#becomes......... desperate for a change. maybe. just a little tiny inevitable change. as a treat.

[anxiousapplepie]

I'm sure this has only happened to Housemaiden!Isabeau's crew at least twice. Maybe more, if only because someone forgot to ask what mysterious meat Siffrin decided to add to a stew or potluck.

bonus sketch because I had to. Confused and judgemental Researcher!Bonnie noises give me much amusement.

[bella-caecilia]

Hey, so your latest edition to the settee chronicles made me need a fanfic from it 😂 so please may I request Violet sitting down on a settee only for it to mysteriously break and Cobert barely being able to contain a smile thank you xxxx love your stories so much 💕💕

Haha, so this refers to this post (x) and I finally wrote a fanfic about it. It is set somewhere s1-ish or slightly pre-series, idk. Thank you for the prompt, anon! I hope you enjoy it!! 

Revenge on Mama

The Dowager Countess was coming for tea and the family gathered in the drawing room. One by one they descended the large stairs. Cora was glad that everyone was present before her mother-in-law arrived. It was best to offer as little target as possible. The girls were already seated and engaged in light bickering. Mary leaned back on an armchair, rolling her eyes at Edith who told Sybil about some tragic novel she had read lately. Cora’s strict raise of her eyebrow made Mary rise from her lounging position and take on a straight posture. Robert and she were standing near the fireplace, talking in soft voices. Carson already advised the footmen to arrange the tea service on one of the tables. He left the room, no doubt to return with the Dowager Countess only minutes later. Cora used the opportunity of a moment without anyone’s attention on the two of them to whisper something to Robert.

“I enjoyed our encounter earlier. A lot, if I daresay,” she spoke in a hushed tone and leaned to him slightly. Robert’s eyes inevitably snapped to the vacant settee next to the armchair Mary sat in. He coughed quietly and didn’t dare to look at his wife’s face. He knew the badly suppressed smirk that definitely showed on it.

“Yes, so I gathered,” he replied wishing he’d have a drink at hand. He liked that kind of banter, but he couldn’t deal with it outside of their bedroom. Perhaps he should have kept the referred activities in the bedroom, therefore. But Cora had been very tempting and convincing today. He just couldn’t help himself against better knowledge.

It had been a highly risky undertaking but Cora had assured him, heavily breathing between fervent kisses, that it was unlikely for someone to enter the drawing room at this time of the day. The girls had been occupied and as long as Robert and she wouldn’t ring no servant would appear. Much more than her words, that came out in a staccato, it had been her wandering hands that had convinced him. The way her slender fingers found a way to his bare skin at his waist without undressing him completely had made it very hard to think clearly. Her fingers had crept underneath the waistband of his trousers, loosening an edge of his shirt and tracing the slit of exposed skin. The soft coolness of her fingertips had sent a shiver down his spine, and he had let go of the control over himself he’d desperately tried to hold on to until then. He had changed their positions, pressing her back with gentle firmness, until her back had hit the armrest of the settee they had reclined upon. The rest was history. Thrilling history.

The risks Robert hadn't calculated earlier the day, though, were Cora's cheeky comments on the incident. If she would keep talking about this it would be hard to stay calm and casual, and additionally, it would make his thoughts wander until the presence of other people in this room would become highly uncomfortable.

"I am glad we did it," Cora whispered and for a moment Robert forgot his intention to keep his eyes away from her. He turned his face to her and noticed the happy gleam in her blue eyes. "I was afraid you wouldn't approve of the audacity of this undertaking," she admitted. Now her pearly teeth sank into the plump flesh of her lower lip, and Robert tore his eyes from her as he had to gulp.

"It was rather daring," he spoke, his tone unaffected. "But you didn't really think I would reject you after your seducing arguments, did you?" He didn't hear an answer and turned to her again, taking in the pretty blush that was answer enough.

"The Dowager Countess," Carson's voice boomed into the room, much louder than Robert's and Cora's hushed conversation and interrupting the girls' bickering. The inserting silence was giving full attention to the confident and well-known click of the cane. With head held high, Violet strutted into the drawing room, directly approaching a seating with determination.

Even though, the old lady's eyes were fixating a point on the wallpaper they seemed to take in everything that was amiss instantly.

"Sybil! Knees together," she chided before lowering herself onto the settee next to Mary. Cora held her eyes locked on her mother-in-law as she sought a seat herself.

"Cora, I regret having to tell you this," Violet went on and Cora was sure Mama wasn't sorry at the least. "But Sybil is at an age where I shouldn't have to point out the proper behaviour for a young lady anymore. I can only assume it is a result of negligent breeding since Sybil is a rather good-natured girl." Mama cocked her head, sending Cora an inquiring look.

Did she really expect a response to this?

Cora briefly watched Sybil who had adopted the demanded posture immediately and directed her gaze at her lap now, uncomfortable with the chiding of both, herself and her mother. Cora was particularly irked by Mama's statement today because there hadn't been much wrong with Sybil's pose. Yes, she could have sat more sideways automatically locking her knees with that, but her behaviour hadn't been improper or common. Mama's reprimand was wilful and only serving the cause to degrade Cora in her aptitude as Countess and mother, or more fundamentally as a proper English lady herself.

The momentary irritation with Mama served to distract her attention from what she had actually noticed seconds before. But when Mama shifted in her seat slightly Cora remembered. Mama had sat down on the settee, which had witnessed other activities - much more improper than what she was rebuking - hours before. It hadn't been slow and gentle lovemaking on this settee. No, Robert had taken her impatiently and frantically, and Cora had already known, when her legs had clutched his hips, that a new sofa was due soon.

And now Violet sat on that particular settee, not finding a comfortable position and constantly shuffling in her seat. Cora didn't answer Mama's jabs and only smiled to herself when Carson handed her a cup of tea. She didn't dare to seek Robert's eye contact across the room. She had sensed how he had approached the tea service when Mama had entered the room, certainly still affected by their conversation that had been interrupted.

Mama had to be in a foul mood today and she seemed to stop at nothing, now muttering something depreciating to Thomas who served her tea. Cora stirred her cup while she considered if she should recommend another seat to Mama. She looked up and found Robert sipping his tea as he stood behind Mama. His gaze, which had been directed away from her, now met hers.

Violet was about to say something but changed her position a little to the left first while adjusting the pillow behind her back. Cora gulped and sought Robert's eyes again. His face was displaying an expression of rising panic as he saw the movements his mother made. Cora couldn't hold back an inward chuckle at his overcharged demeanour. She directed her gaze into the amber liquid and she tried to fully concentrate on her spoon's stirring when Mama finally made the statement that had been sitting on the tip of her tongue.

"Cora dear, your blatant disinterest in your daughter's well future really is indecent," Violet snapped. All heads turned to the Dowager. No one had expected this afternoon to escalate so quickly.

"Mama!" Robert interjected, his expression one of disbelief. He opened his mouth again to defend his wife but Cora lifted her hand in appeasement. Her gesture was discreet but Robert got the hint. He turned away with a huff, bringing the cup of tea to his lips. Once again, he wished for a real drink.

The servants had recovered faster than Robert and were already scurrying around again, refilling the girls' cups who had downed their teas to escape the loaded conversation of their mother and grandmother.

"I am sorry if that is what you are convinced of, but I am committed to all my daughters' futures and I am positive Sybil will do very well as the lady she gets to be," Cora eventually phrased her answer to Mama and gave her a small smile. Her tone was sweet and nothing hinted to the tiniest resentment. Robert turned back around slightly puzzled by the amiability in Cora's voice. How did she manage to stay so calm? But then he spotted a tiny glint in her eyes as she watched Mama turning in her seat once again with a displeased huff.

Cora knew, sure enough, Mama would get her just deserts, so she had decided against a unsettling answer in front of everyone. Mama and she had their extensive conversations without fault when they met for tea just the two of them every week. But that wasn't what she had in mind at the moment.

Robert suspected what Cora was aiming for. He could already hear the dangerous creak of the harassed settee leg. But maybe he just particularly pricked up his ears because no one else seemed bothered. But just as he averted his attention there was a loud snap followed by a surprised shriek. Robert could see on Cora's face that his mother's expression must be priceless. He only saw her hunched form on the lowered corner of the settee. The sound she had emitted was one completely unknown to him. Never had his mother uttered anything near to a shriek.

"Granny, are you alright?" Sybil inquired instantly. And Carson moved swiftly to help the Dowager up and to another, hopefully, safer seat.

"Yes, yes," Violet muttered, brushing her hands over the vast material of her skirts to distract her attention from the bewildering incident. "But it seems not only manners are treated negligently here nowadays. Robert, you should definitely have a closer look at the appropriateness of your furniture."

At this, Robert shot a look at Cora who had her lips pressed together tightly and Robert had to close his eyes for a moment to keep his composure.

"I totally agree, Mama. I will renew some of our furniture. And I am sorry for the discomfort you had to endure."

The conversation finally found another topic when Mary decided to involve her grandmother in a discussion about the impending wedding of a distant cousin Violet was about to attend. Robert was grateful for the easing of tension in the room and he saw at the relaxation of Cora's shoulders when asked Edith's about the novel she had mentioned earlier, that she was also happy about the détente of the situation.

When they left the drawing room afterwards, Robert leaned down a little to Cora's ear so that she was the only one to hear his words. "That came as a well-planned revenge, my dear."

"Oh, I wouldn't have managed without you." She grinned up at him. Robert somehow had expected a light blush at his statement and not the nonchalant coquetry she performed and that showed on her features. He was once again dazzled by his wife's astute adaptability to every situation.

[lov3nerdstuff]

Someone to you

*Loki x reader*

Part: Oneshot

Words: 5.6k

Warnings: little language, some gloomy thoughts

Summary: Loki knew that feeling deep within him, and he tried to suffocate the first kindling before it would become a raging fire, burning up his very being to the essence yet again. What Loki felt indeed, was hope. A stupid and desperate hope that maybe just this once he could actually be somebody to someone, something more than just the villain, the lesser brother, the monster… that he could be someone, to you.

