#i have so many rhys drawing. on my computer

[june21st]

im rhacking out

[yandere-sins]

The Carnival Collaboration

My first piece (1 of 3 lol) for The Carnival Collaboration by @demonlamb666​! I couldn’t fit my idea with any fandom character so I used my lovely boy Rhys for it and definitely had a lot of fun! ♥ I always forget how fun OCs are until I write for them! He got a bit of a development here to fit his role better, so I hope you guys will still like him! Please enjoy!

Warnings: SUGGESTIVE CONTENT/LEMON, Yandere (in the later parts), Reader has a midlife crisis, PDA, Lots of touching and body contact, Wordcount: 3428

Chapter I - Distraction

Carnival—a place to fulfill all your desires!

Well, most of them at least. As you made your way through the stands left and right, you took in the sweet smell of candied nuts, churros, and cotton candy hanging in the air. The excitement of the kids screaming and running from one attraction to the next was prickling on your skin as the memories of your childhood spent at this carnival warmed your heart.

It wasn’t every day you got to go home to your parents and relive something you’ve been enjoying a lot as a child. Now an adult, you moved away, started your own life, studied, got a job. You moved on from naive pleasures, as were these events. Friends would invite you out to have fun every now and then, but it rarely was something as exciting as the carnival you still remembered from the past.

Booming voices welcomed you closer to their games, which - at your age - you knew were rigged and barely winnable. Still, you looked at the operators of the stands, smiling from ear to ear in their fun getups as they reeled in paying customers. Most of the time, it were the parents of the excited children who spent money, but you also saw couples trying their best to win prizes for each other and teenage friend groups discussing what to do next. It seemed like every kind of person was hanging out here, making you feel less awkward, alone, and seemingly out of place as you were.

Truth be told, when you heard the carnival was back in town, you laughed about it, thinking it was just a silly kid’s thing. Still, the longer the evening at your parent’s house went on, sitting on the couch and watching boring television shows together, the more you felt the urge to do something. Get out, be on your feet, explore. Really get your mind off things.

After all these years since you last visited the carnival, it was pretty impressive to see they were still doing well. A circus had joined them, as well as many other new attractions. They even had a small Ferris wheel now and bumper cars. Nothing that was drawing you in, but people were queuing up in front of the rides, and you felt happy for the carnival people to have a lot of traction.

With a heavy sigh, you reminded yourself not to think so transactionally. Your mind immediately slipped into dangerous territory as you tried to hypothetically figure out how well business was going for them. Your job was one of the reasons that you decided to come visit your family, rarely ever getting the chance to these days. You knew it was normal for children to leave home, move away, start their own families and work, but just last week, you sat in your office, looking at your work computer, when you realized you hadn’t even called home in months. These days, everything was only about numbers and profit, and you were sick and tired of it.

Life had become a drag, you couldn’t deny it. Get up, brush your teeth, drink coffee, work, come home, have dinner, sleep. All the hobbies you once had, passions and dreams, were neatly packed up in your moving boxes still. You never even opened them since you moved to the big city. Back then, you had become incredibly busy trying to build your life. You imagined that things would change once you settled, opened yourself up to new job opportunities, and organized your free time. But instead of the bright, sparkling future, you envisioned, you felt trapped between responsibilities and your job. You hadn’t met new people in years! And the old ones were slowly forgetting about you since you never had time to go out with them.

Before you knew it, you were burned out, craving things you couldn’t have and pitying yourself for it.

Even when you came home, one of the first things you heard was how proud everyone was of you for making it. For getting a good job and working hard so you could afford a - small, and a little moldy - apartment in the city. How could you break the news to them that your visit wasn’t a planned family reunion, but you, trying to flee from your depressing life for a while? That you were, in fact, not happy at all about the measly salary you had to live off on and that you’ve been eating the same kind of recipe for weeks to no end?

No, you couldn’t do it.

Admitting that what you chose to do wasn’t fulfilling or exciting you as much as you always thought it would was hard, no question. Almost as hard as sitting next to your dad on the couch, watching boring ass shows, and having him point out that the people depicted on the television weren’t as much of a big deal as they thought. Actors - or creative jobs in general - had no worth in your small-town, hands-on kind of family. They weren’t too happy when you decided to leave the town to pursue greater things, preferring if you had stayed and taken over the family’s craft store. But here you were, back in town after finding nothing but disappointment in the city, unwilling to admit that maybe they had been right.

Taking a deep breath, you held back some tears as you stood in the middle of the long pathway between the stands, leading up to the circus and around the carnival site. People were walking by, laughing, enjoying themselves. And then, there was you: a complete downer. You came out here to have fun and get your mind off things, not to be more miserable than you were in the city or at your parents’ place!

Surprisingly, the only sound that could break through to you in the cacophony of voices and jingles was a whistle. Not the shouting of the stand owners around you. Not the squeals of delight and screams of the children who had too much sugar. No, it was a simple whistle calling for your attention, short and directed at you, that made you lift your chin, looking around you.

“Hey there, Cutie,” someone called out to you, and your eyes locked on the face behind the voice, your body twisting into the direction. A young man who couldn’t be older than you waved at you, his lips turning into a grin as your eyes finally met. Brown curls framed a pretty face, a red, round clown’s nose glued to his real one. He was standing behind the counter of one of those throw-a-ball-at-cans stalls, inviting you closer. You had already passed by it while in thought, but now you noticed the stand was barely visited by other people. That, and the random person calling out from it, intrigued you. Not least because his gentle, yellow eyes were beckoning you closer as if he was just as captivated by you.

Looking side to side before turning, partly checking no one was planning on going to the stand, or you’d run into anyone, you stepped closer, curious. Watching you approach with a sense of satisfaction, the man ducked down briefly, pulling up three heavy balls used for the game and placing them on the counter before you. He presented them to you with an inviting gesture, still smiling from ear to ear now that he had your attention.

“It’s bad manners to whistle at people,” you reminded him, glancing behind him at the rows of cans neatly stacked. No doubt the bottommost ones were drilled into the board underneath them to make it impossible to win big prizes from this stall, even though they tried to hide the scam. Not that you wanted to win anything. You didn’t even want to play. But you also didn’t know what exactly the man wanted from you, other than play his game.

“Ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend, but…” Taking a seat on the counter next to you, the operator leaned towards you, and the smell of cologne wafted from him, earthy and warm. Like wood and spices. You couldn’t help taking a deep breath, the scent enveloping you gently, drawing you towards him, as the guy continued. “You looked a bit upset standing there. I thought you could need some distraction.”

Giving him a half-hearted smile, you looked between him, the balls, and the cans as he invited you with a broad gesture of his hand to throw one. He didn’t even ask you to pay up, but perhaps this was just a way to draw in more customers if they saw you play or kill the boredom of not having any customers otherwise.

“And you think hitting tin cans will help make aaaaaaall my worries go away?” you questioned sarcastically.

The man’s lips parted, showing his teeth as he grinned, hearing your reply, seemingly amused by your feistiness. Picking up one of the balls, he threw it in the air a couple of times, catching it in the same hand before holding it out to you. “Did for me. My tin cans solved all my problems. They might do the same for you?”

Even though this was definitely a strange situation, you took the ball he gave you. By all means, you appreciated the distraction, even if it was some stranger and you, playfully bickering and throwing balls at tin cans. Aiming at the center of the cans, you focused your throw, hoping to perform well despite it being just a kids’ game. It was good to know you hadn’t lost your bite yet when it came to challenges. You sure loved the tin toss when you were a kid, always wanting to win the biggest stuffed animal possible. But now, believing in the reality of never being able to win since it was rigged, it was kind of silly how easily excitable you still were.

There was just something about this stand that really got to you.

Just as you expected, you were able to knock off the top one and one can in the second row. But while the pyramid tumbled a little, nothing more happened. It was silly. Silly enough to get a little upset about it. Looking back at the guy, you noticed his eyes never moved from you, even when you were focused on the game, the corners of his lips curling higher as you looked back at him, now a little flustered that he was watching your fail so intently.

“I actually feel worse now,” you admitted, trying to laugh off the embarrassment.

“Oh, don’t,” he purred somewhat comfortingly. It felt like he was absolving you of your embarrassment, reminding you it was not that big of a deal. All of a sudden, the man lifted his legs over the counter, letting them hang down next to you before jumping to the ground. Standing on your level now, you noticed how tall he was, looking down at you with a mix of gentleness and… something you couldn’t determine yet. He was much more handsome than you had noticed at first glance, strong arms with defined muscles, giving his body a tender but muscular look. Wearing only a vest instead of a proper shirt, you could see the outlines on his chest before he suddenly disappeared behind you. Those big, strong arms wrapped around you just a second later, and you tensed in surprise, unsure what to make of the situation.

“See, there’s a trick to it, Sweetheart.”

Before you knew what he was doing, he pressed another ball back into your hand, guiding that hand upwards with his own. His chest pressed up to your back, your hips snuggly sitting against his. With the other hand, he pinned your free hand to the counter, urging you to lean forward a little as he lifted your throwing arm into the air and in position.

Not only were you completely enveloped by his body, but the scent of his cologne was also stronger now, tickling your senses again. It was hard to breathe in anything but this man, alongside the warmth of his body against yours, making you melt. His touch was gentle but no less assertive than the rest of his body, sending goosebumps over your skin, all while you felt his muscles move with your body as he directed your throw. This was more contact than you had with anyone in a long time, the years of not dating since college now showing you exactly how needy you were for this. You felt incredibly greedy for wanting more from this stranger, but he probably wasn’t aware of how strongly you missed being so close to someone. It was weird that you were so willing to get riled up by this stranger, but at the same time, it was exactly the distraction you had wanted. What was life without a bit of fun, right? Nonetheless because his scent was slowly turning you on with just how tempting it was.

When he said, “Now!” your body didn’t question his instruction, reacting instinctively to him, letting go of the ball in your hand, and… hitting all of the cans. The crashing sound of the tin cans falling to the ground while you stared in disbelief was only drowned out by the chuckle in your ear as the operator closed the distance to praise you, “Now that was an excellent throw, Darling.”

You instantly felt weak in the knees, hoping he couldn’t feel your body relying on him for support. Thankfully, your ears were covered by hair as you felt them grow hot after he whispered the sweet praise for the throw into them, rendering you flustered. It made you feel like a teenager again, flirting with the cute upperclassman. “Feeling better already?” His voice - a honeyed mumble - was still coming from right beside your ear. But you could hear the grin on his face all while you felt his body grind against yours from behind as he waited for your reply.

Taking a barely hideable deep breath, you hoped you wouldn’t stutter as you turned your head in his direction, glancing at him from over your shoulder. It had become quite obvious that he was enjoying this, so it was only fair if you teased him right back. He watched you squirm in his hold, feeling it as you pressed your buttcheeks against his crotch challengingly, first surprised that you’d play along, then grinning knowingly.

“That went really fast. I think I need another demonstration?” you purred innocently, all while brushing up against him with obvious intention.

“Of course, Sugar,” he agreed, wasting no time pressing you against the stall’s counter, making sure there was not an inch of space between your bodies. While you took a sharp breath, he ran his fingertips along your arm and down to your hands, both of his hands gripping yours from above suddenly, lacing your fingers. “Pay attention now,” he ordered assertively, teasing you with his voice ringing through your skull.

“Lift.” He stretched your arm high in the air, bringing it up and behind his own head, your shoulder close enough to his lips that you thought he was going to kiss it. Instead, you felt the vibration of his voice against your skin, making you tense as budding arousal made itself known between your legs. For a moment, he remained in this position, feeling your bodies breathe against each other, you so perfectly pinned between him and the counter.

“Focus on where you want to throw.” How? you wondered, his voice being the only thing that was captivating you right now, stealing all the focus as you wished he’d murmur it more into your ear. All you wanted was to lean in further to him, a complete stranger, and feel more of his body all over yours. This was less of a demonstration of how to throw balls than it was a demonstration of how good his body fit against yours.

“And throw!” Saying that, he directed you to lower yourself into your knees, ground his hips against yours, and jolted your bodies upwards until you were standing on your tiptoes, leaning over the counter. The bulge in his pants fit right in between your ass cheeks, letting you feel the delicious length you were dealing with as you let go of the ball at his command.

Unsurprisingly for you - even after the thorough instructions - you didn’t hit the cans as planned, the ball bouncing off the back of the stall, while the man let out a teasing, “Oh… That’s too bad,” clearly still smiling as he said that. Placing his hands on your hips for a moment, he pulled you back against him while your breath hitched. You felt like you were on a rollercoaster of emotions, pressing your legs together tightly to somewhat get a hold on yourself. “I’d have loved to reward you for that throw, Buttercup.”

Letting go of you, you whipped around, holding on to the counter behind you as the guy laughed, putting his hands in the air innocently as he walked to the side of the stall, letting himself in through the door again. “But alas,” he sighed, leaning down to collect the balls you threw and putting them away.

“All I have for you is this rose.” Pulling forth one of the cheapest prizes, a plastic flower, he slipped it behind your ear, leaning on the counter, supported by his arms. “But I’m sure I at least got your mind off things, right?”

With your heart still racing, you tried to keep the eye contact, the brilliant, citrine glow of his not being subtle about how much he enjoyed this too, as it drilled into you. You could tell he was a terrible tease, but you had to admit he wasn’t wrong. At least for a little bit, he made you forget about your worries, even if you found it hard to admit. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Tin Toss Boy?” you challenged him, keeping your chin high and proud, his smile growing wider with excitement.

“It’s Rhys. But if my little demonstration wasn’t enough to help you with your worries, feel free to drop by again tomorrow. I’ll be here aaaall weekend, happy to help.”

Winking at you, you couldn’t help but laugh for the first time since the exchange started. When you told your parents you’d be going to the carnival, this wasn’t what they thought you were doing. In fact, it wasn’t what you thought you’d do that day either. Chuckling, you took the rose from behind your ear, twirling the plastic stem between your fingers.

