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baeddel · 22 days ago

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tirade on pirating software. 1.7k words.

i recently read a post by someone who is anti-piracy (better: against making copies of software). they said that if you can't afford something you should wait for a sale or find a free alternative. and then they said that the only time that they find piracy (better: finding a copy online) acceptable is for games that are so old that you cannot buy them from a licensed vendor, but only from resellers, because in that case the developer doesn't get the money anyway.

i feel like i could make a sort of loophole argument in this framework, which is that i can watch ebay until the game is listed by a reseller, and then pirate it, because i'm no longer making a choice between paying the developer or not paying, but paying a reseller and not paying, and i've decided not paying a reseller is morally permissable.

but i think it can go a little further. they specified developer. i should pay the developer. even though i don't buy directly from the developer, but a licensed vendor. but the vendor's surcharge is not worth bringing up.

this is because we don't believe in following the law, exactly, and thus you should follow all copyright laws for that reason. it's because of, usually, one of two reasons: developers deserve to be compensated, or that we have a moral obligation to support the developer.

on the first view, the "just deserts argument", it's not clear to me that the moral obligation to not pirate is watertight in this case (when i said "pirate" before, i made a silly gesture, meant to indicate that i'll say that for brevity, but am not acquiescing). a developer deserves to be compensated for their work; but what do they deserve exactly?

does every developer deserve to become as rich from their game as Notch, and every time they don't there's been an injustice? you probably don't think that.

do they deserve some particular amount that we would say is 'fair'?—it isn't unjust if they do better (although you might think so, and complain about how much of the spotlight they take up compared to others just as deserving), but we only require that much success of them. this might be dependent on the kind of game that it is, for example, a better game deserves more success. if that's the case, then we've exonerated at least some pirates; so long as the developer is as successful on the market as they deserve to be, we've done nothing wrong.

you might say that it's wrong to pirate games that haven't yet reached the threshold of just success, because you place them in jeoprady of never achieving the success they deserve. further, you might say that this threshold is epistemologically unknowable to human beings (see: click), and therefore in practice you can never justify piracy, because you never know if a game has reached the threshold of justice. pirates, therefore, gamble with justice, and only Minos will pay their winnings.

i think this would be a good argument, except that i don't understand why i, as someone who wants to download a copy of the game, am the one who bears the moral responsibility. if the success of this developer is a matter of justice, then surely we all bear that responsibility, even people who don't play videogames. therefore we should all purchase and promote every game, and so forth.

this isn't what any anti-piracy advocate believes, even if they seem to take a deserts line. instead they restrict our obligations to participating in ordinary market mechanisms. the game is being sold as a commodity; therefore people should buy that commodity from a point of sale apporved by the producer, and so forth. it's taken for granted that the anarchy of the market is the right way to guarantee justice, and other possibilities are never explored. ultimately, the deserts argument naturalizes capitalist relations. once you remove these blinders, the mechanism for delivering justice it actually proposes seems obviously unreliable and unsatisfactory (in fact, i believe this criticism applies to all deserts arguments).

here i will quickly add my complaint against the second argument, that we should support the developer. the argument runs: if you like a developer, you should support their work by purchasing their products. i am a lot more sympathetic to this argument and so i won't spend much of the post attacking it. it's enough to say that it suffers from the same problem we just mentioned: why is participating in ordinary market mechanisms the best way to support the developer? capitalism is likewise naturalized by this case when it is advanced as a moral argument against piracy. therefore we can run the same argument: if we have a moral obligation to support game developers, then it's not clear to me why only potential players have that obligation, and so forth (but this time the criticism doesn't apply to all similar arguments, just this one).

however, it often isn't advanced that way, and as a pragmatic argument i tend to agree with it. in fact sometimes they actually have a case for participating in normal market mechanisms: DMC fans want you to buy DMC games because then Capcom will look at their sales figures and decide it's worth making another game. you could argue that they still have capitalist blinkers on because they only advocate you buy one copy, the one you'll play, which is how the game is sold. maybe they should be asking you to buy a hundred copies or whatever. but we don't want them to do that, LOL. and the feeling is usually that there are limits of what you can ask out of someone; when one DMC youtuber was spending quadruple digits on a DMC-themed gacha, his viewers expressed concern and encouraged him to stop. so cheers to DMC players.

in fact, there might be ethical reasons to only ask someone to purchase a copy of something in the normal way: when i try to get you to buy one of Xraftstar / Charity / Porpentine's games, i am doing it because i personally want my friend to succeed, and i want to see their art recognized. this is a kind of moral motivation, but it's the morality of rendering personal obligations; you are not likewise obligated. however, i of course feel there are limits on what i can ask of you, and so, unlike when i make donation posts for my friends who are struggling, i'm only comfortable encouraging you to purchase a copy of something i think will actually render a use-value to you (even if you could still obtain it in other ways and get the same use-value).

but anyway, why specify the developer in the first place? the work put in by the publisher, the developers and maintainers of the platform its sold on, the bandwidth of the payment processor, and so forth, all get left out of the question, even though they are all more or less necessary parts of the normal market mechanisms we're encouraging you to participate in.

i think it's obvious that the anti-piracy advocate of this kind doesn't actually want to advocate for participation in the market economy, like Bush during the recession. they want to be just by the developer because they see the developer as a fellow individual like themselves; they actually want to cut through the market alienation and simply do right by another person. therefore all of the other capitalists who make money off the sale—publisher, platform, payment processor—are just more big companies, perhaps even leeches we'd be better off without.

it's funny, because historically this view was used to support piracy when it came to music. you used to see a lot of charts like this:

how much of a CD goes to the label, manufacturers and distributors, to show how little really goes to an artist, to shut down people who said you should buy the CD to support them. there's a sort of naive anarchism underlying this: i want to help the individual who made the music i love, who needs manufacturers and distributors anyway?

in this kind of simple moral reasoning, resellers really get shafted. they're seen as scalpers, taking money without producing any value. no one says: 'make sure to support resellers!' thus we never ask who the individual behind all of the market alienation the resller is. whoever they are they don't deserve the money. then, when you are poor and struggling, and cannot afford to buy things for yourself, what do people tell you to do? sell your games, CDs...

but i don't want to be too sarcastic here, because there is nothing funny about this impulse to reach through market alienation and connect morally with another individual. it is the essence of emancipation. but hear my argument: purchasing commodities from them is an unsatisfactory way to realize it. it's true that you can certainly help someone by buying what they sell; many of us rely on this to a greater or lesser extent, and, pragmatically, i hope we'll all buy Nadia Nova's next game and put food in her belly. but systematically, not in this or that case, but as a general moral principle, the commodity form, the exchange of cash for things or copies of things—this is the very thing that reproduces these conditions of alienation in the first place. and these relations—their predictability as a feature of the market, or even their scarcity as a part of a volatile and impermanent system—is what habitually places the developer in a condition of alienation from their labour, coaxing them to give up their so-called intellectual "property", then forbidding them from using the games they made; or by seducing them into placing their music on a platform, then offering them increasingly small margins and less control; or to post their content (qua sex workers) on a paywall platform, which then imposes complex payout structures to keep them from claiming their earnings. and so forth. the desire to reach through all of the noise and support the individual is inevitably captured, redirected, and fed upon in as many ways as it can be, until the whole thing crashes down and the cycle starts again.

therefore, should you purchase or pirate the next game you want to play? Remember Ptahhotep: "The noble who sitteth before food divideth it as his soul moveth him; he giveth unto him that he would favour."

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caffeinatedvigilantewriter · 3 months ago

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This one’s a long, but a favorite.

Jumaji inspired

Serious Chaos

So GIW has managed to get a hold of Technus’s new project. A project centered on video games.

Technus’s plan was to trap Phantom in a video game.

The game would take place in the ghost zone, and you’d have to fight different ghosts to defeat each level. The levels get more difficult as you go on. You can stop to grab ecto-dejecto to increase your health.

Anyway, the GIW got their hands on it and tested the game on the ghost scums.

Dani (Elle, 16), Danny (19), Jordan (Dan 27) and Jazz (22) (she became ver liminal due to ecto exposure) were meeting up in Amity Park when the got ambushed and sucked into…. a video game?

The GIW plays the game to test and realize that it’s actually pretty fun. And they need more funding after Vlad Masters didn’t renew the contract (something about his godchildren and daughter going missing?)

So the mass produced and sold the game.

It is an instant hit.

Now the other copies are actual programs characters and sorts, but the OG copy got lost and ended up in the shipments or games going to Gotham.

It was Wayne Famiky game night, and they all decided to play the four player game that came out last month. It was called The Ghost Zone.

They read reviews and description of the game and through it would be fun

(The Ghost Zone is a dangerous place, but with the help of your great, you might manage to make it out alive! You have four characters to choose from: Dr Jazz Phantom a brilliant psychologist. Danny Phantom, astromancy expert. Dante Phantom the ghost engineer and Elle Phantom, the teen explorer and ghost expert!)

None of the Waynes had played the game before, but they turned it and everything seemed normal. Duke played as Danny, Dick am played as Elle, Steph played as Jazz, and Tim played as Dante.

None of them could make it past level 5 without dying, so they handed the controllers over to Cass, Damian, Jason and Barbara.

But the moment Damian (17) and Jason (27) (changing the ages here) touched the controllers to pick their characters, they vanished.

There were two new characters on the screen, along with two frozen avatars.

Jason Todd: gun expert and literature nerd.

Damian Al Ghul: swordsman and animal whisperer

(Damian and Jason are the most liminal, and this is the OG copy of the game and it mistook them as ghost and sucked them in.)

Jason and Damian had been sucked into a video game.

Now, they have to survive the ghost zone until the Bats can get them out. They also learned that the 4 ‘characters’ are actually real people.

They were ghosts, ghosts were real. And they got sucked into a video game. For an odd reason, they had their swords and guns.

The bats are freaking out. They watched two of their members get sucked into a video can that was known for being impossible to beat.

Like I mentioned, this was the OG copy, so the characters (I’m gonna start calling the video game characters ‘characters’ and the players ‘players’) have some control over what they can ‘say’.

They can change the character dialogue to give clues and hints.

But when it comes to actual gameplay, they are mostly at the mercy of the controller, with a few exceptions.

But considering none of the hero’s exactly have enough time to learn the game and master it in a short amount of time, (except Tim (he watched Bernard played extensively) they are forced to call the worlds best players.

Tucker Foley, Samantha Manson, Valerie Grey and and Wes Weston immediately knew that the characters in the video game were their classmates. It was obvious once you saw the signs. And Technus came to them the moment he realized he messed up.

