The Collector [Diaper Dimension]

Prologue
Chris didn’t mind the cross country driving and he didn’t mind the stressful work. He found satisfaction in his work and he knew it was a good cause. There was only one thing he hated about his job: he couldn’t see his family, to them and the rest of Earth, Christopher Langley, LAPD officer of ten years was dead. In reality he was a reaper, at least that’s what he called himself his real title was: Collector. Chris worked for The Bureau’s acquisition department moving throughout North America acquiring people to be sent through the dimensional portal and become babies to Amazons. He was approached almost two years ago, three months before official first contact with Amazonia, it was an offer he could not refuse. If Chris worked for this organization, collecting pre-designated people who needed help and dropping them off at pre-designated spots, his family would never worry about anything again. At first Chris flat out refused due to the fact that what they were asking him to do was kidnapping, but then they showed him the world of Amazonia and the technology they had. They told him that they wanted a partnership between the two worlds. He saw the fate that awaited the people he would collect and was initially horrified, but after talking with a few littles who had been taken in off the streets by The Bureau, he accepted.

When the news broke about the cross dimensional portal, Chris knew that his job was about to change. He had been working out of a Ford Transit and using drugs that he had been supplied with by the people who took the people he collected to… collect his targets. When The Bureau created their Earth headquarters in San Francisco he and four others were called. All five of the original collectors of Earth littles for The Bureau were former law enforcement officers. The Amazons’ reasoning behind this was that they knew how to evade capture, how to clean a scene, and how to operate under pressure. Despite The Bureau operating out in the public, Chris and his fellow collectors still operated in the shadows considering what they were doing was still quite illegal. However, The Bureau gave him a bit of tech to make his life a bit easier. That was two years ago. Today Chris was in Boston, on the job.

“Let’s see, let’s see.” Christ said as he drove his van down the street. He was dressed as a paramedic and his van was disguised with holoprojectors as an ambulance. He looked down and double checked his target’s dossier. Clarice Willing was a sophomore at Boston U and had a tendency to go overboard at parties, weekly at that. She had recently caused a Sorority prospect to go into a coma during a hazing. She was arrested but was expected to get off with probation given that her parents were quite wealthy and had assembled a team of top notch attack dog lawyers. Luckily, as a condition of her pretrial release she had to wear a GPS tracker, a tracker that Chris easily hacked into thanks to the Amazon tech he had. He soon spotted his target, five foot eleven, skinny, long blonde hair. She was waiting at a bus stop, “Excuse me, ma’am.” He said getting out of the disguised van with a clipboard and pen, “You wouldn’t have happened to have called 911 to report a heart attack would you?”

“No.” Clarice barely looked up from her phone.

“Damn kids.” He sighed, “If you could just sign here stating that you are a witness to prank 911 call, I can get on my way.” He said as he moved to hand the clipboard and pen to her.

“Why would I do that?”

“New city policy, its to get witnesses incase we catch people who make the phony calls.” Chris chuckled as the girl took the clipboard and pen.

‘Fine, where do I sign?” she said as she hit send on a text and put her phone away and clicked the pen.

“Dotted line right at the bottom along with today’s date, March 3rd, 2027.” Chris said as the girl started to sign her name before tensing up like she was being shocking and starting to fall, “I gotcha.” He said as he started to drag her to the rear of the van. Chris had stopped feeling dirty about doing this kind of work ages ago, in some sick way this was likely the most justice the family of that prospect would get. The rear of the van held several panels and screens along with a few printer like objects. In the middle of the room was a steel and blue glass pod, a stasis pod provided by The Bureau. He quickly loaded the girl into the pod and set the clipboard and pen in a small case next to it. Thankfully the windchill and rain had kept most people inside so the streets were deserted and what few people did see them probably only saw a paramedic helping a drunk student.

“Alright, last one for the day.” He smiled and shut the doors on the van before hopping into the driver’s seat just as a bus turned the corner, “Right on schedule.” He turned the radio to the news as he pulled away from the stop. It was a ten minute drive to the nearest Bureau outpost.

“We return to our special report on the spike in missing person reports across the United States and Canada.” A voice on the radio said as a chain of commercials ended, “I’m Sarah Glassrocher and this year alone there have been almost three hundred reports of missing adults and teens since the year began and that number is set to just keep getting higher. With me is FBI special investigator Andy Myers and the mother of one of the missing, Joyce Halvage whose daughter, Mindy went missing three weeks ago. Both of you thank you for joining me.”