“Maybe I will, Rhys,” you made an open promise to him, turning to walk away as you heard him take a sharp breath before letting out a small, pleasurable grumble. You could feel his eyes on you, scanning you from head to toe, and it made you feel even hotter, hearing and feeling that he liked what he saw.

Looking back over your shoulder, your eyes met as you heard him say, “God, I hope.”

When you returned home, your parents had already gone to sleep, the house quiet and dark. You were still holding the rose in your hands, twirling it before your nose again, still faintly smelling his cologne on it. A draft of the scent and your body instantly remembered how his chest felt against your back, the vibrations of his voice in your ear teasing long-forgotten desires inside of you, and most of all, the hard resistance in his pants as you pressed against his crotch.

No matter how strange and intrusive this stranger had been, you couldn’t help that he set off a lot of neediness inside you, making you ache for him between your legs and even deep inside your core. You had never clicked with someone like Rhys before. Someone confident, eager, and dominant with what he wanted. It flattered you beyond imagination that he wanted you of all people; certainly, he’d have enough options with his dashing looks. But you remembered the hunger festering in his eyes as he looked after you, the thought better than sex itself. Maybe he was bored, perhaps just a little weird, but you’d be damned if you didn’t return for another taste of adventure you had with him the next day.

However, that night, you could only dream about what he’d demonstrate to you next.

[introvertguide]

Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (2001); AFI #50

The current movie for review from the AFI top 100 is the most recent of the films, Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring (2001). This was the introduction of director Peter Jackson to much of the mainstream American audience despite him having a 20 year history of film making in New Zealand. The film is beautiful in so many aspects, from the special effects to the cinematography to the sets creating the world of Middle Earth. The film received 12 nominations at the Academy Awards and received 4 of them, a feat unheard of for an epic fantasy film. This is also the only “incomplete” film on the AFI list because there are no other “too be continued” stories. There are some films that are first and second parts (specifically The Godfather 1 and 2), but this is the only one that intentionally stopped with intent for the story to pick in the next film. With that being said, the sheer number of characters and the intended incomplete nature of the film makes it almost impossible to summarize without just going scene by scene. There are 100 movies on this list and I am not going to set any precedence that I will be doing that, so here is a very brief synopsis of what happens in this film without diving into too much of the lore concerning the rest of the trilogy or The Hobbit:

SPOILER WARNING!! I DON’T KNOW WHY IT IS NECESSARY ON THIS ONE, BUT I DO IT EVERY TIME AND I WANT TO BE CONSISTANT!! IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN THIS BY NOW OR ARE UNFAMILIAR WITH THE STORY, THEN YOU ARE LIKELY VERY YOUNG, LIVE UNDER A ROCK, OR PURPOSEFULLY AVOIDING IT!!! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED SO I DON’T WANT TO GET ANY NOTES ON THIS ONE!!!

So here is the general outline, there was an evil guy named Sauron that gave out rings of power to the Elves, Dwarves, and Humans in a realm called Middle Earth. This land is a fantasy realm that has a mix of Dark Age castles mixed with monsters and human like races. It looks strangely like New Zealand through a lot of the country side. Coincidence I am sure. Anyway, Sauron tricked the different races because he kept for himself one ring to rule them all and bind the ones wearing the rings to him. This did not go over well so the humans, elves, and dwarves rose up and fought Sauron and his armies and were able to get the master ring during battle. There was a chance for them to destroy the ring but human corruption prevented this and the ring was eventually lost. It eventually ended up in the hands of a man that kept it close and allowed it to suck away his life until it was stolen by a small human-like creature named Bilbo Baggins. The ring was taken on many adventures (see The Hobbit films for this story) and it gave this little hobbit prolonged life, but it also became an addictive burden. Bilbo decided to go off and leave the ring for his nephew and this is where the story begins. I know, it’s a lot.

A wizard named Gandalf (Ian McKellen) comes to the hobbit village as Bilbo is leaving and makes sure the ring is left in the hands of the nephew Frodo (Elijah Wood). The wizard confirms the ring is the one that rules them all and reveals that Sauron is regaining power and wants the ring. For the safety of the shire, Frodo must take the ring to Rivendell, home of the Elves, to figure out what must be done. Gandalf has to take care of some business so some other hobbits - Sam (Sean Astin), Merry (Dominic Monaghan), and Pippin (Billy Boyd)  - get wrangled into the journey and the group of four go off to a local human town to meet Gandalf and continue forward. This short trip proves treacherous as the 9 humans that were given rings of power had been corrupted and turned into Nazgul that are attempting to track down the little group of hobbits. Gandalf does not show up, but the group run into a ranger named Strider at the human tavern and he helps fight off the ring wraiths. With the help of his elf girlfriend, Arwen, the group are able to make it to Rivendell where they are presumably safe for the time being.

A meeting is held at Rivendell and representatives of the different races all show up to decide what must be done. The ring must be destroyed so a fellowship to transfer the ring to Mount Doom is formed. It is made up of the four hobbits, Gandalf the wizard, an elf named Legolas (Orlando Bloom), Strider the Ranger who is actually a human king named Aragorn (Viggo Mortenson), a dwarf named Gimli (John Rhys-Davies), and another human named Boromir (Sean Bean). I have seen enough movies with Sean Bean as a side character to know that he is for sure going to die. It is only a matter of when.

So the group heads off toward Mount Doom and initially start by taking a path through snowy mountains but have to turn back and instead decide to go under the mountains. The dwarf is excited because he can visit his cousin who is king under the mountain. Alas, all they find is skeletons and an evil race created by Sauron called orcs. This race also seems to have other evil creatures enslaved including a cave troll. The Fellowship is chased through the bowels of the mountain until the orcs suddenly back off and the group finds something even worse, an ancient evil called a Balrog. Gandalf takes on the creature at a stone bridge and screams the now memed words “You shall not pass!” The Balrog falls into a pit but drags Gandalf down as well, reducing the number in the group by one wizard.

The group mourns the loss very briefly (and dramatically) before traveling to an elven forest where Frodo is told by a queen that he will have to take on the quest alone and that one of the fellowship will betray him. They continue on and it turns out that a wizard named Saruman that was corrupted by Sauron (confusingly close in name, I know), has created super buff orcs called Uruk-hai (pronounced “Orick Eye” all blended together) to hunt down the party. Boromir tries to take the ring from Frodo but immediately makes up for it by sacrificing himself to protect the hobbits from the super orcs. Sean Bean was kind of a bad guy and was killed. What a surprise. That actor really needs to find different roles or he is going to spend his entire career being type cast. 

Anyway, Frodo and Sam break away from the group to go off on their own, the other two hobbits are captured and taken by the orcs, and then Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli decide to track everybody down. To be continued.

This probably seems like quite a short synopsis for a 3 hour movie...but legitimately the movie is a visual spectacle in which not a lot happens. Most of the movie is traveling, fighting, introducing the lore of the world, and introducing characters. Not a whole lot of plot progression in this particular movie, but it sets the stage for the second film to be nothing but battle and progression (an hour long battle of Helm’s Deep which is amazing), while the last one is nothing but battles and resolution of every story line. It is an incredible trilogy and this is only the beginning and it had audiences drooling for more.

In fact, Peter Jackson films set the standard for special effects for the early 21st century. His team took home the Oscar for best visual effects in 2001 for Fellowship of the Ring, in 2002 for The Two Towers, in 2003 for The Return of the King, and in 2005 for King Kong. No film series with consecutive releases has done this except Lord of the Rings (not even with Star Wars, Marvel, and DC universe films coming out constantly).  The series really is something special. Attempts had been made to tell the trilogy as an animated movie, but no drawings could do the world justice. It took advanced computer graphics, motion capture technology, an expansive New Zealand countryside, a quirky director that had envisioned this world his whole life, and a dedicated cast and crew that was fully committed to the project. It is an amazing piece of filming.

If I have any complaints, it is that there is some really corny drama. The amount of times that Elijah Wood overacts in pain or despair is more digits than I have. Especially when the group is mourning the loss of Gandalf...it is kind of embarrassing. It is that “inconsolable parent who lost a child” acting with scream crying and shouts of “Noooooo!” It is all the hobbits, too, which doesn’t help that they are the size of children and are having a despair tantrum. Luckily they keep going and that is a one minute scene, but still it is embarrassing. Also, Frodo is stabbed and presumed dead twice. I can see why there were no nominations for best actor because it was not the best acting.

It is all made up for by the incredible battles. For me, it is the chase under the mountain with the orcs and the cave troll and the balrog. That is about 30 minutes of constant fight or flight that left me short of breath. I realized I kept forgetting to breath I was so mesmerized by the constant intensity. There is also a good amount of comedy since the hobbits are generally peaceful farmers and they don’t know how to (or want to) have adventures and keep messing things up. Pippin and Merry keep touching things that they shouldn’t and it brings all kinds of trouble. I think it is one of them that knocks some armor into a well that catches the attention of the orcs under the mountain.

Two specific scenes that I found memorable in that they are burned into my brain forever were the Nazgul fight and the appearance of the cave troll. The Nazgul are absolutely terrifying in that they have no face and have only one intent: kill whatever they are hunting. A good comparison would be to Dementors in the Harry Potter universe. The Nazgul are like Dementors with swords and armor. What is worse, Frodo can use the one ring to make him invisible, but it puts a target on him for the Nazgul and they come straight for him. They idea that you can’t hide from this evil and attempting to will make you stand out more is kind of horrific. I found the Nazgul truly disturbing. The cave troll is just awesome and huge. At no point was I worried for the team on this occasion because the wizard, elf, dwarf, and humans seemed undefeatable. It was more of curiosity about how they were going to handle this challenge. The detail of filming all the actors and sets so they were affected by the troll made the huge beast and the threat it posed in an enclosed space seamless. 

There was some question why this movie was on the AFI list and the other movies in the trilogy were not, especially with the third film winning 10 Oscars including best picture. It is because this was the watershed film that made the others possible. I got to see the film in the theatre and it was an experience like no other. I cannot think of a movie that had created such a complete fantasy world like LOTR and it made for a truly cinematic experience. I generally do not like movie theatres because people around me whom I have no control over can affect my experience and I am not normally willing to pay for that. However, the theatre I was in had tiered level seating that was graded enough so that nobody blocked my view and ample leg room that also prevented kicking from behind. It was a thing of beauty and I went and saw the other two films in the theatre as well. It was amazing.

So does this film deserve to be on the AFI 100? My goodness, I would think less of the AFI if it wasn’t. It changed audience expectations of what a movie could be and set the tone for the new millennium as far a big budget cinema. Would I recommend it? Please, I own it. If you come by my place and you haven’t seen it, then I will be happy to put aside 3 hours and watch it again with you. It is the easiest epic film to get through, in my opinion, and I don’t think you will be sorry to give up the time. Just a fantastic movie.

[snappedsky]

Borderlands: Skies the Bodyguard 3

Skies and the crew get to Opportunity and run into someone interesting.

*Links to previous and next chapters in reblog*

--

Chapter 9

           Two technicals speed through the Dust, beneath the night sky. Piled into one are Maya, Axton, Salvador, Zer0, Gaige, and Krieg. In the other is Lilith, Mordecai, and Brick with the Crimson Raiders trained skag, Dukino, hanging out the window, his maw open in delight.

           They soon arrive on something suspicious: a mound of destroyed machinery, still smoldering in the sand. It’s barely recognizable as a vehicle. They pull over and Dukino sniffs the destruction, whining as he looks around in confusion.

           “She destroyed their vehicle,” Lilith declares, “she’s trying to keep us off the trail.”

           “So what now?” Gaige asks.

           They watch Dukino’s odd behaviour for a second. He keeps looking from one direction to the other, like he can’t decide which way to go.

           “Looks like she could’ve gone towards the northeast or southwest,” Axton observes, “guess we just gotta pick a direction.”

           “Ellie’s place is over that way,” Maya points out, “maybe she saw something.”

           Everyone agrees and gets back into their vehicles. They arrive at Ellie’s in a few minutes and walk into the junkyard. The large woman greets them right away.

           “Hey, guys,” she chimes, “how’s it goin’?”

           “Could be better,” Lilith replies, “Ellie, have you seen anyone suspicious lately?”

           Ellie gives her a blank look. “Yer gunna have to be more specific.”

           “We just found out Skies the Bodyguard is still alive,” Mordecai clarifies, “we’re trying to find her.”

           “Ah, so the skag’s outta the bag, huh,” Ellie sighs, “yah, I knew already.”

           “What do you mean, you know?” Maya questions, everyone looking at her incredulously.

           “A while ago I found someone passed out in tha desert,” Ellie explains, “I brought ‘em back to the garage and didn’t realize she was Skies until she told me. I was ready to kill her but…”

           “But what?” Maya asks, “did she attack you?”

           “Nah, the exact opposite. She didn’t try to fight back or resist. She just sat there and…waited. And-I dunno. I couldn’t do it. She just looked…broken.”

           “Tina said that exact same thing,” Brick muses.

           “Well, she ain’t broken now,” Axton points out, “and she kidnapped Claptrap.”

           “And that’s…bad?” Ellie questions.

           “It’s the principle of the matter,” Lilith says, “Ellie, did she come back recently?”

           “Yah, not long ago her new friends came lookin’ for a car,” she replies.

           “And you just gave it to ‘em?” Salvador asks incredulously.

           “They needed help. And I trusted her friends, not her,” Ellie clarifies.

           “Did they say anything about where they were going?” Lilith asks.

           “‘fraid not. Just that they were going to Sanctuary for help.”            Everyone sighs with defeat.

           “Okay, well, there was still that other direction her scent went,” Gaige points out.

           “Yeah, let’s go,” Axton nods and they start to head out.

           “Lil,” Ellie calls after them, grabbing Lilith’s attention. “If I was wrong about letting Skies go, I promise I’ll make her pay myself.”

           Lilith hesitates with what to say for a second. “Don’t-don’t worry about it, Ellie. I don’t blame you. I know you would’ve killed her if you thought it was right.”

           Ellie nods and Lilith leaves with the others.

