#wish I could unlearn that tidbit

[feykrorovaan]

Sometimes I think about what lyrium actually is and I just

[shadowdianne]

I adore to love you; even if I don’t like you (SQ thingie)

In order to make the clusterfuk I’ve made with @emettkaysworld‘s prompt more readable... Here is every part I already have written together. The next part will be posted tomorrow. 

Don’t give me one-sided unrequited love, give me two-sided unwanted love. Both sides are deeply in love with the other and both sides are like ‘fuck, really?? them??? really?’

“You are in love with her.”

The first time Emma heard those words she bared her teeth and refused to answer to it, the shattering sound of the toaster she had been destroying minutes prior as it fell into the wooden floor of the small apartment answer enough for her roommates big, round eyes. She wasn’t in love, she thought, anger running through her veins as she left the screwdriver on top of the kitchen counter; completely livid.

Running her hand down her hair, she shot a quick grim look towards Mary Margaret, thinking briefly on the romance novella the woman seemed to devour on her free time and wishing to be meaner, to be able to be scathing and tell her roommate how she wasn’t a character from those stories, plain, simple and bland.

“I’m not.” She replied curtly. Because, truly, she wasn’t. She had known Regina for less than a month and everything she really wanted to do to her was to show her she meant her words about staying. For Henry. For herself even as it was becoming abundantly clear to her she needed to start keeping promises to a child she didn’t know had existed a few weeks before. Even if it was only because of the quickly sinking realization that she cared about the kid in a way she had never felt prepared to feel.

The fact that she also wanted to rip one of those power suits the brunette seemed to be charmed by from the woman’s body and fuck her on any nearest surface available was a different problem entirely. One she planned to take care as soon as she was free enough to take her car and go to the nearest town if she needed; consequences be damned.

She didn’t say Mary Margaret that, of course. She didn’t want to explore her feelings on that matter as the sweet brunette kept asking on why or how it wasn’t possible for Emma to feel any kind of positive feeling regarding Regina. And so, when Gold sauntered on the apartment any trace of that conversation was completely forgotten.

“You want to sleep with her.”

The first time Regina heard those words they were said by a slightly amused Kathryn and she growled at them, not as amused and certainly not as entertained as the woman who had ended up being what she would have called her “confidant” back in a world made of intrigues and magic.

Because the blonde was wrong, awfully wrong. She did not want to sleep with the wretched woman that had entered into her town, putting a set of cogs into motion that shouldn’t have been able to move to begin with. And even if she did, she relented before taking a sip of cider that felt far too bitter on the back of her throat, she would only do it in order to wipe the awful smirk from her lips.

“You like her.”

The second time Emma heard the words they were less warm, more cutting and she rose her chin stubbornly as she helped Regina to stand, the chill air of midmorning seeming to seep from the windows that casted the sheriff’s office with far too bright light. She didn’t glance at Regina as she stared at her parents, not even when she felt a squeeze on her hand before the brunette let her hand go, eyes downcast and lips pressed tightly together.

Because it was a stupid idea, an idea she wasn’t even going to entertain. She had made a promise to Henry. One she fully intended to follow no matter where it lead her and so she stood tall and proud against the people that now seemed to be her parents. Parents that had left her at the side of a road, stuck in a world that would grow to be hers.

And yet when she shook her head and refused to acknowledge the words she felt a tug inside of her, one that made her groan inwardly. She was going to save Regina, and nothing, not even Snow White’s deluded ideas, would make her think twice about the fact that when Regina had stared at her with nothing but loss on her eyes she had wanted to push her even harder against the supply closet’s wall, asking, demanding more of her than a simple broken nod.

And so, they walked, hoping to find a way to defeat the wraith.

“You care for her.”

The third time Emma heard the words coming from Snow she simply let the door of the dinner close behind her, briefly glancing outside, at the retreating form of Regina as the brunette looked inside on final time, tiredness marring her features in a way that made her blink quickly, realizing she had been caught staring before simply walking way the slightly drunken woman that kept on telling her she was her mother.

It was stupid, she thought, picking a glass of her own, the burn on her cheeks still present from where she had smiled at Regina earlier when the brunette had walked inside the dinner with something so close to “hope” written on her eyes that Emma had wondered for the first time how a younger version of the brunette would have been. She didn’t care for Regina, not like Snow seemed to be so intent on making it look.

