#i need those extra days long lifespan gives me to have days where nothing happens

[apricote]

thinking about how normal lifespan would probably be a nightmare legacy for me

[sunflowerstache]

Lifespan

A/N: Hello! This is very different from most of my writing, not only because its an OC, but because the storyline is just something out of my comfort zone. But I really hope you enjoy it(: I got the inspiration from a ad I saw on Facebook a long time ago lmao but yeah, come say hi once you’ve read it and tell me what you think! It’s much appreciated! I love you all so very much! Also hugeeeee shoutout to @devil-in-bw-the-sheets​ for spending like six months reading and re-reading this every single time I rewrote it and changed things and encouraging me each time! And @emotionally-imbruised​ for beta reading it for me!💛💛

Word Count: 7.3k

“Doll?”

The fog that seemed to have settled over your mind instantly melted away upon hearing the barista’s voice, her sweet drawl grounding your focus back on her. She was an older woman, probably nearing her sixties based on the collection of grey hairs scattered throughout her small ponytail. But still so incredibly full of life. She had red glasses perched atop her nose - which perfectly completed the red polka dots covering her black dress - a beaded chain dangling from the end to the front of the frame, a pair of silver peace sign studs resided in her ears, and the anatomically correct symbol for caffeine dangled in necklace form on her chest.

“What? I’m sorry.”

“Just asked if you wanted the cream on that.” She smiled, thin lines spreading out and away from the sides of her eyes as her mouth widened. Upon glancing down quickly, you took notice of her clearly hand drawn name tag filled with swirling letters - different then when you stopped by earlier in the week when she had used stickers to spell out “Rita”.

“Oh, um yeah sure. Why not.”

“My husband always says that during weather like this, the calories don’t count. That they disappear with your shivering. Can I just have your name, dear?”

“Georgie. And your husband sounds like a very smart man.”

“Oh, he is.” A dreamy look took over Rita’s features, like just thinking about the man made her heart race. “Been together for forty-two years and he still teaches me new things.”

Your heart ached with each word; the fog slowly started to creep back through your mind while you watched her grin fondly. The hope and excitement for the future that was always so very clear in people’s eyes was what made it so hard not to explain everything you knew, every secret you held. However, as much as you wanted to urge everyone to live the life they’ve always wanted, you knew there was a natural balance to life, and opening your mouth would undoubtedly throw that balance off. So instead, you grinned and nodded your head.

“He sounds wonderful.”

“My best friend. Counting down the minutes until the end of my shift. We’re heading up to see our grandbabies for the week.” It was like she knew exactly what kind of secret you were keeping and made sure to hit you where it hurt each time she opened her mouth. As if her being impossibly sweet didn’t hurt enough.

“That sounds nice.” Digging around in your bag for your wallet made it much easier not to focus on the ticking time bomb in front of you. “How much do I owe you?”

“Oh my! I’m sorry, I know I can’t talk forever if no one stops me.” her laugh was soft, inviting, one you would love to listen to while storytelling. “It’s four pounds.”

“You can keep the change.” You said when handing her some cash, but stopped yourself before you turned to walk away. Even if you weren’t ever going to outright explain anything to anyone, slipping in tiny, reassuring comments made you feel at least a little better before parting ways. “Have an amazing night with your family Rita.”

The coffee shop was relatively empty at the hours you stopped by. Other than the same group of men that were there every morning, chatting over the newspaper and a black coffee and a young nurse who was just getting off of her night shift, only customers on their way to work stopped by. But that was just how you preferred it. It was much easier to avoid running into people when the sun had barely just peeked over the morning horizon. You suppose the city isn’t exactly the best place to reside when you’re on a mission not to get close to anyone, but you’d much preferred the hustle and bustle of the city than the silence of the countryside. At least here you were able to escape your thoughts when they got to be too much, out there you were left to drown in the weights you held.

Rita was right when she said the weather would bring shivering. The moment you stepped through the café doors, all sense of warmth you previously had was sucked out of you, leaving the tips of your fingers tingling against the warm cup. You hadn’t ever really gotten to know the woman behind the counter, a few kind greetings every now and again, but she seemed to be someone who brought a lot of joy to those around her. And she always put extra chocolate curls on your drink. You made a mental note to send some flowers to her family within the coming days.

It was a car horn that initially took your attention off of the pavement, turning to look for who was in such a rush at 5:30am, but the hard torso smacking into her shoulder is what brought your attention back. Followed by the searing heat of your hot chocolate spilling down your front.

“Oh fuck!” you yelled, immediately dropping the paper cup and trying to pull your shirt away from your body to decrease the chance of a burn. There goes your chance to get home and drive right to work without any issue.

“Oh my god! Oh shit!” the man that had ran into you gasped, stopping in his tracks and grabbing onto your elbow to steady your wild movements.

Even though his words were quite loud on the empty street, his voice was still husky, almost like he wasn’t awake yet and still had some left over sleep in his throat. And when you turned to look at who had ruined your shirt, your own voice got stuck in your throat. He was tall, which made sense considering your head had bounced right off of his chest. He was wearing black basketball shorts with tall white socks and a light grey hoodie, which was pulled up to cover the dark grey beanie resting on his head. With one hand he was holding a water bottle with ease, while the other was frantically pulling the airpod from his ear. But apart from his sheer stature, you couldn’t ignore how beautiful this man was. How even the worry lines littering his face were perfectly accenting his features. Or how the green of his eyes seemed to sparkle in the dim light of the Whole Foods you had been stopped in front of.

“I’m so sorry! Shit are you okay?” he quickly asked, shaking his head before you could even respond. “Obviously not, that was probably hot. Oh god I’m so sorry!”

Finally getting your bearings back, you couldn’t help but nod. “Yeah it was pretty hot.”

“Shit, I don’t even know how that happened. I must’ve taken my eyes off the pavement for one second. I’m so sorry.”

“So you’ve said.” You chuckled, bending down to pick up your now empty cup at your feet and tossing it in the bin by your side. “Don’t worry about it. Really it’s fine.”

“It’s not, I’ve ruined your shirt.” If the disappointment in his voice wasn’t evident enough, the small pout on his lips definitely was. He looked absolutely distraught at the sight of what he’d done. “Let me at least get you a new drink. It’s the least I could do.”

“Oh, um, that’s alright.” You’d always known it was rude to speak to someone and not give them eye contact, it was something your father had drilled into you as a child, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Looking someone in the eyes meant seeing above their head, and that was an area you actively tried to avoid looking. But there was something about him that drew you in, and you couldn’t help glancing up at him quickly again. ��I actually have to be getting to work. Thanks though.”

“Are you sure? I feel terrible.”

“Positive. Have a good morning.” Your touch was soft on his arm as you made your way past him, leaving the mystery man standing on the pavement staring as you walked towards your flat.

You didn’t mean to be so short with him, but it’s just how you’d grown accustomed to living life. It was the easiest way you found not to get close to many people, which meant less hurt in the end. And you’d been around enough hurt in your short twenty three years. It may be a lonely life, but you were happy with your cat, comically named Lucifer, and living a simple life. Sure, there were times you wished you could live the carefree life everyone around you got to experience, your only issues being stresses of work or relationship drama, but that wasn’t who you were. After living the life you did, there’d be no way you could live a normal life.

“Don’t give me that look, Luci.” you grumbled when walking through your front door, your cat perched on the dining table just watching as you moved through the living room, ripping your destroyed shirt from your body. “This wasn’t my fault.”

You’re sure that you looked like a crazy person if anyone was watching on, talking to your cat while walking around your flat in nothing but a pair of black slacks and a bra. But you didn’t care, because this was your normal. You ranted to her after a long day at work or a particularly draining day, and she always sat and listened. Mostly because she was a cat.

“He just ran right into me, like he literally couldn’t see me. How odd, right?” you stopped briefly while searching your closet for a new shirt. “God Luci, he was cute though. So cute. And tall.”

Just because you secluded yourself in the world didn’t mean you didn’t enjoy taking a peak at what it had to offer. It was the forming relationships that put you off, not because there was a level of uncertainty - nothing was uncertain to you - but because you always knew the timeline of said relationships. It was always the same. So why put yourself through it? But also, why not? What if that was just what you needed to make such a painful existence a little more bearable?

“I didn’t even get his name. Maybe I’ll see him around the cafe sometime.” you hummed, throwing the new peach colored blouse over your head and peeking your face out of the hole. “No. No Georgie, don’t go there. Who are we kidding, it’s not like anything could ever happen anyway.”

Lucifer meows loudly at your comment., making you turn around to glare at her. Obviously she didn’t know what was actually going on, but it was nice to entertain the idea of someone listening to your problems and helping you talk them out. You were a secluded young woman, not crazy.

“What? Like I’m wrong? It’s not something I’d be able to keep from a boyfriend forever. And It’s not like I’d be able to just flat out tell them.”

She meowed again, jumping off the table and prancing her way to your feet, rubbing her side against your ankles.

“What would I even say? Hey, I was born with this thing where I can see a floating clock above everyone’s head that literally counts down to the day you die? Yeah because that won’t get me sent to the looney bin.”

From the start of time, there has always been a beginning and an end to everything. No matter if it was an Oscar award winning film, delicate relationships, or even life itself, it all ended. People come, and they go, but the world continues on; taking care of those who stay to see another day. And on a daily basis, the idea of the end rarely floats through anyone’s mind. Except for you.

For you, it was impossible not to think about when it was quite literally staring you in the face. For as long as you could remember, you walked through life with a different outlook on the end than most other people.It wasn’t because you had some near death experience, but due to a gift. Or at least what some people in the world would consider a gift, because in no way would you call being able to see the exact day someone is going to die, a gift.

It was something that over the years you had grown to ignore, trying not to look too far away from people’s eyes and never thinking too hard about the ticking numbers.They weren’t obnoxious or flashy signs hanging above everyone’s heads - like you had seen some films try and depict - but instead, just a simple, faint, white clock just above the tops of everyone’s head, showing each individual’s lifespan. No matter how many hours you sat down and tried to rationalize why you were able to see this, there was never any answer. No one else in your family carried the burden, and because of that, you never mentioned it to anyone in fear of sounding crazy. But you knew you weren’t crazy, not when you prayed night after night for those numbers to disappear or for someone’s clock to be wrong, only to be let down.

You knew you weren’t crazy when you finally saw your favorite florist Don after he spent some time away, and his clock suddenly read 3 years, 20 days, 6 hours, 42 minutes, and 6 seconds instead of the 27 years you had grown used to seeing on him every day before he left. It didn’t take long for you to find out he was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer and treatments had stopped working.

You knew you weren’t crazy when you got to watch Kim’s clock - the very sweet receptionist at your job - begin to slow down the more she adjusted to a healthy lifestyle of eating right and taking care of her body. What was once a ticking time of a measly 21 years adjusted what would be a long and fulfilled 59 years more.

And you knew you weren’t crazy when at only seventeen years old, you watched as your best friend’s clock suddenly dwindled down to zero’s across the board like a slot machine while laying on the bathroom floor of a house party. The drugs in her system being too much for her young body to handle and completely consuming the 72 years she once had left.

You weren’t crazy, you just carried a burden no one should ever have. And because of it, you made sure not to get close to anyone in fear of watching yet another clock strike zero.

So you moved on with your life, forgetting all about the tall man who had spilled your drink and run into your mind, making you think things you hadn’t in so long, and instead, focused solely on getting through your days at work and getting back home. It was an easy routine, one you hadn’t strayed from much since moving to the city six years ago; wake up, feed Luci, get coffee, go to work, go home, shower, watch tv, go to bed. And as happy as you were that life wasn’t so painful these days, boring would be the only word good enough to describe your life.

Until your neighbors moved in.

You were standing in the kitchen, lifting the collar up to your mouth to try and quickly lick the hot sauce off the old, ratty Elton John Tour shirt you were wearing before it left a stain, wearing nothing else but some shorts, a nice pair of cheetah print slippers to cover your chilly toes, and one of the two hundred paper face masks you’d ordered off of Amazon in an attempt to clear your skin, when the loud bang on your front door startled you. Not only did your family not live in town, but your neighbors knew that you weren’t a people person. Ever since you made that very clear to them upon moving in, they hadn’t tried to contact you, so you just assumed whoever it was had gotten the wrong flat number.

But the knocking persisted.

Lucifer’s head had picked up from her lap upon hearing the first knock, now watching as you made our way closer to the front door. “What do I do?” but the only response you received was her head tilting to the right, like she was saying ‘Really? Answer it you idiot.’

You wanted to be angry, you really did, because you were nearly ready to be completely settled in for the night after a terribly long day and you just wanted to watch some bad tv with Luci, but the moment you twisted the door knob and peered into the hallway, any anger you had felt, completely washed away.

“Hey! Sorry, my mates and I-” he abruptly stopped mid sentence once his eyes landed on you, like his train of thought literally face planted into a brick wall. A look of realization flashed across his face quickly, and in a matter of milliseconds, what was once stress turned into a look of excitement. “Hey! It’s you!” he smiled.

“It’s me.” something about him made it very difficult for you not to mirror his smile, but that desire was overpowered by the confusion coursing through your mind.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again! I still feel terrible about what happened, are you sure you were alright? You didn’t burn yourself, did you?” The man was incredible at changing his emotions at the drop of a dime, for now his eyes were laced with concern where excitement had just lived. “Or I guess I should say I didn’t burn you, did I?”

He was much more put together this time, the workout attire you had last seen him in was traded in for a pair of light red slacks that looked to be a crushed velvet material paired with a plain white t-shirt and a pair of black vans. He looked like any university boy you’d see walking the streets, but at the same time, like nothing you had ever seen before. Something about him standing in your doorway brought you a sense of calm, like just his presence was enough to wash away the stresses of your day.

“I mean I can’t say that it felt particularly good, but I didn’t get burned, no.”

“Oh good. That’s good.” he nodded, and you made the mistake of following his hand with your eyes as he lifted it up to his curls to fix the glasses perched on his head. You didn’t want to know, didn’t want to see what kind of fate the universe had in store for him because the peace he had brought to you in the few moments he’d been standing there felt better than anything had in the past few years. But you were never that lucky.

Your eyes quickly casted back down, looking back at the white of his shirt while you cleared your throat. “Did you need something….” you dragged out the end of the word to indicate that you didn’t know what to call him since he hadn’t bothered to mention his name.

“Oh, right. ‘M Harry.”

“Georgie.

“Hello Georgie.” if possible, the grin on his face doubled in size, causing two dimples to appear at the corners and the air in your chest to feel as though it was tightening.

The two of you stood in your doorway without saying anything for another moment before you spoke up; “So did you need something or…”

“Fuck, yeah.” his voice was breathy when he responded, standing up straighter, “My mates and I just saw you come home and we’re in desperate need of a needle and thread. You’ve got one?”

It only took a second for him to realize his words and that surprised look from when you first opened the door was back. His eyes widened and his hands raised in front of him as a way to stop you before you could respond.

“Not in a creepy way! We weren’t like watching you or summat, swear! My mates Niall and Louis just moved in across the hall.” using his thumb he pointed to the open door across the hall where you could see two other guys watching yours and Harry’s interaction. Upon realizing they were spotted, they raised their hands in a small wave. “We heard you come in. Not that we were actively listening! Just - ‘m sorry. I swear we aren’t creeps.”

“Good. Thought I’d have to sic my monster of a dog on you.” you replied, turning to dig through the small table in what could barely be considered an entryway. The table had started out as a place to keep your keys and mail, but like most did, quickly turned into a junk drawer. An abyss to put any and everything only to never see it again.

Harry’s eyes frantically looked behind you like some crazy monster was about to lunge at him for bothering you at night, even going as far as taking a small step back when the door opened a bit wider while you were looking for the tool. You laughed when glancing up quickly at the movement. It was obvious he was panicking at the new information of potentially getting mauled by a massive dog while simply asking for thread. So you put him out of his misery.

“There’s no dog. I’m just joking…”

As if on cue, Lucifer waltzed up to see what was going on at the front door, her small body weaving between your legs to get a nice scratch while checking out the never before seen man. “Oh! A cat! I love cats!”

“Yeah she’s pretty great.” you nodded, closing the drawer and holding your hand out to Harry. “Here you go. Um, not sure what colour you need so you can just take the whole bag.”

“You’re a lifesaver, thank you! Niall has a date in ten minutes and he’s split his only good pair of trousers.” he turned his head to look over his shoulder at the boys inside the other flat, trying to seem like they weren’t listening to the conversation, but very obviously doing just that. “Have to sew him in like ‘m some sort of tailor.” he chuckled, turning back to face you.

“Sounds like an exciting night.”

“Oh riveting. I would ask if you’d like to join but you look very busy-” the corners of his lips were trying hard not to curl upwards with the light sarcasm, wobbling a bit as he continued speaking, “-so I wouldn’t want to interrupt anymore than I already have. I’m sure I’ll see you again, I practically live with these two idiots.”

“‘M sure I will.” Luci hadn’t left your side since joining you at the door, instead, she began meowing quite loudly, so you bent down to scoop her into your arms.

You liked Harry, not only because he was a very obviously a good looking man, but because he seemed to pick up on your social cues fairly quickly. He didn’t linger and try to get as much out of you as possible or make the fact that you clearly didn’t have much interest in talking uncomfortable. And it was the first time in a long time that you felt content being around someone. Not fearing what the future brought.

Harry halted his movements halfway between flats and spun back around quickly. He didn’t say anything at first, just watched you press kisses to Lucifer’s head while standing in the doorway. Something you gathered from the very brief times you’d shared an encounter was that Harry was not very good at hiding his emotions. It was almost like he had no control of his mouth, because you could see him try to stop the smile from spreading, but it was no use. The dimples popped out in full force.

“I still owe you for that coffee.”

“Oh, um not a coffee.”  you tried not to be loud enough for him to hear, noting that the fact that it wasn’t a coffee was not really that important, but he heard you anyway.

“Pardon?”

“Just um, it wasn’t a coffee. More of a hot chocolate drinker actually.”

He didn’t respond right away, instead just continued watching you with fond eyes and a now very prominent smile. You felt as though he could sense how out of touch with relationships you had begun to get over the years. What other explanation could he have for being so soft with someone he had just met and barely even known

“Right, well keep your schedule open so I can take you out for that replacement cocoa.”

Your door swiftly closed the second he turned back around, not leaving any extra seconds for him to turn around and look at you again. And the second she heard the click of the lock, Luci leaped out of your arms and made her way over to the sofa, meowing her entire journey.

“Yes that was him.” another meow. “I told you he was cute, and I also told you nothing would be happening there.”

Harry wasn’t lying when he said you’d be seeing him again. It seemed as though every day when you got back to your flat, he was there. Sometimes on his way out, other times just standing outside the door waiting for the other boys. And despite how at peace being around Harry had made you feel that day he came knocking at your door, you never put in much more effort than a “hello” here and there. He and the others had tried quite a few times to get you to join them on their night out, but each time you came up with a different excuse. Even if they were comforting, what was the point in forming that friendship when you knew you’d just isolate yourself again eventually. You had made it this long without getting too close to anyone else, and you weren’t going to start just because two attractive lads moved in across the hall who happened to have a very fit, very inviting, friend.

It wasn’t until nearly a month later that you actually had a full conversation with Harry again.

Typically you tried not to go to the coffee shop by your flat any later than lunchtime because it just got too busy. There were too many people for you to fully avoid them all and seeing too many clocks dampened your mood significantly. But you had already had a shitty morning and needed something to give you a boost.

The place had felt very melancholy since Rita’s unfortunate passing last month, she’d passed peacefully in her sleep while spending time with her family. You’d sent the family flowers as remembered, and also made sure to drop a few bills in the jar on the counter each time you’d been in the shop. Other employees were setting up a fund for Rita’s family since she was such a loved member of the community just with the joy she brought from behind the counter.

“Just a large hot chocolate for me, please.”

“For here or take away?”

“Take away please.”

“Actually she’ll have that for here, please.” a familiar voice behind you spoke up as you were digging through your bag for your wallet. You could see him out of the corner of your eye move from his spot behind you, to gradually standing next to you, looking directly at the barista behind the counter.

“Um..” you felt bad for the young kid, he couldn’t be any older than eighteen and all he wanted to do was get to work and get out. But here you were making his day more stressful than it needed to be. “So… for here then?”

“Harry I -”

“Come on Georgie. Please.” never in your life had you seen a grown man bat his eyelashes, but here he was, trying to lure you in with his breathtaking green eyes.

