go talk to Steve then, huh?"

Kono raised an eyebrow. "I would say so."

"I'll, uh, I'll go then." He awkwardly waved towards the house behind him with his thumb before he turned around to re-enter the house.

Pua's posture straightened when he noticed Danny entering the kitchen. "Hey! I tried to get him to talk, but he wasn't really responding. He still seems to be really bothered by whatever happened this morning." His expression turned apologetic. "Maybe you'll have better luck."

"Maybe." Danny could only hope so.

Pua left the kitchen with a thoughtful frown on his face, and Danny took a seat next to Steve, who was staring blankly ahead at nothing.

Danny put a hand on Steve's shoulder and opened his mouth to say something, but the words just wouldn't come. And putting a hand on Steve's shoulder didn't feel like enough of a gesture, not this time. Danny turned his chair and wrapped his arms around Steve.

Steve lowered the bag of ice he had been holding to his eye and clung to Danny as if he was afraid he would die that very moment. "Danny."

Danny released a weak, trembling laugh, glad that Steve was at least speaking now, though he still seemed shaken up. "You really freaked me out today, babe."

Steve pulled out of the embrace and directed a glare at the table. "I know I shouldn't have let him bait me like that, but when he said all that stuff, I just..." He scowled as if Hellier was right in front of him.

Danny licked his lips. "What did he say, exactly?"

"He pulled out those photos and then he said that you and Grace and Charlie would be safe if Five-0 quit investigating him. If not, he..." Steve paused to draw in a deep breath. "He said he 'couldn't make any promises' regarding your safety." Steve dropped his arms to the table with an ominous thud and buried his head in his hands.

Danny had suspected that Hellier had threatened his and his kids' lives, but the confirmation from Steve's own lips was frankly terrifying. He could see Steve's shoulders trembling and hated the thought that he was crying because of this. Very few things could bring Steve to tears, and Danny hadn't realized that this would be one of them.

"I just, even the thought of losing any of you," he said, words muffled by his hands. "I can't stand it."

Danny sighed. "Same here."

Steve dropped his hands, which bared his red, surprised eyes to Danny's gaze. "Really?"

Danny narrowed his eyes, willing his dumbass partner to understand how much he cared about him. "Why do you think I gave you half my liver, you idiot?"

Steve chuckled and pulled Danny into an enthusiastic hug. "I really, really love you, Danno."

Danny grinned as butterflies started to flutter around in his stomach. Hearing those words from Steve felt even better than usual, because this time there was no "buddy," "pal," or "bro" attached that dashed the hopes Danny had always assumed were foolish before this morning. After the nerve-wracking day they had, Danny let himself respond freely.

"I love you, too." He huffed out a laugh, and his next words were light, but unmistakably hopeful. "If it weren't for your busted lip, I'd probably kiss you right now."

Steve pulled away slightly to look into Danny's eyes and gave him a goofy grin. "I wouldn't mind the busted lip thing."

Danny leaned in to kiss Steve, keeping it brief and gentle due to the aforementioned busted lip issue. He pulled away a few seconds later and Steve's eyes were still closed. He seemed pretty blissed out, and Danny felt similarly though they still had a lot to worry about.

"I know today started off bad, but we're gonna get through this, I swear." He didn't know how, but Danny had to have faith that they would.

Steve opened his eyes and looked down at the table before he reached out for Danny's hand. "I won't let anything bad happen to you."

Danny had known Steve would protect him before today, but now he knew just how insane his protective instincts could get. About as insane as Danny's, considering the fact that he came very close to killing the guy who had shot Steve on the plane. If several other people hadn't been around at the time and if he hadn't had the flash of what had happened because of Marco Reyes, Danny could have very easily gone over the edge.

Danny interlaced their fingers. "I'm not letting anything bad happen to you either." Danny considered the dark days ahead for both of them and vowed to keep that promise no matter what.

[vibingwithluna-blog]

Marauders Fic- Howl in the Night Chapter One (Remus x OC)

