#it's to help fight off the crushing existential dread

[evilmalcom]

Half-Life VR but the AI Is Self-Aware (Sometimes shortened to Half-Life VR: Self Aware AI and abbreviated HLVR: AI) is a role-playing themed livestream and machinima series staged within a virtual reality version Garry's Mod recreation of the video game Half-Life. The series, live streamed to Twitch with highlights later uploaded to YouTube, follows Gordon Freeman accompanied by the Science Team (controlled by other improv actors) as they loosely follow the events of the original Half-Life game.

The series was met with positive reception by critics. On May 12, 2020, a cast commentary series began to be uploaded to the wayneradiotv YouTube channel.[1] On May 31, 2020, a sequel, AI Crushes All Banks[a] was streamed as part of a charity drive,[2] set in Payday 2, in which the main cast begins a bank robbing spree across the city of Washington, D.C. On November 25, 2021, a spin-off series titled Half-Life: Alyx but the Gnome Is Too Aware was released.

Format

Half-Life VR but the AI Is Self-Aware loosely follows the events of the original Half-Life, albeit with a much more humorous and comedic tone, with main character Gordon Freeman (played by series host WayneRadioTV) accidentally causing a Resonance Cascade and exploring Black Mesa to try to escape (and later undo his actions).[3] The series' main divergence from that of the original is the introduction of original self-aware AI characters, who despite the name of the series, are performed by other improv actors.[4][5][6]

Similarly, the series is actually played within the game Garry's Mod, as Half-Life lacks support for virtual reality and additional features necessary for the staging of the series (such as limitations with object spawning and map sizes). The most notable actor-controlled characters are the series' supporting cast: three scientists named Bubby, Dr. Coomer, and Tommy, as well as an antagonistic security guard named Benrey (alternatively spelled "Benry"),[4][5] all four of whom follow Gordon in his journey through Black Mesa, generally to Gordon's detriment.[3][7]

Characters

Main characters

Dr. Gordon Freeman (played by WayneRadioTV): The primary protagonist of the series. A scientist at Black Mesa, Gordon is the straight man of the series, reacting with confusion and horror to the rest of the cast's actions. While generally having profound perseverance and emotional stability throughout the series, he is also shown to break down after major events and often loses his patience with members of the group. Gordon is a natural leader and looks out for everyone on the team, and is hesitant to take innocent lives, unlike the other scientists. He has his hand cut off by soldiers midway through the series; one of Darnold's potions results in Gordon growing a gun-like appendage that fires fingernails in its place. However, he later regains his missing hand at the end of the series. His favorite video game is revealed to be Kane & Lynch 2: Dog Days. He mentions having a son, Joshua, and has a picture of the two of them in his locker at Black Mesa, however he is only mentioned one other time when mocking Benrey's passport.

Dr. Harold Pontiff Coomer (played by hollow_tones): A scientist known for his cheerful demeanor, superhuman strength, and severely glitched tutorial NPC behavior. He is an incredibly skilled hand to hand combatant, and started the Black Mesa Underground Fight Club. Unlike the other members of the cast who generally treat the events of the series as if they were real, Dr. Coomer regularly breaks the fourth wall to inform Gordon about various made-up game mechanics. While Coomer at first appears unaware of these "glitches", the gag culminates with Coomer falling into an existential dread, realizing and making explicit references to the fact that he is in a video game. At one point, he attempts to take control and escape from the game by ambushing Gordon with the help of his “clones”. He speaks directly to Gordon at the end of the "game", suggesting that he takes the Science Team with him. One of his most used quotes is "Hello, Gordon!". He speaks a lot about Wikipedia, and his favorite game is Super Punch-Out!! for the Super Nintendo Entertainment System.

Dr. Tommy Coolatta (played by Baaulp): A friendly, childlike scientist who turns 37 at the end of the series. He shows great concern for following rules and consulting written references for information, often referencing Wikipedia and OSHA regulations as they explore the ruined science facility. Tommy forms a close bond with Gordon over the course of the series, as the only member of the Science Team who never antagonizes or betrays him. However, despite his kind nature, he is highly distractible and easily manipulated by the other characters into allowing their wrongdoing. Tommy has the ability to read the Black Mesa Sweet Voice, an ability used by several characters throughout the series, especially his dog Sunkist. Tommy also has the ability to see incredibly fast due to his constant consumption of soda.

Dr. Bubby (played by MasterGir): A crass, impulsive, and egotistical scientist. His ego and demeanor often lead him to clash with Gordon, and later in the series, Bubby betrays him to the military when Benrey convinces him that Gordon was holding them back from escaping Black Mesa. It is ambiguous as to whether Bubby is his real name – though it is listed on his passport later in the series, he claimed to have sustained a head injury from the resonance cascade that made his name hard to remember, and Gordon expresses doubt that he is remembering correctly.

Benrey, alternatively "Benry", (played by socpens): A sullen and hostile security guard. Prior to becoming the main antagonist in the final act of the series, Benrey follows along with the Science Team while constantly harassing and arguing with Gordon, demanding to see his passport and accusing him of various misdeeds while deliberately ignoring the wrongdoings of the other characters. He has an absentminded demeanor, often ignoring the team and asking for simple directions or questions to be repeated. He exhibits near invincibility, murders indiscriminately, and casually remarks that he is "not human". Benrey was thought to have died after he was crushed by a closing door, but it was later revealed that he was still alive and had some connection to the skeletons that Gordon kept seeing. In the finale, Benrey reveals his alien nature and turns against the Science Team, blaming Gordon for the events of the Black Mesa incident and for ruining his plans to relax and play Heavenly Sword on the PlayStation 3 with his friends because he ran out of PlayStation Plus. Benrey also edits the Wikipedia Article for All Dogs Go to Heaven 2 to say that Gordon Freeman died at the end. Since then, there has been continuous vandalism of the All Dogs Go to Heaven 2 Wikipedia page, warranting semi-protection.

Recurring characters

G-Man (played by spaghoner): An enigmatic alien being that frequently attempts to give Gordon cryptic advice. He is later revealed to be Tommy's father, having aided Gordon so Benrey would be defeated and Tommy and his friends could have a birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese.

Forzen (played by socpens): An HECU Marine and minor antagonist. Forzen claims to have formerly been Benrey's best friend, and the two have similar personalities and mannerisms. Despite his tough appearance, he is quite shy and does not seem particularly interested in going out of his way to cause violence. He holds Tommy's dog Sunkist (named after the eponymous soft drink) hostage, but flees when the outcome disfavors his intentions.

Skeleton (played by socpens, spaghoner, Lauren, and Logmore): A mysterious skeleton that haunts Gordon. It is initially left ambiguous as to whether the Skeleton is a hallucination or not, and much of the nature of the skeleton is left unclear, although it is associated with Benrey in some way and often behaves like him. A team of skeletons are summoned under Benrey's control in the final battle of the series.

Darnold (played by Logmore): The head of the Black Mesa Mixology Department. Darnold aides the Science Team by equipping them with advanced technology and administering a potion that transforms Gordon's severed arm into a minigun. While initially excited about joining the Science Team on their escape mission, he turns back after witnessing the violence they commit. He returns in AI Crushes All Banks to support the team remotely.

Sunkist (played by Lauren): Purported to be the perfect dog. He was created by Tommy, possibly with some help from G-Man, and is immortal. Sunkist is a very large, two-dimensional stock image of a Golden Retriever, almost the same height as Gordon. He is shown to be incredibly obedient, bulletproof, and is capable of flight.

Dr Coomer's ex-wife: Dr Coomer's ex-wife is mentioned multiple times. When the science team tries to name the Vortigaunts, Dr. Coomer says they look like his ex-wife. When asked if Dr. Coomer has any family, he responds with "I did have a wife, but they took her in the divorce". It is implied he has multiple ex-wives.

Dr. Coomer’s clones: Due to the original Half-Life reusing models for scientists, several NPCs share the same model as Dr. Coomer. A running gag in the series is Dr. Coomer referring to these NPCs as his clones. This gag culminates in Dr. Coomer (having become self-aware at this point) summoning dozens of clones and ambushing Gordon with them in an attempt to take control and escape the game.

JohnWicklover1994: A mysterious person who joined the Science Team temporarily during the AI Crushes All Banks stream. Portrayed as a gamer whose server was invaded with the team members. Has an apathetic and negative personality strikingly similar to Benrey's. Benrey later claims that JohnWicklover1994 was his brother using his account.

[kekeran]

been doing some quick studies lately!! these are about 1-1.5 hours each

[dameronology]

what can you do? (peter parker)

a.k.a the one where peter has an existential crisis about turning 20 (based loosely on 30/90 from tick, tick, boom)

warnings: a bit introspective? and also language

i turned 20 five months ago and i've been in this weird phase of wondering where the fuck my teenage years went and then realising that time is merely a concept and 30/90 captures that in a way i can't quite explain. enjoy xx

- jazz

p.s this is written with tasm peter in mind but it can probably work for the other 2 as well

Peter Parker had come to discover that that song from Shrek had been right. The years started coming and hah, fuck. They did not stop.

He’d been solemnly staring at the calendar in your bedroom for days, sad brown eyes watching as his twentieth birthday rapidly approached. It wasn’t so much the day itself that he was dreading, but rather the crushing realisation that he was no longer a teenager. The years he was meant to make the most of had come and gone and now they were waving him off in the rear-view mirror. What had he even done with them? There had been a lot of watching TikToks, and binging Netflix, and skipping class and…well, he had become a vigilante. There was that. Maybe it was something.

He was trying to make something out of his life, at least. Night activities aside, he was going to college (when he didn’t sleep through his alarms). He had a job with his freelance photography and it was enough to help his Aunt out. And then there was the best thing of all; you. Peter still didn’t know where you came from or why you’d chosen to bless him with your presence, but your relationship making it out of high school and into the real world was hands down, his biggest achievement. You were both young, struggling college students, holing out in his childhood bedroom at May’s house but hell, it felt pretty solid.

“Pete,” you appeared beside him on the morning of his birthday, snapping a lopsided party hat over his fluffy brown hair. “No matter how much you stare at the calendar, you’re still twenty years old.”

“I don’t like it,” he huffed. “I think things were better when I was nineteen. I’m wrinkling already.”

“Oh, god,” you murmured, peering closer to his face. “I think you are. Those smile lines are abhorrent-”

“- you’re such an ass.”

Peter grabbed you, lanky arms reaching for your waist and pulling you down onto the bed. It let out a loud creak as you did and you both froze, waiting momentarily for May to call up and ask what the fuck you were doing. After a few seconds of silence, Peter continued on his attack - he grabbed your hands and pulled them above your head, brown eyes creasing with a grin as he peered down at you.

“Take it back!” he demanded.

“Take what back, grandad?” you teased, snapping the elastic on his party hat. “I think you’re having memory problems.”

Peter let out a groan, rolling off of you and dropping onto the bed beside you. He left an arm strewn across your stomach, head resting gently against yours. You could tell that something was getting to him - he always put up more of a fight than that.

“Hey,” you gently reached out a hand, finger ghosting his cheekbone. “Are you really that sad about turning twenty?”

“I’m sad about not being a teenager,” he admitted. Peter rolled onto his back, pulling you into his side as he did; his hand stayed on your shoulder and gently traced patterns across the material of the shirt of his you’d stolen. “There’s so much I said I’d do but didn’t.”

“Like what?”

“I wanted to travel, but that never happened. And I wanted to learn to skateboard better, and enter contests,” he said. “I just always had this vision, you know? Of my life being so much more put together than it was now.”

“Yeah, I get that,” you replied. “When I was a kid, I thought I’d be married and rich by now. Instead, I wait tables when I’m not studying and I have to count the loose change in my purse to see if I can afford 99 cent filter coffee.”

Peter snorted slightly. “That’s what I mean - I had big dreams and I haven’t achieved any of them.”

“Are you forgetting that you’re Spiderman?” you propped yourself up on your elbows, glancing down at him. “You’ve saved the entire fucking city, Pete. There’s literally not a single person our age who’s done that.”

“I know,” he sadly smiled. “I just wish I had more of a plan, you know?”

“I had a plan,” you said. “I was gonna get my GED, marry a rich older man and then just be a trophy wife.”

“That sounds like a dream.”

“Oh, it really was,” you winked. “I found my rich old pervert but when I went to leave you for him, I couldn’t find it in me. I think it’s your sad, sad eyes that made it so hard-”

“- you suck so much,” Peter grabbed you again, pulling you down into his chest.

Truth be told, he could have stayed like this forever - just you and him, endlessly pissing about. It didn’t matter where you were or who you were with, because when it was the two of you, nobody else mattered. No matter where he ended up in life, Peter just knew he wanted to be with you.

“You know you don’t have to have it all figured out, right?” you gently asked. “Literally every adult I know has just been working it out as they go along.”