“Fine.” your voice came out soft and you rolled your eyes, but on the inside you felt giddy, like what you remember life to feel like before you started isolating yourself. “Um, sorry. I’ll have it for here I suppose.”

“Do you want the cream?”

“Sure. Thank you.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes, I’ll have a -” Harry’s profile was something you could get lost in. How the tip of his nose seemed to bounce with every word he said, how it looked as if his lips were made to form the words falling from between them, or how no matter how many times he tried to get it to stay back, one of his curls would continue to break loose from the rest and fall past his forehead. From what little you’ve seen of it, Harry had a great sense of fashion. Comfortable. A brown teddy bear jumper was covering his upper body, sleeves long enough to gather just past his hands and torso short enough that you could see his white shirt peeking out from underneath, ripped black jeans, a pair of black chelsea boots, and  those same tortoise shell glasses perched on his nose completed his look.  

“Ready?”

“Huh?”

“You ready? ‘ve got a table back by the door.”

The two of you made your move to walk back towards the front of the shop, but you halted in your tracks when you saw that yes, he in fact did have a table waiting for him, but it was also being inhabited by the two boys you had seen behind him when he came to ask for thread. Neal and Liam? And a girl was sitting between the two as they chatted amongst themselves.

“Harry I don’t -”

“Come on, I promise we don’t bite.” Apparently you still didn’t look convinced because he leaned down to be at your eye level and stuck his lip out in a pout. “One drink. Please? I owe you remember?”

“Yes and you’ve already bought me a new one, thank you by the way, so you don’t owe me anything else.”

“I know.” the apples of his cheeks began getting pinker the longer he stared at you, “But I’d very much like to spend some time with you.”

Just like he did when he knocked on your door, his eyes widened and immediately seemed to want to backtrack what he had said. “Wait no, not in that way. In like a ‘hey I think you’re cute -’ no fuck that’s not -”

“Harry.”

“Yes?”

“One drink.”

The relief was instant on his features, his shoulders sagging and eyebrows un-furrowing at your words. “Good. Afraid my mates were going to start thinking I made you up.”

“I live across the hall, they’ve seen me.”

“Well yeah, but I talk about you so much they thi- I - fuck.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that fell from between your lips. You may not have had many friendships or relationships of any kind, but you did know excessive rattling wasn't generally how people spoke to one another.  “You babble a lot.”

“Only when ‘m nervous.”

“Why are you nervous?”

Harry wasted no time in his response, taking a quick glance over to you. “Because I finally get to spend time with the pretty girl across the hall.”

The heat rushing to your cheeks had become something of a common occurrence when speaking with Harry. It wasn’t obvious if he knew what he was doing or not, but you couldn’t imagine someone like Harry not knowing how to flirt. Thankfully, however, someone from the table spoke up before you could dwell on his comment longer than necessary.

“Finally!” the man sitting at the end of the booth spoke. He was dressed very similar to Harry in color - a tan quilted shirt was hidden beneath a cream colored teddy bear jacket, and pleated brown trousers. The light facial hair stubbled along his cheeks made him look slightly older than Harry, but his complete baby face counteracted that.

Harry looked at you briefly, raising his eyebrows with a ‘what did I tell you?’ kind of look as he bent down to slide into the booth next to the other man. His style was much different than the other two, more streetwear. He was wearing black trackies and an old gray band tee under a denim jacket, baseball hat and the very apparent smell of cigarettes finishing off the outfit. Another difference with him was that he had a girl with him. What you assumed to be his girlfriend by the way her head was resting on his shoulder and his hand fell on her knee. She was beautiful, long brown hair fell loose around her shoulders, only kept back by the fragile looking sunnies that rested at the top of her head. She was wearing a simple white top and a pair of white,black, and brown plaid trousers, both of which were overshadowed by the beautiful black Balenciaga jacket hanging off of her shoulders.

“Was starting to think you’d been lying about actually knowing her, Haz.” the one closest to Harry spoke, earning a light slap to his chest from the girl on his shoulder.

Harry disregarded all of their antics and turned to pat the seat next to him, indicating he wanted you to sit down, and he gave you a reassuring nod when you nibbled your lower lip between your teeth.

It was subtle acts like Harry letting you sit on the outside of the booth so you could make a quick getaway if needed that reminded you how easily he seemed to pick up on your social cues - even if you didn’t realize you did them. It made your chest tickle that even just from the two substantial conversations you’d had with him, Harry picked up on things you did.

“Piss off.” Harry chuckled, reminding you a lot of friendships you’d seen on tv where they all take the piss but it was easy to see that they all cared for one another. It was something you’d always been envious of while watching the world from the sidelines. “Georgie, this is Niall, Louis, and Louis’ girlfriend Eleanor. Everyone, this is Georgie.”

You were met with a chorus of hellos and you would’ve loved to just jump right into their conversation about the best places to get guacamole, just so that they knew you weren’t intentionally being rude to them. But not only were you not good at this conversation thing, but you also were still on edge about forming any sort of connection with these people. Apparently you should get used to Harry and his all knowing mind, because before you could excuse yourself from the awkwardness, he spoke up.

“So, how long have you lived in the building?”

Unprepared for the question, you froze for a second. “Oh, um going on six years now.”

“Impossible! What are you, like twenty? No way you’ve lived there that long!” Eleanor asked, her head no longer on Louis’ shoulder, instead she was sitting upright and looking directly at you. Of course, over the span of the years, you had gotten quite good at looking at people without really paying any attention to what was only visible to you above their heads, but it still made you uneasy. The best solution was just not to look at them at all. But these people, people who had no idea who you were a mere ten minutes ago yet were now welcoming you into their lives, made you want to work on avoiding the numbers. Because this was the most alive you’d felt in years.

“‘M twenty three. Be twenty four next Friday.”

“No shit! Alright well I’m coming over so you can teach me your skincare routine because you look flawless.” she gleamed, leaning forward on the table to jot down her phone number on one of the many spare napkins littering the tabletop.

“As much as I love a good skincare routine, let’s not skip over the more important part of that sentence. Your birthday is next week?” Harry asked, gently shoving his shoulder against yours and offering a kind smile when you glanced up at him.

“Oh, it’s not a big deal. I haven’t really celebrated my birthday since I turned like eleven.” your parents used to throw you a party every year while growing up, a lavish over the top kind of party where all of your classmates were invited and family you had never even heard of pinched your cheeks. But as time went on and you didn’t give up your ‘ridiculous fantasy’ as your mother so kindly put it, they began to stop throwing the party. Now, you were lucky if they sent you a card on the day. Plus, celebrating your birthday alone is kind of a downer.

“You haven’t celebrated your birthday in over a decade?” Niall’s mouth hung open like that was the craziest thing he’d ever heard.

“Nope.”

“Well that just won’t do.” you may not know very much about the people seated around you, but the smirk on Louis’ face told you everything you needed to know. “We’re having a party.”

“Um, thank you. Really. But parties aren’t really my thing. Plus I’m working that day so…”

“Oh, where do you work?” Harry asked, thoroughly interested in where you spend most of your days.

“Good Samaritan.”

“The nursing home down on Adams?”

“That’s the one. I’m a caregiver.” when you first applied for the position, you thought you were crazy. For someone who doesn’t want to get close to anyone in fear of their untimely demise, you definitely went for a job exactly the opposite. But that was the appeal to you. Sure, it was terribly sad to see one of your patients pass, but in the time leading up to it, you knew exactly who needed a little extra love. It was nice to be able to remind their loved ones to visit while making routine phone calls, and to do things to make them smile in what only you knew were their last days. It was the only time you thought what you were born with was some kind of gift. The tiniest most unwelcomed gift.

“That’s wonderful.” Harry’s voice was gently next to you, like he was hanging on to every short word that you said.

“Well, we’ll just have a party once you’re done with work.” Louis shrugged, but held his hands up when you opened your mouth to remind him you didn’t want anything. “Not a party, a friendly get together with friendly neighbors and alcohol.”

That day in the cafe was the beginning to a new start for you.

Obviously Lucifer had to hear about everything that happened that afternoon, but she was there to experience it first hand when Eleanor came knocking on your door the following day. She got to watch as you bent over in genuine laughter at your shared banter. She watched from the kitchen counter as Harry came by with food one night, saying he just happened to order extra lo mein and heard you come home. And as the two of you sat in the living room watching Big Brother, talking about everything from your favorite color to why he majored in physical therapy in university. Luci got to watch you break out of the shell you’d worked so hard on forming around you, and even though you knew she couldn’t understand what was happening, you liked to think her frequent meows were those of encouragement.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” The yells came from all corners of the room when you walked into Louis’s flat the following Friday, making your eyes widen and shoulders straighten. As much progress as you’d been making in your life, with branching out and slowly losing your fear of connection, it would take more than a week to crack down those barriers you’d built so high for so long.

“Thank you.” you laughed, putting down the bottle of wine you’d brought just in time for everyone to start surrounding you in hugs.

“Happy Birthday, love.” Harry’s voice was soothing in your ear, like a sense of relief in the overstimulation the other three had given you. You didn’t regret their company like you would have only a month ago, instead you welcomed the foriegn feelings. But it was still nice to have a moment of calm to fully process everything.

“Thank you Harry.”

“I hope it’s not too much. I told them to cool it on the balloons and confetti - especially since we all know I’ll be the one to pick it up in the morning.” he laughed, offering you a glass of wine that everyone else seemed to already be enjoying.

“No, no, it’s great. A nice segway from doing nothing every year.”

“Still can’t believe you haven’t celebrated your birthday in so long! That’s a day that should be celebrated by everyone!”that same look you’d grown to quite enjoy flashed over his features, his momentary distress as he realized he said something he wasn’t planning on sharing. But the look disappeared when he saw your knowing smile. “Don’t start.”

As promised, there was no party, per say. Everyone was just scattered around Louis’ living room telling stories about absolutely nothing that had everyone in stitches. It was the kind of party you’d always been envious of, one where mates could hang out and lose themselves in the company of each other. It was the first time you didn’t have a single thought about impending doom for more than an hour, a feit you would be sure not to forget.

Niall was laid out on the floor under the windows, a half empty bottle of rum in his hand and the other rested on his stomach, occasionally itching an invisible nuisance. Louis was seated in the arm chair directly across from Niall, a very buzzed Eleanor draped across his lap and the more the night went on, the less chances you had of seeing their faces separated. And Harry was seated next to you on the sofa, his arm hung on the back of the cushion in such a way that everyone so often you would feel the very tips of his fingers skim the exposed skin on your shoulder.

You wished you could freeze this moment in time, because a photograph or video would never do it justice. It was almost as if you were watching the night play out in front of you like a movie, not really in your body but watching from afar. Watching as the girl who hid herself from the world began to hatch, slowly cracking the hard exterior surrounding her. And you would do anything to bottle the feeling of pride that swelled in your chest knowing you had achieved that.

“Literally right in the face mate. No joke.” Niall cackled, his laugh a contrast in that moment; escaping his mouth loudly but carrying throughout the room softly. Taking off like a leaf blowing through the fall breeze.

“Georgie.” your name slipped from between Harry’s lips beautifully, like he was created for the sole purpose of saying your name over and over again; forever. “Alright?”

And sitting in the living room of Louis’ flat, listening to your friends’ wine induced giggles, looking at the most captivating pair of green eyes and curly hair that only whatever magical being that was above could’ve created, you were alright. You were so alright that the minuscule ticks of the clocks of your new and only friends, ticks you tried so hard to avoid paying attention to, almost seemed to disappear completely. Almost.

71 years, 2 months, 10 days, 3 hours, 16 minutes, 55 seconds. 68 years, 11 months, 3 days, 19 hours, 43 minutes, 2 seconds. 68 years, 7 months, 21 days, 1 hour, 58 minutes, 33 seconds. 62 years, 8 months, 9 days, 11 hours, 12 minutes, 2 seconds. 2 years, 1 month, 30 days, 23 hours, 34 minutes, 56 seconds.

[jaskierswolf]

A Thirst Like Flames

Part 3/6  (1, 2 - 4)

Ship: Gerlion - Rated: E (for smut) - Also on AO3

CW specific for this chapter: voyeurism, exhibitionism, Dandelion/female OC, sex work. (Can you guess what happens?)

Summary: There was an itch prickling over Dandelion’s skin, a constant ache in the pit of his stomach and his mind felt hazy at all hours of the day. He watched the sun creep behind the horizon, quill in hand, the long feather brushing against his cheek, willing for some kind of inspiration, anything to distract him from the never ending lust. He couldn’t help it, he was a young man in his prime and he’d spent the last few months in the wilderness with a rather gorgeous witcher.

The arrangement, as Dandelion had begun to think of it, was working well. With his ballads gaining popularity over the continent, his coin purse was beginning to fill out. Not that it stopped them from sharing rooms at inns, but occasionally he or Geralt would actually manage to visit a brothel to sate their needs. Masturbation was wonderful but even that was a short term solution. Occasionally one just needed to good tumble in the sheets, and Dandelion always made sure he paid for the night. He enjoyed the afterglow of sex just as much as the act itself, and even though he was paying them, he enjoyed waking up in his lover’s arms, but mostly the pair of them got each other off in the mornings or just before bed, whenever the need arose, and if they had the coin they’d visit a brothel. It worked for them.

The life of a witcher and that of a travelling bard did share one thing in common.

It wasn’t easy to settle down.

And honestly, neither of them wanted to. Geralt kept bemoaning that witcher’s were not meant for love and family, whereas Dandelion’s wanderlust seemed to bleed through into matters of the heart. How anyone could be happy with just one lover, he would never understand. There were so many beautiful people out there just waiting to be adored, it would be a bloody shame to deny them the opportunity.

Dandelion tried not to think about how he always returned to Geralt, be it in the mornings or evenings. He tried not to think of how, despite his wishes for freedom, he had essentially tethered himself to the witcher.

He tried not to think of how easy it would be to fall in love with him.

It was easier not to think about it.

“Geralt?” he called to the witcher.

Geralt looked across from where he was riding Roach. Dandelion’s own gelding was shorter than the mare, a chestnut horse that had nothing on Roach but it was better than walking everywhere. Geralt had been good at not riding too fast, but Dandelion’s feet were constantly sore and blistered by the end of the day. At least this way he could switch between riding and walking.

Gods, by the end of the year his thighs would be like tree trunks. He’d never exercised so much in his life before. The life of a viscount in training had been cushy, and his life as a student hadn’t been much harder. It was all desks and fancy chairs, the occasional lecture room with firm wooden benches.

In fact, the most exercise he’d had before had probably been in the bedroom.

Oh, how things had changed.

“We should visit a brothel in the next town, my friend,” Dandelion suggested.

To his surprise, Geralt shook his head. Dandelion pouted, ready to launch into a sonnet about the carnal delights that could be found waiting for them in the bed of a whore… or even two, but Geralt cut him off. “I need to stock up on potion ingredients, and the last contract didn’t pay well thanks to a certain bard.”

Dandelion flushed, averting his gaze. It hadn’t been his fault. He didn’t know that the gorgeous lady he’d been flirting with had been the Alderman’s wife. Was he supposed to be psychic? Not everyone had Geralt’s keen witcher’s senses, he hadn’t exactly been able to smell the mingling of their scents, as Geralt had described it. Dandelion was half convinced the witcher was making that up. There was no way he’d been able to smell that.

Although….

Geralt had mentioned he could smell when someone had orgasmed.

“I’ll have you know, that I am not to blame, dear witcher! If she was happily taken then she should have refused my advances. How the bloody hell was I supposed to know that she was married? She kept looking at me with those eyes, the colour of forget-me-nots, and cheeks like roses. She was practically begging me to take her to bed.”

Geralt snorted. “You can go to a brothel, I won’t stop you, my friend, but I don’t have the coin. I’ll stay in the woods outside of town and you can meet me at dawn. Don’t be late.”

Dandelion rolled his eyes and sniffed haughtily as he adjusted his hat with one hand. “Nonsense! We’ll just have to share.”

“Share?”

“A whore, obviously Geralt, do try to keep up.”

Geralt pulled Roach to a halt and Dandelion had to circle round as he trotted ahead. He peered at the witcher, quirking his eyebrow. “What?”

“You want to share a whore?”

Dandelion sighed dramatically, holding the reins in one hand as he flicked out a wrist in a flourish. “It’s cheaper and that way neither of us will need to camp out. It’s a practical and pleasurable solution. Come on, Geralt, when was the last time you had the soft flesh of a woman’s thighs around your waist, the feel of her breasts in your hands.”

“Shut up, Dandelion,” Geralt growled and spurred Roach onwards.

Dandelion chimed a laugh, and followed after his witcher. “So is that a yes? Geralt! Geralt come back!”

____________

It was a yes, even though Geralt never said the word. He never enjoyed the way Dandelion waxed poetry about women, as if they were a rose to be viewed purely for their beauty. He never admired the male figure in quite the same way. Whilst the poet wasn’t ashamed of his love of men, he only openly spoke of women as his lovers, occasionally omitting the gender altogether if he deemed it necessary.

Geralt had never really understood the need to hide. He didn’t exactly advertise his attraction to men, it was easier, not to mention cheaper, to hire a female whore after all, but he didn’t make the same effort that Dandelion did to hide it. Although, the bard in all his flamboyant gestures and colourful silk clothes did portray the more stereotypical dandy type.

And arseholes were less likely to actually try and attack a witcher, unless they were drunk or downright idiotic. Some thought that besting a witcher would impress whatever girl they had their eyes on, but Geralt was fairly good at discreetly using Axii to convince them that it wasn’t worth the fight.

Although, he had to admit, he did enjoy a good brawl, and the fighting rings were a good source of extra income when they were running low.

He sighed, pressing his fingers to his forehead. Perhaps he should have sought out the local fighting ring instead of going along with Dandelion’s ridiculous plan of sharing a whore, but there was no denying that he could use a good fuck. He was half-tempted to push the poet up against the nearest tree and fuck the living daylights out of him, but they didn’t do that. Quick hand jobs in the forest were a far cry from getting fucked against a tree.

But Dandelion was growing ever more tempting with every day that passed. Geralt knew the way the poet’s breathing hitched in his throat just before he came. He knew the way he would bite his lips in a fruitless effort to keep quiet, the obscene sounds of his moans that rang out in the night. Geralt knew how those cornflower blue eyes looked when he was hungry with lust, the scent of his arousal permeating the air until it was all that Geralt could smell. He knew how the bard’s cock felt in his hands, as Dandelion cried out, Geralt’s name falling from his lips like a prayer.

But he didn’t know how his lips tasted. He didn’t know whether Dandelion’s swan-like neck was as sensitive as he imagined. He could only guess at how beautiful it would look with an array of bruises and bite-marks left behind by Geralt’s mouth. He didn’t know how Dandelion’s cock would feel in his mouth, a taste of his cum.

And he wanted to know.

Fuck, he wanted to know everything.

If he hadn’t been taught from such a young age that witchers didn’t feel, he might have begun to think that he was falling in love with the poet.

But that was off the cards. It was just sex, hell, it wasn’t even that. They were friends, companions on the road.

And it was cheaper to share a whore.

“Greetings!” Dandelion trilled, giving the madame his most charming smile. The poet winked as he slid some coin across the bar. “We’d like to share, if that’s acceptable?”

The madame glanced between Geralt and his poet, looking decidedly unimpressed. He supposed they made a strange sight. The two of them couldn’t be more different in looks. Geralt with his dull black armour, two swords, and harsh demeanour, versus the colourful bard with hair the colour of golden corn, shiny burgundy silk clothes, and a lute strapped to his back.

They were the moon and the sun.

But, as the saying went, opposites attract.

And fuck, Geralt was attracted to the bard, too attracted. Dandelion would only get hurt by his side but Geralt was too weak to let him go, not whilst he wanted to stay, and Geralt hoped he would stay for a long time yet. The path had been so cold before Dandelion. He steadfastly ignored Vesemir’s warnings about getting attached to humans. A witcher’s lifespan far exceeded that of a human, if they survived the monsters of course.

It was better to settle for whores and one night stands. Geralt had never had a problem before, but being the Butcher of Blaviken was enough to put most humans off. No one had even attempted to befriend him since Renfri.

His friends were dwarves, druids and sorceresses. Although, that last one was still to be determined. The graduates of Aretuza were as prickly as they were powerful, manipulating the world and its people more skilfully than any politician, spy or monarch.

“You want to share with the witcher?” the madame asked, doubt ringing clear in her voice.

“I want to share with my friend, but we’d be happy to take our business elsewhere. A town like this must have more than one brothel,” Dandelion snapped, putting both hands on his hips, his charming air vanishing in an instant.