Considering they all live in Amity, the ecto in the air is bringing out the OG programming, so snippets of the characters actual conversation pop up on screen for a moment before glitching back to its programmed sentences.

Unfortunately, Sam and Wes didn’t have the video game experience that Tucker did, so it was up to him to try to beat the game, hoping it would bring his fiends back. He mastered the game up to level 20 out of 25, but never made it past that point.

Suddenly he was asked to come to the Hall of Justice to play video games for The Justice Leauge.

Valerie and Sam came with him, and they realized why they were asked to come.

This was the copy that Dan, Dani, Dan and Jazz got sucked in.

Shenanigan ideas

-characters drops codes and hints about ghosts and the GIW in the character dialogue

- Tucker logs in with his name and the Bats deciphered a code that translated to ‘Tckrs playng!!!’

-since Dani is the ghost expert in the game, she’s very overcoming by stress and lashes out at Damian, who ends up not liking her (he actually loves people who could bend him in half, it’s a Wayne Family Trait) (totally serious chaos) (reluctant partners to lovers)

-SPECIAL POWERS

• Dan can collect scrap junk and create weapons out of them. The long he collects, the more dangerous the weapon

• Jazz can stun the ghost with a few words in ghost speak, but will need ecto-dejecto to heal her damaged vocal cords (and because she’s liminal and not a halfa)

• Danny can summon a previously defeated ghost if he’s at full power, but when he does he’s then extremely weakened. He also has a spell books of smaller spells that he can use when the stars align

• Dani can talk to the ghost in their native language when they were alive and clam them down temporarily. She can also read maps of the GZ easier than the others.

•Jason can speak ghost speak easier, and is the only one that can read it casual. Can also wield any type of gun

•Damian can speak to the ghost animals and get their help on special occasions, but will need an ecto-dejecto boost after

- the ghosts they have to fight are imitations of the the rouge gallery

- Sam and Wes creating a true crime podcast. Which gains views, and they talk about the missing Fentons. It gains traction online and people realize that the characters in the game look alike, have the same hobbies and interest, and the same names. The GIW is suddenly under scrutiny

-can someone PLEASE make trading cards of the characters and the ghosts!?!!? :DDD

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anim-ttrpgs · 21 days ago

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i'm not going to get into it in your inbox but i've been dealing with some worsening chronic pain this year and the way eureka goes about this stuff (both grievous wounds/literally and monsters/metaphorically) is nice to read. thanks

all the snoops are sooooo cute. i was going to try and name a favorite here but i genuinely can't i love them all. what delightful little creatures

Thank you! Chronic pain is one of the things that I myself suffer from too, since (topically) my medical insurance refused to cover any treatment besides some X-rays and two chiropracty sessions after I got hit by a car going about 60mph. I’m very lucky that I can still walk and even do some martial arts when what’s left of my upper back allows.

One of the reasons that the Grievous Wound mechanic in Eureka is the way it is is because I wanted to represent how humans are both very fragile and very resilient. An injury much less severe than what i went through can make a person’s body never quite as strong/fast/coordinated as it used to be, but also most things in life do not necessitate a person to be at the very peak of their physical potential, not even investigating mysteries.

Also thank you about the snoops! There are some I like more than others, but I really can’t pick a favorite either.

Elegantly designed and thoroughly playtested, Eureka represents the culmination of three years of near-daily work from our team, as well as a lot of our own money. If you’re just now reading this and learning about Eureka for the first time, you missed the crowdfunding window unfortunately, but you can still check out the public beta on itch.io to learn more about what Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy actually is, as that is where we have all the fancy art assets, the animated trailer, links to video reviews by podcasts and youtubers, etc.!

You can also follow updates on our Kickstarter page where we post regular updates on the status of our progress finishing the game and getting it ready for final release.

Beta Copies through the Patreon

If you want more, you can download regularly updated playable beta versions of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy earlier, plus extra content such as adventure modules by subscribing to our Patreon at the $5 tier or higher. Subscribing to our patreon also grants you access to our patreon discord server where you can talk to us directly and offer valuable feedback on our progress and projects.

The A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club

If you would like to meet the A.N.I.M. team and even have a chance to play Eureka with us, you can join the A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club discord server. It’s also just a great place to talk and discuss TTRPGs, so there is no schedule obligation, but the main purpose of it is to nominate, vote on, then read, discuss, and play different indie TTRPGs. We put playgroups together based on scheduling compatibility, so it’s all extremely flexible. This is a free discord server, separate from our patreon exclusive one. https://discord.gg/7jdP8FBPes

Other Stuff

We also have a ko-fi and merchandise if you just wanna give us more money for any reason.

We hope to see you there, and that you will help our dreams come true and launch our careers as indie TTRPG developers with a bang by getting us to our base goal and blowing those stretch goals out of the water, and fight back against WotC's monopoly on the entire hobby. Wish us luck.

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laudanine · 6 months ago

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How to make a back-patch: Hancock edition

Hey guys! So the tutorial for the Hancock patch is here! So the standing rule on this patch is "you can use my art and make your own, but you are not permitted to make money off it." But man, make your own, go nuts!

Steps 1 to 5 are mostly about how I made the image itself. Steps 6 to 9 are about making a patch once you have your final image. Skip ahead if you need!

So here's the supplies I personally use for these patches -

Tulip fabric paint, black and white

Talc powder

Charcoal powder

Tracing paper

Paintbrush

Fine-tip squeeze bottles

Fabric

My computer

Tape

A thumbtack

A pencil

And to be clear, these are NOT the only options. I've done this with black or white acrylic paint instead of fabric paint, it works fine. If you don't want to bother with the squeeze bottles you can use a paintbrush instead. If you don't have talc powder, cornstarch would work. If you can't find powdered charcoal, you can crush some up like I did, or use graphite, or literally whatever. You get the idea.

If you're going to be using the fine-tip squeeze bottles, now is the time to put your paint (fabric or acrylic) into the bottles and thin them with water to your level of comfort. You WILL need to test the paint on some fabric first, to be sure you can apply it evenly and that it flows well. If you're going to use acrylics, I highly suggest you add a drop of retardant to the mix ALONG with water.

2. I find my images for the figure I'm drawing. Yes, we're tracing: this ain't fine art and we're not gonna be snobs. Here we have John Hancock from the game and John Hancock IRL Danny Shorago.

3. I trace my images! You may notice my two reference images are the same pose! I'm gonna trace the first one by taping my paper over my computer screen and drawing LIGHTLY.

When I had the basics for Danny's proportions down, I left the paper where it was and moved the image of Hancock underneath the paper and traced what I needed from that image. That gets me this double-layer image.

4. I decide which of these lines I want to keep. Even with the faces for John and Danny lined up proportionally the shoulders and neck length of the two figures are pretty different. I decided that I wanted to go with narrower shoulders, and free-handed in the ruffles for his shirt.

5. Now I merge the two faces. I have to get the skin texture from John onto the face I have, which is mostly Danny. I kept up a whole screen of reference images for this process so I could decide what I wanted to pull from where.

And I leaned hard into the skull for his cheekbones and nose. You can see I actually used a colored pencil to outline those skull-like elements before I chose my final lines, and used another piece of my own darn art to add a chin scar I just really like. It is NOT a bad idea to trace a SECOND COPY of this image AT THIS TIME. Your image will be getting really dirty and messed up in the future, so unless you want to start over, you should make a spare copy (spoiler: I didn't do that and had to do this whole thing a second time to make a second patch...)

6. Align your fabric and your tracing paper up and tape first the fabric down THEN the paper on top, separately.

7. Poke holes! Use your thumbtack to poke holes along the lines you're trying to transfer. The way I'm doing this patch most of the image is white lines on black fabric, with SOME black lines on white for his face, neck, and shirt. For that reason, my transfer process is gonna be in TWO parts, one to lay down the white portions and then later to put the black lines ON TOP of the white areas as needed. I don't have a photo for this step: poke holes, you know how to do that.

8. Apply talc/powder to the image and use a paintbrush to gently brush the talc over the surface. You can use the brush perpendicular to the surface to GENTLY push the powder into the holes from the thumbtack holes.

9. Peel off the paper GENTLY. As you can see, I didn't even poke holes for the lines in his face, just the outlines for what's going to be painted in white. What you have is a little connect-the-dots to apply white paint to.

10. Apply white paint and allow to DRY COMPLETELY.

11. Once the white paint it TOTALLY DRY you're going to repeat steps 7 to 9, poking holes in the locations that you want to have BLACK lines appear. For me that's the details on his face and shirt. Instead of talc, the powder I used was crushed vine charcoal. You can see I'm starting to apply the black paint along the lines of black spots of charcoal.

12. Add, like, words and stuff! Also clean up, and fine tune, etc. You did awesome, and if it didn't turn out, well you DEFINITELY made a spare copy like I suggested you do in step 5, right?!?! Right.

Some notes:

This process also works on tee shirts if you want, but definitely use the fabric paint and not acrylics or the paint will flake off when you wash the clothing. Instead of taping the shirt down, I suggest you thumbtack it to a board or to some thick cardboard to keep it still while you work.

If you don't have a computer/screen you can trace on then print the images you want to work with and tape them to a window to use as alight-box.

You don't need to use the charcoal, honestly. If the design is simple or you're feeling like a BAMF, you can skip the black paint and the black powder and just use the negative space of the black fabric instead.

Tracing, and I cannot say this clearly enough, is not cheating when you're not tracing someone else's art. Trace a face. Trace a figure. Trace a landscape. I don't care. If you're tracing any image, you're going to need to do a lot of work to make your shitty traced image (my step 3) into something that looks like art (my step 5). That act of work, that's making art. Congratulations.

If you made it this far and REALLY want to donate money to me over this, don't! Maybe donate to the Palestine Children's Relief Fund instead at pcrf.net because that'd be SUPER cool.

Hope some or all of this helped someone somewhere be a cool punk badass like everyone's favorite Mayor.

#punk diy #patches #diy projects #fallout 4 #john hancock #my art #laud's art #how to

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chongoblog · 10 months ago

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My First Pokemon Playthrough

So I've noticed in my time of talking about Pokemon, I've told a lot of various anecdotes that are all a part of my very first time playing Pokemon. I was feeling nostalgic, so I figured I would share what I remember about this playthrough for everyone to enjoy. There may be a tangent or two in there and people who have followed me a while may have heard these before, but hey.

For context, I believe I was about 8 years old at the time, and after collecting some Pokemon cards, watching a kid play Crystal at summer camp, watching some of the anime, and generally being a pretty big fan (I even have Pokemon Yahtzee burned into my memory for some reason...), I finally got myself a Game Boy Advance with Super Mario Advance 2: Super Mario World, some Frogger game (after looking it up, it was Temple of the Frog), Tony Hawk Pro Skater 2, and, of course, Pokemon Sapphire.

