#i want to build my irl city and play as me

[a-god-in-ruins-rises]

(one of) my dream games is a super ultrarealistic city-building game and it's (ideally, though unrealistically) set in america or at least in major american cities.

and i mean extremely ultrarealistic. cities: skylines is like dumb as fuck arcade shit compared to what i want. it may as well be townscaper.

i want it to be detailed enough that it's used by actually irl city planners to simulate their building projects. i wanna be taking soil samples and hydrogeological surveys and flood risk assessments. and i want the regulations and zoning to be really complex and detailed.

and again, i want this to be set around real-life locations. there should be an option for "present day" mode where you start working with the city as it exists today or "historical" mode for some previous period in the city's history or "free play" more where it's just the blank slate terrain and no development.

and of course you gotta manage natural resources and tax revenue and population growth and population happiness and all that.

if you wanna make it ideal-ideal then there should also be a complex political/government angle too.

and ideal-ideal-ideal there should also be an army/military dimension as well. and actually you should be able to play as city, county, state, or federal governments. all simultaneously (although obviously these different governments should also be able to govern themselves automatically so you're not having to micromanage).

[loveshotzz]

There’s a place for me

Eddie Munson x Fem!reader

Chapter 1/?

Summary: On the run for wrongful murder charges, Eddie finds himself stopping in a sleepy ocean side town far enough from Hawkins where he can lay low for awhile. Running from the people that want him dead, his only hope is that his past doesn’t catch up to him. Especially when he meets the pretty eye’d waitress up the street.

Word count: 5.7k

Warnings: slow burn, angst (Eddie hates himself for running) eventual smut, strangers to lovers. My blog is 18 plus.

A/N: this concept was sent as a request by my irl friend @elthreetimes and as soon as I read it, there was no way it could just be a one shot. It needed to be a series. I feel so lucky that you trust me to bring this story to life, and I hope you enjoy this. Also I couldn’t have done this without my hellfire crew @myobmaya @boomhauer @subparwritersuperbreblogger @sweetsweetjellybean for bouncing ideas and characterizations with me. I seriously couldn’t have written this with out you guys. This is the most ambitious story I’ve ever tried, so here goes nothing. Also bonus points for anyone who guess’s who which character Ron is based off of.

*comments, likes, and reblogs would mean so much if you enjoy my work 💘

For days it felt like all Eddie did was drive, the passage of state signs was his only measurement of time. The hours blending together like the lines on the highway, tangerine skies bleeding vermillion the colors remind him of Chrissy eyes after they exploded inside her head. The beauty of it all being taken away as the image of her crumpled body replays over and over in his mind. With no destination he was driving on auto pilot, only deciding where he was going the third night in.

Hair dripping from the storm outside, his fingers feel bruised from switching out his plates for the third time. Sitting in the back of his van tucked away on the side of a dirt road somewhere in West Virginia, it was the first time in his life he was thankful his dad had taught him a thing or two about evading the law. Stripping off his wet jacket he knew he needed to find somewhere to go. He couldn’t keep driving aimlessly, he didn’t have the money for that. The only cash he had was whatever he’d gotten from his deals earlier in the week, thankful he didn’t spend it on the re up that was suppose to happen the night before everything changed.

He’d never seen the ocean, an elusive place he could only visit in his dreams. Stopped on the boarder between West Virginia and Pennsylvania he wasn’t that far from the east coast. Using his lighter to illuminate the road map he’d found stashed in a messy wad in his glove box he guessed it was maybe a 10 hour drive from the coast. Throwing the idea of sleep out the window with wet clothes making it impossible for him to get comfortable he decided to do what he’s done this whole time, drive.

Watching the early morning sun slowly seep into through the storm clouds the grey sky fades to a more comforting cerulean. Eddie drove with the kind of determination that he wish he’d used to pass high school. Maybe he wouldn’t even be in this mess if he’d just graduated when he was suppose to. Convincing himself he would have been long gone playing guitar in any city that wasn’t Hawkins, he lets himself wallow in self pity till his tires bring him to the ocean.

——

Finding his way into a nameless town that wasn’t even listed on his map, it made Hawkins look like New York City. A small strip set on top a broken battered road - he swerves to miss the never ending onslaught of pot holes. The few shops they had were attached to a single grocery store, the sides of the buildings eroding away from the misted wind. Snorting to himself - of course this is where he ends up, a beach side ghost town. Eddie catches the Help Wanted sign hanging in the window of the diner that lay nestled at the end. Sticking out from the rest, the way it’s lit almost makes it look like it glowing against it’s drab surroundings. It was also the only place he’d seen with any sign of human life.

The lights of The Sleepy Hill motel greet him like the four seasons, when his tired van pulls into the mostly empty lot. The flashing vacancy sign is a promise of a bed, his bones worn down and sore the weight of everything finally kicking in. When his dirty white Reebok’s hit the ground his arms reach for the sky in a kitten stretch of his whole body, eyes closing he relishes in the pops he feels in his spine.

Inhaling a deep breath the salt in the air stings his nose, the mist off the shore making his bangs stick to his forehead. Pulling a runway strand of hair from his cheek he finally takes everything in. On one side of him there was nothing but an endless expanse of tumultuous waves raging against the shore line. The storm clouds he had out run were making their way back through, the lingering bitterness of winter still hanging thick in the March air. It wasn’t like the kind of warmness he’d seen on the postcards, or the in the stories that Rick told, this wasn’t Venice Beach. The sight of a light house in the distance brings a slight feeling of comfort when he watches the strobes of light break through the purple hues of the darkness starting to set in over the horizon. Eyes lingering he lets himself sit in it for awhile watching the waves crash into the broken brick holding it up from falling into whatever laid in the water beneath it. When he turns his attention back to the town that took him less then a minute to drive through, the red “EAT HERE” sign that spun on top of the diner mocks his stomach when he realizes it had been almost a whole day with out any real food.

Slamming his car door shut, he takes quick strides to the back making a mental note to drive to the next town over at some point tomorrow to switch out his plates again, it was too risky to try to do it with any car in a town like this. Eyes darting nervously he opens his back doors with shudder that rings out over the sound of the waves. Furrowing his brows in concentration he starts digging though the blankets in the back searching for the outfit he’d found balled up a few nights ago. Forgotten about after a sleep over at Gareth’s, the memory of a time where his life wasn’t like this hurts in a way that he can’t explain. Maybe he wasn’t as miserable as he thought he was — all the little things he took for granted now at the forefront of his mind.

He hadn’t let himself think about Wayne. Maybe it was the adrenaline that kept his mind from going there, or that thing he’d heard about when your own mind blacks things out to protect you, but he hadn’t thought about what that must’ve been like for him to come home to that.

A life less mangled girl he didn’t know and a nephew that no one was going to find. Eddie just ran without a single thought as to what that would mean for him. Scowling to himself he blames the Munson blood that runs through his veins. Images of his Uncle slumped over with tired shoulders, shuffling into the trailer in the early morning hours when the sun is just peaking through the trees. Boots heavy from another double at work, walking right into the nightmare that Eddie left him with.

Eye’s burning he holds back his tears grabbing the balled up shirt and jeans giving them a sniff. They didn’t smell clean but they smelt better then what he was wearing now and that was just going to have to do. Fingers crossed the motel clerk would let him rent a room with out an ID, he was desperate for a shower. Shoving the garments into his backpack he takes another deep breath ignoring the sting this time, closing his eyes he fights away all the emotions that are ready to spill out. Clearing his throat he cracks his neck before slamming the metal doors shut.

Half way across the pavement Eddie stops in his tracks when he see’s the guy behind the counter. Not much older then him there was something oddly familiar about him, when he glances up catching Eddie in his line of sight. Shaggy brown hair parted down the middle and big teeth protruding from below his upper lip, his beady eyes squint as he tries to figure out what Eddie was doing. The sound of a distant boat horn is what makes his feet finally move again, the boy behind the counter standing up as Eddie closes the distance.

There’s a small chime when the glass door swings open, the warmth of the lobby heats him in a way he hadn’t realized he missed until its hits his skin. There’s an awkwardness that hangs thick in the air when the door closes behind him. Eddie hadn’t talked to another living soul in days besides mumbling the amount of cash and on what pump at gas stations. The man behind the desk who’s name tag said ‘Ron’ was staring at him like he was trying to pin point something familiar about the metal head, and it was making Eddie’s palms sweat. The anxiety of being caught tightening in his chest. Scratching the back of his neck he clears his throat.

“Hi — hey, man I’m uhh- I’m looking to get a room?” He tries to hide how startled he is at his own voice having not heard it in hours.

Ron’s silence doesn’t break much to his dismay as he takes in Eddie’s appearance. Dark eyes trail over his disheveled form before flicking back towards his van in the parking lot. It wasn’t just his palms that were sweating now.

“What’s your deal? You some kinda rockstar or something?” Ron finally breaks his silence, stunned it takes Eddie a minute to comprehend what exactly he’s being asked. When he finally wraps his head around the question he has to actively stop the snort that threatens to come out.

Looking down at his wrinkled hellfire shirt, the cotton is stained with a mixture of dirt and grime from the nights in his van. The whites of his Reebok’s barely visible under the dried up mud from last nights storm. Having caught a glimpse of his reflection in the glass of the door on his way in, he knew his wild mane looked like a bird had laid nest in it.

“Excuse me, what?”

Ron sucks his teeth shrugging.

“You just look like that Van Halen guy, but there’s no way you’d be here if you were actually him I’d reckon.” He says matter of factly before sitting back down in his desk. “And he wouldn’t look like he just rolled around in a pigs play pin. Or maybe he would? I don’t know the life style of a celebrity.” He adds with a wave of his hand.

Stunned and completely unsure of how to respond to the man in front of him, the conversation was not going a direction Eddie had even seen coming. Opening and closing his mouth a few times, he finally finds his voice again.

“Yeah, not Eddie Van Halen. My name is Eddie though, Eddie umm Henderson.” He winces internally when Dustin’s last name leaves his mouth.

“Eddie Henderson? That’s not very rock and roll.” Ron tuts before looking up at Eddie from his computer.

Feeling his frustration start to reach it’s tipping point, his fists clench at his sides before they release. Running a hand over his face he exhales sharply through his nose mustering up enough self control to answer politely.

“Sorry to disappoint.” Eddie pointedly looks at his name tag before adding with a curt smile. “Ron.”

Arching a brow, the man at the front desk brings his attention back to the computer screen with a hum. The awkwardness from before becomes almost suffocating in the small room. The growing silence between them lasting long enough that Eddie starts to panic.

“Look man, I’m just trying to get a room for a few nights then I’ll be out of your hair okay? I’m not some rockstar who’s gonna trash the place. I’m a nobody.”

Eyes never leaving the screen the sound of the mouse clicking is the only noise filling the space.

“Got an I.D. Eddie Henderson?” Ron’s tone is flat when finally looks up at eddie through the hood of his lashes, his own irritation clear on his blemished face.

The question he knew was coming still stiffens his body when it leaves his mouth, but the thought of another night sprawled out on the damp blankets on the metal floor of his van is enough for the burning sensation of tears to sting his tired eyes again. Shuffling on his feet, he readjusts his backpack.

“I’ve got cash, I can pay for at least two days up front.” Stepping closer to the desk his fingers drum against the counter top nervously, doe eyes pleading to show him a shred of mercy.

“No, I.D. No ro—“

Digging the 200 of the 250 he had left from his pocket, he slaps it on the desk in a crumpled lump. His survival instincts kicking in with a new level of stubbornness he didn’t know he had. He wasn’t leaving until he had keys to a bed and a shower.

“Please, man. I’m begging you.” The tears that had been threatening fall finally breach his strong hold, a single droplet landing onto his bottom lashes. He wipes it away quickly with the back of his hand, sniffing he closes his eyes collecting himself again. “I’ll keep to myself, you won’t even know I’m here.”

Ron’s eyes soften at the desperation is Eddie’s voice, despite policy there was something sincere about the mysterious stranger standing in front of him.

“200 will get you three nights.” Reaching over the counter he grabs the crumbled up bills before standing up, turning to the wall of keys behind him.

Relief floods his body as he watches Ron’s fingers skim over the glistening metal dangling from the dark blue wall. Blinking back tears the tense muscles in his shoulders release some of the stress they’d been carrying for the last 700 miles.

“Room 10, it’s at the very end. No parties rockstar.” Handing over the single key, it hung from a round burgundy keychain, a faded gold 10 stamped onto the plastic. Eddie can’t help but actually laugh this time, his mood lifted for a fleeting moment.

“Seriously, thank you. You won’t regret this I promise.” Snatching the key before he had a chance to change his mind, he clasps both hands together in front of his face bowing slightly in appreciation.

“There’s free coffee in here every morning. If you bring your key to the diner up the road you get a ten percent discount. We don’t have laundry but there’s a laundromat next to the grocery store, it’s open weird hours you’ll have to check the sign.” Ron prattles on, his voice becoming more professional now that Eddie was a paying guest.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.” Walking backwards Eddie kicks the door open, the chill in the air sending a shiver down his spine.

“Nice to meet you Eddie Henderson.”

—

The walls of the motel room match the ones in the front office, the sapphire paint chipping at the edges of the ivory trim. The single bed in the middle was covered in a crimson duvet, two fluffed pillows propped against the black head board tempting him enough that he almost throws the idea of a shower and food out the window. Toeing off his shoes, the socks that should be a crisp white are the color of ash and it reminds him just how dirty he really is. Dropping his bag on the floor he starts peeling off his clothes making his way to wash off the last 72 hours.

A satisfied groan falls from between his chapped lips when the heat of the water hits his skin. Tilting his head back he lets it run through his thick tangled waves, pooling at his feet the water is tinged brown. Turning he faces the stream with closed eyes letting it wash over his face as he tries to find peace in his thoughts. The fear seeing Chrissy suspended in the air every time he closed his eyes was what prevented him from the sleep his strained body needed.

After spending longer then he should wrapped up in the warmth of the shower, he can’t ignore the growling in his stomach, remembering the discount at the diner he forces himself out.

The cheap blow dryer makes his hair frizz with more volume then he was used to, holding it down with both hands on either side of his head he sighs exasperated when he lets it go and it bounces back with more force.

Whatever, he didn’t know anyone here and he wasn’t going to be around long.

Changing into his cleaner clothes, he pats down his jeans feeling something in his back pocket. Reaching behind him his fingers come in contact with the thin plastic foiling of a crumpled half full pack of cigarettes he’d left in a drunk mess one night.

“Fuck. Yes.” He mutters to himself feeling a little more like a person rather then just a passenger in his own body for the first time in the last three days.

Grabbing his jacket off the bed nimble fingers search for his lighter once the leather is wrapped around his shoulders. Smirking when he finds it, he heads for the door grabbing his key off the off the dresser. Turning around before he leaves he takes one good look at his new home for the next few days. It wasn’t much but it was better then hiding off on the side roads begging to get caught.