“No need, I have just the girl for you.”

Dandelion’s shiny smile was back, brighter than before, blinding Geralt and making his stomach twist in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

“Excellent!” the poet cheered with a clap of his hands, “Show us the way!”

Dandelion’s hair shone in the candlelight, bouncing as he quickly turned around to wink at Geralt. There was a sparkle in his eyes that seemed to light up the entire room. The poet’s tongue flicked out between his lips, and, not for the first time, Geralt wondered what it would be like to kiss him.

“Isn’t this a lovely establishment, my dear friend?” Dandelion wittered on, and Geralt ignored the weird stab of pain in his heart at the word friend. They were friends, just friends.

Friends.

Maybe if he repeated it enough then he would begin to believe it.

“It’s a brothel,” he said, his voice sounding dull compared to the warm tenor of his friend.

“Yes, yes, and it’s a rather lovely brothel. If you ignore the smell of sweat. Oh, but that must be even worse for you!” Dandelion exclaimed, looking horrified. Geralt shrugged. It did stink, but he was used to focussing on the nicer smells in places like this. They tended to burn incense, and here was no exception. The floral scent of freesia masked the worst of the sweat and sex, but Geralt focused on the pretty poet next to him. Dandelion still preferred the scented lavender oil in his hair. Before Dandelion, for Geralt’s life now existed as before and after Dandelion, lavender had not been a scent that he enjoyed. It was too strong, and reminded him of the sleeping drafts they used at Kaer Morhen before the mutagens…

But now it was the scent of Dandelion.

Mixed with chamomile and the poet’s natural musk, Geralt had grown rather fond of lavender.

Instead of saying all of this, he just muttered “I manage.”

Dandelion just wrinkled his nose, seemingly disgusted with the whole idea. Geralt couldn’t help the faint smile. It warmed his heart to know how much his friend cared about him, about the whole world in which they lived. Dandelion loved the world and in turn the world loved him back.

It was how it should be.

They were led through to one of the rooms on the second floor. It was cramped but nicely decorated. A pretty young blonde was lying on the bed, her fingers in the middle of braiding her long hair. She glanced up when she saw them, dark blue eyes looking up through thick black lashes.

And all Geralt could think of was that the colour was wrong.

Too dark.

The colour of a stormy ocean instead of the cornflower blue he’d grown used to.

There were freckles dusting her cheeks, and scattering down her neck below the bodice of her dress. She was slender, like Dandelion, but she lacked the muscles his poet had gained over the year…

Geralt cursed.

Winter was fast approaching and he’d been heading north soon, towards Kaer Morhen… towards home. He wondered where the poet would go for winter, perhaps to Oxenfurt. He always spoke of the city fondly.

“Geralt?” a strong hand on his arm snapped him out of his thoughts.

He blinked, the girl was still on the bed, looking more than displeased. He mumbled an apology for his rudeness.

“Can’t say that’s the best welcome I’ve had,” she muttered “I can get another girl if you’d prefer.”

“Nonsense!” Dandelion exclaimed. “He’s just tired, isn’t that right, my dear?”

Geralt nodded.

“See, nothing to worry about!” the poet trilled. “Now, how do you want us?”

“You shared before?”

They both shook their heads.

“I thought so, you can always tell,” she said, swiftly untangling the braid in her hair until it fell loosely down her back. “Are you taking turns or sharing?”

Geralt looked at Dandelion, it had been the poet’s idea and so the decision fell to him. Dandelion hummed, his tongue sticking between his lips as he considered, then he turned back to look at Geralt, tilting his head, one hand on his hip. “What do you think, darling? Would you be happy to watch?”

Geralt swallowed, the thought of watching his bard fuck another person should have bothered him… but instead he found himself growing hard in his trousers. He could already imagine the sinful things that Dandelion would say, the dirty poems and rhymes he would wax as he bedded the beautiful whore in front of them.

The bard was rumoured to be an unparalleled lover, and Geralt wanted to know, wanted to see why.

He nodded, barely looking at the girl, unable to tear his gaze from his friend as the pair of them stripped out of their clothes. Travelling together meant that Geralt had seen Dandelion naked many a time, but never like this. When they touched each other, they never took off more than necessary.

Marie, as the girl told them, pulled Dandelion to the bed, running her hands down his chest as she straddled his hips. Dandelion gazed up at her like she was a gift from the gods. He looked at her like he’d seen the sun for the first time. It made Geralt feel sick. He knew what it felt like to be caught under the poet’s gaze, how it felt to bask under the warmth of his affection.

Geralt should have realised that it wasn’t meant for just him.

“Oh, you are just stunning, darling, radiant as spring,” Dandelion cooed, fingers trailing down Marie’s spine. Geralt saw her shiver. He knew that whore’s often pretended to enjoy the company of their clients but Geralt could smell her genuine arousal mixing with the bard’s. Dandelion’s long fingers danced across her skin as she rolled her hips forward, making the poet sigh happily. Geralt could hear the spike in Dandelion’s pulse, as his breath hitched in his throat. Marie gasped as Dandelion cupped her breast.

Geralt was growing achingly hard in his trousers. He knew his turn was next.. but… he was also a witcher. His stamina was… a lot and if he wanted to cum without exhausting Marie then he really should start.

“Do you want me to ride you, poet?” Marie purred, her hands splayed on Dandelion’s chest.

Geralt hoped his bard would say yes. The way he was lying back on the bed with his hair fanned out behind him was enticing. Geralt could easily imagine Dandelion pinned underneath him as he fucked the bard.

Or maybe even fucked himself on Dandelion’s cock.

He hadn’t bottomed very often, most men assumed the witcher would top and Geralt didn’t really care enough to correct them, but suddenly the idea of Dandelion fucking him became the only thing he could think about. The poet’s long, clever fingers opening him up, brushing against his prostate. He growled, palming himself through his trousers. The sound drew Dandelion’s attention, and the poet fucking winked at him.

“What would you prefer, darling?” Dandelion asked, his voice hoarse, losing its usual smooth musical timbre.

Geralt felt too hot under Dandelion’s burning gaze. It was everything he wanted and yet not enough. “Ride him,” he choked out.

Marie laughed, and then reached between her thighs to coat her fingers before stroking the poet’s cock. Dandelion’s wanton moan echoed in the room, the sound going straight to Geralt’s aching cock. He growled and rushed to unlace his trousers, a hiss escaping his lips as he took himself in hand. Dandelion swore as Marie lowered herself onto him, both whore and poet gasping at the feeling. The scent of their joined arousal was almost too much.

She rode Dandelion with the enthusiasm that only a whore could have, moaning and whining and gasping as she fucked herself. Dandelion’s fingers gripped into the soft muscles of her thighs, thrusting into her, a string of poetic nonsense falling from his lips.

Geralt couldn’t look away.

He fisted his cock in time to their movements, imagining it was him that made Dandelion moan so sinfully.

It had been before, but fuck… this was a whole new level.

The way their bodies moved as one, the sounds of flesh slapping together, sweat glistening on the poet’s skin. Geralt’s eyes caught a bead of sweat trickling down Dandelion’s neck and he was hypnotised. He wanted to lick the droplet from the poet’s skin, taste the salt on his tongue, bite down on the muscles of Dandelion’s neck as he keened, his orgasm shuddering through his body.

Marie must have noticed where Geralt was looking because she leaned forward to kiss Dandelion’s neck. The poet’s breath caught, and he cried out, thrusts losing their rhythm as he came.

“Fuck, Geralt…” he moaned, just as he would when they touched each other in the woods.

Marie gasped wordlessly, fingers gripping into the sheets, but Geralt was too focussed on his bard.

His bard.

His poet.

His Dandelion.

For Dandelion was his, there was no denying it now. It was one thing for the poet to say Geralt’s name when he was the cause of his orgasm, but that had not been the case.

Geralt almost pitied Marie.

She hadn’t deserved it.

“Oh fuck,” Dandelion whined as his head hit the pillow. He was breathing heavily, his fingers tracing patterns into Marie’s thighs, and Geralt was reminded of the way that Dandelion’s fingers would dance over the strings of his lute when he played in the taverns.

He closed his eyes, gripping his cock tighter in his hand. His pleasure was still building slowly, as it always did, but his mind was spiralling and he felt unable to relax. His muscles were tense and he gritted his teeth.

“Your turn, witcher,” Marie called from the bed, “unless you’d rather fuck the poet. He won’t mind.”

“I’m fine,” he growled.

“But Geralt,” Dandelion pouted as he turned to face Geralt, cheeks still flush and rosy.

“I’ve changed my mind,” Geralt muttered, doing up his trousers and stalking from the room. “Dawn, Dandelion.”

“Dawn, yes, of course. I’ll be there.”

Geralt sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, jealousy was raging through him like poison. He knew that Dandelion had thought of him, and yet suddenly he felt sick to his stomach. Why hadn’t Dandelion said something? Geralt had been right there, every damn day for months, and yet the poet, famous for his inability to shut up, never said a fucking word.

It had taken a whore to make the truth spill from his lips.

And Geralt wasn’t even sure whether Dandelion had meant to tell him. What did he expect from Geralt? Was Geralt supposed to forget it, pretend it never happened? Or maybe Dandelion had been expecting Geralt to take up Marie’s offer…

And he’d run away.

“Fuck!” he yelled, startling a nearby cat as it was washing itself. The creature hissed and spat at him, clawing at the air. Geralt paid it no attention and carried on walking towards the stables to fetch Roach. He would make camp in the woods, and hopefully Dandelion would be there in the morning.

Geralt wasn’t sure what he’d do if the poet decided not to show.

[lily-lilou]

Great thoughts on magic systems! I just got recommenef to visit your blog and it's wonderful :-D what do you think about how the human half of the continent is devoid of magic? Almost as if it has been drained of it's magical sources a la dark magic. Or perhaps the continent not having magic is it's natural state and xadia somehow became magic infused? So many questions.

ooooh hello, nice to meet you, Anon!!!

and thank you, for the ask and the compliment :D

Well, I do have some theories about why the human half of the continent is devoided of magic.

First of all, I think we should notice that it's not entirely devoided of magic. Some places are still filled with it even though they're located in the human part of the continent. But they're hidden, hard to find (the moon nexus, the grotto where Claudia found her glowing fireflies in s1 and probably other places we don't know about yet).

And with that I do have some theories. (under the cut 'cause it's a little long ^^')

1) it's because (like you said) of dark magic

Since dark magic destroys what it uses and leaves nothing behind (if not for corrupted remains, it seems) it could be the overuse, along the years, of magical ressources that slowly drained the land of it's physical/primal magic.

It would fit with the "hidden" part of it, if the places where we still find magic are still like that because no one found them or, if they were found, weren't completely drained of their magic...

I would add to this theory that, if it's in any part close from truth, it could also be a long-game move from Xadia. We know from the creators (don't remember where, but I'm pretty sure it was in one of the earliest AMA on Reddit) that Xadia is more characterized by "timelessness" and "perfection".

And since we also know that Archdragons and some type of elves have extra long lifespan (several thousands years for startouch and archdragons, several centuries for the rest, apparently), time would indeed mean nothing to them.

With that in mind: dividing the continent to let humans use all of their part's magic until there's none left? In almost one millenia (so not much for Xadia) = no more magic = no more dark magic = disappearance of that higly controversial practice. problem solved and it's not Xadia's fault. Because Xadia is perfection and killing innocents along the bad ones it's not perfection (yes, we know Xadia and it's view of innocence is higly controversial too, but that's another story, another theory... and we would need more informations about what truly happened 1000years ago, we only got unreliable narrators, until now...)

It would also fit with one of @beautifulterriblequeen hc, where Moonshadow elves are some kind of police for humans. After all, they're sent after "bad humans" when they do "bad deeds" to correct them, give an example. We also see how Sunfire elves have a lot of intel about humans (Kazi and KSL, etc.) while humans don't know much about Xadia. It's as if Xadia is acting like a (distant, cold and really condescendant) parent with an unruly child. (... we all remember Sol Regem)

In fact, when you see how Xadia is looking down on humans, I'm pretty sure they're totally convinced of their own magnanimity. because "there's nothing worth saving in humans" and yet they let them live.

But I'm digressing and drifting again... sorry...

so! second theory

2) It's about who live in the land.

I think I mentionned that in one of my theories, but here it is:

Magic (in my theory) is one part physical (primal magic) and another part... well, about "love", and "feelings" and everything related to the heart. It's forgiveness, empathy, all of that.

I'm really not sure this is close from truth, but I do like to think that while Xadians have an affinity for primal magic and so infuse the land with their presence, humans have one to the other part of magic. But it's so... invisible that it doesn't look like magic at all. And yet, we have an Ezran with strong empathy who can talk to animals... (however, I'm still up for @kotikala 's theory about Ezran having an afinity with the stars, hehehehe)

Anyway! with that theory, some things seems to fit: the human part of the land is almost devoided of magic because there has been almost no xadians here since the division. But we can see that the kingdoms have come to an alliance. Despite their differences, and all, they're united, they even created a temple for the summit of the pentarchy in Allhaven Hill (the place where we saw all the other kings and queens). Because their magic is just about this, (I guess?)

As for Xadia, it's filled with primal magic, sure, but when it's about the heart, about being together... I mean... In the 1st episode of s1, when we got those... screenshots of the first wars, on the elven part: we never saw tidebounds or earthblood elves. (maybe they''re not fighters, but somehow I highly doubt that...

nobody will convince me that these two can't fight. NOBODY!!!)

Moonshadow elves? Messed up to the last extent, so much that apparently (according to Devon in HBMP ep5), it can be confusing as if you're allowed to show your feelings or not... (and seriously who ghost a 15 years old girl without even giving her a chance? WHO? SHE'S A BABY AND SHE NEEDS HER DADS!!!!!!! ... sorry, sensitive subject...)

Skywings? Loners, it seems. even Ibis, who's supposed to be an ambasador between elves and dragons according to his descritpion on the official site. Aaand... I mean... The dragon queen is dying in s3 and except for him, they're absolutely NO ONE on the storm spire. Nobody seems to care?

hem! Dragonguards? 6 of them just let their king and most of all another baby down just to save their freaking lives.

Startouch? ahahah! Seems, from Callum's spellsbook, that it's extremely rare to see one of them, so they're kind of never here (And I won't even talk about Aaravos... and since we got that wonderful tweet from A.Ehasz I won't not talk about it:

I'm pretty sure Startouch are nothing but walking disasters...

I'm not sure if it's me coming with this or if I saw that in an interview, but I'm pretty sure A.Ehasz said once that Xadians aren't that close to each other (amongs different kind of elves, especially, I mean).

Okay, digressing again. All of this to say what?

That of course, nothing is as white and black as what I wrote above, I'm more talking about tendencies who would be influenced by magic. But Humans infuse... people with their magic, Xadians infuse the land, and they're both supposed to work together because magic is a whole thing.

That's why magic created both. (see that like some kind of yin and yang?)

and finally my 3rd theory. The most stupid but somehow my favorite:

3) it's Aaravos fault.

No reason, just like that.

Because he plans. Because he knows! Because he gives me a "mad scientist" vibe. The "why not" more than the "why" kind of mad scientist(still sure he has a hand in the creation of dark magic).... you know?

did he do it without anyone noticing? Or did he convinced Luna Tenebris, 1000years ago, after the fall of Sol Regem and Elarion, to mess up with magic and remove it from the human part of the land, presenting it as a faster way to erease dark magic but in fact planning something sinister?

I don't know.

In fact I don't know if any of these theories are right, but they're fun. I wonder if you have another, however ^^

Thank you again for asking, have a really nice day, Anon :D

[smells-like-mettaton]

Rating: G

Summary:

“There is nothing I can do, then.” His voice fell somewhere between a statement and a question.

Her palms felt hot. She clenched her fists, snuffing out the fire before it could ignite.

“You can bring back my children.”

(Asgore and Toriel angst, post-pacifist route. Takes place the first night on the surface.)

Word Count: 1,878

XXX

Toriel expected sleeping on the surface to feel a little more comfortable.

Of course, laying sprawled in the grass couldn’t compare to her queen-sized bed.  And the breeze was new and old and restless, dancing in her fur and keeping her awake.  And somehow, despite not having lungs, Sans was snoring.  

Those were just excuses, she knew.  The real interruption to her sleep lay on the other side of the clearing, his hulking form too still to be unconscious.

Her ex-husband.

The murderer of her children.

She wasn’t afraid of him. But after all these years, her anger and disgust had fermented to something even more bitter.  If she had her way, he would never set foot near her child.

But Frisk was forgiving.  More forgiving than Toriel could be.

She sat up just a bit, trying not to make a sound, just so she could check on Frisk.  They were still bundled in Sans’ bony arms, seemingly oblivious to the thundering snores.  Toriel trusted Sans—despite everything, her friend had fulfilled his promise—but it still pricked a bit that Frisk had chosen him to protect them, rather than her.

It made sense. She’d learned that Sans was the only one who didn’t fight them.

She rolled over.  A pointy rock jutted into the fur between her shoulder blades.  The stars were too bright.

And Asgore was still too close for comfort.

With a muffled sigh, Toriel got to her feet and padded towards the edge of the clearing.  Sans and the others could protect Frisk for now.  She just needed a moment to clear her head, to be…

Alone.  How long had she been alone?  Perhaps that was the problem.  So many monsters—and one human—breathing in sync, filling the air with the sounds of life.

You missed that.  You missed them.  Do not pretend he has not caused your pain.

It was a short walk back to the cliff where they’d exited the underground.  The moon—the moon, oh, it was beautiful—hung bright and round as a butterscotch pie.  The whole world seemed to spread beneath her feet.  The wind caressed her face with the tenderness of a lover—

A lover who had seen her children destroyed.  Dead.  Stolen from their home, struck down when they set foot outside, rammed through with a trident meant to protect— 

“Could you not sleep, either?”

She jolted up at the voice, fire magic already flaring in her palms.  The voice’s identity didn’t give her much incentive to put it out.

“Dreemurr,” she said curtly, turning back towards the moon and reluctantly extinguishing her flames.  “Do you not have better places to be than bothering a tired old woman?”

“Um.”  He coughed.  Even after all these years, that cough felt so familiar.  “I thought, perhaps you would like some company… but it appears I was mistaken.”

Despite that, she didn’t hear his footsteps leave.  Insufferable man.

“You wanted the company.”

He chuckled sadly.  “You always could see right through me, Tori—Toriel.”

She pursed her lips at the nickname.  How could he still call her that, even by accident?  How could he think things could be the same, when he had her children’s blood on his hands?

Paige. Finn. Ceil. Ren. Malia. Dylan. And very nearly Frisk.

“Things will be difficult for us monsters on the surface,” Asgore murmured.  “I do not relish leading our people alone.”

Our people.  The words stung.  The monsters were still her people, but they weren’t her people.  She could no longer be their queen. Some wounds just went too deep.

“You will manage, I am sure.”  Look at the moon. Not at the man she once loved.  “You will have Undyne, and all of the Royal Guard.  Against my better judgement, you will have Frisk as your ambassador.  You will not be alone.”

The wind whistled between them, almost obscuring Asgore’s next words.

“But they will not be you.”

Toriel’s fur bristled.  “You should be grateful they are not.  You will find them much more willing to forgive you.”

He flinched.  She wasn’t sure when she’d started looking at him again.

“There is nothing I can do, then.” His voice fell somewhere between a statement and a question.

Her palms felt hot.  She clenched her fists, snuffing out the fire before it could ignite.

“You can bring back my children.”

Asgore closed his eyes.  The moonlight highlighted the creases in his fur, the centuries of pain carved there.

She would know. She’d collected those centuries like scars herself.

“If only I could, Toriel,” he whispered. “If only I could.”

He settled down on the ground a ways off. Just far enough to not technically be in the same space, yet still near enough to make her fur itch.

She should go back to the clearing. Her new friends and her child were there. Without Asgore nearby, she might even be able to sleep.

...No. She doubted she would get a wink now.

Sighing, she started down the path to the clearing—

“Would you tell me about them?”

She paused at his voice, her eyes narrowing.  “I suspect you will get to know Frisk well enough on your own.”

“No—them, plural. Your children. The ones I… no.” He shook his head, horns glinting in the moonlight. “I would not cause you more pain if I can help it.  I think of Asriel and Chara every day. I thought, perhaps, if you wished to share your fond memories… but I would only taint them.”

He wiped his face with one paw. “I am sorry. There truly is nothing I can do, though I wish with all my soul.”

