#how to create an Assembly

[stoneythings-blog]

How to create an Assembly: CATIA V5 Assembly Design Tutorial

[fisheito]

@trainto1925 and now u got ME thinkin!!!

wondering when eiden would have gotten good enough at plushie making to create his entire harem in doll form. ...possibly around the time blade showed up. eiden got a lot of practice making thousands of Eiden Plushies as gifts 🤣

imagining how eiden starts to do a lot of impromptu "visualisation" exercises when blade joins the roster

BLADE: but why was lil yakumo embarrassed when i showed garugaru the box in front of-- EIDEN: (sighing goodnaturedly) ok, say..um *grabs the nearest two items* pretend this cup is garu, and this spoon is yakumo---

after some repetition, eiden wonders if blade will understand better if he just has dolls representing everyone thus begins the plushie brigade

[666writingcafe]

The Home Theater

Satan

"I don't remember the House of Lamentation having one of these," MC notes as they take in their surroundings. "Whose idea was it to put one here?"

"It was mine," I answer. "Barbatos helped me set everything up. All the equipment, the acoustics...it's all top-notch."

"By human world standards, or Devildom ones?" I've forgotten how observant they are. MC seems to enjoy taking in all sorts of information, even if it seems insignificant to other people. That's one of the things I like about them.

"According to the employee at DevTech--I mean, Best Buy--we have the top-of-the-line equipment, and the quality is comparable to some of ours." I hate that I keep swapping human world names with Devildom ones. I personally feel like I'm better than that.

"Have you guys used it yet?"

"Funny that you mention that, because we just started a zombie movie marathon last weekend."

"Was that your idea as well?" I nod my head.

"The idea of zombies has interested me for a while now. While there are diseases and curses that can induce a zombie-like state in demons, it's usually a temporary problem that can be solved with medicine. That doesn't seem to be the case with humans."

"Are you solely basing that on our movies?"

"Of course not. I've also read books."

"Fiction or non-fiction?" Oh, I'm about to blow their mind.

"Both, actually."

While the human world seems to focus on the fantastical elements of zombies, the Devildom has meticulously recorded all zombie outbreaks that have occurred throughout the centuries. You see, sometimes a human zombie accidentally stumbles in the Devildom, and we have to deal with that situation properly in order to prevent chaos.

While we've certainly dealt with the stereotypical zombies--the ones that are slow-moving, crave brains, and are more or less dead--those aren't the only ones that we've come across. Some are capable of sprinting, others aren't too keen on brains, and there's even those that appear perfectly fine on the outside but have some kind of parasite in their brain that's making them carry out orders with no thought whatsoever.

Although, sometimes the parasite doesn't have a physical form and is instead created as a result of rather intense brainwashing.

"I see," MC states once I've completed my mini lecture. "Somehow, that's never come up in any of my classes."

"That's because you've only taken general knowledge ones. RAD offers majors, and with those comes specific classes for particular areas of study. Although, in order to declare a major, you have to prove that you have a solid understanding of the fundamentals first, since you might get pulled to teach a class or two."

"Has that ever happened to you guys?"

"Lucifer and I are the only ones out of our bunch that have declared a major. Belphie's been offered, but he doesn't want to deal with the responsibility of teaching, so he just takes whatever interests him. The others simply haven't proven themselves yet. Levi struggles with attendance, and Beel has difficulty concentrating. As for Mammon and Asmo, I think they're content with where they're at right now, so they're not going to push themselves too hard."

"What do you and Lucifer major in?"

"He does potions and curses. I focus on history and literature. Somehow, despite my sin, I tend to be a more patient teacher than him. At least, that's what I've heard from other students."

"That's really interesting." MC appears deep in thought. "Do you think I could major in something?"

Honestly, I don't know how to answer that question, mainly because we've never had beings outside the Devildom attend RAD before Diavolo implemented the exchange program. It wouldn't surprise me if he did allow MC and the others to declare a major eventually, but I don't know how long that would take. Would MC be alive by then? Or be in a good physical and mental state to take in additional knowledge, let alone teach an entire classroom? Personally, I think they have the best chance out of the initial exchange students of eventually declaring a major, but that isn't for me to determine.

"That would be something to ask Diavolo. I don't think I'm qualified to answer that question." MC nods their head.

"So, changing the subject...wanna watch a movie together?"

"Like, right now?"

"Yeah!" I sigh.

"As much as I would like to, I doubt the others would be happy if I kept you all to myself before they've even had the chance to say hi to you. I will have to take your offer some other time."

"Sounds good. I'll try to find a good movie for us to watch together in the meantime."

"You bring the movie, and I'll whip up something nice for us to eat." MC snorts in amusement. "Do you not think I'm capable of cooking, MC?"

"It's not that at all. Just reacting to an idea I had, that's all."

"What kind of thought?" Interesting. My question has made them tense up all of a sudden. Usually they only get that way if someone catches them doing something that they think they're not supposed to do. Like fiddling with strange objects.

Or having dirty thoughts.

I keep coming across the phrase "Netflix and chill" in the media I've been consuming, and it appears to be referring to hooking up with someone as a movie's playing in the background. Is MC wanting to do that with me?

Are they afraid I'd find the idea silly? Because I don't. I mean, if it was something that I was invested in, then I'd want to pay attention to whatever was playing, but I'm more than capable of choosing something that I can tune out as I focus on something else.

Especially if that something else happens to be MC.

I lean in closer to them to whisper,

"You know, I went ahead and assembled a collection of movies I thought you'd like." I plant a kiss right below MC's ear, making them shiver slightly. "I really enjoyed picking them out, actually." I begin moving down their neck. "It was fun thinking about what might appeal to you. There are so many genres that are worth exploring."

[artisticdivasworld]

Zines: A Creative Outlet for Everyone

Have you ever felt that itch to create something that’s entirely your own, something that captures your thoughts, passions, and creativity? If so, you’re going to love the world of zines. These little self-published gems are the perfect way to express yourself without any of the usual constraints.  So, what exactly are zines? Well, the name is short for magazines or fanzines, but they’re a whole…

[spiritcc]

at this point I don't even know if tag fragmentation in the general russian holmes space is worth addressing. a few years ago I successfully kept the ancient customs intact because I wrote a post so deranged and pretentious it displeased people into doing what I wanted but nowadays what's the point in making a grand return of being terminally online if yall kinda right

[great-and-small]

When I was in vet school I went to this one lecture that I will never forget. Various clubs would have different guest lecturers come in to talk about relevant topics and since I was in the Wildlife Disease Association club I naturally attended all the wildlife and conservation discussions. Well on this particular occasion, the speakers started off telling us they had been working on a project involving the conservation of lemurs in Madagascar. Lemurs exist only in Madagascar, and they are in real trouble; they’re considered the most endangered group of mammals on Earth. This team of veterinarians was initially assembled to address threats to lemur health and work on conservation solutions to try and save as many lemur species from extinction as possible. As they explored the most present dangers to lemurs they found that although habitat loss was the primary problem for these vulnerable animals, predation by humans was a significant cause of losses as well. The vets realized it was crucial for the hunting of lemurs by native people to stop, but of course this is not so simple a problem.

The local Malagasy people are dealing with extreme poverty and food insecurity, with nearly half of children under five years old suffering from chronic malnutrition. The local people have always subsisted on hunting wildlife for food, and as Madagascar’s wildlife population declines, the people who rely on so-called bushmeat to survive are struggling more and more. People are literally starving.

Our conservation team thought about this a lot. They had initially intended to focus efforts on education but came to understand that this is not an issue arising from a lack of knowledge. For these people it is a question of survival. It doesn’t matter how many times a foreigner tells you not to eat an animal you’ve hunted your entire life, if your child is starving you are going to do everything in your power to keep your family alive.

So the vets changed course. Rather than focus efforts on simply teaching people about lemurs, they decided to try and use veterinary medicine to reduce the underlying issue of food insecurity. They supposed that if a reliable protein source could be introduced for the people who needed it, the dependence on meat from wildlife would greatly decrease. So they got to work establishing new flocks of chickens in the most at-risk communities, and also initiated an aggressive vaccination program for Newcastle disease (an infectious illness of poultry that is of particular concern in this area). They worked with over 600 households to ensure appropriate husbandry and vaccination for every flock, and soon found these communities were being transformed by the introduction of a steady protein source. Families with a healthy flock of chickens were far less likely to hunt wild animals like lemurs, and fewer kids went hungry. Thats what we call a win-win situation.

This chicken vaccine program became just one small part of an amazing conservation outreach initiative in Madagascar that puts local people at the center of everything they do. Helping these vulnerable communities of people helps similarly vulnerable wildlife, always. If we go into a country guns-blazing with that fire for conservation in our hearts and a plan to save native animals, we simply cannot ignore the humans who live around them. Doing so is counterintuitive to creating an effective plan because whether we recognize it or not, humans and animals are inextricably linked in many ways. A true conservation success story is one that doesn’t leave needy humans in its wake, and that is why I think this particular story has stuck with me for so long.

(Source 1)

(Source 2- cool video exploring this initiative from some folks involved)

(Source 3)

[foldingfittedsheets]

My paternal grandmother was a librarian. I only got to see that set of grandparents once a year as they lived out of state. I fondly remember summers spent at their house watching That Darn Cat and The King and I on loop, hunting for water skippers in the back creek, and reading the entirety of the Peanuts comics.

Because my grandma was a librarian she was delighted to foster my love of reading. We made trips to the library every week. One summer when I was seven or so I got really into this kids series about princesses all named after gemstones, each had a unique magic power.

At the end of each book was a puzzle or some extra bit of lore to decode. All of them were easily copied down in some way. Until I got to Sapphire’s book. At the end of the story Princess Sapphire was in peril! She needed a hero to come save her from a terrible fate. And there, on the last page, was a decoder device. It needed to be cut out and assembled.

I had to help save the Princess!!! In the iron grip of a fever of imagination I immediately found scissors and started carefully cutting the page. The page warned only to use scissors with an adult present and I scoffed to think I needed supervision just for scissors! I was a hero!Her plight called to me from the pages, imaginings of how I would daringly rescue the beautiful sweet Princess Sapphire ran through my little brain-

And about halfway up the page toward my goal I froze. This was a library book. I couldn’t cut a library book! What was I doing?! Even now in my memory it stands as a glaring example of the first time I mastered impulse control. Tragically, too late.

I was distraught. My grandma had a sacred duty to books and I, villain that I was, had defiled a precious tome! I wallowed for some time in abject misery, experiencing the greatest amount of guilt my tiny body had ever previously held. I’d probably go to jail. For a crime as monumental as wielding scissors against a book I wouldn’t even get dessert in jail.

Gradually, I processed my way through the grief of my vile deeds. I couldn’t have the decoder, I slowly accepted. That might be punishment enough. And I had only cut the page halfway. So it was only half a crime... It wasn’t illegal to lie when you’d aborted an evil act, right?

I didn’t know but I didn’t want to face my grandma’s potential wrath. I have no memory of my grandma ever yelling at me. I waited until the next day to approach her.

“Grandma? I finished my book and when I got to the end I saw someone had cut the page! They probably wanted the decoder because I also want that but it was very bad to cut a book, wasn’t it?”

My grandma regarded me benignly. She carefully took the book to observe it and nodded. “It’s good to see that they stopped before they cut it all the way out. Let’s go tape this together, and then I can photocopy the page and we can make you a decoder.”