A story written in Loki's perspective about how he learned that even he deserves kindness and love. Your love.

Original Request: Hi! Do you make song based requests? If you do I'd love a oneshot of Loki x Reader based on the song Someone to you by Banners. Thank you if you can ♡ -> by @hunter-with-a-tardis

A.N.: Okay folks, this has gotten a little dark, but I promise it has a fluffy ending indeed! It doesn't really fit the song based on the melody, but I focused on the lyrics! 💚✨ Enjoy!

______________________________

For the longest time, Loki had felt lost in this world. In every world. Lost and alone, broken, abused and shattered in so many ways that he'd given up any attempt to hold grudges against individuals, and at one point simply started to feel hate for everyone and everything. Yet he knew very well that hate wasn't the right word for what he felt, but it was easier to title it hate and delve into that feeling than admit, even to himself, what it really was indeed that was keeping him up at night and made him burst with a raging, dark energy at daytime.

To Loki, self-awareness was his ultimate doom, his one true mean to selfdestruction. He knew what he felt, he knew what had caused it and what it meant and yet… he couldn't change a single thing about it. Sometimes he wished he was as oblivious in his emotions as the midgardians he spent his time with, but that just wasn't how his mind worked. No, his mind picked up every pebble and inspected it to the depth of a single atom, twice.

And he'd lived in this illusion of universal hate for so long that it had become his reality, a shallow one, but it was still enough to dictate his behavior and sometimes, if he wasn't careful, also his thoughts. He felt himself slipping into living within yet another lie, one brilliant enough, carefully enough woven to suffice. It was his own, after all. As long as no one would be able to see through his facade, there was nothing, no one, worth dropping it for in return.

So Loki found himself living among his brother's friends, the people who despised him without ever having bothered to get to know him. But really… him trying to take over their planet all those years ago, to them, must've seemed like a good enough getting-to-know each other.

Loki didn't really bother to tell them the truth, for things were easy enough while they hated him and believed he hated them in return. And honestly, by now, he kind of did sincerely hate them. He hadn't in the beginning, but their coldness and constant rejection had forced Loki to withdraw further and further into his own mind. A very dangerous place to dwell in indeed and yet the only place he felt truly safe (at times).

The days passed away like leaves in autumn, withering and tumbling down into the abyss of indifference. And autumn it was indeed when something happened that made Loki's carefully constructed reality come crashing down on him like a building's collapse. It was the day he met you.

Honestly, it had been a day exactly like every other. He'd picked a book from the library, then sat down in the floor length window in the living room and ignored everyone and everything around him as he escaped into the world between the pages, right into the rough paper resting against his fingertips.

That was until Stark, that tin of a fool, came sauntering into the room and inevitably drew everyone's attention towards himself. Why exactly Loki chose this one instance to actually listen to the man of iron was beyond him, but he put his book down in his lap and looked over to the two figures standing in the middle of the room.

"Alright everyone, this is Y/n." Tony announced loudly, clapping you on the shoulder. Loki's eyes met yours and you… smiled.

He frowned immediately, deeply irritated, and looked back to the book in his lap. His ears however didn't once leave the announcement of your presence.

"She is… well, why don't you explain it yourself?" Stark asked and took a step to the side, giving you room to introduce yourself.

"Well, hi everyone. I'm Y/n, like Tony said already…" Your voice was soft, like liquid silk that ran straight from Loki's ears to his mind, wrapping around his senses in a way he couldn't really prevent. "Before anyone starts guessing, I'm not an Avenger, or even remotely trained in combat or the sorts. I'm…"

"...going to live here, for a while." Tony finished the sentence before you could, making Loki frown to himself once again. "She's going to be living with us. So please treat her nicely, and look out for her a little. No funny business. I'm looking at you, Reindeer Games…"

Loki ignored the comment, just like he always did, but he felt your eyes on himself like a scorching heat burning his entire left side.

"Alright, I gotta go, but everyone please introduce yourselves now and the sorts… And Cap, will you show her to her room later? The guest bedroom on the third floor will do." Tony ordered quickly, then addressed you once more. "Y/n, dear… I know for a fact that you'll be fine with those guys here, but you better stay away from the odd one over there."

Loki just knew immediately that Stark had meant him, causing him to roll his eyes to himself. Obviously he wouldn't at least this once be given the chance to start off on the right foot with someone. No, they were all rushed into prejudice before he even got any chance to make things right. At least this once.

And oddly enough, Loki wanted to make things right with you. Maybe only because you were new indeed, a blank piece of paper for him, but then again… you had smiled at him. Just for a very short moment, and without any intention to mock him. Just a sincere, innocent smile. Maybe you simply didn't know who he was and what he'd done? And yet… he couldn't forget about that one smile, even if he tried.

For the next minutes Loki quietly observed how everyone currently present introduced themselves to you, his eyes following you through the room as you moved from Natasha to Thor to Wanda… Smiling at everyone and exchanging meaningless smalltalk. Gosh, how Loki hated smalltalk, or anything that was meaningless really. They asked you about all the most ridiculous things, while Loki himself would have wasted no time to ask the really important things. For example, why Stark had interrupted you in your attempt to explain who you are or where you are from. What had brought you here despite being of no obvious use to the stupid little team? Questions upon questions that he could've asked, but he didn't, for the solemn reason that this was not the right place nor time. He looked back at his book, trying to read the words that threatened to escape his mind the second they entered it. Hell, why wouldn't his damn mind just leave you and the stupid idea that at least one person in this freaking building might actually grow not to hate him alone for good? He couldn't focus, and his ears picked up every word of your conversations with the others. It really wasn't even interesting, but something within him seemed to cling onto you so desperately that he grew more and more angry with himself by the minute.

He didn't even know you, for heaven's sake, then why did it feel like your appearance was the single ray of light breaking through the cold sky, filled with heavy clouds of dark? A single ray of light, keeping him from fading, from disappearing from reality altogether. A ray of light drawing him in like a moth to the flame. Like Icarus and the sun.

To be honest, Loki knew why. He knew that feeling deep within him, and he tried to suffocate the first kindling before it would become a raging fire, burning up his very being to the essence yet again. It was exactly this feeling that he'd tried to drown out with the cold hate all along. Why he'd tried to push reality as far away as possible, for he knew what would become of him. He couldn't help it, couldn't extinct the tiny flame that had so suddenly flickered to life upon your one damn smile. What Loki felt indeed, was hope.

A stupid and desperate hope that maybe just this once he could actually be somebody to someone, something more than just the villain, the lesser brother, the monster… that he could be someone, to you. But he didn't want this hope, for hope was a one way road to disappointment and pain.

And until this very day, Loki had done a great job to extinguish every bit of hope from his very being and drown it in hatred and mockery.

"Hey…" Your voice, very close suddenly, made him snap out of his mind and back to reality, only to find you standing right next to him, towering above his sitting form. He didn't dare looking up from his book.

"Since everyone else seems to avoid you as good as possible, I just wanted to say hi, at least."

"Didn't anyone tell you to stay as far away from me as possible?" Loki asked defensively and without his eyes parting from the page he'd tried reading for the last thirty minutes.

"Oh, they most certainly did. All of them, actually." You replied calmly, not at all bothered by his admittedly hostile attitude. Geez, Loki didn't know for himself why he was behaving so hostile towards you when all he really wanted was to make you like him. Maybe it's just who he was now, the cruel empty shell of a broken man.

"And why didn't you listen to them?" He asked, inhaling a little more audibly than he would've liked.

"Because the things they said didn't make sense… that you're dangerous, insane, cruel… not worth my time and effort." You mused, shrugging, and there was a tone to your voice that made Loki's heart pick up speed.

"You are not making sense, mortal." He snapped, cringing inwardly at his own behavior as his mind begged him to stop this ridiculous hostility.

"I'm…" You stopped for a moment and Loki almost believed he had finally broken you, finally made you see how horrible of a person he really was. Yet, you continued in a tone as calm as ever. "Would you be so kind and show me to my new bedroom?"

"Why would I? So that your new friends can mock me and have a decent excuse to end me for coming too close to their newest plaything?" He snorted sarcastically, closing his book with a loud pang and rising to his feet in his usual graceful manner, finally towering over you as he knew he was standing too close to you for his own good. But if being mean didn't work to scare you away, maybe intimidation would.

"Why would I do such a thing indeed, mortal?" He asked again, his voice dropping down to a dangerous and quiet low that spoke of nothing but disgust. It couldn't have been further from the truth, he felt drawn to you beyond measure.

"Because I would like you to know where you can find me when you need a break from torturing yourself like this." You replied calmly, yet so quietly that only Loki could hear, looking right into his eyes and he felt his blood freeze over for a moment. He stared right back at you in a maddening mixture of shock and awe, unsure if his physical presence continued to exist once his mind swallowed him into the depth of abysmal nothing.

"Loki!" Thor's thundering voice however ripped Loki from those depths, as he was forced a few steps away from you. Loki let Thor pull him away without a shred of resistance, eyes still irreversibly fixed on yours as he only heard the echo of his own heartbeat hollowly drumming in his ears.

How could this creature that was you have such an enormous effect on him? Mess with his mind even, trick the trickster indeed.

"Y/n, did he… hurt you, or try to?" Steve asked then, and his words reached Loki's ears, but not his mind.

"Why would he?" You replied calmly, turning to the soldier with a friendly smile. "We were just talking."

"Looked more like he wanted to murder you in the most gruesome ways…" Bruce commented carefully, giving Loki a suspicious look.

"Maybe, who knows…" You shrugged at them, smiling, as you turned back to Loki. The look on your face told him that you knew indeed. You knew that he wouldn't ever hurt you, nor anyone else if it could be prevented.

When Loki forcefully jerked his arm out of Thor's grip and made for the door with quick and long steps, all he was really asking himself was just WHY you knew.

_______________

For the next few days Loki stayed out of your way. Whenever you would enter the room, he would turn to leave in return and thereby cause his heart to clench in the most painful ways. And every single time he asked himself why exactly he was doing all that… all the pretense, all the hostility and all the false hatred. You'd not once given him any reason to dislike you, you always said hi to him (being the only one who even acknowledged his presence most of the time) and tried to talk to him a few times even. But there had always been someone in the room with you, someone's watchful eyes on him as you spoke and that always had resulted in him pulling back from you, more and more until he didn't talk to you at all anymore.