She blinked at him.  His apology, his wishes, his sorrow—none of it could make a difference. None of it could bring her children back.

Paige. Finn. Ceil. Ren. Malia. Dylan.

(Asriel. Chara.)

But she’d saved one.  Well, Frisk had mostly saved themself.  According to Sans, they’d survived most of the Underground with very little interference. All Toriel had done was return in time to, as Sans put it, “dunk on the king.”

“Toriel…?”

Right. She had been staring.

With a heavy sigh, she settled down in the dirt. Not too close. But not too far, either.

She wouldn't sleep tonight anyway. There were worse things she could do than remember the children who had sacrificed their lives for her freedom.

“Paige,” she said quietly.

“Hmm?” Asgore straightened.

“Paige.  She was the first human who fell, after… after Chara.”  She swallowed.  Heavens, this would not be easy. Yet somehow, despite everything, it felt right.

“Your guards found her in the Ruins. Before I sealed the entrance.  She would have stayed with me forever, if it were not for that. I know it.”

She was only seven.  Smaller than Frisk, but louder—full of life, full of energy, and at most times, full of the monster candy Toriel left out for the Whimsuns and Froggits. A pink ribbon shimmered in her ponytail, catching the light of Toriel’s fire when they cooked together. Well, when Toriel cooked, and Paige pretended to slice vegetables with her toy knife.

Wherever human souls went to when they died, Toriel hoped she was happy.

“Finn was the next to fall,” she continued.  “He had come to Mount Ebott on purpose—I do not think Paige did. I never did figure out how she ended up there…” And Toriel never would, thanks to the man beside her.

Realistically, Paige would be dead by now anyway. Humans did not share the lifespan of boss monsters, and she had fallen hundreds of years ago, so soon after Toriel had lost Asriel and Chara.

And yet it was still an innocent life, ended too soon.

“Finn,” Asgore repeated quietly. Toriel had almost managed to ignore his presence until then.

“He was an odd one. Always surprised that I knew that he was a boy, as if I could not see his soul. Perhaps humans are less discerning in that regard. He loved to play catch in the front yard, and he never gained the taste for snail pie, though he single-handedly kept the spider bakery in business.”

She smiled at that memory. On the few occasions Muffet visited the ruins, she always gave Finn an extra cup of cider with his donuts.

Muffet had later delivered the horrible news herself, rather than leaving it to the spider gossip chain. Finn had been captured by a dog monster outside Snowdin. He’d never gotten to taste the Cinnamon Bunnies he’d snuck off to buy.

She said a prayer for him, though she was no longer sure anyone listened. If someone had, Finn and the other children would still be with her.

“He sounds like quite the sweetheart,” Asgore murmured. Present tense. As if his orders hadn’t been the cause for Finn’s demise.

“I… I can’t do this, Dreemurr.”  She squeezed her eyes shut, but all she could see was blood.  Blood and dust.

She was free. They were all free. With Frisk’s help, no monsters and humans would fight again.

Was she still too stuck in the past to appreciate just how bright their future could be?

“Toriel—I’m sorry.”  His arms fell back to his sides. He had been reaching out, as if to hug her. “I am so sorry…”

“Ceil was sorry,” she whispered. “She left me a note before she disappeared. Nabstablook told her of a cousin with a talent for dance, and she… she wanted nothing more than to perform for monsters, to show that humans were not to be feared…

“And Ren. Always exploring.  Reading. Learning. Soaking up whatever knowledge he could, and writing it in his little notebook. I wonder what happened to it when he… when he…”

Tears ran down her face, staining the front of her tunic. Embarrassment flushed her, but why should she care? This was the man who had killed her Ren. Why should she hide her grief?

“Tori—”

“Malia,” she cut him off, her voice shaking. “Always wanted to help. Tried to make my butterscotch pie… I’ll never forget the f-flour on her face…

“And Dylan. Malia’s older brother, searching when she never returned. I had to tell him… tell him I couldn’t protect her…”

She huddled her knees close to her chest, all pretense of dignity gone. It didn’t matter what Asgore thought of her. She knew what she thought of him.

He was a murderer. No matter his intentions, she could not, would not forgive that.

“I…” He held out a hand.

“Don’t touch me, Dreemurr,” she snapped, though her soul was hardly in it.

Her anger wouldn’t bring her children back, any more than Asgore’s regret would.

“I will not.” His voice was soft. The voice of a husband, not a murderer, but ears could deceived. The soul could not.

She had seen the extermination points shielding his soul. Strengthening his trident. He was not the man she remembered.

“Thank you,” he whispered, “for telling me of them.”

She looked up, meeting his tearful gaze with her own.

“You can thank me by removing yourself from my life,” she growled.

Then she stood, and made her way down the mountain.

Her child—the one she had left—would be waiting for her.

[shrimppebbles]

Through the Generations

there’s probably another challenge named this, but I am not good at names, so I’m keeping it

*this challenge is currently unfinished as I am play testing it and fell into a rut, but feel free to start from this point*

this challenge is a free forming challenge meant for me to hopefully enjoy the sims more and have structured legacy that I like without anything that seems to hard. this legacy can be bended however you want and the gens played in whatever order you want (each gen however has a backstory and will not work if you switch them around, so create your own backstory if you switch generations around) there are a lot of pack requirements I didn’t intend to make, but you can skip those or modify them to your will.

Also, feel free to play with siblings and such to make fun family trees, just make sure to have “auto-age current household only” on!

we’ll get into all the rules below the cut to make it neat, but incase I ever delete my tumblr or it gets deactivated, HERE is a google doc of the rules too 

@sims4challenges​ @ts4-challengenet​

Some Basics before we get into the Generations

Heirs are whoever you choose unless specified 

You can give the next generation however much of the family funds of the current generation as you choose

Piggy-backing off of that, unless specified you can use however many funds you want to build/buy new lots

You can create sims to be your spouse and add them into the world unless specified

Any lifespan length is fine, although regular is recommended

Start each gen at young adult unless specified 

You can have pets in any generation unless otherwise specified

You can have same-sex or hetero couples per each generation (your choice). In same-sex couples, you may adopt or use a mod that will allow try for baby and pregnancy between them

and lastly...have fun and please tag me if you play or use the tag #ThrGen, I’d love to see it!

Generation one: A Big Happy Family 

family oriented, [your choice], [your choice]

any family aspiration

You grew into young adulthood with absolutely no-one, no siblings or parents, it’s not something you would wish onto your worst enemies, let alone your own family. You vow to make a large, happy family for your own children and never want to lead a boring life for your kids

Marry one of the first sims your spouse meets

Have 10 children (you can use mods if you wish, but just replacing them as they move out is fine)

You can live in whichever world you want, just pick the biggest lot of that respective world

Paint, write, or any other work from home job (your spouse may hold a part-time job or do the same)

Max the parenting, cooking, and charisma skills

Grow a nice little veggie garden

Have good relationship with all children

Most of your children should have the happy toddler trait and at least one positive character trait

Generation two: Work, Work, Work

 [your choice], [your choice], [your choice]

fabulously wealthy aspiration

You didn’t hate growing up in a full, loud house, but you saw how much your parents sacrificed of their own freedom and ambitions for you and you never want your family to come in between your dreams and you like that. So you move to the city to build up a career for yourself completely kid free.

Move to San Myshuno, working from a small apartment up to a penthouse

Reach level ten in either the Business or Politician careers (you can pick which branch)

Take any career opportunities the game offers you

Only after you reach the top of your career can you look for a serious relationship (you can have one night hook ups here and there if you wish, just nothing serious)

The only way you can intentionally boost fun is by listening to the radio or watching the television

Have a child with your spouse once you complete your aspiration (this should be into adulthood, the older you are the better)

Only have one child building a strong relationship with them and spoiling them rotten

If you or your spouse dies of old age, the respective partner should also die in some manner shortly after (to set up for the next gen)

Generation three: All on my Own?

snobby, [your choice] , [your choice]

start with whatever aspiration you think fits, but change it to and complete the Friend of The Animals aspiration

With the sudden passing of both your parents, you have no idea what do with yourself and how to live on your own. In a rash decision, you sell the penthouse and all it’s belongings. You blow through all this money quite quickly on drinks and gambling until you have barely enough money to move out to a small house on the coast (you will probably need to cheat this, just cheat it down to 20,000). There you try to find yourself and make a life for your new normal. After job after job, you notice the amount of strays in the area, which inspires you to open a small family clinic

Do as the description above says, only starting once both of your parents are dead

Move to Brindleton Bay

“Try” (you can just work at them for a couple days) three different jobs before deciding to open a small vet clinic

adopt at least five animals over the course of your life

You can meet your spouse wherever (perhaps the clinic) and have 2 children with them

Take your children on trips to different parks, museums, etc., every week

Max the pet training and veterinary skills

Generation four: The Nuclear Family

athletic, paranoid, [your choice]

strangerville mystery aspiration and successful lineage aspiration 

Your parents always encouraged you to pursue what you wanted, but also encouraged economic conscious and independence. Not sure what you want to do, you enlist in the army and move to StrangerVille, trying to figure out what you want, but as your there, you get enveloped into what’s going on

As a teen, have a part time job

move into the trailer park in StrangerVille

Enlist in the Military

Complete the StrangerVille Mystery aspiration

After finally taking down The Mother, you are finally able to decipher what you wanted, a Writer. You leave your position in the military and pick up a job at the local paper (the writer career), where you tell your stories of your adventures and other strange happenings in Strangerville. At the paper, you meet your spouse and settle down to have a few children with them. But still feeling unsatisfied, you find solace in a stranger at a bar and do things very questionable as a married sim.

Move to the Suburbs of StrangerVille

Become a writer and choose the Journalism path

Meet your spouse at work

Have 3 children (preferably at least one boy and one girl)

Cheat on your spouse with someone you meet at the bar (this can be a one time thing or a continuous theme)

Complete the Successful Lineage Aspiration

Max the Writing Skill

Generation five:  Reduce, Reuse, Recycle

green fiend, perfectionist, [your choice]

Eco Innovator Aspiration 

Sensing something was always off in your parents marriage, you wanted everything else in life to be perfectly in your control to balance it out. One of the biggest problems that seemed to be out of your control however, was the environment and the negative impacts of it, until you learned about a little town on the coast, Evergreen Harbor. There people of your similar mind lived and coexisted, working on creating a community of a better environment. So, soon after your eighteenth birthday, you pack your bags and move. 

Move to Evergreen Harbor

Always live in a tiny home, the smaller, the better

Grow a garden of at least ten different plants

Go into the Civil Designer Career, specifically the Green Technician Branch (you can also choose the conservationist career, just cheat the aspiration go

Concerned about their environmental impacts, have only one child, you can either by adopt or a have a one night stand resulting in a child ( you can be in contact and be in a relationship with the child’s parent, but they should not live with you) 

Have at least fifteen renewable energy sources

Make your neighborhood (and maybe others!) the cleanest it can be

Generation six:  Paintings of Cityscapes

creative, loves the outdoors, [your choice]

 pick painter extraordinaire aspiration, but also complete “friend of the world” along the way

Growing up with a single parent, your life was a little interesting, but never dim or unloved. Growing up in Evergreen Harbor gave you access to many interesting and cool people who shaped your view of the world and it’s beauty (Rory and Lorelai Gilmore type vibe ig?). Interested in broadening your world view, you move yourself all the way to the big city to pursue a career in arts. There you meet all sorts of people 

Move to San Myshuno, try moving into the smallest apartment possible, make it into a studio/loft and live there for as long as possible

Meet all your friends at art galleries and karaoke bars

go to as many festivals as possible, trying to paint and photograph them as much as possible

Max the Charisma and Painting skills

Never to boggled to settle down, have at least two children to at least two different people, preferably “casual” friends

Never live in an apartment bigger than what you need in the name of being unique (basically no mega big apartments and penthouses)

Marry as a elder to your highest romantic partner

Take your kids on trips to art galleries and such every week

You should have an extra stock pile of money, don’t spend it on stuff you don’t need

Generation seven:  A Higher Degree

genius, [your choice], [your choice]

Academic aspiration and then whichever aspiration you think fits

Living with your eccentric parent in a tiny apartment with your siblings, at times, felt quite odd and claustrophobic, but your parent always introduced you to new people and new places that widened the lens of what you could do in your life. With the help of your parent, who put away any extra dollar they could so that you and your siblings could to go to college and pursue your passion, you apply for university and move into the dorms. 

Go to University and get a degree in Psychology, History, or Literature and Language

Join at least one student organization

Meet your spouse while in university (they can be attending or you just meet them somewhere on campus)

Have a big graduation party with all your friends and classmates

Marry your partner soon after graduation

Pursue a career related to your major

Max your Logic and Research & Debate skills

I will add  more to this as I get here 

[yespolkadotkitty]

The Apple of My Eye, pt 2/2

part I here

This chapter written mostly by the talented @hopelessromanticspoonie !

*****

“The results of your x-ray show that you didn’t break anything, but with your medical history, we’d like to do an MRI, just to check everything out.”

Propped up in the bed in the ER, dressed in a paper-thin gown that was flattering to no one, with only a blanket covering your legs, you felt less than equipped to disagree with the nurse. The ambulance had been effective at getting pain meds into you quickly through an IV inserted at your elbow, the medicine cold and heavy as it settled over you like a numbing blanket. “Sure, whatever. Has anybody come asking for me?”

The nurse, a short woman who looked as if she could take on the fiercest creature and come out unscathed, shook her head, punching your information into a rolling computer cart. “Not yet, sweetheart. Expecting someone?”

You heard a crash in the distance, followed by a barrage of incomprehensible shouting that you would recognize instantly. Wincing, you pointed in the direction the mayhem had come from. “I think that’s him, yeah.”

Loki, followed closely by a rather harassed looking Steve - what was that about? - sprinted into your room, nearly barreling over the nurse in the process. He came to a stop at your bedside, eyes sweeping over you, landing on the bruising and blood on your forehead and the line coming out of your arm. His eyes burned into yours as he addressed the nurse, in his best James-Bond-on-a-shoot-to-kill-mission voice, “Will it harm her if I touch her?”

“Don’t you go jostling her around too much there, lover boy,” the nurse replied, totally unfazed by all six foot two of Loki towering over her. “She took a nasty fall, and with her medical history, we don’t know what kind of damage there was. Your girl there is delicate.”

You couldn’t help but grumble out, “I am not delicate.”

Loki placed one knee on the bed, leaning over you so that he could wrap his arms behind your shoulders and neck, pressing his chest into you and his cheek to the top of your head. “Norns, what happened, kitten?”

The smell of his cologne was much preferred to the burning, sterile antiseptic of the hospital, washing over you from where your face had come to rest against his chest. You patted his back softly, careful not to lift your arms too much because even if the heavy duty pain killers had kicked in, you still didn’t know what the damage of your idiocy was. You pushed him away gently after a moment, gesturing for him to take a seat on the bed next to your thighs. He did as you non-verbally commanded, taking one of your hands in both of his.

“Oh, I grabbed for my phone when it rang, forgetting I had my hand on the bannister. I was on the stairs of my building - the elevator is out again. Fell down a bit-”

The nurse cut in, her eyes never leaving the screen. “She fell down two flights of stairs.”

If you could shake her for deepening the creases of worry between Loki’s brows, you would. Settling for a cutting glare, you continued. “Fell down. Called 911 when I realized I couldn’t walk, and Tony’s my next-of-kin on my medical records, to be alerted if anything happens to me. I didn’t want to worry you…”

“Will she be alright, ma’am?” Steve asked your nurse from where he was situated against the wall, calm and collected as always.

“I’m about to take her away for an MRI, and that should be the last test we need to run to see if she knocked anything out of place. Make no mistake, she’s going to be in a world of hurt for a while, and I’m assuming that tall, dark, and intimidating over there is her beau, so he’ll need to take extra special care of her.”

You pulled your pleading eyes away from Loki, plastering on a weak smile. “It isn’t my first fall, it won’t be my last.”

Cherie - you caught the moniker from the badge on her hip - came up and lifted the railing on the side of the bed that Loki wasn’t occupying. “Those drugs should be kicking in full force in a minute, and then you’re going to want to take a little nap.”

“Don’t need a nap,” you replied stubbornly. 

Cherie smiled patiently. “That’s okay, sweetheart. I’m gonna take you to get that scan done and then right back here to your boys. Sound good?”

Loki rose, holding tightly to your hand as Cherie lifted the other bed railing. “I’m going with her.”

Cherie leveled him with a look that would make even the strongest man shrink, but he was no man. Thankfully, Steve stepped in, clapping a heavy hand down on the Aesir’s shoulder. “She has to go in there alone, but they’ll bring her right back. They won’t hurt your girl, I promise.”

You were astonished to see Loki actually back down at Steve’s reassurances, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Cherie’s prediction had been correct, and you struggled against the weight of your eyelids to shoot Loki a reassuring smile. “I’ve had loads of these, Loki. It’ll be okay. See you soon,” you whispered, just before giving in gratefully to your medicated slumber.

When you woke later, you were much warmer than before, especially your hands. Licking your lips against the bitter, dry taste in your mouth, you cracked your eyes open.

Loki was perched in a chair by the side of your bed, and the tightness around his eyes lessened when your gazes met, and held. He quickly grabbed the cup of water left at your bedside table and held it to your lips, helping you take a few mouthfuls before setting it back down. The water calmed your scratchy throat.

“How are you feeling?” he asked quietly, the low rumble of his voice hoarse, but no less pleasant for it.

You made to reach up to push an errant lock of hair from his face, but found your hands firmly held in his - the cause for the lovely warmth you felt upon first waking. Taking a quick mental scan of your pain levels, you shook your head. The action pulled at your back, but the only faint twinge of pain spoke of the potency of the drugs coursing through your system. After falling down two flights of stairs, you knew your body was very upset about it. “I’m okay. Did they say what the MRI revealed?”

“No. Since neither I, nor Rogers - he left to locate coffee - are listed in your paperwork as family, they wouldn’t release that information to us.”

The idea seemed to really upset him, judging by his harsh tone and the vein that ticked in his temple. You lifted your hand out of his grasp to reach out to him. You couldn’t quite reach his face, and he shifted so that he perched on the edge of the bed, leaning his cheek into your palm. You stroked the smooth skin, the action calming for you both.

He captured your hand in his again, pressing a kiss to your palm before setting it on his thigh. “My heart stopped when I received that call from Stark. I was fortunate that Rogers was there to bring me to you so quickly. It was the worst agony I have felt in all my days, and believe me, I do not say that lightly.”

You rubbed your thumb over the warm denim of his jeans, your heart cracking almost clean in two at the fear and vulnerability coating his words. “I’m sorry, I am. I didn’t want to call you until I was home, safe, so that you wouldn’t worry more than you needed to.”

The ferocity of his expression was startling. “No. That would have wounded me more. To know that you were in pain and I was not there at your side? All I could think about on our journey here was how terribly fragile you are, how easily you are injured.” He shook his head, taking a deep, steadying breath. “I feared I might never see your smile again, know the joy of your touch and the breadth of your love. Never again hear your laugh.  It was agonizing.”

You had to say it. You couldn’t help it. The pain killers had settled over your brain and wiped away any filter that you’d once had. “But Loki, it will happen, one day.”

So many expressions warred on his face that you couldn’t place a single one, before only love, fear, and hope remained. “Oh, kitten. It doesn’t have to.”

You furrowed your brows, not understanding.

“I didn’t mean for it to be this way. I had grand plans of a wonderful dinner, of lavish gifts and the sweetest prose known anywhere in the Nine Realms. But now, when faced with the reality…” He paused, holding out his hand, palm flat,  in front of you. An apple, the skin glossy and unblemished red, a jaunty golden leaf growing from its stem, appeared. “I am stricken by the thought of spending even a single day without you. Of getting another blasted phone call from Stark that stops my heart cold. Of worrying for your health through the winter of your Midgardian life, and then facing nothing but the yawning chasm of my own years alone."

You reached out, taking the apple carefully in your hands, the shiny, tempting flesh cool beneath your touch. “What is it?”

“It is an apple I procured from my mother on our last visit, with her blessing. If you take but one bite - although it is delicious and you may eat it all should you wish - my fears of your brief lifespan will be silenced. You will be granted a long life, easily as long as mine or Thor’s. And I hope, that if you accepted this offering, you would spend the millenia by my side.”

You had never seen him look so unsure, so shaken, as he was in that moment. He searched your face, watching the gears turn over in your mind as you idly turned the apple over in your hands. Chewing on your bottom lip, you thought it over, thinking back to all the times you had felt so guilty for loving him, for capturing his heart when you could only hold it for so long. He deserved someone who could match him in years, if not in a body that wasn’t so ‘substandard’.