“I just don’t know where I’m going,” Peter said. “I’m so desperate to make it in life but I also don’t want to grow up yet. All those ideas I had as a kid seem so far away now.”

“You’re literally a superhero.”

“I don’t know where that’s going either!” he groaned. “I don’t know anything. I’m just aging like a piece of sad cheese and the future is hopeless.”

“You’re twenty, not eighty,” you reminded him with a soft chuckle. “If you spend so much time worrying about the future, you’re gonna miss what’s happening right in front of you.”

“You think so?” He raised an eyebrow. “Because Mark Zuckerburg was younger than me when he made Facebook, and Bill Gates-”

“- look around, Pete: you’re doing really well in college, you’re a freaking vigilante, and your significant other is a hot piece of ass,” you shot back. “Just because you didn’t help make Facebook or Apple-”

“- Bill Gates made Microsoft-”

“- yeah, whatever,” you rolled your eyes. “My point still stands; just enjoy where you are right now and shit will work itself out.”

Peter smiled, hands still roaming your body absent-mindedly. He let out a small sigh of content, and you couldn’t help but feel the tension leave your body. He was always on the go; always thinking of the next big thing and how to achieve greatness. You loved the boy more than life itself but damn. Sometimes you wished he would just slow down and breathe for a second. It was something he was getting better at - mostly thanks to you - but you could still feel his panic every now and then.

“It’s okay not to know what you’re doing” you murmured, voice slightly muffled by his chest. “It’s okay to just…be. Pressure free, you know? Take it day by day and maybe you’ll get there, and maybe you won’t, but you can at least enjoy the journey.”

“When did you become so wisdomic?”

“I got a lecture from my mum when I had the same breakdown on my twentieth,” you confessed. “Easy enough for her, I suppose. She was at Yale by the time she was our age.”

“How does it feel to be the disappointing child?”

You peered up at Peter. “Honestly? Not so bad.”

He smiled back at you - at least he knew one thing. He wanted you in his future. Things felt okay with you; not shaky and unsure. He didn’t have to question what you had or where it was going, because he was certain you could work it out together.

“The years are gonna keep coming, aren’t they?”

“I’m afraid so, kiddo,” you replied. “But what can you do?"

“How are you so calm about all this?”

“I’ve been twenty like three months longer than you,” you reminded him. “I’ve got this whole what the fuck even are your twenties for thing sorted.”

“Any advice?”

You let out a yawn, nodding. “Yup. They’re for sleeping.”

Peter awkwardly shuffled you both to the top of the bed, kicking the covers up and pulling them over you. It was midday by that point; May was at work and neither of you had anywhere to go. You could lay here for as long as you needed to and just…exist.

“I like that idea,” he agreed. “I slept through most of my teenage years so it seems only right to nap intermittently until I’m 29.”

“Then what?”

“Then I’ll panic about the fact I slept through most of my twenties and have a meltdown about turning thirty.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you smiled and buried your head in his shoulder. “See, you do have one after all."

[stardusttrashed]

My Cup of Tea

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x fem! reader, slight Jean Kirstein x fem! reader

Warnings: Fluff, slight angst

Word Count: 7.3k

A/n: I pictured y/n as a blasian or lightskin

Most of your friends thought you were crazy for wanting to join the scouts. They didn’t understand why you’d throw your life away like that. Always telling them living inside the walls and in constant fear wasn’t living anyway probably didn’t help the situation. If anything, you might’ve just gave them all existential crises.

In hindsight, joining does seem like a death wish. Throwing yourself right towards a titan for the sake of humanity. It was no wonder people preferred to join other ranks, such as the Military Police. But the threat of death never really scared you. You always thought that you needed to feel like you were living before having a rational fear of any alternative. You couldn’t explain why, but you felt like that solution was just beyond the walls. Somewhere so close but so far. 

So you joined the 104th Training Corps and graduated second in the class. You were a close first, second to Mikasa Ackerman. That was an achievement in itself since you started a running joke with her and the others that she wasn’t human. She was some titan god in human form. Or something like that.

In reality, ranks aside, making it through the training was good enough for you. Between the rigorous training and the bunch of idiots that provided numerous headaches- and even more laughter- there were times you doubted you’d even make it through. 

“I had a hunch you were as crazy as Eren, but I didn’t think I’d be right.” There he was, your biggest headache of the bunch. Jean Kirstein. You loved the loud-mouthed, blunt boy to bits, but that didn’t mean he was any less close to getting his ass kicked at any given second. 

It was apparent he had a crush on you since day one. Well, you and Mikasa, but his fixation on Mikasa was stomped on once everyone could see how head over heels she was for Eren. So he settled for you, the next girl with exotic black hair that had no crush to get in his way. 

He sat across from you at the table with an overconfident expression.“You could join the military police instead and live peacefully. It’s the smartest thing to do.” From the corner of your eye, you could see Eren’s head snap in your direction. He was glaring daggers at the both of you, well, mostly Jean, but for once, Jean’s attention remained on you.

“Well, Jeanie-” you leaned in closer, resting your elbows on the table, “- I guess there’s a first time for everything.” you chuckled and returned to your original position, taking a bite of bread.  “You’re only half right, though; I’m crazier than the suicidal blockhead over there.”

“I can hear you two, you know,” Eren broke in. 

“Oh, I know. You may be able to kick Je-ju’s ass, but I can hold my own against you,”  you chuckled before turning back towards Jean. “Besides, being in the Military Police sounds boring,” you said with a shrug. “I joined so I could become a scout so that I could get out of these walls. I’m sure you’ll have enough fun inside the walls for both of us.” 

Jean shook his head and mutter something inaudible under his breath, clearly disapproving. 

“Coward,” Eren mumbled loud enough for the both of you to hear, causing yet another one of their famous dining hall fights to break out. You looked across the scrapping pair at Mikasa, sharing a tired and somewhat annoyed smile with her.

The next day was like a nightmare. Chaos broke out as word of the return of the Colossus Titan’s return spread like wildfire. Wall Trost had been attacked, and titans were spilling into the city. Everyone was wildly unprepared, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t scared shitless. Without the Survey Corps, the 104th Training Corps were sent to the front lines. You were about to see your first titan and put your training to the test. It was everything you hoped for and dreaded all at once. 

You slew every titan you could that crossed my path, killing three titans alone and assisting more than you could keep track of. It wasn’t enough, though. Countless comrades were lost, either through being captured by titans or by running out of gas for their ODM gear. Nonetheless, you soared through the sky, flinging yourself from building to building as you did your part to keep humanity safe. 

Somehow in all the commotion of heading towards HQ, you got separated from the others. “Shit!” You stood on a roof, stopping to survey your surroundings. Titans still roamed through the city on the search for their next victim. Their footsteps grew closer, the building beneath your feet shaking uncontrollably. 

That’s when you saw them. The Survey Corps were back and working on the remaining few titans. You watched as Captain Levi killed a titan with ease and moved onto the two titans treading closer. He walked with such calm confidence you couldn’t help but stop to admire him. He made killing them look beautiful, like a dance. 

Without a second thought, you aimed my gear towards him, desperate for a closer look. You soared through the sky, mindlessly slaying every titan that got in between you and Levi. You were nearly there when your gear refused to function. In a quick moment of panic, you repeatedly squeezed the triggers, but nothing happened. You desperately hit the gears in hopes of bringing it back to life to no avail. You braced yourself as you began to tumble to the ground. You closed your eyes, sadly accepting your fate as the strong winds caused a few curls to fall from your ponytail. You had lived and done your fair part for humanity. At least you had taken out a few titans before your death. You prepared yourself for impact until you felt an arm wrap around your waist, pulling you back up towards a roof. 

“Trying to get yourself killed?” You were greeted with a pair of steely yet breathtaking gray eyes. You felt like you were dreaming. Captain Levi was holding you in his arms like a knight in shining armor. 

“I wasn’t, but now I’m having second thoughts- especially if it means I get to be swept off my feet by you.” You bit back a cheeky grin as you searched his eyes. His frown remained pressed in on his features despite the flash of interest in his eyes. The longer you stood there, the more you grew aware of his arm still firmly wrapped around your waist. 

He kept looking at you like he was expecting something. There was something about you that he found intoxicating. Maybe it was that mouth of yours or the wind-blown mess of black curls. His eyes trailed up from your gaze to your hair, which was probably a mess if you were being completely honest with yourself. When his eyes looked back down into your own, you couldn’t help but get lost in their storm. “You’ve got quite the balls on you, rookie. Too bad, you’re an idiot.” 

It took everything in you not to hit that smug smirk off his face. “No more of an idiot than you are, Captain.” You knew you could get written up for the way you were speaking to the captain, but the threat only spurred you on further. “Only difference between us-,,” you pressed yourself closer to him until you could feel each breath, “is that my balls are bigger.” 

Levi’s smirk was replaced with a more intense look that could’ve been mistaken as hunger as he held you tighter. “Prove it, brat.”

You searched his face for a sign he was joking as you let out a nervous giggle. You slipped out of his grasp and checked your equipment when you realized he was dead serious. “I’m out of gas. The supply team never came.”

“Well, if you don’t want to die, I’d suggest you use whatever little brain you have and think.” He nodded towards an approaching titan. Levi crossed his arms as he watched you like a game.

The 5-meter beast stumbled through the damaged buildings, rushing towards you. It was only three buildings away and covering ground fast.

Your train of thought went a mile a minute. The increasing intensity of the quakes beneath your feet only helped spur it on. You took down your hair and quickly redid your bun as you thought. “Take me as high as you can with your gear, and I’ll handle the rest.”

He hesitantly agreed, wrapping his arm around you once again. Your breath caught in your throat as you both went flying through the air towards the stumbling beast. You knew your plan was half-assed, but you couldn’t help but have faith nonetheless.

Once you were directly above the titan, you gave Levi the signal to let go, sending yourself spiraling towards the figure below. Levi watched with a dumbstruck expression as you confidently twirled through the air. You dove as gracefully as you could be with any ODM gear to help guide you. 

“Damn idiot,” Levi muttered to himself as you drew your blades. He swooped in, loosely wrapping both arms around you from behind in an attempt to help guide you. Surprisingly you managed to slice a clean chunk of the titan’s neck almost instantly. Part of him wondered if you had even needed his assistance. He carried you back up to the rooftop and gently set you down in front of him.

You twisted your body to face your savior with a cheeky smile. You shouldn’t be surprised he stepped in with such ease considering his reputation. He had no doubt worked on countless team missions, but there was something about the way you worked together that felt so natural.

“Told you I could handle it,” you mused to the annoyed-looking man in a way that came off unintentionally sexual. You wiped your blade on your sleeves before putting them back in their holders.

Levi quickly averted your gaze with a quick ‘tch,’ surveying the area. You felt like fire in his arms, which made him unusually flustered. He dropped his arms to his sides as he took a step back. He didn’t expect you to take his challenge so easily and pull it off, especially since you were out of gas. He admired that you weren’t all talk, that you could actually handle yourself. It made each annoyingly snarky comment that came out of your mouth even more intoxicating. “W-we’ll fall back. My squad can handle the rest of these ugly bastards.”

 You turned to face him only to have him continue to avoid your gaze. When he finally met your gaze again, he held his hand out to you with an expectant look in his eyes. You hesitantly took it, cupping your hand in his. It felt like electricity coursed through your veins at his touch. He pulled you closer with an unsuspecting strength, wrapping his arm around your waist once again. 

He was so casual about it while your heart felt like it was about to beat out of your chest any second now. “Is this how you get all the women, Captain?” You chuckled in hopes of concealing your nervousness. The scolding look in his eyes and the tint of red emerging on his ears spurred your teasing flirtations on. “I’m just saying-,” you rested your hand on his chest, “- your arm is starting to feel real homey right there.”

Levi looked away once again, “tch. Are you trying to live or not, brat?” 

You snaked your arms around his neck and kept quiet. Once he seemed happy with your answer, you hopped into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist. You wanted to make sure you were as out of his way as you could be. That, and you wanted to see his reaction. You could practically see the vein bulging from his temple, but he made no effort to correct your stance. Instead, to your surprise, he moved one of his hands to hold your thigh as he made sure you were secure.

His grasp only lasted momentarily before they fell on the triggers. Taking off without being the one in control felt so different. You felt a rush of butterflies in your stomach, causing you to subconsciously wrap your legs tighter and bury your face in his neck. The more you breathed in his scent, the calmer you found yourself getting. He was like a safety blanket you never knew you needed yet never wanted to let go of.

You didn’t see much of Captain Levi once he dropped you off with the other trainees. He left without so much as a bye. Not that there was much time to anyway. You couldn’t dwell or even so much as daydream. The days that followed were filled with cleaning up the remnants of your fallen comrades. There were so many bodies that went unidentified; it made you sick to your stomach—the only person who was more torn up about it than you was Jean.

Graduation followed soon after. You were officially able to call yourself a Scout. The next morning you and the others who joined the scouts were led to a castle. It was cleaner than you thought it’d be. You took your time getting to know the castle, eventually stumbling upon the Mess Hall. 