“Thank you Sarah.” A man said.

“Thank you.” A woman said with a bit of strain in her voice.

“Now, Joyce. I know it is hard for you but can you describe the circumstances surrounding your daughter’s disappearance?” The host asked.

“Well, I was talking with her as she was driving back from work when she said she was being pulled over. She said she would call me back after wards and that was the last I heard from her. After she didn’t call back after half an hour I called the police. They found her car two miles from our house, abandoned on the side of the road. They couldn’t recover much evidence because of the falling snow.” The woman sniffled and blew her nose.

“Heartbreaking, simply heartbreaking. Now, Agent Myers what is the FBI doing to try and solve these occurrences?”

“Well Sarah, the near lack of evidence has been our greatest obstacle. At every scene there is barely any evidence if at all. The vast majority of these abductions seem to be the work of pros.”

“There are some that point to The Bureau as the cause of these disappearances due to the fact there are often ambulances, police vehicles, and even hearses entering heavily guarded Bureau properties across the country. What is the FBI’s response to this?”

“The FBI has launched an investigation and when questioned the director of Bureau acquisitions said that The Bureau sticks to the quota that is cleared by the Justice Department and that any insinuation that they go over is an insult to their values. The Bureau has also denied us entry to any property owned by then and they have said that any attempt to gain access to the property, even by means of a warrant would be treated as a hostile act and they would end of technological aid to Earth and deploy Amazon elements to their properties.”

“And you backed off?” The host pressed the agent.

“Yes, we faced pressure from several different agencies as well as the UN. The technological aid that Amazonia is giving us is evidently too important to risk. However, The Bureau has stated that fifteen or so of the cases this year were their acquisitions department and those cases have been closed. “ The agent sighed.

“Now, what do you believe, personally?” The host asked.

“Personally… They aren’t telling us everything. Do I think the sudden uptick in reports is 100% because of The Bureau, no I do not. I think they go above their quote, however, there are probably some who join willingly. Whenever I pass by a Bureau recruitment building the lines are quite often out the door. I have friends who left the FBI and joined up with The Bureau as Security agents.”

“I see. Do you think this will have an impact on the scheduled visit to Earth by The Bureau’s board of directors in nine months?”

“Barring something major, I don’t think so.” He sighed.

“Thank you, and thank you too Joyce. We will return to those special report after this commercial break.”

Chris rolled his eyes as he turned the radio off, “Fucking idiots. Of course we are going over our quota. Last year I did almost one fifty.” He said as made the final turn, “Amazons want littles, The Bureau provides littles, Amazons pay The Bureau, The Bureau pays me and helps my family stay afloat.” He sighed a bit. He saw a bit of a crowd gathered outside the small compound, “Boston-1 this is Collector-3. Cargo is secured.” He said into a radio attached to the dashboard.

“I got eyes on Collector-3, as you can tell we have a bit of a situation here.” A female voice on the other end responded.

“Want me to divert to Boston-2?”

“Negative, we will send security out. You are clear to enter when the gate is opened.”

“Roger, see you soon Cindy.” He said as he set the radio down. Within a minute he saw several squads of Bureau security, all of them were littles just like him. They exited through the main gate and started to push back the protesters. Eventually the agents had to deploy their batons to give the fake ambulance enough time to get through to the game. Even still a few rocks definitely hit the side of the van, luckily none of the projectors were damaged. He quickly rolled into the compound and the agents followed him in, shutting the gate behind them. Chris pulled into an open garage and the doors shut behind him. He turned off the projectors, revealing the ambulance for what it really was, a black 2020 Ford Transit.

“How’d it go?” A woman in a beige pant suit and black hair walked towards her.

“Well, Cindy. I’m great, how are you?” He smiled.

“I’m good, thanks for asking. What about the girl?” She walked over to the back, her high heels clicking on the concrete floor of the garage.

“Piece of cake, got her with with the stunner pen and board. Barely anyone was there beyond a few bums and people who thought I was a real paramedic helping a drunk.”

“Good good. Who is next?” He said as a team started to unload the pod from his van.

“Actually, you are wanted in San Francisco.”