“What will happen to me? To my body - I mean specifically, to my back?” you asked quietly, needing to know what you were signing up for. It was one thing to know that your spine was going to deteriorate over the next few decades, but what would happen to you over thousands of years?

He sighed heavily. “It will slow the degeneration process drastically. As I still look quite young for living over two thousand years, my body matches my outward appearance. You would age similarly.”

That was… doable. You could handle that. But could you handle watching Tony, Steve, Nat, almost everyone you held dear die? It was the question that Loki had faced, and he had found a solution in the apple you let your eyes fall onto. You doubted there was an entire orchard on Asgard that you could plunder so that your newfound family could join you in near-immortality. And even if there were. You alone should not have the luxury of choosing who in the Universe would benefit.

But then you let your gaze drift up to the man who was watching you so intently. You had never known happiness and peace as great and all-encompassing as when you were with him. He was the love of your life, and you knew without a doubt that your abiding affection for each other would only grow over the many lifetimes that the unassuming fruit in your hand could bring. You could truly grow old together, and you’d be a fool to pass that up.

“I probably shouldn’t eat this right here in the hospital. Think you can keep me and this bad boy safe until we get back to my apartment?” you asked, unable to match the seriousness of his proposal, but the smile that stretched across your face as you offered him the apple for safe-keeping hurt your cheeks, it was so big. Your stomach felt full of nervous, happy fireworks.

He didn’t reply, leaning forward and carefully pulling you into his arms, burying his face into the crook of your neck. He trembled lightly in your embrace, and you held him tighter for it, joy bubbling out of you in quiet laughter.

And then he kissed you. It was warmth and happiness and relief and promise and every ounce of love that he contained. His forehead rested against yours and his eyes swam with unshed tears. You had rarely seen him so vulnerable, and your heart squeezed. “You’ll be mine?”

You let the apple fall soundlessly into your lap, cupping his jaw tenderly. “I’ve always been yours.” 

Permanent taglist: @just-the-hiddles @nonsensicalobsessions @lotus-eyedindiangoddess @wiczer @polireader @magnitude101999 @brokenthelovely @vodka-and-some-sass @amarisyousei @myoxisbroken @jessiejunebug @lovesmesomehiddles @arch-venus25

As You Are taglist: @darealbellabelleoftheball 

[salvatoreschool]

‘Legacies’: Danielle Rose Russell on Miss Mystic Falls, the Finale, and All That Screaming

In the latest episode of The CW series Legacies, entitled “Let’s Just Finish the Dance,” the Miss Mystic Falls pageant, and all of the competition and stress that accompanies it, forced Hope (Danielle Rose Russell) to deal with all of the emotions that she’s been trying to compartmentalize for some time now. And with the fallout of her actions leaving her and Landon (Aria Shahghasemi) on the outs, Hope will turn to Lizzie (Jenny Boyd) to help her make things right.

During this 1-on-1 phone interview with Collider, actress Danielle Rose Russell (who has given a terrific and beautifully nuanced performance this season) talked about Hope’s participation in the Miss Mystic Falls pageant, what she thought about the meaning behind the special dress that Hope wore, the dynamic between Hope and Lizzie, why she only screams once per season, Hope and Landon’s relationship, her reaction to learning about what Landon actually is, why she loves the idea of Hosie (Hope and Josie), how she feels about the season finale, and what she’s most enjoyed about Hope’s journey this season.

Collider: Clearly, Hope has been having a rough time of things lately, with everything that she’s been going through. So, do all of those bad things help make the fact that she has to be in the Miss Mystic Falls pageant seem a little less awful, or does it just feel like the cherry on top of the awfulness cake?

DANIELLE ROSE RUSSELL: I think she thinks that it’s gonna help her, which is why she even agreed to do it and doesn’t put up much of a fight because, more than anything, she really needs to be distracted. But, it definitely is the cherry on top of the awfulness cake.

As much as she protests all of this, do you think Hope also is at least a tiny bit secretly happy that she decided to do this pageant?

RUSSELL: I think that there’s a part of her that allows herself to pay tribute to the Mikaelson way. The Mikaelsons were always throwing balls and parties and extravagant get-togethers, or whatever you want to call them, so there’s a part of her that allows herself to be into that a little bit. Of course, she is very much a girl, and I think that she does like to get into a dress and put her make-up on and do her hair. But honestly, she probably mostly wants nothing to do with this. It’s just that, with all of the things that have happened recently, she’s almost forced to do it. She has no other choice.

In order to win this pageant, she finds herself taking advice from Lizzie (Jenny Boyd), which just doesn’t seem like it can go well. What did you enjoy about getting to explore what the two of them can accomplish together, when they’re not annoying each other?

RUSSELL: You see how they do help each other. It’s definitely an interesting dynamic that has mostly occurred off screen. When Legacies picked up, we never really saw the history between both of the twins. There are definitely more developments that need to happen, with both of the twins, though Hope’s relationship with Lizzie does become significant and they do help each other out, in the face of danger. I always think it’s really nice to see characters band together and fight for what they all believe in.

It’s certainly cathartic, any time you have a lot of stress and things going on, to just go into a wide open space and scream. What was it like to shoot that, and how many times did you have to scream?

RUSSELL: Well, I did a lot of screaming in The Originals, and I hurt my voice so badly that I said, “I can’t scream, if you want me to be able to work, for like the next three days.” So, what I usually do is that I scream once in the season, and we’ll just use that scream, all throughout, or extend it, or do whatever we need to do. And then, I open my mouth and pretend like I’m screaming, the whole time. So, it’s a little secret, but in order to save my voice and work, I couldn’t actually scream.

I love that the dress Hope wears for Miss Mystic Falls turns out to have more meaning than even she realizes. What was your own personal reaction to learning about the dress that you’d be wearing and what the meaning was behind it?

RUSSELL: I was definitely surprised. I did a lot of thinking about it because, to me, it didn’t really seem like something that would cause the reaction that it did. I realized that it wasn’t just the dress. It was so many more things that had happened to Hope, between Landon and all of these different things that had happened that really forced her to just cry. The dress is just a literal reminder of the fact that she doesn’t have her dad, who is the person that she probably would have gone to about something like this. She doesn’t really have anyone, so it’s like seeing a little girl just needing her dad. The dress just happened to be playing that role. But it was definitely a process to try to get the dress to work because, obviously, it was made for someone seven inches taller than I am. I’m actually very short, so it was definitely a struggle. Our fashion department spent countless hours trying to make it work, and it did.

When you’re doing a Miss Mystic Falls episode, because it has played such a role in the lifespan of this universe, do you feel an extra sense of responsibility, in doing your version of that?

RUSSELL: Yeah. On the day of shooting it, I was like, “Oh, I’m Miss Mystic Falls.” I watched that episode of The Vampire Diaries when I was 11 years old, so on that day of shooting, I was like, “I’m Miss Mystic Falls. This is a little weird.” How life comes full circle, sometimes. Our director, Geoff Shotz, has done three other Miss Mystic Falls episodes, so I was jaded about the dress and he was jaded over doing the episode. He was like, “I can’t, with Miss Mystic Falls. This just never dies.” It was very funny, and we had a lot of fun.

What do you think about the relationship between Hope and Landon, at this point? Are you optimistic for their future, or are you just sort of always waiting for the other shoe to drop, especially on this show?

RUSSELL: I’m definitely always waiting for the other shoe to drop, but I think it’s the relationship that makes the most sense for Hope. Their journey together is gonna be one of ups and downs, but I have a lot of hope and faith in their love, and I know that they care for each other. We’ll see what happens with that. It definitely will play a huge part in how the season ends, but for now, just stay tuned.

What was your own reaction to finally learning what Landon actually is?

RUSSELL: I read that script in the hair and make-up trailer, literally seconds after production delivered it to everyone. I skimmed through it and got to the very end, and I literally started to scream. I was like, “Oh, my gosh, you guys aren’t gonna believe what Landon is!” I got everyone so excited about it, and I called Aria because he wasn’t on set. He had gone home because he wasn’t in the episode before that one, and I was like, “You have to call me back, as soon as you can. You’re not gonna believe what you are. It’s so cool!” I’ve been holding in this secret for so long. I’d do interviews and be like, “We’re gonna explore what Landon is, and we’ve never explored it before, in this way.” Now that it’s finally out, I can take a deep breath because everyone is experiencing what I’ve been experiencing for months.

It’s so cool that a universe like this, that’s been around for so many seasons and three different shows, can still find so many new aspects to explore. There’s been so much new stuff, this season, that I never expected, that’s made the show so cool to watch.

RUSSELL: Yes, I think so, too. What was important for Legacies to actually be a successful show is that we had to introduce new mythology. We definitely have, and it still lives in the same world, but these mythological creatures and beings and magic have also existed for millenniums, and they’re now revealing themselves in Legacies. It’s been a lot of fun to explore new mythology.

Are you surprised at how much “Hosie” has become a thing, and how much people are loving the idea of Hope and Josie?

RUSSELL: Yes! We’re very surprised. We talk about it, all the time. It’s funny because Kaylee [Bryant] and I call each other our wives. It’s why we started the whole Hosie thing, and it really caught on with people. We wanted to see that relationship happen when it was right, so in the alternate universe, you saw Hope and Josie get very flirty, I guess you could say. That definitely felt like the right time for that. If it doesn’t make sense, then obviously we would never want anything that doesn’t make sense to be in the show. But I think it definitely fit into the story, as well as it could.

Without giving anything away, what was your reaction, the first time that you read the season finale script? How did you feel about where Hope will be left, at the end of this season?

RUSSELL: I had heard rumors about how our season was gonna end, since the middle the season. We all talked about it and said, “Oh, my god, if the season ends that way, that would be so cool. It makes total sense.” Like everything, so much information had already been revealed, at that point, so it was something that made the most sense, for Hope and this entire world. So, when I finally got the script, I was very, very happy to see that that’s what happens, and I can’t wait for the audience to see it, too. I think it’s gonna really, really shock people.

Over the course of this season, Hope has gone from being totally closed off, emotionally, and pushing everyone away, to having friends, having a boyfriend, and opening herself up enough to actually care for people and to let people care about her. How do you feel about her evolution, this season? What has been your favorite thing about telling her story?

RUSSELL: I’ve really loved her evolution this season. I think that the only way for the character to develop properly, and to do justice to her and her process for what she’s gone through, was for her to love, and to develop relationships and friendships, so I’m happy that she’s beginning to do so. In the beginning of the season, she goes on a journey from being vengeful, and having vengeful reactions to people that have hurt her, to forgiving and to seeing her be loved, and that’s really been beautiful. I hope I can continue to do that. I have a lot of hopes for her, for Season 2, and I’m really excited to see what everyone thinks about how the season ends.

[brahms--heelshire]

My Murderous Angel 3/? (USUK)

(A/N): Hope you guys like Francis! He’s going to be important to the plot. :) Let’s all mutually agree to pretend that I stated that they slept for the entire night in chapter two. TWs in this one: vomit, killing, certain religious themes, and a character has hatred for holy stuff.

Once we arrived at what the GPS told me was our destination, I was parked in the driveway of a house. There were flowers in a contained box connected to the front of the house and dumb stickers in the front window.

Arthur got out of the car, so I did, too. He pointed to one of the stickers in the window. It featured two small wings with the caption ‘You’re not alone’.

“This is my friend’s place,” Arthur grumbled, “I didn’t want to drag him into any of this, because he’s not much of a fighter, but if we need someplace to stay, he’s our best bet.”

Arthur rapped on the door, looking at the man inside through the window.

A few moments later, the door was pulled open to reveal a man wearing an unbuttoned shirt.

“Ah, it’s Arthur!” The man said, giving my boyfriend a kiss on both cheeks.

“Yes, Francis. It’s me,” Arthur said, not looking very happy.

“Oh, you haven’t visited in so long! So what brings you to my humble abode?” He glanced over at me. “And who’s that hottie over there?”

“My boyfriend,” Arthur said with a smirk.

The man snorted, laughing loudly. He then took a few deep breaths, trying to compose himself. “I’m not sure if you are fucking with me or if you finally found love.”

“I’m Arthur’s boyfriend, for realsies,” I said, snaking my arm around my boyfriend’s waist.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Francis.” The man kissed me on both cheeks. In that moment, I knew that he was either very extra or French, likely both.

He walked into the house, gesturing for us to follow him.

“As for why we’re here,” Arthur said, “It’s kind of an emergency.”

“Does he know?” Francis asked quietly.

Arthur just nodded, a solemn expression on his face.

“Good. I hate wearing shirts.” Francis shrugged the shirt off of himself to reveal wings.

That made two angels who took their shirts off in front of me.

“Why don’t you guys just cut wing holes in your shirts?” I asked as Francis sat on the couch.

“We’re not allowed to show our wings to anyone besides angels, dimwit. That’s how I almost got executed in the middle ages.” Arthur opened one of Francis’s cabinets, pulling canned food out of it.

“That’s how you almost got what?!” I asked. I had guessed that Arthur had a different lifespan than a human, but I assumed that he was just a young angel.

“Oh, it was because you showed your wings? I thought it was because of your strange obsession with witchcraft.” Francis took a bite of an apple that was sitting on his coffee table.

“You might be right,” Arthur mumbled, tapping his chin, “I don’t quite remember.”

“So how do you two know each other?” I asked, feeling strangely protective of Arthur.

“There’s not much good company in Heaven. Everyone has a stick up their arse. Francis wasn’t the most boring person, so we ended up friends.” Arthur shrugged.

“Arthur is pretending to be cool, as always,” Francis said with a smirk, “He practically begged to be my friend.”

“Oh shut up, frog. You pestered me until I let you be my friend.” Arthur slammed the cabinet door shut.

“So how long do you two need to stay. I’ll make you crepes for dinner if you stay long enough. And Arthur, did you say that it was an emergency?” Francis didn’t take breaths between his sentences. I silently wondered how he hadn’t passed out.

“Likely just for the night. Well, it’s not really that bad. Just that a few demons got ahold of me. Alfred and I already killed one, though.” Arthur brushed it off.

“Arthur, that is most definitely an emergency,” Francis said, his face falling, “You can stay here as long as you wish.”

“Thank you,” Arthur replied.

The rest of the day went pretty much the same way as that. Francis was helpful. The crepes he made for dinner were delicious. Staying at his place was nice. It was comfortable, at the very least. Arthur and I slept in the guest room.

When we woke up in the morning, Francis wasn’t home. He left us a note on the table saying that he went out to buy groceries, and he probably wouldn’t be home before we left. It also said that there were three crepes in the fridge for us to take with us.

So we took the crepes and headed off to the next hotel that we had reservations at.

Unluckily for me, on the way, Arthur spotted a bar that piqued his interest. Which meant that I ended up stuck sitting on a bar stool next to my drunk-off-his-ass boyfriend who could barely stand up straight. I ended up having to help him outside without too much complaint. He did vomit a little bit in the parking lot.

“Get it all out before you get into my car, Mister Alcoholic.”

“Shut up. I’m- I’m not even drunk,” Arthur slurred. He then heaved until nothing came out.

“I’m not letting you sit in the front,” I said, opening the back door and laying him across the seats.

“Meanie,” he muttered, sticking his tongue out at me.

I got in the driver’s seat, making sure not to drive too recklessly or jostle Arthur around. I knew that the hotel I had a reservation at was only about twenty minutes away from there. It was dark and the roads were empty.

But a few minutes into the drive, I found a problem. Or I guess a problem found me. Either way, there was a man sitting on the hood of the car. I wouldn’t normally have cared, but he was blocking my view. And then I noticed the horns.

“Holy shit!” I practically shouted.

Arthur did not stir.

That meant I would have to deal with the demon, myself. I took the baseball bat out of the top of my bag and got out of the car, locking the door behind me.

“Why hello, Alfred,” the heavily-accented voice of the demon said.

“Funny. You’re actually trying with greetings. The last demon just,” my voice cracked, “The last demon just tried to kill us.”

“I do not take very much pleasure in killing an old friend,” he said. And then we made eye contact and I tried not to puke.

That was Ivan. We were sorta-friends, sorta-enemies in middle school before he moved back to Russia. I glanced back into the car and mentally cursed Arthur. If we survived, I wouldn’t let him drink another drop of alcohol in his life.

“I’m not letting you into the car,” I said, voice more croaky than it was before.

“And why not? I have nothing against killing that thing, but you could survive. Just give me the keys.” Ivan’s grin only grew wider as he spoke.

“No,” I said.

“Oh!” Ivan let out a laugh that chilled my spine. “You think that it really cares about you.”

“Shut up! Arthur’s my boyfriend. He loves me.”

“Alfred, that thing does not know love. It came from Heaven. Holy things can not love in the Earth way. Holy things can not feel anything for humans. All they feel is a desire to control them. They tell that humans have free will, but tell them that they will be condemned if they make the wrong choice. It’s not your boyfriend. It’s like a house arrest anklet.” Ivan had such scorn in his voice.

“Shut up!” I shut my eyes, swinging the bat. I felt a solid hit and opened my eyes to the sight of my bat melting to Ivan’s face. It looked like those videos where children melt their dolls, but it was real and it was in front of me. And as he fell to the ground, screaming in agony, I felt sick all over again. That was me who did that. I killed him. He was a living being, even if he was a demon. There were tears in my eyes as I watched it happen. I, then, leaned over the side of the road and heaved until there was nothing left in my stomach and I was a crying mess who killed someone. Eventually I went back to the car, taking my lucky baseball bat with me. Despite the skin on it, I needed luck. I needed something to go right for me.

And I drove to the hotel in silence- other than slight snores from Arthur- thinking about what a monster I was.

[dazais-guardian-angel]

I’m sorry this blog has been so dead-feeling and sporadic for a while now. Not that anyone probably cares, but if any of my followers somehow still enjoy following me, I’m sorry to you all. (tmi health issues below)

I haven’t “updated” in a long while, mostly because I don’t feel like I’m on the verge of dying anymore, like I did all throughout 2017 to maybe halfway through 2018; my health has been pretty stable for a while now. But it’s almost like once my thoughts didn’t have to be preoccupied with constant terror and depression of the worst kind 24/7, now it’s made room for other things to take hold of me. I don’t have panic attacks anymore (at least that I know of; I definitely had one the other night, though), but I have mental anxiety more than ever about really random and ridiculous things, and intrusive thoughts. I’ve gotten a lot of writing done but at the same time feel more unproductive than ever; I’ve always had bad executive dysfunction, but for the last couple months it’s felt worse. I’ve nearly dropped off of drawing entirely; I wish I did it more, but I’ll never be good enough and it’ll never get enough attention to feel like it’s worth the exhaustion it takes. And I probably have actual depression, if I didn’t before then I probably definitely do now; I’ve started to be able to tell the difference in my moods between days, where I feel really invigorated and into something and wanting to do something, and when I feel really down and can’t bring myself to do anything I mean even more than usual lol and feel like I want to cry sometimes for no reason.

I don’t feel as passionate about stuff anymore, which is probably a BIG WARNING SIGN cause I’ve heard other people say this, but yeah. I’m constantly feeling like I should go “give myself a break from writing”, so I just end up playing small, shorty video games that don’t hold my attention very well, instead of working on my backlog of big games that I know are gonna keep me busy for a while each once I start them... otherwise I just stay at my computer thinking that surely I’ll feel like writing something else soon, because I know deep down I want to work on filling my remaining ideas, and I know I can because I have been steadily uploading the last few months, but then I’ll just end up sitting here doing nothing in the end. Or if I get lucky, write. But it just feels like literally everything I do is happening at a snail’s pace now, for no reason. Getting through anime episodes now is tedious, at least for seasonal anime that I’m just trying out and not stuff I already know I’ll love. Keeping up with manga is hard too, I’m so behind on so many series, except for MHA because the chapters are short and weekly instead of monthly, which somehow helps. I like to read at night before sleeping, but I usually fall asleep so quickly after laying down, it’s frustrating. And none of this should matter because no one cares but me but I can’t stand it, especially when my anxiety is constantly making me worried about how long my lifespan is gonna be and that I need to hurry up and do shit quicker. :))))))

All of those mental health diagnoses are just speculation though, since I haven’t been officially looked at by anyone, cause we don’t know where to find anyone. Maybe adhd meds would help me, but who knows when I’ll be able to try any if I do, because I’m already taking so many physical health meds that my parents are always wary about adding unnecessary ones, especially since we’re so uneducated when it comes to the delicacies of mental health meds.