I remember that my starter was Torchic. I don't remember why I chose that one, although I remember really liking the color red at the time (which I still do), so that was probably why.

I don't remember too much about my team or the general progress I made in most of the game, but I do remember Slateport City. For those who do not recall, in Slateport City in order to advance you need to get into the museum, which is blocked off by Team Aqua Grunts until you talk to someone in the shipyard. There are also Team Aqua grunts blocking the route ahead

Now, my 8 year old brain for some reason concluded that the only way to get past the Team Aqua Grunts was to intimidate them with a high enough level Pokemon or something like that. So one night, while I was supposed to be asleep on a family beach vacation, I beat down more poor level 13 Pokemon than I could count. I learned later what I was actually SUPPOSED to do, which led to me finally fighting the Team Aqua Grunts.....with a level 42 Blaziken.

And since the Name Rater was in Slateport City and my starter had evolved, I figured it was only appropriate to give him the new moniker "MAGMA MAN"

The rest of the playthrough went about as normally as tearing through the game with mostly Blaziken normally would go. There were a couple exceptions though. First off, at the Weather Institute, after I saved the day from Team Aqua, they were kind enough to gift me a Castform, but my party was full, so I couldn't get it. My 8 year old self did not read this. (Remember this, it will come back later). But I managed to make my way through the game, catching Kyogre with my Master Ball and giving it the nickname "LEGENDARY"

Then we come to the Elite Four where I hit a brick wall. I don't remember my team at the time exactly, but I do remember it was MAGMA MAN which had reached about level 80 or so, LEGENDARY which was about level 48, a level 36 Pelipper, two level ~35 Tentacruels, and some other sixth Pokemon I don't recall. And for some reason, I just couldn't beat the Elite Four with this team for some weird reason. The best I could ever get to was Drake. I felt I was utterly defeated.

That's when we bring a new character into the story. A member of my friend group at the time who we'll call "John" to protect the innocent. Now John had a very "uncle who works at nintendo" type energy to him. The group used to play Gauntlet: Dark Legacy together all the time, and when I got the GBA port of it, he convinced me to trade my recently obtained copy of the Pokemon Trading Card Game Boy game for a Gameboy-Gamecube cables, only for me to learn too late that it didn't work like that, and from there, there were no backsies (but then I got ahold of a copy of Pac-Man VS and Four Swords Adventure then I learned to emulate, so who's laughing now).

Anyway, John saw that I was struggling and he decided that he wanted to help me out. You see, he had come across an incredibly powerful and rare Pokemon that couldn't be found in the wild. He had gotten it exclusive, and I had never seen it before. It was called a "Castform". Now John had Ruby version, so he decided that as much as it ached him to part with it, he figured it would be a reasonable trade to trade this powerful Castform for the slightly less powerful LEGENDARY. I agreed.

And then he moved to Ohio.

To this day, Castform is my least favorite Pokemon because of this betrayal. I was so distraught at 8 years old that I completely restarted my game of Pokemon Sapphire. I don't remember much about that second playthrough, but there's a reason why.

This rival battle on Route 110 is somewhat infamous for being quite the sudden difficulty spike. And since I knew how to get past Team Aqua now, I didn't have an over-leveled starter to stomp my rival with ease. After losing to her about five or so times, I got frustrated and figured that whatever team I had wasn't cutting it. So I restarted again.

In my third playthrough, I made it all the way to the rival battle on Route 110. Then she stomped me repeatedly. So I restarted again.

This cycle would go on for, like, 15 resets. I didn't count, but it felt like there was hundreds. As I would keep on resetting and playing through the early-game of Pokemon Sapphire (which I had practically memorized at this point), I would start to take things a lot less seriously, sometimes picking the girl character, making my name random gibberish, etc.

Eventually, on one of these playthroughs where I started with Treecko, I actually managed to beat the Route 110 Rival Battle! And on my first try too! And thus began the epic journey of a girl named DE.

Now, I'd figured at this point that maybe only leveling up one Pokemon wasn't the best approach, so I was trying to balance my teams a bit better (I guess my rival taught me something). I was making my way through the game, and one day I'm checking out my best friend's Pokemon in Ruby, and who do I see in his box, but a Kyogre. I take a look at his name, and I can't believe it. It was LEGENDARY. John had traded it to my friend before he moved.

My friend didn't know that it was originally mine, so he offered to trade it back, which I accepted. LEGENDARY was a disobedient little bastard since I didn't have enough badges, but he got the job done. I don't remember the team I ended up using to finally beat the Elite Four, but it included my Sceptile starter, a Sableye that somehow knew only Fighting-type moves, and two Kyogres, LEGENDARY and LEGENDARY2.

And that's my first playthrough of Pokemon Sapphire. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it.

#pokemon #now that im done typing this all out a minor addendum #the sableye was from my emerald playthrough #because his moveset was Brick Break Focus Punch Detect and Dynamicpunch #And Dynamicpunch was only teachable through a tutor in emerald #anyway yay story time

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lynzishell · 3 months ago

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The Past 💛 Atlas

I’m at my desk trying to focus on writing code for our game, but it’s slow going. Distracted by my own thoughts, I find myself staring out the window in front of me more often than not while my fingers rest on the keyboard. Ash sits patient and unbothered on my bed, playing on my Switch while he waits for me to finish.

We’re quieter today than usual, both of us tired and mildly hungover from the night before, but still determined to make some progress today.

I try my best to clear my mind, to focus on the screen in front of me and listen to the music coming from my Lin-Z speaker, quietly singing along and bouncing my leg anxiously to the beat. Every once in a while, Ash chimes in, singing a line or two along with me, and I realize how often I make him put up with my playlist even though he much prefers his own. But I have a specific one that helps me when I work, so he usually doesn’t protest too much.

As I sing the lyrics to Your Silent Face for about the thousandth time in my life, and still never tiring of it, I hear Ash join me in singing the last line, “You’ve caught me at a bad time. So, why don’t you piss off,” and we both chuckle under our breath. Over time it’s become a joke between us, ever since the day he walked up to me at work to invite me out for a drink and caught me singing the line aloud.

I think about that night at the bar often. Sitting in the dark corner, like we were in our own world, nothing in the universe existing but the two of us, talking until the bar closed. I remember how disappointed I was when we were eventually forced to leave, how nervous I was as we stood on the edge of the sidewalk. And I’ll never forget the first time that I kissed him.

I can’t help but wonder where we’d be now if I’d let things continue, if I hadn’t gotten in my head and panicked, if I hadn’t pushed him away. And I want nothing more than to set things right.

As he sits behind me on my bed, I can’t stop thinking about the last time he was there and the words he said to me. I wish I’d handled it differently. I want to take it all back. To tell him he was right. But I don’t know how. Ash is the easiest person in the world to talk to, and yet, every time I think of opening my mouth to say anything I have a deep sense of dread that it will come out all wrong, that I’ll somehow make everything worse by doing so.

“I have a question.” The sound of Ash’s voice breaks through my thoughts, and I stop typing, suddenly nervous, though I’m not sure why.

“What’s up?”

“The whole I-don’t-date-people-I-work-with thing, is that for real? Or is it your way of letting me down gently?”

I’m a bit confused by his question. Could he really think I’m not into him and just saying that to spare his feelings? “No, I meant it.”

“Why? What’s the big deal?”

I get up from my desk and walk over to join him on the bed as I think about how to answer. I hate that I suddenly feel the need to defend an argument that I don’t fully believe, but what else am I supposed to do? Say never mind, I was full of shit? Or actually I’ve changed my mind, let’s forget about it. I can’t do that. So, I give a reason, and secretly hope he makes a solid rebuttal that will give me the opening I need to take it back, “It’s messy,” I say, “Like, if we get in a fight or break up, and still have to work together, it’s just—”

“Messy?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay...” he stands and walks over to my bookshelf, looking over it like he’s suddenly very interested in my old worn-out copies of Tolkien books. I have a tendency to reread the same books, the same way I listen to the same songs over and over. I suppose I find comfort in the familiar. Maybe even more so than most. I’m tempted to make a comment about it, but I know Ash well enough by now to know that he’s not interested in the books, that he’s thinking carefully about what he wants to say next, so I wait. Eventually, he turns back to me, “So, if we didn’t work together…?”

“Then, it’d be different.”

The corner of his mouth pulls up into a smirk as he walks over. He doesn’t stop until he’s standing right in front of me, his legs between mine. He tilts his head to the side curiously, “Different how? Show me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s pretend for, say, five minutes, that we don’t work together.” He leans forward, bringing his hand up to my cheek, his face mere inches from mine, the spices from the chai tea he drank on his way over still lingering on this breath, and I feel a rush of heat fill my face and neck as if the very nearness of him has set me alight.

“Five minutes?”

“Mhm,” he grins, “Five minutes. What would you do differently?” His eyes take on that playful glimmer that makes my heart race. I know that look. He knows I know that look. And it all goes to my head until all I can think about is pulling him back onto the bed with me.

“Set a timer.”

He smiles as he pulls his phone from his pocket, the warmth of his hand still lingering on my cheek as he slides his thumb over the screen before turning it around to show me it’s set for exactly 05:00. “Starting… now,” he presses the green button and tosses it onto the bed.

I waste no time, reaching for him as soon as the phone leaves his hand, and pulling him with me as I lie back. He falls on top of me with a startled laugh.

I don’t have the luxury of taking things slowly, of savoring each second the way I normally would. Instead, I roll him over and kiss him fiercely. Our legs intertwine, and I hold him as close to me as I can, wishing we’d had time to remove our clothes so I could feel his skin against mine.

Our kisses become deep and passionate, and I start to resent the timer counting down, my awareness of it preventing me from fully giving in to the moment. I’m tempted to reach over and turn it off, but I can’t do that, so instead I move my lips to his jaw, following the path of his birthmark and burying my face in his neck wishing I could pause time through sheer will alone.

And then the timer goes off. A series of loud beeps brings the room back into focus, and we pull away, breathless and laughing.

“Time’s up,” I say as I prop myself up on my elbow.

“Damn. I should’ve gone for an hour.”

“That would’ve been dangerous.”

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Guess you’ll never know,” I laugh as he pushes me away playfully so he can get to his phone, still beeping behind us.

The sounds of Blue Monday coming from the speaker take the place of the alarm as he shuts it off and slides the phone back into his pocket. “Okay, well,” he looks over at me, “you’ve convinced me.”