There had to be at least a dozen scouts in the room, yet you could make out one voice above the others. You anxiously looked around to find the man behind the bored sounding voice. Within a few moments, you had found him, your eyes landing on the raven-haired man with tired eyes. He was sitting with his squad and Eren across the room.

“Hey y/n, if you’re gonna keep staring, you might wanna wipe the drool off your chin,” Connie teased as he walked up behind you.

“Seriously,” Jean joined in. He slipped into the space next to you, despite this side of the room being practically empty. “I don’t get what you see in him.” He shook his head, disapprovingly.

“I’m not staring at captain Levi, you nitwit,” you snapped quietly, already annoyed by their teasing. You kept your lips in a tight line as you tried to control yourself. “I was just imagining myself being part of the Special Operations Squad,” you grumbled. 

“Y’know,” Armin piped in, nearly scaring you from his sudden intrusion in the conversation. “Neither of them said anything about Captain Levi.” I could hear his cheeky yet bashful grin in his voice. Connie’s and Jean’s obnoxious laughter only made it worse.

You turned to Armin with a deathly glare and opened your mouth to say something. You quickly closed your mouth as he met your stare. With a huff you turned away, focusing back on Captain Levi. “You’re too smart for your own good sometimes.” You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything bad about him or be rude. Armin was the little angel of the group that you always had a soft spot for. You turned to Jean, eager to get the attention off of you. “Bet if it were you I was drooling over, you wouldn’t have an issue.” You watched him with a cocky grin, basking in his dumbfounded expression. 

“Just shut up, will ya,” he barked a tad louder than necessary as he crossed his arms like a child throwing a fit.

Your eyes wandered around the room while you laughed at his reaction. To your surprise, when your eyes landed on Levi again, he was already looking in your direction.

Everything Petra was telling him went in one ear and out the other once he spotted you across the room. He cursed himself for his heart skipping a beat. It shouldn’t have been a surprise to see you here. You were crazy enough to go after a titan when you had zero gas left in your ODM gear. What would stop you from joining the scouts? He wanted to go talk to you, to at least get to know your name, but he had to stay and talk to Petra. Levi watched helplessly as you practically ran out of the room.

You tried to stall going back down to the Mess Hall as you stood in your room fixing your hair. You sprinkled some water on your hair to revitalize your curls like you would a plant. You didn’t wear your hair down often since all the wind from using the ODM turned it into a mass of tangles. 

“If you aren’t coming, can I have your serving?” 

You laughed to yourself, not needing to open the door to know who was on the other side. “You touch my serving, and I’ll kick your ass.” Sasha greeted you with wide eyes as you opened the door. She looked you up and down with a stupid grin, making you feel slightly subconscious about wearing your hair down.

“You’re gonna make Jean lose it,” she beamed, quickly cut off by a loud growl from her stomach. She scratched the back of her neck bashfully, “s-sorry I only ate one loaf for lunch.”

“Sasha,” you started with a straight face, “that’s literally how much we always get.” She looked at you like you had said the most absurd thing ever, and you raised your hands in mock defense. “You can have my bread tonight then.” 

Sasha practically dragged you by your hand to the Mess Hall. You found a seat between Connie and Armin, who not so subtly kept sneaking glances at you. Before your butt even touched the seat, Sasha nabbed your loaf of bread, plopping down across from Connie. 

“You uh, you look-.” Armin was cut off by Jean as he made himself comfy across you.

“Wow. I, uh, like your hair like that.” Jean gaped at you with a stunned look on his face. You couldn’t help but feel a boost of confidence under his gaze. It was like you were the most beautiful girl in the world.

“Hey Je-ju,” you said as seductively as you could muster, batting your eyelashes at the man in front of you. It must’ve worked cause you could hear even Armin quietly sputter beside you. Jean hummed as he leaned in closer. “You’re drooling.” 

Jean was brought back to reality by your laughter. He sat upright and muttered something under his breath before focusing on his food. He almost found the laughter that followed yours from Connie and Sasha obnoxiously annoying. 

Your laughter died out as your eyes absentmindedly scanned the room. The room was full of faces you had never seen before. Full of people willing to lay their lives down for humanity. Everywhere you looked, people looked somewhat at ease except for the short man sitting across from the commander. Unlike the others in the room, a smile never graced his lips, just a permanent frown. “Give me a sec,” you announced to the others. 

Jean’s eyes followed yours, and he quietly sighed in annoyance. You shot him a half-apologetic smile before making your way over to the pair. You swiped two cups of tea on your way over, still trying to conjure up what exactly you’d say to either of them. 

Commander Erin was the first to notice your approach, pausing his conversation with Levi so he could look up at you. His piercing ocean eyes stared at you, making you nearly forget why you even went over. 

Your breath caught in your throat as Levi deadpanned to you with an icy stare. He rolled his eyes after a long moment of silence had passed. “Looking for something, rookie?”

His curt acknowledgment made the butterflies in your stomach go wild, filling you with an antsy warmth. You felt childish for getting this nervous around him. What if he doesn’t even remember you? With a steely breath, you calmed your nerves enough to start talking.“Y/n Y/l/n of the 104th Cadet Corps,” you saluted. Erwin nodded in acknowledgment, but Levi continued to stare at you like he was bored. “I- I thought maybe you two would like something to drink—” you set down the cups in front of them, “— I was also hoping I could speak to Captain Levi.”

Levi stared at you, checking you out as discreetly as possible. He was finally able to admire your hair now that it was out of a bun. Your curls were gorgeous, like nothing he had ever seen before. You were gorgeous. He got lost in the thought of being able to run his fingers through your hair, playing with each curl on your head. 

You couldn’t tell if the expression on his face was disapproval or if he was intrigued, but you carried on either way. “I was hoping to be under you.” You grimaced at the slip of my tongue, nervously biting your bottom lip. You desperately hoped that they didn’t notice how your cheeks now felt like they were on fire.

Levi raised an eyebrow, choking on the sip of tea he had taken. You noticed his ear transform into a light shade of pink. Commander Erwin held back an unmistakable chuckle, hiding his smirk behind his cup of tea. “Excuse me?” Levi asked once he finally managed to stop coughing, still unable to get himself to look you in the eye. He was sure it was a slip of the tongue, but that didn’t stop the rush of excitement coursing through his body. He had his eye on you since the first day he met you, and your slip up definitely wasn’t doing anything to help.

“A-apologies, I mean, I want to be part of the Levi squad.” You ignored his disapproving scoff. “I want to help retake wall Maria and eventually see outside of the walls.” You chewed your lip, thinking of what else to say.

His silence was growing more deafening by the second. You were suffocating in it. Any confidence you had quickly died out like a fire without oxygen. 

“You think going against the Titans once and not dying makes you qualified to be part of my squad,” he started in a condensing tone. “You’re not. I won’t make you a part of my squad so that you can go out and get yourself killed.” He didn’t what’d he do if you were to get hurt while being in his squad. Or even worse, he didn’t know how he’d react to having you so close. So he did the best thing for both of you: deny your place on the team.

“Then let me show you why I am qualified,” You interject, finally rediscovering your fight. Did he not remember how you took down the titan when you first met? Sure, you needed assistance, but only because you were out of gas. “Only thing that’ll kill me are natural causes, and I don’t consider those ugly bastards to be a natural cause. I’m going to help reclaim wall Maria even if I’m not a part of your squad.” You nodded at the commander out of respect before taking off back to your seat.

You plopped down in between Connie and Armin once again with an irritated huff. He was so cold, yet you still found yourself wanting more. Maybe that’s what really irritated you about the situation. 

“Take it your talk didn’t go well,” Armin asked sympathetically, cutting into your thoughts.

“Of course not; what’d you think you were doing just walking up to them like that,” Jean scolded you. You could hear the mixture of relief and triumph in his voice, but you said nothing about it.

“Well—” Sasha began as she stuffed her face with whatever food she had leftover, “— she’s not entirely wrong. They are just people. Scary, intimidating, and powerful, but still people.”

“Whatever you said clearly got their attention. Captain Levi has been staring at you since you left,” Mikasa said curtly, silencing any bickering among our group. 

All eyes found themselves on Levi, who carried on his conversation with Erwin. They looked back and forth between you and the captain, trying to piece together what they missed. Eventually, one by one, they lost interest, turning around to focus on their food or whatever new conversation they could create. Even then, his gaze never left yours- watching you through every nod, reply, or sips of tea. You were the first to break the staring contest, jumping back into conversations like nothing happened. 

It became a routine of sorts. You’d spend your days’ training with the others, doing your best to push Levi out of your mind long enough to focus on being the best in each exercise. Each night for the next couple of weeks, you would bring him a cup of tea during dinner. No words were ever exchanged, just stares and a cup. He never even said a thank you, not that you ever really expected one. 

“Why do you keep giving him drinks?” Eren looked at you with genuine curiosity as you prepared to give a cup of tea to Levi. 

You shrugged, unable to think of a real reason why. He never asked for it, thanked you for it, and he barely even acknowledged you for it. Yet you still gave him a cup of tea everyday. You stared at the cup in your hand. The warmth it provided was nothing compared to the warm feeling Levi caused inside of you. Maybe that was the answer. Or perhaps it was to help him look a little less tired. “Guess it’s one of life’s strange mysteries.” You shot Eren a half-hearted smile before getting up and walking over to Levi.

He was seated with the other captains, the four of them speaking in hushed voices despite the room being full of chatter. You had half a mind to turn around out of respect, but you were already close enough for Hange to notice you as they glanced up at the room. 

You probably could’ve still turned around since Levi hadn’t noticed yet. Instead, you hesitantly carried on, keeping your head down. Set the cup down and keep it moving. That was the plan. For once, you wanted to keep my head down, but that plan flew out the window as you felt his fingers brush against yours. You held the side of the cup since you had picked up that Levi only held his cups from above, but there he was. You looked up at him with a hitched breath, completely forgetting the other captains were there. The half-smirk on his face and his fingers still on top of yours made it hard to think, move, or even stand. He looked at you from the corner of his eye and let out a quiet pleased sound at your reaction.

You shared a quick knowing look at each other that didn’t go unnoticed by Hange before Levi moved his hand so you could leave. Hange waited until you and the other captains had walked off, quietly plotting the whole time. “So, you and one of the recruits huh,” Hange asked vaguely. Their eyes were wide with their typical borderline crazy look. Levi’s shrug told them everything they needed to know. This was a rare moment to be treasured. Levi has a crush. Or at least a fixation. “Y/l/n, right? She is quite the cutie. Think I’d have a chance?” Hange noticed Levi’s frown deepen as he sent them a threatening glare. Hange burst into a fit of laughter, “I was only kidding. I wouldn’t steal your crush, I probably could, but I wouldn’t.” Hange chose to ignore the subtle way Levi’s body tensed at the word crush. “Why not go talk to the girl? Y’know, only so much can get done by just staring.” With a supportive smile, Hange walked away, leaving the dining hall. 

“Just ask him out already,” Sasha blurted out with a mouth full of bread. 

You opened my mouth to protest, but Jean spoke first, “she’s not wrong.” He sat across from you and stared at you in discontent. “It’s painfully obvious that you like the man even though you two have barely spoken a word to each other.” His blunt words dripped with venom, but the hatred never reached his eyes. He still had the same tenderness in his eyes like the first time you saw him. If anything, he was hurt more than angry. Jean slid his cup over to you and mumbled under his breath, “guess I can’t judge much, though.”

You held the cup in your hands, watching the liquid slosh around for a moment before taking a sip. “Thank you, Jeanie.” You met his gaze with a shy smile and could see his expression soften a fraction. “I mean it.”

You looked between Jean and Sasha with a confused expression as his face suddenly hardened, and Sasha gaped like a fish at what was behind you. “What?”

“Y/l/n,” a voice piped up from behind you, causing your whole body to freeze.

You looked at Sasha, quietly asking for confirmation. She nodded, her eyes still zoned in on Levi. You cautiously turned around to see Levi standing beside you. You let out a quiet squeak as you clambered to your feet. “Yes, sir, captain Levi.” You gave him a quick salute. 

Levi almost found himself smiling at your sudden formality. It was cute seeing a different side of you. He averted your gaze but quickly looked back at you when his eyes fell on Jean. He was reminded it wasn’t just you at the table. “I need to speak with you.” He didn’t wait for a response as he began heading outside.

You gave the pair an apologetic smile before running off behind the captain. You walked in silence for a while, enjoying the cool autumn breeze blowing between the both of you. “Is something the matter, captain?”

Levi shook his head but remained quiet. The look in his eyes was strangely shy, something you didn’t even know he was capable of. It was almost like he was just as nervous as you were. You pressed the thought out of your head. “T-thank you-,,” he stopped in his tracks and turned to face you, “-for all the teas. I still won’t let you join my squad.”