“Frisco?” He groaned, “That’s a three day drive! Why the hell am I needed on the west coast all of a sudden?”

“Dunno, this came through the portal so it must be important.” Cindy shrugged as the pod was wheeled out of the garage, “Come on, there should still be some chowder left.” She smiled and started to leave.

“Sounds good.” He smiled and followed her, “How are the number of volunteers looking?”

“Eh, it’s a trickle.” She chuckled, “I remember when we first opened the volunteer position. We had people on month long waiting lists just to put them in pods.” She said as she entered a kitchen where a pot of clam chowder was warming on a stove top, “But the demand is just going up and up.” She said as she filled two bowels, “We may need to relax our criteria a bit.” She handed a bowl to Chris as they sat down at a table.

“From what I heard from Daniels, it’s because the cost of keeping littles in Libertality and Galice is going down due to the product The Bureau pumps out and littles from those places aren’t in such big of a rush to get babied. “ Chris said as he started to eat.

“Yeah, any idea when migration between dimensions will open?”

“Probably after the trip by the directors, but here is the thing. Galice likely won’t allow a whole lot of littles to leave and I bet there won’t be a whole lot of Amazons coming over.” Chris sighed

“Yeah, there will probably be a few cases of Amazons snatching people here and taking them back home.” Cindy said as she wiped her face with a napkin.

“Oh yeah, fucking Amazons.” Chris sighed

End of Chapter

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Re: The Collector [Diaper Dimension]

Chapter One
Chris sighed as he relaxed in a Pacific Heights cafè, his overpriced coffee sitting on the table in a ceramic mug. He still had time before The Bureau’s compound opened for the day. The cross country drive from Boston to San Francisco normally took almost three days, but thanks to Amazonian energy supplements he was able to make to San Francisco in just under forty five hours.

“Chris? What are you doing here?” A familiar voice caused Chris to look up.

“Hey, Kyle. I got orders to be here.” He smiled at his fellow collector, Kyle Clemmons, a former NYPD beat cop.

“Shit, that all five of us are in the city.” Kyle sat down next to Chris with a mug in his hand.

“All five of the OGs?” Chris looked over at his coworker. In the months following first contact, The Bureau had expanded their collection force to around one hundred and fifty across three continents.

“Looks like it.” Kyle took a sip.

“Damn, think their retiring us?”

“Doubt it, we have too much experience. Worst case scenario is we get assigned to security or placed in a strictly advisory position.” Kyle said as he said his mug down, “How’s your family?”

“Lindsay got into UCLA and James is doing well in middle school.” He sighed, “I can only get so much information from Facebook. What about yours?”

“Katie remarried, that’s about it.” Kyle sighed, “God I miss Katie and the kids.”

“Yeah.” Chris nodded and raised his mug, “To us unfortunate sons, cheers.”

“Cheers.” Kyle smiled and tapped Chris’ mug.

The minutes passed by as Chris and Kyle chatted about assignments they had in the past, of course they kept the conversation quiet as to not draw attention to themselves. Soon it was about time for the compound to open. The two men paid for their drinks and left the cafe before getting into their vans and departing Pacific Heights for Union Square. The street that the compound was located on was bristling with security as usual. SFPD patrolled the streets and kept protests in line with Bureau security agents manned the gate. Fortunately there were no protesters today, the dreary whether paired with a sudden cold snap had kept many people inside.

“Collector 3 and Collector 4 for special request.” Chris said as he stopped at the gate.

“Yep, you two are the first to arrive.” The agent said as the gate was opened and the two vans drove into assigned parking spots.

“God, this place never changes.” Kyle said as he hopped out of the van. The Bureau’s compound had originally been a shopping mall, however, several years before first contact, the mall was bought up and shut down by a shell corporation. The mall was torn down and a castle like compound was constructed in its place. Massive reinforced concrete walls with barbed wire, guard towers, reinforced gate, massive buildings, and right in the middle of the compound was a large hanger. In the time leading up to first contact the place had been the topic of much debate, and anger. Some people thought it was a PMC base and that it ruined property values and wanted it to leave, while others thought it was a special testing facility and would bring jobs to the city. In the end both parties were wrong, especially when the first Amazons came through the portal with technology that helped seal the fate of fossil fuels and fight global climate change. Treaties were quickly signed and ratified by the government despite bipartisan opposition. Within weeks of the treaties being ratified recruitment depots for The Bureau started to pop up across the globe. Of course Chris had been preparing for first contact for awhile.