I was ecstatic. Rewarded for my honesty! I created and cracked codes for the rest of summer with the flimsy paper creation we’d made. I genuinely doubt my grandma believed that I wasn’t the perpetrator, but I loved that she acknowledged that the person responsible stopped.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Hooking your Readers

Hook—The first line, lines, or paragraph meant to grab the reader’s attention

For most people, a night out at the movies includes sitting through the coming attractions. We watch these short bursts of scenes that scare us, intrigue us, make us laugh, and sometimes nearly bring us to tears. No matter the preview, though, if it looks good, we want to go see the movie. An effective “hook” in your story works the same way. You want to grab your reader right away and compel them to continue reading.

Some common strategies for creating a hook & examples:

Anecdote: My hands shook and beads of sweat rolled down my face. I double-checked the directions before assembling my tools and turning up the heat. Making lasagna shouldn’t have been this stressful, but in my grandmother’s kitchen, the stakes were a little higher. 

Direct quote: “Be open and use the world around you.” Toni Morrison gives this advice about the craft of writing, but I find that it applies to most areas of my life.

General statement or truth: Every child, no matter how sheltered or well-adjusted, will experience fear. Whether they are scared of the monster under the bed or the neighbor’s barking dog, children experience fear as a normal and healthy part of childhood.

History: On Wednesday, August 28, 1963, thousands traveled to Washington D.C. by road, rail, and air. There were demonstrators of all races, creeds, and genders. Unafraid of the intimidation and violence they faced, they demonstrated for the rights of all. Known as The Great March on Washington, this day marked an important turning point in the Civil Rights Movement in the United States.

Metaphor: Stretched out in a sunbeam, my cat may seem timid, but really, she’s a lion. She will stealthily stalk her prey, attack without mercy, and leave a trail of blood and guts in her wake. Afterward, as she grooms her luxurious mane, she shows no remorse.

Scene or illustration: Shadows stretch across the pavement as jack-o-lanterns flicker in windows. Little trick-or-treaters scamper from porch to porch, filling their bags with various forms of sugar. It is the day dentists dread most: Halloween.

Sensory description: The stale smell of cigarettes engulfed me as I stepped into the dim, silent apartment. The heat had been turned off, so I could see my breath fog in front of me as I carefully stepped over the old pizza boxes, overturned cups, and random pieces of paper strewn across the floor.

Startling statistic or statement: Teenage drivers crash their cars at nearly ten times the rate of older drivers.

[zephyrchama]

asserting your dominance over the demon brothers

01. You sit on Lucifer's desk while he's trying to work and slowly, slowly push things off. A pen here, a memo pad there. You make direct eye contact with him the entire time. If he attempts to get up (either to pick things off the floor or to get away from this ridiculousness) you use your pact to make him sit back down.

02. You sit in the driver's seat of Mammon's car. He gets a little grumpy. Mammon thought he was going to drive you around, and generally he's the only one allowed in that driver's seat. When he tells you as much and says to get up, you hit the gas pedal and drift forward. He runs to catch up. When he reaches the car you cheekily do it again.

03. When Leviathan looks away, you grab the controller for Player 1. He can be Player 2 for a few rounds. Upon noticing, he's just confused and thinks he picked up the wrong controller. Until the envy sets in. "But that's my controller," he pouts. "Does it matter? Are you cheating or something?" "No, but..." he doesn't have an excuse, and can't think of any good argument to get his controller back aside from "it's my game..." You get to choose the stage for the next round, winning easily because Leviathan is too distracted by his Player 2 status.

04. You walk up to Satan and put your arm in his empty jacket sleeve. He's not using it. He's at a loss for words trying to figure out what you're up to. "Are you cold? Do you want my jacket?" "No. I'm good." He furrows his brow and stares at you, trying to read you like a book. When he tries to walk away you drag your feet, keeping your arm firmly in that sleeve.

05. You agree to meet Asmodeus out on the town and show up in the most uncoordinated, eye-bleeding outfit you can assemble. You had to raid some of his brother's closets to create it, thus it doesn't fit properly. It turns heads because of how mismatched it is. It's pretty comfortable to wear. Asmodeus is hesitant to approach you. He offers to take you shopping and you turn him down, saying you like your current outfit. You tell him it'd be nice to match and that you'll prepare him an outfit just like yours.

06. You are diligent in your magic studies, always learning new things. Things like body enhancement spells. Spells that will make you really strong for a really short amount of time. Enough time to walk up behind Beelzebub and pick him up like a sack of flour. A guy like him isn't used to that. Beelzebub stiffens up. He's proud you've gotten so strong, but couldn't you have asked first if you wanted to use him for muscle training? It's a little embarrassing. You lift him above your head victoriously and make the most of holding him until your magic wears off.

07. When Belphegor falls asleep with his outdoor clothes on, you take the opportunity to put stuff in his pockets. Fruit, rocks, a Polaroid picture of himself sleeping. They jut out and poke him in the side when he rolls over. He knows it's you behind these mystery items, but you refuse to acknowledge it. If he keeps trying to make you confess, you might have to tie his shoelaces together.

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

Infernal Shadows 02

Synopsis: Being one of the most powerful overlords in Hell, you like to keep up with colonies and overlord plans. Recently with the new extermination date out, you hold your annual gala sooner than usual. You hadn’t expected to get in the middle of the already heated feud between the Radio Demon and the head of Vox Tech.

Warnings: She/Her pronouns used for the reader, mentions of blood, voodoo?, Angel Dust being a horn-bag, Reader is referred too as Madame to the public. Vox and Alastor feud because I live for it.

Song for this chapter: HAUSER - Adagio (Albinoni)

A/N: I’m so glad part one did well! I really liked this idea and hoped other people would too. As always comment if you want to be tagged and I will tag you in the next post! I wanted this to be three parts, but depending on how much I can fit in this chapter and the next one, I’ll see if I need to make four parts. The song at the beginning of this chapter is meant to be played when the line “ The music picked up” Is read. Skip to 5:35 for it to play smoothly, or as smoothly as possible.

Word count: 3.k or something over that idk I got too lazy to count :(

Taglist: @dollops-of-delusion @nebusokuxp @scrunchss @rosedasy @valluvz @chesstras @pishybowl @iaaeav @forgotten-blues @22carolina08 @roboticsuccubus83 @doflamingadonquixote

Navigation!! // Masterlist!!! // Serendipity Writes (event) // Part One. // Part three.

Within, the grand foyer unveiled itself, revealing a sweeping staircase adorned with a rich, mahogany handrail in stark contrast against a black and white color scheme. Crystal chandeliers, dangling from lofty black ceilings, cast their brilliance upon white walls adorned with ornate mirrors. Plush Victorian-era furnishings, upholstered in rich black and white fabrics, adorned the parlor rooms, establishing cozy settings for guests to assemble and engage in enriching conversations. Each room murmured tales of a past era – intricately patterned black and white wallpaper, frames gilded in black to showcase classical art, and a subtle aroma of aged wood and lavender lingering in the air, harmonizing with the monochromatic elegance. The guests walking in all marveled at the details of the mansion.

Charlotte and Vagatha both stepped in, Charlotte in awe of the detailing. A shadow figure bent down slightly to offer her a drink, to which she happily took.

“Vaggie this is all so beautiful. I hope I can make a good impression.” Charlotte said, turning to her partner to ease her nerves. Vagatha just smiled, a hand on her shoulder lovingly.

“You’re gonna do great babe, besides, there’s so many people here, if one likes it I’m sure other people will get on board too.” Vagatha said.

“Or they can laugh at you if one person points out how ridiculous it is.” Husk said, chugging his drink before placing it back on the servers tray.

“Thanks for the kind words Husk.” Vagatha said sarcastically. He just shrugged, looking towards the bar area which was practically calling him over.

Upstairs in your room, you stared at yourself in the mirror as your shadows made the finishing touches on your outfit. Draped in a long, elegant black gown that gracefully embraced your commanding figure, the fabric cascaded like shadows. Delicate chain motifs intertwine with the dress, creating an alluring dance of darkness. A chain belt cinches your waist, a subtle nod to your captivating ability to ensnare and command over your shadows. Completing the regalia, silver chain cuffs adorn your wrists, reflecting both power and refinement.

“Madame, the guests are all in the lobby awaiting your arrival.” One of the shadows said. You nodded, stepping down from your showcase, winking to yourself in the mirror before chuckling to yourself. A shadow approaches you, bowing in respect before holding out a tray with your drink, a contrast to your dark colors. You take the glass in your hand, another shadow lightly putting a thermometer in your drink so it’s the perfect temperature for you, fifteen point five degrees Celsius. The liquid is a light yellow-ish green, Lafite-Rothschild, an expensive French wine you tried in 1906 when you were alive. Lifting it to your lips, you take a long sip and sigh, the spicy and earth notes, mixed with a hint of tobacco and red Barrie’s dance on your tongue like a performance of Gavotte. You pull back with a sigh, setting the glass down, a perfect Ridel Vinum Bordeaux, personally crafted for you as the bottom of the glass is a Smokey black, fading into clear glass towards the top.

“Let’s get this Gala started shall we~?”

In the lobby, guests were socializing amongst themselves. Velvet, Vox and Valentino had split for a short while. After the incident outside, the two overlords wouldn’t stop tantalizing the picture box about his fit of frustration dealing with the Radio Demon. From the lobby, there were large crystal doors revealing the back exterior of the house. The greenery was just perfect, with cobblestone flooring revealing another bloody fountain. Vox stood with his drink, speaking to some sinner he couldn’t remember the name of, about how well his business was going.

“You ever get,” Vox asked, eyeing one of the shadows who stood in a corner, white eyes soulless as they held out drinks to guests. “Creeped out by those, things?” Vox asked, turning back to the sinner. He just scoffed.

“Please, they’re always around and as far as I know, harmless.” The sinner said. At that, a shadow appeared between the two, taking their empty glasses and replacing it with new, full ones. Vox tried his hardest not to seem alarmed at this, and took the glass silently, sipping his drink slowly as it floated away. It was then he took in the shadows appearance. They all looked the same. Tall figures, Smokey outlines, but no feel or hands, just a faded end to their limbs. Their eyes were white and soulless, almost as it they were vacant, a shell of what they used to be. There were no facial features, just two white circles and a thin white line for their mouth. Each one however, had a light Smokey chain around their chest, wrapped in the shape of an X.

“What are the chains for then? They’re pretty much smoke, what do they need chains forever?” Vox asked. The associate laughed, but before he could answer, another overlord stepped in.

“They have chains because they’re claimed souls.” Fredrick Von Eldritch says, his sister Bethesda in toe. The two grin, a shadow following behind them with a tray of their drinks. “If you get invited to the gala long enough, you get a personal one.” He said with a wink, gesturing to the shadow behind the two.

“They’re quite cute once you get used to them.” Bethesda said with a smile, cooing at the shadow lightly. Yet, it still remained expressionless.

“Actually, now that you say that.” The sinner says, looking around for a moment. “It’s been awfully quiet with a laugh track being played.” He says, referring to Alastor. Vox just rolls his eyes.

“Who gives a shit about where that old timey freak is?” Vox asks. Fredrick and Bethesda snicker to each other, catching Vox’s attention.

“Probably hunting for his dear Madame.” Bethesda said dramatically, laying her head on her brothers shoulder and batting her lashes playfully. Fredrick and the sinner laughed at his sisters antics, but Vox grew serious.