The fact that her feelings regarding wanting to fuck Regina up her office desk had kept swirling on her brain a tiny tidbit she didn’t intend on sharing with anyone. Not even with Ruby who had already heard her complaining about the insanely hot woman enough times to glare at her with something close to pity and amusement.

And so, she scooted closer to Henry and hugged him, the gentle hum she had been feeling ever since Cora had sunk her fingers on her chest growing stronger for a moment before settling back down.

“You trust her.”

The second time Regina heard something to related to Emma Swan in that regard she paled and stood proudly in front of her mother as the woman glanced down at her, the coldness of her tone a menacing one Regina seemed to still not have forgotten, a jerk-reaction her muscles had still to unlearn. And she wanted to laugh at the simple notion of her trusting the blonde, of her thinking of her as anything other than a nuisance.

A nuisance who had invited her to a party before coming to her home and telling that Henry, her precious prince, wasn’t hers. A nuisance that had stared at her with kindness and warmth only to scream at her, angry and furious because of something Regina knew she hadn’t done. A nuisance that had looked at her on that godforsaken well with something close to relief before staring at her, the word “murderer” written down on every speck of blue and green her eyes seemed to be made of.

Because no, she didn’t trust Emma Swan, she couldn’t and wouldn’t fall for that trap. And so, she waited patiently until her mother’s magic retracted back again, the tendrils satisfied as her magic did not react to them, did not rise nor bristle at the mention of the blonde woman. With a hum she moved back to the doorway of the room both she and her mother were standing in, the reflex of clasping a ring that she didn’t have fastened around her neck anymore brief and short.

She did not trust Emma Swan. She couldn’t trust the woman with a file report. She did not trust her and will not trust her with something as stupid as secrets full of a mother who had molded every piece of who she had ended up transforming into.

No, she did not.

“You want her.”

The fourth time Emma was presented with that idea she found herself wanting to punch Hook’s smug face as strong as she was able to, hot tears beginning to build-up on her eyes as she felt for Regina, for the woman who had stared at her with nothing but openness and pain as she tried to contain a magic that was about to devour them all.

Because this, the feeling she felt on her chest wasn’t close to even the idea of “want”. Because the man that was standing in front of her had worked with the ones who had strapped Regina to a table, electricity still high on the air if Snow’s recollection of what was happening was true. And she knew it to be true in the same way she knew that there was no chance, no possible positive outcome, for the brunette who had asked them to go, giving up everything as she tried to contain a trigger that was, by default, unstoppable. Because wanting Regina was just an idiotic notion. One that made her want to scream and use her newfound magic to do something, anything.

And it was perhaps that flash of anger, of numbing fury, what made her turn and gasp. Because it was stupid to even think about what or why those feelings, those words, kept being directed at her when she, maybe, could save Regina in a way that still rung too close to the idea of Savior the people around her still tried to pair her up with. And yet, she realized, she did not care for titles or pedestals. Not when Regina could very well survive and tell her how much she loathed her, how much she felt her utterly detestable.

And so, she run.

“You can’t lose her.”

The third time such idea entered Regina’s mind it did not came from anyone but her own mind as she approached the tottering edge of the ship with fury crackling above them all and rain falling upon any surface of the hull, the dagger-like freezing drops not helping her or the anguish muffled scream that came out of her lips.

And she wanted to laugh at herself the moments those words appeared on her mind because it couldn’t be true. It simply couldn’t and as such she stared as Charming jumped out of the ship with the same kind of maniac glint Snow had at her side, the idea of losing Emma just as jarring, just as terrifying.

It was stupid, ludicrous yet she sighed in relief as David appeared with Emma’s body between his arms, pale cheeks clammy and clattering when the blonde was finally brought to the ship.

“You need to tell her how you feel.”

The fifth time such idea was spoken was the fourth her mother toyed with it and Emma could only glance at the sky above them, waiting for the curse to float towards them any minute now. Tiredness shagging her shoulders, she casted a glare towards the brunette woman and remained silent until Snow sighed and hugged her tightly, tears staining her eyes when she moved backwards, chin wobbly and color withdraw from her face.