——

The rocks crunch under his feet as he walks up the wounded asphalt towards the diner, the mist in the air taming the poof in his hair as he struggles to get the cigarette lit. The hint of tobacco on his tongue teasing him as the gust off the shore snuffs out the flame every single time.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” dangling in his lips he stops for a second to switch positions so his back was facing the direction of the wind. “You’ve got to be shitting me.” Grumbling he snatches it out of his mouth in a huff before shoving it back in his pocket. Keeping his hands dug in into his jacket his face is set in a hard glare as he hits the parking lot of the diner. The inside gleams brightly and it’s the stark contrast to the dark moody-ness of his thoughts and the outside.

There’s families gathered in the windows laughing in the warmth of the light and he does his best to ignore the pang in his chest. Shoving down the realization of just how alone he really is now, he wasn’t ready to mentally unpack that yet.

Opening the single glass door of the entrance, the sound of the oldies station plays under the low hum of everyone’s chatter. Red vinyl covering the seats, a row of booths line the outside, the white walls barely visible decorated, covering almost every inch in various collectibles. The long bar attached to the kitchen extends down the length of the restaurant lined with stools.

Unlike the booths, the bar was filled with truckers and waderers. Hunched over their food alone in their thoughts. Taking a seat where he belonged the chain of his wallet clinks loudly against the metal of the stool.

The menu was already laid out on the formica counter top, just a page long the corners of the lamination are creased after obvious years of use. His eyes strain to read the red words that pop out against the white of the paper, the sleepless nights slowly catching up to his body. He tries pulling it further from his face to get a better look completely unaware of the pair of eyes watching him.

“Need some help with the menu?” A melodious voice breaks his concentration. Looking for the owner he comes face to face with you.

Almost as if someone knocked the wind out of him the softness of your features stuns him enough that he can’t find his voice. The dress you wear as a uniform wraps tightly around your curves and he fights his eyes from wandering. Hand on the counter in front of him you lean into his space, the smell of maple syrup hits his nose — sickly sweet he wants nothing more then to close his eyes and bask in it. Your warm gaze lands on his face and it feels like he’s looking up at the bright sun on a summer day. You didn’t look like you belonged here.

Realizing he hadn’t answered you, he clears his throat trying to shake his nerves. He was never good at talking to girls, especially not girls that looked like you and definitely not under these circumstances.

“You’re new around here.” You grin eyeing the slightly disheveled boy in front of you.

“Do you have burgers?” Blurting out his question he closes his eyes embarrassed when he realizes he’s ignored your observation too caught up to think straight. “Sorry.”

Laughing sweetly you take the menu from his hands finger tips brushing against his, the connection making his cheeks blossom pink.

“Sure do, how do you want it?” Pulling out your pocket sized note book from your apron, his eyes catch the red of your nail polish and for some reason it makes his cheeks deepen to match.

“Medium is —uh, is fine.” Scratching the back of his neck he watches the way your pen swoops gracefully against the paper.

“Fries okay?” Looking up at him from under your lashes his breath hitches loud enough for you to hear, the reaction making you bite your lip in a smile.

“Yeah, fries are, fries are great.” Exhaling loudly he gives you a tight lipped smile wishing he could bury his head in the sand.

“Anything to drink?” Ripping the page you turn around slipping it through the small window of the kitchen behind you. The line cook grabs it with a curt nod before you bring the full force of your stare back to him.

“Water is fine.” The sentence is short but he gets it out with out a hitch at least. Rubbing his hands nervously on his thighs he catches the mischievous glint dance around your eyes.

A small knowing smirk plays on your lips before walking away to the drink station at the other end of the long bar.

“Real fucking smooth.” Eddie grumbles to himself catching the attention of the trucker seated next to him.

“If that makes you feel any better son, I think she thought it was cute.” The gruffness of his voice reminds him of his Uncle, the few moments with you had made him almost forget about why he was here in the first place. Guilt slowly starting to eat away at him as he tries to re focus his thoughts, the familiar sting coming back to his eyes.

Before Eddie has a chance to respond your sliding the glass in front of him, eyes never leaving his as you pull out a straw from your front pocket. This time he’s strong enough to hold your gaze even if the red on his cheeks spreads to his neck.

“It’ll be like 15 minutes, Freddy’s pretty quick.” Nodding back towards the kitchen, Eddie tries to listen to you but he’s too focused on the sheen of your lip gloss. A sharp elbow to his side snaps him out of his trance, his new friend trying to help him out.

“Oh— okay, thanks.” Dropping his eyes down he brings all of his attention to unwrapping his straw, silently scolding himself for being even less smooth then the first interaction. The only reason he knows you’ve walked away is the loss of sweetness that settles in the air in your presence.

Shoving the straw in his drink, the ice clinks loudly against the glass before taking a big gulp. When the water washes over his tongue in a wave of rejuvenation, he closes his eyes humming in satisfaction sucking more then half the glass down before pushing it away with a wipe of his mouth. He can feel what the needed hydration does for him in his finger tips, his brain function starting to sharpen.

Chocolate eyes finding you again, he watches the way you move around the restaurant with ease. Everything you were doing seemed second nature, bending down to meet the kids at eye level he watched the families stare up at you with the same adoration on their faces. It wasn’t just him you effected like that, it was every one.

Cleaning off one of the booths, he watches you bend over the table — selfishly letting his eyes wander your body in the way he’d fought off before. Expertly stacking the dirty plates in your arms, you shove the cash tip they’d left in your apron. Turning on your heel you catch his stare, stopping for a brief moment before your lips tug up in a way that makes him avert his gaze — but even he knew it was too late. He’d been caught.

Closing his eyes when you walk by he inhales deeply, chasing the comfort your scent brings. You smelt like Sunday mornings with his mom, the only childhood memories he was fond of. He watched as you disappeared through the double doors of the kitchen, loud voices greeting you once you were hidden in the back. It was obvious you’d been here for awhile. The urge to try and piece together your story is a welcoming distraction from his own.

You aren’t back there long before you push back through with a toothy grin, shaking your head in amusement. An irrational hint of jealousy settles deep in his gut at whoever was making you laugh like that. The high pitch ding of the kitchen bell brings his attention back to the small window, a burger and fries so warm he could see the steam coming off the bun sit waiting for you to collect. Brain going empty he can feel himself start to salivate, his hunger taking front and center in his mind now.

Too focused on his food he has better self control of his eyes when you go to grab it. Sliding the plate in front of him Eddie mumbles a thank you before snatching the burger, ignoring the way it heats under his finger tips.

Taking a giant bite he immediately opens his mouth at the shock of the burn, his initial reaction to spit it out is stopped when he looks up to see you watching him with crossed arms as you lean against the back counter.

“I would have told you to give it a minute, but I thought that was obvious.” Teasing him, Eddie fans his open mouth searching for reprieve only swallowing it when the pain subsides. Taste buds inflamed and seared he takes another gulp of water basking in the way it soothes his mouth.

“Sorry, I haven’t really eaten all day.” Grabbing a fry he dunks it into the small ceramic cup filled with ketchup before tossing it into his mouth. Curious eyes land on yours making him wonder what’s keeping your attention as he eats with out manners.

“So, what are you running from?” Choking on his food at your question his eyes go wide, maybe the news had made it’s way over here.

“W-what do you mean?” Swallowing loudly his appetite suddenly disappears.

“I mean, I’ve never seen you before. People either move here to run from something or they’re just passing through.” You shrug as if your question was nonchalant. “So are you a runner or a wanderer?”

“What are you?” Eddie counters back arching a brow before taking another sip of water.

The smirk you give him is almost devilish when you push yourself off the counter invading his space again. The smell he can’t get enough of swirling around him in a dizzying effect.

“I’m a runner.” There’s something hidden behind your eyes that he can’t decipher when you give him your answer unashamed. “I told you mine, it’s your turn now.”

Of course you weren’t from here, how could you be?

“Runner.” He says simply already nervous he shared too much. Averting his eyes he plops another fry in his mouth before he remembers that this 15 dollar meal was gonna put a significant hole in his remaining funds.

Looking back up from his food he sees you’re already half way down the bar walking he hasn’t even asked you about the Now Hiring sign dangling from the window.

“Hey! — I mean wait.” Eddie’s outburst catches you and half the diners attention and despite his embarrassment he doesn’t miss the way your lips curve up when you make your way back to him.

“Yes?” Raising your eyebrows in question you plant both hands on the counter top in front of him leaning forward a stance that keeps his Eddie swimming.

“I saw your help wanted sign in the window.” Clearing his throat for more confidence “How would a runner apply for said job?”

“You haven’t even told me your name, and you don’t even know what we’re hiring for.” All valid points leave your mouth and he nods with a scratch of his head.

“It’s Eddie, Eddie Henderson.” He said it once and now he just has to roll with it, he’ll apologize to Dustin if he ever sees him again. “I’m not picky, I’ll do anything. Just in desperate need for some cash.”

“Well Eddie Henderson, I guess that means you’re planning on staying here long enough to get work huh?” Tongue poking the side of your cheek he can tell there’s ideas bouncing around in your head.

“Yeah, for a little bit.” Eddie didn’t want to tell you that his time here was numbered in the single digits or that he needed the work so he wouldn’t become completely homeless in the next few days while he ran from the law.

Blowing out a loud breath, you drum your hands on the counter before turning around towards the white board behind you with various names and schedules scribbled on it. He wondered which was you. Grabbing an application from the stack that was pinned on the board you turn back around around pulling a pen from your pocket. Clicking it open you set it down for him to fill out.

Eddie wastes no time in scribbling out his fake information, chest swelling with excitement. He didn’t think it would be this easy and despite your stare making him nervous he could feel his own smile pull at his lips just for a moment.

“I’m just gonna need an ID to show my boss.”

The sentence leaves your mouth and Eddie wants to fucking scream, his grip on the pen becoming so hard he was close to snapping it in half. It was an issue at the motel why wouldn’t be an issue here? It’s not like he didn’t have one, it just had all of his real information on it. Information that had the potential to get him caught.

“I- I don’t have one.” It’s quiet when it leaves his mouth voice shaking and defeated. Meeting your eyes again he notices how they soften as if you could read his mind.

“You moved to a new town without any ID?” You question is gentle when it comes out watching the way his shoulders slump. The first smile you’d seen grace his handsome features slowly fading away.

“I’m afraid I can’t give this to him with out some kind of proof as to who you are.” It’s lame when it comes out of your mouth and you wish it could be different when you watch his big doe eyes glass over.

“It’s fine, I’ll figure something out. I appreciate the help none the less.” Eddie gives slight nod pushing the application away, his brain already starting to reel with no back up plan lined up. He feels fucking stupid.

Unsure how to comfort the cute mysterious stranger you shove your pen back in your pocket giving him your most apologetic look. The air shifting into something that felt like you should give him privacy— you walk away as he digs for his wallet.

Throwing a twenty on the table, he’s too embarrassed to even ask for the discount. He takes one last big bite of his burger before goes to stand up, the sudden urge to sleep becoming over powering with the hope a better idea would come to him tomorrow.

“Hey, actually.” Your honeyed voice drips through his very obvious despair.

Stopping him before he had a chance to leave, Eddie’s chestnut eyes meet yours in question.

Biting at your bottom lip, he can tell your nervous to ask him whatever was bouncing around in your head.

“Do you know anything about cars?” The thought of your late grandmothers car sitting motionless in your drive way comes to mind and how desperate you were for a pair of working wheels.

“I mean I’m no mechanic, but I can do the basics.” He offers back with a shrug.

“Good enough for me, I live by the beach not far from the motel down the road, it’s a shitty yellow house you can’t miss it. I’ve got a car you can come look at tomorrow, if you think you can fix it I’ll hire you myself.” Eddie doesn’t know why you’re being so nice to him but he’s not going to turn you down the offer. Even if he can’t fix it, he sure as shit was going to figure out how.

“Alright, sure yeah, I’ll come by.” Trying to contain his excitement the smile you’d already missed comes creeping back to his face.

“Perfect, I’ll see you around 10? I’ve gotta work at 4 so that should be plenty of time for you to come take a look yeah?” Not wanting to tease that six hours is plenty of time to do a normal check up on a car he just nods instead.

“I’ll be there at 10.” With a nod of his head and the first genuine smile on his face in days, he pushes back out into the developing storm.

——

Head swirling with the events of the day the cheap motel bed moans under his weight as he stares up at the water marks on the ceiling tile. The feathers of the pillows underneath him bring back the heaviness of his eyelids as all the muscles in his body finally relax. The fear of sleep slowly slipping to the back of his mind when the softness of your smile replays on a loop behind closed eyes.

——-

Taglist: @newlips @bimbobaggins69 @munsonology @triplethreat77 @edsforehead @manda-panda-monium @emotionaldreamer @eddiesprincess86 @micheledawn1975 @lil-graveling @b-irock @munsonmunster

If I missed anyone please let me know!

[trumpets0ng]

"Post 10 Facts About You"

I was tagged by @shesthespinstersimmer. Thanks for thinking of me! I never know what to put in these things so here goes nothing:

I am a trained artist, with a degree in Fine Arts. Though I can draw, paint, and sculpt, I don't do much of any now-a-days.

2. I used to build houses for my brother in Sim City. He was the one to put me on to The Sims, knowing that I had more of an interest in interiors than architecture.

3. I used to act a million years ago. My passion for theater has never subsided. Sometimes, I channel the skills I learned to create "character studies" into my stories. It helps to flesh out motives and personalities.

4. I recently became an Auntie and I'm thrilled!

5. IRL, I work in the interior design industry.

6. I used to run track in middle school. I was only drafted onto the team because my mom was friends with the coach. It slipped out that my distant cousin was an Olympic gold medalist. Turns out that talent was not hereditary 😂

7. I absolutely love dogs!

8. I was briefly a nanny for 3 separate families.

9. Pre-pandemic I was a prolific reader. It was something to do on my train commute. For some reason, I just can't get back into it.

10. I am the antithesis of a foodie. Food does not excite me... like, at all. I don't begrudge those who are, but do get annoyed when they think they can convert me. 🤷🏾‍♀️

I tag anyone who wants to play along! Feel free to join in!

[quannaix]

What is your experience with Animal Crossing?

Okay it has been literally over three months since you sent this so I apologise I just have a lot to say and wanted to enjoy going on about Animal Crossing.