My health problem has morphed into a swallowing problem; I have extra saliva and mucus that gets “stuck” and won’t go down all the way unless I swallow a lot, and I can’t drink or eat anything anymore, which is literally the most agonizing thing in the world, I’m so thirsty (I’m still getting nutrition; please don’t ask how). I’ve done a couple tests and they’ve been fine, so no one knows what’s going on, and my parents have been lax about setting up to go to a better hospital because things aren’t urgent anymore like they used to be now that I have a reflux med. I mean, at least as far as I know; who tf knows what’s happening to me I also have leg nerve pain from sitting in a wheelchair all day every day, which is nothing new at all, it’s been a thing for years, but lately it’s been absolutely agonizing because I’m too underweight to pad my body and my wheelchair isn’t a good fit for me and getting the people to take the steps to change things takes literal months because they’re slow and lazy as molasses. My back is constantly tight too, to varying degrees, sometimes better, and I don’t know what that is, maybe anxiety, but that’s frustrating too cause it makes breathing ever so harder. So yeah, I’m not fearing for my life anymore, at least consciously, but things are still hard and I’m so tired that they’re still like this and they’re just making my mental health worse. I spend most days not doing anything, suffering in some small annoying way that’s enough to keep me from being able to focus on anything, and going to the relief of bed, to repeat forever.

I’m realizing that I’m just lonely. I’m so lonely. Everything is so different now than it was even three years ago; so many of my online friends are gone, even if we’re still mutuals on tumblr; the first online community I ever joined that first got me into online friendships and animanga has long since disbanded. Various mutuals on here I never really talked to but was used to seeing in my activity are gone. Other friends have changed slightly, though they’re still dear to me; I have new ones that are dear to me too, but yet others that I don’t feel a real connection with, and it feels like we’re just surface level acquaintances. One of my two closest and best of friends, one of the first friends I ever made years ago, abandoned me late last year, and to be honest I don’t know why. I did hurt her, but I feel confident in saying that it wasn’t to a degree that was unforgivable, or at least wasn’t worthy of a chance to redeem myself, so.... yeah, I don’t know why. She had changed a lot by that point, shut down a lot, and when I set her off and she left, it was as if all that time we’d spent so close together meant absolutely nothing anymore, had never happened... I don’t understand it. It hurts so much. I tried to contact her in other ways multiple times, by letter and by email, apologizing profusely, and she ignored all of them. It hurts and I’ve thought about it so much, I know I haven’t truly coped with it yet, but have only tried to ignore it, and I desperately need someone to tell me that I didn’t do anything wrong (at least, not wrong enough for that reaction). Cause right now I just still hate myself for it deep down, am so worried about her, worried about how she is right now, wish I knew what she was thinking/thought then, all because of my mistake..... I don’t understand, I don’t know what to do, and it makes me think that all this time I’ve been a lot more terrible of a person than I’ve ever known, and that I’ll just keep accidentally pushing people away by trying to get too close, just like her.

She abandoned me, the few “adult friends” I’ve had irl abandoned me and never talk to me anymore once they stopped working for us, so I guess I’m just cursed this way. The main thing is that I’m seeking and craving interactions with people that no one I know want to have; I love analyzing fiction and getting into the meta and all that stuff, said online friend who abandoned me and I were on nearly the same wavelength when it came to this kind of thing, and we talked for hours and hours about different series and what made them work and why they didn’t work, getting real Deep(tm), and going against popular fandom opinions we thought were wrong (cause we were/are in the minority who disagreed with some of the praise for certain big name series lmao) lol, and that was my normal for a few years... and to have all that be gone is so alien. We were going to collab on a fic together, and that barely got off the ground before she left. I’m dying to have it all back so much, but none of my other friends are into that kind of discussion like she was, and I feel like a piece of shit for acting like they’re “lesser” than her for that, but that’s basically how I’m unintentionally acting.... and I hate myself for it. But I can’t help it; I don’t know what to do. I just know I’m bursting at the seams practically with so much I want to talk about and do that I can’t and I’m so lonely and it’s all so frustrating and depressing and I’m so tired of it all. So aimless and tired and bored and unmotivated and afraid and wishing more than ever that I had 2016 back, before everything became so fucked up in so many ways.

I’m so sorry, anyone who’s friends with me now reading this; you’re all so important to me and I don’t mean to act like you’re not. I’m just sorry I’m such a mess. I need a new purpose, but I don’t know what that is. Maybe I should use this blog to write more meta posts, besides that one. Maybe I should actually post my fics here, although as everyone on tumblr knows, fics get even less notes than art does, so even though my MHA fics get a decent amount of attention as it is, maybe it wouldn’t matter if I put them here too. Is it obvious I’m just a lazy greedy lonely ass craving validation and attention and friendship at this point.......... lol......... I’m just a wreck, I feel so suppressed and aimless, trapped in a life that’s too suffocating and alone for me. And I don’t know how long I and this blog are going to stay this way, so........ I’m sorry, anyone who cares.

Thank you, everyone who’s followed me and still follow me; I appreciate you all so much, and haven’t forgotten a single one of you early ones I’ve talked to before. Hopefully eventually this blog will feel more alive again, eventually........ eventually.............. whenever I find what it is I need, somehow. In the meantime I’ll just keep reblogging MHA posts like a broken record I guess lol.

[anthonymanly]

For this post, we’ll go over organic Instagram growth strategies however it’s recommended you support these strategies with ads if you have the budget.

What defines Instagram growth?

For many business coaches, it’s the number of followers you have however to get new followers, you have to have a combination of increased engagement, brand exposure and content that’s compelling.  Why else would anyone follow you?

WARNING: Services that tout growth through purchased likes and followers are against Instagram’s service policies. These fake engagements actually harm your account and can get your account banned.

Learn more about your fan breakdown by age, gender and location to make sure your content is resonating.

Be Consistent

Get the basics down first.

Take a look at your posting schedule, posting frequency, and content quality. What are you doing well and what are your areas of improvement?

Posting on a consistent basis sets the expectation for your followers to look forward to the next post. Larger brands will post multiple times a day while small businesses may only post a few times a week.  Commit to a consistent schedule.

Consistency in content quality is important. There’s more noise on Instagram feeds these days and you need to stand out.  Stock photos won’t help grow Instagram followers as much as creating your own interesting content.

Content Production

Engagement now includes metrics such as Story replies, views of IGTV episodes, and Story mentions. And more content types mean there are more opportunities to increase your engagement rates and your organic Instagram growth.

If you’ve only done in-feed posts or tried out Stories sporadically, we recommend committing to a few Stories a week to establish consistency and plan content for it. With a variety of ways to use Stories as a method to grow Instagram followers, it’s an opportunity to see what resonates with your audience.

Content quality and posting consistently is important for account growth. Spend time learning how to take better photos and videos to help.

Promotions & contests

People love free or discounted things. But what marketers post is not always what consumers want. This mismatch means that there are missed opportunities for marketers in creating social content.

To grow your following and increase your brand presence on Instagram, run contests and promotions.  Make a requirement for the giveaway a follow for your brand.  If you’re consistent in your giveaways, such as monthly or quarterly, your followers will be more likely to stick around and look forward to the next one.

Promote cross-platform

Don’t silo yourself to Instagram only.  While you should target friends of current followers, there are other audiences to tap into.

How often do you talk about your Instagram account on your other social media platforms? Many people have multiple social accounts, and different platforms all have unique strengths, so consider offering a different type of content on Instagram than on Facebook, and direct followers on other social channels to your Instagram profile for exclusive offers or content.

You can also use another visual-heavy platform like Pinterest to extend the reach of Instagram content that might otherwise have a short lifespan on the platform’s highly active feed.

Share the wealth with influencers

Micro-influencers are those that have smaller followers but often a more engaged audience. These influencers have niches and are willing to work with brands that line up with their values.

Working with influencers establishes trust in your company. As they talk and post about your brand to their followers, your account will organically grow with them.

Engagement time

The most tried-and-proven method of growing your Instagram organically is to actively engage on your account. That means taking the time to leave comments on followers’ posts, answering questions, and reposting user-generated content.

Creating conversations and small chat groups to connect followers with each other is a part of building up your Instagram community. If you’re able to provide your followers with more than contests and company announcements, then you’re more likely to gain a loyal following that extends beyond social media.

To put this into action, there are several behaviors you can test out, including liking or responding to a customer and showcasing the brand’s personality through content.

Increasing your engagement time is a long-term strategy that will help grow your account over time.

P.S. Whenever you’re ready… here are 4 ways I can help you and your coaching business right now:

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Chat with me in messenger – we’ll talk about where you’re at and where you want to be.  And together we can look at what your next steps are to move the needle in your business.  CLICK HERE to chat with me in messenger

[raptorfiction]

A Bosmer, A Nord, A Khajiit, and an Argonian....

Cast:

Valys SageStalker: 67 years old, hunter and skilled apothecarian. Curmudgeonly, Matronly, and very down to earth. She prefers solitude and uneventful living

Bjorin Bjorksson: 23 years old, co-owner of Bjorksson’s General Goods. Excitable, adventurous, instigator. Always looking for the next adventure and trying to bring the people he considers friends along.

Bolverk Bjorksson: 32 years old. Owner of Bjorksson’s General Goods. Practical, Down to earth, welcoming. Unlike his younger brother, Bolverk is content to run his shop and live a rather peaceful existence. He is polite and welcoming to individuals of all races and gender.

Cracks-many-skulls: Early to mid 20’s.Jack-of-all-trades. Gentle, protective, cowardly. Despite his name, Skulls is actually a rather gentle individual who prefers to avoid conflict. When presented with it, he’ll either back away if it’s a verbal confrontation, or hide if it’s physical. Though he will do whatever it takes to protect friends.

T’ziva: Age unknown.Skilled thief and pickpocket. Playful, childish, lively. and  All work and no play makes T’ziva a dull girl. The high energy Khajiit prefers to play and pull pranks rather than take things seriously. If life’s not for having fun, what is it for??

Valys pauses for a moment as she looks over everything in her packs, going over the list in her head of things she had planned on taking in to town today. Satisfied that she had packed everything, she placed them on her pulley-hitched scaffold and lowered them to the ground. As for Valys herself, she was content just scrabbling her way down her tree house. It offered her the opportunity to keep her climbing skills sharp and to make sure no critters had been caught in her traps.

Luckily for her, nothing had today. Though usually it was some poor, unlucky bird or a frostbite spider that thought it would have an easy meal. Pleased at the lack of extra work, Valys shifted her packs to her hand wagon and proceeded to take off.

The trip wasn’t all that long, she only lived a mile or so outside of the village, but it was plenty enough space that she wouldn’t have to be pestered by self righteous Nords who thought anyone who wasn’t a Nord was trash. Not that all Nords were that way, but too many of them were. Easier to just stay away from them when she could.

As she strolled into town, she gave the obligatory head nod to those few who greeted her and continued on her path to the General Store. She parked her wagon outside the front door and hefted the rather large and heavy packs over her shoulders, stumbling through the front door.

“By Talos, woman!” Bolverk scolded, making his way around the counter to assist her. “You could have shouted, Bjorin or myself would have helped you.”

As he took a couple of the packs from her, Valys responded with a brusque grunt and dropped the others onto the floor. “I could have. But then I run the risk of your brother trying to convince me to join one of his idiotic expeditions.”

“Aye, I suppose that’s true.” Bolverk sighs, carrying her stuff into the stockroom to go over what was what and what she was owed.

“Besides, it’s a good workout for me.” Valys follows, dragging her merchandise along with her. “I have some good stuff for you today. Several pelts cleaned and as is. Some fashioned into clothing, others into blankets.” She points to the first pack. “Then some meat, cured and preserved. Goat, Elk, the usual. Dug up some clams and also some mudcrabs. That’s all preserved in jars.”

She gestured to the other pack he had been carrying as well as one of the packs she was dragging. “The rest are the usual poultices, potions, bundles of dried herbs.” She motions to the last, smallest pack of the group. “Should be enough to stock you through to the end of the month.”

“Aye, looks like you’ve got some good stock in here. A rather successful hunt it seems.” Bolverk tallies up the items in the first pack, tallying up totals and prices.

Suddenly, the sound of the front door being flung open resonates through the shop and Valys and Bolverk exchange glances. Heavy boot steps are heard crossing the floor followed shortly by a loud, booming voice.

“Valys’ wagon is outside! Where is she?!” Valys groans and glances about for a hiding place. But too late. “Valys!” Bolverk’s younger brother, Bjorik bursts in, arms wide open in welcome. The bulky Nord tromps forward, attempting to scoop the much smaller Bosmer up into a Nord sized bear hug.

Valys moves to evade it, but the close quarters of the stockroom leave her with almost no free room to maneuver. She soon finds herself crushed between large, bulky arms and a burly chest. Perhaps Bjorin didn’t know his own strength, but Valys soon found herself gasping for air, her ribcage squeezed in a rather painful manner, arms pinned to her sides.

She squirmed, her little legs kicking at Bjorin where she could make contact. And make contact she did. The toe of her fur lined shoe collided harshly with Bjorin’s groin, causing him to drop her and then drop to the ground himself, coughing and laughing. Valys however, didn’t find it quite as amusing, doubled over, hugging herself as she panted.

“What the hell was that?!” She aimed another kick at Bjorin, succeeding at nailing him in the side. As the giant toppled over, he laughed again. Valys pulled back to repeat the assault when a heavy hand on her shoulder stopped and calmed her.

Bolverk didn’t look much more pleased than Valys, though he approached his brother with a sense of calm, offering his hand to help him up. “Perhaps brother, you shouldn’t crush the person who is capable and probably willing to poison you when you aren’t looking.”

“Nah.” Bjorin takes his brother’s arm by the wrist with a loud clap, pulling himself up. “Valys wouldn’t do that. I’m far too charming.”

“You’re right, I wouldn’t.” Valys leans against a post, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’d just set you on fire.” With a snap of her fingers, a small flame lights at the tip of her index finger before she snuffs it out. “Waste of good meat, otherwise.”

The brothers seem unphased by her brand of humor--if it is humor. Bolverk claps his brother upside the back of his head before returning to his chore of tallying up all the inventory Valys had brought. Rubbing the back of his head, Bjorin turns to Valys, a fool’s grin from ear to ear plastered on his face.

“So Valys--”

“No. I’m going to stop you right there.” She cuts him off before he can continue on. “I’m not going on one of your ridiculous adventures. Do you remember what happened last time?”

“Yes, I remember what happened last time.” The Nord whines like a scolded child.

“What happened last time?” Her good eye swiveled onto him, with an almost piercing gaze.

“Your horse was killed and I was unconscious for three days.”

“Three days.” She reiterates. “AND you lost me my horse. So now I have to haul this shit into town by myself.” She’s nearly fuming as she glowers  at the much, much taller individual.

“But this time will be different.” He pleads with her, falling to his knees. Now just half a head taller than her, he flings his arms around her waist and gives her the biggest puppy dog look possible.

“No.” She pushes him off and stalks off towards the front of the shop.

“But Valys…” He stumbles to his feet and follows. “I’m bringing backup this time.”

“Back up?” She scoffs. “Who was stupid enough to allow you to con them into going…. Wherever you’re going this time?”

“Old tomb about a day’s hike east of here. Stories say there’s some sort of treasure or reward buried way deep down.”

“Because stories are never made up.” Valys snorts. “And you never told me who you convinced to go with you.”

“Cracks-many-Skulls.” He says almost triumphantly.

“Cracks-many-Skulls. The Argonian.” She mutters in disbelief. “The super nice one who’s always taking up odd jobs to help people out?”

“Yes.”

“The one who’s so sensitive he cries when a child stumbles and scrapes their knee.” She asks.

“...Yes.”

“The one who’s practically afraid of his own shadow and runs away at the first sign of conflict.” Valys adds to her commentary.

“....Yeah…”

“Oh bravo.” She comments with all the sarcasm in her being. “Nothing will be able to defy you now.”

“I have more than just him!” Bjorin retorts.

“What? A wet piece of parchment? Ooooh. Those draugr better beware!” She scoffs and brushes Bjorin off. “The answer is no. If you want to get yourself killed, leave me out of it.” And with that, she pushes past him back into the storage room.

Bjorin, looking rather put out and disheartened, picked himself off of the floor. Hiking his trousers up, he sets his jaw and saunters off, out of the shop to prepare himself.

Upon her return, Bolverk has two small pouches of septims ready and waiting for Valys. The Bosmer eyes them suspiciously, and then eyes Bolverk in much the same manner. “What’s that? I know my merchandise isn’t worth that many septims. What are you up to?”

“You know he’s going to get himself killed…” Bolverk begins.

“No.”

“He needs an experienced hand--”

“No.”

“Someone who can steer him clear of real danger--”

“I said, no!”

“Valys…”

“Why don’t you do it, if you’re so concerned! He’s your brother!” Valys snaps, arms crossed over her chest.

“Because someone needs to run the shop. How is your merchandise going to sell if no one is here to sell it?” Bolverk answers calmly. “And besides, he doesn’t listen so well to me. You, on the other hand… he listens to.”

“Like hell he does.”

“He does.” Bolverk assures her. “Because you’re experienced.” He pauses for a moment before carrying on. “And because he’s sweet on you.”

“Oh for the love of Akatosh…” She rolls her eyes. “I’m old enough to be his grandmother.”

“Yes, but you know you elves have different lifespans than us non-mer folk.”

“Which brings me to another point.” She lifts a finger. “I’m not even a Nord!”

“After all this time, do you really think it bothers us?” Bolverk arches an eyebrow, looking almost offended.

“Fine, I’ll give you that one.” She concedes. “But I still don’t understand it. Nor do I like it.”

“You don’t have to. Just use it to keep him from doing something irrevocably stupid.”

Valys stares at Bolverk for a moment, likely imagining him on fire. Eventually she lets out an irritated and defeated sigh, hands falling to her sides.

“Fine.” She points a finger at him. “But you owe me.”

“That’s what the gold is for.”

“Fuck your gold.” She waves her hand dismissively. “I don’t want it. Keep it. You owe me. A favor. A big one. To be called in when I need it. Understood?”

Bolverk stared down at her for several long minutes, weighing his options. Finally, he extends a large hand, big enough to wrap around her head. “Deal. One large favor to be called in when it’s needed.”

Valys shakes his hand and lets out another annoyed sigh. “I assume he’s already got supplies prepared?”

“This is my brother we’re speaking of.”

“Naturally.” She rolls her eyes and starts stalking off towards the front door. “Better go find him and make sure he doesn’t die just getting out of town…”

[matchappucino]

File: 001 - The Lady

『❀』 “In a garden of flowers, chéri--you are the most beautiful.” (uttered to Emmanuel before their duel)

Name: Cordelia Mévouilenet (Dreamer)

Rabbit: Mimi 

『❆』 “Hello, have you eaten well today?”

Name: Lady Cordelia Mévouilenet (Awake)

Given Name: Cordelia Maria Chastain (abandoned)

Name Origin: Cordelia is of Celtic Origin, meaning “Heart; daughter of the sea.”

Mévouilenet is a name she thought of herself, after the Incident. Her given name, “Cordelia Maria Chastain,” means Daughter of the Sea + “Sea of Bitterness/Wished-for Child” + “Borne from a place with certain chestnut trees.”

Age: 24

Height: 150cm/5’0

Weight: 110lbs/49kg

Nationality: French-English

Short Description: A shy and polite young lady, until provoked to anger. Raised by a noblewoman and a Dream Mage, Cordelia is good at casual conversation (though if she is entertaining more than three people for a long time, she will grow very tired.)

A Dream Mage, Cordelia creates weapons and other items in the Dream Realm, while her waking body is asleep. She then pulls out these created items from within Mimi, her stuffed rabbit. Her other hobby is creating perfumes from plants she grows in Fleur-De-Lis, her realm.

Nickname: Lady comes from the Virgin Mary’s other names, “Madonna” (Italian for “Lady.”)  

Birthday: January 13, 1996

Zodiac: Capricorn

Occupation: Dream Mage | HCC Host (unofficial) | Barmaid

Species: Human

Gender: Female

Sexuality: Demisexual (Only when an emotional connection is achieved does she think of someone as a potential romantic partner. Actually getting to the point where Lady considers forming a relationship is another thing altogether.)

Significant Other: None

Pact With: Beelzebub, the Avatar of Gluttony

Position: Presenting herself as a dom, Cordelia wants nothing more than to find an individual who loves her enough to convince her to relinquish the desire to control. She sways from a sensual dom to a switch, depending on her partner.