Convinced him? I suddenly feel as though I’ve missed something along the way. “Convinced you of what?”

“I’ll put in my notice on Monday.”

Everything inside me halts. My heart, my breath, every cell in my body stopping in their tracks. “You’re not serious.”

He shrugs as though what he’s saying is no big deal, “Why not? It’s just a job. I’ll find another one. Question is, is that enough? Or are you gonna make me wait the two weeks until I’m actually gone?”

My body restarts again, overcorrecting and going into overdrive, panicking at the idea of him leaving, of not seeing him every day. Getting coffee, going for walks, eating lunch, telling stupid inside jokes over IM and hearing him laugh from across the room… all of it… ending. “I… I don’t want you to quit.”

“Well, if you won’t let me be both, then I choose boyfriend over co-worker.”

“Wh- boyfriend?” A fresh wave of anxiety pours over me at the word. I mean, I get it, we’re obviously not just friends, I don’t think we ever have been, and we’re clearly incapable of being casual, at least with each other, so boyfriend makes sense, but hearing him say the word only reminds me of how incompetent and inexperienced I am when it comes to real relationships.

“Or am I just a piece of ass?”

“What?! No, of course not, it’s not like that.”

“What’s the problem then?”

I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out. I have no idea what I’m supposed to say. My head spins, scrambling to come up with something... I can’t let him quit his job just to be with me. It’s too much. And I don’t want to not work with him. But I can’t tell him I want him to stay and be with me. Not after all the time I’ve spent insisting he can’t. Even if I could, I have no idea how to be his boyfriend. Not for real. But isn’t this exactly what I wanted?

I have to find a way to talk to him, but the longer I stay silent, the harder it is to find the words as they get crowded out by the growing chaos of conflicting thoughts swirling around my head like an out-of-control Tilt-A-Whirl.

Next to me, I feel his shoulders slump, and I know I’ve let him down… again. “Right.” He says this as if my silence has told him everything he needs to know. “I can’t keep doing this with you, Atlas," he sighs, "I’m tired of the mixed signals. I wish you could just be honest with me. When you're ready to do that, let me know. But I’m not going to wait around much longer. I can’t.”

I reach for him as he gets up to leave, “Ash, wait.”

But he shrugs me off, “Nah,” and continues out the door.

Once he’s gone, I lie down on the bed wondering how the hell I’ve managed to fuck this up yet again.

Maybe it was stupid of me to think I could do things differently.

And, if that’s the case, maybe it’s time I let him go.

As this realization sinks in, I feel my heart start to break, slowly at first, small fissures splintering, then shattering all at once as I stare silently at the floor, my throat tightening as my body tries desperately to remember how to cry, to give some kind of cathartic release for the pain. But, just like me, it fails yet again.

Prev // Deja vu // Next

#ts4 #ts4 simblr #ts4 story #sims 4 #sims 4 storytelling #sims 4 challenge #starsignchallenge #starsignlegacychallenge #gen1 aries #aries pt4 #past #atlas stephens #asher goode

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ohsohoney · 6 months ago

Text

When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part Three

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: Ah this took ages to write but I actually really loved it- finally they meet!! Hopefully I got a few things about Detroit right too but I don't live there so lemme know if not! Also I appreciate all the love the last two parts have gotten, means a lot!

Warnings: Some heavier topics surrounding a rough childhood and abuse of substances.

Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2 || Em’s daughters are renamed here because it felt weird not to and also have different ages– doesn’t affect the story much but just a warning! Rosie's nickname is also Z:)

Masterlist

It was far too early to be up. Especially after the night I’d just had, tossing and turning until I’d eventually passed out from sheer exhaustion. Something I hadn’t quite anticipated after my call with Em, but sleep had seemed near enough impossible once I’d hung up. No real reason as to why, simply that my mind had gone from a dull sluggish buzz to over-fucking-load in a mere matter of seconds.

Thankfully I had a flight to catch which meant that, even though I looked like my mum after another week long bender, I would be able to catch a little sleep before landing in Detroit.

Detroit. That was the singular thought my tired mind kept pausing on. Stupidly, it felt just like yesterday that Marshall had first bridged that gap between us and phoned me, only it had been weeks since then, during which the most unexpected friendship had blossomed. He’d called again that next day and the timezones separating us had been made all that more obvious, him having not long dropped his daughter off at school whilst I’d been returning from lunch. He never really had given me the real reason as to why he’d gone and gotten in touch again so quickly, only that he’d wanted to double check that I was still down to fly out and work on a song or two.

It hadn’t phased me. Neither had the next few calls that had followed, nor the texts that I’d found myself composing to him at odd hours of the day.

We’d spoken about music at first: “Who inspires you?” He’d asked me which had led into a ramble. Something I only ever tended to do with those who knew me best, never having really mastered the whole art of social interaction yet, even after the fame. But he’d let me go on, before I’d eventually spun the question back around on him and listened quietly to a passionate speech about the handful of artists that had transported him out of the tiny room he’d grown up in and into something other.

I mentioned my sister after that. Em had heard her shouting at the tele one evening whilst she’d played some game that always seemed to bring out her most profane language and laughed, asking after the roaring gremlin in the background. I’d told him bits and pieces, added to the story in odd quips and mentions over the passing weeks, enough that most wouldn’t quite catch on to what I’d been avoiding, but Lottie had been around more often than not and the man had quickly worked out that she lived with me. He’d never outright asked me the reason as to why, though I liked to think that he was simply waiting for me to tell him, because this thing that we had, it was all about building trust. And Marshall? He was almost as unforgiving with who he gave that out to as I was.

Soon enough our calls and Facetimes had become a featured part of my day, one I actually looked forward to. But even saying that, I was still shit scared of meeting him properly.

As much as it might humour him for me to admit it, I was a big fan of his. Had been since I’d first heard Guilty Conscience when it had hit the UK charts. I’d been swallowed whole by the rest of his LP, had even nicked a cd copy of it off a stall down at the market, alongside Aquemini, because I’d liked it so much. In truth, one of my earliest memories even featured the man. It was of my uncle bagging tickets to Em’s first real show down in Notting Hill, his girlfriend at the time’s brother having managed to somehow score a couple on a whim. It had been all they’d talked about for weeks on end.

I’d been around long enough now though– having dived headfirst into the industry before dipping a toe in first– that I knew just how meeting your icons wasn’t all it was chalked up to be. Still, this felt different to us just bumping into one another at some show or a party. And, who was I kidding– it was entirely different. Impossibly so. I’d said it to him then and I’d reiterate it again, he had been the last person I had ever expected to call.

“Passengers boarding the 09:53 flight to Detroit, Michigan please head to Gate B7.”

I sucked in a deep breath at the overhead announcement, figuring that it really was now or never. Two weeks in a big old house working on music with Eminem, I supposed stranger things had to have happened. So instead of lingering on the inane concept, I popped an anti-sickness tablet and dragged my carry-on over towards the gate.

…

Truth be told, I much would have preferred not having slept on that flight. God, I was still embarrassed, but even so I couldn’t help the muted giggle that bypassed my lips whilst I waited for my luggage to drift on by.

I was just thankful that I’d had the foresight to wear a hat and sunnies the entire time. Mostly out of habit, yes, but also so that I could keep this whole Detroit trip hush hush, because Marshall really had gone above and beyond to bring me out here and so I didn’t want to reward him with a swarm of unwanted questions. Not that anyone would even add up the notion of me being here and allude that it was down to him. That was probably the most unlikely headline somebody could conjure up.

But back to the whole Flight from Hell. Well, I had the tendency to sometimes be dramatic so not Hell per se, it had just been humiliating. Being shaken awake only to realise you'd been drooling the entire time and the rest of the passengers had already disembarked was more than a tad bit mortifying, especially when the air steward’s eyes had widened a fraction when I’d tried to sort myself out and wake up.

I wasn’t entirely sure if he’d recognised me, or if it had just been down to the fact that Marshall had put me in First Class— a matter which I had complained about, justifiably— and that I had one of those faces he couldn’t put a name to. But either way, I hoped he wouldn’t expand too much on it.

I caught sight of my suitcase just as it pushed its way through the heavy black flaps on the end of the conveyor belt and so I slid past a man in a bright green Packers jersey to grab at it. And even I had to wince at the sight of the offending article. In all places, really? I wanted to ask. Wrong fucking move there, mate.

By the time I finally did make it out of the crowd that had amassed, it had been near enough an hour since I’d landed and so I had a few messages waiting patiently for me.

Messages The Martian Blacked out GMC parked out front Tap twice on the back window

Then…

Flight ok?

My mouth quirked upwards on its own accord at the quick relay but I was quick to shoot something back.

Messages Might have passed tf out Woke up and it was just me and the steward there:))) Also tap twice?? Do I look like James Bond to you?

Although I had to Google what the fuck a GMC looked like, I did eventually work my way out of the terminal to spot the sleek SUV sat a way down in the drop off zone. ‘Course he’d have his driver park there, I thought pointlessly to myself as I manoeuvred past a handful of tired faces with a polite smile. Though to him it was probably easier to deal with whatever fine he got plastered with than it would be for me to attempt to find the thing in pickup parking. Not that it would be all that hard, it was huge.

Anyway, by the time I managed to hone in closer on the vehicle I felt my nose scrunch up in slight embarrassment at the thought of having to knock twice, as though I really was some sort of spy or, more than likely, a dodgy dealer. But just as I approached, prepped to knock and give the driver my name, I heard the far side door open and a pair of shoes hit the rough tarmac.

Jumping back a tad, my head swivelled left to better view the figure who was then rounding the car. My eyes widened at the sight I was met with.

His smirk at my evident shock was ascued by a heavy hood and the brim of a dark cap, but it was there. Stayed there actually, all whilst he easily manoeuvred my luggage from out of my hands and into the boot of his car, whilst I simply stood there stock-still. Eventually, he came to stand before me about an arms length away. I blinked and my gaze skittered over the rest of our surroundings before they finally returned to his tilted head and piercing eyes. His back was turned towards the airport, away from the trio which had since grouped around their suitcases to wait and a handful of people that exited the terminal one or two at a time.

“What, I don’t get no hug?”

The mirthful lilt of his deep voice surprised me and my mouth worked over a plethora of words that couldn’t quite take stage before I was laughing softly into the shoulder of his jacket, his arms coming up to wrap around me.

It felt oddly surreal to finally meet him, even if I had been so caught off guard by his sudden presence.

In fact, I jolted back at the very thought and thumped his arm, my eyes narrowed even whilst my smile never appeared to falter. “Why are you here?”

His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip, arm moving to cradle the offended limb in sly mocking, before he huffed out a low laugh. “No, hello? No, wow, Marshall, I can’t believe you’re really here!”