           They return back to the destroyed vehicle and continue on towards the southwest. Soon, Skies destination makes sense as they arrive at the train station.

           “Lynchwood,” Lilith grunts, “of course.”

           “Ay, the trains have power,” Salvador observes as everyone gets out of the vehicles.

           “How did that happen?” Axton asks, “last time we were here, the whole town was dead.”

           “She must’ve restored power somehow,” Maya muses.

           “Least now we don’t have to walk,” Mordecai grunts as they climb aboard the train.

           “Let’s hurry,” Lilith orders and they ride the train to Lynchwood.

           Meanwhile, Skies and the others have just fast traveled to Opportunity. They appear one by one in a bedroom, which at one point was probably lavish and opulent, but has since been destroyed and looted.

           “Nice place,” August comments drily.

           “Too bad we missed the party,” Sasha adds.

           Skies leaves silently and approaches the window in the destroyed den. From here, she can see the destruction that was wrought upon Opportunity after Jack’s death. The buildings are all intact but many of the windows are smashed and even from this distance, evidence of past gunfights is clear. It looks nothing like the golden beacon Jack dreamed of.

           Skies stares out solemnly until she senses Vaughn approach.

           “You okay?” he asks.

           “Yeah,” she replies and turns away. “Come on. We gotta go into the city. I don’t know what’s in there, so be ready for anything.”

           Everyone draws their weapons and start to leave when Claptrap cuts them off.

           “Wait!” he says dramatically, “I would like to say something.”

           “What, you need permission?” August scoffs.

           “Skies saved me from a skag attack earlier today,” Claptrap announces, “this has forced me to rethink my opinion on her. Therefore I have decided, she is no longer my enemy and as thanks for saving me, I will protect her with my life!”

           “Oh um,” Skies stammers, flabbergasted, “that’s…okay. Thanks…?”            “Now, let us continue with our quest!” he declares before rolling away.

           “Hey, nice,” Vaughn smiles, nudging Skies as they follow. “One of the Crimson Raiders has accepted you.”

           “Yeah,” she sighs, “guess I gotta start somewhere.”            They leave the tower and cross the bridge to the city proper. It’s eerily quiet; not even the growling of skags can be heard in the distance.

           “Oooh I hate this kind of silence,” Skies groans as she covers her ears, like that’s gonna help. “Reminds me of the time I spent alone. Maddening. Suffocating. Somebody say something to drown it out.”

           “You seem to be doing an okay job,” August comments.

           “I can’t believe how empty it is,” Sasha remarks, “I thought this place would be crawling with bandits.”            “Yeah, it is odd,” Vaughn agrees.

           “The controls for the bridge on the other side were destroyed,” Skies explains, “it wasn’t mindless destruction either. It was clean, like they knew what they were doing.”

           “Maybe the Crimson Raiders want to keep people out,” Vaughn suggests.

           “Maybe,” she agrees, slightly unconvinced.

           Skies leads the group to Opportunity Square, to a building that used to be locked with a keypad. The door has long since been destroyed, allowing the group free access. Inside used to be a surveillance room but that too is ruined.

           “This isn’t gonna work at all,” Sasha says angrily, gesturing to the broken monitors.

           “Relax,” Skies grunts and goes up to an empty wall, placing her hand against it. A large scanner appears that scans her whole body before a secret door opens up.

           “Whoa, cool,” August comments.

           “This lab can only be accessed by mine or Jack’s bio-signatures,” Skies explains as they go down a set of dimly lit stairs. “That’s why I know it’s safe. No one can get in here.”

           They enter a simple room with a large computer against the right wall, a couple of cabinets and shelves, a table, and a fast travel station across from them. But none of this is what stops them in their tracks. What does are the clothes sprawled out around the floor and the pile of fresh fruit on the table.

           “It…looks like somebody’s been living here,” Vaughn muses.

           “That’s impossible,” Skies argues, “no one should be able to get in here but me.”

           “This drake fruit is fresh,” August points out, “this hasn’t been here since Jack died.”

           “But…” Skies trails off, rubbing her head in perplexity.

           “Whatever, no one’s here now,” Sasha says impatiently, “let’s just find Fiona and Rhys already. Claptrap, can you hack the computer?”            “No problem,” he chimes and rolls over to the monitor. Sasha, Gortys, and Loader Bot follow him while August, Vaughn, and Skies mill about the room.

           “Vaughn, seriously?” August groans as Vaughn bites a piece of fruit.

           “What, I’m hungry,” he shrugs.

           Skies ignores them as goes over to the clothes. She picks one up: an old Hyperion sweatshirt with rips and stains. Everyone on Helios had a shirt like this- even her.

           “But it definitely looks like his size…” she mutters.

           “Bad news, guys,” Claptrap says, catching everyone’s attention. “Server’s down.”

         “What?” Sasha barks as she stares at the large blue screen. “Skies, you said this would work.”

           “Aw son of a taint!” Skies snaps, throwing down the shirt. “I was really hoping Jack would have this place on a separate server. Shit, shiiiiiiit!”

           “What now?” Vaughn asks.

           Skies groans loudly, clearly agitated. “Well…there’s one more place we can go. I know it’s on its own server but…augh, it’s a pain in the ass though, for so many reasons. I really, really didn’t wanna go there.”

           “Well, we got no other choice,” Sasha points out.

           “Yeah,” she sighs, “okay. The only- well, not only but a major problem is that we need Jack’s voice and bio-signature.”

           “Aw, man,” August groans.

           “Maybe we can put together a voice modulator,” Vaughn suggests.

           “No problem,” Claptrap chimes, “I am able to customize my voice and I have many instances of Jack speaking in my memory banks.” He’s silent for a second before speaking again, sounding exactly like Jack. “How’s this?”

           Everyone stares at him, bewildered.

           “Perfect, right?” Claptrap asks.

           “Good god, that’s unsettling,” Skies cringes.

           “But it should work,” Vaughn adds.

           “Yeah,” she agrees, “now we just need his bio-signature. Maybe we can find something in his old office or at Lynchwood.”

           “Gross,” Sasha comments.

           “Let’s go, team,” Claptrap declares.

           “Please change your voice,” Skies begs, “I can’t believe I’m saying this but I like your normal voice better.”

           “Aw thank you. Er, I mean.” He’s quiet again before speaking in his default voice. “Thank you!”

           “Alright,” she sighs and turns to the door. “Let’s go back to Lynchwood-.”

           She stops as she turns the corner and comes face to face with Handsome Jack.  

[rhysnrivers]

Odyssey to becoming a Published Author

(Note: with Odyssey being in the title, this is quite a long post.  The link to the facebook page that leads to where my novel can be bought from can be found at the bottom of the post, as can some of the initial artwork done)

So, despite never been a ‘blogger’ per se before, I’ve decided to write this article about my journey from having dreamed about writing and having my own works published, through to actually writing my ideas up and publishing them myself, as I’m sure that there are many an indie author and authoress out there who can relate and have been through the very same journey I have.

First thing’s first.  Rhys N Rivers is not my real name.  It’s a pen name.  There’s something in being anonymous when it comes to writing, almost like a sense of freedom.  This day and age of social media means that almost everything we do is recorded somewhere on the internet, and an opinion or action from ten years ago can be drudged back up to be ridiculed by the Facebook jury and/or the Karens of the internet, in line with the fashionable opinions of the day.  A pen name grants anonymity and to some degree, security.  The only people who know my identity are my immediate family and a few close, trusted friends.

When people embark on a new venture; be it a new hobby, learning a new language, travelling the world, changing jobs etc, the journey actually begins long before said venture starts.  Quite often, the journey always begins in the classroom, at home, in bed, in daydreams.  It begins as a state of ambition.  A plan that one day, will be put into action.

My authoring journey was no different.  Mine actually began around the age of eleven.  I was of the Harry Potter generation where I was the same age as the main characters in the early years when a new film came out each year.  J.K. Rowling got me into reading beyond in school, and I - being one of the cool kids, clearly - read a lot throughout my early and mid teenage years.  It was admittedly predominantly fantasy based, (Tolkien, Pratchett, Philip Pullman, Garth Nix) or Bernard Cornwall’s historical works before I branched out into people like Wilbur Smith and others.  When I was around 14 or 15, Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code took the world by storm and I also ended up reading all of his works. School provided a sophisticated reading list, which included Dickens and Golding, and so growing I had read through a rich and broad variety of fiction.

Where actually writing was concerned, I think it was about the age of eleven or twelve that I realised that I wanted to write properly.  I think it was actually after reading William Nicholson’s Wind Singer when I decided, and I set to task in writing coming up with a fantasy novel.  I didn’t start writing the plot straight away; I actually started coming up with characters and places, even drawing out a world map.  That was really fun to do.  It had a sense of total control to it.  What I decided was what things were.  Where a kid may not feel in control of things in other parts of life (insecurities of school, friends, growing up, relationships etc), this was something totally different.  The ability to create your own fictional world, in whatever genre you go for, is a form of escape and release in which you can develop your talents and ideas.  

There were lots of elements to what I was planning out - which included ideas from Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, The Legend of Zelda, The Wind on Fire among others.  To be honest, I’m actually glad that ‘project’ didn’t get very far.  Poor Christopher Paolini, the author of the Inheritance Cycle quadrilogy of books, was slated by certain groups and reviewers for his alleged lack of originality and using of ideas from other stories.  In Paolini’s defence, he was only fifteen when his first book was published, which is something that most fifteen year olds don’t achieve!  But I think that had I completed mine, it might have faced the same criticisms - not necessarily from reviewers or publishers, but perhaps friends and family reading through it first.

School, in particular, provided me with a lot of enthusiasm and inspiration to write (clearly, I was one of the cool kids).  My GCSE English teacher was a great bloke (probably still is) and gave great, honest and constructive feedback to the entire class’ work.  Our first piece of English Literature coursework was a piece on creative writing and I elected to do a piece on the topic of an opening chapter/opening chapters to a novel.  Having just read Dan Brown I did my piece in his sort of style: bloke copping it at the start, trying to prevent some conspiracy from going ahead, then the reluctant hero of the story gets dragged in to solving it.  My piece didn’t revolve around religious groups or secret societies, but around a historical artefact.

Out of 54 marks, this scored 52.  I was more than happy with that.  I had no idea where the story was going to go but I was determined that I would one day finish the story.  To this day, I still have no idea where the story is going, but I am certain that it will be the last novel of a set of three, dragging the main character, a desperately-can’t-wait-to-retire detective, through painstaking research, learning about history that he wouldn’t usually be arsed about and running away from people, of whom he’s becoming more and more of an embuggerance (word-invention credited to Terry Pratchett) to.

For some reason, I really can’t remember why, but about a year later the option was given to my English class to rewrite that piece of coursework (we were about four out of five coursework pieces done by that time).  I was of course happy with my score but I saw this as an opportunity to try something new and see what ideas could again come spewing from my mind.

This time, again sticking with the opening chapter(s) option, I wrote about a start of a medieval conspiracy, beginning around the Battle of Crécy and going…err…I still have no idea where!  But this piece resonated better than the previous piece, earning full marks from my English teacher, along with the comments “…should come with an 18 rated certificate.”  Again, I vowed that I would complete this story one day and see it published.  This one I think I will try to make into a three-book story.

The summer after completing my GCSE exams I did the normal stuff: went on holiday with family, chilled out with friends, even attended the World Scout Jamboree that year.  But I also by then had a set of ideas in my head that I wanted to turn into novels, and wrote that list onto a computer, and saved it to my USB memory stick.  I have no idea where I last saw that USB stick…

After I left school I joined the British Armed Forces.  I’m not going to write too much about what I did, where I went etc (not because I was part of some uber-top-secret unit, but more-so that it just doesn’t contribute to this post) but my priorities changed.  I read a lot less and writing properly in the near term future just was not a possibility, or something that I wanted to concentrate on at that time.

In early 2017 I was considering a career change, and during that time I joined fanstory.com, under my real name.  The purpose of doing this was to put myself into an environment with other amateur writers, gain inspiration from other budding authors (and hopefully give some inspiration back), and be in a place where my works could be read among ‘peers’, giving me a good steer on things.

It was on this website where my first novel, Payment, was conceived.  There was a competition going for short stories up to 7000 words long in the horror genre (“Put your readers on edge or terrorize them”) and so I thought this was a good place to test out to see what people think and to  develop my writing style.

It took me a couple of weeks to put Payment together and submit it.  I had never considered writing horror before but this, again, was an ample opportunity to try something new and see what I could come up with.  I decided to go with a 19th Century narrative; much like Mary Shelley and Bram Stoker.  I prefer to think or the horror genre as the old neo-gothic styles of writing - the old ghost stories.  Horror, in recent years, both in writing and film-making, has taken more of a gore and shock factor turn.  Personally, I think that will turn horror more into the thriller genre.  To me, horror should be about ghosts, vampires, witches - the occult and the supernatural.  And that’s that I have tried to achieve with Payment. 

What surprised me the most during the writing of this were my decisions to use the first-person narrative - something I used to despise growing up, and the use of a one-word title.  For some reason it used to bug me no end that it was becoming more and more common that artistic projects, be they novels, films, dance, visual art etc, would use one-worded titles.  I used to think that was a cop-out.  But here I am with Payment - a novel told in first-person narrative…

I have always thought that my writing style was/is closest to Terry Pratchett’s.  I’ve never tried to emulate him but his style of using irony, dry humour and satire, whilst also plummeting to some very deep philosophical ideas.  But I couldn’t do that whilst writing Payment.  The thing is with writing horror, is that you have to be able to maintain that macabre atmosphere all the through.  That actually isn’t easy.  I found there always has to be a sense of the character’s isolation, a sense of doom and gloom, and a sense of something about to happen.  

I didn’t win the completion that I entered.  I don’t think it even made the top three.  The votes are cast by the other entries’ writers and maybe a few other people.  I can’t remember if you could vote for your own project but I think you could.  The entries placed above mine, although I thought their storylines familiar with ideas already done, were admittedly much easier to read than my entry.  A 19th century style of writing will always lose to simplicity when people have a number of works to read.