“I know, that’s not why I do it.” You pushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear. 

Silence enveloped you once again, giving you time to admire his features. He was gorgeous under the moonlight. The little light somehow accentuated his strong jawline to the point where it almost rivaled commander Erwin’s. His usually lackluster eyes sparkled like the stars above. 

Unbeknown to you, he was admiring you just the same. Part of him wished your hair was down again, hoping to see the way your curls frame your face. You had an untouchable innocence in your eyes, the same eyes he always found himself getting drunk off of. He stopped himself once his thoughts began to go back to his first encounter with you, reminding him of how you felt in his arms. You were right, his arm did feel at home around your waist. 

“There’s no point in having any relationship,” Levi eventually said more to himself than to you. “Either of us could die to those bastards at any moment, and I’m probably older than you think.”

You failed to hold back your giggles as a cocky smile pressed in over your lips. “I never said anything about a relationship either, captain. You came to that conclusion all on your own. Who’s to say I’m even interested? Maybe I’m just really nice.”

Levi took a challenging step closer, “You’re not.” The corners of his mouth turned up into a cocky smirk. “I wasn’t born yesterday-.”

“Oh, I know, old man,” you quipped, taking your own step forward. 

“Tch. Dumb brat, a few cups of tea isn’t going to get me to fall for you.”

You closed the small gap between you, leaving barely enough room for the wind between you. Your body yearned to be closer to the warmth that radiated from him. “All your stares say otherwise. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve liked me since we first met, captian.”

He leaned down until you could feel his breath on your lips. Every inch of his body craved you. Against his better judgment, he wrapped an arm around your waist. The air between you was electric, only helping to light every inch of your body on fire. He pulled you flush against him, relishing the feeling of having you in his arms again. It was too much like a dream to him. A dream he felt he desperately needed to wake up from. “It’s a good thing you know better.” With that, he walked away. 

You were left hanging, the cool autumn breeze feeling more like an arctic chill now. You wanted to yell or pull him back towards you, but instead, you stood there mentally throwing a fit like a child who didn’t get their way. 

You took your time getting back to your room, forcing yourself to go to sleep as soon as you sat on your bed. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t relax enough to fall asleep. Levi invaded your thoughts. You weren’t sure when or how, but you eventually drifted off into sleep. 

The next morning you prepped for the 57th Expedition despite the heaviness in your eyes. 

“Geez, you look dead,” Jean chuckled as he helped you up onto your horse. His hand stayed a little longer on your hip than necessary, but you chose not to say anything. He waited until you were completely situated before removing his hand. 

“Yeah, you’ve got more eye bags than captain Levi,” Connie laughed as he hopped onto his horse beside you. 

You rolled your eyes, probably closing them longer than necessary. “Shut up.” You pulled your hood over your eyes, “stop goofing off and focus on the mission. 

“Ah, Y/n, right,” an unfamiliar voice called out to you. Their footsteps quickly approached you, stopping short by the side of your horse. You looked in their direction, greeted by Hange with an eerily cheeky smile. It was like looking at a child with a secret who desperately wanted to spill. “Glad I could catch you.”

“C-captain Hange!” You quickly removed your hood with a bashful smile. “Yes, that’s right.”

Hange’s smile grew wider, causing you to glance at Connie and Jean for some sort of help. “I was told to come wake up a certain brat.” They handed you the steaming cup of tea carefully. 

You tried to hide your blush behind the cup as you drank quickly. It wasn’t the best tea you’ve ever had, but it certainly got the job done. With every sip, you could feel yourself gaining a little more energy to carry you through the day. Your mind wandered to Levi, probably already in his formation. After last night you thought he wouldn’t want to ever talk to you again, yet here he was sending you a cup of tea. You handed back the cup with a thankful smile, “guess he’s a softie after all.”

Hange laughed and shook their head, “I’ve met titans easier to understand than you two. Don’t go dying on him out there, rookie.” With that, Hange left, finding their place in the formation. 

The warmth from the tea didn’t last you long. Things quickly went to shit. It was arguably worse than the Battle of Trost. Everyone knew to wear their hoods to conceal their identities, but they didn’t know exactly why until she showed up. The female titan wiped out forces in the blink of an eye, but no retreat was called. Instead, you were ordered to perch the branches of the Titan Forest, acting as a distraction. Countless soldiers were lost, including all of Captain Levi’s squad except for Eren, before an eventual retreat was called. 

Upon arrival, the scouts were ordered to turn in Eren, but you couldn’t seem to bring yourself to care. Not when you had heard the word of Levi being injured. Your mind went into a frenzy with panic. You just needed to see him. You needed to know how badly he was injured. You needed to see for yourself he was okay. 

Without thinking, you barged into Levi’s quarters, only to run directly into Commander Erwin’s solid chest. You quickly stepped back, muttering various sorries despite the amused sound that left the commander. You didn’t waste any time making your way into the room once Erwin walked off.

“Knocking does exist, brat-” Levi was cut off by you flinging your arms around his neck. He couldn’t do this, not now. He couldn’t let himself indulge in the butterflies in his stomach or the soothing feeling of your embrace. He had just lost his entire squad, and the mission was a disaster. He didn’t have time for this right now. Levi lifted his hands to push you away but stopped short at the quiet sound of your sniffling. 

“I was- I.” You couldn’t seem to find the right words. Part of you wanted to thank him for the tea, while the other wanted to let him know how worried you were about him. You wanted to tell him that as inconsiderate as it might be, all you could do out there was hope he was still alive. Instead, you clung to Levi, your heart pouring itself out through your eyes and onto his ascot. You could feel his rigid frame slowly melting into your embrace.

Levi’s breaths grew labored as the embrace carried on. It was like he could feel all of your emotions, the grief, the relief, the guilt. He felt everything, and it mixed with his own feelings. He forced himself to muster enough strength to gently push you away by the shoulders. He wanted you to be upset, to stop this stupid display of affection that sent his heart into overtime.

“I-I told you already, dumb brat, that I don’t like you.”

“Then stop me,” you whispered with a wavering voice.You were done playing games. The vast number of comrades that were slaughtered by the female titan reminded you just how close everyone was to death. You’d be damned if you died before getting this opportunity. Slowly you closed the distance between your lips until you could feel his breath ghosting over your lips. “Tell me that cup wasn’t from you. Tell me I was alone in hoping you were safe while we were out there.” You hated how your voice was breaking with each statement. “Tell me I’m the only one who’s heart is about to leap out of their chest.” You nervously pressed your lips against his, relishing in his warmth.

Levi responded instantly, kissing you with a bruising force. Desire for you took over every thought until he yearned nothing more than to touch and be touched. He squeezes your hips possessively, pulling you flush against him. He couldn’t tell you any of those things, and you knew it. He sent you the cup at a point of weakness. Even as he fought the female titan, you managed to invade his thoughts until he had half a mind to go look for you. He wanted to protect you with the same ardor Mikasa had to protect Eren. You had somehow seen past his stoic walls, and it only fueled his hunger for you. 

Your hands fumbled with his ascot, stepping back once you set his neck free from it. You watched his eyes darken with an almost lustful look as you wrapped the piece of fabric into a bow around your ponytail. A quiet groan escaped his lips as your lips devoured his now exposed neck. Every nip and open mouth kiss made him weak in the knees, completely forgetting the dull pain in his ankle.

“You’re the only cup of tea I need.” The words fell from his kiss swollen lips before they even registered in his brain.

You broke into a bashful smile, his words stirring up a new kind of giddiness inside of you. “That was the cheesiest yet cutest thing I’ve ever heard.” You halted your assault on his neck to look up at him, “I didn’t think you had it in you. It almost puts my comment about coming close to death so you can sweep me off my feet to shame.” You pecked his lips as his usual annoyed expression returned. “Kinda sounds like you like me, Captain.”

“Get out,” Levi grumbled embarrassedly, causing you to giggle. The sound was equivalent to a clean room, filling him with a sense of pride and happiness. He could feel his ears burning as if someone was holding a flame to them. 

“Not until you tell me if I’m just any cup or your cup.”

“Relationships are pointless,” Levi answered. The look in your eye told him you weren’t going to let him rest until he gave a straight answer. “I’d like it if you were mine.”

You pressed a quick kiss to his lips, “I know. And for the record, I’d like if you were mine too,” you called over your shoulder as you walked out the door. 

You had already left the hall by the time Levi noticed you left with his ascot still tied around your ponytail. His usually private persona was pushed out the window by a sense of pride. You were his and that ascot made it clear as day.

Your new hair accessory and Levi’s suddenly missing ascot didn’t go unnoticed at dinner. Nor did the marks on Levi’s neck that Hange kept eyeing and giggling about. 

Levi could feel a smile threatening to spread across his lips as you walked with him back to his quarters after everyone left the Mess hall. You didn’t even let him go near his desk, carefully pushing him towards his bed as you fussed about him needing rest. Humanity’s strongest soldier was being babied by a brat with a big mouth and a bigger heart. 

Levi chuckled to himself as you climbed into bed with him. He hesitantly allowed you to pull him into your arms. He pressed his forehead against yours as he allowed himself to get lost in the feeling of your fingers running through his hair. He absentmindedly twirled one of your still damp curls around his finger. A comfortable silence filled the room as you both admired each other. You slid your free hand into his, lacing your fingers together. You pressed your lips to his knuckles as you came to the quiet realization that he was going to be your new reason to live. Being beside him felt like a breath of fresh air and you promised yourself you would do everything you could to hold onto him. You were going to see the world outside of the walls with him. 

He didn’t expect it, but your soothing touch lulled him into one of the best periods of sleep he’s had in years. Every time he woke up, you were still there with your hand in his. You made him think of a life outside of this normal. A life with you at his side as his wife and the mother of his children. Levi pulled you closer as he drifted back to sleep. You were going to be the death of him, and in a titan filled world, he couldn’t think of any better way to go.

[micyclemorton]

this is a loooong one, boys

yes this is going to be a masterpost for my main 12 trolls so you can get to know them! they’re not all in the same world, but I don’t have any class/aspect clashes. biographies posted under the cut! suirev - burgundy / lumina - bronze / dietas - gold / phobis - mutant / lamiac - olive / immera - jade / ruilin - teal / tracor - cerulean / itoria - indigo / jezakk - purple / astril - violet / cirlun - fuchsia suirev - sylph of light / lumina - page of space / dietas - thief of doom phobis - mage of life / lamiac - seer of mind /  immera - bard of heart ruilin - rogue of hope / tracor - prince of blood / itoria - knight of breath jezakk - heir of time / astril - witch of rage / cirlun - maid of void 

suirev, lumina, immera, ruilin and jezakk are alternian, but only immera and ruilin are connected in terms of their lore. dietas, itoria and tracor are beforan, and all connected. suirev, lamiac, astril and cirlun hail from exonera (the first planet in the universe of my fansession) and are all connected to each other.

suirev - praying mantis lusus lumina - star-nosed mole lusus dietas - chameleon lusus phobis - serpent lusus lamiac - fennec fox lusus immera - venezualan poodle moth lusus ruilin - raccoon lusus tracor - scorpion lusus itoria - ant lusus jezakk - harp seal lusus astril - angler fish lusus cirlun - axolotl lusus

~~

YOUR NAME IS SUIREV HELIOS.

Nobody believes you, not even your MANTIS LUSUS, but you know a lot more about the fate of the world than you let on. They dismiss your PROPHECIES as bogus, no matter how many tomes you write, and you’ve lost count of how many that is. You consider yourself PRETTY ENLIGHTENED, but not in the spiritual sense… yet. The spirits that pester your caste a lot of the time even seem to avoid you, which would have confused you a time ago, but now you know why.

You’ve developed a nasty habit of checking everything you want to say in your head, and they’re sick of being your mental proofreaders. They’ve made it very clear they dislike you, so you have some HEALING to do. People find you preachy, but that confuses you a lot. You’re mostly silent so that you can concentrate on the cacophony (spirits or no spirits) ringing through your pan, as you get some REALLY GOOD STORY IDEAS from them. Besides, you were named after an OLD GOD for a reason. You should have the right to preach.

One might even say that you’re COMPLETELY RAVING MAD, but at least you try to keep your appearance in check. It’s a shame your blood colour makes your EYE BAGS so obvious.

Your handle is LiteraryLunatic, and y★u end y★ur sentences with exclamati★n marks! S★ n★b★dy notices h★w tired y★u are! Besides, y★u’ve been staying up all night with pr★phecies racing thr★ugh your pan! 

~~

YOUR NAME IS LUMINA SERVIN.

You’re a maniacally busy troll, but you wouldn’t have it any other way, because your pan is always buzzing with NEW IDEAS. You have to keep yourself busy to fend off the ENCROACHING EXISTENTIAL DREAD that fills lowbloods like you. Your mole guardian helps you expand your desert-bound hive-workshop, because you’re often too busy - catering to all of the stupid VIOLET TOURISTS AND LANDDWELLERS in the nearby hive-clusters in order to make money and survive - to pay any attention to trivial household chores. 