My mouth gaped at the teasing tone he took on, much like something I’d heard on one of his songs, and then I was laughing too, shaking my head at his antics. “That’s how we’re playing this?” I quirked a brow, but eventually mimicked, “Wow, Marshall. Gee golly, I just can’t believe that you’re really here!”

Marshall dipped his chin in supposed approval, gentle eyes roaming over my face in a way similar to what I must have done when he’d first arrived. I wondered briefly what he saw but hastily brushed the thought aside. “The American accent still sucks, by the way.” He acknowledged just as he stepped forward to open the passenger side door, surprising me yet again as he slipped by me, “So if you’re goin’ into acting, take note.”

My glare was mocking at best, lacking any real heat as he waited for me to climb inside, it was only once I’d glanced back at him with a thankful smile that he moved to shut the door. I took in a sharp lungful of air at the quiet that then engulfed the car and watched him move around the front of the hood. He was achingly familiar and yet not at the same time. And it was such a strange thought to latch onto that I took the initiative to just take things as they came over the next few weeks, which turned out to work in my favour when he joined me in the car and the engine revved.

“I can’t believe you’re actually here.” I found myself saying as he slowly peeled his way out of the drop off bay. “Thought you said you’d have someone come get me.”

Em simply shook his head whilst I observed how his hands slid around the wheel with an effortless ease. “I said there’d be a car.”

My eyes widened to accentuate my point. “Exactly! There’d be a car! So I just figured a cab or something.”

His eyes flickered over towards me just as we came to a stop at the busy intersection outside the airport, then pulled away to look left and right again. “Well, you should stop figuring then.”

I couldn’t stop the eye roll I gifted him, even as I laughed heartily to myself and took in the comfort of privacy the car offered, as opposed to the flight I’d just been stuck on. It was then, whilst we merged onto the highway and followed into the flow of traffic, that I got the chance to really look at him.

I was still attempting to get over my evident shock, having expected to meet him much later on, once I’d been dropped off at the house or maybe even a while after that. But it was nice to know that he’d driven all the way here to merely pick me up when he could have just as easily sent someone to do it for him.

Marshall looked about the same as he had when we’d first phoned in truth, only it was easier now to see all of the minute details he offered the world, those tiny imperfections.

The slight dip in his chin was much more prominent now what with the way his lips had since pursed in concentration. The skin there was smooth, as though not much time had passed since it had last been seen to by a razor, and it wrinkled only around his eyes when they narrowed into focus. His nose was pointed, whilst simultaneously being both strong and soft. He had eyelashes that I could only envy, dark and long, and freckles light enough to dot both sides of his face.

He must have felt my gaze on him though because he soon chanced a glance back at me with a single raised brow. My eyes slid away from his profile and instead I opted to gesture my chin out towards the tinted windows that encased us. “These legal?” I had wondered, but mostly asked just to steer his mind away from me having been caught staring.

With a short snort, his brow dropped and the beginnings of a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. “What d’you think?”

I chuckled in retort, having expected that, and then looked away again, out towards the grassy verge that separated the long stretch of road from small grey buildings that littered both sides in the distance. It was my first time in Detroit and I wanted to make the most of it, remember every part.

It was quiet for a while after that, Em having switched on the radio at some point after asking after my flight, the two of us more than content to just let the silence linger around the hum of something so familiar, music.

He pointed things out to me here and there on the journey, nothing of real importance but dropping comments that would either make me hum or laugh loudly. He was a funny fucker even when he didn’t seem to be trying, I figured that was what I liked best about him.

We drove through Downtown Detroit at one point and I listened intently when he spoke about Ford Field, the home of his favoured Lions, and again when we stopped at a traffic light and he gestured over towards where the Fox Theatre sat. Even during the daylight it drew the eye.

Once we’d rolled away from the inner city and its skyscrapers though I felt myself relax further, pleased by the vast amount of green that I started to see. Most of the time I’d spent in The States often left me confined to the major cities, to their bustling crowds and hectic commutes, mostly because I didn’t have much of a choice in the matter, what with venues and tours, interviews and recording sessions. So this would probably be the first time I’d get to see a slice of the country’s suburbs and it wasn’t all too different from what you’d typically see back home. Not exact sure, but similar in a lot of circumstances.

It took me a while to realise that Em had been nodding his head along to the radio, following the beat in an exact tempo. The sight had me hiding my grin behind my sleeve but the move captured his attention and he must have seen the growing joy my glazed eyes gave away to when he peered over at me because his forehead furrowed. “What?”

Instantly I shook my head, “Nothing.”

His eyes darted out towards the road, shifting gears before the back of his hand shot out to tap the side of my knee. “What?” He prodded again and I was startled by the easy nature of his touch, remembering then that it was possible now that we weren’t stuck between screens.

I snorted softly, dropping my arm seeing as he’d already caught on to the grin. “Just strange, is all. Being here.”

I watched closely as he gave a slow blink and waited, propping my arm up against the window whilst slumping a little in my seat.

“Good weird, or bad?”

The answer had to have been obvious and yet, I still answered him, “The good kind.”

“Good.” He hummed and my grin softened at his own small smile. It remained there for most of the drive.

I didn’t know what I had expected to see once we finally did pull up to the house, but it didn’t fail to live up to its owner's accomplishments. It was beautiful, big yes, but beautiful too. Terracotta in colour and with a long gravel driveway. He had trees and flowers around the fenced gate to further keep out any prying eyes, but they were vivid and lush. Pretty to admire.

Marshall turned towards me once we’d slowed to a stop and I smiled, unbuckling my seatbelt before he huffed a chuckle, turning off the engine and moving to do the same. The door shut behind me once I’d jumped out and I let myself breathe in the change of air. Having been cooped up in the Big Apple for the last few days it was refreshing to be able to actually enjoy it and not just think about all of the heavy city fumes.

I was quick to snap out of it though when I heard the slight beep that sounded from the back of the car when the boot reopened. “Hey, I can get that.”

Marshall's eyes cut over towards my approaching figure. “So can I.” He tugged the heavy suitcase out with one hand, “See?”

“Mature, Mathers.” I retorted, leaning past him to at least grab my carry on, but he was there too, our hands clutched the handle at the same time, his encasing mine. “I can get it.” I repeated, turning slightly in my stance to lift my brows up at him.

He was close, thigh pressing into the ledge of the boot whilst his other hand still held onto the door stationed above our heads. “You’re my guest.”

His tone was gruff, low enough for only me to have heard, even though there wasn’t anyone else mulling about. My eyes shifted, flickering back and forth between his own. “Then let your guest get their way.”

He blew out an amused breath, the weight of it fanned my face and had a few loose strands of hair fluttering. “You’re so fuckin’ stubborn.”

I shifted and his knee knocked against mine. “Here’s the pot calling the kettle black.” I quipped with a growing smile.

There was the slightest shake of his head, his mouth twitched, and then he was leaning in closer. I held my breath. Waiting. For God knows what, when—

He snatched the bag out from under my hand.

“Marshall!” It was almost indignant the yell I made, shocked by the sly move he’d played and the fact that he’d already jumped back to make his way towards the front door before I could even properly react. I heard his bright laughter echo back to mock me.

“Too slow.” Marshall called in turn, shrugging as he shot a smug look over his shoulder. “Lock her up for me?”

The tap he then gave his right trouser pocket evidently had me frowning and so I looked down on impulse, only to spot a set of keys dangling from the belt loop on my jeans. Baffled, my head snapped upwards, just in time to see him laugh and wheel my suitcase inside.

I took a deep breath, then let it go.

“Such a prick.” I muttered to myself, though not unkindly, as I jumped up to grab the boot door and slam it shut, using the fob to then lock the monster truck up.

By the time I made it up the rest of the drive and through the front door I was a little less peeved about the whole thing, which was mostly down to me having been a little humoured by his methods of undermining.

“You treat all your supposed guests like this?” I blew out.

Marshall only greeted my entry with a snort. “Uhuh, that initiation we talked about? Starts here.”

Rolling my eyes, I stepped further into the entryway to observe, making the effort not to gape at the sheer size of it. Because in truth, he could’ve easily fit a half a dozen Harleys in the space between the door and the stairs.

“Where do we start the sacrifice then? Can’t imagine anyone would be all too happy about staining these pretty floors.” My toe skimmed a stark white tile as I said it, peering over at him through my lashes whilst I thought back to an earlier conversation we’d had and the fact that he’d actually remembered.

“Basement, baby!”

He used the term in ridicule, to accentuate the gaiety in the back and forth we’d just begun. His hands shot out wide in a gesticulative fashion and so I used the moment to grab at the handle of my suitcase he’d left by the door, thankful that the thing had wheels. I grinned at the small victory.

“You were saying?” I dragged out around a pleased smile.

Marshall shook his head at me, like he actually couldn’t believe I’d attempted to one up him— and managed it. Though he thankfully left it alone. Still, that was probably only due to the fact that he then said, “Want a tour?”

And who was I to deny?

“If you don’t want me getting lost, then yes please.”

He scoffed, but wore the ghost of a smile as he pushed further into the house, leading me this way and that until we finally wandered up another set of stairs onto the second floor.

“Bedrooms are there.” Marshall pointed out to me, hands stretched towards both the halls that lined either side of the staircase. “Mine’s just down here, Z’s too.” He explained further, gesturing towards the two doors on the far right side, Rosie’s bore a bright sign with her name and I was humoured to see that the usual silver handle had been switched out in favour of a neon pink.

He caught my slight smile at the sight of the door and nudged me with his shoulder.

“Quit it.”

I snorted softly, pursing my lips to dampen the grin I wore. “I didn’t say anything! But I do love it.” Honestly it was too cute seeing him all mushy like that, and the fact that he’d gone out of his way to make something like a door handle special for his daughter was endearing.

Marshall grunted out a hum, then took a deliberate step over toward a room a little closer, the door had been left slightly ajar. He pushed it open to reveal a room that could have resembled a hotel room had it not been for the much warmer sense of comfort it offered. I reckoned it was down to the little souvenirs and decorative pieces that had been jotted around the place, like the snowglobe of Big Ben and a little British flag, as well as the articles of clothing which had been laid out on the bed.

My attention caught on those first and I glanced back at Em, who was now leaning against the doorframe, to ask a silent question. The man shrugged the shoulder that wasn’t pressed to the wood and suddenly looked a tad bit sheepish, “Rosie’s idea. Wanted to give you something, like, so you’d feel welcome or some shit.”