“What does that mean? He knows her?” Vox asked, to which Fredrick scoffed, finishing his drink before reaching for another off the shadows server tray.

“Of course he does. She died before him, and they’re the closest overlords in time period. Well, aside from Zestial and her.” Fredrick explained. Vox didn’t say anything else, instead looking to the red ‘moon’ of hell, before glancing at the blood fountain. He had heard rumors about being at the Madame’s table, and how she gave the inside to all her projects and plans before the next extermination. Apparently, this year was supposed to be ‘different’ as people had been talking.

“When does this dinner start anyway? We’ve been standing out here for two hours.” Vox said annoyed.

“In a few minutes, Madame will make her grand entrance. She will socialize with the guests as it is polite to have one on one time with them. Then she will spend the rest of the time while the orchestra gets together deciding on contenders to sit at her table.” A shadow walking by said, stopping to stare at Vox. “Madame is always watching.” It then said, turning to serve other guests. Vox said nothing, instead turning on his heel and making his way inside the mansion. How could someone feel suffocated outside? Fredrick and Bethesda said nothing, watching him go, but sharing a glance between each other before making their leave too, leaving the sinner all by his lonesome.

Inside, Charlotte and Vagatha conversed about how she could get people behind her project.

“Maybe if I sing-“

“Please no. These people are too…” Vagatha said, glancing around the room. Everyone seemed too, fake. Vagatha knew Charlotte being herself around these people would do absolutely no good to the hotel, and though she hated telling Charlotte these things, she knew her kindness would be frowned upon, and made fun of. “Serious for that kind of thing.” Vagatha finished, taking a sip of her champagne. She settled for champagne in a flute while Charlotte drank water, wanting to hydrate herself in hopes to calm her nerves.

“I heard that Madame might be making her entrance soon.” Charlotte said nervously, looking around. She half expected her parents to show up, but knew how they rarely liked getting involved in overlord affairs. She’d be surprised if they showed up.

“Then when she does you can try to pitch your idea to her.” Vagatha said supportively. Charlotte just smiled and nodded, hoping someone would listen to her. She had tried practicing on two sinners moments ago, to which they both laughed and called her delusional. The defeat was beginning to get to her, and she hadn’t even started yet.

With Velvet, she began studying the interior of the old-styled mansion. She was trying her hardest to not be too rude about it, but of course she had her comments, but ultimately kept them to herself. Cramoisie, your fashion line, was the top fashion brand in hell, everyone wanted a piece of it. Velvet had never had an article for herself, despite trying her hardest to get something, anything, even a sample. But people feigned for it like drugs. Velvets line was successful sure, but with your validation and guidance, she could become perfection, the same way you were. Everyone in hell looked up to you, shit, you had even gotten Lilith’s praise as she was photographed wearing a custom piece you designed for her. Your work was art in its purist form, and Velvet kept a close eye on her other colleagues to make sure they didn’t fuck your chance up. Velvet had her assistant hold samples and sketches of designs Velvet had been working on, wanting to show you her best work in hopes of winning you over. She could brag about having you support her line, and her fans would die of excitement. Maybe, she could get you to design her a custom piece, or Velvet could design one for you. The possibilities were limitless, if you agreed to meet with her of course. But that was all the more reason why she needed to make sure she had a seat at your table tonight. She needed to get close to you.

“Are you fucking high?” Velvet whispered to Valentino, who just chuckled softly at her.

“What’s the matter hermosa? Just enjoy the Gala, we’re here to have fun right?” He asked with a giggle. Velvet huffed, deciding to find Vox, hoping he could straighten Valentino out. Valentino would not fuck up her chance tonight.

Near the large staircase in the middle of the room, Alastor stood, glass of whiskey in his clawed hands. He smiles, humming to himself while quietly back up into a wall, careful to scan the room quickly before he disappears into the shadows. Then, moments later, appears in a room separate from the gala. It’s a study, your study. Alastor takes a step forward and quickly the shadows in the room seemed to deepen, casting larger, more dramatic silhouettes that seemed to dance on the walls. The interplay of darkness and light only heightened the mysterious allure of the study. In the midst of this chiaroscuro ambiance, Alastor found himself surrounded by an atmosphere that mirrored the complex nature of the figure depicted in the portrait hanging above the fireplace, which was in the far back wall of the study. It was the only light source in the room. Black wooden shelves lined against the tall walls, showcasing famous pieces of literature, all hand picked and to your liking. The fire place, crafted with dark marble, commanded his attention. Above the mantel, a striking portrait of Madame hung, capturing his focus, like a trance. The image portrayed a being universally admired, yet equally feared; someone who elicited both admiration and intimidation all at once, you.

“Hm, hiding now are we?” Alastor asks with a grin, tutting lightly. “That’s not very proper of you Madame~” He says, calling out to you. Seconds later, a dark shadow appears in the corner of the room, taking up the entire corner, before a shadowy figure steps out. Similar to the servant’s out in the lobby, Alastor’s eye twitch’s slightly.

“Oh don’t be so pissy. You know no one gets to see me before my entrance.” You say, the shadow expressionless, but Alastor can hear your tone through the figure, taunting him. He sighs, setting his staff on a slant along his foot.

“And here I thought I could connect with an old friend.” Alastor said with a chuckle, staring down the shadowy figure, hoping his gaze would ease you to show yourself to him. But alas, stuck in your ways, you didn’t show yourself, instead laughing, though the figure did not open its mouth, making your ‘shadow a-presence’ all the more eerie.

“If you really want to speak with me it can wait until my entrance. I should be done soon.” You say, before Alastor just smiles, tossing his staff from hand to hand.

“Well if you’re really going to make me wait, mind you speed the process up a bit? You know it doesn’t take much to make you look breath-taking.” Alastor compliments, but earns a scoff from you.

“Oh please, don’t start with me ‘Radio Demon.’” You mock, before the shadow figure begins to step back.

“Wait, a moment before you go.” Alastor says, standing his staff on the floor. The shadow figure stops, before you speak again.

“Make it quick. You know how much energy it takes to keep this up.” You say.

“So, about this hotel business. I know she’s planning to talk to you about it.”

“Yes the idea you tell me so much about.” You say sarcastically. Alastor had told you bits and pieces about the princess’s project, but didn’t tell you what it was for exactly, leaving you to wonder how important it really was if even he wouldn’t speak on it.

“Well you know how much I crave entertainment. Is it possible to make a request for the seating arraignment tonight?” Alastor asks. You laugh, figure still unmoving.

“Humorous to think you even have a seat. You’ve been gone for what? Seven years?” You say with a scoff.

“You’ve been gone decades my dear, you didn’t even show up to your last twenty gala’s, having your pity shadows do it for you. I doubt you should be speaking on the matter.”

At that, you chuckle to yourself before the shadow begins to back into the corner, black smoke enveloping the corner like a cloud. “I presume you would be correct. Well, I’m off now. Don’t sneak into my quarters again.” You say finally before disappearing. Alastor just grins, stepping into his own shadow, joining the other guests.

The shadows had slowly but, eventually ushered the guests into the lobby, everyone gathering around the staircase as the shadows lined up against the railings, the orchestra playing the music you had specifically requested. You were about to make your grand entrance, something you hadn’t done in centuries. Everyone stood around, awaiting your arrival, the shadows momentarily disappearing to give the guests more space to crowd around. Candles lit along the walls, as well as floating lights appearing going up the staircase. There, the shadows took their place, two on each step on opposite sides, facing each other. The music picked up, the lights focusing at the top of the stairs. Black smoke began to roll down the steps slowly, the anticipation for your arrival growing. The music gets calm for a moment, a larger shadow figure standing at the top of the staircase. It’s larger than any of the other shadows in the room, standing at fifteen feet tall. It speaks in a monotone voice, but loud and commanding.

“Thank you all for your attendance tonight. The Crimson Gala is held once every year to start the new year with all those who survived the extermination. This being said, Madame would like to say her personal congratulations for not being apart of the bloodshed this year. While the past years she has used me to say that she will unfortunately not be in attendance, I am pleased to say that tonight, along with all the new guests, she will make her grand entrance. Presenting to you, the prowess of darkness and queen of shadows, Madame.”

The lights shine bright, and the shadow vanishes quickly. Velvet shushes Vox and Valentino, eyes practically bulging out of her skull to see you. Alastor just stares, waiting in anticipation. Charlie claps her hands quietly to herself while Vaggie just smiles. Rosie sips her glass, eyes waiting to see what outfit you’ve put together this time. At the top of the staircase, a large black smokey circle opens at the bottom of the floor, smoke swirling upwards slowly in a tornado form, smoke getting quicker as it swirls around itself. It gets larger, and guests closer to the stairs have to back up a bit as the wind picks up. Carmilla turns her face to the side, not wanting the wind to mess up her hair too much. Finally, the music picks up again, the peak point in the song, which lasts eight seconds, before the smoke falls to the side in one swoop, leaving you in the midst, now on display for all guests to see. The music continues, the chains against your dress glistening under the light. The music continues the play as you take steps down, looking at the guests. There’s a serious expression on your face, but somehow neutral all the same. Your shadows had added last minute black lace gloves, which went up to your forearm. The bottom of your dress had a lace trimming, as well as the bodice being laced with trim along the bust area. The jewelry was a simple black diamond crystal on a metal chain around your neck, paired with black diamond earrings. The cuff links on your hand remained all the same though. Finally reaching the end of the steps, everyone clapped, now finally being graced with your presence.

Velvet was in awe, staring at you with wide eyes like a child being gifted the most precious thing. Her excitement grew enormously, watching you shake hands and socialize with guests. She had never seen you before, after you had gone ghost for centuries, hardly anyone had photos of you. Hell she didn’t even know what you sounded like.

Charlie was so excited to meet you. She hadn’t seen you in, forever, and was now finally excited to be seen as your equal. Well, that was what she had hoped at least. Having seen a portrait of you in her parents' home when she was younger, she learned of the close relationship between Lilith and you. The anticipation had built over the years, and now, finally, she looked forward to being seen as your equal. Her hope was to hopefully get your support for the hotel, aiming to elevate her standing in the eyes of others. With your backing, she believed people would take both her and the redemption project more seriously, fostering a genuine desire for redemption. Maybe it would even work.

Husk smiled as he watched you socialize with guests. He was glad to finally see you back out again. He never knew why you went into hiding of course, but he never had the balls to ask, so he just stood quiet. When you disappeared, it was after a particularly rough extermination, and he knew something had happened, he just didn’t know what. Since then, the world only had glimpses of you to go on. Some sinners were starting to think you were a myth, since you never showed your face at the Crimson Gala, especially since you were the host.

Vox was taken aback, a sense of confusion and unease settling within him. Your presence had caught him off guard; he had anticipated something different, perhaps an older figure. The unexpected impact left him feeling uneasy, realizing the gravity of your influence. It dawned on him why Velvet had stressed the importance of making a favorable impression. Apart from Zestial and the twins, you stood as one of the strongest and most enduring overlords. In Vox's mind, securing your alliance was imperative for the success of his company. Your potential support would make his endeavors foolproof. Everything had to be flawless – not for any personal reasons, of course, but solely for the sake of his company. He needed you.

Making your rounds to guests, you began to get closer to your colleagues. With a wave to Stolas, and a nod to Zeezie, you run into the Radio Demon himself, Alastor. He grins, sharp teeth getting you. He smiles and nods his head, and you nod back. Alastor takes in your stoic expression, before carefully taking in your outfit.