Because there was nothing to be said, Emma thought. Nothing to be said to the woman who stupidly, so so stupidly, was about to watch them walk away from a town Emma was just starting to learn to consider it home. Because she had nothing to say to a woman who saw potential and power on her even at the darkest of times. Because there was nothing to admit and she would never dare to say anything to a woman that was eyeing her with something close to despair. Because there was nothing to realize to a woman who whispered her name the first time she opened her eyes, a plan forming on the back of brown pupils, crazed and tinted with purple sparks.

Because… they were already gone, a ghost of an actual hug around her shoulders and magic clouding her memories until Regina was nothing but a shadow on her dreams for a year.

“You miss her.”

Regina wanted to cackle at that, at the fact that she knew who Snow was referring to without even asking for confirmation and for a moment, a moment too long, she considered on simply using her magic to mute the damned woman, using the loss she felt as the only weapon she had left alongside with her still beating heart.

Because no, of course she did not miss Emma. She couldn’t miss the damned woman, the woman she had trusted with her son. Their son. Because no, she couldn’t be feeling something like that, because Daniel was dead, and Cora was dead, and her father was dead and every part of herself that had cared and loved was deeply hidden beneath Henry’s memories. The ones she now shared with a green-eyed woman who would never know that there was someone, realms away, crying from the loss of something that hadn’t even begun.

Spurring on her horse, she left the woman behind her, approaching as she did to the back of the one and only Robin Hood.

She did not miss Emma Swan.

And her words were lies, but she didn’t even care.

“You loved her.”

Emma had already stopped counting the times she had been faced with a similar statement, but she actually winced at Henry’s keen eyes, at the way the teen eyed her from above the game they both had been playing for the past hour, Storybrooke’s dim light already gone from the window’s glass. The kid was staring at her with the glance Emma hadn’t know why it had made her narrow her eyes and think of a woman she knew was merely on her dreams. Now that she knew, she could only laugh softly at that detail, merely pushing buttons blindly as she saw the life her character grew slimmer on the red bar displayed on the screen.

It could be a good cover-up, she mussed inwardly. But not one she was open to try. Not even for the kid, no matter how confused he must feel, trapped in a town he didn’t remember, surrounded by people who looked at him as if they knew a secret he didn’t. She hadn’t loved Regina Mills. Not by a long shot. She had been insufferable, caring, strict, amazing and she really felt her very insides about to melt with the input of magic she had forgotten she owned, buzzing beneath her fingertips with every time she ended up thinking about the brunette who had approached her with something close to awe back at Granny’s diner.

It didn’t matter, she said as she remained still, so still that Henry eventually sighed and kept playing a glare of warning the las thing he shot at her: the same aversion at lies still ingrained on his psyche.

And so she watched her character died, not moving until Henry muttered a succinct “whatever” that scorched her insides.

“She is your weakness.”

Zelena sounded delighted at that idea and Regina gritted her teeth at that, at the fact her apparently idiotic half-sister could look at Emma and see nothing more but a way of hurting her. Just like Mother had done, just like she had been taught to do.

She even felt a pang of guilt at the lack of her heart, something she knew was completely impossible and still made her pause as she eyed the grin on the red-heads face. Because no, Emma wasn’t her weakness, Emma was the woman who proved time and time again that she was awfully stubborn, unable to hear or follow any kind of order and just so intrinsically good that made Regina seethe and growl at the very same idea of pushing her on the idea of magic, of that very same thing that had destroyed her beyond repair.

Because Emma was just the woman with who she had made the arrangement of caring for Henry. Because Emma was the woman who had admitted thinking about returning back to New York and that actually made her head swirl, the ghost of a hand on her empty chest making her snarl. Because she still could remember the days when desire, when sex, was the easy take on a convoluted answer. Because under any circumstance Emma Swan made her weak.

Not now, not ever.

“You want her close.”

It was the second time Snow looked at Regina as if she knew something the brunette didn’t, and Regina felt a scream bubbling inside of her as she stared at the general direction Emma had stormed off, vestiges of her magic floating in the air, embedded into her skin. She did not wish to help the woman, she did not wish to see her face nor talk to her. Tired, frozen as she was in place. She did not intend to forgive Emma because that would mean admitting an ugly truth she didn’t even want to process. She did not want to speak or admit that she missed the blonde.