Contrary to first impressions, Remus was quite the ladies man. No one, including himself, truly knew what made him so appealing but it certainly did the job. Throughout his first three years at school, he had become the best of friends with James, Sirius, and Peter with Lily following closely behind; however, despite his unbeknownst charm with his school mates and rather fierce friendships Remus still felt out of touch and lonely far too often. As the end of the summer approached and he gathered his school supplies in his trunk Remus promised himself that he would make deeper connections and feel better this year, even if he didn't quite know how. "Remus! Where've ya been? We were starting to think you'd be running to school this year!" Sirius shouted, hanging out of the Hogwarts Express he had undoubtably boarded the second he arrived in attempts to rid himself of his parents. "Yeah you better hurry up or Peter will have made it through all of your chocolate," added James who's mouth was smashed between Sirius and the edge of the window. Remus smiled despite himself and hurried even faster onto the train, hurling his trunk above him as he dove into the seat next to Sirius. Sighing, Remus thought to himself that this year was already off to a better start. For one, the full moon was two weeks away which was far enough away from the start but not too close to the first set of parchments he'd no doubt be assigned. His thoughts were interrupted by an orange-haired girl with a beaming smile entering. "Hello Lily, did you miss me terribly this summer?" Started James, breaking into a grin the moment he saw her. "Oh obviously James, I just couldn't wait to see you and that's the only reason I'm here" Lily said sarcastically before hurrying on excitedly, "actually, I've been looking for the new fourth year that will be joining us this year. McGonagall owled me to let me know I should escort her in so she doesn't get overwhelmed, and of course she'll still have to be sorted. Anyways, have you seen her?" After a chorus of "no's" from the boys Lily left with a huff of exasperation, clearly stressed that she was letting down the new student. "Have we ever had someone come to us in fourth year? How would that even work? Where did she even come from?!" Sirius was firing questions so rapidly that no one could answer them until he was cut off. "Um, no, with a lot of discussion with the headmaster, and I'm from America- I went to Ilvermorny before now" said a small figure just outside the door that separated the boys from the rest of the train. "Well come in," said Sirius with a look that screamed up-to-something and a subtle wink, "and tell us all about America." "Thanks for the invite, I'll accept because I don't know where else to go, but don't think that wink will get you anywhere" the girl replied curtly, but the smile still played on her lips. Without being able to help himself, Remus sat forward as she sat down. It's not every day someone new and of similar ages comes to Hogwarts after all, and this unnamed girl was quite nice to look at. She was of small stature, probably 5'2" and generally petite, her hair was dirty blonde and fell in soft, slightly frizzy curls down to her mid back, and her eyes were a hazel that danced in the light of the high sun and made his heart speed up slightly as they caught his. "Anyways," she started again after a minute of awkward silence, "I'm Millie, are you guys going to be in my year?" "Yeah," continued Remus, "but maybe not your house since you've yet to be sorted. Have you heard much about the way it's done at Hogwarts? It's probably super different than in America but it's a right blast to watch people's faces as the hat talks to them, you'll enjoy watching the little ones sort." "That is, if I can manage to enjoy anything before I'm sorted myself. I've read up on the houses of course, what'll you guys be then?" This time is was Peter that spoke first, as he was most proud of his sorting, "Gryffindor of course! What else would you expect?" Millie's eyes smiled before her lips this time, like she had a reply on her tongue but thought better than to say it. "Oh I don't know, you all screamed Hufflepuff in my eyes," she smirked and then laughed at the aghast faces in the room, "only joking of course. Not that it's a bad thing I think all the houses have good, and bad, qualities." She said the latter as she looked pointedly to Peter. Within minutes of their continuing conversation, Remus was smitten. He held to her every word and thought surely that his heart stopped when she laughed. However, and the time flew by and the train began approaching their home away from home Remus had noticed that Millie was making a point to look away from him. Almost as if she would catch herself wanting to look at him and correct herself, but for the life of him he couldn't decide why. Remus wasn't one to typically yearn for girls despite their typical interest in him, especially someone he hardly knew so frustration grew within himself and she continued to look elsewhere. For the remainder of the trip Remus engaged in conversation half-heartedly and slipped fully into his thoughts of what he had done to disinterest her, paired equally with thoughts of why it didn't particularly matter because he definitely was not actually interested in her as it could never actually go anywhere. "Jeez, Re it's like you've blown a gasket. Get up mate we've got to go or we'll miss the carriages," James said as he threw Remus' trunk at him and hustled off the train. A little shaken, having not noticed he had slipped so far into his thoughts, Remus spent a fleeting second wondering how Millie had gone from the boys to find Lily, and how she must feel about sorting before running off the train after his friends. "I can't wait to eat," grumbled Sirius as the boys sat huddled closely together, "who gives a damn about the sorting they can know once we are no longer starving." "I'm betting Remus cares quite a bit, yeah?" Said James as he nudged Remus' shoulder, who was staring up at the sorting hat on the stool. "I swear I saw his heart pop out of his chest as Mil walked in." "What? Oh, no I don't care much. And when did you start calling her Mil? Did you become best mates on the train?" Remus huffed, and James just laughed knowing fully well that Remus was on the defensive. "Attention everyone," said McGonagall from the front of the room with her hands held as a signal of silence, "since we are breaking tradition this year by sorting a fourth year into our home, we've thought it best that she go first so as not to gain too much anticipation." Remus chuckled as he saw Millie's eyes bulge slightly at the announcement, despite earning an eye roll from his three best friends. "Oh this is so exciting are! I hope she comes to us," whispered Lily from slightly down the row of seats, "she seems so lovely. Perfect for a Mr. Moony in my opinion!" "Lily hush, please no match making!" Remus hurried before facing the front once more. He felt on the edge of his seat simply watching Millie, and her walk to the hat was nearly through. Suddenly, Remus wished she wouldn't be Gryffindor. In fact, he wished she'd be anything else. He already wanted to be near her, and he didn't need any excuse to get close to someone else. His condition was much too volatile to bring a soul like hers into. As the hat was placed perfectly on her hair and her eyes squinted shut in seeming concentration, his inner battle raged on. He wanted so desperately to know her, but his conscious told him to wish her away, if he wished hard enough maybe the hat would hear hi-suddenly his thoughts were interrupted by a bellowing "GRYFFINDOR" from the mouth of the hat. As Millie leapt up, her eyes connected with Remus' for a second and again his world stopped turning- only this time she froze as well. Aware that he had stood up for the first time, Remus sat down with a deep blush across his cheeks and muffled laughed from his friends along with a knowing glance from Lily. "Mate, usually you are fighting them off of you, wanting nothing to do with them!" Chuckled James, "what on earth has gotten into you?!" "Yeah Remus, let's say she's the moon and you've been caught howling," Sirius added, getting a swift kick from Remus and a burst of laughter from the boys. With that, Remus knew he was already done for.