I let my fingers brush over the pyjama’s the little girl must have picked out. They were soft and dotted with tiny woodland creatures, bunnies and berries. My heart ached at the lovely gesture, never really having had anyone do something like this for me, let alone someone so small and sweet who had gone out of their way to make me feel welcomed of all things.

“You lucked out with her.” I murmured and was granted a doting smile when I peered back up at the girl’s father.

“She’s aight.” Marshall reasoned, pushing out a small breath as he took a step further into the bedroom. “Room okay then?”

Smiling, almost a little stupidly, I chuckled in disbelief and took another peer around the room. “It’s perfect, thank you again for this.”

He rolled his eyes at me and made a gah sound, “Say thanks again and I’ll take you to the nearest motel.”

My eyes widened just as my jaw dropped, “A motel, really? Wow, and here I thought we were truly bonding.”

“You know what they say, don’t assume.”

Narrowing my stare into something a bit more intense I waited for him to crack, but he must have been half-alien or something because the man held his own much longer than I did. “You’re such a dick.” I eventually chuckled, shaking my head.

“Get used to it,” He retorted and stepped away to wheel my suitcase further into the room, placing my bag down on the end of the plush bedspread. “You tired? Figured we could grab something to eat once Z’s home if you’re down.”

It was something I was used to, the whole jumping back and forth between serious and teasing, but I still found it sweet how he would tend to ask after me, simply to make sure that everything was still good.

I hummed in reply and took one last look at the pyjamas I'd been gifted. “I’m good, slept on the flight–”

“And drooled all over them First Class seats.” He butted in, earning himself a short glare which only proved to make him grin.

I should have known to have kept that shit to myself, fucker would probably lord it over my head forever.

“Uhuh, hilarious.” I deadpanned before continuing on like he hadn’t interrupted, “What’re you thinking of getting?”

The question went unanswered because it was then that the front door sounded, creaking open on its heavy hinges before it rattled closed. I jumped at the unexpected noise whilst Em simply glanced back over his shoulder, “That’ll be her.” He commented, confusing me for a second when he raised his hand and started a countdown on his fingers, “3, 2, 1–”

“Dad!”

I snorted at the precise timing, Marshall already moving towards the door at the call of his name and so I went to follow. It was just as we made it back out onto the hallway’s landing that he paused, “I can keep her occupied for a while if you wanna settle in, take a nap or something.”

It was an offer and a half from any parent to attempt to keep their kid at bay, I mean I’d done it a fair few times with an excitable Lottie over the years, but I waved it off, smiling when the girl’s voice called out again. “Dad?”

Marshall leaned in closer, hand clutching the bannister, and lowered his voice whilst his face got all serious, “Get out whilst you still can.”

Huffing out a mirthful breath, I couldn’t quite hide my smile. “I’m good, I'm actually excited to meet her.”

He paused and observed me for a moment, as though he was trying to see the truth behind that sentiment, which made me unsure. But I hoped he did find the sincerity in my words because it hadn’t been a lie, I was nervous to meet his daughter sure, wanted her to like me and not feel as though I was suddenly imposing on her life, but I had genuinely enjoyed her witty remarks and scathing comments when we had spoken the night before. She reminded me of a little of a younger Lotts.

Em eventually nodded at me, cheek dimpling ever so in a possible attempt to dampen his reaction, but before I could question it, the man was jogging down the stairs. “Up here, you monster. And what I tell you ‘bout yellin’?”

A familiar face poked its way out of the hall at the bottom of the staircase and the smile that dawned on it was beaming when she spotted her dad. “How are you gonna hear me if I don’t yell?” She replied, squealing when the man swept her up off feet and into a hug, peppering a line of kisses into her hair, “Dad!”

Marshall snorted at the reaction he’d garnered but eventually lowered the girl back down onto her feet, whilst I just stood at the bottom of the stairs watching them with a fond smile. “What?” He said in a put upon voice and ran a hand over the girl’s head, bulging his eyes out wide when Rosie pulled a face. “How was school, kiddo?”

Rosie pushed up onto the balls of her feet before she rocked back, “Good, I ran out to the car quick to get home ‘fore she gets here.”

The smirk the man took on was almost evil and he laughed when he cocked his head out to gesture behind the girl. “Just about managed it.”

A curtain of honey coloured hair swept over her shoulders when the girl twirled around on her heel, eyes widening in sudden surprise to find me standing there. “El!” She called out, a grin breaking across her features before she hurried over to engulf me in a hug too.

Even as surprised as I was by the gesture, I chuckled and lowered myself down to squeeze her back, smiling at Em from over the top of her head. “Hey,” I murmured gently, staying crouched even as we pulled apart, “Thanks for the pjs, they’re probably the best gift I’ve gotten in ages.”

That statement appeared to thrill the girl, who’s eyes twinkled under the soft lights, “I got a matching pair, guessed we could wear them tonight and watch a movie so you’d feel more at home.”

My heart burst at the thought, I was sure of it.

But then Marshall went to speak and I already knew what he’d been prepared to say, so instead of letting him ruin Rosie’s sweet plans, I was quick to jump in, “I’d love that.”

The smile she gave me was award worthy and she turned back to face her dad with that settled. “See, if you had gotten the same ones like I said, you could’ve joined!”

I snorted at the expression that then crossed Em’s face, his head jolting back a tad.

“You really didn’t get some to match?” I egged the girl on, mouth dropping open in a feigned amount of shock.

We were both met with a disbelieving shake of his head as the man blew out a heavy breath and turned away. “I’ll watch what I want and wear what I want, it’s my house.” He threw back at us as he headed further into the house, murmuring under his breath, “Women.”

Rosie and I shared a conspiratorial grin before we made to follow after him.

“It’s rude to just dump your friend, Dad.” Rosie commented once we’d wandered into the kitchen to find Em grabbing a couple of bottles out of the fridge, the girl slid onto a stool at the end of the island whilst I bit my cheek to keep from outright laughing.

Her words were met by an unimpressed stare that didn’t appear to phase her as she continued to swing her legs back and forth. The man let the fridge door slip close as he made his way over to join his daughter, handing her a bottle before sliding the other across the counter to me. “You got homework?”

Rosie’s eyes flickered from her dad to me, then back again, “Maybe, but it’s Math.”

“Well, we ain’t goin’ nowhere til it’s done.” Marshall told her with a small shrug, even though I’d seen his eyes widen at the thought of having to deal with numbers and sums. “Get changed and we can start on it, okay?”

The girl emitted a soft sigh but ultimately moved to jump down from off the stool, “You any good at Math, El?”

Biting down on my smirk, I ignored Em’s murmured warning of the girl’s name and answered, “Not bad, I might be a little help.”

“Anything’s better than my Dad’s attempts.”

“Yo, I try.” Marshall was all too quick to quip back in retort, his arms now crossed over his chest as he stared his daughter down with a slight frown.

Rosie’s smile was precious, but her eyes told another story. I knew then that she understood exactly how to keep her dad wrapped around her finger. She was a little menace and I already loved it. “I know, Daddy, my teacher said that my English homework was the best she’d read in a while.”

Em actually seemed to take pride in that and so I guessed he’d had a hand in that homework too. His daughter also appeared to take note of the fact that he was pleased because she hurried off then, calling out over her shoulder once more, “Be back in a sec!”

“Yellin’!” Marshall yelled, defeating the whole purpose of his previous argument, before he sighed and gestured me over towards the seat Rosie had just vacated. “See what I have to put up with?”

Scoffing, I moved to take up the stool whilst he picked up a few stray notes lying on the counter and placed a glass that had been left behind at some point into the sink. “You ain’t seen nothing yet. Wait til she’s thirteen and debating the point of riding a dirtbike to and from school with you.”

Em barked out a real laugh at that as he turned his back on the sink to shoot me a look that said ‘Really?’

I heaved a put upon sigh, fingers toying with the water bottle I’d been gifted.

“That’s not even the worst of it.” I told him as my mouth worked over a smile, “Before I left she asked if she and a few friends could stay at the house alone whilst I was away, because, and I repeat, ‘If there’s six of us then that basically equates to one whole adult’. I’m still genuinely scared that she went through with it even after I said no, keep checking the security cameras to make sure there isn't a herd of teenagers working their way inside.”

He wore an amused smirk but I noticed there were more than a few questions hiding behind his stare. They’d been there for a while now.

“You can ask.” I eventually said, appreciating the atmosphere his home offered, from the warm walls and the pictures that decorated the place, to the odd bits of mess that made the too large house look lived in.

Em worked his tongue into the curve of his cheek and watched me for a moment, before he eventually settled his forearms against the counter and leaned into it. “Kinda figured you took care of her, even before you mentioned that she was your sister.”

My gaze flickered down to the water droplets that clung to my fingertips, the bottle sweating from the change in temperature. “Yeah. I mean, I’m a lot older than her, so we sort of lived through different shit but I went through a lot as a kid, with like my mum and all the issues she had. When I found out that she was pregnant again it was through this woman who used to work with her at the local greengrocers when I was little. I just remembered thinking that I didn’t want that baby going through the same thing I did.”

My mind flashed back to the memory. Thinking of Annie’s wrinkled face and the relentless rain that had only just begun to let up. She had congratulated me.

“I was sixteen, had long since packed my shit up and left, but I’d never had the money to get too far. So I’d still spot her out and about.” I licked at the corner of my mouth, unwilling to meet his eye. “I went to see her after I’d heard, mostly out of anger. Her new boyfriend had moved in and I remember just being thankful for the fact that my brother had a friend that didn’t mind putting him up. She said she wasn’t using, just fags and the like, a cider here and there. Was surprised to see me, though she expected a big song and dance about the new baby.”

I picked at the water bottle’s label.

“When Lotts was actually born, her dad was locked up proper– facing sixteen years for armed robbery. Mum had her in a ward two months early and ended up leaving her there to go visit him. She was a preemie, tiny, too tiny, you know?” I murmured and could still picture her that small. “Mum she came back that same night mostly for a bed to sleep in, but had already found herself a fix. The nurses must have noticed that something was up, they’d asked to run blood tests and shit, but mum wouldn't have it. Would come and go during visiting hours whilst Lotts was in the NICU. I stayed, only leaving when I had a shift to work, and even then I’d come running straight back.”

Marshall just stood there listening and in truth I was thankful that he hadn’t thought to interrupt me to offer words of comfort or probe deeper. Although his eyes were serious when I finally managed to look over at him, listening intently.

I rubbed my lips together before getting on with it, “I moved back in with her when Lottie was finally able to come home. Ended up taking care of the kid when I was still just a kid myself, only so that she didn’t get tossed into care or fucking overdose on whatever shit mum and whoever else left lying around. It was just the two of us for a while, before my brother, Danny, came back. He’d gotten caught up in something with these older lads on the estate and was still at school, so I worked nights down at this pub under the table to keep up with rent and he’d watch over her for a few hours. It was there that I started performing just for extra cash, like on mic nights and stuff.”