“My, my, Madame, you’ve truly outdone yourself tonight. Your choice in attire is as captivating as ever – a perfect blend of elegance and sensibility. Quite the spectacle for the grand event, don’t you think?” He asked, holding his arm out to you. You take it, and the two of you walk around the lobby together, conversing.

“Well you don’t look to bad for yourself. Maybe going into hibernation was perfect for you.” You say back, and he grins.

“You’re too kind darling.” He says, dead heart quickening. He puts a hand to his chest, mocking fragility. “Your words leave me breathless my dear.” He says with false dramatics. You roll your eyes and smack his arm playfully.

“Oh please, your ego is quite large enough already, yes?” You ask. He doesn’t say much else, but instead, gently moves you to the side while you look at your shadows, now waltzing around in the middle of the lobby, putting on a performance.

“Did you plan that?” Alastor asks. You shake your head.

“No, but the music is perfect for it, so I let them be. They’re already trapped with me, I might as well make them useful.” You say, and Alastor just hums, a laugh track playing. However, as the two of you walk, his track screeches to a halt upon seeing Vox approach the two of you.

“Madame.” Vox says, nodding his head. His expression is serious, and though you’ve heard of him, you’ve never seen him.

“Ah hello. Vox I presume?” You ask, free hand reaching forward to shake his own outstretched hand. The two of you shake hands, and Alastor can’t ignore the way he fights to keep his smile. Why he could just shove his staff right into that flace faced fuckers scree-

“Alastor, I suppose you’ve met Mr.Vox before, correct?” You ask. Alastor nods with a smile, and you notice the way it stretches almost painfully across his face. It makes you uneasy, but you ignore the feeling. He’d surely tell about what this is about later on in the night you supposed.

“Why yes we have! I’ve made him loose his signal quite a few times.” Alastor says with a laugh, his laugh track playing. Vox doesnt say anything, though he doesnt have too as his eye twitching had given enough away. The two clearly did not like each other. Than again, you had felt the same way about Alastor when you first met him, so the feeling was understandable.

“Madame, a dance?” Vox asked, turning his attention back to you. You thought for a moment, before untangling your arm from Alastors and nodding to Vox, taking his outstretched hand to you and leading you to the dance floor, which now had a couple other sinners dancing as well. Alastor held onto his staff tight, but relaxed as you discreetly slid him a card. In white with black lettering, cursive font. Seat number five. He was invited to your table. Guaranteed a seat. That was enough to have him back in light spirits, now searching out his dear friend Rosie to share the good news.

Velvet had been looking for you all over, her assistant close in toe. She had tried her hardest to get to you when you initially made your enterance, but alas you had been too overcrowded with people for her to get to you. She had heard rumors about how you hated rudeness and disrespect. That meant no interruptions, and no loud speaking, or vulgar language. She was sure to keep herself in check, and that meant her colleagues too. So, naturally, you could imagine her shock upon seeing Vox dancing with you on the dance floor, black dress twirling at your feet. You looked so regal, so elegant, flawless. She wanted to be just like you. She waited patiently on the sidelines, waiting for the dance to end. She could see the two of you having a conversation, but couldn’t pinpoint what about.

“So, I presume you’re one of the, newer overlords?” You asked as the two of you danced. Vox chuckled, leading you slowly.

“New? Well, maybe to you I would be. I heard you haven’t really left your own head for quite some time.” Vox says lowly. You nod, letting him dip you.

“Yes that would be correct. So what are you supposed to be exactly?” You ask, quite unsure of his purpose. Overlords are meant to have a strong leading purpose in hell, so what was his?

“Well, you’re looking at the head of Vox Tech. A software company.” He says, and you hum in understanding.

“So modern technology.” You confirm, and he nods, pearly whites shining brightly back at you.

“You’re looking at the future Madame.” Vox says, spinning you quickly, before bringing you close by your hip.

“Interesting. So, what’s your social influence?” You ask. Vox thinks for a moment, before laughing to himself.

“People have televisions in all their homes. Any piece of modern technology comes strictly from me. With a little mind control, there isn’t any influence I don’t have.” Vox says, noticing a sinner walk by with a smart watch, to which he holds a finger up to you, sending himself through it, and then to another sinner with their smartphone, making his way around the room in seconds before he’s back in front of you, stepping in time for the next number. “See? Nothing I can’t do.” He says with a wink. You nod slowly, looking around the room. Being back out in the spotlight after being gone for so long makes you feel a bit, behind. But with an overlord like this in your circle, maybe this could be a way for you to keep up with the current world, get you back up to pace. The dance finally comes to a close, and the two of you bow to one another, before you summon a card, handing it to Vox. Seat number nine. Vox grinned at you, giving you a nod. You nod back, before looking at another sinner who’s asked to speak with you. With that, you leave Vox at the dance floor, white card in hand. His spot at your table was secured. But, this made his emotions churn even more. What was this feeling he had? He was happy yes, but for the companies sake. But, maybe for once, he could mix just a little business with pleasure.

Charlotte had lost her partner at the bar and had been looking for her for quite some time. However, instead of finding Vagatha, she found you instead. You had seemed to be finishing a conversation with Vox, and though she disliked him, she took her chance the moment she saw you walking away.

“Excuse me, Madame- Miss- Um.” Charlotte said quickly, causing you to stop in your tracks. She got closer to you, now a few inches away. It was then she realized how tall you were compared to her. You were easily around seven feet, or just under that. With your heels that was. You looking down at her made her feel intimidated, small, like the child. But, feeling her nerves rise, she began to ramble again. “I know you probably have a lot to do tonight and I don’t want to take up your time, I just want you to hear me out, if that’s okay with you of course.” Charlotte said quickly, pausing to inhale. You narrowed your eyes at her, snapping your fingers and causing a shadow to appear next to you, singular glass on the tray. It was the same tall shadow from earlier, with the same drink. Again, using testing the temperature of the drink, before nodding to you so you could take it. You lifted the glass to your lips, maintaining eye contact with Charlotte as you drank the wine in one go, putting it down on the tray with a sigh.

“Go on.” You replied, now intrigued. You knew who she was. “You’re the girl with the hotel? Lucifer and Lilith’s child, correct?” You asked. Charlotte smiled, stars appearing in her eyes as she gushed.

“You know who I am?” She asked surprised. You nodded, cracking a small smile for the first time tonight, causing many eyes to stare in shock. You hardly ever smiled. In fact, there were three counts ever of you smiling in hell. Once, when you first got to hell, killing and claiming territory, and smiling once you finally settled down. The second being after World War One, when so many souls came to you seeking ‘help’ yet only being met with contracts. Third, being just before the extermination you disappeared after. You had gone through your belongings from Earth that managed to get brought to you from the surface, and was looking at family photos with one other overlord. Zestial. Now, at the gala, here was Lucifer’s brat, as some would call, making you crack a grin at her giddiness.

“Of course I know who you are. Do you forget I know your mother? You’re practically a niece of mine at this point.” You say, motioning at Charlotte to walk with you. “Now, what is this hotel I’ve heard about?” You ask. She beams at this and follows excitedly.

“OkaysobasicallyIhavethishotelandit’scalledthe’HazbinHotel’whichisforsinnerswhowantobebetterandredeemthemselvestotryand-“ You stopped her, allowing her to take a breath of air after rambling for so long. You lead her outside, finding a nearby bench to sit on. With how quickly she spoke, she needed all the ‘fresh’ air she could get right?

“Why are you speaking so quickly? Also, sinners who want to better themselves? Where would you find those?” You ask with a laugh, the same tall shadow appearing with a glass for you. Again, you sip on your drink as Charlotte collects herself together.

“Usually if I explain slowly people cut me off and I never get to finish, so I’ve gotten used to just saying everything as quickly as possible so they don’t cut me off and actually listen to what I have to say.” Charlotte says, again rather quickly. “Like I was saying; the Hazbin Hotel is a place for sinners who want to better themselves to possibly try to get into heaven through redemption, and I know what you’re thinking, we’ve all died and got sent here, but I believe people can change and that everyone deserves second chances.” Charlotte explained. She saw the look of confusion on your face, and began to speak again. “We already have two residents, who are making strides to be better people every day with group activities and I believe it’s working. If I could just get other people on board, people like you on board who actually believe in my cause, then we can get rid of extermination and maybe save some people here.” Charlotte explained. You thought for a moment, and the fact you hadn’t laughed in her face yet gave her some hope that maybe she had gotten through to you. You stood up, setting your empty glass on the tray before the shadow disappeared.

“Honestly,” You said with a sigh, looking around, your eyes landing on your shadows serving other guests. “The entire project sounds delusional.” You said sharply. Charlotte looked down at this, defeated, before standing as well.

“Well, thank you for hearing me out I guess. You’re the only other person who has aside from Alastor. So, thank you for your time.” Charlotte said, turning to walk back inside the gala, head hanging low with tears brimming her eyes. Maybe it was the connection to her mother, maybe it was because she reminded you of her mother. But, something had to change.

“I didn’t say we were done speaking Charlotte.” You said sharply again. She stopped and tensed up at that, before turning around, wiping a tear that slipped down her cheek.

“W-what?” She asked. You stepped forward to her, putting your hands flat together before smoke encased them. Then seconds later it was gone, and in your hands was a white card. You handed it to her with a nod.

“It sounds delusional. But, maybe someone will like that about you.” You said. She read the card, face dropping once she realized what it meant.

“So, so I can sit with you tonight? I can pitch my idea?” She asked excitedly. You nodded, patting her shoulder.

“Yes you may. I’ll allow you to have your time. You get thirty minutes, there will be overlords and royalty there, I’m sure someone is bound to take an interest in it.” You say. Charlotte squeals excitedly before jumping up and down, clapping her hands.

“Oh my goodness! Thank you so so so much!! You won’t regret this I swear!” Charlotte said, and you just nodded.

“Of course I won’t. I don’t make mistakes.” You say, before walking past her. “Oh, and thank Alastor for that. He was insistent you be present at my table tonight.” You say to her. She’s left standing outside in shock, watching as you walk back into the lobby to socialize with other guests.

It seemed Velvet had finally caught you, rushing her assistant to follow you as she made her way over to you.

“Madame, you look absolutely breathtaking tonight! Your presence here is like a beacon of individuality and charisma,” she exclaims, eyes sparkling. You look her up and down for a moment, stopping in your tracks to listen to her. Something feels, odd about this one. “I’ve been ardently following your unique style for ages, and it’s truly an honor to be in your presence. The way you effortlessly blend boldness with subtlety, it’s unparalleled, truly outstanding. Now, I’ve ventured into a daring new fashion brand, and I can’t help but envision you as the unrivaled star in my collection. Picture it: the illustrious Madame, gracing the world with a revolutionary expression of style. This would be the perfect way to make your way back into the public eye, and of course you would look ravishing doing so.” Velvet said, her assistant handing you sketches of Velvets designs, and photographs of some of her work on her models. “So, what do you say Madame? Will you be the luminary of a new era in Hell’s fashion?” Velvet says. You grow quiet for a moment. Aside from Rosie, you’ve had no other overlord come into the fashion realm, and Rosie is only partially in it as a side hustle, but everyone knows it’s your thing. The designs are things you would never wear, bold and odd colors together, like a child’s clothing line.

“Is this for children?” You ask. Velvet nearly chokes and her assistant tenses up.