Because the woman’s magic wasn’t, shouldn’t be her problem and yet her skin was on fire at the touch of the woman’s power; deep and strong and with a potential Regina felt drawn to no matter the amount of time it passed ever since Emma had come to her home, claiming she had such ability.

She would not, and she did not. Walking away in a hurry and a plume of purple that got lighter each day it passed.

“You want her safe”

Emma didn’t even think on answer that dignified the question, stupid, entirely stupid and pointless as she walked from corner to corner of an apartment that felt asfiaxting each second it passed without her knowing where Regina was. And yet, when she glanced at her parents she needed to bite down on her tongue because of course, of course she wanted Regina safe and away from the people that made her eyes darken worriedly, a shadow of a past both of them knew close, far too close, glimmering on those brown eyes.

Because of course she would want Regina away from Maleficient cunning eyes; away from that aura of something that made her skin prick and crawl. Because of course she wanted her away from a path that was going to lead her to nothing but ashes. Because of course she wanted an answer of why, why, she hadn’t been informed of such an idiotic idea. Because of course she wanted her safe.

And, precisely because of that she did not even thought twice about a conversation that had happened year ago on that very same apartment, a toaster on the floor and anger coloring her words. Because it was pointless and stupid and of course she cared. It was impossible not to as overbearing, as maddening as Regina was.

“You need her.”

Emma closed her eyes at Snow’s words as she eyed both her and David, the idea of needing Regina as she tried to follow a track of yet another person of her past seemingly connected with her destiny dizzying enough to even consider her mother’s idea of her needing Regina at her side.

Because she didn’t need her. And yet she wanted her. And that itself was idiotic and pathetic and not the best idea to follow. Not with Robin lost in the middle of the nowhere they were going to quickly walk in. Not with Cruella’s death hanging so close around her neck, like a noose slowly draining her of any kind of energy and reasoning. Because it didn’t matter, not right now, the fact that she truly hoped to be able to spend time with Regina’s thoughts. Because she didn’t, couldn’t even possibly think on needing her, on wanting her close. And yet her fingers burnt hotly with magic that swirled and grew inside of her, running through her veins, electrifying her body, making her stumble.

Oh, much she wanted her.

[helminikula-blog]

have you seen HELMI NIKULA, the 21 year old WITCH in the pocono mountains? they work as a RECORD STORE CASHIER. they’re known to be STUBBORN & OUTSPOKEN, but also FREE-SPIRITED & LOYAL. their soulmate looks like TBA but who knows what will happen between them?

ALRIGHT SO hello fam i’m dee and this is my angel helmi !! i’m super excited to be here and finally play her, and i hope you guys love her as much as i do dhjfgfjdk. ANYWAY pls brace yourselves for this hot mess of an intro. if you’d like to plot with helmi, feel free to shoot me an im or just give this post a like and i’ll happily come to you !!

TW FOR ABUSE, MURDER, AND CANCER MENTIONS !

BIOGRAPHY

helmi’s home life wasn’t the greatest tbh ?? her mother was kind of an infamous witch, known for being cruel and rather sadistic. we’re talking the definition of power hungry here, y’all. she tried to mold helmi into an almost mirror image of herself, teaching her the darker side of magic and all of the ways in which it can ruin, but helmi was never built for such brutality. and while there were definitely times in her childhood where she was severely misguided, at her core, helmi’s heart was too pure.

highkey helmi would not be the person she is today without her aunt and uncle. their home was a safe space for her; where she could be angry, confused, and scared without punishment, and a place where she could unlearn the horrible things her mother taught her. her aunt spent time teaching helmi the positive side of magic, how it can mend and help. and while her uncle was only a human, a fragile man whose body had been wracked by cancer, he nurtured her kind spirit and curious ways, encouraging his young niece to put good out into the world with the time she had been given. they were more parental figures to helmi than her biological ones, and helmi couldn’t help but think of them as such.

tbh it wasn’t until helms turned thirteen that shit really started to hit the fan ?? basically her mother had grown frustrated with how stubborn helmi had become and lowkey jealous of the relationship she’d developed with her sister and brother-in-law. angry and fearing that if helmi wouldn’t become just like her, she’d one day grow strong enough to kill her, orla nikula decided that her daughter had to die first.