And for once, he experienced what real hatred felt like, in the hatred he found for himself and his behavior towards you. It wasn't your fault after all that he fought a war within himself that he was very close to losing on either end. Fighting off the darkness was routine, really, and he'd grown used to that constant fight long ago. Yet, now that he was fighting off the hope on the other end, he was at risk of losing on both sides. If he only could stop this nonsensical behavior at once, and maybe give you a tiny shard of his real self, maybe then he wouldn't feel so torn anymore. He wanted to be closer to you, to get to know you… who you are, why you were here, why you seemed to be able to see right through him and still didn't try to save him from his misery. Because, if he was honest with himself, he was desperately hoping that you would save him indeed. That you would lead him through his own darkness and guide him to a better place. And he was hoping that he could be someone better for you, since he failed to be better just for himself. And that, exactly that was what scared him. He didn't want to use you as a path to the light, he wanted you to be the light, for him.

This war within him continued on for weeks, but he had let go of the hostility immediately after one evening's events. He'd been somewhat sarcastic and mean as usual, ignored everyone at dinner really, until one thing he had said in particular had made your face fall and for the first time, Loki had seen sincere sadness and hurt in your eyes. He'd gotten up and left immediately, silently promising to make sure that he would NEVER be the cause of those emotions again. After that day, things had been different for him. He'd still stay away from you, but he never once had said a single hostile word to you again. He had been just the same old to everyone else of course, but with you… he'd become reluctant, almost. The hope within his mind had grown into a flame almost painful in its fury, urging him to give in. Ironically, the one thing that worked best against the hope was reality for now. He'd spent a few weeks locked up in his room to sort through his own messed up emotions, then spent a few more being mean to you, then a few more being basically a mere shadow on the wall. Always there, always listening but never noticed until someone needed something to be scared of.

He couldn't sleep at night. His mind would torture him with countless possibilities for how things could become even worse from where he was, while his logic would try to draw up a plan on how to make things right. He absolutely hated that with the hope, also the deeply rooted desire to be loved had resurfaced and clung onto the hope in return, making him ache for your attention and your approval. Such a horrendous desire, really… he'd spent centuries getting rid of it. And now it was suddenly back, hitting him like a hulk smash.

Unable to even remotely find rest, he got out of bed and left his room to head to the living room where he'd left his current read in the afternoon. It was three am in the morning, he didn't even bother to change into something other than his tracksuit bottoms and t-shirt for he was certain that he wouldn't run into anyone anyway. The sound of his naked feet on the cold stone floor reminded him just how much of a prison this place really was. An big and empty one, but a prison nonetheless.

When he walked around one final corner before entering the living room, he immediately spotted your small frame, dark contrasting against the giant window. Maybe you'd heard him approaching, but he didn't know for sure and he wanted to leave it at that. So he kept standing on the other side of the room, observing you as you observed the millions of bright stars in the night sky. That maybe was the only good thing about the avengers base being out here… one could see a million of stars every night, if only the clouds allowed it.

For the longest time Loki observed you in silence, his heart beating strongly against his ribcage in an almost painful manner. Until finally he gave in, unable to resist the raging hope any longer. With a second of careful thought and a few rays of soft green light, he recreated the entire night sky in the living room, surrounding you in a bright bunch of a million stars. The small gasp that escaped your lips brought a smile to his face, a moment before he turned to leave, not without granting himself two seconds of admiring your beautifully overwhelmed expression.

It wasn't that he didn't want to talk to you when he returned to his room with quick steps, his book long forgotten. No, he would've loved to talk to you, but he simply did not know what to say after all this time of severely screwing things up with you.

You'd been nothing but nice to him from the very first moment and he'd been nothing but poison to your lovely being. A fool, scared and lashing out in fear of getting hurt. Ironic, really, considering that he'd been well aware of this the entire time, yet again unable to change his own behavior. And now that he'd finally gotten over himself, he was more than sure that he'd already managed to drive you so far away from himself that it was past any point of return.

So he just lay on his bed, on top of the neatly folded green covers, and stared at the ceiling in the dark. Until a few minutes later there was a faint knock on his door.

He knew that it must be you, nobody else would ever knock on his door and nobody else would be awake at this time, but him. He had the door swing open gently without as much as moving a finger.

"May I come in?" You asked quietly, standing in the door frame as your eyes inspected his room quickly, yet intently. He almost smiled at your curiosity, the urge to study your surroundings… it's something he found himself inclined to do as well.

This was his last chance, and he was done pretending, done trying to keep you at a distance.

"Yes." Was all he could really say, in as much calm as he could manage. His eyes were still fixed on the ceiling as he heard your soft footsteps approaching him slowly. Would you hear his frantic heartbeat in the insufferable silence of the room?

Then he felt the bed dip ever so slightly as you moved to lay down next to him, at a safe distance, but he could feel the heat of your body on his side nonetheless. It felt nice.

"Would you do it again? For me?" You asked calmly, yet again in a quiet voice as you stared up at the ceiling as well. With the smallest of smiles Loki brought the stars back from the sky into his room, filling the entire space with a soft light in form of a million little sprinkles. You let out a soft sigh, and Loki's smile widened. Maybe you didn't completely hate him after all.

"This is really beautiful, you know…" You said after a few minutes of comfortable silence. "Have you seen the entire universe?"

"Not only this one… there's more, so much more." Loki replied easily, and he felt more at ease than he had in as long he cared to remember.

"Amazing... I can't imagine what it must be like to see all those incredible places!" You sighed.

"Would you like to see some of it?" He asked before he could stop himself, his voice laced with the hope he didn't care to repress anymore.

Now, finally, he felt confident enough to turn his head to look at you, finding you looking at him already with a soft smile. And just like the first day you had met, Loki felt your eyes forcing their way into his soul, touching it with a gentle caress and leaving imprints wherever they went. What surprised him most however was that he let you in, without timidity.

"I'd love to. See some of it, I mean…" You smiled at him with that heart-warming, all-consuming smile of yours and Loki couldn't help but stare. Here you were, merely two feet away, lying on his bed and smiling at him as if he wasn't… this. Wasn't himself. He wanted to ask you about your reasons, but he didn't know how. For once in his life, his eloquence was lost on him. And thus he did what he knew he could do best, turning his head back towards the ceiling and moving the stars around the two of you, going from planet to planet while both showing and explaining to you which secrets each place held in its depth and uniqueness.

You listened intently to him, nodding, giving soft noises of approval or occasionally asking questions about the things he said. Loki found himself relaxing in the conversation, smiling more frequently and looking at you from time to time, observing your beautiful features while you admired the imagines of distant places he conjured up just for you. And sooner than he would've liked, Loki found himself wishing that he could show you the universe for real.

Time flew by like the stars you passed on your magical journey, and soon night turned into dawn. By morning, Loki had spent more time looking at you than looking at the stars, really, and he found the urge to be close to you growing into the insufferable, while you seemed completely enamored with his tales of distant places and times. He would've talked on forever if only to make you happy, to bring this light to your eyes and dwell in the comfort of your presence. But after the sun started to rise, you decided that you would have to leave to get at least some more rest. Obviously Loki didn't make an attempted to stop you, but wished you a good night (even if it was morning indeed).

During the following days, Loki was back to his usual self (with everyone but you, of course), placing some carefully worded threats and intricate insults into the conversations he was systematically excluded from. Only when nighttime rolled around, he would be in his room, waiting, until you would come to hear more stories, or to chat about all the most meaningful things, but not once about anything personal. He enjoyed this new ritual immensely, allowing himself to be raw, honest, true… during the day he may belong to his demons, but during the nighttime he belonged to you. And even though he would've loved to be more than just a storyteller, a means to passing time to you, he was still content to be something to you, at least. But with every night you spent lying next to him on his bed, listening and looking at him like he himself was the single most fascinating thing in the entirety of the universe, Loki found himself wishing for more.

You were truly lovely, the kindest and smartest person he'd ever met and he constantly asked himself why by the gods you were spending your precious time with him. Eventually, he figured, he would run out of stories to tell and you would stop your nightly visits, his own personal time spent in the light.

But he wouldn't let that happen, or rather he simply couldn't. If this one last time he allowed himself to hope, to try to be somebody to someone, turned out to leave him hurt again, he knew he would lose his fight against the darkness, and thus lose his final threat anchoring him to reality.

That is why tonight Loki decided that he would visit you for once, in your room. He'd never been there before, you had always come to see him in his own space. It was still a little while until you usually would be coming over when he made his way through the dark hallway, up the staircase and towards your door.

Just when he lifted his hand to knock, the door was opened in an instant and you almost ran into him as you moved out of the room. Loki's eyes widened as he looked down at you in surprise, but a moment later he couldn't resist peaking into the room behind you (he was, after all, of an impeccably curious nature).

"Hey Loki..." You looked up at him in that adorably flustered expression. "I was just going to come see you, actually."

"Hello Y/n…" He replied calmly, giving you a small smile. "I… I wanted to visit YOU, for once."

"Oh…" You smiled to yourself, looking down to your bare feet for a second. "Well, do come in then!"

You moved out of the way, backing into your room and Loki followed with careful steps behind you, looking around himself. Your room way probably double the size of his own, with an open window front and the lovelies furniture. And it was only a guest bedroom, after all.

"What made you come here tonight?" You asked, studying his face intently as you leaned your head slightly to the side.

Loki took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second, fighting off his pride. Why was it so hard to just tell you how he felt?! Maybe because all he'd really done for the past few decades was keeping his feelings to himself, if he admitted to having them in the first place. He just wasn't any good at being honest in a nice way anymore. Is that something one could unlearn?

"I'm here because… because you told me to find you here when I needed a break from torturing myself." He finally said in a faintly shaky voice, jaw clenching as he looked at you with everything he didn't know how to say.