“No Madame. It’s modern fashion.” Velvet says cautiously. She knows what she’s doing. Correcting you. No one ever does that. You don’t need to be corrected because you know what you’re looking at. A sad fashion designer who wants you to slap your name on her sloppy work so if it goes up in flames it’s your reputation taking the fall, not her’s.

“So all your models look like they came from a whore house? Correct?” You ask. Velvet’s jaw drops and her assistant hides a laugh. Velvet, inhaling softly, tries her hardest not to cry on the spot. You’re her idol. She can’t fuck this up.

“No Madame! Not at all!” She says, showing you a design she had made personally for you. Based on your other collections, she knows your favorite color is black, so that’s a plus. All she had to do was add a bit more, of her flair to it. It was a black jumpsuit, with a fur coat that dropped down to the knees, black with white fur around the edges of the coat and the cuffs. The sketch wasn’t half bad, and quite frankly better than the others. Maybe it was the forgiving mood Charlotte had put you in. Velvet hands you the design and you skim over it, taking in the details, the hair and eye makeup, the shoes and jewelry notes written on the side. The sketches aren’t bad, but modern fashion isn’t your fashion.

“I’ll consider it. Do you mind if I keep these?” You ask. Velvet shakes her head, handing you the folder from her assistants hands.

“Please, take whatever you’d like Madame!” Velvet says. You nod, flipping through the pages.

“You’ll hear from me soon. In the meantime, I want new sketches of these designs. Modern fashion is fast fashion. Nothing stays memorable that way. You want to be good?” You ask her, and she nods quickly. “Then be better. Modesty and elegance are what people strive for. It radiates power, and everyone is greedy for that. If you can sell that through an item, you won’t ever go out of style.” You say, handing her back the folder, keeping the sketch she’d done for you. Well, at least you liked something. Vevelt nodded her head and watched you walk away, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Um, miss?” Her assistant asked.

“What?” Velvet asked annoyingly.

“She left a card on the folder.”

At that , Velvets eyes snapped down at the folder, before she screamed in excitement. Seat number six. She was invited to your table. Mission accomplished. Now, with only six seats left to fill, you were off to talk to your other guests. The night had proved to be interesting, and you knew your encore would not disappoint.

[derinwrites]

Plotting a story -- inductive and deductive plotting

When it comes to plotting habits in writing fiction, there’s a scale. Most people label the ends of this scale ‘gardener’ and ‘architect’, although the terms ‘plotter’ and ‘pantser’ are also in use. If you’re a writer, you probably know this scale, but I’ll briefly explain for those who haven’t and then get into my model.

An architect, or plotter, is a writer who thrives with a lot of planning. Like an architect planning a house, they assess what story they’re telling in advance and what needs to happen to tell it. They assess the materials, plan and measure the acts (if they’re using an act structure), decide on the climax and how the characters will develop and map those onto the plan. Then, with a plan, they write.

A gardener, or pantser, by contrast, writes ‘by the seat of their pants’. Pantsers may or may not know where their story is going in broad terms, but they certainly don’t know in any detail beyond ‘this’ll be a cool scene if I can get it there’. To these people, writing is less like architecture and more like gardening – you can build your beds and plant your seeds, but a whole lot of what’s going to happen next depends on how the plants grow, and all you can do is keep an eye on them and prune or train them as necessary. You can dream about what your garden will look like in the spring, but you won’t know until you get there.

Plotters and pantsers are not two distinct categories of writers, but ends on a scale. The writer who ad libs sentence by sentence with no goal at all is extremely rare, as is the writer who starts from an overall view of the plot and cuts it down and down until they’re planning on the sentence level. Most writers tend towards one end of the scale to a greater or lesser degree, but very few write completely using one method and none of the other.

The plotter/pantser scale is one that many writers find incredibly useful to help them understand their own process. By knowing where you are on this scale, you can better understand how you write and better understand how the habits and advice of other writers may or may not be useful to you. (A pantser trying to meticulously plot their story in advance following some formula they found in a writing advice book is wasting their time.) However, this model has little utility beyond that, which is why I find it more useful to address the phenomenon not as a scale, but as the manifestation of two separate skills, that I like to call deductive and inductive plotting.

In logic, deductive reasoning is when you take broad rules or generalities and apply them to specific circumstances to predict things – you start big and go little. “Things fall when you drop them, therefore if I drop this rock it will fall” is deduction. Inductive reasoning is the opposite – you start with small observations and build them into a pattern to predict something bigger. “I dropped seventeen objects and they all fell; therefore, perhaps when you drop things, they fall” is induction. (There’s also abductive reasoning, but that doesn’t fit into our plotting skill metaphor.)

In my experience, these skills match to the habits of plotters and pantsers. Plotters, or architects, assemble a big picture of the story they want and then deduce their individual scenes and fill in the lines to map to their overall general picture. They are deductive plotters. If you ask a deductive plotter to start writing without an outline, they become lost and their output seems directionless and erratic – how can they know what to write if they don’t have an outline to break things down from? Deductive plotters tend to think of stories in terms of overall structures and themes that can be broken down into characters and events and put on the page.

Pantsers, or gardeners, are the opposite. They’re if-then writers, and build the plot upwards from the individual actions of their characters and create the story from the sum total of those interactions. They are inductive plotters. Brandon Sanderson often describes a pantser’s first draft as just a really thorough outline, and he’s not wrong; a pantser needs the scene-by-scene minutae to know what happens next. How are they supposed to build an outline if they don’t know what happens next? If you ask an inductive plotter to build and follow a thorough outline, their writing often comes out as wooden and arbitrary as they have to force the actions of the characters between the restrictive rails of predetermined plot. Inductive potters tend to think of stories in terms of characters and discrete events that build up into something bigger with a consistent mood or theme. Inductive plotters sometimes complain of their characters having a life of their own and defying the plot – this is the effect of their moment-by-moment if-then reasoning of the character’s next action not matching their initial predictions, and surprising them.

Again, the vast majority of writers have some rudimentary skill in both inductive and deductive plotting. A strong deductive plotter (architect) can usually sit down and infer line-by-line a scene that their outline lists as “the three characters meet in the coffee shop and share evidence, Rosemary sees Harold’s notes and realises where the gun went.” Similarly, a strong inductive plotter (gardener) usually has some idea of where their story is headed next even if they don’t know how long it’ll take to get there or what complications will pop up in the meantime. But I’ve never met a writer who is equally strong in both inductive and deductive plotting; most writers specialise heavily in one, and tend towards one end of the scale. I think this is because there’s such a huge overlap in utility; when we start learning to write, we start plotting in whatever way is easiest for us, and train that specific method over decades. There’s little reason to invest even more decades into getting just as good with the other method when your favoured method already achieves everything you want.

I find that viewing this scale as the result of two skills, inductive and deductive plotting, can be very helpful in understanding specifically how we write. Thinking of myself as a heavily inductive plotter with rudimentary deductive plotting skills has really helped me understand why some methods of writing work for me and others don’t, as well as help nail down specific weaknesses in my writing. I also find it useful to think of writing styles and strategies not as some unchangeable characteristic we were born with (as the plotter/pantser scale is frequently envisioned), but as skills that can be built. You don’t write the way you write because you happen to be a plotter or pantser – you write the way you write because that’s what you learned to do! And it was hard! And you did it! Be proud of your skill!

[thydungeongal]

I've talked a lot about the specific types expectations that post-TSR D&D encodes in its players and I do think it's funny how some of the stuff I talk about sometimes seems to feel, like, huge and revelatory to people.

"What do you mean not all RPGs assume the player characters to be an adventuring party that goes on adventures together? What are they even supposed to do if there's no adventure?" Assume that D&D is like an Avengers film, about a group of heroes assembling and going up against adversity to save the day. A lot of games are soap operas, where the players create the central characters, pro and ant agonist alike, and then they're thrown into a powderkeg together.

"If there is no challenge rating or similar mechanic, how is the GM supposed to know if a given combat encounter is something the player characters can overcome?" A lot of games don't have combat encoded into the game as an activity that characters are expected to partake in just to demonstrate their strength. In fact, if combat does happen in lots of games it's usually as a last resort and something that requires an active player choice for it to happen. You won't get ambushed by bandits who are willing to fight to the death for no discernible reason just so your characters can demonstrate their strength and get one of their daily intake of five combat encounters a day (or whatever number games assume these days idk).

"Wait, there are modes of play besides combat that can have deep and granular rules? How can such a thing even work?" It can and it rules.

[sky-scribbles]

OK, but I love that Essek might be appearing in the Mighty Nein series before he meets the Nein! It's not just me wanting More Essek (though I do) or wanting to see more of what was going on with his dealings with the Assembly (which I also do). I think this could be super fucking interesting from a narrative construction standpoint.

Because I cannot see how you can include Essek from early in the series and not make it clear to the audience that he's the Dynasty traitor loooong before the Nein find out. Essek having stolen the beacons will not be a surprise. It looks to me like the cast are swapping out surprise for a fuckton of suspense. (Suspense vs surprise was explained to me when I was studying narrative structure as 'surprise is when a bomb goes off that the audience didn't know was there. Suspense is when they see the bomb being placed and have to sit there begging the characters to realise it's there.' In this analogy, Essek is the bomb.)

When we watched C2, the question was is Essek the traitor? In the M9 show, the question for new watchers will be when will the Nein realise that Essek is the traitor? When Essek meets the Nein, the countdown starts ticking; people will know that he is a danger. He is manipulating them. He is going to hurt them. Will the Nein realise before it's too late? But then Essek starts really befriending them, showing more of his loneliness and vulnerability, and... I think the mood will shift. Oh, shit, he really cares about them, doesn't he? What will the Nein do if they find out? Do I even want them to find out? What if they reject him and it makes him worse? He can't keep this up much longer, this is unbearable, they're going to find out - OH FUCK THEY'RE FINDING OUT -

It's such a fascinating choice and I think it goes to show that adaptation is an art form in itself! The actual events in the world will be the same, or at least very similar, but a new format means you can show those events in a totally new way and create a completely different tone! Narrative structure is the fucking coolest! I'm so excited for this show!

[mooooonnnzz]

I saw your earlier post on Platonic fics and Im a sucker for them so here u go : father figure stanford headcannons maybe takes place after he comes back from the portal, reader is an adventurous spirit that works at the shack and maybe secretly helped stan get his brother back? Idk im just throwing things here lol

You Know I Love You Still

Stanford x daughter!reader

💗 stanford dad hc!!

💗 i literally saw the request it and started writing and got a lil carried away 😭 its like half story half hc? if that makes sense

💗 requests r so open rn! i def dont have any fav requests… (anything platonic or familial will be the first ones i write i LOVE those types of requests)

💗 the age of the reader is young like 16/17? ik that lowkey contradicts with the time line but wtv STANFORD DAD HC!!

💗 it’s a little bit of everything? like it’s not only just reader and stanford, the twins r also included in some scenarios and also stan

💗 a big happy family 😭

💗 fem reader gulp i completely didnt realize until i was done that i used she/her when referring to the reader

💗 next fic will use gender neutral pronouns I SWUEAR!!

💗2k words

💗 i apologize for rhe misspell and mistakes i didnt catch in advance

Working together with your Uncle Stan to build the portal to bring your dad back to the right dimension was tiresome. Nights were sleepless and many of them were spent in the underground lab, where you and Stan did everything possible to assemble the portal. Trying to keep such a secret away from the twins and Soos was unexpectedly hard. The knowledge of hiding someone so vital to you and to your Uncle Stan was weighing down on you and him. Then came the day where his awaited arrival was promised. You could barely sleep that night. You thought of so many different possibilities and scenarios of how you would greet him. Would he remember you? Did he ever miss you? Does he even love you?!