But that didn’t deter me.  I’d created a fictional work and was determined to show it to the world.  I didn’t go ahead with the career change at that point but decided to fully review Payment, at get it out there as a completed project.

Fanstory is a good platform, it really is.  I’m not sure why, but after only a couple of months and having written a few competition entries, I came to stop writing on it.  My old job was getting in the way and to be honest, I was getting impatient with writing on it.  I had the mentality that I wanted to be published right now sort of thing.

A couple of years later, I did go ahead in a change of direction career-wise.  This provided the opportunity to fully revise Payment and make it into a ‘novelette’, more than 7000/7500 words but fewer than 17,500.  I would then prepare it for editing, get the artwork sorted and then publish it online for maybe a couple of quid.

I was actually in Tanzania at the time when I thought that Payment had been expanded enough to put out as a novelette.  Once I’d finished writing, I showed it to a couple of the volunteers I was working with and they both enjoyed it.  Although I was pleased about that, I still wasn’t satisfied with it.  I had touched on quite a few themes in the work but I don’t feel like I had explored them all as much as I could have.  Although complete, it felt very much incomplete.  At the same time I wanted to expand the work into a full novel and also I didn’t - mainly because of the challenge of maintaining that horror atmosphere.

I decided that, in order to put more meat onto the bones and develop this short story/novelette into a full length novel, I needed a goal to work towards; something that has an end achievement that will make me work to expand on what I had already done.  And so I set about looking for horror writing groups and/or competitions on the internet. 

In not much time at all I came across the Horror Writers Association (HWA).  They are a group that cater for all things horror and occult in fiction.  There, you can advertise your works, read or recommend other people’s works and learn about events - namely the StokerCon.

But what attracted me to them the most was their sponsorship of the Bram Stoker Awards (“for Superior Achievement”).  These are awards that are given out to authors and authoresses who have had their works judged in certain categories.  The one that has caught my eye is the ‘First Novel’ category.  A quick reading of the rules informed me of the minimal word limit:  40,00 words.  Perfect.  There’s something to work towards, with a chance at winning what is described as ‘the Oscars of horror writing’.  When I returned from Africa I set about the task of bolstering a 17,000-ish novelette into a 40,000 word minimum horror novel!

I have read Edgar Allan Poe in the past, and even bits of Mary Shelley.  For more inspiration in keeping that spooky, Neo-Gothic atmosphere, I read some parts of Bram Stoker and H.P. Lovecraft.  Despite all of that, I initially found it difficult to write again on the same piece of work that I started almost three years previously.  It was only after reading Susan Hill’s The Woman in Black, where I became inspired by her power of description to turn chapters, paragraphs and sentences that belong in quick short stories to ones suitable for a long read.

In January, this  year, I had finally finished.  I expanded heavily on the ideas that I was before concerned that I was rushing through and before I knew it, my word count was well over the 40,000 words I wanted to achieve!  I read it all again myself, edited out any spelling or grammar mistakes that I had seen, and sent it out to beta testers (readers) for opinions and editing.

Following the last edit - of which there wasn’t relatively much to do - my debut novel stands at a word count of 53,850 words!  That isn’t considered very long by today’s standards.  To give a point of reference, Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone is estimated to be around 77,000 words long (depending on who is doing the word count).  But my novel is longer than The Woman in Black as well as other novels such as The Great Gatsby and The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, and considering it came from a short story of 7,000 words I am still happy with it.

Concurrently with writing the novel came the task of finding an artist/illustrator for the cover.  That was a more difficult task than I expected.

Not only did I want to find someone who could create a suitable cover, I also wanted that someone to be able to do ‘scene art’; by which I mean a picture at the start of certain chapters.  The reason for this is that I see a completed novel itself as a form of art, and scene pictures add to that completed projected.  In fact, I actually wanted a sort of teamwork between the writing/art found in the Edge Chronicles books by Paul Stewart and Chris Riddell.  

I combed Facebook for a very long time, joining all sorts of groups and pages for amateur artists to show off their works, hoping to find someone who I thought was suitable for my work.  To my dismay, there was very little, I thought, that I could go off.

Around October time I put an advert on a freelancing work website, just for an idea of who else is out there and possibly able to take this up.  I did receive a fair few responses but, again, there wasn’t really anyone whose work suited what I was after.  A couple of them, one of them being an art company based in Central Asia, actually got quite nasty about it.  They were expectant 

It was when I was on a course in Spain that it was suggested to me to look on Reddit, as Reddit “literally has everything on it.”  I had never actually been a proper Reddit user before; I’d clicked the odd link from Facebook but had never really interacted with it before. 

The guy who suggested Reddit to me was right - Reddit has literally everything on it.  There’s so much information to be found on so many topics it seemed unlikely that I wouldn’t find what I was looking for on it, and so I combed through a few sub-reddits dedicated to (freelance) artists and checked some of them out.

So I once again posted out an advert looking for artists and this time the response were much more positive, and enthusiastic!  It really was quite uplifting to see and hear from so many people who were interested in taking up the project and I received so many messages.  Everyone who commented on the post and/or messaged me with links to their portfolios, I checked out their work.  I honestly don’t think there was a single person whose works of art that I wasn’t impressed by.  There is so much that can be found at deviantart.com and artstation.com and so much talent to be viewed and be in awe at!  Everyone who directly messaged me got a return thanking them.

One of the people I got talking to was a young lad from Sweden called Daniel Percy, whose artwork I also checked out.  My preferences came down to him and another guy from Germany, and after speaking with Daniel he agreed to take on the work.

Daniel does a lot of freelance art work, predominately doing concept art work for electronics companies (I want to say video games but don’t take that as gospel), but he still found the time to do this properly, compiling several drafts of the cover and inside sketches.  We collaborated quite often on what to change, ideas to put in etc.

The finished artwork is incredible!  I’m showing some of the initial first-sketch ideas here along with the final book cover, along with a couple of since-altered scene pictures, just for an idea of his talent.  You’ll have to buy the book to see all of the finished sketches ;)

And the final thing to think/worry/mull over until stupid o’ clock in the morning, was the publishing aspect.  Luckily, ever since I’ve thought about writing (as an adult), it has become increasingly easier to get your works out there.  The rise of the internet and social media age has made self publishing so much more accessible, and that is the route I have gone down.

At first, I wanted to go down the traditional printing route.  I - again showing cool I was as a kid - always liked the idea of a fresh and printed book in my hands.  But, there are two reasons why I haven’t done this:

The first one is environmental.  Even before the climate change debate became a fashionable thing to signal your virtues about, I was uncomfortable about the idea of trees being cut down for my creation, unless I could be 100% certain that exact same area would be immediately replanted.  It’s true, there are forested areas specifically for this kind of thing but the amount of bureaucracy involved, along with the middle-men, wouldn’t make it an immediate thing.

The second reason is that the majority of writers who send their works in get rejected by so many publishers.  Yes, people refer to J.K. Rowling’s story of being rejected twelve times (and again later by one of the same publishers when she first wrote as Robert Galbraith) before Harry Potter became a hit, but as the option of the internet is there, it makes sense to negate that possible rejection.  In the event that my works do get noticed and attract the attention of publishers, then great!  But if they don’t, at least by online publishing, I’ve still achieved putting my novel out to the world.

Finally, today, Friday the 13th (intentionally - it is a horror novel after all ;p ) of March 2020, I officially became a published author.  It is a fantastic, monumental feeling.  My story, my novel, my creation, is out there for people to buy, read and hopefully, enjoy.

If there’s any advice that I can give for anyone aspiring to be an (indie) author, it is this: just write your ideas down.  Sounds simple, if not downright obvious, but it really is incredible that so many people don’t achieve their dreams or aspirations simply because they don’t do them.  The world of authoring and indie writing is so much more accessible now than it was even fifteen years ago, that is takes a great lot of effort not to find at least one platform to get your works out onto.

It is also incredibly easy to find every excuse in the book to not write at all.  School, work, family etc, being the big ones, and they are legitimate reasons.  But they are only obstacles themselves to an extent, before you yourself make them obstacles.  Start small.  Set yourself half an hour on an evening.  No more, no less.  Half an hour to start getting your ideas onto paper and then after a week, you’ve spent three and a half hours writing.  You’d be surprised at how much you’ve achieved after three and a half hours of concentrated effort.

If you need motivation, there are plenty of people out there, particularly on the internet, who give great examples of motivation that apply to all disciplines.  Joe Rogan, for just one example, has plenty of people on his podcasts who talk and give advice on self-betterment, and it can apply to anybody.  If you want to write, you will find the time and means to do it.  It doesn’t matter how long it takes; everybody finds their ways at different times. 

As to my next works, what am I going to be writing next?  Well, shortly after writing Payment as a short story I thought of another idea to write about, and use that particular project to actually develop my writing style.  This next one, of which the first ‘act’ as such does already have a skeleton outline to it, is a light hearted yet philosophical at times medieval adventure, combining humour and seriousness together.  I’m not going to divulge ay more information the storyline because, although it’s a simple idea, I believe it’s one that no-one’s done before and some smart-arse with more time on their hands than I can easily bash something together using my idea!

The school coursework pieces?  They are still on my ideas list and will no doubt be developed into their own proper projects and they hopefully will also be published just as Payment is!  The fantasy that I started aged eleven?  Absolutely no idea.  Whilst I would certainly like to do fantasy, going for originality is going to be difficult, as the standard format (young hero finds out he’s the ‘chosen one’ and goes on a long quest) has been done to death, as have a lot of fantasy ideas already.  George R R Martin had the idea of using the idea of old English houses warring against other in the past, and that was used to great effect even before he threw in the ice zombies!  So that one is going to be a case of properly allocating some time to sit down, think and decide how I’m going to go about, but make no mistake, I will go about it!

Thank you all for taking the time to read through this!  I hope its provided at least some entertainment or light (ha!) reading, and I hope you’ll feel interested to buy my debut novel!

My Facebook page can be found at:  

https://m.facebook.com/Rhys-N-Rivers-Writing-101015961412385/?ref=bookmarks

All the places where Payment can be bought from can be found there.  I thought it better to post one central link than the individual ones.

[clevernewdimension]

Polaris Part Four

Parts: Preview, Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five (Coming soon!)

Genre: Action, drama, romance, sci-fi, etc.

Paring: Jongin x Character

Word count: 6.9K

A/N: Ready for some action? ;)

I didn’t sleep that night. I just stared at the ceiling, waiting. I was use to the night being when all the bad things happened that I mostly slept during the day. The night, for a very long time, made me uneasy. Truthfully, after seeing him here, or all places, it brought that all back. After all, someone as powerful as him could just find a way in here. A few smiles and a bit of flirtation to the desk, combined with his authority would make it very easy for him to come up here if he wanted. I didn’t want to be asleep if he ever did decided to show up. The morning came, the light slowly coming to life. I got up, took a shower and got dressed in some normal clothes. A pair of jeans and a black plain shirt. I put my hair into a messy bun, not bothering to dry it as I made sure to place my key card in my pocket along with the communicator. I took a glance at my reflection. I looked awful. Bags under my eyes, dark circles… I look how I felt. Exhausted and terrified. It didn’t help that there was this brewing anxiety within me. Something felt off, and I wasn’t sure exactly what. But I didn’t like it.

I close my eyes, seeing that man. The both of us younger. Rhys in front of me, looking in a mirror, smiling as he ran his hands down my sides. I glared, blinking and forcing the memory away. He felt all those nice, good, pleasurable things and all I felt was shame and the pain. Of starving. Of being used.

It took everything I had not to puke right in the moment.

I open the door, moving to the elevator. I press the ground floor, leaning against the wall as I wait. The walls all glittering and shining with coins and credits. I sigh, looking around for something to do to wait for until we were going to leave.

I wasn’t expecting Baekhyun to, seemingly out of nowhere, grab my arm and drag me away. He was dressed casually, which I almost never see him in. His hair was pushed back, out of his face. His skin was also free of makeup, which he loves to wear often. He looked upset, and I try to figure out what it is I could have done for him to have waited on me.

“About time,” He says, a frown on his face. “I was about to come and get you.” He was wearing a pair of tight jeans and a tee with a weird geometrical design on it. He was looking around, acting casual, but I knew he was looking to see if anyone was watching us.

“What are you doing,” I say, following him down the grand halls, people’s voices echoing all around us in a multitude of languages. People partied and gambled their days away, from sun up to sun down.

He doesn’t reply, before twisting the knob of a door that says employees only. He pushes me inside, before shutting it behind the two of us. The room was a station used to fix artificial limbs, apparently. After all, you need to be able to see the very small, miniature details of the wiring and how it’s made in order to fix them. Quite a few in the Syndicate has lost limbs, so it isn’t unheard of. From what I’ve seen on our travels, both Kyungsoo and Yixing have. You can use tech to make it seems like skin and feel like skin, even. Kyungsoo’s left hand was metal, I noticed after he had to repair it quickly on the ship. He muttered curses, talking about getting a new one for the first time in five years since the tech has advanced so much by even just that small amount of time. Yixing’s right leg was one up until mid-thigh. Though, with these limbs, they can touch and feel things unlike the ones from the past. According to Jongin, who sparred against Yixing a few times, he almost lost a tooth from being kicked by his metal leg. Even the special forces sometimes forgets it’s metal.

I see Junmyeon and Minseok looking at a computer, while Yixing was holding out his arm for them. I felt my heart quicken, my mouth go dry as I see them scanning his arm. On the screen was a close up magnification of it, where you can see the ting robots working together as one. He looks at me, his eyes dark like mine. He didn’t get any sleep either, it seems.

“Microbiological tech,” Junmyeon says, zooming in. “We can probably get rid of it. Looks like with a big enough shock, they’ll go offline for a few seconds.”

I look at Yixing, “Is this… is it really?”

He nods, “Yeah.” He goes to say something, but I see as it was like he hit the wall, not being able to say what he really wanted. Tribil didn’t want it’s secrets exposed, after all. He just looked up, a look of understanding shared with me.