Em squinted and for the first time he opened his mouth to contribute something, “That’s where you got found, right?”

I was sure I hadn’t mentioned that in any of our conversations and so I could only guess that he’d done a little bit of digging on me, the thought made me want to laugh but instead I simply smiled. “Yeah, some scout just happened to be passing through.”

He hummed, taking that in.

“But by the time anything really came about, my brother had long since gone off to join the army and Lottie was seven.” I mentioned, eyes jumping back and forth between him and the bottle I still clung to, “I’d always taken care of her, but then I was suddenly needed elsewhere to make these dreams come true, to make money, to give her a better future.”

I knew that he could relate to that, to the utter struggle and fear I’d faced, terrified it would all fall through and I’d be left with nothing again.

“I didn’t really have a choice about leaving her though so she stayed with a neighbour at first, then her dad’s aunt who was nice enough to pop round sometimes, she was an older frail woman. I managed to actually land something eventually and started work on an album, but even after that the weight of anxiety had settled and I was working so hard just to keep all of these producers' attention.”

I swallowed thickly at the next flashback that had hastily followed.

“Shit went down while I was over here in The States.”

I felt sick each time I thought about it, hardly even dared even attempt to bring it up even to those few that knew. Lotts didn’t really remember any of it though, didn’t recall the hospital scare or my frantic need to make sure that she was okay for weeks after it had happened.

“I flew back that night and managed to sort of work things out. Threw a fucking toaster at my mum’s head I was so angry–” I snorted stupidly, “It missed. But after that I couldn’t trust her. She’d lost any sort of love I’d held for her. That was about five years ago now though, so she’s a bit different. Trying, she says. But Lotts stays with me until the very second I can’t help it.”

Blowing out a shaky breath, I willed my gaze to meet his and was taken back by the intensity of his stare.

“Sounds like a piece of work.” Marshall eventually commented and it honest to God made me laugh, allowing me to fill that hollow in my heart for a second and be grateful for the ease of it, because I really wasn’t too sure if I’d been about ready to cry at his kitchen table. “But I get it.” He added, “I think it’s great what you did for her, too. She probably won’t realise that til later but you should hear it.”

I glanced away, eyes suddenly stinging and tried to smile. “Yeah, well.” I tittered, wiping the corner of my eye discreetly, “She’s staying with her now and it’s got me on edge.”

Marshall moved around the kitchen island to place a careful hand on my shoulder, squeezing slightly before he ended up dragging me into a one armed hug. “You’re tough. Which means she’s gotta be too. I’m sure she’s just doing what kids do and messin’ around with her friends. Remember that’s all I did growing up, anything was better than bein’ in that house.”

A small snort escaped me as we parted, though he stayed near. “Because that’s so reassuring.”

He clucked his tongue and grinned, knocking shoulders with me, “I was a good kid, didn’t do nothin’ bad.”

“Uhuh,” I felt the need to drag out, “The image of an angel, Marshall Mathers.”

“Too fuckin’ right.”

“Dollar!”

It seemed we both jumped at the sudden reappearance of Rosie, who came sweeping into the room with a finger pointed at her father and an armful of school supplies. The skin between my brows pinched in confusion before the man beside me answered her, giving me the explanation I needed.

“For what?”

“You swore.” The girl shot back at him and climbed onto the stool beside me to settle her notebook down as well as a few pages of paper and pens.

Marshall ended huffing, unable to deny that he had and moved towards the cupboard by the large, sliding glass door.

“Maybe don’t eavesdrop on conversations. Reckon you owe a dollar for that, girlie.” He’d since grabbed a plastic tub and I was honestly surprised by the sparse amount of notes that were hidden inside it. Em must have spotted my surprise though and equated it to what it meant because he spoke again, “It gets emptied every couple a’ weeks and that monster over there gets to choose what we spend it on.”

Rosie perked up at the mention. “Last time I got him to take me fishing.”

“Fishing?” I wondered, blinking at the revelation. I looked back at Marshall and laughed, “I’m sorry but I can’t imagine you in that scenario.”

“Ha ha.” The man said impassively, widening my grin whilst he tugged two dollars out from his back pocket and shovelled them into the jar before he returned it to its rightful place.

“He only caught one.” Rosie piped up, already having written the date in that backwards way the American’s preferred, “It was real cute.”

I raised a brow and shot it Em’s way. “Cute?”

Rosie’s smile was big and bright, “Yeah! He said we had to let it go though ‘cause it was so small.”

Marshall rolled his eyes and then pointed between the pair of us. “You two keep this whole thing up imma go out to eat by myself. Bunch’a bullies, I swear.”

Rosie and I broke into a fit of giggles at that which only made the man’s expression flatten that much more, he waited for us to get over it before he looked between us and the notebook which had been laid out. “Enjoy Math, I’m gonna go grab a burger.”

“No!” I laughed brightly, spinning on my stool when he started to walk back around the island, “We want food too.”

“Yeah, we’ll start a riot, we're that hungry.” Rosie told him and I couldn’t muffle the rest of my giggles. Marshall merely rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time.

“Math, then we can talk food.” He declared, tickling his daughter’s side as he slid in beside her to get a better look at the worksheet she had. His eyes widened. “They got you using letters now too?”

Rosie’s laughter filled the kitchen and I got a first row ticket to watch her and her dad’s light ribbing as we started in on the first question. The sight of it made my heart swell in truth, it was just so easy to see how much love they held for one another.

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hooksbooks · 5 months ago

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Fanfic Writers Appreciation Day

This year I participated in @renegadeguild's Renegade Loves Fic (Writers) event for the first time, in which we celebrate Fanfic Writers Appreciation Day by binding two copies of a fanfic we love and sending one copy to the author.

I chose Florigenesis by @nientedal (and its sequel your roots send down to grow as an epilogue), which is a Megamind/Roxanne hanahaki story. Or, in the words of the author, "Less 'Hanahaki' and more 'mutually-requited pining with flowers thrown in for flavor.' " I loved the imagery of the flowers and had a lot of fun typesetting it with as many floral motifs as I could fit in it.

The flower Megamind ends up coughing up for Roxanne are dahlias, so I found some open-source images of dahlias sourced from books in the public domain to use as scene breaks and as a watermark behind the table of contents. Additionally, I used the font "Lime Blossom Caps" to use as a drop-cap at the beginning of each chapter. The text ended up being a bit more than 380 pages.

This is the first time I've done a book partially covered in paper instead of all in bookcloth. Before gluing the paper to the cover, I sealed it with homemade paste wax, which I think turned out really well. The book has a lovely feel to it--I'll definitely do some more partial-paper covered books in the future.

Also for the first time I sewed a headband on each book. It turned out fairly well. I used waxed linen thread as the core (the waxed thread that came with my bookbinding kit--its braided and so thick I can't imagine using it for sewing signatures).

Additionally, I got myself a chisel (and sharpening kit) to trim the edges, which turned out much better than expected. I still don't have something to hold the book horizontally while I trim so I'm still trimming vertically for now, but it turned out much better than trying to use a utility knife like I was before.

Technical Details:

Quarto size (quarter-letter, about A6)

Sewn-on made endpapers

Rounded but not backed

Sewn-on headbands (no tailbands)

Chisel-trimmed pages

Oxford hollow

The linen tapes are frayed and glued to the exterior of the boards

Sewn-on bookmark

Things I especially liked about this bind:

CHISEL TRIMMING! I knew it would up my game to have a chisel to trim pages with rather than just a utility knife, but WOW, it made SO MUCH difference! Once they were finished I kept petting the edges of the pages because they were just so soft and smooth and perfect.

I really like the sewn-in headbands. I'd probably use a bit thicker core next time, but they turned out well and I'm pleased with them.

I'm surprised how much I liked the paper-covered covers. I had planned on most of my books being full-bookcloth with this one as an exception, but with how much I like the look and feel of this book I will probably switch that around and do just quarter-bound with bookcloth unless I have a good reason to make an exception.

For the made endpapers, I glued just the edge of the endpaper to the white instead of the whole page. I quite like it--it's a lot more flexible this way and doesn't have a "noticeably glued-together" feel to it.

The wax paste turned out really well. It makes the cover feel very "finished" instead of just like scrapbook paper, which is what it actually is.

Things I'd like to improve for next time:

Because the text block is rounded but not backed, there's a little wrinkling of the endpaper glued to the board right at the hinge so it doesn't pull when the book is opened all the way. I'll have to experiment a bit more with this to figure out a good hinge for a rounded-not-backed book.

Although I love the flower cover, it's a little busy to have the title legible on the cover, so it's only on the spine. That's not a bad thing, but I'm not sure what I would do if I definitely did want a title/design on the cover itself.

I think honestly there's not very much to improve for next time. I'm very pleased with how this one came out--it's very nearly perfect.

#renegadelovesfic24 #fanfiction #fanbinding #bookbinding #renegade bindery #megamind #hanahaki

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hecate-editing · 1 year ago

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Making Characters That Make Sense

Walk-through character template & "how to" guide for writing complex, original protagonists.

If you google "character templates for writing", you'll get a lot of very basic examples that read like a grocery list: eye colour, hair colour, skin colour, positive traits, negative traits, etc.

And sure, filling out this kind of template isn't completely useless - but it's also not particularly useful, either. Choosing whether your protagonist has blue eyes or green eyes isn't going to determine whether readers connect with them or not.

Instead, I prefer to use the below template:

There's some fairly left-of-centre categories here, so in this blog post I'll be creating a character from scratch to demonstrate what each section means and how to use the template effectively.

Primary Goal & Raison D'Être

Fantasy Romance is having a bit of a tournament-to-the-death moment right now, with Hunger Games-inspired stories like Fourth Wing, Throne of Glass, The Savior's Champion, and The Serpent and the Wings of Night in high demand - so that's what we're going to work with in today's blog post.

The story premise and primary goal of the protagonist are almost always interconnected. In this case, the story premise is a tournament to the death - and the character's main goal is to win that tournament, obviously.

But where there's room for some originality is in the raison d'être. This loosely translates to "reason for being" or "purpose". It's the why of it.

For example: what motivated this character to risk their life by entering such a tournament in the first place?

It is sometimes helpful to look at similar stories when thinking about this category. Not so you can copy their protagonist's motivations - but so you can do something different.

The whole selfless-self-sacrifice thing, for example - that's done. At least in relation to this particular sub-genre. We can do better for our hypothetical Maera Mystfang character.