"Sit down." You ordered gently and Loki did as he was told, eyes not once leaving yours as he sat down on the edge of your bed in silence. He would do absolutely anything you asked of him and he didn't feel the slightest bit ashamed of it.

"May I try something that might make you feel better?" You asked quietly and with the slightest hint of insecurity, and Loki only managed a nod in return. "Tell me if you want me to stop."

His eyes widened ever so slightly when you moved towards him, closer and closer, and he could feel his body tensing involuntarily. The closest he had gotten to people in a long while was the distance it took to stab them.

So when you very carefully sat down in his lap and wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close to you in the most innocent hug, Loki was lost. For a moment he forgot how to breathe, before a second later he wrapped his arms around you very gently at first, then tighter and tighter until you were pressed against his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, dwelling in the overwhelming sensation of being so very close to you. Of you allowing him to be so close.

"Why?" He finally managed to ask, not once letting go of you. He might quite possibly never let go of you again, if it that would've been for him to decide.

"Because I like you, Loki." You smiled, playing with the tips of his hair on his back, making him let out an unintentional sigh. "I have from the very first day."

"Why?" He asked again, almost pleading in his tone as he desperately tried to understand.

"Why not? You are absolutely amazing… intelligent, funny, kind…"

"Don't mock me, Y/n…" He breathed, fingers digging into the soft fabric of your shirt. "Even if you might not have known who I was when we met, I'm sure I have given you enough reason by now to believe that I am not a kind person."

"I knew exactly who you are when we met." You replied calmly, resting your head against the crook of his neck, which made Loki's heart flutter almost painfully.

"Then why did you smile at me? If you knew what I was all along… Why did you have to do that to me?"

"Because you deserve kindness, Loki, maybe more than anyone else." You whispered, tightening your grip on him.

"I don't." He replied in the same quiet voice, relishing the feeling of your arms around him, your warmth a comforting blanket and your scent as addicting as anything could be.

"You do. And you are kind indeed, despite your suffering."

"I don't suffer…" He gave back in a tone that didn't even convince himself of his statement.

"I see it in your eyes, you know… in your behavior. In the way you carry yourself. You have suffered more in your lifetime than anyone should even dare to think of." Your voice was so calming that Loki found himself relaxing more and more, deep breaths making his chest rise and fall in unison with yours.

"You deserve better than this, Y/n… I wanted to be someone to you so badly all along, and what did I do? I pushed you away for weeks and proved with every word that I am more monster than man by now." The words came freely from his mind to his lips at last, lifting some of the weight off his heart as he spoke.

"A monster doesn't hope, Loki… A monster doesn't try to be better for someone. A monster doesn't spend nights lying next to me, making the starlight circle the room while explain the mysteries of the universe to me." You lifted your head and pulled back only far enough to be able to look at him in the eye. "I see you, Loki... All of you. The past, the present and the future and I will have all of it."

"You can't possibly see the past, nor the future…" He breathed, staring at you in awe as it slowly dawned on him.

"I can see a great deal of things." You smiled kindly, moving your hands from his shoulders to his neck. "Time is but a mere comma in the story of eternity, really."

"Who are you?" His eyes were fixed on yours, inches away only as he realized that quite possibly the greatest mystery of the entire universe was sitting right in his lap.

"Yours, if you will have me." You replied with an almost flustered smile. "I want to be someone to you too."

"You are. And you were, all along." He returned the smile, honest and hopeful and adoring, watching your expression for a while before he dared to speak up again, in the new found courage of acceptance, maybe even love, that he had been missing over a thousand years. "Y/n… may I be yours?"

"You are. And you were all along."

Without wasting any more commas in the story of eternity, you leaned down, closing the final inches between Loki's lips and your own.

"I may be my rawest self for you to see, but I'm still going to be a nuisance for absolutely everyone else." Loki finally smiled against the soft skin of your neck, placing feathery kisses along your jawline a good while later.

"I expected absolutely nothing less." You replied with the very same smirk. "And I'm very much looking forward to all the mischief yet to come."

_____________________________

Tag List:

@its-remy-not-ratatouille @wegingerangelica @thidls12333 @tomstoobeautiful @dreary-skies-stuff @averyhill4445 @wiczer @lotus-eyedindiangoddess @theweirdlunatic @caretheunicorn @myworddump

If anyone would like to be added to my general tag list, feel free to tell me in the comments 😊💚💚✨✨ I hope you guys enjoyed this story and I tried really hard to do Loki justice, his perspective is really intriguing yet difficult to write ☺️ tell me what you think!

[songsoomin]

No More Dreams (A)

Word count: 3.5K

This is the story I wrote for the Ateez writing competition and I based some aspects on what I have seen in dramas/films and documentaries but this is just a fiction; I’m not trying to create a stereotype of what all people who are struggling financially go through - this is just what my character’s life is like.

If you are kind enough - or think this is good enough - to like and comment on for the competition I would be so grateful. The link is below and I used Veilduck VPN to get on the website.

Posted: 9th July 2020

http://ateez.kqent.com/bbs/board.php?bo_table=gevent&wr_id=3280

The familiar pain stabbed at Mingi's stomach again as he groaned and rolled over, trying to get some sleep. Hunger was something he was very used to by now but that didn't mean it got any easier with time. It still hurt just as much.

To say that Mingi was poor was an understatement, rather he survived each day not knowing if he would be as lucky the next. Today he'd had some cup noodles from a convenience store but that was it; he was out of money until he could get paid again but at least he had a roof over his head...for now.

Mingi's family had always been poor but it hadn't always been like this. He'd never known his father; all his mother ever said about him was that he ran off whilst she was pregnant so he grew up with just his mother. He still lived in the same semi-basement they always had done; really just a room with a partly enclosed toilet and shower room and a sort of kitchen set up - a sink and tiny fridge with a gas stove burner. The fridge was never really used as Mingi didn't have the luxury to buy fresh food to store; he just bought what he could afford each day so he didn't even keep it plugged in, not wanting to waste the electricity.

His mum got them by doing part-time work day to day; folding pizza boxes, handing out leaflets on the street, that type of thing and, although it didn't pay well they were okay. They couldn't afford lavish food and mostly survived on basic things but they were fed. Mingi went to school and worked as hard as he could hoping to make a better life for them both. He had dreams, he loved aeroplanes and imagined himself working in that field and one day buying a big house for his mum but those dreams ended when she died.

It hadn't escaped Mingi's knowledge that she struggled and that it took it's toll on her mentally and physically. He could see she wasn't well but never imagined the secret she was keeping from him. Cancer. She had found out about it but couldn't afford the treatment she needed. She kept it from him as long as possible so as not to cause him any pain. There was nothing that could be done so she struggled on - no need to burden him with the knowledge. Mingi never knew if this was the right decision or not; he couldn't blame his mum for wanting to spare him the pain that knowledge would bring but the shock of such a sudden decline was no easier in his mind.

His mum had worked herself to the bone to make as much money as possible for him but the cancer was progressing each day and once it spread to her liver she declined rapidly. Mingi would never forget the day he came home to find her obviously in pain and barely able to move. When you see someone everyday it it's easy to miss gradual changes but now he really looked at her he could see what she had become. She was thin and frail and no longer looked like the mother he knew.

"Mum, please let me take you to the hospital!"

"Mingi," his mother rasped out, "nothing can be done now...it's gone too far."

"Why didn't you tell me? We could've done something."

"The treatment is too expensive, Mingi." she reached her frail hand up to cup his face, "Even if we gave up everything, the money we'd save still wouldn't have been enough."

Mingi's mother stopped to catch her breath and he could see what a struggle it was for her.

"I had to try to make sure you'd be okay, I haven't got much money but you'll be fine for a little while."

Over the next few days Mingi watched as his mum faded away while he gave her water and tried to get her to eat. The last thing she had said to him was how proud she was of him and how much she loved him. As she slipped into unconsciousness he whispered,

"Mum, I love you. Please don't leave me."

but he knew this was the last moment they would share together.

He sat on the floor, next to her on their old couch, holding her hand until he fell asleep. When he woke the next morning, she was gone.

He didn't know what to do, who to call. They had no family except each other. He sat in their semi-basement next to her body for a couple of days just frozen with grief and shock until a teacher came by to see why he hadn't been to school. The door was unlocked so she carefully entered to find Mingi sitting against the wall next to the couch, legs bent and arms wrapped around his knees. His mother's lifeless body covered by a blanket. I t was clear hadn't eaten in days so Miss Kim went out to buy him some food while they waited for the police and ambulance to arrive.

They couldn't afford a funeral so his mother's body was taken and dealt with in whatever way they did when someone without money died. Mingi didn't ask what they'd do. Child services came round but he refused to go and, as he was 16, they didn't try to force him. The officer just left her card hoping he would go to them when he ran out of money and promising to check in every now and then. That was the last he saw of them, though.

Mingi realised then that no one really cares about the poor - they can't give them anything in return. He stopped going to school but his teachers never came looking for him, most likely courting the rich parents who could give the school money in return for good grades for their children. He had seen enough of those type of kids at school, never doing any work but passing alltheir classes, nonetheless. Everyone knew it was their parents bribing the school with expensive new books and equipment. Then once they graduate they'd get given a cushy job in their parents' company or with someone their parents know. They would never know what it was like to have a dream and have to work for it.

As far as social services went, Mingi didn't know if they didn't care or if they forgot about him. Maybe there were just too many other children in need. He was fine with that, though; the last thing he wanted was to be placed with some strangers or in an orphanage. He'd rather just be left alone.

Over the next couple of years Mingi barely survived. He picked up some of the jobs his mum had been doing but during the time she had been ill they had found other people to do it and now weren't convinced enough to give work to a teenager on his own. A few had taken pity on him and still sent work but it was sporadic. After he managed to pay the rent and bills he wasn't always left with enough for food. There was certainly no money left to follow his dreams and improve his life. Dreams were too lavish for someone as poor as he was.