You’re not very good at what you do yet - though some would suggest otherwise - and you’re just striving to be better. You can recognise that you have the POTENTIAL to be GREATER, and it’s all just barely out of reach. You made yourself some KICK-ASS GOGGLES, inspired by the human subculture of STEAMPUNK, which you adore. They’re probably your best work to date, and you wear them so constantly that you’re afraid they’ll meld onto your face sometimes. The metal they’re made of, BRONZE, is the same colour as your blood, and one of the most pleasing aesthetically, in your opinion. No-one’s figured that out yet, luckily enough.

You’re an avid blacksmith, inventor, tinkerer and the rest of it. You’re making quite sure that you possess any title that involves HANDS-ON CREATION, really. Sometimes, you COMPLETELY SPACE OUT when you should be working, thinking of how best to go about things that really don’t require that much thought. It’s just how you roll.

Your handle is MechanicalMiner, and SOoMETIMES YOoU CAN COoME OoFF AS A LITTLE TOoOo LOoUD BECAUSE OoF WHAT’S PROoBABLY INDUSTRIAL DEAFNESS, EVEN AT THIS AGE.

~~

YOUR NAME IS DIETAS LAMBDA.

Misfortune has pretty much DEFINED YOUR LIFE up until now, but that’s not important. What really matters is your job, and it’s a relief to have distraction. You know that you’ve been through a WHOLE LOT OF HELL, and would never wish that on anyone else. Ever since you crashed a training ship, blacked out for a bit and met your moirail, your dear ITORIA, things changed. Your HELMSTROLL DREAMS might have shattered, but she made sure you’re not too miserable.

YOU CAN SEE EVERYTHING. Well, almost. After losing your biological eye in the crash, Itoria built you a brand-new one, and now you can see in INFRARED LIGHT as well. You’ve recovered thanks to her, and you want to repay her by TAKING AWAY THE SUFFERING OF OTHERS, doing what she did for you. You travel around selling CHARGED-UP PROSTHETICS to trolls in need, while simultaneously keeping off the trail of the OVERSEERS, a pack of Ceruleans who you’re pretty sure want to kill you and your moirail for saving people.

YOU’RE NEVER GOING BACK TO THAT PLACE. The training centres are a source of shame and hurt for you, because you abandoned your guardian to get a purpose that ended up not working at all. How dumb that was.

Your handle is PsionicProsthesis. Yx0xu speak with a flare that reminds yx0xu of the symbx0xl that was given tx0x yx0xu at the training centres, as it’s a hx0xpe yx0xu’ll never fx0xrget despite the negative memx0xries, and tx0x represent yx0xur lx0xst eye. 

~~

YOUR NAME IS PHOBIS SACCHE.

If your lusus could talk, they’d probably say you were a NERVOUS WRECK. You’re not going to tell anyone otherwise, because your shaking hands prevent you from pulling up the blinds in your constantly darkened hive. Not that you’d want to, of course, since you live in a GHOST TOWN. Populated by literal ghosts. They don’t interact with you much, which you’re extremely grateful for. If the drones thought you were alive, you’d be dead in two seconds flat, with your BRIGHT RED BLOOD on public display.

It’s MAGICAL that you’ve survived this long, but you think it’s because of the menacing SERPENT that you’re fortunate enough to have as your guardian. You like to use their scales to fortify the SCYTHES AND OTHER WEAPONRY you build for yourself. They tend to do most of the hunting, as you can’t risk going out of your hive much, but you do enjoy training. Your LIFE itself is a gamble, and it makes you paranoid as hell, but at least you’re a decent fighter. Not that anyone would know or care. You also like TELESCOPES and looking at the STARS, but have no idea that your symbol means anything to do with that.

Your handle is SerpentineStargazer, and youre a phucking,,,, phucking brasssh little,,,,, ssshit whossse dumb… dumb phorked tongue makesss you…. hisss when youre nervoussss. ~~

YOUR NAME IS LAMIAC FENRIS.

You’re small in stature, but that doesn’t undermine how HARD-WORKING AND DRIVEN you can be. After all, when you work for THE EMPRESS, things need to be perfect. You’re also RESIDENT TELEMARAUDER of SKAIANET SYSTEMS, being tasked with worming your way into people’s minds to sell DIFFERENT NEFARIOUSLY-LABELLED PRODUCTS.  You’ve never seen them made, but that’s not your job. It’s most likely for the best, anyway, seeing as how easily frightened you can be when FENFOXMOM isn’t around. Working for such an awful corporation and even more awful people - looking at you, Mr LaCroix - makes you sick to your stomach, but you need the security.

You’re a pleasant enough troll to be around, but can always change your expression and demeanour, your words cutting as sharp as the weapons you use to defend yourself. You do hate getting your claws dirty unless people really get on your nerve, in which case you’ll tear them to shreds verbally and physically. Somehow, the renovated ballroom you use as your office has been clean of client’s blood for a whole week! Something tells you you shouldn’t be excited about that, but what can you say? You’re territorial. Even though you can’t remember the last time you properly hunted, you can SEE WHAT’S GOING ON INSIDE PEOPLES’ HEADS and defend yourself. 

Your best friend at the palace is the HEIRESS, which can be a bit strange due to the remarkable caste-gap between you, but she barely seems to care about that sort of a thing, which is nice. She’s the reason you have the job at the palace, because you consider THE EMPRESS HERSELF to be a very disagreeable person, even though you can’t exactly state that out loud unless you’re gossiping with Cirlun. 

Your handle is FluctuatingFoxfire, and yo)u speak in a manner that perfec)tly c)o)nveys yo)ur need to) pro)tec)t yo)urself fro)m harsh judgement, while also) ho)no)uring the sign emblazo)ned ac)ro)ss yo)ur w)ork c)lo)thes at all times. ~~ YOUR NAME IS IMMERA METREN.  

You’ve always been down in the BROODING CAVERNS, doing what all Jades should do and tending to the Mother Grub as she churns out her little grubs for everyone to see. You’d rather not be around to see them, if you’re being honest. You think it’s all just tiresome, thankless work, and aren’t really sure why exactly YOU HAVEN’T RUN AWAY YET. The chattering of your colleagues makes your head hurt, and their happy-go-lucky demeanours just make you REALLY WANT TO SCREAM. At this point, you’d take being a lowblood fighting for their life over whatever job you have here. One occupationless troll among thousands won’t hurt the economy too much, right? You sure hope not.

The fuzzy, pathetic, colourless MOTH you have as your lusus is just waiting to be crushed in the busy environment, and she refuses to leave you alone. Most Jades’ lusii abandon them if they work in a cramped space and fulfil the DESTINY SET OUT FOR THEM, but yours won’t. It’s not like you have the HEART to tell them to leave, and they barely listen to you as it is. No one seems to, troll or otherwise, even though your ninth wriggling day has come and gone and you feel your WINGS growing in. Generally speaking, that’s more of a rare Bronzeblood thing, but you’re sure that’s why your back is itching. You suppose it’s one of the - only - perks of being grub-like. 

You just want to do one of two things: Have your colleagues SING YOUR PRAISES for your hard work, as they should acknowledge you, or ESCAPE INTO THE ALTERNIAN WILDERNESS so deeply that not even your lusus will be bothered to traverse your dangerous path. But you have to put up with the noise and the heat and the MURDEROUS INTENT blooming inside you where it shouldn’t really be in the first place.

Your handle is VindictiveVenusian, and YOUR’3 NOT <3RY TOL3RANT OF ANY HOOF33ASTSHIT YOUR COLL3AGU3S TRY TO SPOUT AROUND YOU, SO YOU TRY TO <<ARN THEM OF A POTENTIAL KISM3SITUD3 AT ANY GI<3N MOM3NT. ~~ YOUR NAME IS RUILIN CAPITA.

Some would call you a thief, but you have more dignity than that. Even though people continue to call you dirty and look down upon you for the nefarious way you act, it’s JUST WHAT YOU’VE BEEN TAUGHT by your RACCOON LUSUS. You love them more than you love getting your MONEY-GRUBBING CLAWS all over your newest riches, and that’s certainly a testament to just how highly you think of them. They’ve always been around for you, and you WISH SINCERELY that they’ll never leave, because they’re the only support you have. 

You weren’t exactly raised well, being stuck in the BROODING CAVERNS for far longer than you should’ve been while the lusii took charge of all the grubs around you. YOU’RE THE ODD-ONE-OUT. It’s filled you with WHITE-HOT RESENTMENT, and you’re on a mission to gain back what you lost. You’d once wanted to become a legislacerator or something like that, as with all the other trolls in your caste. But that doesn’t quite suit the reputation you have on the streets, nor the way you’ve been treated. Why get justice for a system you don’t believe in? Besides, you know that someone would rat you out so that you’d be culled, not be the one doing the culling.

You want to take back what was stolen from you, and you’ll get your TRUSTY GAUNTLETS dirty any number of times to do so. Mostly, though, you steal money just because you have the skills to. Being a mid-lowblood isn’t the best, so you’ve picked up tips and tricks from THE VERY THUGS YOU’D NOT WANT TO STEAL FROM YOU.

Your handle is RaucousRebellion, and ¥ou t¥p€ using th€ many $trang€ $ymbol$ ¥ou find on ¥our ¢oin$ and not€$ - that w€r€n’t €xa¢tl¥ *¥our$.* until a mom€nt ago.

~~

YOUR NAME IS TRACOR BOLDEL. 

Everyone agrees with what you have to say, and that’s exactly how you like it. That’s how it’s always been, from the moment you were chosen in the brooding caverns by your MAGNIFICENT SCORPION LUSUS. They left you long ago, because you didn’t think you needed them, and you don’t really care where they might be right now. They’ve taught you to be commanding, and now your words STING SHARPER than the knives you’re so fond of using at any opportunity you may get. It’s not necessary, really, but it makes you seem fittingly intimidating and means that NO-ONE WILL STEP OUT OF LINE. 

So you thought. Contending with idiots in the PRISMATIC TRAINING CENTRE FOR YOUNG PSIONS ((LOCATION B2)) is a much harder task than you first realised, due to the fact that there aren’t enough OVERSEERS and too many indigoblooded instructors that know that they can break your control with a little bit more effort than you can prevent. Why they couldn’t spare two ceruleans per centre is beyond you, but it hardly matters enough. You’ll kill with your knives if your empath abilities don’t work, or they don’t COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY DOMINATE THE COMPETITION YOU’RE CONVINCED IS REAL.

Even though you’re so busy sending goldbloods to their deaths, and you don’t really have time for quadrants, ITORIA APREIN IS OUT FOR YOUR BLOOD. She’s the main reason why you think there’s an uprising stirring within the centre, and the trolls who you let loose from your control at the end of the day DON’T WORSHIP YOU LIKE THEY SHOULD. You’ll fix that over time, of course, but you are just waiting for the right moment to strike. Your handle is BloodthistyBenevolence, and yovr tone of voice is aluuays nnvch gentler than anyone uuovld expect it to be.

~~

YOUR NAME IS ITORIA APREIN.

Since you rebelled against the TRAINING CENTRES, there has ben a resolute sense of MORAL IMPORTANCE instilled inside you. You don’t think there’s anything else you can do to fulfil your need to help people than providing refuge for the goldbloods entranced by the idealistic, worrisome occupation of helmstroll. It doesn’t bore you if there are a few trolls that come and knock on your door every so often, because ANTMOM has always been around to support you, and she’s even harder a worker tham you. You’ve always wanted to redeem yourself, and realised that preventing the CERULEAN OVERSEERS from culling any more innocent lowbloods is the way to go. There’s nothing more that feels properly fulfilling than DEFENDING OTHERS WITH EVERYTHING YOU’VE GOT.

BREAKING YOUR APATHETIC SHELL has been a hard task and still is, but you’re working as hard as you can to prevent shutting away from the world. Emotional expression has always seemed like something forbidden, especially to INDIGOBLOODS like you. YOU DON’T LIKE FEELING VULNERABLE, but there’s nothing much you can do about it unless everyone just leaves you alone and without any chance to heal. DIETAS makes you feel better about expressing yourself, and you’ve developed pale affections for the little goldblood ever since you found them SCARED AND HALF-DEAD IN THE FOLIAGE. It frightened you, but now not much can. You’re a strong team, and you know they’ll be a backup when things go awry with your DEARLY DETESTED KISMESIS, TRACOR.

You use your knack and love of WIRING AND CIRCUITRY to keep everything safe, creating cameras to track the trolls in your care. You also enjoy SHOOTING DOWN SURVEILLANCE DRONES, because you’ll never truly be FREE of the Overseers and your haunting past if you don’t do something to prevent their poor, uncoordinated attempts at monitoring you. You’re glad for that bit of your unfortunate occupation, at least.