“Daniels is here.” Chris said as another van pulled into the compound.

“Hey Christie.” Kyle smiled as a woman exited the van

“Kyle, Chris. Good to see you two again.” Christie smiled as she walked towards them as a woman in a suit approached the group

“Excuse me you three. I have your special assignments ready.” The woman smiled.

“Aren’t we still missing two people?” Chris asked.

“Collectors 1 and 6 have encountered…difficulties making it here. So, we have to proceed without them.” She sighed, “Follow me.” The woman led the three collectors to a meeting room sized for littles, “Please, take a seat.”

“So, what is the new assignment?” Chris sighed as they all sat down.

“The Bureau has deemed it necessary to start recruiting collection agents from Amazonia.”

“So the big wigs think that fucking Amazons can do this job?” Christie leaned back in her chair.

“No, they recognize that Amazons would fail at collecting in this world, however, they see the benefit in those that have no personal connection to this world collecting, which is why we have decided to have a test run of Littles as collectors.” She gestured to a door as three littles came out, each one was wearing a white button down shirt with a black blazer. Two guys and a girl, “Each of these three will be shadowing one of you for a time in order to learn the ropes of the job and to learn about Earth.” She got out a PDA, “Myles is with Chris, Courtney is with Christie, and James is with Kyle. Each of you will be getting a target within the city limits to show the new recruits how it is done. Dismissed.” She nodded and left the room leaving the three suited littles to look at their trainers.

Chris sighed and leaned back in his chair, “Fucking babysitting duty.”

Christie sighed and tapped on her phone, “Courtney, lets go!”

“Y-yes ma’am!” A blonde haired woman stammered as she jogged over to Christie as she walked out of the room.

“James, lets move.” Kyle sighed and motioned for a black haired man to follow him out of the room. The only two people left in the room were Chris and Myles.

“I want to make it abundantly clear right now that I don’t hate you. I hate this assignment.” He sighed, “How much do you know?”

“Um, I was told you would do all of the training. Recon, acquisition, and extraction.” The blonde haired little replied.

“Great.” Chris sighed as he stood up, “Alright, follow me to the rig.” He said as he walked out of the room just in time to see the other two vans pull out of the compound, “Christ, those two are quick.” He said as he strolled over to his van and got in the driver’s seat.

“So this is a capture van.” Myles was in awe as he entered the passenger seat and shut the door behind him.

“Yep.” Chris nodded as he started to drive the van out of the compound, “So, where you from kid?”

“Galice.”

“Damn, thats where littles have to be registered to an Amazon or have special documents?”

“Yeah, but those documents aren’t that hard to get.” He said as he looked out the window at the San Francisco cityscape.

“So, what made you want to join the Bureau?”

“Money, my family runs a bakery in the capital city’s little district. Running the place has gotten more and more expensive. My sister she… she… put herself up for auction to help us keep it running.” He sighed and shook his head, “She got bought by some rich executive.”

“Damn, sorry to hear that. You still in contact with the rest of your family?”

“Yeah.”

Chris sighed, “Consider yourself lucky. All Earth born collectors have to be legally dead for safety reasons. Every single collector has had their deaths faked. For me it was a brain tumor, Amazon tech can do a whole lot of stuff but it can’t make you stop feeling. My family was crying their eyes out as I lied in a hospital bed with a fake brain tumor. It killed me, seeing them cry and knowing I could never contact them, if anyone knew what I did and that I was alive… they would be in danger.” He sighed as the center console beeped, “We got a job. Myles, what is the skinny?”

“Let’s see…” Myles examined the center console as a screen appeared from underneath the radio, “Alexis Kultz, 27, corner of Park and Main, OD. What does OD mean?”

“Do they not have drugs in Galice?” Chris sighed as he tapped buttons on the console causing a light to move over the outside of the van.

“No, the Amazons do not tolerate any drugs at all. They think it makes us unstable and troublesome.”

“Well still, you should still know what OD means. OD means a drug overdose.” He said as he flipped a switch turning on ambulance lights and sirens, “I’ve had the van switch to ambulance mode. Would you mind pushing that button right next to the radio, I need to focus on the road.” He started to smile as he accelerated and zipped through traffic.