As things in the house got worn or broken, he couldn't afford to replace them so he lived with what he had. His thin matress on the floor was old and uncomfortable now and the blankets had holes in them but he did the best he could, layering them in the winter when it was cold and he couldn't afford heating. It was hard to control the damp in the winter, as well. Without heating to dry out the walls, it kept spreading and opening the tiny window to air it out just made it colder so he tried his best to clean the black mould off the walls before it inevitably returned.

Of course, there were always ways to get money but Mingi couldn't bring himself to do them. He had too much pride to beg and too many morals to steal. That didn't stop the gangs from targeting him, though. He lived in a rather shady part of town and the gangs preyed on people in desperate situations so they kept trying to convince him to work for them - running drugs, that kind of thing - but Mingi wasn't a criminal. He wasn't like them and they got angry when he continually refused and often tried a more 'physical' way of convincing him. It was after one of their beatings, as he stumbled back towards his home, that he felt a hand reach out to him,

"Are you okay?" The voice sounded familiar but he couldn't place it.

"I'm fine." Mingi choked out, trying to pull away from the strangers hand that was holding his arm.

"You don't look fine, you look - Mingi? Is that you?"

Mingi looked to the good samaritan and was surprised to see his childhood best friend staring back at him with an equal measure of shock.

"Mingi! What happened? You disappeared and I never saw you again."

"Jongho?"

"Let me get you home, Min; you're a mess. Where do you live?"

Mingi directed Jongho to his semi-basement and let him help him in and down onto his couch. As Jongho looked around, Mingi couldn't help but feel embarrassed. This was exactly why he had never invited his friend back when they were at school together. He was always so grateful to his mum for how hard she worked to keep them fed and housed but he was still a teenager and didn't want Jongho to see all the pizza boxes and flyers that were a permanent fixture in their home.

"I tried to find you but I never knew where you lived. I wanted to reach out when I heard about your mum but I was too young, I didn't know how to find you." Jongho said with sympathy in his brown eyes.

"I'm sorry." Mingi said in his quiet, deep voice. "Things just...got bad, I guess."

With nothing in Mingi's home to treat his cuts, Jongho told him to wait while he ran to the store for supplies. He came back with food, as well. He didn't want Mingi to feel like he was pitying him but he couldn't ignore how thin he was and how there seemed to be no food in the house.

He put some ramen on and set about tending to his friend's wounds.

"I don't mean to interfere but you don't look like you've been eating well."

"It's fine." Mingi sighed; there was no point being prideful in front of Jongho when he could clearly see he was starving. "You look great, though."

Jongho laughed, "Well, you used to be my bodyguard, remember? You always protected me from the bullies. When you stopped coming to school I had to start defending myself so I began working out. After a while they stopped messing with me."

Jongho made sure Mingi ate and promised to come back again tomorrow. He'd found his lost friend now and he'd missed him so much there was no way he was letting him go again.

The next day Jongho returned as promised. It had been so long since Mingi had had someone to talk to like this, he was quite awkward but Jongho kept the conversation flowing.

"I told my mum I found you."

"I remember your mum, she was always nice." Mingi replied, remembering the times he spent at Jongho's after school.

"She wants you to come over for dinner - says she missed your smile."

"I don't think she'll be seeing much of that." Mingi mumbled, more to himself.

"You'll come, though, right?"

He couldn't refuse Jongho when he looked so hopeful; just as he remembered him.

"Yeah, I'll come."

"Great. Let's go!"

Jongho's family weren't well off but, to Mingi, their house was amazing. Bright and spacious, and so many rooms. It was familiar to him but he'd forgotten quite how nice it was over the years.

"Mingi, sweetheart!" Jongho's mum was such a warm person, enveloping him in a hug as soon as he was in the door. "I've missed you."

Mingi flushed with embarrassment, aware of his disheveled appearance, worn clothes, the bruises on his face and cut on his lip from yesterday's run in.

"It's nice to see you again, Mrs Choi." Mingi said , bowing politely.

"Come and sit down, dear. Tell me how you are."

Mingi sat on the couch chatting with Jongho and his mum but he was sketchy with the details of his life - he really didn't want to be pitied.

What he didn't know was that Mrs Choi could see it all anyway; his emaciated appearance, the way his eyes looked in awe at all the food - even though it was just a modest meal. His clothes were worn and tatty, and his hair looked like he'd been cutting it himself. Mostly she could see he just wasn't the Mingi she remembered Jongho bringing home after school. This Mingi was worn down and defeated. His big, bright smile was gone and it pained her to see him like that.

"Jongho...you didn't tell me it was this bad!" Mrs Choi loudly whispered to her son in the kitchen.

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, come on, Jongho...look at him. How long has it been since he ate any real food? He's clearly malnourished. He's even been assaulted - what has happened to him?"

Jongho leaned round the doorframe to take a closer look at Mingi; he had obviously noticed he was thin and can't have been eating much but he hadn't really taken in just how bad Mingi looked.

"What do we do?" He asked his mother who had tears in her eyes at seeing the once happy boy in this desperate state.

"I don't know...but I can't watch him suffer like this." Mrs Choi was interupted in her musings by the boy in question.

"Mrs Choi?" Mingi said quietly entering the kitchen.

"Yes, dear?"

"Thank you very much for dinner but I should be going now."

"Oh, you don't have to leave so soon, Mingi."

"It's fine; I don't want to impose any longer. Bye Jongho." Mingi bowed and made his way out of the Choi house.

Jongho and his mum looked helplessly after him,

"I think he may have heard us." Jongho said, sighing.

Mrs Choi didn't sleep well that night; thinking only about how she could help Mingi. She hoped she hadn't hurt his pride with her conversation with Jongho in the kitchen but she had been so shocked at the change in him and had to do something.

Mingi also hadn't slept well - not because of hunger this time, he had eaten more at the Choi household than he would normally get to eat in a week - but because he felt bad for making Mrs Choi worry about him. He had heard her conversation with Jongho and didn't want to have caused her upset; she was too kind a person.

Mingi was folding the pizza boxes when he heard the knock at the door next morning. He wasn't expecting anyone except the pizza company but they weren't collecting until later. He didn't expect the person who was on the other side when he opened the door.

"Mrs Choi? What are you doing here?"

"I hope you don't mind, dear...Jongho told me where you lived. May I come in?"

"Oh...yeah, of course."

As he led Jongho's mother through his tiny basement flat he felt embarrassed for her to see it; pizza boxes, flyers, black mould and the glaring sparseness of it all, devoid of any kind of homeliness. He could see Mrs Choi trying to discreetly look around but she didn't look judgemental, she looked...sad.

"I'm sorry, Mrs Choi, I only have water to offer you."

"That's okay, Mingi, dear. Water will be fine, thank you."

As Mingi filled a mug with water, Mrs Choi began talking,

"Mingi, I have wrestled all night with how to approach this without offending you or making you feel bad but I don't think there is a way so I'm just going to say it."

He set the mug down on the small table and sat on the floor, wondering what the lady had to say.

"When Jongho came home and told me he'd found you he was so excited but he also told me what had happened when he found you and how you were living." Mrs Choi, paused for a moment before continuing while Mingi sat silently listening.

"Despite what he told me I was very shocked when I saw you myself; I won't pretend to understand how hard it has been but it's clear you've been struggling significantly since your mother passed away and it pains me to think you've suffered all alone."

Mingi watched as Mrs Choi wiped a tear from her cheek, clearly very upset by his situation. Mingi had been used to it for so long now but he couldn't deny it  must be shocking to other people.

"I remember when you used to come home with Jongho after school and you boys would spend hours in his room playing games before joining us for dinner. I was always so fond of you and you were so important to Jongho. When I heard about your mother I wanted to check on you but Jongho said he'd never been to your house and the school wouldn't give me your details. When Jongho said you were no longer coming to school I hoped it meant you'd gone to live with relatives - I never could have imagined you were here all alone, struggling to even eat." Another tear escaped her and she fished a tissue out of her bag.

"Mrs Choi, I appreciate your concern but -"

"Please, let me finish, dear." She cut Mingi off gently. "I can't continue knowing you are living like this. I don't mean that to cause offence and I'm sure your mother would be very proud of how strong you've been but, as a mother myself, I know it would cause her great pain to see you this way."

It was Mingi's turn to cry now that he was reminded of his mother; he would never want her to be hurting over him.

"I thought to help you financially but I just don't feel it's enough. I want you to come home with me - I can't bear to leave you here."

Mingi was stunned. Did he hear her right? She had always been a very kind and caring person but was she really offering him a home?

"Mrs Choi...it's very kind of you but it's too much. I can't impose on your family like that."

"Mingi, do you think anyone of us could sleep at night or enjoy a meal knowing what Jongho's best friend is going through?"

"I've hardly been a good best friend to him; I disappeared without a word." Mingi said ashamed.

"Sweetheart, you went through a situation no young child should have to experience. Jongho understands that - we all do. You didn't see how upset Jongho was to have lost you...he didn't know what to do with himself. When he came home to tell me he found you again, he was just so delighted. He more than anyone wants you to come home; he's missed you so much."

"I really do appreciate it but I wouldn't feel right living off someone else's kindness and I can hardly offer you much in return."

"You can contribute what you can if you want but this isn't a conditional offer, we don't want anything more from you but to be a part of our family. Please, let us help you."

Mingi didn't know what to do. Was there any point letting his pride get in the way of the chance to have a family again? Of being warm and fed.

"Okay, I'll come with you...if you're really sure." He said feeling quite awkward.

"Oh, Mingi, darling, you've made me very happy and Jongho will be delighted."

"I'll work hard to contribute, though, I won't let you do this for nothing."

"Mingi, I used to think of you as another son, just having you around again is more than enough but I understand. Your mother would be so proud of you." She said hugging him tight.

As Mingi settled in to his new room later that night, laying on his soft, cosy bed he thought for the first time in years of what his future might hold instead of whether he would even have one. Maybe it was possible for him to dream again one day.