Your handle is EsotericEngineer, and yOu c△n’t seem tO seper△te yOurself frOm △ symbOl Of the life yOu left behind.

~~

YOUR NAME IS JEZAKK IMETAT.

YOUR TIME IS RUNNING OUT. There’s not much you can do about it, though, because your circus troupe’s on the rise, and the RINGMASTER is starting to get some very bad ideas of what they might do to get you to actually comply for once. There’s nothing you can say that’ll make the people around you actually stop and listen. You feel small, so you try to wear BRIGHT, FLASHY COLOURS and STRIPY TIGHTS to mimic the figures so prominent in the jack-in-the-boxes you’ve always been fond of making and tinkering around with. You have no idea when that particular fascination set in, but it keeps you distracted from worse things that might happen to you. Despite the fact that you’re a highblood, you’re younger than the other performers in the troupe and feel more vulnerable than you should be.

You’re not really meant to be in the troupe, anyway. There was a time where you assume some SEADWELLERS were hunting for food or the fun of it - none of which they need to do, you’re guessing, because of how rich they are -  and that was when you’d realised there was a harpoon broken off in SEALDAD’S side. So you saw the distant big top and ran to it, hoping that someone could help your lusus. He *was* healed, which you’re grateful beyond gratefulness for, but then… you don’t really remember. Blaring carnival lights, yellow-tinged and blinding, and then… EVERYTHING CHANGED. You never quite made it back to the sea, because the other purples started to teach you their ways, and you have an eerie feeling that they were trying to lure you into working for the ringmaster, who most of them (except for your ‘friend’ Othamo, who’s pretty fearless in a callous way) worship like a god.

Then you did, but you’re working for yourself most of the time. Wilfully disobedient. You just want to get out of the troupe, and you’ll do anything you can, but it’s been a few sweeps already. Performing with Sealdad makes you happy, and your contraptions do. So maybe it’s not so bad to stay for a little while longer. The time will come when you can make a break for it, you’re sure, just as long as you can secure an escape plan that means your lusus won’t be out of the water for too long at once.

Your handle is ClockworkCarnevale. _/[[ yOU’rE EAsIly scArEd, yOUr vOIcE gEttIng ErrAtIcAlly lOUdEr At wEIrd tImEs. bUt yOU bEt thE jAcks In yOUr bOxEs ArE fInE, sO yOU EnclOsE yOUr tExt In OnE tOO, tryIng nOt tO pAnIc. ]] ~~ YOUR NAME IS ASTRIL HURICA.

Though you suppose you go by ASTRIL ZEPHYR now. Nothing’s really worked out for you in your life, but the dastardly clairvoyant you’ve seen loitering around your ADOPTIVE DAUGHTER swears that EVERYTHING’S YOUR FAULT. She’s all wrong, of course, and you have the authority to - and half a mind to - completely banish her from the palace if she says one more thing to damage your opinion of her, which was always bad in the first place. You’re now the ‘mother’ of Cirlun, a disobedient and woefully immature fuchsiablood who was entrusted to you by virtue of your position as head of the VENERATED COUNCIL OF VIOLETS. It was disbanded many a sweep ago, with the heiress’ arrival on your sad little planet. THE COUNCIL was a committee of seadwellers with the purest blood, closest to that of a natural Aquarian, who banded together to keep the citizens of DUIIARIA (Now colloquially ‘Earth X’) from descending into anarchy. 

You don’t have the best relationship sense, being that you CULLED YOUR MOTHER at the tender age of six sweeps. You could argue that you were only small, and naive, but you were seething with unbridled resentment and RAGE, even knowing that anglerfish don’t talk and thus don’t communicate well. You’ve kept that QUIETLY MURDEROUS DISPOSITION ever since the deed was carried out, and never intend to drop it. Tyranny is the only way you know how to keep your citizens in check, and you don’t intend to learn any other way. It’s ruthlessly effective, and that’s the only standard you’ll accept. It’s probably one of the reason’s why everyone thinks you’re WICKED AND UNCOMPROMISING, even your own daughter. You’d like nothing more than to leave Cirlun to her own devices and show her just how foolish she is to want pacifism.

But now, you wait eagerly in the shadows until she reaches the appropriate age to ascend to the throne. Then you’ll truly teach her what it’s like to fight for her life, even though you never really had to in your own right. You’ve spent a long, long time trying to prepare Duiiaria for survival when up against MILITARY AND INTERGALACTIC OPPOSITION, as you want to conquer as much as you can. You’re not about to relinquish your autocratic mindset for a brat like her, even though she has the right by blood. It won’t matter so much any more if you spill it first.

Your handle is GalacticGalvaniser, and you speak As Cr1sply And D1rec7ly As You Expect Your Orders 7o Carry 7hrough 7o Your L177le C171zens. 7OUR 7EMPERAMENT CHANGES S11GH717 WHEN YOU’RE ANGR7, 7HOUGH.

~~ YOUR NAME IS CIRLUN ZEPHYR.

You’re the heiress to an empire that you want none of. You were adopted by a troll (despite having a rather pathetic and sickly lusus) after emerging from the CHOKING DARKNESS, and she won’t give you the time of day (unless it’s to mock you for your poor fighting times) so you’ve realised there’s no point in asking how. That’s the only thing you’re glad for, you suppose. The fact that she stays out of your hair is certainly good, because you’re not good in social situations or with diplomacy at all, and you have plenty of time to escape up to the palace’s extensive library. The library is the only time you get any relief from any pressure being an heiress brings.

Reading, of course, is your main form of escapism since it’s so easy to access. Nobody much minds that you while away your time in the library, save for when ASTRIL sends guards to pull you away from your latest fascination to train. Training, that is, for your imminent death at the Empress’ own hand - or trident, as it were. You don’t really know why she does train you directly, since you think that’s something you need to do for yourself, but you guess she *is* PRETTY DAMN BLOODTHIRSTY. The fact that you put up a fight makes everything that much more enjoyable, and you’d say you’re a MORE THAN SERVICEABLE fighter. So much so that you swear you’d be at the forefront of your mother’s GALACTIC ARMY had she not decided she wanted to cull you from the moment she first laid eyes on you. 

You’re pretty sheltered, being the only fuchsiablood in your timeline, but you do have a moirail (who you’re pretty sure your mother wouldn’t like at all by virtue of his being a MUTANT) that you sneak out and see under the guise of MYSTER WAEVEL, just another violetblood. Technology has made it easier for you to hide your own blood, and you’re hoping that Etoile could one day mask his as well. Inside the palace walls, LAMIAC FENRIS is your best and only friend, and you often sit with each other and talk when she’s not working. The stories she tells are mainly client complaints, but you’re lucky that the gory recounts she tells with such zeal don’t turn your stomach much. The bloodstains on her office walls don’t help. 

A lot about you is a total mystery, but that’s just the way you like it. 

Your handle is AlchemicAxolotl, named for your love of the lusus you’re NOT SUPPOSED TO HAVE. ))((oping you )(onour your biggest rolemodel - w)(o's long gone, only around in t)(e b∞ks you pour over - you've since added a little flair to your typing, and t)(ink it l∞ks a lot more personal. ~

[98prilla]

Falling Apart: Part 3

Final part of Dark Side Logan, chapter 5

Previous

A03

...

He's with everyone, when he feels the familiar tug. A bit surprising, given that no one else seems to feel it, and it makes his fragile heart beat just a bit faster.

 He feels so cracked, still.

 Everyone is being nice, everyone is making sure to spend time with him, spend time together, as groups or one on one, dark side, light side, it’s mattering less and less by the day. Instead of there being an endless chasm between the two worlds, it’s more like a two story apartment.

 When Remus appears, he's met with a small smile from Patton, a quiet hey from Virgil, and wraps him in a hug before he has a chance to say a word. He comes around more often now. Roman feels badly, for how much he scared everyone, but especially Remus. He's been spending more time with his twin, who understands him better than anyone, and these days they spend more time together than apart.

 Janus always pretends to be annoyed, visiting the light side, even though he’s the one that chose to stop by. He’s spending more time with Virgil, the two of them mending whatever fence had been broken. Often, he finds them in the living room, Virgil curled against Janus, eyes closed, if not fully asleep, Janus smiling softly as he pets Virgil's hair. It’s sweet, he thinks. Makes him think of Patton.

 Patton has been making an effort, too. Not just inviting the others up for dinners or movie nights, but going downstairs, playing board games, debating, in a constructive way, with Dee, or listening to Ambition. Working with all of them to find a healthier balance of work and self care, both for Thomas and all of them.

 It’s… good.

 For the first time in a long time, things feel good. Everyone is being heard.

 Which is why this call makes him afraid, because he hasn’t spoken to Thomas since he’d fallen apart in front of him, and he’s doing better now, too, but the wounds are still there, still a barely a closed scab over his heart, and he feels… raw.

 “Roman?” He looks up at the question in Virgil's voice, he no doubt can feel the anxiety prickling under his skin.

 “Thomas. He's calling me.” He answers. Virgil nods, slipping his headphones off his ears, around his shoulders.

 Patton and Janus are in the kitchen, having a baking competition (who knew Dee had a guilty pleasure for cooking shows, his favorite, of course, being Cutthroat Kitchen?), Virgil is sitting on the steps, listening to his music and meditating. Ambition is on the couch, reading a book, softly discussing it with Remus, and he himself is sitting on the floor in front of the table, coloring idly while listening to Ambition, occasionally asking a question or adding his input. He can feel Ambition's surprise and spark of happiness each time he does, proving he's been listening to every word, and he wishes he'd started listening sooner.

 But there's no point in regrets, just in doing better, which is what he's been trying to convince himself of.

 “I suggest you go answer him, then.” Ambition replies evenly, though he can hear the soft concern in his voice.

 “I should.” He says, making no move to leave, and he feels Remus squeeze his shoulder.

 “It’s ok, Ro. I promise. It’ll be good.” He sighs at that soft assurance, pushing himself to his feet. He doesn’t know if Remus is right or not, but he knows not going now will only make his own anxiety worse. Like a band aid. Just gotta rip it off and pray the sting fades. “And if it isn’t, I’ll haunt his nightmares!” Remus adds cheerily.

 “You'll do that regardless, you insufferable gremlin.” He says fondly, ruffling Remus's hair, grinning, sinking out before Remus can retaliate, hearing Ambition laugh at the squawking duke. 

He sinks up into the living room. No dramatic flourish or loud sing song declaration, his voice seems stuck in his throat, and he feels oh so small again.

 “Hey, bud.” He looks up, a bit surprised to see Thomas sitting on the couch, wearing comfy clothes and chilling out, a soft smile on his lips.

 “Hello.” He replies, a bit strained, a bit awkward.

 “Wanna come hang out?” He furrows his brow, plucking at his sweater. He's wearing the Christmas one, he hasn’t put his prince outfit back on yet. He doesn’t feel like he's earned it. Like he is a prince.

 “Why?” he asks, watching Thomas closely as he frowns slightly, clearly thinking over his words carefully.

 “Because I've been hurting you without noticing, and that needs to stop. I care about you, Roman, and I… haven’t been very good at showing it, lately. I’m sorry.” He shakes his head, walking quickly to the couch, kneeling before Thomas, taking one of his hands. A knight swearing fealty to his noble.

 “You don’t have anything to be sorry for. I should be better than this, that’s the problem, is I’m not, I’ve never been… good enough. You’re so… amazing, Thomas, you can accomplish so, so much, but I’m just not good enough to get you there. Maybe if it were still King, maybe if there were only one of us, but alone, I can’t, and I’m the one who’s so, so sorry.”

 Thomas is looking down at him, brown eyes surprised, as he fumbles for words. He settles on leaning forwards, wrapping his arms around Roman's neck in an all encompassing hug. His breath hitches, and suddenly he’s crying, burying his face against Thomas.

 “oh, buddy. I’ve really broken you, huh?” Thomas murmurs, slipping off the couch and onto the floor with him, rubbing up and down his back, hugging him closer.

 “I’m so-rry. I t-try so hard but it's not enough and I d-don't kn-know what else I can do.” He stutters out, pressing tighter against Thomas's shoulder, feeling guilty for accepting this comfort, this contact, he’s supposed to be the strong one, supposed to be the defender, not the one falling apart.

 “I know, God Roman, I know, I can feel it, everyday I can feel how hard you try and it’s not your fault, you are always good enough, you are always enough. I know how much you give up, I know how utterly selfless you are, I know how hard you try to cover up all your fears and flaws and that’s fine, but it’s fine to be hurting, too, it’s fine to be sad, it’s fine to be selfish. It’s ok to fight for yourself, Roman, not just for me.” He lets the touch soothe him, lets his tears slowly stop, though he doesn't move from where he's practically curled against Thomas.