My first was Animal Crossing Wild World, which I saved up for and bought, even pre-owned it was expensive for primary school me. I did not know much about the game and it was years before I realised that the copy hadn't been wiped so I'd walked into someone else's town. I'm guessing someone called George, since my town was named Egroeg. But by that point I'd been playing for so long I didn't want to wipe my progress. Also by then I had realised that he had upgraded Nook's to the highest version, which would have been hard for me to replicate because it involved playing multiplayer and I only had one other friend with the game. I really loved ACWW, and I spent lots of time playing it even though I definitely didn't understand a lot of elements of the game. My friend and I spend loads of time imagining things we'd love to add to the game, like if you could get a job (paying that loan off in shells is hard!) and I thought it would be cute if you could drive around in a little car that had a boot for extra inventory space (backpacks fill up a lot when things don't stack). I became best friends with Kiki in this game and when she moved I was so sad that I planted a tree where her house had been thinking that would stop another house taking her place (I was wrong, but it's the thought that counts).

I did get AC Let's Go to the City for the Wii, but never racked up many hours on that because being console based I'd have to find time when the family wasn't using the TV. I definitely prefer it as a handheld game.

I got given Animal Crossing New Leaf for my birthday when it released and I maintain this is best AC game. I still love it so much. I love that they introduced the mechanics of town design, most notably that Roost was a stand alone cafe and you got to choose where to place it!!!!! I think this might be around the time I first started following you (saxyplaya hehe) I assume because I found you from looking for QR codes for designs. I am still obsessed with so many of the QR code dresses people came up with. I think ACNL had the best balance of effort to output. Like it had these town design features but still took ages to do things. You had to grow trees from scratch and grow them again if you placed em wrong. This made everything feel more satisfying though, imo. You really put in the hours, and days and weeks, so the results would make me feel proud. I love that there are so many fruit tree varieties, I love visiting the island, I love that you CAN work at the Roost and that Brewster would give you coffee rewards. The updates they made with Happy Home Designer and the campsite, including adding the 'god mode' furniture design thing did make things a lot easier. But I like actually that to see anything you have to actually put it on/put it in the room, in your cupboards everything is just the generic category icon. I still have not caught all the bugs and fish in this game. I THINK I have all the fossils, but I think it makes it more fun for longer if it's not so easy to catch everything. I love the shopping street, and slowly unlocking the buildings. I love that little bench at the end of the street looking out. I think the music in this game is so lovely too, and one of my most favourite things is walking around on a rainy day in my town. I also actually loved that it was always the opposite weather hemisphere-wise, often I'd log in in irl winter so I could feel warm and vice-versa.

I also just love the graphics and look and feel of the game. The characters are still sassy and have a lot of personality. I always think fondly of my neighbour O'Hare, because his birthday is two days after mine. Now I could wax rhapsodic about ACNL al day but I should move on!

I freely admit I did obsessively play AC Pocket Camp for like a year or two when it came out (maybe longer??) to fill the void while I waited to see if there would be a Switch game. My partner also got me the original GameCube Animal Crossing for Christmas, which I played a little, but we don't usually have the GameCube set up and see above my preference of handheld play for AC. Still, a very cute present that I love having.

The second they Switch was announced, I said that I would be holding off on buying one until I saw if they put out a new AC game with a console to match. And I am SO glad I did because I was able to get the console and the game when they came out and I think the console is sooooo pretty. ACNH is really fun as well, I do like the addition of terraforming, being able to place furniture outside, and that they went really ham on the graphics. While I think I still have more of a soft spot for the older graphic style, I love things like the raindrops on the windows and the furniture blowing as the fan goes over it, etc etc those little tiny additions really melt my heart. I do feel like they smoothed out the characters too much, they don't have as much personality as they used to. And as much as so many things are easier (changing clothes, furniture, moving trees and plants, catching all fish/bugs and fossils) I think I preferred it when it was a bit more challenging. I wish the Roost was separate still </3. I loved the addition of Island Designer, I find that so fun, and I love the glowing moss furniture, and being able to design villager's houses (given that sometimes they start to look really dogshit after I've been gifting them my garbage furniture sorry guys). I don't send letters as much in this game as I used to, idk why exactly it just never seemed as fun or important in ACNH. I like the addition of cooking, more just because it tickles me personally. I'm back and forth on the crafting mechanism. I think overall I like it, and in many ways it's a return to the challenging aspects I just went on about loving in the previous game in terms of it being an involved process (esp if you want to change the colours), but I think that tools breaking SO fast annoys me and that even gold tools break annoys me heaps. Overall I do still enjoy ACNH, and I'm actually glad that it introduced the game to a whole lot of new people because it's widened the audience of people I can ramble about AC to. I do wish I had gone with the other hemisphere weather, I went back and forth on that and I discovered I actually prefer it NOT aligning with my real life weather so it can serve as an escape.

Thank you for asking me this question, in case you can't tell I love talking about Animal Crossing it is definitely one of my favourite game series of all time <3

[elliethesuperfruitlover]

Fu the Family Friend

A/N: happy new year everyone! I started this september/october (i forgor) and found the motivation to finish it up. my lord i cant wait for the archivist model to drop.....

I want to preface this by saying I'm writing this fictional piece of work based off of a fictional character/liver. This does not reflect any sort of reality, nor does this reflect what Fulgur is like irl, etc. etc.

(I'm writing Fuu-chan as Archivist and not Legatus purely for How I Imagine Him purposes. And yes i know this outfit is legatus but just imagine archivist being his large sexy self in a pink shirt and leather pants with his hair pulled back mmk.)

CW: beeg tall man, nerdy talk, oral sex (fem! receiving)

Tag List: @super-unpredictable98, @jozstankovich, @rubberbutt69

Ding Dong

"Welcome Mr. Ovid! It's so good to see you!" you heard from the couch, turning your attention to the front door. Your parents had informed you that there would be a guest coming in to stay in the Air BNB they own for a few weeks, but you had limited reaction to it. The most they'll be is a mild inconvenience for when I need a place to decompress.

"It's good to have a change of scenery. And plus, the more I can learn about different cities, the better I'll be at my job." he spoke smoothly, with a little chuckle at the end of his sentence.

My lord, what a voice he has. You whisper to yourself, standing up to get a closer look.

Peeking from behind the wall, you observe the new person. He's.....oh no he's handsome. He has a tall build, with a dangerously soft looking tummy and long silver hair that's pulled into a ponytail at the back of his head. He has a kind looking face, with stubble matching his hair color. There seems to be a red and black collar around his neck (Oh yeah, they did mention he's a cyborg.) and hands to match.

"Oh, hey there. Didn't notice you at first." he looked up at you (holy fuck, he has pretty eyes too), and went to shake your hand.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Ovid." you stuttered, his hand warmer than you thought it would be.

"Oh, please call me Fulgur, Mr. Ovid makes me feel old." one of his hands went behind his head to awkwardly scratch his neck, and he looks away.

You nod in agreement and stand to the side as he continues talking to your parents. The way he spoke about his job ("It helps me stay in touch with what I lost, y'know. That way I can look back at everything in the future and not feel this pit of guilt from not knowing or remembering."), how he talked about his dog back home ("Oh, he's a very big boy. But very gentle. Trained and everything." as he shows them pictures of a very large, and very happy looking Caucasian shepherd.), honestly just listening to him talk was enough for you.

"Oh honey, would you show Mr. Ovid his room, we've gotta go handle dinner." your parents shout from the front door, closing it right as you respond.

"Uhh, you can follow me. Your room isn't up 10 flights of stairs or across an ominous bog. It's right to the left." you instruct, pointing in the general upstairs direction.

"So....the right or the left."

"Right to the......okay gotcha. It's to the left." you mutter before mentally facepalming as he walks into the room and sets his bags down. Now that's certainly a way to make a fuckin' impression. Being horrifically unclear. "I'll leave you to get settled, just let me know if you need anything."

You walk back to the couch, sitting in front of the television. Whatever was playing took your focus for all of half a second before drifting to....him. It's been a hot minute since someone actually caught your attention. Even if he is a little...older. It's just by a few years. And for all you know, he could be happily married....or not even-

CRASH

"Uh, you good in there?' you ask, standing in the doorframe to his room.

"Yeah, I was just trying to get the window open and some stuff fell." he chuckled awkwardly and backed away from the wall. Surrounding him were a few books from the shelf above the windowsill, and the window sat half open. Easy fix, you say to yourself before walking over and taking a firm hold on the handle for the latch.

"It's ok. I've accidentally been a little too rough with it before, you just gotta lift it up and pull at the same time. It's all about being gentle." the window slots into place and locks.

Fulgur giggles from behind you, shoulders lightly shaking at the accidental innuendo. Ah, so that's his sense of humor. "I'll have you know that joke was purely incidental. It just slips out sometimes."

"Oh does it?" he replies, breaking out into fuller laughter, wheezing in a kettle like fashion. That deeply entertains you, as how could a man built like that let out such a charming noise as a laugh.

"You like how I laugh?" he stutters out, finally catching his breath. Shit, I said that out loud.

"It's cute. Almost the opposite of what I expected from someone so built." you say, bulking your shoulders up to imitate his form.

"How am I built?" an unreadable glint shines in his eye.

"Like a beefcake. A big British beefcake."

He hums and gets the residual laughs out before putting the books back on the shelf. You sit on the ottoman in the corner of the room and listen to him talk while he gets his travel bags unpacked. He really is an interesting person. From his friends back home (apparently demons, dragons, and aliens do actually exist) to how he talks about his job. Apparently keeping the world's history and books preserved is a much more hard job than you imagined.

"It's difficult, but a very rewarding job. Makes me feel like I'm doing good to help things exist for longer. Let everyone after me observe things just as they were." a small smile appears on his face and you feel a sense of relaxation wash over you. Hmm...he's nice.

"We're back! And brought pizza!" your parents yell from the front door.

Both of your stomachs rumble at the sound of that, and you both head downstairs. The setup is simple. Three pizzas, cheese, pepperoni, and-

"Oh, Hawaiian! I actually enjoy pineapple on pizza." he mutters, gleefully getting a paper plate and starting on his meal.

Dinner flows smoothly up to a point, up until Fulgur takes his jacket off. He revealed his arms, and he put a fist on his chin, listening to your parents talk about their upcoming trip out of town. All you could focus on was his stubble. The line of his neck and his hands... You start wondering what they'd feel like. Holding them in your own. Wrapped around your waist. Maybe even groping you from behind. Lost in your own thoughts, you find that he's been looking at you.

Ah shit. You cough and shake your head of the images of him over you, standing up.

"Let me get your trash." you offer, looking down instead of at him. If you had, you would've noticed a faint dusting of pink across his cheeks, going to his neck and ears when you bend over to get another trash bag. After washing your hands and sitting back down, you two sit in silence for a few more moments, and he almost says something, but is cut off by your parents announcing their departure.

"See you later. You sure you're not coming with us back to the house? Your room and bed are there, y'know?" they humor you, waiting for you at the door.

"I'm good. Just gonna make sure our guest is totally settled in." you reply nonchalantly, almost surprising yourself. Fu-chan turns towards you, a confused look on his face, but you don't notice...again.

You finally settle in front of the TV, Fu-chan joining you on the couch. Silence surrounds the two of you, and a good chunk of time passes before it cuts to a commercial. You stretch from your spot, neglecting your nightly "turn on the porch light" duties, as your parents handled that when they left. Your mind drifts to Fu-chan again. And everything you'd want this archivist to do to you. Your thighs cross and you zone out, shaking your leg. You only come to when Fulgur taps your shoulder, asking you a question.

"You good there? You look like you're distracted. And your leg's shaking...and they're crossed. And you've got your hand between your thighs," he crosses his arms, a smirk settling on his face. He sighs before continuing. "are you thinkin' of me? Because between how you look now and the stretching and you wanting to stay with me to "make sure I get settled in". I can't help but let my mind wander to what you want to get up to."

"And what if I am? Am I not allowed to think about your hands? Or what you look like tied up? How your stubble feels on my neck?" you look directly in his eyes and something in them flickers.

"Oh? So you have been thinking about me." he moves to get on top of you, slotting a leg between your thighs. You shiver at the contact.

"Just kiss me." you internally cheer and scream that it actually worked, and that you're about to have a lot of explaining to do as to why you stayed for the night, as well as the morning at the guest house.

With that, he surges forward and catches your lips with his own. One of his hands moves to the back of your neck, and you melt into the contact. He moans into the kiss and deepens it, letting you onto his lap. The hand that isn't on your neck is holding you still, fingers spread across your ribs. You break away from him and bite the spot where his neck and shoulder meet.

Fu-chan groans at that and does the same with your neck, hair tickling your skin. You grind against his thigh, the sensation of his cynets pressing against you seep into your brain. He sucks a bruise onto your neck and rubs his thumb over it, putting pressure on the spot. You suck in a breath of air, pushing him off you.

"Let's take this upstairs. I don't want my parents complaining about stains on the couch." and with that, you both get up, stumbling a little. The two of you practically run to his room, shedding clothes as soon as he closes the door.

You push him onto the bed and straddle him, dragging your hands along his toned chest and abs. God, his tits. You grope them, gasping at how soft they actually are, despite their appearance. You also pinch one of his nipples, delighting in the way he gasps at the feeling. You continue until he's red in the face, almost embarrassed at how close he was just from one half of his (enormous) chest being fondled.

"Mmm. Let me touch you. Don't wanna finish like this." he whines, gently flipping the two of you.

He takes a wide berth at your body from his position, hands squeezing and caressing along the way. What his fingers skip, his lips follow with kisses, trailing from between your breasts to right where you've been wanting him since he moaned over that damn pineapple pizza. With each descending kiss, your breath quickened, almost to a gasp. It didn't help that he was keeping direct eye contact with you, staring half lidded and full of lust. He gently flips the two of you,

He lightly nips at your thighs, rubbing his stubbly cheeks against the sensitive skin. His arms make their way around your thighs, fingers gently digging into the plush flesh.

"You're so beautiful like this. Gasping. Waiting for me to touch you. Makes me want to take my time just to see you fully come apart." he hums at the end, and settles in between your thighs. He takes a deep breath and groans afterwards, hips canting into the sheets.

Fulgur places a wet, open mouthed kiss to your clothed mound, followed by a much more pointed one, dead on your clit. Your hips involuntarily thrusted up, and his face remained in the same spot, letting you grind against him. He untangled his right arm from your thigh, and began making an outline of your lips with his fingers, teasing around where you wanted them. He gently pushed a knuckle in through your panties and you groaned, desperate for him to take them off. He continued for a few more moments before acquiescing, taking tender care not to yank them off your feet.

"Hmmm, what do we have here?" he whispers, breath tickling your mound. Fulgur gently spread you open with his fingers, smiling in an almost pervish manner when you clenched at nothing. He stuck his tongue out, giving your cunt a wide lick, ending at your clit. He repeated the action before sucking on it, tongue caressing the underside. Your head flops to the side, overcome with the feeling of finally, finally, someone getting it right.