[mukamibabe]

How about the real wife actually does manage to leave? And the fake wives are getting real touchy to the S boys? Maybe they see their real wife having fun some where, what would they do?

whew this was a long one, but I loved it so much. thank you so much for this, anon, i had a lot of fun writing this one!! but it does get really dark in most of them,, so just beware of certain triggers and stuff!! love you guys ❤❤❤

Shu: 

• he let’s her leave, and doesn’t force them to stay. it hurts, but he assumes it’s the best thing for the both of them

• he’s so depressed after it though.. like you think he was bad before?? this is like.. 10x worse

• honestly you might as well just call him dead because he doesn’t respond to anybody, and he doesn’t even react anymore 

• once his fake wife starts getting lovey-dovey towards him, he’ll allow it

• at first he wasn’t sure because maybe his real wife just.. was not serious, or something, he doesn’t know.. but he decides to get closer to his fake wife; after all, she’s the only person he has left.

• he’s not happy about it, because he really doesn’t love her, and he doesn’t want her to know that, because that hurts, but he’ll convince himself it’ll help him feel better, and he’ll be able to distract himself from his ex-wife, as long as he pays attention to his only wife, now.

• visibly, he looks better, he’s more talkative, and actually seems happier.

• but then he sees his ex-wife in public, and everything falls apart

• he doesn’t want to feel helpless and desperate anymore, so he’ll observe her for a little bit, before approaching her, the anger already flowing through his veins

• oh, how much he’d like to kill her right then and there.. he asks her how she’s doing, but his tone sounds cold and heartless, and it probably scares the shit out of his ex, even if they don’t show it

• their conversation probably doesn’t go well, but it doesn’t last long. shu’s the first one to turn away and leave, heading back home to his wife

• if she allows him to, he’ll probably take it out on her, sexually 

Reiji: 

• he acts like it doesn’t bother him, and that he doesn’t care, and that he never cared about her in the first place, even though all of those are lies

• he doesn’t want anyone to know he’s hurting, as he himself doesn’t even want to admit that

• so he doesn’t force her to stay, but he does consider killing her

• like.. he hasn’t done it yet but he gets so close to snapping and his temptations to murder her almost drives him insane

• the amount of times he’s had to stop himself from going any farther is scary- even for him

• he’s cold and stays away from his fake wife at first, ignoring and refusing to allow her do anything else to him

• after all, she is the reason for his real wife leaving him, so he’s actually pretty harsh with her

• however, if she’s asking for sex, he’ll give it to her. he’s honestly surprised with himself but he’s going to be pretty rough with her, whether she likes it or not

• he’ll use her for all his sadistic needs, but if he’s actually ..missing his ex wife, then he’ll be affectionate towards her, in hopes it’ll distract him from thinking about his old lover.

• he goes out in public with her whenever he can, kind of hoping that his ex would notice, and be even more jealous

• hopefully his ex isn’t somewhere isolated and around other people, because once he sees her, the thought of killing her completely invades his mind

• maybe he’ll even offer to take her out, as he still remains composed and friendly on the outside

• honestly though, for reiji’s situation, death is inevitable. he will make sure she dies, and if she doesn’t die, then everyone and everything she cares about will, one way or another.

Ayato: 

• honestly i don’t know how she would’ve gotten away, but that’s talent-

• he’ll go for a couple of days without her, and within those couple of days he get intimate with his ‘fake wife’

• he doesn’t mind it, either. if that’s what she wants, then sure, it’s not like it bothers him because apparently his ‘real wife’ doesn’t want him anymore

• he’s actually in denial about it all though. he didn’t do anything wrong, she did by choosing to leave him

• so then he convinces himself he’s better off without her, and she’s trash anyways

• he does feel kinda stupid for marrying her, though. not good on his self esteem but that’s why he has another wife (not.. really but whatever)

• he does everything he can just to make his ex wife jealous. whether it be spoiling them, being very touchy with them in public, he’ll do literally anything

• …he even considers having a child with his fake wife

• so yeah.. once he sees his ex in public he instantly wants to leave, but his body wont move

• he can’t help but watch her from afar, clearly enjoying herself

• this causes him to get more and more upset, so he basically ends up stalking her

• he wants to kill her, and suck her dry, but he can’t bring himself to do that. not because he still loves her, but he wants her to suffer

• so he’ll leave signs of like.. that he’s around, but he doesn’t reveal himself

• for example: he now knows where she lives

• he’ll do things like eating her food that she was saving, he’d move things around, possibly even steal them or throw them away, idk you get what i mean though 

• from an outside view, he looks like the typical crazy ex but it’s not because he wants her back

• it’s because he wants to slowly drive her insane just like she had done to him

Kanato:

• again. if she actually manages to escape from him, she must be very smart and/or talented

• the only way for kanato not to kill them or hurt them bad enough to not leave is by doing it suddenly, making sure he has no absolute clue about it

• because other than that, she’s not leaving.

• but say she hides it well, and kanato never finds out until she doesn’t come home one night

• needless to say, he flips out

• he’s screaming, crying, throwing things around and destroying anything and everything that gets in his way

• this is where his fake wife comes in

• he’ll get mad at her first, probably calling her something very vulgar and degrading, and refusing any sort of contact she tries to give him

• but after a few days.. he just lays in bed, staring up at the ceiling as he holds his bear tightly against his chest

• he’s so sad.. why would she leave him? he didn’t do anything wrong.. he loved her..

• his mood swings happen a lot more, and his tantrums are SO much worse

• sometimes though, when he’s missing what he used to do with his lover, he’ll just use his fake wife to replace her completely

• if he has to, he will go as far as making them dress in the same clothes, he’ll style her hair the same way, maybe even trying to force them to alter the way she speaks or something..?

• he now relies on his only wife to comfort him, and expects a lot of sweets, kisses, cuddles, whatever. he only wants her company, now

• but then when he sees his previous s/o and he completely loses it, whether they’re in public or not

• first it’s just a few little tear drops falling from his eyes, but then he’s screaming at the top of his lungs, you could hear him miles away

• he yells at her, calling her various different names, and insults her with everything he can think of

• depending on how she reacts to it, he’ll kill her right on the spot, even if there’s people around; he really doesn’t care anymore.

Laito:

• again.. she’d have to be really sneaky and make sure laito has no clue AT ALL

• because once he knows about it, he will keep her down in the basement, and won’t let her out. ever

• but like i said in kanato’s thing; we’ll assume she somehow managed to keep it all a secret

• in which that case; laito doesn’t really think much about it at first

• he thinks she’s just taking a break, maybe, and that doesn’t bother him, he doesn’t mind

• he goes on for days, and days, waiting for her to come back, like a dog waiting for it’s owner

• he’s not even sure why she left, either, so he’s really confused, and for the first time since.. well, his childhood, he feels powerless.

• now, he feels like he needs to feel in control of everything once again, refusing to let his ex wife have the pleasure of knowing how hurt he felt

• so if his fake wife does come on to him, then yeah, he’ll do it, and he’ll have her convinced that he loves her more than anyone else in the world, returning back to his previous self

• he kind of goes on like.. a sex rampage, though, like he’ll get all the girls that are desperate for him, and he’ll play his game with them; he’ll have them convinced he’s madly in love with them, only to eventually reveal that he doesn’t love them, and never has

• it’s sick but.. so is ex; .. at least that’s what he thinks

• when he sees his ex enjoying herself, he’ll take a similar approach to ayato, and basically become their stalker

• except he’s much more.. revealing about it

• he doesn’t care if she sees him, in fact, that’s what he wants. also, it’s even better if she has a new boyfriend because the first thing he does is kill him, right in front of her.

• then he’ll kidnap her, and treat her like she’s nothing, calling her things like a slut, a whore, bitch, ect.. 

• and then that’s where the fun begins

• now his ex lives in his basement, starved and malnourished, so weak she’s unable to move

• basically, laito just taunts her, torturing her, both.. sexually and mentally

• lets just say he doesn’t regret having that extra wife. he’ll show his ex wife how much he loves the woman that she had been so jealous of

Subaru: 

• he’s in denial a little bit, still clinging onto that tiny bit of hope that she may come back 

• but when she doesn’t.. he’s a lot more aggravated than usual. he’s much more destructive, and gets upset even at the tiniest of things

• but his temper isn’t the only thing that’s changed; his self consciousness and insecurities get so much worse, even to the point where he questions whether he should still be alive or not

• he’ll lock himself away, not wanting to get anyone else involved with the issue, knowing that he could possibly kill someone in a fit of rage

• the first time he comes out of his room is because he’s literally starving and needs blood

• he planned on just finding someone off of the street or something, but his fake wife had offered herself to him

• and as much as he didn’t want to drink from her (he felt bad for her as soon as they had gotten married) he couldn’t help it; he was so thirsty

• other then that, he doesn’t interact with her, because he knows he’ll hurt her

• he says it’s for her own good, she shouldn’t want to get involved with a monster like him

• when he sees his ex wife out, having fun, he’s hurt, but he laughs. 

• he knew she could never love someone as horrible as him, and he’s stupid for falling for it

• he watches for about a minute or two, unsure whether he was glad to see a big smile on her face, or if he wanted to feel jealous

• after convincing himself to leave, he never looks back. it hurts, but he doesn’t want to think about her ever again

• so, here’s to new beginnings with his new wife.

[meggtheegg]

connor rankings?

I have so many feelings about Connor Murphy you have no idea. EDIT - I put them into chronological order because I feel iffy about listing them from “best” to “worst” because they’re all wonderful 

Mike Faist - Okay admittedly I am suuuuuper biased and Mike is my favorite, for sure. I’ve had him as a teacher and he is such a genuinely kind, funny person and I admire him so so much as an actor and just as a human being. That said, his Connor is fantastic, even putting that aside. If I had only ever seen Mike in bootlegs, admittedly, I probably would prefer Alex Boniello, because the subtleties in Mike’s performance are what make him shine and none of that is captured on video. Even from the mezzanine, you don’t quite get the full experience, because there’s so much stuff to focus on from far away. But when you’re sitting in the orchestra and can clearly look at his face and see his subtle expressions and changes in posture in scenes where he isn’t even prominently featured (ie. WTAW) he is a wonder to behold. And in the moments where he is prominently featured, he never loses your attention. He keeps adding things and making choices that keep all eyes on him, all the time. In his class, he told us that the key to good acting, especially when acting through song, is to focus not on how the character is feeling, but on what they want to achieve and how they are trying to get there. Every line has to build and change because, to paraphrase him, “if your last tactic had worked, the scene would be over. You would have gotten what you wanted. So, you have to keep switching tactics until one of them works.” His ‘Disappear’ is hands-down the best, because he does exactly that. He keeps building and changing with every line. Whenever he was onstage, your eyes got drawn to him. And that wasn’t just me thinking that. My grandparents, my parents, and the people sitting behind me at more than one performance all said the same thing at different points, unprompted. Admittedly, by the end of his run, the scenes where Connor was alive felt kind of (intentionally) awkward and aggressive in a way that I didn’t like as much as the way he did it earlier on, but when he was Evan’s imaginary version of Connor, you could see him physically change to become more and more like Evan until they were practically mirror images of each other. It was brilliant.