 “It isn’t. Not when I fail. At everything I do, I fail. Every romance, every audition, every dream and hope and goal, I have failed. I failed to look out for Remus, I failed to accept Deceit, I failed to reach out to Logan, I failed to be kind to Virgil, I failed them, I failed you, I’m a failure.” Thomas pulls back, hands on his shoulders, fiery warmth in his eyes that he knows used to be reflected in his own. But his fire has burned low, barely an ember, and that aching tiredness is back in his bones. “you deserve so much better.”

 “No. Roman, you’re my hero.” He jolts at those words, denials ready to fall from his lips, but Thomas shakes his head, forcing Roman to look up, look at him. “you are. You are not a failure. You are the reason I go to every audition, the reason I make my own videos, the reason I have the amazing career and life that I have. You are the reason I have all my friends, because you push me to talk, to meet new people, to be spontaneous. You’re the reason I dream big, the reason I sing for no reason, the reason I doodle, the reason I love art of all kinds. All my passion and dreams and love! How could you ever have failed me, when you’ve given me all of that? When you continue to give everything you are, even when it’s tearing you to pieces. Even when you’re so hurt, you still try and smile and lighten my mood, and act brave and strong even when you feel anything but. You make me better, Roman. You make me happy. Even at your worst, I love you. I will always love you and need you and want you. You’re my hero, Roman. You are.”

 He can’t breathe. It feels like his lungs are on fire, and he finally sucks in a breath, something tight in his chest unknotting itself at Thomas’s declaration, the cold, hard pit of despair and self loathing starts to lighten, and he's gasping in air like a man nearly drowned because for the first in time in nearly a week he can breathe again.

 He lets his head thump forwards, forehead resting against Thomas's chest as he exhales a huge, shuddering breath, letting Thomas rub up and down his arms to ground him. He’s not crying, exactly, it’s somewhere between euphoria and crushing doubt, gasping and shaking as he tries to steady himself.

 “Roman? You ok?” He’s not, not yet, not really, but he’s better, he’s so, so much better, but he can’t find the words to express what it feels like to have this incredible weight lifted from his shoulders, these shackles he hadn’t even realized he’d chained himself to, to be released, and it’s impossible to remember the last time he felt this light, this almost dazzlingly happy.

 “Yes. Just… tired. The normal kind, not… not the existential dread kind.” He replies, smiling at Thomas’s small laugh, more weight freeing itself from the pit of his stomach at that sound, a small reflection of how he himself feels. “thank you.” He whispers.

 “Always, Ro. I’m here for you, alright? If you’re not feeling heard, if we’re being too harsh instead of constructive, if you just need to talk, I’m here.” He pulls back finally, wiping at his eyes, unable to help the grin on his face, feeling a thousand beams of light shining inside his chest at how Thomas grins right back, warm, soft, care and hope in his eyes. “Another thing. I know you work hard, for me, too hard, for your own good, sometimes. I know creating things is literally your role, but it doesn’t always have to be your job, y’know? It… it should be fun. It should be something we love doing, even when we are doing it for the show, or a video, or whatever. So, we’re going to start writing together, okay? Anything we want, anything we think of, no matter how silly or nonsensical or stupid it is, even if it doesn’t have a plot, even if it’s just word vomit on the page. Just… doing it together, to do something together. For fun. Yeah?” He almost breaks, he can feel tears threatening again, because god, when was the last time he felt this happy, this stupid with joy, because Thomas is right, he misses questing for fun, not frustration, he misses writing short stories or poems, not panicking over late scripts or forcing ideas. He misses writing or drawing whatever comes to mind, instead of narrowing his scope so specifically he can’t find a single idea in his sea of millions. And to do that, with Thomas, together? They’re going to make worlds upon worlds of curious, wonderful, quirky creatures. He’s already more excited for this than he has been for anything else in years, already ideas are springing to mind, and he loves it.

 “yes. Please, yes.” He near whispers, afraid this is a dream, afraid this is a wonderful, beautiful dream, that will shatter any second along with his heart. “I would really, really love that.” Thomas beams at him again, slipping back up onto the couch, patting the cushion next to him.

 “Cool. Good, I didn’t want to pressure you, but I’m kinda super excited about it.” He laughs, sitting next to Thomas, realizing Kingdom Hearts is pulled up on the screen, the very first one, and he sees Thomas looking at him out of the corner of his eye, with that silly, stupid grin.

 “What is it Thomas the dank engine?” He asks, borrowing one of Patton’s nick names. Thomas shakes his head, grin growing somehow wider, grabbing the controller.

 “It’s just good to see you looking like… you again, Princey.” He looks down, realizing he’s unconsciously shifted himself back into his prince attire, katana and all, and he dramatically sighs, leaning back into the cushions.

 “Yes, well, a prince’s work is never done. For now, we must vanquish the vile villainous, the darkest shadow, the mistress of all evil herself! FOR DISNEY!” He cries, brandishing his weapon, Thomas snorting, laughing.

 “Dude, she’s like one of the last bosses we fight. We’ll get to Hades waaaay before her.”

 “Well, it’s the intention that counts. ONWARDS!” He cries, Thomas shaking his head fondly as he presses start, both of them on the edge of their seats even though they already know by heart what is about to happen, bantering back and forth over the dialogue, doing their best impressions of the characters to read their dialogue.

 It’s fun and silly and stupid, and every moment of it is a balm to his sore and broken heart, until by the time he returns to his room, far, far later than he should, well past midnight, he is smiling and his stomach aches from laughing, and he suspects that’s the reason none of the others fetched him sooner, told him or Thomas to go to bed, because his laughter had echoed through the mindscape for the first time in months.

 He feels solid, again.

 He feels right, again.

 And the next morning, when Patton wakes slowly to the smell of waffles and bacon, and he stumbles into the hall, running into Virgil, who holds a finger to his lips, tilting his head towards the kitchen, he stays silent, first out of confusion, then out of awe and relief strong enough to bring tears to his eyes, as he finally realizes what he’s hearing.

 Singing. For the first time in nearly four months, Roman is shamelessly, joylessly, singing.

[miss-tc-nova]