Fulgur seemed to get more enthusiastic about your pleasure, his hips and damn that ass thrusting against the sheets. He was drunk off the feeling of you surrounding him. His eyes were closed and his glasses were foggy and askew. He moaned into you when you thrusted upwards, and when his mouth wasn't busy pleasuring you, it was spitting out praises that left you speechless. "You taste so fucking good." " I bet it feels good, huh." "Let me know how I'm making you feel." "I can't wait til I'm buried in you." Each one more encouraging than the last.

You were almost delirious by the time you noticed he added a second finger, tongue paying special attention to your clit. His fingers were slow at first, scissoring you open, but crooked and sped up to match your hips. You could barely think straight, barely registering the sounds coming from your own mouth. There was a moment where he hit a spot behind your pelvis, while simultaneously sucking on your clit and you yanked his hair, back arched.

"Right there, Fu-chan! Please!" you begged, eyes half open. He doubled down on his efforts, finding the right rhythm between your hips grinding against him and his fingers. You began letting out tiny "ah, ah, ah" noises, and you felt almost ill at the onset of this feeling.

"Don't worry baby, I got you. Just let go." he whispered, before closing his lips around your clit completely, his silver hair spread across your belly. Your body seizes up and you feel an overwhelming burst of pleasure curl in your stomach before it crests, leaving you limp. Fu-chan continues, albeit a bit slower, both his hands and his hips coming to a complete stop once you'd caught your breath.

"You alright there?" you ask, gently carding your fingers through his hair.

"Peachy." he says, moving his head so you can see his flushed face. His glasses remained off balance and his hair stuck to his forehead. The parts of his neck you can see are pink and dotted with the bite you gave him earlier.

After a few minutes of relaxing, he slowly gets up, legs shaky, and grabs the washcloth from the guest bathroom. He cleans your thighs, then your stomach, and you nod off for a moment when he walks back. You both get under the covers, the slight chill from the open window making goosebumps on your skin.

"One more question." he whispers, hands wrapped around your middle, thumb rubbing shapes into your skin.

"Yeah?"

"How do you like your eggs?"

Oh, he better stay here for the next 6 months.

Masterlist

[the-ellia-west]

Fantasy Names For Dummies

@fanntasy131 (You said you wanted it)

So... Y'all liked My Map Making For Dummies Post. Here I go again! I will Showcase Methods that work for me on each category,

1. Character 1st and Last names

2. Places (Rivers, canyons, mountains, cities, ect.)

3. Continents

4. Languages

Let's begin! So you want to know how to do Character names? Well you're in luck, because I have a few methods for you!

Method one: Keyboard smash like this - cehbfwgfveukshvg Then you will want to refine it a little to make it more pronounceable, examples include - cehfveukshvg or Ehbfwgveuk Next, you'll want to determine whether you want a long name or short names. For Long names use your keyboard smash and make it fully pronounceable (You can scramble the letters around if needed) - Ebveukhe (Eb-vey-youk-hey) For short names you'll just want to segment the keyboard smash and then refine those if you can't pronounce those - [Cehf Veuk shvg] turns into [Seph or Ceph] [Veuk or Veyuk] [Shyg or Shiveg]

Method two: Use a Fantasy name generator and smoosh names together until it sounds good. Examples Include - Bane, Soren, Redcap, Driscoll You'll want to take syllables and smoosh - [Barenso or Sorane] and [Redcoll or Drissca]

Method three: Modify existing names For example - Victor, Savannah, Sky Next you'll need to take your favorite syllables, sounds, or letters from each name - Vi, ah, Sk Play around with adding Vowels - Viahsk = Viask or Viohsik Continue modifying until you like the sound of it - Viask = Viasaki (A name of one of my characters)

For last names use one of these methods, or smoosh two words together like Silverthorne

Places: In nature

If you need places in nature, you can do Method one from above, or you can use this method: Take the describing words for the location and then what it is at the end - Big, deep, wide, water, scary, Ravine Then take letters from those words and shuffle them around - I, dep, ie, at, s, Ravine Now Moosh - Idepieats Ravine Edit it until you like - Idepiat Ravine

Places: Cities, buildings, ect.

If you need cities or buildings you can use any of the above methods, or this.

Specifically, Taverns in media and Irl usually have kind of weird names. For example: The Leaky Cauldron or Three broomsticks in Harry Potter If you want something like that, you just take an adjective - Wild, bright, golden Then take a noun, usually a thing or animal - Dragon, brush, dove Combine - Wild Dragon, Bright brush, Golden Dove (Golden Dove is an inn in my book)

You can use these combos for lots of restaurants, inns, stables, ect.

Languages: NO TIPS USE VULGERLANG! BY GOD IS IT HELPFUL - Use youtube to find how it works

[kittykittyanon]

if i knew you irl (please just delete this if it makes you uncomfy 😣)

We would go to cat cafes

I like cats, you like cats. It makes sense

But also the cat cafe is a bookstore bc I go to this bookstore cafe with this cute lil cat named Cedric but that's all the way in NC (not where I live)

So we would pick out a book to read together, something silly that would make us laugh

And we would have lots of sweet treats and hot chocolates while we read the book out loud in silly voices

We would also be snuggling with the cute cats, two teenage girls giggling in the corner if a cafe over a cheesy romance book

imagining we both live in a city, we would go on walks all the time tbh

Holding hands/p (if ur cool with that) to make sure we don't get lost and giggling about stuff that's happened to us recently

also looking around at the pretty landscapes all the trees and buildings and just being in awe of the world around us

Bonus points if we are looking at christmas decorations

BONUS BONUS points if we play this game; we take turns spotting people and giving then life stories. Like we just come up with what they are doing, how they are feeling.

Also we have some sort if hot chocolate or lemonade or some sort of drink that matches rhe vibes of our walks

I imagine these walks are sort of weekly. We don't walk far just a little bit to catch up with each other

UAJAVSJAVKAVSBDJOSVSOSVSIOSVDODVIDBDODVDIDVEIE OMIGOSHHHH OMIGOSH OMIGOSH!!! (≧▽≦) (≧▽≦) (≧▽≦) (≧▽≦) AMORIA AMI AMIMI!! HAVE I EVER TOLD YOU HOW MUCH I LOVE YOU /P OMIGOSH AMORIA OMIGOSH. 💥💥💥💥💥💥 ((side note: i love it when you ambush me with silly asks like this,, i like the reminder you think of me :3 and i think of you too!!!))

more hcs under the cut!! <33

first of all, Yes. to everything on this list.

i walk like an absolute DRUNKARD,, and i mean when i get comfortable i never walk straight and i'm always walking in a sort of zigzag pattern,,, i feel like you'd laugh at how silly i walk and then i'd start laughing cause you're laughing and in the end we'd both be cackling and stumbling down the pavement together (≧▽≦)

OMIGOSH I LOVE HANDHOLDING!!! or just any sort of physical affection (as long as you're comfortable with it) !!! when i get comfy with someone,, it's very common for me to sort of. drape myself over them (*ﾉ∀`*)

if you're comfy with it and you want to,, i feel like we'd scoot our chairs as close as possible and be having our shoulders touching with a cat chilling across our laps,, us holding a book and trying to laugh as quietly as possible in the back of the cafe.

we'd share earphones/earbuds!! 100% we'd do the little thingy where i put one in my ear and you put one in yours and we'd have a mix of both our favorite playlists on low volume while we walk,, kinda like background music!! low enough for us to hear eachother but high enough to be audible.

i'm actually a rollerblader!! ...not a very good one, but a rollerblader nonetheless!! i'd definitely take you skating in our free time when we have energy for it, and i'd throw protective gear at you 'cause i'm scared of us falling LMAO

... yeah, no — we'd end up falling anyway LSNOABSOSVSISKECSHSJSHHSHSH

but we'd be laughing the whole time anyway so it's okay (*ﾉ∀`*)

during sleepovers, i'd bring a big stash of snacks and candy carefully picked out to your taste and mine, we'd watch coraline or any other movies!!

and then late at night, when it's time to sleep,, i'd give you my plushies so we could go to bed holding soft objects :3

if you stayed up i'd randomly wake up at like 3:45 am to spout the randomest shit only to fall right back asleep a few minutes later.

"did... *hiccup, giggle* did you know that whale sharks are filter feeders... an'... an' they eat plankton..." "... 😰"

i have curly hair so i sleep in bonnets and spend a lot of time in the mirror scrunching in gel and fixing my hair, i feel like you'd sit on the bed on your phone or something as i do it and we'd talk about whatever, breaking into snickers and giggles several times cause we're sprinkling in jokes to make eachother laugh.

assuming we don't go to the same school cause of the weekly walks to catch up with eachother,, i'd probably surprise you in the morning by knocking on your door with a big grin and your favorite snack, ready to walk you to school if i had a day off when you didn't. (if you're chill with it of course!!)

overall, you'd be a friend i cherish dearly. (and you are!!) (๑˘︶˘๑)

i'm a very big gift-giver but a very big broke dummy so you'd get attempted intricate paper flowers and handwritten letters, handfuls of stickers and little trinkets that made me think of you!!

i'd draw a chibi version of you and me doing silly activities together and put them with the rest of my gifts to you,, i'd also maybe draw a leo or two with a chad face and hide it somewhere in one of them HEHEHEE

[thesorcerersapprentice]

04.03.2024

Hello everyone! Apologies for the delay. My offline life has gotten quite hectic lately, which has made it hard to keep on schedule. Hopefully, things will smooth over soon!

Worldbuilding & Solar/Cyberpunk Considerations: As I mentioned in the last couple of updates, I've been working on a post on the geography, flora & fauna of The Sorcerer's Apprentice universe, which I meant to publish last week (and the week before that, lol). I've completed the three sections that correspond to the (as of yet unnamed) second empire's territory (second because the book focuses on neo-colonialism, the successor of old-world colonialism), all of which are based on the natural world of Colombia at 2600 meters above sea level and beyond. Because the plot of The Sorcerer's Apprentice mainly transpires in a city within this region, while writing the aforementioned sections, I was also trying to figure out what a city that incorporates the novel's themes (the link between colonialism, environmental catastrophe, and capitalism) would look like within this context. Given that one of the main themes is capitalism, my first impulse was to make the primary plot location in the novel a cyberpunk-inspired city. After all, what screams capitalism gone mad more than cyberpunk? To this end, I read quite a few articles on the subject (Rethinking the End of Modernity: Empire, Hyper-Capitalism, and Cyberpunk Dystopias by Jeffrey Paris, Elements of a Poetics of Cybperunk by Brian McHale, Neoliberalism and Cyberpunk Science Fiction: Living on the Edge of Burnout by Caroline Alphin, Recycled Dystopias: Cyberpunk and the End of History by Elana Gomel, The Cyberpunk Dystopia as a Reflection on Late Capitalism by Marius Florea, and more). The problem with this idea was that when I looked around me at Bogotá, the city I live in, I just couldn't see it. Bogotá is a green city. There is green everywhere you look. Furthermore, traditional-looking cyberpunk flattens any culturally specific elements it incorporates, the same way big-chain supermarkets worldwide completely obliterate the slightest whiff of uniqueness from their premises. No matter where you are, they all look the same. As I mentioned in a previous update, one of my aims with The Sorcerer's Apprentice is to celebrate the culture of my region of the world. Cyberpunk, at least as it has been traditionally conceived, works against that objective. Again, this fits with what capitalism does irl, but I really really really don't want to write yet another NYC-inspired urban hellscape. In fact, I can't think of anything worse than having my main character admire a cyberpunk city... My search for a more suitable alternative led me to the antithesis of cyberpunk, its eco-friendly adversary, solarpunk. For information on this genre, I relied mainly on @alpaca-clouds post on the History of Solarpunk and @solarpunks's informative response, which includes several very helpful links (check out both posts here!). At first glance, solarpunk seemed to fit The Sorcerer's Apprentice much better than cyberpunk had; it allowed me to envision a city that elevated rather than obscured (or flattened) present-day Colombian culture. Basically, with solarpunk I could keep the city green, as cities in this region of the world tend to be; I could retain the push for sustainable innovations that play such a vital role in our mainstream policy; and I could keep the regional architecture, as well as site-specific building materials like guadua, a hardy local species of bamboo. Most importantly, with solarapunk I could genuinely describe the city with respect and admiration. The only remaining issue was to figure out how to incorporate the novel's themes into this genre. After all, although Solarpunk is utopic, The Sorcerer's Apprentice is not. How do I illuminate and criticize the link between capitalism, colonialism and environmental decay within a fantastical city that walks and talks like a utopia?

Cont. My solution is to create a hybrid proposal somewhere between cyberpunk and solarpunk; a city that presents like solarpunk, but that has achieved this green, sustainable self-expression without renouncing its colonial and capitalist exploitation of vulnerable peoples and environments elsewhere. Essentially, this would make the city the large-scale equivalent of one of those high-end clothing brands that have "recycled" symbols on their tags, but that have their product made in deplorable overseas sweatshops. The message of the novel would, thus, be amplified to include the idea that there can be no environmental justice without social justice. Does it work? We'll see. That's what I've got so far.

Researched the Link between Colonialism, Environmental Catastrophe and Capitalism: To educate myself on the main themes of the novel and how these can be better incorporated into the setting, I picked up Chaos in the Heavens: The Forgotten History of Climate Change by Jean-Baptiste Fressoz & Fabien Locher, and translated by Gregory Elliott. And let me tell you, I was not expecting to learn what I learned!!! This book is honestly fire. I had no idea climate science was so deeply rooted in colonialism!! Honestly, more than any other book I've read so far, Chaos in the Heavens articulates the link between the three main themes I've been trying to work with so, so clearly. Now I understand why people say we're lazy because we get too much sun. Or why all the native trees got cut down and replaced with pines. Eye-Opening!!! 100000% recommend.

REMINDERS:

Answer pending asks, and publish that promised worldbuilding post on the geography, flora & fauna of The Sorcerer’s Apprentice universe, you know the drill lol

Research Transhumanism.

Research Designs for Sustainable Cities and New Green Technologies.

TAG LIST: (ask to be + or - ) @the-finch-address @fearofahumanplanet @winterninja-fr  @avrablake @outpost51 @d3mon-ology @hippiewrites @threeking @lexiklecksi @achilleanmafia @blind-the-winds

© 2024 The Sorcerer’s Apprentice. All rights reserved.

[girl-monkey-odalys]

Amazing background art by the incredibly talented @cutekoala1001. I commissioned her to draw The Salty Simiano, which is the restaurant from my Sing fanfic. I could not be happier with how it turned out!!! The colors, the lighting, the decorations, the angles, the way she fit so many features into one shot, just...all-around mind-blowing 🤯 

As you all know by now, I am kind of obsessed with the anthro primate characters from the Sing movies. For my Sing universe I made up a Latin American-style cantina that welcomes all animals obviously but panders to primates; it is known as a monkey hangout in Red Shore City. It also features sugar skull-type art, except the skulls are of anthro animals 😂 In the picture, the larger skulls on the wall, window and floor are chimpanzee skulls. In the bar area, the two skulls behind the chairs are a deer and a crocodile, and the one by the menu is a dog. The one in the corner by the enclosed seating area is a koala. The area on the floor covered by the skull is a dance floor. 