Michael Lee Brown - Don’t get me wrong, there is not a single performance here that I dislike in any capacity. That said, there is only one boot of MLB as Connor. I think it was recorded his first time going on, and maybe it was purely because of that, but his Connor is a pretty straight copy of Mike’s, which is odd because his Evan and Jared are really unique. That said, Mike’s Connor is really good. It’s a fantastic interpretation, and if you get to see MLB as Connor, you’re in for a major treat. He’s stellar. Beyonce was probably shook. It still kills me that we don’t have any recording of his ‘Disappear.’

Colton Ryan - Though there’s only a boot of Colton’s act 2, I think he really is suited for Connor. He’s a little less intimidating than some of the others, but he has a way of switching his physicality and changing dramatically before your eyes. That was what made him a marvelous Evan, and I’m sure that was the case with his Connor, too. I never saw him, but people who did often called him better than Mike Faist, so he must have been good.

Ben Levi Ross - Right from the start, as the Murphy table rolls out onstage, where the others are usually just angrily looking down at the table or something, Ben’s Connor is staring at a spoon, examining it with wide eyes like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. You don’t need Larry and Zoe to tell you that he’s high. It’s immediately obvious. Interestingly enough, that makes for a much less actively aggressive Connor. He’s also tiny, and while you’re sitting there watching him, you are constantly reminded that he was so young. Mike Faist, though definitely having a young face, is so tall and intimidating that he often feels like some strong, god-like entity. He’s powerful and intimidating, even when he isn’t trying to be. Ben’s Connor seriously struggles to get Evan to the ground when he pushes him. He’s small and broken, but at the same time…kind of terrifying, actually. Like a ticking time bomb. He’s shorter and scrawnier than Evan and Jared, but to make up for that, he’s intense and wild-eyed and unpredictable and you can totally see why Jared is afraid of him. You feel physically uncomfortable whenever he walks onstage as himself, and you know it’s intentional, because he softens way up when he’s imaginary!Connor. His voice, particularly in ‘Disappear’ is stellar. Also, his facial expressions and movements during ‘Sincerely, Me’ literally seem like a cartoon character. It’s wild. The guy sitting behind us was baffled when his daughter explained to him that “no, he’s an understudy. The regular guy who plays him was the one nominated for a Tony, not him.”

Alex Boniello - Thank god they went with such a fantastic replacement because Connor deserves the best. Alex is incredible and I cannot wait until the video boot with him becomes available. His Connor is a little less hopeless. He’s funny and sarcastic and he’s clearly struggling, but you feel like his suicide wasn’t as inevitable as it felt with Mike. Had that one day gone a little differently, maybe he could have held on. He’s more sad than angry, very misunderstood by his family, and he desperately needs a friend. His computer lab scene is my favorite, hands-down. I don’t know how much he copies Evan in act 2, because that’s mostly a physical thing, and he doesn’t really change the way he speaks like Mike did, but I think that’s because overall, his Connor is a lot more like Evan already. You can see why his parents would so quickly believe that they were best friends. 

[obscuraxrp]

The smoke settles to reveal HAN NARA, a 24 year old witch of Sunseong. They are a forensic pathology technician who appears to be adept in golem artificing, necromancy, transfiguration magic, and has a familiar --- but like most things in Sunseong, there must be more to them than meets the eye.

FACECLAIM: Lee Hongbin, vixx

APPEARANCE:

Nara’s appearance varies by the day---beneath the simple illusion cast by their ward, that is. Their eyes are invariably unnatural colors and rarely match; they like to keep their hair a shade of pastel pink, but it doesn’t always stay that way, nor a constant length or cut. Regardless of what sorts of odd colors and textures and even inhuman features decorate their skin on a given day, they are covered in large scars and places where their skin seem to have been stitched together with heavy thread. Indeed, Nara seems to be falling apart at the seams in a distressingly literal fashion from the intense duress they put their body under in the name of science, and has begun to seem rather like a ragdoll constantly being patched together with foreign fabrics and threads.

BIOGRAPHY:

The story begins ordinary, as so many do: a mother, a father, a daughter. The mother is a councilwoman of Sunseong, kind but stern; the father is a reporter, vigilant and curious of the things that go bump in the night in this city; the daughter hears voices that sound like thoughts, knows things that she shouldn’t, and becomes difficult for it. It’s brushed off as childhood strangeness to save face, but Nara’s earliest memory remains to be their father giving them a necklace, saying it’s important, it’ll keep you safe from the voices. (In part, at least, it does its job; it inhibits the natural telepathy enough that the daughter becomes only an ordinary level of childish “difficult” and “strange”, rather than too bizarre to be “human”.)

The mother is haunted by a man from her past, tall with bony fingers and a lazy eye. When the daughter meets him he claims himself her “uncle”, talks about her mother like he truly knows her, and it’s easy enough to believe, for a child. She tells him things that maybe she shouldn’t, but who are children to know for sure if they are speaking to strangers or not? No one much listens to the uncanny things that the daughter says, after all.

The next time she meets him is the first time she meets Death—the parents on the ground, motionless, the silence in her head that nags. But “uncle” says it will be fine and he’ll take care of her, of them, that he has plans and everything will work out.

The girl is a daughter no more; she is smart enough to know that dead men tell no tales. As it turns out, reanimated ones don’t, either.

The trappings of her situation are truly uncanny: parents who look the same, act almost the same, but are wrong, unthinking; a man who says he’ll look out for her, and does, but dirties her hands as his “assistant”, or “guinea pig” on worse days. He says he never means to hurt her; he says nothing is wrong. The girl believes his lies and her own, too, convinces herself that things truly are fine and that this will bring them both happiness as he claims—she ignores her instinct and blocks out the “uncle’s” voice in her head, tells herself she never heard anything at all there, but clings to the father’s charm despite telling herself again that it must do nothing.

Strange people come to the girl’s home one day and she answers the door polite, having hardly changed; she is nothing if not well-mannered, well-meaning, a little broken, a little out of touch. The DSEM people take the parents and the “uncle” away and the girl into safekeeping; she doesn’t understand, at the time. Nara won’t understand until many years later, as it were; no one explains anything to the girl, after all, certainly not the meaning of “gaslighting”, “psychological manipulation”, “emotional abuse”.

Rumors of the scandal fly but the truth is kept hushed; the things that live in the darkness are perfectly capable of silencing anyone who might speak out, after all. The “uncle” is just another piece of an endlessly huge puzzle and the daughter is a witness and pawn in a dangerous scheme; a bit of research conveniently finds one of her next-of-kin to be overseas, and a tiny bit of pressure elicits enough sympathy that they’re willing to take her in.

America is a strange new land and the girl is stranger for what she’s seen, done, been told; she can handle the language despite her accent, but there are still rumors buzzing around her head. It doesn’t help that the voices are back, her lucky charm weakened to nothingness; the girl’s grades plummet, despite her obvious and recorded intelligence, and her behavior grows problematic, aggressive, defiant. The guardians weren’t prepared to deal with this and so they find her a boarding school; it’s a convenient solution to get her out of their hair, and maybe, if all goes well, to help.

The girl is still just that: a girl, too young to stand on her own, hardly on the heels of teenage years, but she finds herself with structure and support. She doesn’t know what she believes anymore so she doesn’t speak of what she may know; the magic lingering in her flesh, the scars and disfigurations left in it, tell their own story, or so it seems. She stays quiet and distant and lost as the people in white try to help, to pick apart a tale of physical abuse and the dangers of magic; the girl must come to understand it in her own way.

The girl becomes a witch, if only by their own word—they are enraptured with magic, seeking catharsis within its wonders, finding for themself a sense of power and control and understanding which they had felt lost to them. They blossom under the spotty tutelage of an older peer who claims herself a witch, who says that they “smell like magic” and perhaps she’s right, in that. The girl becomes a person with a will and a way to channel these incomprehensible feelings, obsessions, delusions, the pain, the power—and they become stronger, seem healthier, it’s like some kind of miracle.

( Maybe it is, in the eyes of those who blind themselves—but Nara’s eyes are wide open. )

There’s no point returning to their guardian’s home, even if it’d be possible now—it isn’t home, isn’t even somewhere pleasant, as “home” is a place lost, distorted in time and space, warped beyond imagining. Instead Nara stays boarded; they learn to hide the undesirable things about themself and their behavior, slowly but surely. The peer who called herself a witch graduates but Nara scrambles for knowledge amid their restrictive environment regardless. At a time they sneak a kitten into their dorm but it proves too sickly and doesn’t survive long no matter their efforts; by now their mind is already constructed of such nonsense that it seems perfectly rational to try to bring it back. It worked before, for that man—but it doesn’t work for Nara, inexperienced and ill-prepared.

Failure becomes a motivation to improve and serves only to deepen their morbid fascinations, their search for complete power and rebirth in the face of death—there’s only so much they can do without resources, though, so they pour themselves into their studies instead. Science substitutes their fascination for magic in the same way that saccharin substitutes for sugar; it’s enough for now, and it leads to Nara graduating from high school a success story, reformed with perfect behavior and perfect grades, on their way to university without a hitch.