I had a bad feeling in the bit of my stomach. I couldn’t explain it, I just know something is going to go wrong. It could be this, dealing with the secrets to Tribil, or something else, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was going to happen, and it was going to be bad.

Minseok signs, “Well, if we can shut it off, we can get it out, right?”

“It’s locked in there otherwise,” Baekhyun says, looking over. “But how to get it out?”

The door opens and I look over, seeing Jongin walk in. “Oh,” He says, “you found her.”

He was quiet, looking up at me before moving his gaze to everyone else. He wore half of his pilot suit, the other half of the jumpsuit was down, tied around his waist. He had on a tank top, black and with the logo for some old movie from over a century ago. Something about making dinosaurs and bringing them back from extinction. Sounds ridiculous, but apparently what was once fiction is now fact as one of the planets just outside the Milky Way was turned into a dinosaur attraction.

I look up, seeing him look at me, eyes full of worry. Ever since I was hurt, he was acting different. Kinder. Calmer. Not as full of himself. It was a… a really nice change. He’s a pretty good person when he’s not acting like a stuck up asshole.

“We can’t use a knife and pry it out,” Baekhyun says, leaning against a wall. My thoughts brought back to the situation at hand. He looked worried, thinking and he glanced at Junmyeon. “They will probably be back online in a few seconds. That would take a few minutes.”

“Why not use the huge ass magnet we have in the hanger,” Jongin suggests, looking over and seeing the mark. The light shining on Yixing’s arm, making it clear to everyone in the room. “It can lift things that weigh over a ton. Surely those microscopic things won’t stand a chance.”

“My leg isn’t magnetic,” Yixing says, looking at them, “So that wouldn’t be an issue.” I watch as even that was a struggle for him to say. He was tense, taking a deep breath, calming himself.

I fucking hated the influential people on Tribil.

Minseok nods, “Alright, let’s do that.”

My heart was racing, knowing that this part of the nightmare, being unable to tell, could be over in just a few minutes. The second he nods, the building shakes, a loud explosion rocking us. I grab onto the wall, holding myself steady as an alarm starts to go off. The lights in the room flashing red. “Emergency, we are under attack. Please find the nearest bunker in a calm and orderly fashion.”

“Fuck,” Baekhyun says, looking at Minseok. He just moves to the door, not caring if someone saw us leaving the room we were not supposed to be in. He walked with authority, the rest of us following up behind him as he took out his communicator, probably telling everyone where we were. Leaving the room, we run out. Jongin and Yixing ahead of us, Sehun, who was standing outside the door, I assuming keeping watch when he and Jongin got there, looked around, following them quickly. I quickly followed, as people were running and screaming around us, funneling into the bunker that was behind us. Children crying, people trying to force their way in first because they felt like they deserved it more than others.

We got to the entrance, which was a struggle to get into as people were running in as quick as they could. Even in their panic, they kept trying to shove against us as we were fighting to get out and help however we could. I shoved a man who tried to shove me out his way, only to get a terrified glare back.

I finally felt the cool air of the outside as we got out the door and out of the crowd of people trying to get inside. My eyes widen, seeing a Kryton warship, many shall fighters flying off and starting to attack. To our side was president Yssa, who just ran outside, staring in terror at the ship.

“We have to get to our ships,” Jongin says, looking at Sehun. “We need to help!”

“They’re locked,” Yssa says, as if breaking out of a trance. “Your ship isn’t in a private hanger, it’s public. In a state like this, public hangers are locked for the safety of the people, so encourage them to get to the shelters. They’re locked and nothing can unlock it unless we end the threat.”

A motorcycle flyer rushes past, taking a moment to stop. They’re used on assaults once you get through a planet's atmosphere. It looked like one that was taken, not Kryton made. The Kryton on it screams, roaring, its teeth are all jagged and needle like as he just glares. He goes to pull up his pistol but Yixing was quicker on the draw. He shoves Yssa out his way, throwing his knife deep into the forehead of the Kryton. Yssa looked shocked at how quick Yixing was, his eyes wide in wonder, watching him. He rushes over, grabbing his knife and puts it back. He looks over the flyer, moving on it. “I’m going to take out what I can with this, It has a few guns on it, dumb fuck didn’t even know how to work it!”

Minseok nods, knowing that, if anyone can do something as crazy as fight from a motorcycle flyer, it’s Yixing. The man was practically a one man army, after all.

Jongin looks at Yssa, “Where are your ships, we’re commandeering two.” I could see his anger at not being able to get to his ship, but he pushes it aside as he tried to find someway to help.

“They’re two seaters, all of them,” He says, before moving and directing us. We all follow quickly, not wanting to waste anymore time. “One person flying, one person shooting.”

Sehun curses, “Fuck!” He turns to Jongin, his fleet captain. “We need both of us flying, Jongin. No one on his planet will be as good as us.” He says, looking around. The pilots that are getting ready looked like they were about to shit themselves, having never had to do something like this. Face something like this. Sehun was right. He looks back at Jongin, “We can’t just rely on that.” He looks at us, our full group meeting up at the entrance a few seconds ago. Sehun looks back to the fighting that has broke out, the sounds of explosions and ships being blasted into pieces. Shrapnel falling from the sky like the acid rain. The lasers firing with a loud squeal. The youngest glances back at us, pulling Chanyeol, “I know your eyes help you with your aim. I’m going to see you since you’re the best shot besides Yixing since I’m the worse flyer between Jongin and myself. I’ll need the advantage against them.”

Chanyeol nods. At times like these, Chanyeol’s courage is unwavering. He’s willing to do whatever he can. “You got it. Let’s go.” Chanyeol, dressed in casual clothes like me, looking ready to do whatever he needed. I’ve seen Chanyeol when he had to take his marksmanship tests that are required every year, and Sehun isn’t joking. The man could have easily made it into Phoenix team if he wanted if he just learned hand to hand.

The youngest fleet captain in the history of the Syndicate was looking at the raging battle, his hands clenched, shaking. I could see the determination in his eyes as he shakes his head, “We can’t let people die needlessly,” He says, mostly to himself as another explosion happens. The lasers from the war ship firing, hitting the shield of the building. The shield started to flicker, going to be failing soon. The lasers on the war ship takes a while to charge, however, giving us some time. He turns, his shoulders back and his gaze hardened over the countless fights he’s been a part of. Jongin looks over, eyes landing on me as he was untying the arms of his suit and getting it back on, pushing his arms through the sleeves.

I knew what he meant immediately. He wanted me to be his shooter. “Are you crazy,” I ask, my heart racing quickly, wincing at a explosion as a Kryton ship crashed next to us about fifty feet away. I shake my head, “I-I can’t!”

“You can shoot, Lyra, I’ve seen it. You saved my life that day,” Jongin says, looking at me as he takes my arm, directing me as we follow further to the hanger. There was a force wall before a huge hanger. Hanger H, painted on the wall. We were racing to it quickly, trying to avoid the debris. This place had a lot of security just for cases like this, apparently. “I saw you, shooting the Krytons. My flares were being reloaded and they were about to shoot me with a heat seeking missile. I would have died if someone didn’t kill them first. You did that. You can do this.”

I remember that. Seeing him, wondering if I was too late. If I was about to watch the last pilot die all alone. “It doesn’t matter,” I say, as we get in and Yssa commands two ships for out use. “That was so long ago and I haven’t been at a battle since then!”

Jongin turns to me, looking me in the eyes. “You have no idea. You saved my life. I’m only here because of you. Everything I’ve done, every person I’ve ever helped, it’s because of you.” He says, placing his hands on my shoulders, stopping me for a moment. “I get to see my brothers still because of you. I get to see my friends, I get to meet new people and experience so many things and it’s all because you saved me. The people I help are really people you’ve helped. You have no idea how much that means to me, do you?” He says, his eyes full of so many emotions at once it was hard to look him in the eyes. He looks back, shaking his head as another loud explosion goes off, shrapnel comes towards us. Jongin pulls me into his arms, turning his back and covering me from the raining metal and pieces of broken crystal that make up the windshields. He holds me close as I hear all of that rain down around us. Jongin walks forward, making me walk back through the force wall with ease as he shielded me.

He pulls away, looking at me with a look of honesty and sincerity. “My ship, you’ve always wondered why I named it what I did. ‘That’s the dumbest name, it makes no sense, those dumb shapes’,” He says, imitating my voice with a small smile. “I’ve never told you because it’s named Aryl. Backwards, it spells Lyra,” He says, and I could see a slight bit of pink on his face. My heart was pounding, my face flushed. Why would he ever do that, I’m not that important.

“I named it after you because you were there for me when I had no one else.” He shakes me by the shoulders, his eyes never leaving mine. “I was going to die alone. From the cold of space or from the fiery explosion, I was doomed.” I see his eyes water up, a brief moment of emotion, a crack in his otherwise spotless and perfectly polished armour. “Listen to me, Lyra. There is nothing I could ever do to repay you. I sat there, scared to die. I was on the comms with Junmyeon, telling him goodbye I was that certain I was going to die.”

I look back, seeing Junmyeon, who stopped when he heard that, his eyes full of sorrow remembering that. He blinks, before pulling Baekhyun along with him over to the massive room that said ‘Comms’.

I turn back, see the tears fall down his face, feeling a few of my own falling down mine as well. “I was sat there, thinking that I still had so much left to do and how I was going to die never having lived at all. But then you shot that ship. You gave me a second chance. I would rather have no one else up there with me as my shooter, Lyra, because I know if I have you with me, I can’t possibly be shot down.”

I was stunned, as he just looked at me, before turning as if he didn’t pour out so much of his heart. He pulls me over to one of the two ships. Sehun and Chanyeol already getting situated in one themselves. I never knew it meant that much to him. I had always assumed he forgot about that. I remember it, because he was the last ship and our last hope. He had to stay alive, he just had to or else everyone in the station was doomed. We were just sitting ducks without the pilots outside.

Before I know it, I was in a ship, Jongin clicking seatbelts closed, pulling on the straps so they were as tight as possible. He looked determined, making sure I was as safe as he could make me. I always heard people talk about Jongin, about how he’s kind and caring and would do whatever he could to save people. I never really believed the kind and caring part, but now, I can see that. It was like my eyes were opening for the first time about how the man before me truly was. I take a deep breath, calming myself as much as I could. I look, seeing a screen in front of me and two controls to aim the machine laser gun and the missiles with. He places a helmet on my head, connecting it to the oxygen. I watch him take the other helmet that was in the ship, putting it over his head as he moves into his seat in front of me.

“Mic test,” He says, his voice coming from the radio in my helmet. “Can you hear me, Lyra?”

“Yeah,” I say, my hands shaking. I felt like I was going to be sick, but I kept myself as composed as I could. I tried to compose myself, push my emotions away and just let my brain take over. Let my instinct of survival take the wheel.

“We can do this,” He says, his voice surrounding me in this helmet. I hold onto the machine gun control, trying to stop my heart from racing. After his speech, his voice was calming in this moment of complete and utter chaos.

“Mission command, this is Captain Kim Jongin of the Syndicate, officer number 0307KJI88, ready to take off, over,” He says, calmly as ever. I see Sehun and Chanyeol fly off, speeding away, entering the fray.

“Mission command is temporarily under the supervision of the Syndicate,” I hear Junmyeon’s voice say, “You have permission to go. Give them hell.”

Before I could catch my breath, we were racing off at a speed I’ve never felt before. My eyes water as I blink, trying to get them clear. He swerves, avoiding crashing into the main warship which was getting closer and closer. Jongin looks at it, “Lang, do you know how to shut that thing down?”

I push down the button for the machine gun, letting hundreds of laser shots flying at an oncoming Kryton ship. It turned into a ball of fire, exploding as we raced by it. I look at it, taking a glance, “If we take out the thrusters, it’ll fall. Kyrton ships have a place on the bottom of it that, if you get though the metal lining, will expose the Krytil crystals. They’re like Quantinium, but more reactive and more unstable. They’ll explode like a mini nuke, but without the radiation. We just have to stop it from getting closer and we can give it a go, instead. That way it’ll kill everyone on board and all the rest of the ships, if they still have some.”

“Get that, bro,” Jongin asks, as he takes a sharp left, rolling as we dodge and weave through the massive flights. I briefly catch Yixing shooting other Kryton’s on flyers. I could feel bile rise in my throat, but I held it down. I shot at everything I could that was an enemy, seeing some go out in explosions.

“Yeah,” He says, “I think we can hack into their ships mainframe and take the shield down. Baekhyun and I will work on it. Just kill as many as you can.”

“You got it,” He says, “Lang, this ship, is it front heavy or back heavy?”

“Front, from what I can see with the guns and missiles at the front half.” I reply, “Why?”

“I’m just going to need to know,” He says, as we hear a warning beep. With a quick dive, we dodge out the way of a missile, letting it hit the warship. We skirted along the top of the acid, parely keeping from touching it as he pulls up.

“Two ships on our tail,” I say, looking at the radar. “When we shoot the Krytil, we’ll be blasted. This ship will be pretty much out of commission from the blast. We’ll have to leave the fight immediately or else we will be shot down.”

“I figured as much,” He says, “I’ll have to get us away as quick as possible. We will be targeted.” He flips a switch, “This ship has more maneuverability than theirs, well get them off our tail,” He says, zooming off towards a large rock formation. It formed a rock bridge between two mountains, higher than even the building we were staying at. He pulls up, heading right for the underside of it.

We were getting closer and closer, my heart was racing. There was a few beeps of warning that we were getting closer and closer. “Jongin, you have to move!”

“Trust me,” He says, going up still, the two ships were about to catch up, before I watch as he pushes the stall button that was under the switch he flipped. The ship stalls, the thrusters shutting off in an instant. We were falling down now, the momentum from going full speed forward to now back was enough to make my head spin. The two Kryton ships crash into the underside of the rock bridge, becoming fireballs of flames. The ship turned as it fell, the front being heavier turning us as he removes his hand from the stall button, the ship roaring back to life. Some rocks from the bridge were falling as Jongin effortlessly dodged them, getting back to the frey.