What I love about this piece is that, like all good art, it tells so many stories. I didn’t really flesh the restaurant out very much in my fic, and seeing it here really helps inspire me to create ideas for it:

• That little enclosed seating area by the tree is very cozy, so I can see it being a popular romantic place for  couples. But it’s also large enough to seat more than two, so I can also see it as a meeting place for friends. 

• The restaurant has live music from time to time. Most of the bands are local Latino musicians, but since this is Red Shore City, you can also find visiting musician stars performing here from time to time. 

• The band plays in front of the Salty Simiano logo. This allows for many photo ops, especially with the dance floor nearby. 

• If the band knows that there is a romantic couple sitting somewhere, they will walk over to the couple and serenade them. They will also play music loudly in front of shy-looking patrons seated at the tables, insisting that they go out and dance. 

• There’s one band that’s really sassy and heckles the crowd all night, in Spanish and English. The singer will butt into a dance and “steal” the guy’s partner from him and tell the girl that she could do better in terms of mates. He says this into his microphone so that everyone can hear him. 

• The art in the restaurant is featured in numerous cultural publications in Red Shore City (magazines, etc.). The restaurant has also published a pamphlet that explains the history and meaning of the sugar skulls. Art students also come here for studies. 

• The tree was already on the land before the building was constructed, and the tree was special to the restaurant owners (being monkeys). They didn’t want to cut the tree down, so they just constructed the building around the tree and made a skylight so that natural light could filter into the room. As the tree gets bigger, they will remove the tiles that surround it. They hired a professional landscaper to prune the tree in such a way that it will eventually grow through the roof, and they will renovate the building to accommodate the tree. I know this would never happen irl, but I’m kind of a hippy and would love to see this. 

Thanks so much for doing such an amazing job on this, @cutekoala1001! 

[evilblunt27]

WHICH ART SHOULD I FINISH FIRST

descriptions underneath each one poll at bottom

1. Idk how to explain this comic lolll dw bout it... I started it when I was 19... so like parts of it is corny but I still like it. I think I would do it with a mix of pastels and pens and markers. I think I would line everything with pens. All the photos overlayed will be cut into shapes to fit in. The heart diagram is supposed to be in the shape of a playing card. The ring in the bottom right corner over the photo of a deer is a hard drive disc n reflective like a mirror. I wanted it to be like collage-y. I blurred out the parts I thought was too corny and I want to change though.

2. Into a painting

3. Prob do this with markers and pens and maybe color pencil. I want it to be like cartoon soldiers and ghouls and war and tanks in the middle and other stuff idk. And he needs a cigarette in da mouf.

4. Dream I had where I was in a house in Florida keys dancing naked on the balcony to the look of love by dusty springfield. I got struck by lightning in a sexual way. There was a spiral staircase and the lightning was bright purple. Rly hard to see but idk I had a vision I might watercolor this but would rather do it w markers because I suck at water color. I also might glue some small perfect little seashells I collected on it for tropical emphasis...

5. Dream I had where I woke up in some Siberian village and this couple I knew and don’t like that much irl took me to their house and they had a dog that had shitted everywhere all over the house except the bedroom and bathroom and then the boyfriend took me to the city limits and on the way there we saw a huge tiger and then he gave me a cigarette and I wandered off into endless unknown snow.

6. Suppose to be building in the background and floating glowing symbol and bike lady will look like that I think I made her a little thicker than the original but whatever. And I want to add more things going on for more detail and depth but idk what yet. Maybe some tumbleweeds and chupacabra in the background. I hate painting on canvas it’s awful and I can never get smooth lines so I’ve been avoiding this one

7. I got insecure that it was going over the page crease onto the other page so I stopped drawing this one but idk if I should do it on a new paper where it won’t go over the edge or it looks kinda cool like this

8. Dream I had where a lesbian ghoul with big cartoon eyes and no other face tattooed a weird alien on my arm and big shitty hello kitty iPhone on my back

9. Dream I had where my cousin and I were going swimming at some alpine resort I was wearing a bikini with shameocks and straightening my hair for some reason

10. Ghoul and dog thingy

11. Painting I started in high school. I want to make a window in the center peering out into the desert at dusk and the shirt cheetah print maybe change the color of the sheets to something more neutral and maybe some magazines and glow from the tv and other little objects around or maybe keep it simple. And also remove the underwear so it's just bush...

[imwritesometimes]

nine people i want to get to know better!!

I was tagged by the always lovely @apocalypticdemon💜💜

Last Song: I Don't Want to Know - Fleetwood Mac. It came on in the car when I was coming home from the grocery store earlier 😊

Favorite Color: purple 💜

Currently Watching: like right now right now... 48 Hours lmao. In general? Nothing really. I tried to get into Under The Bridge recently and I just was not feeling it at all so I kinda gave up on it. I might pick it back up now that it's all out but idk. It was just. Meh. I always am watching some kind of Docuseries though. Mostly abt religion/cults/history or crime. Love me a GOOD docuseries, man.

Last Movie: The Bikeriders. Goddddd I wanted this to be good so bad but it was just. Not. Good. At all. It was so boring. Which I think is the worst thing a movie can be. How do yo make a movie abt motorcycle clubs boring? IDK but they did it. No one had any chemistry at all. Not romantic. Not friendship chemistry. It was so flat and just. Bad.

Currently Reading: Nothing but I did recently pick up a copy of What The River Knows cause I had seen it mentioned on here in regards to The Mummy. So I snagged it recently and I'm hoping at some point I'll have some time to read it.

Sweet, Spicy, or Savory? It honestly really depends man lol but I guess sweet.

Relationship: single

Current Obsession: I'm really into city building type games and I've been playing a bunch of those lately since I got my bitchin' new laptop. And of course baking. I'm still really trying to think abt if I wanna actually try to do like a home business or not but I'm having fun trying out all the decorating and different ideas I have. My next 'project' is probably going to be ~Spumoni~ cupcakes 😊

Last Googled: info about covid tests (my mom is currently in quarantine to be super safe so that's.... going on)

Currently Working On: the nice guys WIP is still in progress and I feel good about the outline/notes now but it's still..... in very rough stages right now. I have. A lot. going on irl rn so it's kinda like when I have the time and motivation I work on it.

zero pressure tags: @novemberhush @tenderbittersweet @readbythestarlight @softasawhisper @capskat26 @maderilien @jody-seavers

[misscammiedawn]

ok but how am I supposed to flirt with/compliment/be sweet at only one of y'all in your inbox? you have to know that isn't going to happen.

Camden: I'm looking forward to the next time we can just sit and talk and be vulnerable with each other. Also, we should get back to sharing media with each other - especially the media that we both find so formative <3

Cammie: Oh, sweetling? I have such plans for you in 30 short days. I am going to enjoy bespelling you, captivating you, melting you into a somft, obedient puddle

Craig: thank you for sharing the Euros with me, love. I wish they'd ended better. It meant so much that you *wanted* to include me in that, even when you were watching with people in physical space. I can't wait until our next chance to just sit and share hot drinks (and maybe some fruit pastilles) and just *be* together

Dawn: Oh, so many ways to flirt - to be all bratty at you, knowing you know why I brat. Or to be sweet and docile for you, showing how eager I can be to let you in... oh, my love, my Fae, how I adore you.

Wynn: Watching you (and Cammie) play Hollow Knight has been a joy and delight. You continually impress me with your skill and determination, and getting to understand *you* over the last couple of months has been a joy and delight. You are so much more than "these circumstances", and I'm glad you're getting to explore what that means for you, now

u9iey9eugfuifeguiehfioiehionjdbsiligbiloefbuilupbfuiperp

MISSS?!?!?!?!?!?!

I--

*Blushes and whimpering* I am speechless! You have me wordless! I CANNOT WORDS!!!

So--- uh-- I wish everyone were awake and able to just rapid fire a reply for each compliment-- but I can at least compliment you in turn!

The relationship that we have built is the most slow and deliberate courtship of our life with understanding and communication at the center of everything-- our friendship was built over years and years finding one another over and over again as the communities we shared were built and destroyed and there's something so beautiful about the way we rolled in and out of one another's radars for years until the point of which we found each other offline-- I don't think either of us knew how BIG that meeting was when it happened-- you were the first person outside of Oikos to greet me to the IRL community on the very week that we came out as trans and it made us feel so included and part of the new world we found

To think that was only 2 months before COVID lockdowns--- we originally weren't even going to go to that event, we were going to spend "more time in the oven" and debut at the Chicago event later in the year-- I am glad we are in the timeline we are in

I know I've tried to find words for how much you mean to us (up to and including my fictional declarations of affection in Madison/Belladonna) and I'll never stop-- I'll learn your languages and take time to understand why you think and feel as you do and to give space and accommodation and grow with you-- earlier we reblogged a thing about soul mates not being a gift but forged and you and I forge these things so carefully and with such intention-- I never ever ever feel like what we do is work though

You don't cost spoons

I'm not afraid of you

--and given how wounded and scared I was when we began dating-- that means a lot--

I wanna finish the enchanted forest books, I wanna do more trivia, I wanna share more games, I wanna do more shenanigans and teach more classes and travel to more cities and see more shows and build more memories

I love you Daja

I love you so so so much and you are the kindest and most enthusiastic human I've ever seen! The way you just glow with passion and take care of your humans and share your resources and knowledge and heart?

Just-- YOU

YOU!!!!

Also on insistence of the Fae: "Ding!"

[chaotic-on-main]

☆\\ Where I'd take AoT characters on a date IRL HCs:

(may or may not have based these off of places I’ve been to before and things I've done. also every one of these are to be assumed to be over the age of 21)

↓ Marco, Armin, Sasha, Eren, Levi, & Hange ↓

➳ Marco

➤ I’d take him bowling

➤ he’d be very adamant to pay for everything

➤ he'd spend a lot of time trying to find the perfect ball

➤ offers to help me after my 5th gutter ball in a row, even though he’s not very good at it either

➤ with his help, I'm able to hit the pins at least and when I look back at him with a big smile after knocking down 2 pins, “Marco!! Did you see that?! You helped me do that!!” - he would get so nervous and bashful

➤ when he ends up getting an accidental strike, I’d give him a very enthusiastic kiss on the cheek

➤ His face is beet red for the rest of the night. (just imagine those freckles, I'm crying)

➤ neither of us break 100 points but we laugh about it anyways and applaud each other for trying

➤ we'd spend some time in the attached arcade after our lane time is up

➤ he's not very fond of the violent games but he did indulge me with one Mortal Kombat game in which I won purely by being the better button masher

➤ he has a lot of fun with the strategic games though, and even ends up winning enough tickets to get that massive plushy hanging off the wall behind the prize counter that I've been staring at the whole time

➤ afterwards we'd go get greasy food and milkshakes at the diner in town, 90s grunge music plays in the background

➤ I sneak my debit card to the waitress to pay when he's not looking

➳ Armin

➤ I'd take him to an aquarium

➤ he absolutely info dumps on every creature we see

➤ he refuses to let go of my hand the whole time as we walk

➤ at one point he just wants to sit at a bench and stare up at one of the largeest tanks in the building, and we do in comfortable silence

➤ he laughs at my enthusiastic behavior when it’s time to see the sharks and penguins

➤ a kid comes bounding up next to us and starts blabbering about how pretty the fishies are and Armin will lean down and start pointing to specific ones and informs the very wide-eyed child of what they are

➤ I'd watch him with heart eyes the whole time he spoke

➤ I buy him a little stuffed octopus from the gift shop (that his bed is never seen without after this)

➤ he gifts me a small necklace with a little silver conch shell, his face is SO pink

➤ “I-I got you s-something too.”

➤ we’d take a walk down in the park next to the aquarium which just so happens to be by a river

➤ the sun is just starting to set so oranges and pinks are dusting the sky and reflecting off the calm water

➤ we get an ice cream cone from a vendor off the path

➤ I’d get cotton candy whereas Armin finds delight in sea salted caramel

➤ still holding hands of course, and if I pull away for anything, even to get a napkin out of my purse, he whines

➤ the night ends with some stargazing on the dewy grass of the park, both of our arms pointed to the sky as we talk about the stars, our hopes, our dreams, and everything in between

➳ Sasha

➤ I'd take her out to a Brazilian Steakhouse

➤ she'd never heard of them before so the moment I told her the concept of the restaurant, she already had drool down her face

➤ she makes the cost absolutely worth it because she packs away so much meat

➤ We would laugh the whole meal because we'd talk about our favorite weekly memes that popped up on our social medias

➤ we’d go axe throwing after dinner to blow off some steam, which is just a short walk from the restaurant since we’re downtown

➤ she’s getting a couple bullseyes (not a lot though, they’re mainly accidental) and doesn’t hold back her laughter when I utterly fail at even getting the axe to stick

➤ when I do manage to hit the wood and it sticks, she’s screaming so loudly in praise that the people next to us are eyeing us with dirty looks

➤ on the way back to the car, we run across one of those city fountains that spray water straight up from the ground (like for kids but more elegant) and out of pure mischief I shove her straight into a water stream getting her soaked

➤ she pulls me in and then we’re chasing each other through the water while screaming in laughter

➤ we’re dripping wet by the time we make it back to the car but luckily, I come prepared for anything

➤ it’s 11pm by the time we end up finishing our shenanigans

➤ “Taco Bell??” “Fuck yeah.”

➤ our stomachs are so sore from laughing so much

➳ Eren

➤ I’d take him to a rage room

➤ I’m not surprised to see how much pent-up aggression he needed to let out, but he is surprised by mine

➤ everything in the room has no mercy between the two of us

➤ once he’s over the initial shock of “smol but angy”, we’re both cackling like maniacs as we beat the shit out of the car sitting in the center of the room

➤ “Is that all you got!?” “Not in the slightest, Jaeger, watch this!!”

➤ Eren pays for another 30 minutes us because we’re just having so much fun

➤ the room is a chaotic mess by the end of it

➤ when we’re done with that, we’d grab dinner at a pub just down the street

➤ drinks will be had, him a beer and me a fancy ass cocktail that’s stronger than his by a landslide

➤ we’d be having loud drunken conversations about something stupid, probably work related

➤ his cheeks are just so flushed as he stares at me rambling about something going on in the world

➤ “What are you looking at?” “Nothing of importance.” He smirks. “Fuck you.”

➤ he plays the loudest death metal I have ever heard on the way home

➳ Levi

gif by @tatakaeeren ↑

➤ I'd take him home (hear me out)

➤ we'd make a home cooked meal together, something cozy and comforting

➤ maybe it's a recipe that his mom loved to make for him

➤ there’s soft lo-fi jazz playing in the background and the sun is setting just outside the kitchen window

➤ he loves to cook, like me, so we'd work well in the kitchen together.