if helmi wouldn’t use her magic to its fullest potential, then she would. orla recruited a few coven members to help in her mission, the pack of bloodthirsty witches ripping the young girl from the safety of her bed one cold january night. they dragged her deep into the woods, helmi kicking and screaming and pleading all the way. orla planned to drain the child of her magic, assisting in stringing her own flesh and blood up like a hog about to be slaughtered. they planned on bleeding helmi until the last drop, making two long incisions on either side of her body.

she should’ve died that night, a fact helmi knows to this day. if it hadn’t been for her beloved aunt and few good souls storming the ritual that night, helmi nikula would simply be a name on a tombstone. blood magic was the only thing that kept her alive until paramedics arrived, and after some rather intensive surgery, somehow the little witch pulled through.

as one could probably guess, helmi lived full-time with her aunt and uncle after such a traumatic event. they protected her fiercely and nursed her back to health, her uncle even giving up cancer treatments in order to be able to fund the bill for helmi’s surgeries. i wish i could say this is the part where the story comes to a close and ends with a happily ever after, but tragedy would once again befall their little abode. her aunt’s bold actions didn’t go without consequence, the act of betraying her sister catching up to her in the form of a bloody end. helmi was seventeen when she lost her maternal figure, deirdre cullen found stabbed to death in her own home. 

after such a heavy loss, helmi and her uncle scrapped together what money they had left and moved a few miles to the town of east stroudsburg. she landed herself a job at the local record store and managed to graduate high school, promptly enrolling in community college in the hopes of one day graduating with a bachelor’s degree in communications. her uncle passed away during helmi’s first year of college, the cancer eating away at him as the months ticked by. 

TIDBITS

silently, helmi irrationally blames herself for her uncle’s death since he gave up his treatments to fund her recovery.

she has two long, pretty gnarly scars on either side of her body that she’s hella self-conscious about.

after she graduates college, she hopes to go into radio and become a host - possibly even have her own show.

helmi loves plants, especially succulents and cacti. she has a bunch that she tends to and loves very dearly. and she may or may not talk to them when she’s feeling down.

her favorite color is yellow, and her proudest possession by far is her freddie mercury tattoo.

her uncle got her into collecting vinyl and classic rock. her collection has become pretty extensive over the years, ranging from bands like led zeppelin and the eagles to def leppard and motley crue. however, fleetwood mac will always be her all-time favorite band.

y’know how everyone has their depression shows ?? helmi’s are king of the hill, the league, it’s always sunny, and bob’s burgers. ya girl loves her comedies.

[lorenasha]

NZed to The Great Wall

Close to 40 countries and God knows how many blog entries later it finally happened, my New Zealand notes were mysteriously deleted from my email drafts. Taking notes along the way is the only way I’ve been able to paint anything close to the picture that is a trip around the world. Rather than force you through some b.s. version of what I think I remember, I’ll mention the highlights of what I know I’ll never forget. Ah, NZed… Queenstown to be exact (and a little bit of Auckland too). In my opinion, the most beautiful place on earth. The air is so clean I literally choked as I stepped out of the airport. Is it that this air is so clean or that L.A.’s air is so dirty? Who knows, but I’ll take it. I haven’t smelled air this clean since the Swiss Alps! Ah, the Swiss Alps. I smile just thinking about that beautiful place.

As the inventor of extreme sports, I told myself that if I made it to New Zealand (the proverbial end of the earth) I would “no holds bar” do everything I could get my hands on. Luging, check. Skydiving, check. Zorbing, well let’s just say the track was closed due to a very unfortunate incident. Big fat goose egg and I’m ok with that. Not sure which Kiwi decided locking yourself in a plastic ball and plummeting downhill was and good idea, but it seems a track or barricade of some kind is in order, or at the very least no nearby cliffs of any kind.  Bunjee jumping, ummm, everything in me questioned if I should do this one. If not due to my severe neck injury from a head on collision when I was 16, then perhaps due to the fact that a cadaver Achilles tendon now makes up my left ACL. Just as I grew the cahonas to agree to take the plunge, AJ Hacket’s medical team decided I wasn’t clear to jump due to the fact my neck still goes out at least once a year. Probably a blessing in disguise and happy I told them. They said there is absolutely a ‘snapping effect’ that happens at the bottom. Definitely a blessing, although admittedly I was upset at the time. 