Actually, let's really turn the trope on its head and make her raison d'être incredibly self-centred.

Already, this is character is shaping up to be something a little bit different within the niche of tournaments to the death. Which goes to show how putting a little bit of thought can go a long way, even with something as simple as identifying your character's initial purpose.

Primary Obstacle

Every protagonist needs a goal - and every goal needs an obstacle. This is what gives the story some tension and keeps readers turning the page.

An obvious choice of obstacle for this hypothetical character, since we're dealing with a fantasy romance, would be that Maera starts to develop feelings for one of her fellow competitors.

This concept has definitely been done, but that's okay. Not every section of this list has to break the mould. Tropes exist for a reason and it is totally okay to lean into them sometimes.

However, just for funsies, I'm going to try and put a slightly different spin on this one too.

Instead of the obvious "I love one of the people I'm meant to kill", let's make Maera's (previously dormant) conscience be the problem. Her reasons for entering the tournament may have been self-motivated, but as she gets to know her fellow competitors - admires some of them, even - she starts to second guess those reasons.

Core Traits

A lot of character templates will divide personality traits into positives and negatives - but I don't think this is particularly helpful. It is far too one dimensional - not to mention unrealistic. The key components of someone's personality aren't usually so black and white.

In fact, most core traits are both good and bad at the same time - it just depends on the context.

Instead of being wholly positive or negative, try to think of three core character traits that can serve as two sides of the same coin, with both positive and negative implications to each.

For Maera, I've given her these core traits:

Self-reliant;

Rebellious; and

Good-humoured.

Her self-reliance means that she is incredibly capable - but it's also the cause of her selfishness. She's always had to look after herself, so she expects others to do the same.

Her rebellious attitude means she isn't willing to accept the status quo. But at times she is also a rebel without a cause, causing trouble just for the fun of it.

Her good sense of humour means she is fun to be around, but she also tends to not take things as seriously as she should.

Thinking of core traits in this multi-faceted way not only adds realistic complexity, but it also sets you up well for showcasing character development and growth throughout the story.

Fatal Flaw & Character Arc / Growth

You've probably read negative reviews that throw around terms like "Mary Sue" or "Gary Stu". People tend to be over-zealous with these terms, especially for Mary Sue, but the gist of it is that the character in question is "too perfect".

They're the chosen one, they're good at everything, all the boys like them, etc.

Some characters can get away with this just fine. Look at Aragorn. He's the ultimate Gary Stu but I still swoon every time he opens those damn doors. You know the scene I'm talking about.

Ooft.

But for the most part, you want to incorporate a fatal flaw into your protagonists - because this is what gives them room to grow.

And, no. "I was born to be King but I don't wanna" does not count as a fatal flaw.

Instead, think bigger. Think worse. Think about where your character starts versus where you want them to end up. Think about how you want the events of the narrative to change their world view - or even their initial goal.

For Maera, her fatal flaw is pretty obvious, given her initial motivations for entering the tournament. Similarly, her growth/arc is linked to her primary obstacle, which is developing a conscious.

Her journey throughout this hypothetical story might be learning to appreciate how her past shaped her, while also acknowledging that there are things she can do to ensure others don't have to go through what she did. By being shown acts of kindness, she learns to appreciate their value.

First Impression

Now that we've covered all the "big picture" stuff, let's get into some of the smaller details that give your character some texture.

The first impression category is a hypothetical exercise where you image how your character might appear to a room full of strangers. In dual, multi, or omniscient POVs, you might even get the opportunity to include this impression somewhere in the story.

But even for first-person narratives, it is still worth thinking about, because it will help to inform how other characters interact and respond to your protagonist (at least at first).

For Maera, I've written this first impression as: a fun person to have a few drinks with - so long as you keep a close eye on your wallet.

From this description, we can guess that Maera probably likes to have a good time, but also comes across as untrustworthy. Whether that impression is deserved or not is up to you, as the author, to decide.

There's also a lot of deeper directions you can take this first impression category, too. Like if most people react to Maera this way, but one particular character doesn't, then your readers are going to sit up and pay extra attention during that interaction. Especially when that person reacting atypically is the future love interest.

Spirit Animal

Ah, this one is a fun one!

I always encourage my authors to assign a "spirit animal" to their characters - especially when they're doing multi-POV.

There are two main reasons for this:

It will allow you to assign some very distinct adjectives and verbs with that particular character; and

It is an opportunity to flesh out some additional character traits beyond the core traits.

For Maera, I've chosen "spider" because she is solitary by nature, opportunistic, and patient.

But, more than that, I also like the idea of Maera being the kind of person who knows how to watch and wait. While her first impression might be "here for the good times", her joking façade is actually a mask she wears while carefully observing others.

For example:

Her words were laced with venom. She crawled her way across the rooftop. At some point, weaving lies had become more of a past time that a necessity. Her thoughts were a tangled mess. She didn't bother to conceal her predatory gaze. Inch by cautious inch, she crept forward. Her sanity was already hanging by a thread. If there was one thing she knew how to do, it was spin a good story - truth be damned.

I've never outright compared Maera to a spider in these examples, nor have I made it blatantly obvious that that's what I'm doing. But by peppering these kinds or words throughout the story, I'll be able to subtly create a very distinct kind of impression for her character.

For comparison's sake, let's assign "cat" to the love interest. Examples of possible words to consider in this instance might be:

He clawed his way through the bushes. "What are you doing?" he hissed. The comment had some bite to it, that was for sure. He slunk away into the darkness. His still, unwavering focus was unnerving. He prowled towards her. In a few quick, agile steps, he'd made it across the parapet. He yawned and stretched out beside her.

Of course, not every single word you use in association with a character needs to be related to their spirit animal. But keeping a certain type of animal in mind - and finding opportunities to throw in some subtle messaging through language choice - can be beneficial on so many levels.

It helps to distinguish your characters from one another through the kind of language you use to describe them - but it's also just really, really fun way to add some bonus texture to your characters. Giving your readers some little easter eggs like this is never a bad thing.

Love Language

If you're unfamiliar with the concept of the five basic love languages, then here's a quick visual overview:

Love languages aren't a consideration that's specific to romance. They're important for friendships and familial relationships too.

Because thinking about what your protagonist values most in love is going to tell you a lot about who they are. Especially when you take the question deeper and think about why this is something they value.

For Maera, I've chosen "Acts of Service" because this ties in quite well to her character arc.

In terms of Maera's why, I could easily go with "because this was how she was shown love as a child" - and this is a good enough option most of the time. However, since her love language is very much tied into growing out of her fatal flaw, then I actually want to do the opposite.

Maera winds up valuing acts of service because this is something she craved - and wasn't given - as a child. She had to do things the hard way instead. Hence why she ends up appreciating the kindness of others so much. Such generosity is new to her - and precious.

Conflict Response

This is potentially one of the most overlooked character components. Conflict and tension is central to story telling, yet there is so little attention given to creating authentic, original responses to conflict.

The way I see it, there are three main considerations in regards to conflict response:

How your character reacts in the moment;

The unhealthy methods they use to deal with the aftermath; and

The healthy methods they use (or discover) to self-sooth.

When faced with conflict, Maera's immediate reaction is to antagonise. She doesn't like to back down and enjoys creating trouble.

However, in the aftermath, the conflict affects her more than she lets on. She stews on it - and her solution to that is to get drunk until she can forget about it completely.

But even though she sometimes forgets it, Maera has a more healthy coping mechanism at her disposal. When she is surrounded by nature - in the forest, by the sea, whatever - it calms her.

In addition to identifying your protagonist's various responses to conflict, it is also helpful to think about why. Again, this is a great opportunity to insert something unique into their character backstory.

With Maera, for example, let's think about why she finds nature so soothing. Perhaps, amidst a very bleak childhood, one of her fondest memories is of picking grapes in a vineyard.

Perhaps the elderly woman who owned the vineyard was very rude and abrupt - but also quite kind to Maera in her own way. Maybe she would sometimes stitch up Maera's clothes or feed Maera a hearty, meaty dinner - even though she didn't have to.

If you're struggling to think of a real, tangible, unique memory such as this - then it's always helpful to go back to the old classic of write what you know. Think of a real life moment or memory - something that's stuck with you, no matter how simple - then adapt it to your character.

To create this vineyard example, I simply drew on my experience of picking strawberries with my Nonna after school.

Mentor / Idol

I could write an entire thesis on mentors. Or, more specifically, the "death of the mentor" trope - both in its literal and metaphorical interpretations.

But, for the sake of brevity, let's save that sh*t for another time and focus on what's important for a basic (yet complex) character template. And that is:

The Formative Mentor (past); and

Transformative Mentor (present).

The formative mentor (or idol) is someone who influenced your character prior to the events of the novel. Sometimes they're a character the reader will meet, or other times, they're long gone before the novel even begins.

The transformative mentor is a much looser term. It doesn't necessarily have to be a traditional mentor character, but rather it is a character who heavily influences or changes your protagonist throughout the events of the novel.

For Maera, I want her earliest idol to be a random female sell-sword who she crossed paths with. Prior to meeting this sell-sword, Maera was living without hope for a future, surviving on scraps and petty crime.

But after seeing an independent and moderately wealthy sell-sword in her local tavern, Maera got a glimpse into the kind of life that might be possible if she learned to fight. With the right kind of skills, she might be able to earn some decent money for a change - and travel the world.

This is an example of how "mentors" don't always have to be a wise wizard who oversees your protagonist's training and education. Young minds are impressionable - and even distant figures can have a lasting impact.

Just look at all the women who cite Legally Blonde as the reason why they were drawn to law. Elle Woods wasn't even real - but for plenty of young girls, she made an impact.

Similarly, your protagonist's "present" mentor or idol doesn't necessarily have to be a wise wizard either. It can simply be someone who motivates them to change their world view or strive to be better.

In romance, it is more than acceptable to have the present mentor coincide with the love interest - especially in standalone enemies-to-lovers. I know this seems counter-intuitive, since the word "mentor" implies a power imbalance, but it makes more sense if you readjust your definition of mentor to be "inspires change".

However, for Maera, I kind of like the idea of pairing her up with a love interest who shares some of her flaws. I vibe with the idea of making him a bit self-interested too, although for different reasons.

So in her example, I've listed the present mentor as a selfless secondary character. The way I would envision this going is Maera and the love interest team up early on - but somewhere along the way a secondary character saves them both. They're both heavily influenced by this character before this character sacrifices themselves. The aftermath of this incident rattles both Maera and her love interest, and serves as the spark for growth.

I hope you found this template - and very long explanation - useful!

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