He rolls out the way of a ship, ducking and coming back up before we hear Junmyeon on the comms again. “We can hack it, you’ll have about twenty seconds to fire a missiles at the bottom of the ship,” He says, and I could hear him frantically typing away.

“Got it,” Jongin says, “Start now!”

Jongin moves, getting us to turn back towards the war ship. A quick one eighty degree turn before we’re looking at the bottom of the war ship.

“Now,” Junmyeon yells, just as I see the shields flicker off.

I aim the laser machine gun, melting a hole for me to shoot the missiles into. I quickly lock on, hearing Junmyeon countdown. With three seconds to spare it explodes, rocking our ship back. It was beeping loudly, sustaining massive damage from the aftershock of the explosion as Jongin was cursing. He flew up, trying to get out of the fighting after the massive hit our ship got. The war ship was a huge ball of fire, falling into the acid bay.

We were so close to being away from it all, to getting back safe and away. A Kyrton, on his motorcycle flyer hops onto our ship. With his strength, he rips the clear hardened crystal top off, air flying around us.

“Fuck,” Jongin yells, trying to steer us so that we’re over land and not the acid. If we land in that we will surely die a very painful death. “Junmyeon, we’re going to have to eject!”

I didn’t get to hear the reply. The Kryton rips my seat belts, pulling me out of my seat. I scream, making sure to grab my laser pistol. It yanks off my helmet, throwing it to the side as it roared in my face. A loud hit to our thrusters left our ship in a standstill. We weren’t falling, just left there, floating there miles and miles above the ground. Jongin quickly takes his seat belts off, along with his helmet, shrugging on a backpack quickly, clipping it on his torso and legs.

I point the pistol, watching as he was about to shoot Jongin in the back of the head as the pilot was pulling on the backpack. I shoot his hand, making him drop the gun off. Jongin catches it, about to kill it but it was a bit too late. The Kryton yells in pain, looking at me before tossing me over the side of the ship.

All I could hear was the air rushing about me as I started to fall. The air sucked out of my lungs from being up so high, falling quickly. I see the dead body of the Kryton fall too, before Jongin jumps over the side. I tried to remember all that we learned in training. We were all required to learn it, just in case. I kept my body as open and as parallel to the ground as I could in order to slow down my fall, looking back and seeing Jongin diving to me. My eyes were watering, my heart racing as I could see myself racing to the ground.

A few moments later, I feel his arms wrap around me, pulling me close before his legs do too. His entire body curled around me, holding me tightly. Then I feel us being pulled back, Jongin holding me with everything he has as the parachute unfurls. I was lucky that he was part Etheron, as they are stronger than humans. There was no way a human’s strength would have held me. I look up, seeing the golden piece of cloth that saved our lives, before letting out a breath I was holding.

Jongin was just holding me as tightly as he could, shooting people who got too close to us for his liking. He waited harmlessly, falling into the grass to the side of the big of the building right at the edge of the valley, a few hundred meters away. I laid against the soft grass, taking a few deep breaths. Jongin besides me, still sitting up and watching. He’s alert still, ready to kill any Kryton that got too close to us.

“Battles winding down,” He says, looking a lot calmer that I feel, that’s for sure. Though he’s probably use to it. “If we wait they’ll send people to look for us.”

I didn’t answer as I turned, finally letting out the bile I’ve held back through most of the flight. It burned my throat and my nose as I feel his hand on my back, rubbing soothing circles into it. It smelled awful and tasted worse. I glance up, his hair completely a windswept mess. My bun just in a ponytail now, tangled as I move back, resting against the ground. When I looked back I saw his left sleeve torn off, a large cut into the skin along with one on his face, through his right eyebrow.

“Never… we’re never doing that again,” I say, my heart still racing as fast as it could.

Jongin looks at me as he crouched down, smiling with a loud laugh. “Here I thought Lyra Lang would be a thrill seeker,” He says, reaching into one of the many pockets on the side of his leg. He pulls out a revolver looking pistol as he holds it up, pulling the trigger. It shoots up, a mix of a flare and a firework. The purple smoke leaving a trail where we are, fireworks exploding.

“I just got thrown over the side of a ship,” I yelled, sitting up and resting my head on my knees that I pulled to my chest. “I think that’s all the thrill I’ll need for the rest of my life.”

Jongin, who just takes a cloth from one of his other pockets, smiles as he presses it to his forehead. I hear a sound behind me as I turn, seeing Yixing on the motorcycle flyer racing towards us. He brakes, hopping off and looks at us. He looks at me, getting on his knees, “I saw you falling,” He says, “Lyra, I thought you were dead.”

“I’m going to sleep for the next three days like I am,” I mutter, earning another laugh from Jongin, who was acting like this was just an everyday thing for him.

“Come on,” Yixing says, “You two can fit on the flyer.”

I stand, my legs feeling like jello. I was honestly just a wreck. Yixing gets on, starting it up as I get on after him. Jongin gets on after me, his hand holding my hips as he rests his head on my shoulder, still holding the cloth on his face. I could feel him trembling, hands shaking like leaves in a hurricane. It affected him a lot more than he showed.

Yixing, though a ear piece, was talking to the command center. I turn to Jongin, “Seems like I wasn’t the only one scared.”

He lets out a small laugh, “Normally I’m not. I was just… I didn’t want you to die, is all.”

His words stayed with me for a while, as Yixing stops at the front of the big hotel and casino. He get off, and immediately Junmyeon pushed people out the way, pulling Jongin into a hug that was like a vice grip. He looked over at me, smiling, before pulling me into one too.

“When he said that the Kryton threw you from the ship,” He says, shaking his head, “I feared the worst. I’m glad you’re safe, Lyra.”

“Can’t kill me that easily I suppose,” I mutter quietly, feeling still a bit sick and, after a night of no sleep, exhausted.

Sehun was standing, holding Jongin in a hug too. “Don’t scare me like that,” Sehun says, though his voice harsh and mean, the look of worry on his face showed that it all came from a good place. Sehun looking shaken, “Never worry us like that ever again.”

He then looked at me, and I just shrugged, “It wasn’t my fault.”

Minseok walked out, President Yssa at his heels. He looks over at us all, his eyes landing on Jongin and myself. “You're absolutely insane, the both of you,” He says, “But, because of your quick thinking, Lang, people are still alive.”

I feel my face flush, “Umm… sure. Just never make me do that ever again, please.”

Minseok looks at me, worried. “Are you ok,” He asks, looking over me.

“Oh, you know, being ripped out a ship and thrown off the side is just… well, traumatizing,” I say, frowning. I could feel my hands shaking as I looked over at Jongin, who was just smiling at Chanyeol. “I think I need to go take a bath and sleep.”

Yixing looks out, seeing the last new ships chasing down the last of the Krytons. “Some tried to escape on foot,” He says, “I’m going to lead a squad and hunt them down. Three of them, going down into the valley.”

Yssa nods, “Please. I don’t want them to hurt anyone down there.”

Minseok nods, giving Yixing permission. Kyungsoo walked to Jongin looking at his arm. “This will scar,” He says, looking at his face, “That one, too.”

“Good thing scars look great on me,” He says with a smile, “Just another to add to my collection.”

Kyungsoo nods, before looking at me. “You seem fine. A bit sick… tired. You didn’t get sleep last night, did you?”

“Do you just know everything,” I say, pouting.

“Yes,” He says, smiling. “We’re all aware of the situation. I’m sure someone here wouldn’t mind being in your room to let you sleep if that would help. I have people to go look after, lives to save.”

“I’ll do it,” Sehun says, looking at me. He places his arm around my shoulders, glancing back at Jongin. “You need to file a report. General Kim has been asking for word when a moment can be spared according to Baekhyun.”

Jongin’s face turned sour, before reaching for Sehun’s communicator, “Tell our father that we’ll be with him in a moment. For now we have to get patched up and make sure everything is safe.”

“Will do,” Baekhyun says, “Though, I get the feeling you want me to say something else, but whatever.”

Kyungsoo immediately grabbed Jongin’s arm, pulling him inside. I sigh, rubbing my eyes as Sehun just walks along with me. The hotel was still empty, the people all in the bunkers for at the very least another five to ten minutes. It was peaceful for a moment. It was nice, as we got into the elevator.

Once we got to my room, Sehun smiled, “You shower first. I don’t take fifteen years.”

I punch him in the arm softly, feeling my eyes feel heavy. The hardest part was trying to untangle my ponytail. A lot of conditioner and a little patience helped, though. I got into pajamas, flopping on the bed just as Sehun went into the bathroom.

This time, I passed out almost immediately.

“At least these weren’t caused by you being a reckless idiot,” Kyungsoo says, pulling off his gloves as Jongin looked down at his stitched up arm. From just above his elbow all the way to the nail of his middle finger. It was sore, but not uncomfortable. He also had a few in his face, right through the eyebrow. Jongin just shrugged.

“You know, if you really wanted to tell him to fuck off, right then would have been the time to do it,” Kyungsoo says, looking over at him with knowing eyes.

Jongin rolls his eyes, “That is something that once it starts, it won’t stop.”

“I don’t know what he’s done,” the doctor says, moving and washing his hands. The water so hot it was steaming, “But seems to me like none of you like him at all.”

“What gives you that impression,” Jongin says with a sarcastic smile.

Kyungsoo just shuts the water off, drying his hands, “Jongdae got drunk one time and ranted to me about it. Told me that you and Minseok got the worst of it, whatever it is. Nothing specific.”

“He was less of a father and more like a weapon maker,” Jongin says, “And we were what he thought of as his weapons. If he had it his way, we all would be a part of a team like Yixing is, only to do his personal bidding.” Jongin, since they were in his room, was thankful for the chance to change as he pulled off his pilot’s jumpsuit and pulled on pajama pants. After he speaks, he’s coming back to bed. As he pulled his shirt off, he showed Kyungsoo.

Tiny scars littered his chest, all over. Made to perfectly be hidden even when wearing a sleeveless shirt. “These are what we got if we failed him. We were born on Earth, but spent most of our time on the General’s private space station. You know what they say about it.”

“There, his word is law,” Kyungsoo says, nodding, looking at all the marks. Some thinner, cleaner, cut with what he would assume a scalpel. Some look like steak knife cuts. If you didn’t know they were there, they are virtually invisible. Someone had to have taken good care of them after. “It’s awful,” The doctor says, feeling a deep hatred bubbling knowing that the man who leads them did this to his own sons.

Jongin turns, and Kyungsoo sees a scar on his back. It also had some of the lines, but most of all was a brand. Right between the shoulder blades. A sun, with an eye design. The personal seal of the Kim family, made for them since their ancestors made the Syndicate. Jongin pulls on a shirt, before yawning and turning to the door.

“You should probably just stay here and rest,” Kyungsoo says, trying to stop him.

“And leave them to face him alone,” Jongin asks, looking back, “Not going to happen. I appreciate the concern, though. Really, it’s… I never tell you all how much my brothers and I appreciate all of you. It’s nice to have someone to care for us.”

Kyungsoo grabs his bag, following him quickly, “Then you should at least let me prescribe you with something that will calm your nerves. Your hands are still shaking. You look like your two seconds away from having a panic attack.” He says, placing his hand on the younger man’s shoulder, “And you don’t have to thank us, idiot.”

Jongin looks at his hands, which were, despite his best efforts, still giving away his weaknesses. “This… this is honestly the first time this has happened in years,” He looks at the older doctor, who was giving him a look telling him to tell the truth. “I’m serious. It really is. I… I almost got Lyra killed today and I just need a moment to rest and then I’ll be fine, I promise.”

The doctor scoffs, slapping his shoulder lightly, “That wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have guessed that would happen.”

Jongin says nothing, just nodding. The elevator ride down was long, quiet. Kyungsoo knew that Jongin was preparing himself to speak with their father. He knew the General was an asshole, but never knew how big of one. It made his blood practically boil knowing that people turned a blind eye to the abuse Jongin and his brothers faced.

The command center of the whole casino had a large hologram center. Jongin walked in, seeing Junmyeon at the chair, preparing the program. Baekhyun touched his shoulder, preparing to take over for him. He steps into the circle, ready to face him.

The circle broadcasts a replica hologram form to the person or people you are talking to, and in turn, does the same to people in their circle. It still flicker in, and look like the person is there in front of you. It’s always unnerving when they speak to him like this.

Minseok looks calm and composed. He was, after all, trained to be the person who would run the Syndicate after father. Sure, it’s a group of six, but truthful he runs the show. Minseok was trained to be his successor, Junmyeon trained to be his spy, Jongdae to be the judge on his side and Jongin to be his warrior. However, they spoiled his plans and left, getting all stationed on EXO Prime. Because of that, their sister, Minjung, was trained in Minseok’s place. She was just like their father. Cruel. Strict. Cold.

The thing flickered to life and they see him. His black hair perfectly placed, in a suit that had designs of the Syndicate crest. His hair was greying, adding an even colder look to him. His eyes were brown, unlike his sons who go it from their mother. He looked calm, composed.

All four of them do the Syndicate salute, their fist over their chests, standing tall, proud and unashamed. Minseok spoke first, being the highest rank. “Hello, Commander General Kim,” He says, moving his fist and bowing.

Jongin notices their sister behind him, her hair up in a perfect braided bun without a single hair out of place. Minjung looked regal in a way, especially how she held herself with grace. Her eyes, like theirs, purple, though without warmth. She was tall, only a little shorter than Minseok. She was born before Junmyeon, the second oldest of the lot. She glanced at Jongin, her face turning into a look of disgust, “What are you wearing, dear brother?”

“I just got out of a fight,” Jongin says, motioning to his arm, “Forgive me if I’m not in a uniform that is perfectly pressed like those of you who wait on the side lines.”

She glares at him. Her uniform was the definition of perfection. Before she could speak, the Commander cuts her off.