Family (&Friends): Cordelia adored her father, Jacques Anton Chastain—a French Dream Mage renowned for his talents in creating weaponry that was both elegant and unique. He taught her everything she knew about creation magic (although those moments were rare and fleeting.)

Vivienne Maria Chastain was a noblewoman who had half-elf blood flowing through her veins. She practiced healing magic and had “random” premonitions about the future. This makes Cordelia 1/4th of an elfin, although it does not affect her lifespan. She merely ages slower than most humans. Growing up, Cordelia and Vivienne were not close—she despised her mother for being too strict, whereas Jacques was kind and spoiled his daughter. Ironically, the night before The Incident, Vivienne expressed how she wanted to spend more time with her.

One of her most beloved friends is Mimi, a stuffed rabbit she and her father made together in the Dream Realm. She keeps it lovingly and uses it as a place to store her toys and other weaponry. Afraid of being used and rejected, Cordelia keeps people at arm’s length.

Friends: 

Dominic Bellazzi: A man Cordelia would protect to the death. She was friends with the Italian inventor for around five years before having a brief three-year relationship with him. The two remain close friends and send each other gifts in the mail. He still calls her cara mia.

Emmanuel: One summer evening, she was tending to her flowers when a pair of strange shoes appeared before her. He attempted to eat her soul in the Dream Realm, but she fought back and beat him. He visits her from time to time, bothering her for tea and a friendly chat. It's a complicated friendship.

"Doll, do you have time for me tonight?" Emmanuel smirked as he waited at her doorstep.

"There's a pot of tea with your name on it if you make it worth my while." Cordelia placed a hand on her hip, annoyed. "Especially since I was in the middle of making something, Emmanuel."

The blonde man grinned, his fangs on display. "I think I've got a tale or two worth repeating, just for you."

Physical Description: Cordelia has waist-length platinum-blonde hair that ombres into pastel rainbow colors at the ends. In both Waking and Dreams, her eyes are stormy grey. 

Face claim: Vocaloid Mayu

Personality: A well-mannered young woman, Lady is polite and friendly to everyone she meets. She expects the same treatment out of everyone and is quick to anger if someone is not “behaving properly.” However, she is painfully shy and will only open her heart to people over long periods of time.

Once people get to know her, she is a sweet and generous soul who is fiercely loyal to those who earn her trust. Unfortunately, the reverse is true as well—if her trust is broken, Cordelia never gives her trust fully again. Selfish and spoiled, she is often too busy worrying about herself and her demon to consider other people’s feelings on a deeper level. Caring for Beelzebub has given her a softness, but her emotions can quickly turn from overprotective to downright obsessive.

She tries to suppress a jealous streak and a need to control her environment, to ensure the people and things she holds dear remains safe.

Backstory: Cordelia’s birth was one of immense joy for her parents—they had been trying for eight years to conceive. Even among the Dreamers, female mages were rare. So, when Jacques discovered his eight-year-old daughter wandering in his realm, he was nothing short of overjoyed.

When the couple discovered Cordelia’s immense magical potential, they tried to raise her to have a normal life instead of handing her over to the Magi. It would be one of their major regrets in life.

Without proper training from more experienced magisters, Cordelia’s excess magic caused several side effects. She stopped growing after her 15th birthday and developed severe insomnia that prohibited her from getting a full night’s sleep. Instead of getting the standard 13 to 48 hours of rest, she only managed to get 5 to 8 hours of sleep a day.

To compensate, Cordelia began to maximize her time within the realm whenever she was present. The result was a deceptively sweet world full of dolls wielding knives, explosions, and flowers spitting out poison. Life was good until she woke up one day to a home in flames, and a man with ice-blue eyes staring back at her.

It had taken them nearly sixteen years, but the Magi finally found her. From what she saw, her parents put up a great fight—nearly all the soldiers were strewn dead on the floor, save for three. “Come with us, heretic. You need to be trained before your magic completely goes awry.”

Terrified and unsure, Cordelia followed, not even allowed to see her parents’ bodies. She harbored an immense anger toward them—especially for Henry, the Inquisitor with ice-blue eyes. But she needed help with controlling her powers, and perhaps they had something to fight the insomnia.

Ongoing Story: Things in the Magi Camp weren’t much better. Being of noble birth, Cordelia was given better lodgings than most but was mostly friendless—she was one of 20 female mages present—and so focused on trying to control her powers. She was given a sleeping draught twice a month whenever her insomnia prevented her from attending regular classes.

She began to learn of the true Dream Realm her father worked so hard to protect her from—mages that walked the planes were fated to hunt and destroy demons and other creatures that skulked around the edges of the Dream Realm, preying upon lesser folk.

With her issue of being unable to sleep at will, Cordelia was chosen to guard the “back line,” often becoming a healer just like her mother once was. In her spare time, she collects the ingredients required to create her sleeping draught. Being part of the Magi helped bring up her sleep quota from 5 to 8 hours to a respectable 12, and the draught helped her rest for nearly a week.

Once again, however—things take an unsavory turn when a First-Class Vampire made his way inside the Magi’s tower and began to pick off the students, one by one. Out of sheer desperation, the remaining students asked Cordelia to help them summon a demon; one that could possibly match up against the vampire.

She does so, following the students’ instructions to draw the spell circle. They had an ulterior motive, however—she was going to be the sacrifice in exchange for the demon’s services. At the last moment, she completed the summoning and in exchange, the remaining student body was taken instead of her.

It was said that the demon one summons isn’t dependent on the wants, but of what was needed at the time. So, when Beelzebub appeared from the portal and introduced himself as the Avatar of Gluttony, Cordelia found herself smiling at him. He was the friendliest face she had seen in quite some time. With his help, the Vampire was cornered in Henry’s room, and was taken out quickly.

While unhappy with what happened to the rest of the students, Henry had to admit that being able to summon and control one of the Seven Demon Brothers took skill and energy. Henry was about to take her in as his sole apprentice—until Beelzebub opened his monstrous jaws and swallowed him whole. Without anything binding her to the Magi’s Camp and with a demon at her disposal, Cordelia was free to roam as she pleased—and continues to protect her realm whenever she can.

For the Magi’s Camp has a long memory, and she was forever listed as an inkblot that could become a dangerous foe. Using the remaining magical energy from the Magi Camp, Cordelia opens a portal and steps inside. Her travels eventually led her to the HCC, where she works for her own amusement and extra pay.

She has taken the name Lady to distinguish the people who know her from her previous life to the one she has built for herself. From time to time, she takes on contracts—anything from assassination to a personal assistant—to keep her pockets lined with enough guineas to send her demon a regular allowance.

And with Beelzebub as a popular host at the club, Lady can focus on other magical matters—right now, however, a certain visitor to her realm is determined to interrupt her creativity…

Likes: Beelzebub, sweets, money, music, cute things

Dislikes: Rudeness, being manipulated, being forced to do something against her will, sharing Beel (although if he tells her that he has found someone special, she will indulge him, because she loves her pact demon)

Strengths: Generous, Loyal, Patient, Persistent

Neutral: Realistic, Ambitious

Weaknesses: Reticent, selfish, greedy, prone to jealousy

Defense Mechanism: Neurotic Repression. If things don’t go her way, the Lady will repress her negative feelings, preferring to deal with it by herself while protecting her home. When the “proper” outlet is unavailable, the Lady will simply shut down and deny anything is wrong.

Biggest Fear/s: Rejection, Helplessness

Extra: Humans will know Cordelia as “Lady,” but magical beings can sense that is not her real name. Residents who can visit dreams know her true name.

[justdictatorshipthings]

Do more

There is a tendency in our society to blame other for problems and to not contribute at all to fixing the problem. In the case of climate change, we actually could do more, even if the government doesn’t want to. Complaining is only going to get you so far. So here is a list of ways to help create a better future, rather than running in to problems and trying to fix them. At that point its already too late.

If everyone did at least one of these things, it wouldn’t matter what the government does or doesn’t do.

- Plant trees, and flowers for our bees. The means that there will be even more plants in the long term as bees and butterflies are responsible for propagating plants..There is a lot to be said about what to plant. Things like spider plants take up little space but can photosynthesize a lot more than plants that are much bigger. Australian native plants have high levels of pollen and require little water.

- Use high octane fuel every once in a while to clean you engine to ensure it runs as efficiently as possible. Car maintenance is important for the environment also. A car that isn’t well looked after is much less efficient then the same car that has been looked after. A car is a privilege and it should be seen as such.

- Take public transport more, use your car only when necessary. If you are going to take an Uber, use the option to share your ride when possible. Otherwise everything from electric scooters to bikes are convenient ways of traveling.I like parking a fair distance from where i have to go and walking. It doesn’t make much of a difference but it is healthier for you.

- Recycle, make sure what goes in to the bin is recycled. You don’t have to worry about cleaning it. Its more efficient to let the people in charge of recycling clean it (obviously don’t be lazy and leave a whole pizza in a box). But this only works if they get only materials that can be recycled. So always be sure to not put trash in your recycling.

- Make compost, its so easy, even if you give it to someone else that has a garden. Biodegradable waste won’t return to nature if it ends up in landfill. It will probably be buried in an airtight container to prevent any leaking of hazardous materials. Because people put too much dangerous stuff in their trash.

- Travel less, its good for the economy to take holidays in your own country, your money won’t go as far as in other countries, but it may make your own country a nicer place to be.

- Write letters to companies, governments, or any one that will listen about their irresponsible practices. I think in the case of the plastic bag ban, which has made Coles and Woolworths some $71 million in profit. It shows you that even if there is more money in doing good. Unless we push companies to do it, they won’t.

- Dim your TV, computer screens and everything else. Its amazing how much difference to your energy bill this will make over a year.

- Unplug appliances at the power board. Most people don’t realize those plug packs like that on your phone uses, are always on and using energy even when they aren’t charging your phone. The general rule is, if it has a light, it is also using energy.

- Use less air-conditioning, especially when in the car. It is amazing how much energy it uses. You are better off not having anything connected to the cigarette lighters also unless you are actually charging a device. This won’t make as much difference as the air con though. Even in the most efficient of cars (actually especially in efficient cars) it can double your fuel consumption. Sweating is healthy for you, just not practical in every situation. The same goes for stereos and other electronics connected to your car.

- Turn off your phone when you aren’t using it, so many people leave their phones on at night, if you need it to wake up its one thing. but even then you could put it in to airplane mode (or buy a really efficient alarm clock). Some phones will actually turn on for alarms, which should give you an idea of the fact that nothing is really off these days.

- Always make sure your washing machine is full, never do a small load, the older your washing machine is the more true this is. Few washing machines regulate the power going to the motor, so the consumption is the same for a small load as much as a large one.

- Sponsor animals before they become endangered. This ensures that in an emergency, they will be looked after when it matters. Rather than when its too late. Visit wild life parks that help animals, learn about them. Having a connection to the world around you makes it easier to remember why to care about it.

- Avoid anything smart. When you think about it, smart light bulbs are a light, that is connected to a mini computer running an always on server. While convenient, at times this extra functionality uses more electricity than it will ever save.

- Prepare your shopping in advanced, eat before you do it. That way you will be able to make as few trips to the supermarket as possible. While you are there, avoid anything packaged where possible, buy more veggies and less meat.

- If you can afford to, collect rainwater. Its always handy and its not expensive to set up. In fact concessions should be given to people who do collect their own rain water. Otherwise it just gets wasted. Councils should probably sell rain water collection tanks at pumps at cost. More people would have them if they did this. This would reduce the burden on our water system.

- While there has been a big push for solar, consider wind. Modern wind turbines for homes aren’t that bad looking. Efforts are still being made to make them look like works of futurist art. This will continue. If you live in the bottom half of Australia, you will generate more electricity this way than with solar.

- Avoid streaming where possible, any thing cloud related is also bad. This requires ridiculous amounts of energy, and grows every year. The past few years has seen more data stored than all the other years that came before it combined. This is a waste, in any way you can, avoid using these types of services. Peer 2 peer networks are probably more efficient, because they don’t require the peak demand capacity that cloud services do. An example would be to download your favorite Spotify tracks rather than always streaming them. Watch free to air TV first. Store everything on local hard drives.

- Limit how many pets you have. Where possible source sustainable food for them. Kangaroo meat has to be one of the most sustainable meats in the world. Its very healthy and from my experience all pets love it. You can buy it in bulk and in some cases without packaging.

- There is so much inefficiency in our materialist world. For example horizontal fridges are much more efficient than vertical ones. While it may not be practical for everyone, there is always a more efficient alternative if you can afford it and it suits your needs.

- Avoid upgrading technology as much as possible. Buy a product that has a long life to begin with. I usually spend a little extra on my computers, not for performance reasons, they are actually pretty slow (aka efficient) computers. But they are made of quality components that last. I use my computers professionally, they are both 6 years old. An upgrade would be me spoiling myself, but the truth is they still give me everything I need. This is a relatively new thing, which is why so many people believe that technology has a shorter lifespan than it does. Chances are if you have a slow computer, it needs to be serviced, such as putting new thermal compound on the fan, removing the dust, or clean installing the operating system. Speed advancements in technology haven’t been happening as much as they used to, in most cases  its smaller and more efficient, but not faster.

- A recent MIT study found that buying online is more efficient. When you think about the amount of energy that goes in to the climate control systems of large stores. Then the driving to and from these places. Where possible, buy online, have it shipped using standard (non express shipping). The amount of times i have paid for express and not needed that quickly is ridiculous.

- Use nature to its best advantage. I always have a lot of plants around where i live to help reduce the strain the weather causes on the internal house temperatures. Its annoying that its not a widely accepted concept, but some councils will issue grants for plants on roofs or walls. They are a really good form of insulation from both hot and cold.

- Old heating and cooking systems are pretty efficient, as they served the purpose of both heat and cooking. you can still buy these systems, they have been modernized a bit. Though if more companies made combined heating and cooking appliances, combined washing and toilet facilities, etc. These save a lot of money over time. Even just in commercial premises where this would be more practical.

- Fuck grass. Seriously, that low level turf is an outdated sign of status. The whole point of it was that you had so much space, you could devote it to nothing, that’s how privileged you are. But its so common here. If you were to replace it with big lush native grasses. It would not only look better (because some of them grow up to two meters and look amazing), but it would make an enormous difference to the environment, both in terms of reducing pollution and in the amount of water it uses.

- If you are terrible with plants, a brown thumb as they call it. Plant succulents. All you have to do, is find someone that has one, ask for them to break you off a piece, and stick it in the ground, preferably where it won’t get sunlight all day if you don’t want to have to water them. That’s it, they will grow, if you water them once a week they will grow faster. Its better than nothing and some of the colours and flowers they grow makes them an attractive alternative.

- I don’t have undercover parking, so i throw a cheap tarp over the car. It looks like i am hiding in the jungle from air raids, but the reality is it keeps the car cool so i don’t need to crank up the air-con when i leave. A tarp is much easier than those annoying reflector thing on your windshield. Though if you have the 150$ spare, its worth getting at least 50% window tinting on your car. It usually comes with a life time warranty. It will pay itself off in terms of the car looking new for longer and all by using less air condition.

- Plan your garden beds. Put a water proof material underneath them, then stones above this material. What this does is create a natural reservoir that stores rain water underneath the roots. You will water more than 50% less which is a great productivity gain. There are also ways to create impressive gardens that need to be watered 3 times a year. This is worth researching.

- Start a harvest collective. If you can grow one vegetable better than others, don’t wast your time growing other plants. Just grow that, then encourage your friends to grow something else. You can then share your harvests rather than having to plant lots of different things. Growing at home is good for so many reasons. Also use organic seaweed fertilizers, they are amazing.

- Its amazing how much energy a Sunday roast uses to cook. Then there is the whole thing that the air quality in your home actually hits toxic levels, because fat is essentially a fuel that is burning while your roast cooks. So even if you eat meat, there is ways to do this in a more sustainable fashion.

- This is why i recommend convection ovens, aka air “fryers”. They are just much smaller and efficient electric ovens. They require no time to heat up, and will usually cook items in less time. In probably 80% of cases, if i need to heat up something or cook it from frozen, i can do it in an air “fryer”.

- Natural pools are the best. This is where you use plants and nature to clean your pool rather than using chemicals. Yes its a little more like swimming in a lake, but if its done the right way its actually healthier than swimming in chlorine. Its also good for the environment. Great advancements have been made in this field, you should google it if you are considering a pool, or would like to stop using chemicals on an existing one.

- Eat seasonally. Its not that hard to look for what is cheap. Supermarkets aren’t great at this but green grocers will have more variety. Its important for biodiversity to grow as many different species as possible. So buying different varieties of your favorites is not only healthy for you, but its good for the environment.

- Its sad that due to the industrialization of our agriculture system, fruit and vegetables are grown to look good and last in storage. What they aren’t grown to be is tasty any more, because there is no way you can fake that. This is why i recommend farmers markets and organic, its a lot easier to finish your vegetables when they taste the way nature intended them to. Trust me on this one, we hate fruit and vegetables so much, we see them as a chore, because over the last 100 years we have systematically killed their taste.

- Then of course there is the whole, plants aren’t going to taste as nice as something made in a lab that is designed to maximize the reaction by your taste receptors.This is why you should avoid process foods because their alter your taste buds, and make it harder to enjoy nature. Just like our phones do to our bodies. Just like air condition does to going outside.

I’m sure there are plenty more, please feel free to add any ideas in to the comments section.

[sofeyhh]

BTS Metahuman Au

Part 9 / ?

Nights in Tokyo has always been so lively, keeping you awake at every tick of the clock. From the never-ending traffic to the blaring lights of a million neon signs, it can rival New York’s Time Square easily. Yoongi’s apartment was seedy, tiny and nothing to be bragged about. But beyond the four mouldy walls, the vibrant nightlife of Tokyo was evident - the crammed noodle shop he frequented, the coloured lanterns strung uncoordinatedly and the crowd of bodies pushing through the narrow alleyways. It easily overcame his shitty situation.

Yoongi leans over the rusty railing, its peeling blue paint catching onto the sleeves of his hoodie. It had been raining the entire day, keeping the group of six holed up in his apartment. He always found Tokyo the prettiest after a downpour. There was something about the slick pavements and the neon lights shining through drops of water that gets Yoongi in a good mood.

He hears the sliding door open with a creak, followed by hesitant footsteps hovering behind him. “Isn’t it bewitching?” he asks, urging for his unknown guest to join him at appreciating Tokyo’s beauty.

“Have you seen Singapore? We had dinner once at a restaurant overlooking the Singapore river. Amazing.”

Taehyung comes up to his right, leaning his chin on his folded arms. He looks at Yoongi with big brown puppy eyes, the same ones that Yoongi missed so much. Till this day, it hasn’t lost the spark of innocence.

“No, I’d have to say Chicago.”

Yoongi finds Jin appearing to his left with his sweet smile. His own lips cracks a smile, though barely. It tugs back into a grim line from the conscious guilt he felt. They had made a pact, him and Jin, to never part ways no matter what happens. Yet decades later, he shatters their promise, leaving Jin to fend the world by himself. Yoongi still had the memory of Jin broken and hurt, kneeling and begging for him to come back. It was ingrained in him forever.cracks a smile, though barely. It tugs back into a grim line from the conscious guilt he felt. They had made a pact, him and Jin, to never part ways no matter what happens. Yet decades later, he shatters their promise, leaving Jin to fend the world by himself. Yoongi still had the memory of Jin broken and hurt, kneeling and begging for him to come back. It was ingrained in him forever.

“You only like Chicago because of the Bean,” Taehyung teases him.

Yoongi chuckles softly and shakes his head. “None of those cities are comparable contenders. They don’t have that essence of magic like Tokyo.”

His two new companions kept quiet, having no need to challenge Yoongi’s words. They knew, if there was something he admired to a deep extent, it was probably for a good reason. And so the three of them stood by the railing, the cold seeping into their bones as they enjoy the rainy night.

Out of nowhere, Taehyung wraps his arms around Yoongi and buries his face in his neck. “I miss you. So much.” His voice was soft, almost non-existent.

Yoongi could practically hear the pout in his words. And it hurt him, striking him deep into his heart. He hadn’t realised his departure would leave Taehyung grieving too. Why had he been so rash?

“We all did,” Jin said. He held onto Yoongi’s hand like it was a precious gem.

“I doubt Na-”

“Even, Namjoon,” he interrupted Yoongi’s protest. “The idea of him missing you isn’t that atrocious. He has voiced out many times about wanting to make peace.”