Nara seeks the girl they knew, the one who taught them, but finds that she’s left it behind upon cleaning up her act—they’re left confused, without a foothold into the things they truly want to know. But they have no shortage of determination; they comb through the internet for spells and starting points as they continue their studies, start to understand the inner workings of machinations and living things alike. The workings of their own mind are more mysterious; they want to understand that, too, the things lurking in their subconscious, the reasons for what happened to them, to their parents, that man. Life is beautiful but death is inevitable and fascinating—there are too many curiosities inside their head, and Nara seeks to reconcile them.

Anxiety and shyness are their constant companions but determination and fixation are as well; Nara finds the courage to go to the unassuming club where witches are said to meet. Yet again they’re dazzled by a woman with beauty and power, magic singing at her fingertips and calling out like a siren song to a young scientist with too many questions. Her name is Liza, they find, and when Nara says they’re from Sunseong originally she lights up; she lives there with her boyfriend much of the year, she says, only coming home to visit family sometimes.

Nara puts in applications to transfer to Sunseong University the next day.

It’s impulsive, childish, but Nara is infatuated with Liza the way they were once infatuated with magic only to have fallen in love with it—even if she treats them like the child they are she doesn’t discourage them, not with telling them that she teaches at Sun-Song Academy and with teaching them bits and pieces of the things they’ve been so desperate to learn. Thus, Nara doesn’t pause—they leave the States behind and return to the homeland that feels purely foreign now. The guardians don’t complain; they’re still pursuing their education and keeping their behavior straight, so it’s fine.

Initially, however, they push that education to the side; finally having resources at their fingertips to learn about magic is a more interesting distraction, and Nara puts more hours into their “night classes” than into their degree proper. They begin to toy with their own body, destructively curious—undoing the bizarre damages done years ago and replacing them with new ones, prettier ones, if less skillful ones. It’s somewhere between self-harm and self-cleansing, the rebirth they sought taking a physical form, a process of owning what they were and what they are and what they will be. By the time they realize they need to change gears and re-focus on their more mundane studies, they’ve metamorphosed from the fearful, broken person they once were into something new and strong and beautiful. (They haven’t changed as much as they wish they would on the inside, but they can’t see that deeply still.)

Regardless, they put themself back on track: they complete their education while pressing onward in their endless pursuit of power, of beauty, of knowledge and understanding. Everything they’ve done isn’t enough to get the kind of attention they wanted from Liza but that slowly ceases to matter, too; Nara is fickle and there are too many things in the world that require their attention, new and blind fixations that come and go like rainclouds. They find a job in a lab and science continues not to disappoint them as a cover, a front, a manner of supporting their other interests; continued exposure to death eventually brings a daemon to Nara’s side and they contract her, name her after that kitten that somehow never left their mind, and find in Morgana a witty and sharp-tongued companion to enable their mad pursuits.

As the world shifts around them, Nara presses forward in their own blind, obsessive way; they’re still chasing something they can’t define, though they stick a different name on it every day the same as they shift up the details of their “tragic past”. They’re as fickle as ever, and in that way they haven’t changed—more than that, their problems left unfixed, mysteries about themself unsolved, so much left to understand and master for as long as they chase that nebulous “power” that they need to feel whole.

CHARACTERIZATION:

They would like to fashion themself as a smooth talker, the affably evil villain, the magnificent bastard---but Nara's eccentric nature cannot be so easily hidden by a saccharine facade. It's true that they come across as sweet and likable, gentle and perhaps people-pleasing; perhaps there is a truth to these things about them, too. However, even less-observant people don't miss that there is something off about Nara---it would seem that their very presence has an unsettling quality about it. Their smiles are too sweet, almost rotten; quips too sharp, awkwardly cushioned by softer words; gestures too scattered and jerky, almost surreal; gaze always wandering, scheming; even the way Nara speaks is odd, gentle and lyrical yet barely concealing a venomous bite of arrogance beneath. Yet, most people decide to ignore Nara's quirks---after all, their outward behavior indicates little other than a stand-up individual, a warm conversationalist and a dedicated worker with a razor-sharp intellect---if Nara means no harm, then there's nothing to worry about, of course.

Whether or not Nara in fact "intends" any harm, however, is questionable.

They have one foot in the deep end, barely staying afloat of "reasonable" behavior---they are fascinated by, perhaps even obsessed with, matters of life and death, of beauty and decay, these incredible dualities of magic and man which nara believes are the key to some form of enlightenment. Sacrifices must be made for the sake of advancement and knowledge is indeed power---magic is the key application of knowledge that will lead to transcendence from the shackles that humans place around themselves out of fear of their own power. It is not unfair to say that Nara has a developing god complex, a certain fanatic narcissism concealed by a weak veneer of humility that perhaps only exists because they haven't reached their true potential yet.

But perhaps in truth, Nara is simply another lost soul desperately trying to give themself value and worth, clueless as to the nature of humanity---even more so as to the nature of intimacy. They easily become attached and just as easily become distant; they are emotionally volatile and perhaps toxic, but it is in matters of the heart which they truly mean no harm despite their propensity to cause just that in the course of following their impulsive, insatiable curiosity.

SPECIALTIES:

Golem Artificing (rank I, 20 points) :: Magic related to the construction and animation of artificial beings. Nara requires sufficient components (which can vary, but must be structurally sound) to build golems, and all golems must have some form of biological “core” in order to be animated---they must draw their “life” from somewhere, (namely, Nara’s own flesh and blood,) as well as a steady drain of energy (from Nara) in order to function. Nara can “bond” golems to other people (both for receiving orders and using energy) if the golem uses someone else’s “life” as its core, however. These golems are unintelligent and only capable of following simple, direct orders, in a rather literal fashion. At this time, they also may not be larger than 2 feet in any given dimension. Most of them resemble cats due to Nara’s personal tastes, unless they are specialized for a certain purpose. Both crafting and animating golems requires a dedication of time; Nara has never built even an exceptionally simple one in less than a month’s time.

Necromancy (rank I, 20 points) :: Magic tied to death, both in the way of deceased spirits and deceased bodies. Nara’s primary interest is in reanimation and preservation of the reanimated; in this way, their reanimated puppets are not much different from their golems, including how they must be small (animals) and unintelligent (unless Nara manages to bond their spirit or some other spirit to the flesh in question, which they have questionable success with at best). Nara is able to communicate with the dead and with spirits, but this is a skill they have put less attention into; in any case, most necromantic spells require time to complete and Nara does not have them memorized. Their primary means of immediate self-defense, however, does come from a necromantic spell that lets them sap life energy from other living things; intense concentration is required to drain an amount that would be noticeable, however, and even this will only bring animals/humans to a state of fatigue or cause plants to wilt. Nara cannot kill this way, though they can use the life energy they gather to fuel their golems or assist in their other magics---using it to heal their wounds is somewhat inefficient, as they simply are not skilled at this.

Transfiguration Magic (rank I, 20 points) :: Magic related to the shaping of things into new forms. Nara’s interest in this magic primarily is in learning to perform cosmetic alterations to living things, though other minor alterations of form are not beyond them. They cannot drastically increase or decrease the size/mass of any object when changing its form (by roughly a quarter of its original size either direction) and cannot create drastic changes in form/material (so to say, a cup can become a bowl, but it cannot become a stuffed toy). Transfiguration is a highly scientific magic with even the simpler tasks requiring sufficient time and attention to detail in order to be completed correctly. So to say, while Nara might be able to perform an exceptionally simple transfiguration (cup to bowl) from memory, most transfigurations require a bit of research into the materials and forms being transfigured from and into alike---and Nara’s study has mostly been dedicated to alterations of flesh, so far as materials and forms go, which are still too complex without the requisite time and effort, given the current level of said study. Nara tend to use themself for their bodily transfiguration experiments, which means their body is constantly covered in strange markings, blotches of color or scales or fur, and other minor deformities; due to this constant experimentation, their body tends to “shapeshift” cosmetically at random and outside of their control, resulting in these oddities being as inconsistent as they are disturbing.

Bonded Familiar (rank I, 20 points) :: Nara managed to summon and bond this ghost-like, death-attuned daemon, named morgana, some time ago. Her true form resembles a wispy, smoke-like black cat with glowing blue eyes; her greater illusion looks more like a tuxedo cat, but the illusion is somewhat unstable. Her primary ability is possession---she can possess Nara’s golems most easily, though sometimes she will possess ordinary cats with a bit more effort---which she uses to gather information and sometimes small objects for Nara. She and Nara share a mental bond through which they can communicate simple ideas and share their senses. She is capable of speech and witty banter, but she is not deeply intelligent so much as she is somewhat clever. Being that she is a daemon of death, Morgana is able to “sense” both magic and death---her magic sense is blunt and simplistic, only conveying strong magic signals and what sort of origin they have. Her death sense conveys if there has been death near a person or thing or place recently, and allows her to determine the cause of death of a body simply by being near it. Morgana can also tell if something will die soon, but only if that death will come of natural causes and could thereby have been otherwise foreseen easily.

Ward of Ordinary Illusion (minor, 5 points) :: The side effects of Nara’s experimentation on their own body leave it as unstable as it is unusual in form. To combat this, Nara carries a charm on a simple necklace which casts a simplistic visual illusion over their body, causing them to appear as a normal person to the mundane eye. Anyone with the slightest bit of magic sensibility is likely to see through this disguise, however---it is not intended for them.

Telepathy (innate) :: Nara has always been able to “hear” thoughts, though their control over this is weak at best---if anything, they may be able to “shut off” this ability when they are calm. By default they “hear” the immediate, surface-level thoughts of any living thing within a 25 foot radius of themself, with most of those thoughts being audible only as mumbles or white noise; only the strongest and clearest thoughts will be intelligible, and the thoughts of beings closer to them are more likely to be intelligible than those at a distance. Intently focusing on a single entity can help narrow Nara’s listening range to them only, but they are still only able to hear immediate thoughts regardless. The more thinking entities are nearby, the more difficult it is to interpret any of their thoughts sensibly. Nara has a difficult time distinguishing “thought words” from spoken words.

points spent: 85/100