“I wanted to check in on the situation there on Ysimir,” He says, voice kept calm and emotionless. “It’s rather alarming when a war ship besides to attack out of nowhere, after all. I’ve sent people from the closest base to check the area around to make sure no others are close by.”

“Thank you,” Minseok says, “I was going to submit a request for that, since I’m out of my jurisdiction and can’t command it.”

“I hear that, besides the sudden attack, it was taken care of quickly,” Minjung says, her voice, while soft, had a sharp edge to it. Just like their fathers. She looked over to Jongin, “Your ship was the one that took care of it, yes?”

Jongin nods, keeping himself composed, “Yes. I flew while my gunner handled the shooting. It was tricky-”

“It was reckless,” His father says, making Jongin tense. “You are not just a pilot, boy. Next time, let someone else handle that.”

Jongin’s fists clench at his sides, wanting to say something so badly, but held back.

This time, Junmyeon spoke, “No other person could have piloted the mission and returned alive.” Junmyeon, tense, glaring at the hologram of their father.

Their sisters scoffs, “It was practically a suicide mission. So, next time, do what other people who send pilots on suicide mission do. Send the one who can be sacrificed and spare the best.”

Jongin snapped. He glared at his sister, “If you keep sacrificing people, sooner or later there will be no one left. People won’t want to join if they know the Syndicate views them as pawns.”

“Enough,” Commander Kim says, silencing Minjung before she could speak. She glared at Jongin, before looking at her father. “Our difference of opinions matters not. Who thought of the plan? Who knew of the weakness of the ship?”

Minseok spoke, “Our mechanic, Master Sergeant Lang Lyra.”

“A mechanic,” He says, nodding. “Makes sense. They do know how ships work, after all.” Their father looks at Minseok, “I want to meet Miss Lang when she arrives on Earth. Thank her for what she did. After, I expect you to promote her, especially seeing as, from the video we have, she almost died. And that she saved my son.”

Jongin felt uneasy, thinking about his father and Lyra. He was a master at manipulating people to believe him and whatever it is that he says. Though he knows Lyra isn’t easily persuaded in the slightest. She can see through masks.

“How about the Krytons who got away,” Minjung asks, crossing her arms over her chest. “Sloppy work can get innocent people killed, after all.”

“Phoenix captain has found and killed them all,” Jongdae says, speaking up for the first time. He’s calmed a little, though the rage is liable to burst any moment. He and Minjung are very volatile towards one another.

With a glance, she looks at Jongdae, a small sneer on her face. She nods, before looking back at their father.

“All in all, it was an acceptable job,” Their father says, “You ended the threat before disaster could strike. I have a lot of valuable friends staying at that casino. There are also a lot of important people. The past King of Tribil and the man who run the largest asteroid market.”

Jongin’s blood runs cold, hearing him talk about the man from Tribil. Something is going on there and no one knows. Though, if his father is interested in the King from there, he probably does. From how Yixing and Lyra react, it seems like it is anything but good.

After that, a new niceties, the line was cut shortly after. Jongin looks where they were, before turning to Junmyeon. “Father knows. Whatever is happening with Tribil, he knows. I can just tell.”

Minseok, overhearing this, nods, “And we’re going to find out what. Rest. We leave tomorrow. Then we see what is it that Yixing and Lyra know. They’re covering something up at Tribil, and it’s about time we figure out what.”

[authortango]

⛅️👙🎊 for the seasonal writing asks!

(sorry I don’t have the emojis on my computer XD Thank you for the ask!)

What is your MC’s favorite weather and why?

Okay so I have 8 MC’s in my current WIP:

Amelia: Sunny weather, most likely sunny spring weather because it’s a little cool at the same time. Perfect for reading outside. 

Lydia: Also enjoys sunny weather, but preferably in the summer! She loves summer clothes, and outdoor activities like hiking, swimming, or just being outdoors with friends. She also enjoys the free time. 

Skylar: Cloudy/Rainy weather, because of the way it sounds in her house. It’s the perfect white noise to get things done with too.

Victoria: Prefers sunny fall weather! Chilly outside, cute jackets and other accessories, but also fall activities like playing in leaves with her siblings and baking!

Samuel: Warm, sunny spring weather. Likes to fish and have picnics, but he does his best to stay out of the water for the most part, so he doesn’t damage his hearing aids. Will dip his feet in the water but that’s about it.

Cyrus: Also loves fall weather for many of the same reasons Victoria does! He lives in a very rural area as well, so he gets to do a lot of fun outdoor stuff with his siblings as well. He also loves hot apple cider.

Rhys: He’s torn between fall or summer weather, so I would say he prefers that in between time when the seasons transition. Not too hot, not too cold. He enjoys bonfire activities when the nights get chillier around this time.

Spencer: He enjoys rainy days, especially at night. If he’s up late working on a project or just sleeping and it’s raining - perfect weather.

What hobbies do your MC’s enjoy?

So for the most part they all enjoy reading, some more than others. XD Rhys also watches a lot of TV, cause it’s easier for him to focus on. Skylar and Amelia both like to draw, and Amelia and Victoria also like to write. Lydia collects stuff, Cyrus does a lot of fun outdoor activities like horseback riding, Spencer likes to research stuff endlessly sometimes, and Samuel enjoys learning instruments by ear. There are probably more hobbies I could discuss but these are the basics. :)

Any Unique Traditions or Celebrations in my WIP world that my characters celebrate?

So my WIP is a fantasy adventure, and it’s set in the “real world” where the fantasy world is kind of hidden under the surface. I haven’t really gotten into fantasy customs/celebrations yet, but there is an unwritten idea I had where at the school all my characters met at, after like, however many months they had been there, there would be like a halfway celebration just celebrating them making it this far. I may still incorporate it, if not in this book then maybe in later books (yeah I planned a series lol oops). 

I hope this was super interesting for you to read! I love learning more about my own characters this way too. :) Please send more questions if you want!

[theseventhhex]

The Horrors Interview

The Horrors

Photo by Tom Beard

The latest stunning and emphatic fifth album from The Horrors sees the group at their majestic and imperial best. Consisting of ten remarkable and diverse songs, ‘V’ shows the group at the peak of their powers, exhibiting a freedom and sense of exploration that feels truly liberating. Equipped with a bold refusal to stand still, The Horrors continuously take risks knowing it’s a prominent way of being creative if you know what you’re going to be doing each time. Though contrast and uncertainty are foreseeable lyrical ground for a band whose sound has changed so much over the years, each incarnation of the Horrors has felt honest and frank, ‘V’ is no exception… The Seventh Hex talks to Joshua Hayward about a shift in instrumentation, visiting Japan and maths…

TSH: For the band's latest record entitled 'V', how would you sum up the dynamic as each member brought ideas to the table?

Joshua: It was quite hectic and quite hard. It wasn't refreshing, that's for sure. I imagine it's similar to the UN trying to sort things out - people are just vetoing things constantly. This is the reason why we worked with a producer on this record; we'd got to a point where we were second guessing each other too much. There was just a continuous frenzied burst of creativity. Each member was constantly doing something, and if you weren't coming up with an idea or recording an idea, you’d have to get out of the way for someone who was doing so.

TSH: What was it like having Paul Epworth on board to nurture the sound?

Joshua: Paul is a very larger than life figure. He started a rule where you couldn't say no to anything. All in all, it was hugely beneficial to have Paul on board because I feel we needed to work in a different way, as well as it being necessary for us to come up with something new.

TSH: Do you feel your playing has matured in certain ways?

Joshua: Yeah, I guess you can say that. Essentially, I think we've all improved. I'm a lot better than I used to be and basically I'm just trying to make a really loud noise. Maybe this entails growth and maturity, or maybe it's just an understanding of oneself.

TSH: Was there much of a shift with regards to instrumentation?

Joshua: I started using programming, which I'd never done before. I was also using computers to warp things, which was quite fun, endless and vastly valuable. Apart from that, I stuck to just playing guitars. However, there is a lot more modular synth on this record courtesy of Tom and Paul.

TSH: Throughout this diverse record you're pulling from a wide range, drawing from dance, trance and 80s pop genres. Was it key to take risks?

Joshua: Yes, of course, most certainly. We covered everything from ATB to A-ha. It's always important to take risks and try new things.

TSH: With album opener 'Hologram' being originally 25 minutes long, how did you go about trimming it down?

Joshua: We worked on that song every Friday in the studio. Friday was party day and when everyone just had lots of fun. Every time we worked on this track we'd work on it until five in the morning. Each time it got a little bit longer. It actually got to the point where it clocked in at about half an hour. On one Friday Paul decided it should be twice that length, that's when we started chipping it down because we realised things had gone way too far. It was a lot of fun working on that song and I feel we got all of the best bits in the final version.

TSH: Was 'Machine' quite freeform as you fleshed it out?

Joshua: Yes, it was very freeform and organic. Like with most of our songs, we never have the end in sight. That one had quite a dirty and heavy overall feel. I'm very pleased with that song.

TSH: When it came to sequencing was 'Something To Remember Me By' the natural choice as the album closer?

Joshua: Well, this album was really heard to sequence actually. Part of the reason for this was as you said before, the album being very diverse. Originally this song was a lot earlier on, but we decided to put it at the end because it made most sense.

TSH: How do you feel the band's live shows have evolved?

Joshua: We've always just shot from the hip with our live shows and I'm glad that we continue to do so. I don't think we need to overly think our performances through. We like to keep it fun and have a good atmosphere.

TSH: What was it like to tour Tokyo recently?

Joshua: Tokyo was very interesting. We went to Akihabara for the first time, where you can purchase many small components. What I didn't realise was why there were a lot of girls dressed up as maids in a shop that sells scart leads and power cords. It turns out they are actually there to ensnare geeks and take them back to cafes where they hit them with fish while they feed them dressed as manga characters. It was very strange indeed. Everything seemed normal out there until I found this weirder side of town.

TSH: Are you into football as much as Faris and Rhys?

Joshua: No, I don't really like group sports, l prefer the ones that you can do on your own. I mainly do maths in my spare time, it keeps me entertained.

TSH: Do you tend to feel much clarity amidst so much commotion in the world today?

Joshua: I find the world absolutely horrifying. Clarity only seems to lead to pain.

TSH: What's pleased you about your way of working for this current release?

Joshua: It's strange, every time we do a record; it feels more accomplished than the last one. Also, I'm already looking forward to doing the next one. It feels odd that we have a lot of ambition to make another record so quickly. Normally once you finish an album, you're quite knackered by the end of it and you don't want to ever see a studio or an instrument ever again. However, in the wake of this release, we feel quite energised and are ready to write another one quickly, which is a nice thing to take away.

TSH: What defines your personal outlook for future plans with The Horrors?

Joshua: I have innate desire to make music, that's all it is. Above all, it’s important to always like our stuff and keep it interesting. I want to be happy and enjoy our music once it's finished, and I think that's what's driven the constant changes over the years. If we always made the same record, we wouldn't have much of a desire to keep going. When you're in a position whereupon you can create and experiment freely, that's something you want to keep doing.

The Horrors - “Machine”

The Horrors - “Something To Remember Me By ”

V

[handsomegoddamnjackass-blog]

Writer's thing: 2, 4, 7, 8, 15, 16 :D

Aww!! Thanks for sending an ask!! QvQ

2. Favorite part of writing.

The first thing I typed in was: The End. (i’m helpless today XD)

That is not what I really mean though, there is a lot I actually like about writing, even if it makes me scream.

Writing is the best way to put a scene together if you dont wanna do it through drawing. Some things I like the most when they are described, it’s like a movie. It’s great when things work out and all, but I enjoy myself also to start writing without any idea where it’s gonna lead me. The most interesting drafts start to happen then.Two days ago I wrote a short thing about Brick and Mordecai and had a whole scene in my head that I wanted to make happen but the two didn’t let me get there. I got somewhere entirely else and I got to see new sides of them that I havent had considered before.Things like that only happen when you write.

No other process of doing art can do this to you.

4. Do you have writing habits or rituals?

I usually start with solid procrastinating. Then I look at the page and procrastinate a bit more.

I look up some tags on tumblr, scroll through facebook and then I slam my fist down on my computer and decide to make myself some tea.

With some good tea and a hopefully comfortable sitting position i start the writing.

7. Favorite author.

OH MY I DON’T KNOW. (its a shame really, I didn’t even read many real books and I can’t remember half of the names of the authors)

I’ve read a lot of Fanfictions though (haha :DD) (some fanfictions are honestly better than books) So I gotta talk about that I guess.

In the terms of german fanfictions, no one will ever replace the things that Glaskammer did to me. Her fanfiction in the Hetalia Fandom KILLED ME. Like the way she described things hit me so deep in my body, that I got chills through a whole night. I wasn’t aware that you can do such things with the german language.

When we move over to the english fanfictions i have a few more than one. I usually was the one who just loved the fluffy stuff, but I found myself enjoying more and more things that seem realistic. I love drama and I love fighting. I love characters with flaws and I love it when authors make me scream at the scream in agony. And up until now there are three authors that did a pretty solid job on that part.

1. @rhys-thecompanynerd

2. @wilwarindi

3. @lassenby

I hope you guys dont mind the tagging. qvq ♥(i just admire you peeps so much)

8. Favorite trope to write.

I like to stick to the canon and the drama.Haven’t tried much else besides that I think XD (i didn’t write much in my life yet)

15. Where does your inspiration come from?

Pain.I usually get an idea and when the drama is hurting me, I want to write it. XD

16. Where do you take your motivation from?

When I enjoy things I’m motivated. So when I enjoy writing, I am motivated to continue things. Same goes for drawing, even though I dont need much motivation to do that. I can also just scribble  a bit.

But honestly, when I just got scenes in my head that need to get out I’m always motivated to either draw or write.

[helenpowers]

11 Qs Tag: Writer Edition!

Tagged by @muffindragon227

1) How many works in progress to do you currently have?

I have one WIP that I’m actively working on right now, although I may have a second one soon, with a co-author ;)

2) Do you/would you write fan fiction?