➤ it takes longer than the recipe states because I'm slow as fuck when it comes to moving around in the kitchen but he would be so patient with me (not without his dry retorts though and me shooting daggers at him, all in light fun)

➤ “Those potatoes could peel themselves faster than you.” “Shut up.”

➤ When chopping onions, I'd be a puffy-eyed mess but he wouldn't even bat an eye

➤ matter of fact, his knife work is impeccable, and I’d have him on cutting duty

➤ eating together consists of comfortable silence and meaningful stares

➤ after dinner, he'd demand that I go sit while he handwashes all of the dishes as well as wipe down all of the counters (which I do without complaints though I still ask “Are you sure you don’t want help?”)

➤ when he's done, he'll come over with some dessert tea and we'll watch a movie or show together snuggled up on the couch

➤ sleepy forehead kisses as I nod off and he stays up half paying attention to the movie

➳ Hange

➤ I'd take them to a science museum center

➤ it's one of those interactive museums with the water features and outdoor activities

➤ Hange gets so giddy at the chemistry section

➤ they’d spend an ungodly amount of time at the physics station

➤ the system they made with the gears and tools provided is way too complex for me to understand but I am proud of them nonetheless

➤ even though most of the science discovery museums are catered to children, they are the most excited and happy one there

➤ there was a moment where they almost pushed a kid aside to gawk at something, but I grabbed their arm in time

➤ I’d have to physically stop them from buying everything at the giftshop

➤ we’d get pizza for lunch (a little Unspoken Words might have made its way in this)

➤ Hange is rambling on about some sort of experiment they would have made had the science center had the resources, a wicked gleam in their eyes as they talk

➤ “I’m just saying, if they ditched the construction paper and used real, raw materials, it would be even better.” “Hange, that’s not safe for kids.” “Who said it would be for the kids?”

➤ we’d go for a drive around town for a while with the windows down and music is cranked as high as possible as the sun sets in the rearview mirror

➤ the shared playlist we made makes no fucking sense

[libertineangel]

6, 18, 19, 21 ...? : )

Thanks!!

6) Last dream I had...I cannot remember at all haha, my sleep has been very badly skewed even by my standards lately so recollection doesn't often last long after waking up. That's a boring answer though so the last one I can recall, which I think was sometime last week, saw me and an old friend I've not spoken to in a while talking in a cramped dimly-lit converted loft flat talking through some stuff between us that we never actually talked through IRL, except we were interrupted by some kind of siren or something outside - it turns out this flat was overlooking Dogtown, Night City, the siren was my cue that I suddenly had to go do some shit for an anarchist cell and very frustratingly left the conversation unfinished to jump out the window onto a BARGHEST floating patrol barge and stab the two soldiers standing on it in the neck.

18) Indecisive as ever I think perfect dates really depend on the sort of mood & atmosphere you want - I am fond of the cliché quiet romantic dinner in a nice location (there's this solid Italian restaurant build into one of the bridge arches by Waterloo Station, just round the corner from the IMAX and a nice walk down the South Bank), but for a little more low-key time I'm happy to slowly meander through a museum, find a chill café and then head home and play boardgames or something; and of course for a more energetic option I am always up for going to a good loud gig, sitting on the Tube home bruised and sweaty and showering it off together.

19) There's plenty of very hateable things in the world these days, including but not limited to: how fucking expensive everything in this city is these days, how there is no decent movement to change that, how the AAA games industry overworks its employees to produce worse games for more money, how both the sporting & commercial sides of Formula 1 management are actively making the sport worse for its workers and less fun to watch in the name of getting more money out of it, and trying to cross the road anywhere around Shepherd's Bush Green.

21) A random fact: neutrinos come in three forms (flavours, as they're called), and have been observed to oscillate between them; the mechanics of the oscillation can be described by pretty much the same maths as the physical oscillation of a system of three pendulums connected to each other by springs.

[readandwritesilver]

i just want to mention this really fast, bcs i've been getting a lot of fic requests recently (i assume because i've been a lot more consistently active the past few weeks than i have been in about a year or two, tho i'm still a bit confused because my bio does still say that im on indefinite hiatus and u have to click past that to send me an ask😭 idk) but i still really have no significant plans to start writing fic again, possibly ever !? it's something that brought me a lot of joy, and i do love to write (i actually spent my senior year writing a whole entire play, that i then directed a performance of for a play festival in my country, as well as a bunch of other stuff including a piece for a magazine in my city😁 so ive been busy lol), but to be honest i had been getting really burned out for a long time, and then a bunch of things happened in my life and i just really didn't have time, and by the time i did have time anymore the inspiration for it was just gone😭. i'm still very proud of a lot of things that i wrote, and i actually went through my Ao3 profile like six or so months ago and took about 20 or so works out of the anonymous collection so that my name would be attached to those as well, so pretty much everything i wrote from 2020-2022 is still very much available and i have 0 intention of changing that. im soooooo forever grateful to all the people that were so lovely to me while i was building my skill during that time. i know fanfic is kinda silly as a concept but like. all that writing stuff IRL that i was just talking about ?? i NEVER would have had the confidence to do that without all the feedback i spent the years leading up to it receiving. love u all, and deepest apologies to the sweet people who are still trusting me with requests for the stories they want to read, but i really don't think i'm coming back to it anytime soon<3

[heartbrake-hotel]

Lordy honey yall makin me wanna write my own damn prompt. I got some more little tidbits for ya:

Elvis was turned during his first appearance at the International. But who turned him? I'm thinking there's some sort of deal going on between one the old vampires who invested in the building, maybe even the International's owner and Colonel Parker. They want Elvis to play there for as long as possible, and he isn't getting any younger--so they make it so he can't get any older, either.

At first Elvis is in a state of confusion, because fledglings (at least in my thoughts) are in a sort of fog when first turned. It helps them to adapt to feeding; cue Colonel Parker shoving cigarette girls into Elvis's suite, which he drains dry, much to his own horror when the initial feeding frenzy lifts.

And Colonel Parker isn't exactly picky with what he feeds Elvis: whoever is easy to get up into the suite, and high young girls are the easiest. Elvis tries, when he can afford it, to not feed--he doesn't know that if he drinks regularly then the frenzy won't come, but nobody has told him much of anything. His Sire isn't there, there wasn't any sort of ritual to his Turning as there normally is. No, this was just business.

aLRIGHT WOOHOO SMITTY MY LOVE LOOK AT US !!! im finally getting to this lmaoooo oOOPS 🙈 AND i have some mf THOUGHTS,,

(the orig hc post is here btw) ((idk if yall could tell but it Wrecked my Shit))

also it's been Sooooo long since we discussed this that u now have some Other relevant supernatural!au lore to pull from . so,, i hope u don't mind if i conflate the two universes a lil but ur worldbuilding in you ain't nothin' but a overtook my conscious mind weeks ago and has yet to relent 💝 oh nooooo.. whatever shall i dooooo.. 😏

far too many words under the cut. i, uh.. i may have lost control a lil 🤭🦇 ft. a frankly excessive use of pet names and an e who has been babygirlified maybe more than is appropriate within the confines of the plot (shocking, i'm sure).

right ok so !! vegas as a hub for at least some of the supernatural bc of its transient nature, high tourist volume, and seedy reputation. obvious check

for the most part, unaffiliated vamps stay out of vegas. like you said- it's too hard to monitor their blood concentrations when everyone and their dog is doing truckloads of party drugs well into the night.! but there are, of course, some Old Ones, who saw (or perhaps even built??) the city as their own personal playground btw this blends so seamlessly into the irl high-level mob ties its crazy lmao. marina's bringing up elvis is literally never not on my mind 🙏

if you're rich enough, or powerful enough (or have friends who are enough so), you don't have to fend for yourself the same way, so it's less of an issue. sucking out some rando party girl off the street is faaar beneath the pay grade of the handful of guys at the top, who have their meals carefully cultivated and hand-procured thru what is almost certainly a human trafficking ring

kirk kerkorian [or meyer kohn - u can pick ur universe, here] and the entire board of the international is of course among this group, exerting their power and influence (and perhaps Compulsion) to keep the flow of money running smoothly from the casinos below directly into their cash-lined pockets.

colonel tom parker [a demon again? or perhaps nobody in particular - either way he ends up hellspawn lmao whether literally or figuratively] is acutely aware of this when he first signs elvis on for the hotel's opening season - how could he not be? and of course everything goes perfectly smoothly for those first six weeks in 1969. **ik im twisting ur original idea just a tad but bear w me

but the longer the engagement goes, the more trouble colonel has reining elvis in. he had agreed heartily to those first fifty-eight appearances - purely to fund his upcoming world tour, you understand ("the snowman strikes again!"). but no matter how much colonel wheedles, he's not budging; elvis simply will not sign on for the next year.! he's finally holding his ground... and that's his undoing

coming off the back of his comeback special and last movie, e finally feels like he's got his mojo workin' - the king is back on top! after a looong decade stuffed fit to bursting with his botched movie career, he never thought he'd wrest any semblance of creative control away from the powers that be. but the last year or so has really made him see the value of his own opinion, AND the dangers of continued complacency. so with the backing of his family and extended entourage, he's heading halfway across the world just as soon as he gets off that stage for the last time.

colonel can't have that, not with the remainder of his hefty personal debt hanging in the balance. and with all the dough the hotel is raking in during the first dregs of their opening season, nobody up top wants their prize little cash cow flying away to london or japan or the rock of eternity or wherever he's fixin' to go - not if they have anything to say about it !

and so a plan is devised, swiftly, mercilessly, and without any pesky sense of remorse. after all, what do they have to feel bad about? they're just taking care of business

just after elvis' last performance, he's heading to his packed-up suite to shower and change for what he thinks will be the last time.. the boys are downstairs getting the last of the stuff in the cars and then they'll all head to the airport. he's got just a couple minutes to spare, and he assures them he'll be fine alone. just gonna run on up and change real quick, y'all don't needta worry about me none. [*evil colonel voice* wanna bet?]

he steps into his unusually empty suite, but before he can even shuck the towel from around his neck, his throat is being wrenched to the side in a vice grip as an unseen assailant steps from their hiding spot behind the door. he yelps, tries to throw them off, goes for the gun in his boot, but their grip is like steel, solid and unyielding, and before he can move much of anywhere there's a sharp prick in his neck and a sudden heaviness in his muscles he can't quite shake.

he assumes it's a syringe - he's not wholly unfamiliar with a needle, after all, and why would he suspect anything else? he guesses he's been drugged on account of... well, on account of bein' elvis presley. goddamn sonsabitches don't need any more reason than that. 'course, the sensation is a little different than he's used to - the gauge is unfamiliar, and he could swear he feels two distinct track marks - but by then his head is spinning too much to be certain of anything.

the last thing he feels is a rushing sense of complacency as his legs give out. his vision is swimming too much too see his attacker's face, but they let him go down, hard, and he crumples to an undignified heap on the floor helplessly as they turn to... leave? huh. not what he expected, but he supposes beggars can't be choosers

his sluggishly disjointed musings are broken only by the shadowy figure melting back into the shadows... his increasingly-addled mind knows he should be glad at their sudden departure, but all he can concentrate on is the inexplicable swing out of the vague sense of euphoria that had been the "drugs" kicking in, and a sudden accompanying feeling that he didn't like one bit. he could only describe it as a crawling fear, an absence, a kind of ripping deep in his soul... a pervasive sense of distance, of wrongness so festering he feared it was about to tear him apart from the inside out. he's suddenly certain he's not meant to be alone right now.

he gasps in the worst pain he's ever felt, and at the same moment, he's aware of a rush of footsteps in the hallway outside - he barely manages a wobbly gesture to the door and a slurred request to rip his goddamn tongue out b'the roots to the panicked faces of his boys crowding around his supine form before his vision finally goes dark.

when he wakes up, he's in an all-too-familiar bed. before running for the doctor and his daddy, a frazzled jerry sitting vigil at his side hurriedly explains that without him conscious enough to fill them in, all they knew is he wasn't fit to travel, so they'd unpacked his suite again while waiting for him to return to the land of the living. he's grateful, but assures him that as soon as he's feeling better they'll be heading out again.

he asks jerry to turn down the thermostat and flip off the light on his way out. the heavily-drawn drapes had already ensured it'd been near-pitch dark and freezing, just how he liked it, but he murmured it felt like he was burnin' up from the inside out, and his eyes were too sensitive for even the ambient glow of his bedside lamp. jerry does so and also fetches him a pair of big ol' sunglasses, without a word.

the doctors (who'd been summoned to the hotel; despite protests from the mafia, colonel had suggested that moving elvis to a hospital could be even more dangerous, what with this criminal still on the loose, and vernon had reluctantly agreed) hadn't been able to tell what he'd been dosed with - it'd metabolized too quickly to detect, apparently. all they can tell him after the last four days of monitoring his comatose form is that his vitals have been almost astonishingly strong. the only symptom he's had has been a high fever, but it breaks as soon as he's awake again- and actually, his body temp has overcorrected and is a little low now, is he feeling chilly?

they joke that whatever he'd been given seems to have actually helped him, and he's inclined to agree... despite the fact that they hadn't administered anything to him except an IV drip, in case it had any adverse interactions with whatever he'd been on, his chronic pain has mysteriously vanished. and since he's been awake and in recovery, he's only seemed to get more handsome and charming, no sign at all of being out of it and on fluids for so long. you sure wouldn't have known his recent predicament by looking at him !

he's got a host of baffling new symptoms as well, but nothing that seems dangerous or that points to any kind of diagnosis. he's growing increasingly thirsty, but the buckets of water he's drinking aren't quenching him. he seems to have lost his sense of taste (this one hits him the worst) - at first, the smell of food made him nauseous. now he can keep it down, but it feels like ash in his mouth. his light sensitivity lingers, though for the most part it's limited to natural light, and he takes to wearing the sunglasses often. he seems to have developed a sudden allergy to some of his jewelry - his silver rings and pendants now cause a burning rash. he has them remade in gold and doesn't give it a second thought.

he tells and retells his story to the cops, but they're left scratching their heads; it's widely assumed the panicked arrival of the mafia scared off the creep before they could pull off the rest of their plan. kill him, kidnap him for ransom... seemed like they'd never know for sure, but either way everyone agrees he narrowly escaped a much worse fate. colonel doesn't think it wise for him to be on the road, what with this continued threat hanging over his head, but jerry argues it doesn't seem any better to stay in vegas with this freak at large. and elvis points out that if the bastard follows him overseas, they have bigger fish to fry.

the boys seem confused that the attack doesn't appear to have played into his usual paranoia in any way; he doesn't know quite how to explain it, he tells them, but he feels stronger, somehow. more settled. like if it ever came to it again, he could handle himself. it might just be relieved cockiness, but what didn't kill him made it so he's at least not afraid again. he's been reflecting deeply on psalm 23, apparently.