The next day came in like a tornado and before you knew it, you were protectively standing in front of the button; trying your absolute hardest to prevent the twins from pressing the button.

“Why do you guys want to stop the portal so badly!” You yelled over the loud swirling wind that emitted from the portal. “Because it’s dangerous!” Dipper retorted, using his arm to shield him from the debris whizzing past him. “G-Grunkle Stan isn’t who he says he is!” Dipper said, stepping closer to you.

“Whatever you guys saw or heard isn’t what you think it is! Please, you need to believe me.” You begged, your eyes brimming with tears. You’ve worked so hard to get this portal up and running and you weren’t going to let Dipper or anyone stop you from being able to see your dad.

Soos came up from behind and wrapped his arms around you. “I’m sorry, dude.” He picked you up and took you away from the button. “Soos, no!” You thrashed around his hold. You pound your fists against his arms, hoping it’ll loosen his grip on you but nothing you did worked. No matter how much you begged and fought against him, he didn’t budge. He just held you closer to him, muttering ‘I’m Sorry’ under his breath.

“This all stops now!” Dipper raised his hand, palm flattened out, ready to push the button when Stan appeared at the doorway. “Don’t touch that button!”

He’s hunched forward, hand leaning on the frame of the doorway as he pants. Relief washes over you upon seeing Stan. Silence fills the room for a minute and all you can hear is your heart hammer against your ribcage. Stan walks towards Dipper, beckoning him to not press the button.

“If you just let me explain—“ He’s cut off by his watch repeatedly beeping. Suddenly the ground begins to shake.

The portal powers up and the circle enlarges. The electricity spazzes and travels throughout the room, creating streaks of electrical power. Your feet lift off the ground and soon everyone’s floating up in the air. The wind is fierce and it’s whipping through every direction, pushing you towards the wall.

Dipper yells at Mable to turn off the portal before it causes anymore damage. She tugs herself closer to the button using a stray cable and while she wraps herself around the neck holding up the button, Stan is begging her to listen to him and to not press the button. He’s soon tackled by Soos who pushes him away from Mable. They all fight with each other and you’re watching with a bated breath.

The portal pulses with power, sending you back first into the wall. Stan and Dipper bicker back and forth and Mable is torn with the decision of either believing her brother or her Grunkle. She lowers her hand, eyes closed and you're almost convinced she’s going to press the button when she lets go of the button. She floats up with her arms raised. “Grunkle Stan, I believe you.” She says.

“Mable, are you crazy?! We’re all gonna—!”

The world flashes white and you're immediately knocked out. You awaken to yourself plummeting face first down to the floor. You groan, pushing yourself up with one hand and the other wiping off the dust on your face. Looking around you can see your family scattered around the room, each of them slowly waking up from whatever happened and stumbling back to their feet.

Your head quickly whips towards the portal and your heart lurches into your throat upon seeing a figure step out of it. He stands still, staring straight ahead as he takes off his hood and goggles. And what hid behind them was your father.

After the initial shock of meeting the one behind the three books and the reveal of him being related to Stan was pushed aside, you presented yourself with the help of Stan. “H-Hi, Dad.” You awkwardly greet yourself.

His eyes stop on you and he freezes, eyes blown wide and mouth slightly ajar. He takes a minute to process the absurdity of the situation before he’s snapping back to consciousness. He blinks once, his mouth stuttering as he finds the right words to say. He then blinks again, stepping a cautious step towards you. Your name softly spills out of his mouth and your heart soars hearing your Dad finally utter your name again.

You take a step forward and then another and another until you’re face to face with him. Being closer to him allowed you to see how much he has aged since the last time you saw him. “Dad…” You whisper, throwing yourself into him.

A light wheeze escapes his mouth from the sudden impact of your body crashing on him. Once he recovers, his arms are quickly wrapped around you, hugging you with so much warmth and love you almost sobbed right then and there.

He snuggled his face against your hair, breathing in your familiar scent he missed so dearly while he was away. “We have so much to catch up on.” You say so quietly that he almost lost your words if it wasn’t for you being directly near his ear. He hums in affirmation, cherishing the long awaited reunion with his daughter.

“I feel like this is another part where one of us faints again.” Mable says in utter disbelief at the scene that unfolded in front of her. “Ohoh!” Soos laughed out. “I’m so on it, dudes.” As if on command his eyes roll to the back of his head and he faints flat on his back.

HEADCANON TIME!!

• You weren’t really expecting to talk to him much due to Stan wanting to talk to his brother, but after their fight, he came looking for you. When he found you, you were sitting on the couch that was outside on the porch. You were reading a book you recently purchased from the bookstore. Nose deep in your book, you failed to realize Ford standing beside you. His hands were shoved in the pockets of his trench coat. Quietly he asked, “Is there room for one more?”

• The night was spent with the two of you getting to know each other. From your favorite color to your favorite show, what food you like to eat and so on. Ford wanted to fully understand and know you as a person. He wanted to make up all the years he lost with you.

• The next day, you awoke to the smell of your favorite breakfast food being cooked. With haste you pushed your blanket off of you and slipped on your slippers and sped off into the kitchen where Ford was buttering the pan. He looked over to you and flashed you a smile. “I made you your favorite.” He said, motioning over to the table where he laid out your breakfast. “You didn’t have to do this.” You scratched your cheek, a small laugh of surprise leaving you. “I’m just doing what I always dreamed of doing.” He shoveled out his breakfast onto his plate using a spatula. “How’s the food, kiddo?” He asks, placing the pan and spatula on the dirty side of the sink. “Actually pretty good for someone who hasn't been in this dimension for over a decade!” You jest, taking another delicious bite from your breakfast. Ford jokingly rolled his eyes, ruffling your hair as he walked past you and sat down on his chair. “Already poking fun at me.” He said, shaking his head.

• Stanford knew he had to focus on his projects, he had so many things he left unfinished that he'd been dying to get his hands on the minute he stepped foot into his dimension. But he couldn’t seem to pull himself away from you. He loved seeing you interact with the twins, he loved watching how pieces of his personality shone through you. Like the way you’re so meticulous with where you put things, or how you were forever curious about the things around you, and even the abundance of questions you’d mutter to yourself as you discovered something new. That’s all of him right there, in front of him and he couldn’t grasp such a thought that you were his!

• He finds himself gazing upon baby photos Stan took of you when you were younger. Even if he’s angry at his twin currently, he’s forever grateful that he documented such beautiful memories in a scrapbook. “Y’know, I used to tell stories about you to her.” A shriek leaves Ford. He jumps forward, the scrapbook tumbling down his lap and onto the floor. “You idiot! Be careful.” Stan sneered, kneeling down to the floor to pick up the scrapbook. “Stanley!” Ford leans his head back, trying to regain his composure. “You scared me!” He says. “Yeah, yeah. I know.” Stan waves him off, grabbing the scrapbook and tucking it in between his arms. They stand in awkward silence, eyes darting around the place uneasily. “Did…” Ford starts, shattering the silence. “Did she like the stories you told of me?” Stan smiles fondly, nodding his head. “She loved them. She thought you were some stupid amazing superhero, no matter what I told her.” Ford furrowed his brows. “Wait, what do you mean by no matter what you told her?” Stan nervously laughed. “Hey, why don’t you keep looking at these photos! Wait here, look at this one. Haha! She’s trying to eat her toes, isn’t that adorable?” “Stanley.”

• Outings between the two of you were very common. He loved being tugged around the town of Gravity Falls by you as you pointed at various different shops and locations. You told him the reasons why you hated them or loved them, and some were tied to stories that happened within the summer. He seriously questioned how you and the twins survived so many times where you were just so close to death. The mall was a place where you and him resided the most. With the money he took from Stan, he paid for almost everything you wanted. Entering the shack with so many bags was a shock to everyone. “Woah! Did you buy the whole mall?” Mable jokes, grabbing one of the bags to help you with the load. “Basically,” you laughed, instructing Mable to rally Soos and Dipper to have a little haul of what you bought. Stan watched with a raised brow as you stumbled into the living room with Mable following closely behind. “Where did you get all the money to buy her all of that?” Stan asks. “Just stole some money from some hobo.” Ford said, walking into the living room to join in on the haul. Stan didn’t understand what he said and opened the cash register. When he saw all the money he had stored the day before gone, it all clicked.

• Adventures out in the woods is a must. Gathering the twins and your dad, all four of you venture out into the woods in hopes to find something new. “Why couldn’t Grunkle Stan tag along with us?” Mable asked as she kneeled down to pluck a flower from the dirt. “Because he’s being a wet towel.” Dipper muttered, scribbling down a rough drawing of the flower Mable was picking in a book you bought him. “So what kind of anomalies you three stumbled upon?” Ford questioned. You and the twins began to dump everything onto him, from when you started seeing them to when Dipper and Mable came. Ford couldn’t truly focus on what they were saying, mostly because it was a jumbled excited mess of words, but partially because he was astonished with the trio in front of him. They went through so much and yet they’re still so headstrong. He could definitely see a little bit of him in Dipper and Mable.

• Stan would find you and Ford fallen asleep on the couch or in his lab, all huddled up together and completely knocked out. Snores filled the room and he found it amusing that you and him both snores the same. Videos and photos were definitely taken by Mable.

• Ford would tell stories of his adventures in another dimension to you. Stemming from how he started from the ground up to him getting banned from many other dimensions for stealing parts. “You’re not so different from Uncle Stan,” You laughed, shaking your head. “What! It was only a few…hundred dimensions.”

• There’s times where you’d wake up in a cold sweat, afraid that your Dad finally coming back was just a painful dream your brain played on you. But when you would get ready to find him, you’d step on his stomach or back. “Ough!” Ford groaned out in pain. Being suddenly woken up from his sleep, he sat up, looking around confused. “What are you doing sleeping on the floor?” You sat back down on your bed, pulling the blankets over you. “Is there a problem with me sleeping on the floor?” Ford asks, looking at you with squinted eyes. “No, no.” You laid back down on your bed. “Go back to sleep. I’m better now,” You say, somewhat amused with Ford sleeping on the floor beside your bed. “Goodnight, I love you.” You brush your fingers playfully across his face to annoy him. He shoves your fingers away from his face, huffing out. “Goodnight,” He shuffles to his side, looking up to you with a small smile. “I love you more, kiddo.”

[tadc-harlequin-au]

New Puppet Unlocked: Caine, The Puppetmaster!

Caine's character description:

For the longest time, Caine believed that he was the only Puppet left who hasn't gone insane, and has spent living in near complete and total isolation for it (if it weren't for Bubble, his robotic Butler Blimp), drowning himself in booze. That was, until Pomni suddenly arrived at his office out of nowhere and challenged him.

Her sudden appearance, her fierceness in battle and various other reasons, Caine sought to get Pomni to see the dire situation after a stalemate in their duel; That they're the last remnants of sane minds remaining in this forsaken lands and he needs her help for what must be done next, if they are to improve the world's conditions. Thankfully, the Harlequin was not actually cold-hearted, just hot-tempered.

Reinvigorated in his self-assigned purpose, The Puppetmaster now spends his time either indoctrinating reawakened Puppets and teaching them how to become "human" once more, tinkering/inventing new machines, having friendly debates or sparring with Pomni just to satisfy her urge to battle, and various other things.