“This one?” Myles asked as he pushed a button causing a line of light to pass over the two and turn their clothes into EMT uniforms.

“Bingo.” Chris smiled as he made a sharp turn and saw a parked car with a woman in business attire slumped over in it, “Did the report say what drugs she was using?” Chris said as he got out of the van before running to the back and throwing up the doors and grabbing a medical bag, briefly exposing a stasis tube.

“Um, no it doesn’t.” Myles said as he watched Chris run towards the car with the bag slung over his shoulder.

“Probably an opioid of somesort. Those have been popular for decades and opioids mean Amanarc.” He said as he got out a small plastic tube of the Amazon version of Narcan. Chris opened the door and placed one side of the tube on the woman’s thigh. A needle slid through the woman’s pantyhose and into her skin. After a minute the opposite end of the tube blinked red. Chris put the tube in a orange bag and set it in his medical bag, “Myles, help me get her into the tube.” Chris sighed as he cut the woman’s seat belt.

“Y-yes sir.” He said as he rushed over to the car.

“Don’t call me sir.” Chris said as she extracted the woman from the car and carried her to the back of the van with the help of Myles before loading her into the stasis tube.

“Is that it?” Myles asked as Chris shut the rear doors.

“Yep, that is a collection, now all that’s left is to bring her to a drop off point.” He smiled as he pulled out of the alleyway, “Think you can handle this job?”

“Yeah.”

“Good, because we need to bag about fifteen jobs tomorrow to make sure we beat Christie.”

1 Like

Re: The Collector [Diaper Dimension]

So I ran my eyes over this a few days ago. By all means, don’t take what I say as gospel — this isn’t really my genre — but I figured you’d want some kind of comment.

So, uh. Let me start with a graph to upset my seventh-grade math teacher, as it’s unlabelled, untitled, has no gradations, and is not drawn to scale. Enjoy.

This graph shows how I think people tend to progress in writing. They start out producing terrible dreck. After some practice, they manage to write stories that are technically lacking but enjoyable in their simplicity. Then, getting ambitious, they try something more advanced and — whoops — their stories suck again.

This is a gentle lead-in to say: I think you’re in the rut, superfunnel. It’s not a fun place to be. Everyone gets there, and not everyone gets out. There’s a lot you’re doing right. Obviously. You’re technically more advanced than most ABDL story writers, who are generally in the Early Competence stage. But overall, this doesn’t make an enjoyable read. I’m sure there are many merits in your story; but the flaws obscure them.

So I’m going to focus on what’s wrong.

The Two Big Things that Immediately Jump Out as Wrong.

Backstory. Please do NOT pre-load backstory. It kills a story stone dead. When in doubt, do not explain anything to the reader. Anything. Not only is it boring, but it robs the reader of the pleasant jigsaw-puzzling that all readers love to do. If something MUST be explained, explain it once it comes up in the story. This is especially important for science fiction, which can easily get waterlogged in exposition.

If you insist on explaining the entire world in the first chapter, my best advice is: run out to your local library and pick up The Hunger Games. (Don’t worry, they have a copy.) The first chapter is basically a clinic on the Branching Exposition Pattern™. The protagonist goes about a simple routine, and at each confusing world detail, the author takes a paragraph to explain it and how it affects the protagonist’s life. With this, you can convey a complicated premise without bludgeoning the reader with a textbook.

Note the “affects the protagonist’s life” part, because…

Character and Emotion. Fiction writing is an emotional medium. Does a paragraph or line of dialogue have an emotion? Does it convey a character’s mood or life situation? No? Delete it. Really, delete it. The emotion came be anything — wistful, goofy, ponderous, nihilistic, self-important, sarcastic, excited, frightened — but it has to be there. If your character is eating cereal, they better be reminiscing about good old times or irritated with the nasty fiber plus brand they’re wife is forcing on them. If two characters are talking about a calculus problem, one of them better be thinking about how calculus makes them feel stupid and how their Long Lost big brother was much smarter.

The two biggest emotions I detect here are gruffness and annoyance. The main character is just running through the motions of his job. These are the worst emotions to choose, because it makes the reader feel much the same… I think you’ve done it to add verisimilitude, and maybe are copying the hardboiled convention. But I think you look more closely, even in hardboiled fiction there will be a subtle drama or mood in the background.