I wish I could recall more, perhaps a tidbit or two here and there. Being in New Zealand is like being inside one massive Bob Ross painting, or at least how I’d imagine it to be. Happy Trees is an understatement. We should all be so lucky to die and come back as a tree in New Zealand. They’ve clearly taken care of their land and cherish it’s natural beauty and resources in a way that again, I haven’t seen since Switzerland. I imagine this is what America looked like before…well before the white man came and fucked it all up. I mean yay democracy, but I think we could’ve done a much better job of protecting the land and it’s people. After travelling from deserts to wetlands and from rice patties to major metros, one thing I can say for sure is that not every land is lucky enough to be blessed with the vast natural resources of America. Sorry, my Central American and South American friends would say I’m no longer allowed to refer to America as America…they are Americans too. Ok, so the United States of America to be exact and I guess that makes me a United Statesean?

I’d be remiss not to mention their quarentine process. Toughest I saw anywhere and honestly I’m still not sure if I followed all of the rules. Does dried fruit count and how thoroughly should I have washed my shoes? What exactly qualifies as back country or farmland and to be honest, I have no idea what I’ve been exposed to during this trip. It was the only country where the quarantine process (and line!) was completely seperate from customs and immigration.  God knows they make you aware of the financial penalties, but incarceration with friendly Kiwis and epic views doesn't exactly strike me as a threat. Trying a Fergburger is must, assuming you’re prepared to wait in the line, and best save room for dessert because their bakery next door has the best hot cocoa in the world. I wish there was more, but even if my draft hadn't been deleted, quite honestly at this point I was tired, sick, and ready to make my way home.

New Zealand is a place I will definitely come back to, preferably when  I have more time. Boy did I underestimate the size of this country. I’d like to spend more time on the North island and get the local experience courtesy of my dear friends Emma and Ish. Met those two love birds in Guatemala and was seriously so dissapointed we were unable to meet up. Speaking of love, it was around this time I began to question my rushing through the end of this trip. Well I guess I had always questioned the decision, but this was the first time I was really doubting it. Xavier’s behavior had become suspicious, at best, and I suddenly found  myself questioning if I just sacrificed the 4th leg of this journey for the wrong man. People say go with your gut. Those same people say you won’t call it quits until you’re good and ready. Well I guess I wasn’t ready. I mean we had made it this far, or had we? If I could just make it to New York, I had hope our love would survive.

Pit stop, China. Beijing to be exact, well The Great Wall to be even more exact. There was no way I was spending over a year of my life and six figures on a trip that didn’t include the last and final World Wonder. A wonder it was and far more vast than can ever be described with words. The English language really is limiting, not that I would actually know how vast any other language is… (see earlier references regarding to my ineptitude with language). The coolest part of The Wall, other than the obvious, was luging back down. While I had gone luging in Queenstown, this was different. It was legit. Like something straight out of Cool Runnings. Such a rush and despite the little Chinese men yelling at me to slow down, I did not. Given I hadn’t died yet (and I can recall multiple times I was sure I had reached my end) I highly doubted I was going to die on this mountain. Hill? What qualifies a mountain as a mountain vs a hill? Anyway, seeing for myself how effective a wall like this can be, now makes me wonder if Donald Trump (sorry President Trump as he has since been elected) is really that crazy for suggesting an effective wall can be built between the U.S. and Mexico. Not stating my position on the wall or his election, but just saying, wouldn’t be the first time a massive wall was seen as a solution.

I thought I could bang this out with one more entry, but looks like China, to NYC, and back to Mexico (promised to finish this journey where it started) will need to follow in one finale of an entry. I will say I’ve been home now for almost 1 year. I took my business back and couldn’t be happier with the direction it’s heading. I’ve managed to maintain my chi, or this new level I’m vibrating on, and while everything around me is basically the same, I’m different, which makes everything around me different. I keep waiting for it to wear off, to fallback, or for me to lose sight of everything I’ve learned. My conclusion,  the lessons that come with a trip around the world are lessons that cannot be unlearned, forgotten, or destroyed.  Priorities realigned, my purpose redefined, and most importantly my core, my self, who I am when this material world fades, is in tact and improved in such a way that I can only hope and pray my light is brighter and my impact on this world is now greater.