Though, he still likes to drink.

Fun facts about Caine:

He is a massive drunkard.

He passes out in the most random places if he drinks too much. One of the most outrageous locations Pomni has found him in was at the chandelier on the main lounge, which even he can't remember how he got there.

Caine still acts boisterous and speaks mostly formally; though there are ways you can break his way of speech, the easiest way to do it is to surprise him.

He avoids using swears, says it's a gentleman's code. Though, some get past his mouth on a rare occasion.

He created Bubble out of loneliness, initially just wanting someone to talk to.

In a comedic parallel, he tends to limit Pomni's cravings for battle by holding her sword hostage as much as possible, of course to the Harlequin's frustration.

His second gold tooth on his bottom jaw was a result of his and Pomni's first meeting/duel. She ended up kicking him so hard in her rage, one teeth cracked in half and flew off.

He tends to look at everyone with a positive mindset and the want to see the best in them; although Jax seems to be a rare exception. Still, he lets the automaton be.

Most of his time is spent hanging around in his office. The only time you'll see him outside is if there's a task he needs to attend to, assembling Pomni back together in the cellar, another sparring match with the Harlequin, or when he talks to Z and/or Kingr, since they are both too big for the insides of the mansion.

Like almost every ADHD-person, he is prone to getting distracted easily.

He has a strict "no fighting in the premises" rule; instead, he tells them to literally take it outside (even if it means being on the neighboring lawn), as long as it's not on the INSIDE.

He keeps his shirt opened because he feels discomfort and suffocated when he buttons it up.

He doesn't like to talk about his past.

When asked what's his classification, he'll avoid and switch topics. His rare anger (but eerily-calm way of speech) comes out when you ask about it too much.

He does admit that his entire body was self-modified.

You can hear his arrival in a scene by the sounds of ball joints slightly cracking in place.

Aside from Pomni, he likes Kingr the most, finding the chess piece's presence calming. This has lead to jokes about a bromance happening between the two.

And just like Pomni as well, Caine fixes Kingr the most because the Helpful King tends to use himself as a shield for the Harlequin.

He's rarely seen without his cane.

He HEAVILY dislikes it when Pomni dies. When he is aware that Pomni is at the brink of death, he'll start panicking and telling her to go back and abandon the mission for now, through Bubble.

Quotes:

"Greetings! I am Caine, and I am here to help you. That's all you need to know."

"I think we can arrange that."

"This is not part of the plan!"

"No fighting! Take it outside."

"Perhaps we can reach to a sort of agreement..."

"Hmm... quite intriguing."

"Why, I must say, this is quite the predicament..."

"Will you be mindful of your own sake next time, pretty please?"

"... I don't-... think that's how-... you know what, do whatever you want."

"... Okay, you don't need to go that far."

"You know what this calls for? [...] A CELEBRATION! [...] BUBBLE, TO THE LIQUOR STORAGE"

"You know, I haven't really thought this through enough--"

"BUBBLE! Did you chew through my latest project again?!"

"Oy vey..."

"I am aware of the effect that alcohol has on me. And quite frankly, I don't care."

"Strange, where am I? Who am I? What are we, but mass-produced products catered to extending one's stay on a desolate, abandoned realm? Are we even human anymore, or are we machines that think we're human in order to save ourselves from the pain of a fake existence? Hm? Oh right, I haven't eaten my dinner."

"Must we really resort to this method?"

"Oh, I just fixed that!"

"Apologies, I blanked out for a second. What were we talking about?"

"Bubble here can help you out on your dilemma. Just don't listen to him for any advices. Personally, I think sometimes he can make you jump off a cliff."

"What do you mean "I need to stop drinking"? I'm perfectly fi- *passes out*"

"Am I aware that it is an unhealthy coping mechanism? Yes. Do I plan to stop? Not exactly, there aren't a lot of options left."

"That is outrageous! Me? With her? That's... It's... *sigh* I can't. She'd never."

"May I just say, for once, what the actual fuck."

[chaptersleftunwritten]

Darkest Desire

Based off of this nonnie request! It’s a bit scarier than intended and I do apologise for that teehee. There’s also no smut…

Blurb: With a group of friends you visit the local Halloween Scare walk, an event that is hosted annually out in the creepy plaines of Hawkins and whilst it’s masks on for the locals, it’s very much masks off for the scare actors…

Pairing: Scare Actor!Eddie x Reader

Warnings: 18+, the holiday of Halloween is mentioned, talk of blood/gore, faux blades/knives, cursing, reader is referred to as girl, use of pet names, degrading, praising, stalking (cat&mouse), sly/cocky and slightly mean!Eddie. Characters are all 20+

-

divider by @reveriesources

Crunchy dry blood orange leaves litter the earth and frost tainted wind nips at your nose and cheeks. The squeals of excited children racing by your costume clad frame fills your ears with immense joy and you giggle airily as they launch themselves into one another. Racing toward the brightly lit luminescent funfair games in hopes of winning a stuffed animal or a goldfish in a bag.

Their parents lug behind them, their attire consisting of some makeshift costume they had thrown together at the last minute in hopes of pleasing their tiny humans and earning themselves a quiet car ride without any tantrums or fuss.

Your group, on the other hand, weren’t here for the childish and conning games. You were all here for the Scare Walk.

You hadn’t agreed on a coherent group costume so it was a pick and mix of totally different genres and ideas and from an outside perspective it was abundantly clear that there was no communication on the matter whatsoever.

Steve was dressed as the main character from Nightmare On Elm Street, Freddy Kruger. Nancy clearly had helped with the makeup aspect of the costume assemble but everything else screamed Harrington. He cropped the stripped knitted jumper to better suit his athletic frame and his hair was still very much classic Steve.

Robin had taken a whole new approach, dressing up as the colourful Rubik’s Cube puzzle toy. Deriving inspiration from the colourful squares she wore a long black jumpsuit covered in humongous reflective and vibrant square sequins. She more resembled a neon glitter ball, but you gave her the benefit of the doubt.

Nancy’s body was hugged by a khaki green boiler suit that had the long legs cut off and on her back she wore a black backpack with some DIY altercations made to it. She has begged Mike to help her create her costume, and that’s how she ended up dressed as a Ghostbuster, putting a strong feminine spin on the male dominated film. You hadn’t expected anything less from Nance, she was always looking for ways to empower women and her costume made you smile. Proud.

Jonathan had chosen a much whackier costume to better fit with his personality. The pungent smell of weed radiating from his body only complimented the fluorescent green costume he was wearing and the radioactive orange bandana blindfolded over his eyes. He had opted for the beloved character from the children’s series Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles’, Michelangelo. Which shouldn’t have surprised you— but it did.

And finally, you had chosen something distinctively different from your friends. You had made the bold choice to go as a flapper girl from the 1920’s, inspired by Fitzgeralds novel The Great Gatsby. It was a bold move because you paired the costume with kitten heels and although they were small you knew by the end of the night your feet would be crying out for rest. It is a Scare Walk after all. Your body was adorned by glitter and lace and the fringe of your dress tickled at the exposed skin of your legs.

It was a bit chilly tonight, but you were having too much of a ball to really hone in and pay attention to the sharp gusts of wind. Steve and Robin were arguing over whose costume was more original and whilst Robin’s was, Steve always somehow managed to argue himself into being ‘right’.

“Talk to me when you have hand sewn a bazillion sequins onto something and not just took a pair of shears to a ratty old sweater.” Robin remarks with a smirk, crossing her arms over her chest and marching ahead of Steve.

“Hey! I’ll have you know that it was surprisingly difficult to cut this thing into a straight line— and it isn’t ratty or old, I literally bought it like two days ago.” Steve fires back with a squinted gaze as he follows closely behind Robin’s reflective beacon of light that seems to lead us through the dimness. Nancy grumbles inwardly to herself.

“Can you two stop bickering like babies? We’re here to have fun! So let’s go and do that!” She hooks her arm with yours, charging forward, “I heard that some people from campus are working here this year. I don’t know what they’re doing but isn’t that exciting? We might bump into them!” You admired how Nancy could make a good situation out of everything, however you didn’t quite share her enthusiasm for meeting people you already knew. Nancy was all about making and strengthening connections whereas you wanted to just have fun— judgement free.

And now that you knew that your peers were watching your every move you couldn’t help but feel your confidence shrink slightly and your words clam up. Dying in your throat before they could ever be heard aloud.

-

The walk started off relatively slow and rather boring. You kept mistaking your dress tickling your calf’s as insects running up the skin of your legs and Robin would giggle at the way your head was constantly shooting downward.

“You seem awfully jittery— is someone scared already?” She taunts, wiggling her eyebrows at you and grinning widely as she did.

You scoff in response, “Please. I’m nearly dozing off back here.”

An eerie dark silence falls over the group and the golden haze from the spooky funfair starts to fade into the background behind you as you venture further and deeper into the doom and gloom of night fall.

The smell of sweet popcorn no longer lingers in the hairs of your nostrils and a sinister chill runs down the back of your spine; like fingers tickling your bare skin.

“Are we sure we are sticking to the trail? It’s getting pretty dark out here— OH MY FUCKING GOD!!” Two little girls dressed in bloody dresses and horrifying makeup charge toward you from a nearby hidden brush. Their eyes glow a disturbing shade of white and they hold faux knives that still look devilishly real. You stumble backwards, nearly collapsing from shock however before you could fall to the ground you feel a hard body hit your back which makes you scream out in terror.

The figure laughs at you, jeering and sharp as you whip around to meet him and your hand is quick to find your chest. Your fingers claw at the fabric of your dress and you fist the fabric with a shaky grip. You’re panting, struggling for breath and the skull painted face looms over you for a moment too long; cocking his head to the side as he examines your costume.

That’s when you realise something. Something that you immediately recognised as a dark secret. A dark desire that should be kept hidden.

As his onyx orbs gleam and glare down at you, you feel a wave of heat feather your cold skin. Your core pulses between your thighs and your mouth hangs open in dreadful clarity; you were fucking turned on by this.

His chiselled face is painted to resemble a bare skull. White with inky dark circles that deepen his eye sockets and his cheekbones are defined with thick blended shadowy lines. His lips are painted black to match his contours and he has hand drawn on a stretched toothy smile and an empty nose cavity.

He doesn’t speak a single word.

He just stares at you. Almost as if he is furious with you.

And before long he drags himself away from you, like the simple task is deemed painful and impossible for him.

His torso is dressed in a fitted white button down shirt which is rolled up to his elbows and it exposes his tattooed forearms. On his legs he wears a simple but professional pair of black trousers paired with black suspenders that sling over his shoulders. On his feet he has combat boots supporting his ankles and some sort of padded device strapped around the joint of his knees.

You gawk at him as he skates across the concrete on his knees at an alarmingly fast rate toward another group of poor people; leaving sparks of light in his dust as they squirm and scream. Some of them even go as far to sprint off into the darkness away from him; which leaves the masked man cackling darkly and running after them.

“Holy shit! I had no idea he would be working here this year!” Steve slaps the palm of his hand onto your shoulder as he chuckles heavily and you pull away from him confused and slightly annoyed.

“Who is ‘he’ and how do you know him?” Steve’s laughter dies out slowly and his hands come to rest on his hips. A stance that he did often. The rest of the gang come to join you with curious expressions on their faces.