If I had to make a specific recommendation without knowing the plot, try elevating Chris’s annoyance to world-weariness and cynicism. Convey an internal struggle to keep going. Let that soak the entire first chapter. Basically, start with a character and enter the story from there.

[HR][/HR]
Keep in mind I put some time into this comment. I don’t say this to imply some kind of debt, but to point out it’s much harder to write a negative critique than to gush at a story I like. I can’t guarantee I’ve identified the main problems. (That’s surprisingly difficult to pin down). I hope you don’t take this as mean-spirited. :slight_smile:

If anyone disagrees with me, please feel free to contradict. Good luck, in any case.

writing_skill.png

Re: The Collector [Diaper Dimension]

[QUOTE=donbiki;72022]So I ran my eyes over this a few days ago. By all means, don’t take what I say as gospel — this isn’t really my genre — but I figured you’d want some kind of comment.

So, uh. Let me start with a graph to upset my seventh-grade math teacher, as it’s unlabelled, untitled, has no gradations, and is not drawn to scale. Enjoy.

This graph shows how I think people tend to progress in writing. They start out producing terrible dreck. After some practice, they manage to write stories that are technically lacking but enjoyable in their simplicity. Then, getting ambitious, they try something more advanced and — whoops — their stories suck again.

This is a gentle lead-in to say: I think you’re in the rut, superfunnel. It’s not a fun place to be. Everyone gets there, and not everyone gets out. There’s a lot you’re doing right. Obviously. You’re technically more advanced than most ABDL story writers, who are generally in the Early Competence stage. But overall, this doesn’t make an enjoyable read. I’m sure there are many merits in your story; but the flaws obscure them.

So I’m going to focus on what’s wrong.

The Two Big Things that Immediately Jump Out as Wrong.

Backstory. Please do NOT pre-load backstory. It kills a story stone dead. When in doubt, do not explain anything to the reader. Anything. Not only is it boring, but it robs the reader of the pleasant jigsaw-puzzling that all readers love to do. If something MUST be explained, explain it once it comes up in the story. This is especially important for science fiction, which can easily get waterlogged in exposition.

If you insist on explaining the entire world in the first chapter, my best advice is: run out to your local library and pick up The Hunger Games. (Don’t worry, they have a copy.) The first chapter is basically a clinic on the Branching Exposition Pattern™. The protagonist goes about a simple routine, and at each confusing world detail, the author takes a paragraph to explain it and how it affects the protagonist’s life. With this, you can convey a complicated premise without bludgeoning the reader with a textbook.

Note the “affects the protagonist’s life” part, because…

Character and Emotion. Fiction writing is an emotional medium. Does a paragraph or line of dialogue have an emotion? Does it convey a character’s mood or life situation? No? Delete it. Really, delete it. The emotion came be anything — wistful, goofy, ponderous, nihilistic, self-important, sarcastic, excited, frightened — but it has to be there. If your character is eating cereal, they better be reminiscing about good old times or irritated with the nasty fiber plus brand they’re wife is forcing on them. If two characters are talking about a calculus problem, one of them better be thinking about how calculus makes them feel stupid and how their Long Lost big brother was much smarter.

The two biggest emotions I detect here are gruffness and annoyance. The main character is just running through the motions of his job. These are the worst emotions to choose, because it makes the reader feel much the same… I think you’ve done it to add verisimilitude, and maybe are copying the hardboiled convention. But I think you look more closely, even in hardboiled fiction there will be a subtle drama or mood in the background.

If I had to make a specific recommendation without knowing the plot, try elevating Chris’s annoyance to world-weariness and cynicism. Convey an internal struggle to keep going. Let that soak the entire first chapter. Basically, start with a character and enter the story from there.

[HR][/HR]
Keep in mind I put some time into this comment. I don’t say this to imply some kind of debt, but to point out it’s much harder to write a negative critique than to gush at a story I like. I can’t guarantee I’ve identified the main problems. (That’s surprisingly difficult to pin down). I hope you don’t take this as mean-spirited. :slight_smile:

If anyone disagrees with me, please feel free to contradict. Good luck, in any case.[/QUOTE]

thank you. First off I would like to say that I was in a bit of a rut when I was writing this chapter and to be totally honest I’m not in love with this story. I may keep it on the back burner for a bit and see if I want to come back to it. I think i should be focusing my writing efforts on Tales