I do write small snippets of fanfic when I have something that I really want to happen, but nothing that I post online. I used to write a lot of fanfic when I was in high school.

3) Do you prefer real books or e-books?

I am prefectly happy to read both, but there is nothing better than the feeling of a real book in your hands.

4) When did you start writing?

I’ve been writing for pretty much my entire life, just not seriously. I started writing stories when I was five or six. I continued to write stories throughout elementary and high school, and when I was 18 I started writing seriously, as if I could do it for an actual career.

5) Do you have someone you trust that you share your work with?

I do! I have three people that I send my work to, fairly often. One is @tangledlinescrumpledpaper, the other two are my friends Isa and Rhys. 

6) Where is your favourite place to write?

I do most of my writing at my desk or in the living room, but my favorite place to write is on my porch back home. My mom and dad have an outdoor living set that is ridiculously comfortable, and the porch gets just the right amount of light. It’s probably the place I’m most happy while I’m writing.

7) Favourite childhood book?

When I was really young I loved the Pony Pals series, but my favorite book from my childhood (which I still reread fairly often) is Corranda’s Crown by Lee Edward Fodi.

8) Writing for fun or writing for publication?

Writing for me will always be fun, but I am also aiming towards publication for a lot of my works. I feel blessed to already have something of mine out in the world.

9) Pen and paper or computer?

Computer. I make notes and do some revision stuff with pen and paper, but all of my actual writing happens on the computer. 

10) Have you ever taken any writing classes?

I am literally in the middle of doing a degree in English with a concentration in creative writing, so I have taken quite a few classes at this point.

11) What inspires you to write?

Songs have always been a big one for me, or quotes. Writing prompts are always great, and sometimes lead to something that is much longer than I ever anticipated. There are so many places to draw inspiration from, that honestly I don’t think I could list them all here.

Okay I’m tagging @tangledlinescrumpledpaper @raiswanson and @writebruh

[jixiani]

In defense of fanfiction

I’ve been thinking about fanfiction lately, (really I’ve been thinking that I should really be taking some of this time to write more, but that’s another post) AO3 just had their yearly fundraiser so of course the old discourse over the site and its history was dragged up again and then Sarah had brought it up this morning and well, I have a lot of strong feelings on the subject. Let’s start with a little personal background: I have been reading and writing fanfic since the late 90’s. It started out as something silly my best friend introduced me to and we would sit in her mother’s computer room and giggle over ‘speculative fan fictions’ and participate on months-long roleplay scenarios on chat boards and take turns passing notebooks full of handwritten stories back and forth which were every bit as terrible as you’d think two 14-year-old girls could come up with. Unfortunately, we were in the Vampire Chronicles fandom so we had a front-row seat for the Anne Rice and her lawyer's debacle that will from here on out be referred to as “The Dark Times”. We watched our friends’ work get pulled, our RP sites close down, we feared that we’d get a cease and desist letter, we hid our notebooks and dreamed up our stories exclusively verbally.  I was deeply ashamed of my secret love of fanfic for years. I kept writing, but I kept it secret, I kept reading it but would never admit to it. Fanfiction was something shameful, taboo, some terrible sin akin to watching porn, and not the good socially acceptable kind of porn. But time moved on and fandom moved on and fanfiction started to be more acceptable. I joined Fanfiction.net, I wrote some stuff on Livejournal (although I still kept it set to private). I read A LOT of fanfiction, jumping fandoms, and leaving reviews. People I admired came out as liking and writing fanfiction. Of course, then the purges hit. Strikethrough and the like. I’m not going to get into that here, because that’s a rant all its own. Anyway, those were also some dark days as fandom searched for somewhere to land. I stumbled over Archive of our own a few years ago and I aggressively support them whenever I can because they fight for the fandom. Now I speak out in defense of fanfiction whenever possible. I’ve attended panels at conventions about fanfiction, I support and share posts about it from my favorite authors, I let everyone know that I’m proud of my fanfic (although I still don’t post it, that’s because I tend not to finish things and I don't’ want to get someone excited for something I know I’m going to abandon in a month, not because I’m ashamed.). So let’s talk over some points because Sarah brought up a good point today. Why is fanfiction such a shameful thing in the fandom community, and in the writing community? One of the people on my friends list who I admire and is a professional, published author once rolled their eyes and scoffed when I said that I wanted to go to the fanfiction panel at a convention. Yet, no other facet of fandom is treated this way. I brought this up on Sarah’s post and I’m going to reiterate it here. Fan artists are not scoffed at, people flock to their tables in artist’s alley. Fan-made comics and doujinshi have led to careers writing and drawing comics and scripts for the same series their fanwork was based on. No professional costumer or prop maker sneers at cosplayers, in fact, there are now professional cosplayers. Fans wait in line for hours to watch masquerade skits at conventions. Fan-dubs like Dragonball Z Abridged and Nescaflowne are hugely popular and have led to professional voice acting gigs and production studios. But if an author dares to mention that they got their start in fanfiction? The horror, the outrage, the hate mail. Yet so much of our media could arguably be called fanfiction. Dante’s Inferno? John Milton’s Paradise Lost? The Aeneid? Classics? Yes. Fanfiction? Also yes. Joyce’s Ulysses is just an AU of the Odyssey. Anything written about or based on myths? Anything involving King Arthur? Sherlock Holmes? Shakespear...Oh you can cry adaptation all you want. Let’s face it if it’s written by some old white guy it’s literature and a classic and an innovative reimagining but really it’s just fanfic and it’s everywhere. West Side Story is a fanfic of a fanfic since Shakespeare based Romeo and Juliet off a poem by a similar name. My Fair Lady? Pygmalion AU. Hamilton? Real Person Song Fic! 50 Shades series, Mortal Instruments, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, Jean Rhys' Wide Sargasso Sea, hell there are literally hundreds of published Jane Austen fanfictions. John Gardner’s Grendel is a retelling of Beowolf. The Wiz, Wicked and the rest of Gregory Maguire’s books? The Wizard of Oz doesn’t enter public domain until 2035. The Magnificent Seven? Kurosawa called and he wants his seven samurai back, he’d also like to reclaim Yojimbo from A Fist Full of Dollars. Speaking of tv, how about Black Sails? It’s a fanfiction prequel to Treasure Island. Any comic book not written by the original creator. Any book series based on Star Wars, Star Trek, Dungeons and Dragons, World of Warcraft, etc. I could go on all day. So why is it, when so much of our popular culture consists of what basically boils down to fanfiction, that fanfiction is seen as a shameful indulgence, as “cheating”, as trash?Part of it boils down to sex. Read any article that brings up fanfiction and there will invariably be a line where the author distances themself by saying something along the lines of they don’t personally read it, or how slash fic isn’t their thing but to each their own. (Both quotes from some of the sites I pulled the above list from) A lot of people seem to think that fanfiction is just porn, and while yes there is some fanfiction that is porn and some of it is very good, the same can be said for regular fiction as well. People don’t blush and giggle over Lord of the Rings, yet when I say that I’ve read fanfic that’s longer than Tolkien’s trilogy I may as well be talking about how I read Aragorn/Boromir slash fic regardless of what the actual subject matter was.  Yes, there’s sex in fanfiction. A lot of it is gay sex. You can read Lolita in school but Harry Potter fanfic? Gasp, think of the children! Even if that fanfic happens to be about what if Petunia loved Harry like a son instead of pushing him away and neglecting him. There is some really fantastic fan fiction out there. Some of it has sex, some of it doesn't. Some of it deals with queer characters and experiences, some of it doesn’t. There’s nothing inherently wrong with erotica and it’s an entirely separate issue. Not every fanfiction is a 50 Shades-eque erotic rewrite of Twilight, and even if they were, so what?  A lot of fanfiction has to do with wish fulfillment. You want to know what happens next, or what would happen if this had happened instead, or if there was this character. You want to see someone like you in your favorite fandom. I had wanted to adventure with Bilbo when I was a kid. I wanted to go on adventures and fight and ride dinosaurs. These desires don’t go away just because we grow up. I got into roleplay and larp and gaming because I still enjoy make-believe. I write for a lot of the same reasons. Everyone wants to be the main character. Fanfiction gives you that chance. You can write yourself into a story, you can write someone that’s like you, you can write someone that’s nothing like you but what you want to be. So, let’s discuss our old friend Mary Sue. She gets trotted out as an example every time someone brings up fanfiction (or any uppity female character ever). Mary Sue was born in the 60’s. She is an actual character from a Star Trek Original Series fanfiction. Yes, fanfiction existed in the 60’s. Mary Sue was the brightest and prettiest girl to come out of Starfleet, she managed to be in all the right places at the right times to save the ship and capture the heart of Spock. Self insert fics and Mary Sues are at the heart of why we should be terribly ashamed of our fanfiction habit. Except, what was Luke Skywalker if not George Lucas’ self insert Marty Stu? There are countless male characters that are as bad or worse than your typical Mary sue and they are never called out for it. Seanan brought this up in a post once about her character October Daye, her editor had said that the character was too competent, too cool, and that it was unrealistic and she should tone it down. She had him replace the character’s name with “Harry Dresden” and reread the story and suddenly it was fine. There are a great many articles and essays about our friend Mary Sue and I implore you to read some of them. She is not the enemy we make her out to be. Fanfiction, on the rare occasion that it is accepted, is seen as some sort of training wheels, or baby’s first writing. It’s amateurish, it’s juvenile, it’s just not very good. If we are not ashamed of it, then it’s expected that we are only using it as a starting point to hone our writing and move on to professional published works. It’s either that or something terribly self-indulgent that should be kept to ourselves. Some fanfic writers do go on to become “real” writers. Seanan McGuire has always been very open about how her agent first approached her after reading some of her Buffy/Faith fanfiction. Some “real” writers also write fanfiction. Neil Gaiman won a Hugo for his Chronicles of Narnia Fanfic. Ursula Vernon and Mercedes Lackey write fanfiction in their spare time. Some fanfiction writers never become published authors, not everyone wants to. Some are happy to have a dozen 150k fics about their favorite fandom, or maybe just one 500k epic, some, myself included, may only have one short fic posted somewhere. There is nothing that says that you have to use your hobby to turn a profit. (By the way, for reference, War and Peace is 561,304 words, Dune is 187,240 words, you cannot make the argument that fanfic writers don’t put time into their craft when they have more words than Tolstoy under their belt.)Some of the ‘training wheels’ analogy is true. Fanfic is a terrific gateway to writing. It teaches pacing, plot, character development, how to take criticism. If I ever do write something professionally I will not be nearly as afraid of the red pen as I am of bad reviews. Anonymous readers are the most ruthless critics. May the literary gods preserve you from ever having your fanfic read aloud as an example of how terrible and ‘cringy’ fanfiction can be. There is a lot of fanfiction out there that is written by teenage girls, and it reads like it was written by a teenage girl, but the only way to get better at something is to practice. Fanfiction allows budding writers to do that. There are no rules, no one standing at the gates to bar entry, and entire communities of people willing to give advice and commentary. Sometimes it’s less helpful than harmful, but there is something about posting a new fic and waiting for that first ‘like’ or ‘kudos’ or a review. There’s something to be said for instant gratification. I have read a lot of really terrible fanfic. I have slogged through stuff that would make Mary Sue herself cringe. I have read about the ½ vampire, ½ werewolf, ½ fairy long lost princess. I have read grammar that would make your eyes bleed. Not all of it has been confined to fan works. I have read fanwork that has had me convulsing with silent laughter to the point that I wondered if I would die. Dialog that was ten times better than anything I had read in a professional novel. Fanfiction should not be judged by its worst offenders. We don’t hold Dune to the same standard as Twilight. Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy is not terrible and cringy because 50 Shades of Grey overuses the phrase “Oh my.” There is some absolutely terrible fanfic out there and there is some pretty terrible published fic as well, but we don’t hold that against most novelists, so why do we hold it against fanfiction writers?I guess that brings us to the elephant in the fandom. Sexism. Fanfiction has historically been something written by and for young women and there is nothing more shameful than something liked by a young woman. Boybands? The color pink? Horse Girl books and Sparkly Vampires? Society hates them. We mock them. It is not acceptable to enjoy them. Sound familiar? How many times is something considered cool until a woman decides that she likes it? We as a society hate women and hate the things they enjoy and we hate teenage girls the most. Think of how much people hated selfies and duckface and instagram. How much hate was directed at Britney Spears, One Direction, Taylor Swift and Justin Bieber? Whether it has a basis in something or not, we hate them, we make jokes, we share the memes. We write them off as having no substance, as being stupid, not worth our time. Belittling of teenage girls for their interests and fandoms isn't a new phenomenon. Remember Mary Sue? Not only that, but a lot of fanfiction is gay. Women and gays are still the punchline to a lot of jokes and we can’t ignore that that plays a big part in people’s hatred of fanfiction, even if it’s not on purpose. Fanfiction has always been a bastion for people that couldn’t find stories about them in popular fiction. A lot of mainstream main characters are straight guys. A lot of fanfiction main characters are young women or gay men. Now, I admit that I’m oversimplifying this, and especially in recent years as it is becoming safer for people to come out as other genders and queer and as having mental illness or not being neurotypical, you are seeing more of that reflected in the fanfiction community. I don’t want anyone to think that I am purposefully leaving anyone out of this. The fanfiction community has not always been so great at being inclusive of people of color or transgender, it’s getting better, but I’m not going to stand here and pretend we’ve always been perfect. In the last several years I’ve seen a lot more inclusion. As I said, fanfiction has always been a home to the “Other”, as that expands to include more individuals so too does the community. Fanfics provide us with a place to work through issues and present perspectives that we don’t get to see anywhere else, without having to create an entire world from scratch. It’s accessible to everyone. I’ve spent the better part of an afternoon researching and writing this. I hope that I was at least partially coherent and I got you to at least take a look at why you feel the way you feel about fanfiction. I’m not sure if I exactly got across the points I was trying for, there’s a lot more eloquent, well thought out arguments out there from more knowledgeable people. Check out Seanan McGuire, she’s got a lot to say on the subject.