and so the suite is once again packed up, despite colonel's protestations- this time with elvis under constant supervision, much to his good-natured amusement. it goes without incident, and they make it all the way to the runway before elvis is suddenly doubled over in pain in the back of the limo, sweating and shaking like a leaf.

he's groaning that it hurts, hurts s'bad, but can't say anything more than that, and within seconds the whole caravan has whipped around and is careening back to the relative safety of the hotel. by the time he's being ferried hurriedly up to his room, he's improving steadily, and by the time he's settled in bed and the doctors once more fetched, he's weak and badly shaken but seems no worse for wear.

the doctors can't explain this apparent relapse any more than the first, but tentatively give him a clean bill of health, and two days later they try it all again. this time he makes it within a couple miles of the airport, and it takes him four days to recover. the last time they try, he only makes it four blocks away from the Strip and is bedridden for a week. nobody has any sort of explanation, and the tour is put on hold indefinitely while they're seemingly stranded.

the colonel is the one who offers a possible solution. he'd been hovering around elvis' room the whole time (like a bad smell, sonny mutters when he's out of earshot), fluttering around with assurances that the hotel would gladly host them as long as they needed, maybe even sign them on for another season if elvis so wished...

when elvis finally roars that he just wants OUT of this place, goddammit in response to vernon's suggestion that he stop working himself up with leaving, colonel finally pounces.

he must put his foot down, he says. his boy is clearly in no condition to travel- no, no, not physically, he hastily amends, when elvis opens his mouth to remind him what the doctors said, but clearly mentally. something about the attack has left him emotionally unstable, it appears, and the idea of leaving, even though he's so sure he wants to, is clearly triggering some kind of psychosomatic attack. why doesn't he make up his mind to stay- not forever, just until his head is screwed on right. he can keep playing the international, and they can find him some head-shrinkers to fix him right up, eh? elvis doesn't see any choice but to glumly agree.

of course, unbeknownst to elvis, the real issue is that his Maker won't allow him to leave vegas city limits. he's been kept totally in the dark as to his situation and is thus totally suggestible, so when the vampire who Turned him (continually employed by the Ancients for just this kind of dirty work) uses their mental connection to Compel him to stay within a certain radius, elvis doesn't even know he's feeling it, much less that it's possible to fight it. his Bat simply obeys without question, to the confusion of his body and conscious mind.

if his Turning had been accompanied by proper ritual, if his Maker had explained any of his new life to him, if he'd received any guidance at all, he'd know he could override this instinct, break the Bond they shared (especially as ill-cultivated as it is), and be on his way. as it is, he's like a dog with a newly-installed invisible fence. a dog who's also growing steadily weaker since his Turning because of his lack of sustenance, mind you.

the colonel knows all this. he also knows that any doctors or psychiatrists that see elvis from this point on will be in the know, be provided by the hotel, and be payed handsomely to tell elvis exactly what the colonel wants him to hear. he send word to the Council that they've got him at last. they rejoice at the prospect of chaining elvis to their stage for an eternity, elvis begrudgingly signs the contract for another engagement, and this is where the real trouble starts...

it's been three weeks since he was inadvertently Turned, and elvis is feeling the affects of not having Fed, though he doesn't realize it. he's weak, he's thirsty, he's snappish, and can somebody turn off those godDAMNED lights !!! the mafia assume it's due to his mental slump and are at a loss except to wait it out, but the colonel thinks he has something to cheer him up. he winks and tells red that elvis will have a few, ehem.. lady visitors tonight, and surely they shouldn't be disturbed. the boys get the hint.

colonel sends up the ditziest cigarette girl he can find downstairs, a perky little blonde, so doped-up out of her mind she's wobbling in her heels. she gasped and flushed darkly when he told her that mr. presley was in need of her services; he hadn't even needed to slip her any cash to incentivize her troubles. he chomped on his cigar and grinned darkly as he watched her giggle her way to the elevator.

elvis, for his part, almost makes it. he'd answered the rhythmic little knock in his robe, loosely tied, and didn't miss the way the sweet young thing at his door gaped at the sight of all that chest on display. before he can even say anything, she's slipped under his arm and further into the room, and he raises an eyebrow and grins as he eases the door shut. he peruses her wares (the CIGARETTES !! im talking about the cigarettes..) more for show than anything else, and hands her a $20 in exchange for a pack he doesn't plan on smoking, telling her to keep the change.

she bends over far more than necessary while stacking boxes back in her tray, and flutters her lashes when she asks him if there's... anything else she can get him. flattered as he is, he tells her, he isn't sure he needs anything just now, but thank you kindly anyways, honey. truthfully, he's not sure he's feeling up for it, but she pouts so prettily as she swings her hips sadly over to the door, and turns back to ask if he's really really sure... the colonel had sent her up with express instructions to give him anything he wanted, she explains, sultry little whine in her voice, and he finds his resolve crumbling.

surely a little kissing wouldn't hurt, he reasons, might even make him feel a lil better, and her eyes light up in glee when he beckons her back over. but the minute she's in his arms, easing her way up to his lips as her eyes flutter shut, he isn't sure what comes over him. they're so close her heartbeat rushes in his ears, and without a thought he's effortlessly snapped her neck (with strength he didn't know he had) and is lapping frantically from her torn throat (pierced with the aid of sharp fangs he's never felt before). she never even saw it coming.

he moans as he sags to the ground, clutching her limp form and still slurping desperately as, for the first time since his attack, his thirst is quenched. he dimly realizes he's done something unforgivable, but his head feels like it's been stuffed with cotton, everything around him distant and foggy. the sense of panic he knows he should be feeling is a far-off twinge, all but muted by the combined cocktail of ecstasy running through him: fresh blood, dope, and a brain fog he can't quite attribute to either.

when she's dry he's sated, the sense of woozy relief hits him so strong that he barely manages to stagger to his feet and stumble over to the couch, chin and hands still covered in blood, before he's passing out for ten hours of the emptiest sleep he's ever had. when he wakes up, all traces of what happened are gone, and with a mind that finally feels clearer than it has for weeks, he almost manages to convince himself it was an incredibly fucked-up dream, so potent that the sweet metallic tang is still blooming on his tongue...

...until of course, the next time it happens. it goes much the same way: the colonel has no trouble locating a girl who'll never be missed- this is vegas, after all- and sends her, high as a kite of her own volition, up to the penthouse to keep company with a disgruntled and starving elvis. he drains her dry before he can even blink, but stays awake this time to spend the next few hours totally blissed out in an uncomfortably drugged haze. the more he comes down, the more he hates not only what he's done but also the way it makes him feel.

thus starts a vicious cycle: elvis, terrified of feeding, swears off blood, until he's half-starved but fighting himself at every turn. the colonel intervenes, sending throngs of low-risk girls up to the suite, where e simply can't help himself anymore, and enters a violent blood-crazed frenzy. he spends the hours after staggering around half-lucid, waiting for the effects to fade so he can convince himself he'll never do it again.

the stronger he maintains his tenuous mental fortitude- the longer he goes between feeds- the more girls he needs in a night to fill him up, and the higher he gets afterwards. he doesn't ask where colonel finds them or what he does with the bodies. he thinks dully that he doesn't much want to know.. it's hard enough on his conscience already.

of course, yet another thing nobody's bothered to explain to poor frightened fledgling elvis is that every time he refuses to feed when he should, every time he feels the welling signs of that dark hunger within himself and shoves them down in distress, every time his instincts are forced to take over and quite literally make him feed, that it exacerbates the mental fog he's feeling.

vampiric lore (which of course he doesn't know) attributes it to a sort of easing-in countermeasure; it's only newly-turned vampires, not fully in touch with their desires, that attempt to starve themselves so, clearly suffering from a mental block regarding the morality of preying upon their former species. to smooth their transition into acceptance of their new form, every time they're forced to feed rather than do it willingly, a potent release of hormones and neurotransmitters floods their system, both to combat any lingering guilt and to make them crave the mental release of feeding just as much as the physical.

if he were to feed normally, if he were to provide his body with the nourishment it needed on a regular basis, his instincts wouldn't have to override his mind this way. he wouldn't be forced to feed so violently or so much, he'd be able to control himself such that he could select his own victims preferentially and even bring himself to stop before killing them, and he wouldn't feel so overwhelmed afterwards.

elvis thinks of his... condition as an affliction, a temptation he lacks the strength to overcome, but really, it's his body's desperate attempt to stay alive when his mind insists on thwarting his ongoing survival at every turn. the bloodlust isn't a punishment but a protective measure, and one he could prevent if he'd take consistent care of his new needs.

and on top of all that, the particular way his intake is chemically tainted only adds to this anguish, because now he's unknowingly also developing a dependency on the drugs- the painful withdrawal symptoms of which serve to strongarm him into feeding even more frequently.

things are only exacerbated by his performance engagement starting back up; of course, it's even easier to find girls- hordes of them batter the doors to the showroom after every show, desperate for just another glimpse of him- but it also means he's got a responsibility to be right there on that stage twice a night, able-minded or no, and he takes that very seriously.

he's got people to support, after all, so he gets very used to functioning while highly intoxicated, whether that means performing, schmoozing the high rollers in the casino at the behest of his hotel benefactors, or smiling through a never-ending stream of reporters and photographers during every interview and press conference.

this is where the reader steps in !!!

you're one of less than a handful of vamps, just two or three, really, who manage to stick around vegas (and consume healthy blood) without the influence of the Old Ones, a feat you manage by staying off the Strip almost entirely. you stick to the suburbs, both as a way to ensure you're not tripping out after every meal, and to (hopefully) stay out of sight and out of mind of the powerful Ancients who don't want anyone infringing on their territory. this is very fright night remake vibes btw if anyone remembers that

but there's very little to do in the dusty, sprawling desert neighborhoods that isn't centered around maintaining the tourism industry downtown, especially for an immortal with nothing but time (and the occasional meal) to kill. you're nowhere near as experienced as those you seek to avoid, but you've been around the block quite a few times yourself, and sometimes the neon glow of the city lights overrides the quiet boredom of your safely-maintained little perimeter.

tonight is one such night: elvis presley had been headlining the international hotel for what felt like ages, or maybe just a blink - it was hard to judge that pesky human time, when their lifespans were so much shorter than yours. either way, he'd been this era's answer to jesus for a few decades now, and you had to admit you were curious to see him in person at last.

you decide on the midnight show- maybe if you're lucky, you can scrounge up a snack on the way home. you don't bother with a ticket- though you have more than enough human money stored up over the years, you're sure it's no use for what promises to be a sold-out show. the bouncers aren't any deterrent, either- you simply Compel them into checking the list for your name another time, and they let you in without a murmur. the showroom is packed so full, you notice as you survey the area, that nobody could ever notice one more.

you slip into a vacant seat at the end of one of the long tables that line the stage, with a group of screaming fans who don't seem to notice that they don't know you. you can't tell if their distraction is borne more from excitement or alcohol, but either way, you're grateful for the cover. you order a bloody mary as your own personal joke and bide your time until the show starts, perusing the booths that line the floor behind you. you recognize a few familiar Old Ones, by face if not name- no surprise, considering who runs the casino just outside.

eventually, the lights fade and the orchestra bursts into an opening riff. you clap with the rest when elvis struts out on stage, looking resplendent in a white jumpsuit, grinning wide and boyishly and practically glowing under the stage lights. his rings flash as he waves to the audience, courteous and attentive even as he starts singing. when the song's over he introduces himself and some of the VIPs, including the owner of the hotel (now there's a vamp who's been getting himself a lot of press lately), and the heavyset man next to him, apparently elvis' own manager. the man gives a simpering smile and wave to the crowd as the spotlights illuminate the booth, and you wrinkle your nose as you turn back to the main stage. you haven't placed it yet, but something seems off about that one.

elvis puts on a good show, you'll give him that, but the longer you watch, the more puzzled you become. he's slurring just a bit when he jokes with the band in between numbers, and more clumsy than you'd expect for someone so flexible; you'd say it was just another hollywood star using and abusing drugs if he didn't look so... panicked every time. he's twitchy, too, keeps getting down toward the edge of the stage like he's about to move out into the crowd and start planting kisses on his clamoring fans, like you've heard he does, but he keeps jerking himself back at the last second. they seem to think he's teasing, screaming louder every time, and he plays it off with a slow grin, but it's almost like... like he's afraid he won't be able to control himself, like...

ah. there it is

you zero in on just the barest flash of fang in his smile, and immediately suss out what's going on. elvis presley, a fledgling vamp in what is indisputably the worst city in the world for fledgling vamps... strange things are happening every day, aren't they?

that leaves you with more questions than answers, however... questions like where's his Master? why isn't he feeding properly? who's keeping him half-starved and strung-out? and most importantly, does he even know what's going on?

you narrow your eyes contemplatively as you watch him fool with the microphone before prompting the band to start the next song. all it takes is seeing his hands tremble around the cord to make you nod decisively and shoot back the rest of your drink. you suppose you can stick around a little longer than originally planned... after all, it seemed like elvis might need a little help fixing this, whether he knew it or not.

you lingered just a little after the show ended, waiting until the throngs of frantic women had pushed their way back to the lobby before heading after them yourself. you glanced around surreptitiously, locating the nearest elevator bay... and near it, a familiar older man with a cane whispering furtively to a clearly-tipsy young woman, one you recognized from your table during the show. she had caught a silk scarf fluttering down in front of her from the man himself and hadn't stopped screaming until the lights came back on. bingo

you ran one hand through your hair haphazardly, tousling it slightly as you stumbled your way over to them. "oh, there you are! i was looking for you," you chirped. she gasps and waves excitedly in the earnest way only drunk girls do, but your mouth is open again before she can speak and do something incriminating, like ask your name. "who's y'r friend? s'he coming upstairs with us?" you giggle, leering at... what had his name been again? ah yes, colonel parker. you silently gave a sigh of thanks for your heightened senses- you might not have recognized him just from your brief glimpse during the show otherwise.

the colonel glanced you over dismissively, clearly writing you off as another inebriated fan - his mistake, but exactly what you wanted him to think all the same. he gave you a leering grin and tapped his cane as he said "ah, i was just asking your friend here to do a simple personal favor for me..." you hummed disinterestedly until he continued "...on behalf of mister presley, of course." you gasped exaggeratedly and willed your cheeks to flush- lucky you had fed recently.

he seems to buy it, from the way his eyebrow ticks upwards when he sees your reaction "perhaps you would like to... accompany her to his suite, no?" he teases. you nod raptly, artificial stars in your eyes, and he snorts as he pushes the call elevator button for you with the top of his cane. "top floor. you two enjoy yourselves," he chuckles. the two of you giggle as he saunters away, towards the casino entrance.

as soon as the doors slide shut behind you, you straighten up and tidy your hair in the chromatic reflection until you're once again presentable. you brush off your outfit, fiddling until you're satisfied, then take a deep breath. snapping once to get your lightly confused companion's attention, your turn her shoulders towards you so she's making woozy and bewildered eye contact with you.