Yoongi sighs, exasperated from having to deal with the internal struggle in him - caused by Kim Namjoon. They agreed to move on sure, but that didn’t keep him from still biting the bitterness in the crack of their relationship. In the situation they’re in now, are they really at peace or is it just a facade put up by both of them? Fuck, how do they even try to iron out the crinkles - dual it out?

“Or just talk it out,” Taehyung muttered.

Yoongi shoves the timid boy away, holding him at arm’s length. “You were reading my thoughts?!” He frowns and gave Taehyung a look. There were many things that flipped him off and having his mind read, his private thoughts exposed, was one of them.

“I’m sorry! I can’t help it, you know that! You were so close, your thoughts practically seeped out of your brain and into my ears and I mean maybe it was a great thing that I heard because you need help figuring out your shit.”

Taehyung’s rambling turned into a rant and as soon as the last word slipped out of his mouth, he gasps and clamps his hand over it. “Sorry,” he whispers with a shrug.

His frown softens and turns into a playful smile. “Rascal,” Yoongi chuckles as he ruffles Taehyung’s brown hair.  

“Tsk, I forgot how bad of an influence you are on him. The second you appear he’s all brazen and cheeky,” Jin snorted.

“Hey!” Yoongi gasps before laughing. He loved that they fell back to their usual banter. It brought him back to the old days.

---

Jimin creaks the door open, cringing when the hinges whined loudly. He had been designated to sleep in Yoongi’s room by Yoongi himself. His offer had surprised everyone, not only Jimin. And if anyone had seen his reddening cheeks, they didn’t point it out. It had been an hour now since he’d been waiting up for Yoongi - he was eager to get his questions answered.

On the sofa, laid Namjoon, his long legs dangling off the armrest. His snores rumbled in the air, startling Jimin. It caught him off guard that he stumbled backwards, his heels almost sinking into Jungkook’s thighs. In a flash, he runs to the other side of the room, sticking himself to the walls. Being slow has never been strength - it made him clumsy. Jimin dashes again to the sliding doors, hiding in the grey curtains.

He peeks out to see Yoongi with Jin and Taehyung laughing over a joke one of them had cracked. His heart jumps to see Yoongi’s gummy smile and scrunched up nose. It was pure adorableness that makes the butterflies in his tummy flutter. Jimin bites his lip, trying to decide if he should join them. He didn’t want Yoongi to think he was being clingy. The guy had only met him for god’s sake.

---

“What’s wrong?” Jin asks after seeing Taehyung’s attention divert back to the sliding door a couple of times now.

Taehyung had been feeling the presence of an extra soul lingering around them. He walks over to the sliding doors and throws the curtains open, finding a frozen pink haired boy with his mouth wide open.

“I was...just...uh walking around,” Jimin stuttered, giving his most persuading grin.

“Right,” Taehyung chuckles. He gestures Jimin to join them with a wave of a hand.

He had been interested in getting to know their new companion. It’s been awhile since they’ve had someone interesting that Taehyung didn’t already know everything about. Having telepathy isn’t quite a blessing as people might put it out to be. In fact, it’s a curse all on its own - the number of times Taehyung has to hear Jin and Namjoon’s dirty thoughts about each other makes him want to saw off his ears.

Unlike Namjoon, he couldn’t control the thoughts that seeped in. His older friend chooses the minds he wants to read. But Taehyung hears every thoughts and whisper of the people around him without a second to spare, like water rushing down a narrow stream. Namjoon has been teaching him to block the unwanted voices but sometimes it gets a little too much.

Jimin settles himself beside Taehyung, trying to keep a distance between him and Yoongi. For some reason, being around him while there were others made it harder to keep his blushing cheeks a secret.

Taehyung slings an arm around his shoulders, tugging him closer. “So, tell me, where have you been and why is that Namjoon wasn’t able to track you down?”

“I’ve been everywhere and anywhere,” Jimin chuckles. “Regarding the tracking, I don’t know either. Maybe he wasn’t looking hard enough.”

With his ability, he’s managed to visit every country in the world in his lifespan. He practically lived as a tourist the whole of his life, exploring every corner of the world and getting to know the different cultures that exist. But unlike the average tourists, he hasn’t exactly used the legal ways of transporting to get to his destinations. Jimin wasn’t proud of it but he has used his abilities to steal and cross borders without a passport. It wasn’t as if anyone has caught him before.

“No, I think our Namjoon has gotten old in the brains and couldn’t up with you,” Yoongi said.

The smirk he gave Jimin was burnt in his memories forever. It was the definition of sexy and cheeky and Jimin almost fell on his butt right there and then. The raven haired boy was so intoxicating to Jimin. He was pining for him with all his desire.

“Uh Jin,” Taehyung coughed as he stifles a laugh. It wasn’t his fault that Jimin’s lust filled thoughts suddenly occupied his head. “You and I, need to leave these two alone.”

“What? Why?” Jin whines and pouts. He still had so much he wanted to talk to Yoongi about. It’s been ages since he last saw his friend.

Taehyung grabbed him by his wrists and dragged him in, not spilling a word. They’ve only met the pink haired boy and he wasn’t about to embarrass him in front of his crush. He was definitely keeping an eye out for them in the future. Yoongi has been so grumpy since his time in San Francisco circa 1940 and maybe Jimin was just what he needed.

---

“There’s a possibility that he read your thoughts,” Yoongi said as a matter-of-fact. It wasn’t his attention to frighten the kid.

“What?!” Jimin exclaimed with wide eyes. His cheeks were undoubtedly red as he stumbled over his words. “Are you sure? Or are you just playing with me? Did he really read my mind? How do you know?”

Seeing the kid fumble around with a mortified expression amused Yoongi. From the short time he’d known Jimin, he’s always seen him as assertive and unbashful. This side of him was new to Yoongi.

“Were you thinking about fucking me or something? Is that why you’re so concerned if Taehyung had read your mind?” Yoongi teased.

Fucking him? Jimin’s lips spoke silent words like a gulping goldfish. The thought of Yoongi knowing his true desire made him look like a deer caught in headlights - frozen with a fused brain. No, was all he could manage. And even then, the word came out barely audible. Jimin clears his throat and tears his eyes away from Yoongi, suddenly finding the broken bicycle lying helplessly on the sidewalk interesting. Then again, he couldn’t stare at it the entire time they there - he’d dissected every part of the bike, down to the missing chain. So Jimin steers the conversation far, far away from anything sexual; starting with the question that had been nagging at him.

“Yoongi,” he said with caution. “What...happened between you and Namjoon?”

Yoongi looks over to the kid and there it was again, the pure innocence sparkling in his eyes. It wasn’t a surprise to him that the questioned was asked; he’d expected it. He mulled over the words that pooled around his tongue - how was he going to put it into perspective? The entire incident was a bag of chaos and misunderstandings, ending with pain and loss for everyone. Yoongi has been keeping a tight lock on his past and opening up about it felt like unscrewing Pandora’s box.

He gulps. He sighs. He said, “It was a painful thing that happened.”

“It was roughly in the year of 1938, just a few months lack of 1940. Back then, being in love with a guy guaranteed punishment - a place specially dedicated to you in the asylum. And it’s not like you sit in a cell and rot your brains out. No, it was worse than that. You’d be going through treatments - or at least that’s what they called it. These so-called treatments had electric chair written all over it. But despite all the warnings and threats, I still fell in love...with a guy. His name was Jung Hoseok and we connected so well, stepping into a forbidden relationship with blind eyes.”

Jimin bites his lips. Jung Hoseok, the man they were about to rescue the next morning used to be Yoongi’s lover. Jealousy gnawed at him.

“For almost two years, we managed to sneak around, meeting up at his apartment to spend some time alone. It was one of the happiest years of my life because I was in love with him and he was in love with me. Like the two of us against the whole world. Then, Namjoon got suspicious. I guess after being able to get away with it for so long now, I got sloppy. He’d catch me coming home late and sneaking off at irregular hours with no probable reasons. I wasn’t about to tell him about our relationship - afraid he’d see us as shrewd and disgusting.

So when he saw that he was getting nowhere near a truthful answer from me, he decided to spy on me. And no, not how normal people do it. Whenever I left the house, he would unlock my brain, planting himself in it. So wherever I go, he could trail my thoughts in his vision to find out where I’ve been sneaking off to. Namjoon finds out about Hoseok and his link to me but he didn’t stop there.”

Yoongi scoffs with his fist tightened.

“Up to this day, he claims that everything he did stemmed from his undying love and concern for me. I called out on his bullshit even then. Namjoon had latched himself of Hoseok, following him around now and soon found that he was a con artist. The man lived off by selling rich people with forged historical paintings. And because of the reputation he holds, Namjoon thought that the relationship we had was solely based on Hoseok wanting to con me. For how smart he proclaims himself to be, he really was an idiot. Thinking that he was trying to protect me, he...he had used his telepathy to control Hoseok mind. Namjoon made him tell me the truth and to...break it off with me.”

Yoongi’s knuckles were white from his tight clutch on the rusty railing. His teeth were gritting from the pain rattling in his bones. It felt stale and weathered out - but that didn’t mean it hurts less.

“I didn’t know it back then that it was Namjoon talking, so to hear those words from Hoseok’s lips....fuck it felt like a stab in my heart,” he choked out. “I never even got the chance to say something before he packed up and left, vanishing into thin air. I tried to look for him, spent hours on end asking each person in town about him but it’s like he never existed. No one knew who he was, saying they’ve never heard the name before.

After searching for weeks I...got crazy, overwhelmed with love. I started to think that if he was willing to drop his entire identity to get away from me then, the love we had was never true. The depression got to me, piled onto the guilt of being gay. I hated myself, for being weak, for being naive and for being the guy that fucked another man. I was so close to throwing myself into an asylum.

The rest of them noticed that my behaviours got erratic and I supposed Namjoon felt responsible for driving down to the gutter. He ended up confessing everything to me.”

His head was hung low, shaking it as he sobs. The tears that spilled from his eyes dampened his cheeks. To relieve his past again felt like his heart was wrenched out and thrown in a pit of fire. Fuck, did it hurt so bad.

“Hearing it all from a person I considered my friend, god, it made me livid. He had begged on his knees, crying to me that he did it all in good conscience,” Yoongi scoffed. “Those excuses meant nothing to me after having lost the one person I loved. Namjoon invaded my privacy and ruined my relationship with Hoseok. If that isn’t called betrayal that I don’t know what is. A fucker like him should never be forgiven.”

Yoongi was seething with rage and sorrow as he broke down. If he closed his eyes, it felt like he was back in the house with Namjoon. Both of them were in a mess of tears, screaming down each other’s throat. Each one was trying to voice out their emotions - of anger, of remorse and of bitterness. It was all too much for him that he left, never looking back.

After keeping it in for so long, Yoongi found it in his heart to let it all out. The tears never stopped, not even when he was in Jimin’s embrace, not when he was pulled into bed and not when Jimin hugged him to sleep.

There he was, Min Yoongi, being comforted by Park Jimin for the pain he held on after losing Jung Hoseok.

My BTS Au Masterlist

[playeroneplayertwo]

Editorial: ‘Til the Money Runs Out

(Unless otherwise clarified, all prices are MSRP, or manufacture standard retail price)

The subjectivity evident in any critical analysis of a book, movie, or board game is–I would hope–obvious. Value, however, feels far less subjective. 

How much someone is willing to pay for something varies greatly depending on the person, not only based on what we’re talking about, but also how much money that person has. With that out of the way, let’s talk about a sticky wicket in the hobby of board gaming: value.

It wasn’t long ago that this idea felt less nebulous, with value often coming down to the argument of collectable games vs non-collectable games. Things are a little different now. Collectable card games (CCGs), expandable games/living card games (LCGs), legacy games, campaign games, mystery games, and consumable games have gone a long way in complicating a once-simple(ish?) idea. These days, everyone has an idea of what’s a good value, and what’s not. Lots of people have axes to grind against games deemed “of poor value.” I’ll try not to fall into such a black and white box.

When I originally thought about writing about value, my main angle was simple: Magic (1993) vs an LCG, like Android: Netrunner (2012) or Lord of the Rings: The Card Game (2011). As a former fan of Magic transformed into an avid LCG fan, I bristled at the less than rosy coverage most LCGs received from the gaming community, in regards to value specifically. I knew firsthand how expensive a collectable game like Magic could cost. With a 15-card Magic booster pack costing $3.99, and a booster box of 36 booster packs coming in usually around $100, it gets expensive quickly. Individual cards can be bought online for anywhere from 10¢ to $50+, this is a deep hole that is hungry and ready to eat you alive.

For anyone who has not played a collectable game, it is set apart from LCGs by randomness. A collectable game is purchased in packs of randomized cards, so oftentimes you will purchase a pack and get nothing you want or need. This happens far more than you would believe. LCGs/expandable card games are unique because they are available in fixed, non-randomized sets, whether that be small expansion packs of larger deluxe expansions. The rub is that these will cost more. For example, the typical small expansion pack for an LCG is typically $14.99, but you know exactly what you receive in that expansion, and additionally you’ll receive multiple copies of each card–something that never happens in collectable packs.

This distinction alone is worth a deeper dive, but we’ll only gloss over it briefly. Head to head LCGs or expandable games (like the now OP Android: Netrunner, Legend of the Five Rings (2017), Doomtown: Reloaded (2014), or Game of Thrones: The Card Game (2015)) offer a large pool of cards with a fixed distribution. You would conceivably be able to buy the core set for one of these ($40), plus perhaps four small expansions ($60 total), which puts you in at $100. For $100, you could buy a booster box of Magic cards and maybe build two strong decks, if you’re looking to have a satisfying experience. The randomness will throw a wrench in here, because you could theoretically get enough good cards for more than two solid decks; you could also get mostly junk.

Reviewers often balk at the LCG model, because while it appears to solve the money-pit aspect of CCGs, they are still not cheap. That being said, for people who are merely interested in the game–but not deck construction, LCG core sets offer plenty of introductory level gaming to help you discern whether you actually like a game or not. If you do, and you know what you like about the game (eg factions or mechanics), the set expansion packs allow you to build up where you want. Why buy an expansion pack for a faction you don’t like or don’t play? You don’t have to!

The cooperative LCGs are a different story. They, too, have the $15 expansion packs, but in addition to cards you’ll add to your pool for deck construction, you’ll also get quests to play against, essentially a typical “expansion” that brings in additional content beyond merely deck construction.

Whether it be cooperative or head-to-head, LCGs are expensive, but unlike CCGs, LCGs have simultaneously removed both the excitement of the blind buy as well as the frustration of the bad buy. Granted, in the small box expansions, you’ll still be getting cards you don’t need or don’t want, but at the very least, you will be getting at least a few cards you know you want (if not, uh... why did you buy it? Do your homework!).

As a player of both Lord of the Rings: The Card Game and Arkham Horror: The Card Game (2016), I would argue that the best value for me in LCGs probably lies in the cooperative line. By giving players both quests to pursue as well as player cards tailored to those specific quests, these small packs never feel incomplete. And, I would argue, getting a core box of Arkham Horror or Lord of the Rings is a great value as an introduction to satisfying, well-supported systems.

Beyond card games, the water actually gets far muddier when you expand what you’re talking about. Legacy games and escape room games (which is a term I’ll use to encompass both consumable games and “mystery” games that, once solved, can’t really be replayed satisfactorily) have managed to blur the lines in terms of value considerably. Let’s start with legacy games.

A legacy game is a game that evolves the more you play it, and with the exception of Charterstone (2017), most legacy games cannot be played beyond the completion of their main narrative arch. For example, Pandemic Legacy (season one or two) leads the players through a series of games that add up to a long-form narrative. As the games unfold, the rules of Pandemic will change, as will the cards, board, and other components, making the last game wholly unique from the first. However, once completed, you can’t play it again. You may as well recycle your game. Charterstone, Stonemaier Games’ take on the legacy game, at least leaves you with what amounts to a custom-designed worker placement game that is replayable. Legacy games can be played anywhere from 10-20 times before you complete the story. That being said, because they have so many components, they are usually quite expensive: Pandemic Legacy (2015/2017), $70; Charterstone (2017), $70; Betrayal Legacy (2018), $75; Rise of Queensdale (2018), $80; and the peril-plagued SeaFall (2016), $80.

After looking at these numbers, take a minute and compare them to the LCG/CCG numbers above. Yes, they are cheaper, but they also have a limited lifespan. Is a legacy game worth $70-$80 if you can only play it 12 times? That’s about $7 per play, cheaper than (or at least comparable to) a movie ticket for a good night spent gaming. Seems like a decent deal, right?

What about consumable or “mystery” games? In this case, I’m looking at you Exit (2016), Unlock (2017), and T.I.M.E. Stories (2015). Other games will fall into this category too (further escape room games or a host of Sherlock Holmes or similar mystery-type games, like Consulting Detective (1981) or Chronicles of Crime (2018)), but these three games are hyper present in the hobby today. Both Exit and Unlock retail for $15, but they will each offer a one-time experience only. Unlock games are mystery-based, so once you’ve worked your way through, they essentially can’t be replayed because the answers will all be known. As for Exit, this is probably one of the more controversial because it is literally consumable. At the end of a game of Exit, that $15 game you bought is now destroyed. Cards are cut, the book is written on or torn up, maybe event the box is destroyed. Unlike Unlock, you can’t even trade it to someone who has not yet played it. Each set of Unlock and Exit is unique, offering lots of new games, but it’s a flat $15 each time you play. Still cheaper than a night at the movies.

Which brings us to T.I.M.E. Stories (2015). T.I.M.E Stories is essentially a board game version of Unlock: card-based and entrenched in a branching narrative with puzzles. You’ll play one set of T.I.M.E. Stories maybe three times, at most, before it’s completed and cannot be replayed. The core box ($50) sets you up with the components and one mystery. Additional mysteries are available in modular expansions for $25 each. At its heart, T.I.M.E. Stories is most analogous to a BluRay player, with each expansion being a new BluRay you pop in to watch. In the long run, it’s also the most expensive of the bunch.

So what’s the point of all this? Board games are expensive, but you know that. Your average big box board game (ie not a traditionally labeled “filler game”) runs anywhere from $30-$60 MSRP. 

Ah, but who pays MSRP these days? you’ve been muttering this whole time.

Who’s paying MSRP? Well, if you’re looking to support your brick and mortar local game stores, you should be. Yes, this is a tough case to make, because money is money. It’s hard to rationalize spending $90 on Scythe (2016) to support your local store when you can buy it online for $52. I can try to make my best possible case for spending that extra $40, but like I said, it’s a tough sell. $40 is a whole other game. I’d like to say I only shop local, but it’s simply not true. This hobby is expensive, and while I buy local when I can, more often than not I buy online from brick and mortar places like Cool Stuff Inc or Miniature Market. It’s worth making a case for buying local, though. Do you like having a local store? If you want to keep having a local store, shop there. Support them. Give them your money when you can. It’s hard out there for brick and mortar stores. And please, don’t expect a brick and mortar store to sell at online prices. I don’t want to have to explain profit margins; in almost all cases it’s just not feasible.

In the long run, what does this all mean? I could throw my opinions at you endlessly about how I think T.I.M.E. Stories is, for Player Two and I, not worth it, or about how Exit is worth it, or legacy games don’t work for us, but that’s not what I’m here for ultimately. I guess I’d like people to ease up on LCGs, and maybe think twice about those hot hot big box legacy games, or remember to pass on their Unlock games to friends or families to get extra miles out of those small boxes. The breadth of the hobby is wide, and it is getting wider every year. Ultimately, you need to decide what you’re willing to invest, and in this case I don’t just mean you money, but also your time. Which of these games will you get your time value out of? If you buy a legacy game with shoddy mechanics, it will fail you on value across the board, because you won’t even finish it. LCGs or CCGs will offer you–theoretically–endless play, but if you don’t like the game enough, or it’s not nuanced enough to sustain those theoretical infinite plays, what’s the point?

The best advice I can give new gamers is to start small. Do your homework on small box games first. There’s a reason that in our first episode recommended gateway game was Oh My Goods! (2015). It’s a quality game that teaches new players a lot about engine building euros, it’s got decent replayability, it’s got two expansions, and it’s only $15. If you are new to the hobby, figure out what you like. Don’t run out and buy Lords of Hellas (2018), Batman: Gotham City Chronicles (2019), or Gloomhaven (2017) on a lark, because you’ll be unloading tons of money on something you may loath.

There’s nothing wrong with starting small. Trust me, in the long run, it will save you a lot of time and money.