“Seriously? You don’t recognise him?” There’s a pause as you shake your head ‘no’ and Steve rolls his amber eyes dramatically, “That’s Eddie Munson, dipshit. He’s always smoking weed out in the courtyard on campus? Playing with the fire from the benson burner during chemistry— is this ringing any bells?” You shrug, crossing your arms defensively over your chest.

Is Eddie Munson someone you should know about?

“He has long, curly hair— not better than mine but hey, it’s definitely up there.” Steve’s hand smooths over his slicked back hair that is thick with gel and you laugh, now being able to form an image of Eddie in your mind.

“Ohh, the metal head? He sometimes walks around with his guitar slung over his back?” You reply as you begin to walk off after realising that you have all come to a stand still— and partially because you want to see Eddie again.

“Yeah! He is wicked with a guitar! I’ve seen him play.” Robin chirps from your left and Nancy hums on your right.

“He is pretty good.” Jonathan speaks through a mouthful of candy and you try to disguise your disgust as you unfortunately get a glimpse of the food on his tongue.

“Right…” is all you quietly reply as your eyes scan the bluish darkness. You can hear an owl hooting off in the distance and if it weren’t for the jump scares waiting for you, you would find this promenade quite peaceful.

Crickets whisper conversations from the tall blades of grass and you can see lanterns dotted up ahead of you. They cast ghoulish shadows all around the dirt path and your head twitches from side to side— trying to catch any of the silhouettes moving.

But they don’t.

You have strayed further ahead of the group, their voices hitting your ears in the form of muffled sounds but you don’t bother to wait on them. They are too busy laughing and booing at some of the scare actors whereas your heart is still palpitating at a ridiculous rate from the last scare.

Some of the actors were so gruesomely scary that you felt transported into your favourite slasher films whereas the others were just looming and ominous— more human. Humans are the scariest creatures after all. You fear your own kind in opposition to the unknown.

That’s why when the familiar skull skates over to you on his knees, you freeze this time. No fight or flight; just freeze. Your mouth gaping wide as his nose nearly brushes yours.

“Eddie.” His name is a breathless squeeze from your lungs as it leaves your mouth. You have to say his name aloud in order to ground your thundering heart. Were you excited or frightened? Maybe it was a mixture of both.

Whatever it was, the man stood in front of you wasn’t best pleased. His eyes narrow into irritated slits and his fingers toy with a piece of your hair— twirling it before yanking on it playfully.

Steve, Nancy, Robin and Jonathan all sprint past you in urgency. They screaming until their throats run raw as a deranged man with a faux chainsaw chases after them. Hot on their heels.

You and Eddie go unnoticed by them… and now…

Now you feel afraid.

“Y’know you aren’t supposed to address the actors personally, right?” He sneers through a tight jaw.

“He speaks.” You quip back sassily and Eddie huffs a distorted laugh.

“I’ve seen you around campus— even prettier up close. It’s a shame your attitude ruins that.” He circles you like a shark in water and you follow him. Twirling around makes you dizzy but Eddie’s chuckle makes your dizzier.

“Like a little lost lamb.” He coos, “Where are your cronies? Seems they’ve ditched.” His glove clad knuckle grazes your cheek and you flinch away from his soft touch. Taking a few steps back you widen the close distance between the two of you.

This causes Eddie to grin hugely; showing all of his teeth as he did.

“What? Don’t tell me you’re scared now?” He prowls toward you however you are quick to match every one of his steps. He takes a stride forward? You take a step back.

“You could run away if you wanted… but that’ll only entice me more. Didn’t they tell you? I love the chase.” His voice is a low animalistic growl and you couldn’t understand if this was Eddie or his character talking to you. Was this all an act or was he genuinely this menacing?

“I thought you actors weren’t supposed to get this close to the public…” You hunch your shoulders upward toward your ears as you cower away from his stalky frame and he stares through you; the gears in his head turning.

You shift on the balls of your feet uncomfortably and your skin blazes beneath his intense gaze.

“You’re blushing.” He says matter of factly and suddenly you feel the need to straighten your posture and try to get as far from him as possible.

“I am not.” The lie is pathetic as it meets the frosted air and Eddie smiles eerily.

“It’s the makeup, isn’t it? You like the makeup.” His head strains back on his neck as he lets out a loud laugh, “Fuck— that’s pathetic. You must be into some really weird shit.”

“I- that’s absurd!! I have no idea what you’re talking about!” You squeal and slink your arms around your torso. Partially because you were cold but also to be protective and assertive of yourself, “You don’t even know me—“ Eddie interjects, his finger tapping impatiently against his painted lips.

“Shhhh.” You feel the soft grain of his leather gloves as they tickle your skin and Eddie’s hands fully embrace your bare shoulders, “It’s okay— I like your costume too, I suppose.” He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, “I mean, it’s a bit outdated and boring but hey, you look good.” He flashes you a teasing wink that is nearly enough to make your lungs implode with lack of oxygen.

“Goodbye, Munson.” You swivel on your kitten heels and briskly find the frozen dirt path again. Your head involuntarily looks over your shoulder, trying to catch sight of Eddie one last time as you leave him behind but to your total disadvantage the metal head was no longer standing where you had left him.

He too, had taken off.

And unbeknownst to you, you had just pressed play on one of Eddie Munson’s all time favourite games; Cat and mouse.

-

It was getting later and later with every passing second and you couldn’t find your friends anywhere. You had last seen them run off whilst laughing and screaming in total horror but you hadn’t seen them since.

Had they actually ditched you and went home?

Once the thought infiltrated your psyche you contemplated on cutting the scare walk short and heading back to the funfair to search for them. However, going back meant that you had to go alone and there was something devilish about that.

To your left, through a thick canvas of sweetgum trees you can hear the owl again. Hooting softly— a sound that should calm your nerves but instead it tugs on them viciously. It’s more like an emergency siren warning you. A sign for you to run and to never look back.

A man made whistle slices through the chirping of the birds and it cuts at your skin like the edge of a blade. You look left and right, frantically dancing in circles as you try to determine where it’s coming from; but you are met with nothingness.

“Eddie, if that’s you then cut it out! This isn’t funny!” Your fingernails pinch at your skin as you begin to walk panicked in the opposite direction. Never paying attention to what’s in front of you, your gaze always trailing off to the side and behind you.

That’s when you see him— the skull peering at you from a dark line of trees in the distance. Your feet come to a staggering stop as you eye him. Was your mind playing tricks on you? Was Eddie really staring back at you or were you deluding yourself?

You swallow thickly, your mouth dry as you watch him emerge from the greenery. Before your brain can compute what your body is doing you are running; charging into the fullness of the forest.

Tree branches whip and rip at your skin, causing it to redden and sting. You wince but you continue soldiering on, your shoulders barge through sticks and nettles and thorns.

Your mind had convinced you that this was real. That you were being chased by a psycho.

“Hey— hey, stop!! It’s okay! Wait—“ Eddie is close behind you, crunching twigs beneath his boots but you are quicker than he is; more frightened and resilient to get as far from him as possible. For your own safety.

“Sweetheart! Stop!” You can hear him getting frustrated as he trudges through the cluttered landscape but you can see lights shining in front of you, just up ahead, and it causes you to force your legs to quicken. Desperate to reach there.

But just before you explode onto the funfair grounds your legs give way beneath you and you crash to the ground. The palms of your hands scrape against the jagged forest floor and your dress rips against a spiked log. You thought this shit only happened in the movies— but tonight you were proven wrong.

You look behind you and your eyes well up with tears of both pure adrenaline and fear at Eddie propelling himself toward you.

You bring up your hands around your head to protect yourself as you shrink back onto the floor, over the fact that your hair is full of pine needles and your knees are scraped and bleeding.

Eddie crouches by your side, a deep frown on his face and worry in his eyes.

“Hey, sweet girl, you’re okay…” Eddie bites off his leather gloves and throws them to the soft earth. He is gentle to pry your cold hands away from your muddied face and he hisses quietly at the temperature of your skin compared to his. He examines the palms of your hands tenderly, “Ouch… this must hurt. What were you thinking?”

Your foolishness almost causes Eddie to laugh, but after witnessing the genuine anxiety plaguing your features he decides not to.

“It was too real.” You blubber, letting out a dampened sob and Eddie’s heart pangs with guilt and sorrow, “I couldn’t find anyone and… and I saw you and I just couldn’t think of anything else…”

“I’m sorry, love. C’mere, let me help you up.” Eddie is crouched down, his knees bent as he braces himself in front of your shaking frame. He outstretches his hands toward you and you take them hesitantly.

Thanks to Eddie’s strength he pulls your weak body up to meet his with ease and he hold you against his chest. Breathing softly as he tries to calm your laboured and nervous breaths.

“I really am sorry… it’s just me, ‘Kay? I’m not gonna hurt you. I promise.” He peppers comforting pecks into your hair and your nails claw at the back of his shirt, “It must’ve been pretty scary; being out there all alone with me.”

You nod, your mind finally calming at the sound of his lulling and gentle voice.

“I do like the makeup.” Your confession is meek and muffled against his chest, “I think there must be something wrong with me.” You laugh, managing to pull away his chest and look at him much more confidently now.

“Not at all,” Eddie grins, “I think it’s quite the opposite, actually. Very normal— it might even be considered vanilla to some people out there.” Although you have removed yourself from the skull painted man’s chest, the closeness between the both of you remains the same.

The truth was; Eddie had always admired you. Your intelligence and your cunning. You were beautiful, which was the cherry on top of your infectiously bright personality. He had noticed you at the beginning of the academic year and he was too chicken to talk to you. You both were connected through Steve but Steve never really paid attention to Eddie’s longing and begging looks toward you.

But Steve didn’t have to say anything. Not anymore. Because you could see it for yourself. You could see beneath the intricate paint on his face that Eddie felt something for you. You weren’t sure what it was; lust, a crush or plain friendship but you could see it. Feel it.

“You must think I’m a total freak.”

“You have no idea who you’re talking to, sweetheart. I am the biggest freak to have ever lived.” Eddie lets out a giddy chuckle and his hands continue to rest lightly around your body. You welcome his lingering touch and his nearness. It felt familiar. Nice.

“We both look like weirdos standing out here in the dark.” Your eyes scan around the auburn horizon of tall trees and a soft smile rests on your smudged lipstick covered lips, “People are going to think we’ve been up to no good.”

Eddie smiles, his hand coming to stroke your cheek gently and tuck some of your rouge hair behind your ear, “With how windswept your hair is, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

You both stand there, the air is clouded with electrifying tension and you can’t think of anything else other than how badly you want him to kiss you.

“I wanna take you out… on a date.” His hands cup your face, “When I’m not this caricature. I’ll just be me and you will be you. You won’t have to run from me…” His cold nose brushes the tip of yours, “I won’t have to chase you.” You can smell mint and nicotine on his breath and you have never been more intoxicated by anything in your entire life.

“What’d ya say, sweet girl? Let me take you somewhere nice so I can kiss you properly at the end of the night?” There is a slight desperation to his voice and you bite your lip to suppress a wide smile.

“I’d like you to chase me, Eddie. Chase me with daisies and a boombox and your guitar. You won’t have to run after me for long…” You are dangerously close to him now, your breath quickening as you press a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. It takes every ounce of self control not to eat his entire mouth with yours, “Take me anywhere. As long as it’s with you.”

“I will.” He promises.

“And kiss me at the end of the night?” You are desperate yourself now, your eyes sparkling with moonlight as you look up into his shadowy hues.

“I will.” He strokes your hair so delicately; like you are the most precious thing he has ever handled, “I promise.”

-

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