"hi honey. having a good night? good. this is how the rest of it is gonna go, ok? now you listen to me-"

when the doors opened again at the thirtieth floor, the girl (tracy. she had told you absently her name was tracy) waved distractedly over her shoulder as she walked straight out of the elevator bay and into the nearby stairwell, head filled with what she believed to be an immutable truth about the elevator being out of service. she'd walk back to her room (on the off chance there was anyone downstairs monitoring the floor indicator dial), wake up perfectly safe in the morning, and think nothing of it.

meanwhile, you let yourself into elvis' suite with the key tracy had handed over, a parting gift from the colonel. you left the lights off, made yourself comfortable on the couch facing the door, and waited.

you didn't have to wait long- just minutes later, there was noise outside, multiple male voices speaking over each other as they all piled out of the elevator and headed for the door, elvis' the loudest. "yeah, yeah, i said i'd meet you down there, didn't i? doin' my damn head in... i'll tell ya what, y'all g'head and i'll call down there when i'm done. yes i swear, now git!" laughter and good-natured ribbing faded as the elevator doors presumably closed behind the crowd once again, punctuated with a sigh and the click of the door lock disengaging another time.

elvis didn't seem to notice you as he walked in, leaving the light off as well as he patted his face dry with the damp towel looped around his neck. he leaned against the wall with one hand to brace himself as he toed off his boots, then whipped his dark shades off onto a side table and gripped the bridge of his nose with another deep sigh.

"are you in any pain, mr. presley?" he yelped in undignified surprise and whipped around with a touch of vampiric speed, dropping the towel in his fright to discover the source of your voice. despite the pitch blackness of the room, his eyes locked onto yours immediately through the dark, without needing to scan the empty space around you- another sign of his transition. no mortal could see as perfectly well in this scenario as the two of you could.

"wh- who-" he stuttered some, regaining his bearings, as you cocked your head in evaluation. "i'm sorry to startle you, mr. presley," you say evenly, but pleasantly. "you can drop that shit straightaway, honey, that's my daddy. can jus' call me elvis." he murmurs absentmindedly, as if it hadn't been what he really intended to say but came out by habit. "and now that you know me, may i ask who you are? and better yet what the hell you're doing in my room?" he doesn't sound angry, per se, more resigned than anything, and you smile wryly in response as you introduce yourself. "real pretty, honey, but i'd like an answer to my other question, too." he raises his eyebrow, and you wonder if he's even aware of how much charismatic mental energy he's leaking right now. it was even more apparent to you now why humans throw themselves at him left and right.

"sorry, m- i mean, elvis. the colonel sent me up. i saw your show- you were fantastic, but i had a couple questions." "he did, did he? just wonderful," he almost growls, squeezing his eyes shut. "and some questions, you said? you a reporter?" his voice sounds hard-edged for the first time tonight, but he seems to relax again when you answer with a simple no. "just concerned, i guess." he hums tiredly at your response, vague though it is. "concerned about what, 'bout the show? i'll do my best to answer your questions, honey, but i really don't think there's all too much to be concerned about-"

"elvis, when was the last time you fed?" you can hear his breath catch from clear across the room. "i-i had lunch after rehearsals, but i ain't had dinner yet, if that's what you're askin'... pretty forward way to ask me on a date, but i-" you put a hand up to cut him off. "i think you know perfectly well that's not what i'm asking, elvis. when was the last time you fed properly? on blood?" "...ha! been watching a little too many dark shadows reruns, honey?" his words trip over themselves getting out, and eventually he gives up to just blink at you, speechless, owl-eyed, and afraid despite his frankly pathetic attempt at a cover. he looks like a little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar only this time the metaphorical cookie jar is a number of very literal human corpses lol

you bite back a sigh- perhaps you pushed too hard there. poor thing is wringing his hands like he thinks you're gonna put him in cuffs any minute. "maybe we should start over- i'm here to help, ok? i wanna make sure you're alright, cuz i think you might have a lot of questions nobody's explained to you yet. c'mere and sit next to me, baby, and we'll just talk" you pat the seat next to you, flipping his casual pet naming back on him effortlessly. to be fair, he is a baby to you- only, what, a couple months old? that's nothing compared to your few hundred years.

he eyes the spot next to you but shakes his head, still looking like a lost puppy. "n-no, i- m'fine over here," he manages. you furrow your brow; he's gonna need to start trusting you if he wants your help, and this is a bad way to begin. "i promise, i'm not gonna hurt you, elvis-" that sure does it. "i'm not worried about that!" he exclaims. "m'worried about me hurting you!"

you breathe out a surprised little oh, suddenly understanding. "is that what you're so worried about, sweetie? i'm not afraid of you." you try to placate him. "y-you should be afraid of me, honey. i am."

and that's the crux of the matter, isn't it? it breaks your heart a little to know that this is what he's been grappling with alone. it's not meant to be like this- with time and acceptance, he was meant to gain eternal companionship (your semi-loner status nonwithstanding). and whoever heard of a scared vampire?

but you put that aside to focus on elvis- and quickly realize there's one more... little thing you might've left out.

"you don't need to be anymore, ok? i'm gonna help you learn to control it." you beckon him over again, and this time he makes it halfway across the floor before you realize you're not sure if you're Compelling him or not. he'll need to learn what it feels like eventually, in order to both use it and combat it, but now's probably not the time. you break eye contact, just in case, and he falters slightly, but keeps coming, putting you at ease.

as he gets close enough to hear your heartbeat, though, his eyes suddenly turn frantic, and he backpedals, once again in the grip of that familiar terror. "you- you have to get out of here, i can't-" you shush him, not unkindly. "oh, sweetheart. that one's my bad, ok? i guess i haven't been very good at this so far," you grin apologetically. "but you couldn't hurt me, even if you tried"

you use your superspeed to whoosh over to his side and back, the only sign you'd moved at all the slight sway of your hair in the breeze it creates- and the golden ankh pendant now swinging from your upturned palm. elvis gapes, hands reaching up to feel the now-empty space around his neck where the necklace rested just moments ago. "how...?" listen i really can't be assed abt the fact he wasn't wearing necklaces this early ok. it was a cool move

"forgot to tell you - i'm souped up, too." you wink at him, flashing your pupils the deep red they turn when you're Feeding. "and also i think a little stronger than you, given what i saw on stage tonight." this is soo cliche im sorry but Spooky Eyes HAWT. i don't feel bad about it actually

the immediate sense of overwhelming relief on his face almost aches to see, and he's crossed the remaining stretch of floor to practically collapse in your arms sobbing before you can blink. it's... very surprising, you'll admit, but not unwelcome, either, and you're sure the uncertainty lingers in your voice as you gentle him softly, petting his hair and rubbing his back and trying not to overthink the fact that you've known elvis presley for all of ten minutes and now... this is happening. whatever this is.

"woah- woah, hey, what's happening? what's the matter, baby?" he's shaking like a leaf as you hold him, trying to work out in what universe this makes sense. "i-i-i ain't-" he manages through tears. "i haven't been able to touch any-anyone this whole time without b-being so goddamned afraid i'd hurt 'em... and i just- i..."

your worst fears for him, first materialized as you watched him onstage and puzzled about the identity of his Master, are confirmed. "baby... have you been alone this whole time?" you whisper. he just nods from his resting place, face buried in your shoulder. IS this a weird level of intimacy for 2 virtual strangers? totally yup. DO i still think its arguably valid considering how desperately lonely i have decided to make this bitch? uh huh :3

you suck in a breath through your teeth, suddenly filled with the fiery emotion you've been tamping down all night- rage. rage at whoever organized this hit, at whoever must be profiting off it while elvis suffers and innocent girls die, at the colonel who's been shepherding bodies in here endlessly and apparently without deigning to give elvis any proper help or training- yeah, don't think you forgot about him.

but before you can do anything about that, you have to do something with the king of rock 'n roll, who's finally quieting down in your lap. you shove the anger back down, the same way you do your bloodlust- the same way you'll teach elvis.

he sits back up, furiously wiping his tear-stained face. "sorry, honey- i don't know what came over me." he barks a laugh but his eyes tell you it's for show. you tut at him, standing up to fetch him a tissue and maybe a bottle of water, if you can find it- you're sure there must have been one waiting for him after the show. his eyes widen again, but before he has time for concern you cup his cheek to brush the last of his tears away with the pad of your thumb, accompanied by a gently chiding look that says i'm not going anywhere

he has enough time to look sheepish before you putter back over to him with your spoils, talking a mile a minute to distract him. "tch, enough of that! that's part of the change- everything you felt before is doubly strong now. it can be hard to separate your emotions sometimes, especially when you're not used to it. you'll feel everything differently now, and twice as hard."

he takes a moment to mull that over as he mops his face and chugs the water bottle, then nods as he meets your eyes again. "i didn't know that, but it sounds- it feels right. what else can ya tell me?" you chuckle darkly, stretching out on the couch. "oh, just bunches, baby. get comfortable, cuz i know you've got questions- and i've got your answers."

over the course of the night, you explain everything to elvis- how he was Turned, the changes his body's going through, all the symptoms and abilities he'll experience now, why he's feeling the way he is, his options for feeding, how his habits need to change if he intends to keep going like this... it's a laborious process, given how little he knows and how much he thinks he does- he's already got a lot of misconceptions to retrain.

"hey, maybe you're the one who's been watching too many dark shadows reruns lately!" you mean it as a joke, but he flushes. "well, s'not like there's a, a handbook or anythin'! i've been tryin' to study up!" you burst out laughing, and he laughs with you.

at one point he orders up dinner for the two of you, which provides the perfect opportunity for you to offer him a creature comfort- "food? yeah, you can eat food. it won't sustain you, but you're free to eat for pleasure." at his pained look, you give him a knowing smirk. "i bet it tastes nasty right now, doesn't it?" he nods glumly, eyeing your super-rare hamburger, and you chuckle, eyeing him as you take an exaggerated bite. he groans in annoyance, and you laugh as you lick your fingers clean. "don't worry- that'll pass. it's your instincts' way of telling you that you're malnourished- kind of a deterrent from stuff that won't actually keep you alive. you'll be back to your peanut butter and banana in no time, promise." he cheers, and orders up a bottle of champagne, just for that.

"that's another thing- we metabolize differently. your system can tell the difference between the liquid calories it needs and the solid calories you're feeding it just for fun. you won't derive any energy from human food, so you can't gain weight. no reason to store fat," you shrug. "but it also means-" you clink your champagne glass with his in a mock toast, "-you can't get drunk." he sputters, "well, why'd you even let me order the bubbly then?? this shit's expensive, so they tell me!" "i like the way it sparkles! it tickles my nose!"

the hours come and go, but the two of you barely notice, so wrapped up in your conversation. that's another thing you explain- how he'll need much less rest now, if he keeps himself healthy, but that until he's being nourished properly he'll be fatigued and need to sleep pretty much like before. he admits that he was practically nocturnal beforehand, anyway- he hadn't even noticed this one change among so many more pressing.

his drapes were heavy-duty, but you could see just the barest sliver of skyline out the window as the sun began to rise. "it's almost dawn," you whisper, conscious of the fact that the vampire before you is very young, and has had a very long night. a very long month, to be perfectly honest. he hums from where his head is resting on your thigh- you'd encouraged him to lie down an hour ago when he kept breaking off his sentences to yawn hugely. actually, you'd encouraged him to get some rest and you'd talk more later, but he'd refused to go to bed, assuring you he wasn't tired 't all, just sore from the show- he got muscle aches, you know, and he needed to stretch out. you hadn't been convinced then, and you were even less so now, keeping a fond eye on him (fond?? when had that happened) as he drowsed in your lap.

his end of the conversation had started lagging about the same time you started running your hand through his hair, until he was practically purring in contentment. you huffed in amusement. "more like a kitty cat than a bat, i think." he cocked an eyebrow and grinned salaciously, though he didn't open his eyes. "oh honey, i'll show you a cat... a pussycat, to be precis-" "HEY!" you swatted him teasingly and he snickered, settling down again. "keep it clean, presley." "yes, Master." you paused in your ministrations at that, just long enough for his brow to furrow. "you don't have to call me that." "yeah... but can i? i mean, would'ya mind if i-?" his voice was quiet, but sincere. "...ok. but only if you want to." he can hear the smile in your voice without looking, and it makes him smile, too.

"you do have a real one out there, y'know." "i know. but they ain't ever helped me none- all they've done for me is turn my life upside down and leave again. but you... hell, honey, i've only known you one night, and already things are starting to feel right side up again." you sit with that for just long enough to feel pleased before you reach down to tweak his nose. he giggles, and your bid to give the both of you a break from being so fucking earnest goes off without a hitch. the tension stays broken, but the tranquil mood remains.

"guess you're stuck with me again- i can't make it all the way home in that," you venture eventually, nodding at the lone streak of sun making its way past the blackout curtains to pool on the floor behind the piano. luckily far out of the way, or he might've had a particularly unpleasant awakening of his own, had he stumbled through the patch accidentally. he shifts minutely, well on his way to sleep by now. "mm, sounds jus' awful," he drawls, answer delayed only slightly by the fact that he's snoozing, his voice is so quiet that without your enhanced senses you'd have to strain to hear it. "can't imagine quite how i'll make it through if you've gotta stick around s'more." "even dead to the world, you maintain your sense of humor, huh, baby? and those lady-killer tendencies, i see" "yeah, well, i have killed quite a few lad-" "elvis!" you laugh, scandalized, as he huffs a laugh as well as he leverages himself up to sitting.

he rubs his eyes as he tries to get his bearings. "s'pose that's my way of asking real tactful... what happens next?" "well, first we've gotta detox you." "what, from the blood? i thought you said-" "nope, not from the blood. from the drugs in the blood." "from the w-" he gapes, looking shocked and hurt, and also a little appalled at himself. "i really am sorry to break it to you, sweetheart- there's a lot going on with you right now, and only some of it is due to... this," you reach up a hand to thumb at one of his fangs, which had slipped out as soon as you started talking about blood. "the rest of it is a combination of the vegas lights and whoever up top orchestrated the whole thing." he nods slowly, expression inscrutable. "we'll take it slow, i promise. ok?" "yeah," he nods more steadily now. "yeah, i trust you."

"well, then, mr. presley- are you ready?" he nods his head as if on instinct, then has the decency to look confused. "ready for what?" you smile, fangs out. "to start getting you fixed up... so we can take down those bastards responsible for this." he just stares at you a moment before a slow grin starts to take over his face, eyes darkening to match the quite literally bloodthirsty expression in yours.

"let's get to it."