Ursine Ire - Hermod x Fem!Reader

I’ve been dying to do something with Hermod and his temper, so here it is! And I think I’ve finally got my chaos in check for a while, so hopefully I can get another fic or two out before Christmas rolls around. Also, sorry this one feels a little more straightforward than most of my stuff. 

~~~~~

              I’m late! I’m so late! They’re gonna kill me!

              Feet hit the stone path as fast as I can manage without blindly running into innocent bystanders—though there were a few close calls.

              Today, my friends and I are off to see a production Vor and Urd have been demanding we all attend—I was supposed to meet them half an hour ago. Now I’m racing like a rabbit from a dog praying I don’t have to face the wrath of the female wielders.

              Rounding a corner, my heart, just like my foot, skips when I nearly collide with the crowd I’ve let down.

              An outstretched arm intercepts me before I can crash. “Woah! Slow down!”

              Hermod, my boyfriend and the reason I have a great group of new friends, pulls me upright. Steadied by my grip on his haori, I heave so hard my lungs might just fall on the concrete.

              “And here we thought you’d forgotten,” teases the red-head. When I can’t stop gasping, Bragi tacks on, “Geeze, I thought Eraqus was Tardy Fleetfoot.”

              Said ‘Fleetfoot’ leans down. “Are you okay?”

              One more breath gives me my voice back. “I’m so sorry I’m late! I was reading a book and I lost track of time! When I looked at the clock, I freaked out and ran all the way here! I’m so sorry!”

              Soft chuckling brings my attention to the young man with an arm still around me. “It’s alright. We’ve still got some time,” he chuckles. A dip of his head connects his lips to my forehead, washing over that anxiety with a sweet serenity.

              “Cut it out, you two,” Urd insists, clearly not pleased by my tardiness. My boyfriend leans back, still happy but with a tad bit of sheepish mixed in. “That time we have is not enough for you to make out. If we don’t get going, we’ll miss the show.”

              “It might already be sold out!” little blond Vor exclaims.

              “Then let’s get a move on,” urges the boy in black.

              The group agrees and scampers through the streets towards the theater. When we get there, we see the mass of people shuffling into the stadium.

              “Okay, Vor and I will get the tickets,” insists the taller girl, holding her hand out expectantly.

              The boys rifle through pockets, but when I notice Hermod doing the same, I take his sleeve.

              “I’m paying this time,” I say.

              “Oh, it’s alright. I don’t mind.”

              “I don’t care if you mind. You paid for the last date; it’s my turn.” His mouth opens to argue. “Don’t make me ask nicely.”

              As it so happens, my asking Hermod ‘nicely’ is actually giving him the best puppy eyes I can, letting my bottom lip slip forward just a little, and saying please. My poor teddy bear has yet to refine any resistance to this technique. Due to this unfair trump card, I reserve it for dire occasions but sometimes just its mention is enough to tilt things in my favor.

              Shoulders slouch. “Fine.”

              Victoriously smiling, I place a peck against his cheek and scurry after the girls. As we chat, a peculiar couple comes up behind us. The woman tears into the man about them not showing up on time—I kind of feel sorry for him. Even so, their conflict is so unbearably awkward that it completely silences the light-hearted conversation we’d been having. There’s only a single person in front of us, but they cannot move fast enough to get us away from this disaster. Thankfully, after Urd gets her batch of tickets, the man sends the woman away, leaving the queue in an uncomfortable silence.

              Vor grabs hers next and bustles away while I quickly purchase mine. About halfway between the ticket booth and my friends, a hand takes my shoulder: it’s the man.

              “Uh…can I help you?” I ask, disquiet quickly simmering in my gut.

              “Yeah, actually, you bought the last two tickets. Mind if I take them?” There’s not even a trace of politeness in his words—it’s more like a statement than a request.

              Eyes dart to the group gossiping not that far away. I point in their direction. “Actually, I’m here to see the show with my friends. Sorry.”

              Anger rivaling the woman’s snaps into place. “So what. They can tell you about it later. Give me those tickets!”

              Not exactly a fighter myself, I step back. As I do, he reaches for me.

              A flash of green swipes up, swatting the grasping hand away. My boyfriend has come to save me with suspicion written across his face.

              “Is there a problem here?”

              “It’s none of your business,” growls the man.

              Slate eyes turn on me and I tell him, “He wants our tickets.”

              “And you paid for them?” I nod. Ever polite, the young man says, “I’m sorry, sir, but you can’t have our tickets. Please excuse us.” He turns back to me. “Come on. The show’s starting.”

              Relief takes over too soon when a fist appears around my wrist. So tight is the grasp that my hand quavers and I’m certain there will be bruising. This sudden spike of pain draws a yelp from my mouth that the heckler doesn’t acknowledge as he jerks me closer.

              In the next instant, I’m free. In the same manner, a hand crushes the thug’s wrist. An existential dread rolls over me and the man seems to realize he’s made a mistake.  

              I’ve always described my soft Hermod as a bear: he’s the biggest sweetheart, always looking out for me, and as cuddly as one might expect. However, another reason my brain thinks of a bear when concerning my boyfriend is his rage. He has a saintly patience; it takes something truly serious to push him to anger—something like assaulting his girlfriend—and when he reaches that point, he is terrifying. I’ve only ever seen this one other time when he was having a truly miserable day. He apologized afterwards but I will never forget the fury he exhumed, almost as if he were another person. He is the embodiment of a bear, anger and all.

              “Hermod!” Vor shouts.

              “Hold on there, Brother Bear!” Bragi appears and places a hand on the threatening arm.

              “How dare you,” Hermod snarls lowly, ignoring his friends. Barely veiled violence hides in his eyes. “She is under no obligation to give you anything and her refusal to do so gives you no right to put your hands on her.” I see his grip tighten, bringing the assailant to his knees. “Now apologize.”

              There’s resistance but a further constricting grip accompanied by bared teeth coerce a response. “S-Sorry!”

              Hermod’s hold releases, signaling that his uncertain classmates can relax.

              “You’d do well to learn some manners,” growls the irate boy. With that, an arm gently ushers me away from the scene. Every bit of that tense anger can be felt in his shielding arm. Anxiety bubbles in my chest but I follow without fuss.

              Only a few steps away and the man shows us he’s learned nothing. A boot to the back of my knee messes up my balance. My elbow scrapes across the ground though I’m far more concerned with the ensuing roar. Peering back reveals a frenzied Hermod swinging his keyblade. The weapon strikes the man hard enough to send him across the clearing into a brick wall where he crumples to the ground. Only three straining boys stop the young man from resuming his rampage.

              “DON’T YOU FUCKING COME NEAR HER AGAIN!” My jaw drops—I’ve never heard Hermod utter a single curse word in all our time dating, even on his worst days.

              The girls dash for the downed man. Urd exclaims, “He’s out cold!”

              “I WILL DESTROY YOU! DO YOU HEAR ME?!”

              “He can’t hear anything!” Xehanort shouts.

              “You got ‘im!” adds Bragi. “He’s done!”

              Their words fall on deaf ears as the fight to get at his foe floods Hermod’s mind. It’s frightening, far worse than the last time I saw him like this. If the others let him go, who knows what he’d do to that man—I can’t even guarantee murder would be off the table.

              As I watch the struggle, his name barely escapes my mouth. “Hermod.”

              Nothing changes; he’s still fighting—fighting to defend me.

              This is for me…

              Shoving off the ground, I rush to help the boys. Fists snag handfuls of the haori and push against his chest.

              “Hermod, stop! Please!”

              It all freezes; only heavy pants from the four boys breaks the silence. Almost afraid of what I might find, I peek up at my boyfriend’s face—it’s blank, like a chalkboard wiped clean. I don’t know if this makes me relieved or worried.

              Vor breaks the silence with an announcement. “Guys, he might need a doctor.”

              The wary boys release their classmate and Xehanort leans towards Bragi. “We’ll take care of the moron; you get these two someplace they can calm down.”

              “Good plan.” A palm to the chest pushes the impassive boy back. “Alright Brother Bear, let’s get outta here. You too, chickadee, come on.”

              Bragi steers the two of us down the street away from the mess we left. Silence stirs the distress I’d been boiling throughout the ordeal; I’m unable to stop ruminating on images of that fury.

              At the student dorms where the keyblade wielders train, our chaperone branches off. He leaves us in the entrance hall, still stifled in quiet, but returns rather quickly.

              “Yo, Hermod.” He shoves a box into the taller boy’s arms. “You might wanna patch up your girlfriend.”

              A light finally sparks in his eyes and Hermod turns on me. “Are you okay?”

              This is my Hermod and it’s almost alarming how this gentle giant could turn into something so vicious.

              “Yeah,” I mumble.

              That pain adds to my uncertainty, but it all goes out the window when my feet leave the ground. Too stunned to do anything about it, I let Hermod carry me through the halls of the student dorms; I do, however, flinch when his door flies open and closes with another slam. Hermod’s back hits the wall and he slumps to the floor, still clinging to me.

              “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he murmurs into my shoulder.

              It takes a moment to gather my words. “That…That was pretty scary,” I whisper back.

              “I know and you deserve to be mad at me. I was out of line and I wasn’t thinking, but when he…”

              I already know why it happened, not that it makes it any better. Still, Hermod’s actions were for my sake; I don’t condone what he did but that man made it clear he wasn’t giving up without a fight. My boyfriend was protecting me.

              “Thank you.” Those slate eyes give me a perturbed look. I let the corners of my mouth turn up. “For sticking up for me.”

              Gods, I wanted to make him feel better, not add to that misery. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

              “I know.” I brush the hair from his face. “You’re such a sweetheart. But maybe next time we don’t knock someone unconscious with our keyblade.”

              He let’s a guilty sigh escape him, dropping his gaze. “I’m so sorry.”

              A finger leads his gaze back to me. “I forgive you. And I’m sorry I put you in that position.”

              Again, his face hides against me. “It’s not your fault.” Pushing him back, I take his face in my hands and raise a brow; he gets the hint. “But I forgive you.”

              “I love you, Hermod,” I say, running circles across his cheeks with my thumbs.

              There’s the smile I’ve been looking for. “I love you too.”

              Content with the response, I kiss him. It’s short but oh so sweet—they always are with Hermod. I’d spend hours on end kissing him if there weren’t other matters to attend to.

              “Hermod?”

              “Hmm?” It’s a dreamy, peaceful sort of hum.

              “Who taught you the F word?” My accusations are mostly in jest but the results are perfectly entertaining. My gentle teddy bear bursts into a blush and begins stammering like a fool. “It was Bragi, wasn’t it?”

              “I—I—you—wh—”

              “I’m only teasing,” I sing, pinching at his cheeks. “Now fix my elbow please.”

              This vexed sigh comes with an adoring smile as he reaches for the first aid kit.

[teliangel]

In Memento Mori

Author’s note:

Alright, so, I’m not in the habit of posting my writing here, so if I’m formatting wrong, someone feel free to yell at me. This is a short work of fiction in response to @holdyourbreathfornow​ ‘s thought exercise here that apparently I connected with so strongly I proceeded to have a nightmare about it that I woke up crying from, and @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors​, who is the creator of Love and Other Fairytales . Thank you for letting me play in your sand box, I’m sorry for setting it on fire.

PLEASE NOTE, if you haven’t read LAOFT this isn’t gonna make a lick of sense, so go read that, get emotionally steamrolled, then come back to be emotionally sucker punched by this slugger. Also this is set roughly after the boys get married but before Linda was a thing, because murder is ok but orphaning children is not in my mind apparently.

TWs: Major character death, murder, prolonged existential dread, pondering the death of loved ones, angst, hurt with absolutely no comfort, torture (unintentional and non explicit but still there) brief descriptions of serious injuries, and just all the bad feelings. Let me know if I missed anything!

Parings: LAMP, mentions of Toby/Greta

Virgil had been preparing for his husbands' deaths since the first moment he had met them. He couldn't help it. It was an unspoken truth between them most of the time, how many people he'd lost, how many more he now had to lose. Still, the fact remained that he spent much of his time thinking of their inevitable departure and how he could endure it.

Roman's death was something he had come to terms with even before he'd met the man, back when he was little more than a child coming to chatter at the tear-spun coffin that held the prince. Virgil had never really believed he'd be free. It hadn't made sense to put hope in the hopeless, so as Roman grew and his voice deepened and time stretched forward in its usual merciless crawl, Virgil had started in bits and pieces to grieve that he'd never get to know the man Roman would become. He'd be yet another Fisher-turned-Gage who would keep him company for but a while only to some day never return, buried with his family before they could ever meet.

But when Roman had broken the coffin and woken him, that hadn't eased the grief that curled dark and patient at the edge of his thoughts. He was reckless as an adult, nearly as much so as when he was a child, noble, and self-sacrificing to a fault. Virgil knew a martyr when he saw one, and he suspected from the beginning that he was likely to bury Roman young, or younger than necessary, at least. Their witch would stand between them and any possible harm without hesitation, with no thought of himself, and there was only one way that could end.

Patton's inevitable end was distinctly harder to accept. Not because Virgil loved any of his husbands more than the other (that was a bit like asking if he had a preference for his lungs over his heart) but more because the thought of Patton being gone was bit like going to bed and waking up the next day to be told the sun was stolen away never to be seen again. Patton was all things good and warm, a bright light in all the bleak, and it was hard not to imagine a vacuum opening up in space, shuddering at the sudden loss of well-being in the world.

If Roman was a tragic inevitably, all the more sorrowful for its expectedness, Patton was a juddering, shocked intake at the abrupt wrongness left behind.

And Logan. Oh, Logan, his sweet Spring.

Forever wasn't really a term Virgil found himself thinking in anymore. He had tied his life into too many heres and nows to allow him to think of 'always' in the way he used to. But Logan was his compliment, his imperfect reflection, alike in his dissimilarity to everything else. With Logan there was a hint of that 'always' in the way it once was to Virgil. But that didn't mean that he didn't grieve his third husband with the same ferocity as he did the other two. He had to, had to let that part of his heart wallow in the sadness of it all, so that when the day came that he was alone again he could bear it without being consumed and crushed.

So he imagined what it would be like to be without Logan, and he could only think of it as being robbed of a sense, his eyes or ears gone, leaving only a ringing gap, a darkness where there was something before. There would be no more like but not alike, no more simply understood by nature of being not-human, no calm compliment to his impatience, no more affectionate mutual pestering when ruling became too much.

Yet in all his dreary pondering of death and how he might survive his losses, Virgil never stopped to consider and come to terms with his own death.

It was stupid. So stupid. Such a stupid, stupid way to die, so easily prevented.

Virgil and Logan had been leaving the court, a long day of half-truths and forced pleasantries and barely concealed threats cut loose behind them as they went to meet Roman and Patton in the clearing, their clearing, for a well earned picnic. Virgil had pulled them through the shadows, both he and Logan agreeing that they were tired enough that neither was in the mood to walk.

There was a hunter. Someone from out of town. Maybe he was lost, who knew. Virgil hadn't noticed him, hadn't been paying attention, and for what little life he had left he would most certainly not forgive himself for being so careless. They must have startled him. Virgil had never seen what moving through the shadows looked  like from an outside perspective, but Patton had very reliably informed him that it was rather unsettling to watch. It was easy to imagine that two fae appearing like that, with no attempt at a glamour between them, would be alarming. Virgil barely had time to register the click of a trigger, turn, and with loud bang he was flat on his back, clearly able to feel a small disk of iron wedged in his right lung. Above the ringing in his ears he heard Logan shout, only to be cut off with another bang and a whimper. Virgil desperately wanted to call out to him, to know how he'd been hurt, but he couldn't get enough air in his rended lung and all that came out was a burbling gurgle.

Then came the worst bit.

Virgil could feel his body trying to knit itself back together again and again, unable to do so around the poisonous bullet buried in his body, but incapable of ceasing to do as it was designed to. He bled slow, so slow, body paralyzed under the weight of cursed metal not even the size of his thumb. It might have been funny, if he could get in enough air to laugh. Toby might have found this all interesting, he always liked practical solutions to magical situations, though Virgil never thought he'd use such a preference to try and hurt him. Goodness, he missed his brother-in-law dearly at the moment.

He could hear shouting over the buzzing in his skull, and familiar calloused hands gently tilted his head up to rest on rough jeans and comfortable thighs, and he sighed in shaky relief to once again be resting somewhere familiar. There was nothing to be done, he knew. No spell, no surgery would fix this, so he simply looked up into his lover's face and let himself be comforted at the sight of him. He was so pretty. Hair a fiery, copper halo in the late afternoon sun, warm as his furnace hot skin. Virgil only wished Roman would stop crying so he could admire his lovely green eyes for the last time. He did so love his eyes.

More than anything he wanted to reach up  and touch his witch's face, comfort him, but was like a safe had been dropped on his chest and he was left weak and heavy from the weight of it.

On the edge of his perception he could hear Patton chanting softly. It took a moment to focus enough to make out what he was saying, but Virgil could just barely hear "-up, wake up, wake up, wake UP-" and oh, he had to see.

Gradually, in increments, he turned his head to the side to see Patton, rocking side to side, with Logan's head tucked under his chin, body sprawled across the ground at an awkward angle. Right between his perfect brows was a neat little hole oozing brackish blood. Some guilty part of Virgil felt relieved. That would have been quick, easy. His body wouldn't have had time to try and heal itself the way Virgil's had. He wouldn't have been in pain. Fighting the leaden weight of his limbs he slid his arm across the grass, long fingers brushing lightly against Logan's still ones. They were so cold, not the usual summer rain warm he was used to, and he let out a distinctly inhuman warble as his chest spasmed in protest. Patton answered in a very human-yet-not-at-all wail, and Virgil winced in sympathy as both his and Logan's glasses cracked in response. Everything was getting rather fuzzy at this point. Virgil blinked sluggishly, humming reassuringly when he felt Patton's hand joining Romans' tight in his hair. It probably should have hurt, but it didn't, and he wouldn't have minded even if it did. In all his pondering of death, Virgil had tried not to think much on what happened to whatever was left of a person when their body was too damaged to carry them any longer. But he liked to think that whatever was next, oblivion or something else, that humans and fae and every other living thing went to the same place. Then he could see Greta, and Toby, and not-so-little Trudi, and Oma, and all his lovers again someday.

He sighed in shaky relief at the thought.

"I'll . . . see you . . .soon?" He managed to push out as he gazed up at Roman, voice just this side of pleading.

Everything faded to gentle dark before he heard the reply, though.

[thatgirlonstage]

Webcomic Recs!

I read a lot of webcomics (although never enough). I recommend them individually sometimes, but thought it might be worth it to have a list of recs for different moods/kinds of comics people might be looking for :D

NB: I am not current on all of these webcomics; some of them I may be far behind on.

If at least one person doesn’t wield a sword, what even is the Point?

Awaken — Piras Dameschi, an impulsive redheaded rich kid on track to become a knight of Nova, instead finds himself joining a terrorist group that uses flux to fight abominations

Namesake — Emma Crewe is plunged into a world of magic when she discovers that she is a namesake: a person with the power to travel between magical worlds we know from myths and folktales. Meanwhile, back on Earth, her sister Elaine discovers her powers as a Writer to bring stories to life.

Nimona [Complete] — a young girl with shapeshifting powers becomes a villain’s apprentice. Nimona is no longer fully available for free online, but you can read the first three chapters as a preview before deciding if you would like to purchase a copy

Cucumber Quest — Cucumber is reluctantly the hero destined to defeat the Nightmare Knight and his henchmen. Almond, his much more adventure-happy sister, takes the lead on their quest.

Paranatural — bust a gut laughing at Zack Morrison’s flawless humor in this comic about a group of children taking on ghosts, spirits, shadowy organizations, and the horrors of middle school. [Full rec post here]

Agents of the Realm — a diverse group of college women become magical girls

I’m gay and would like some Soft Gay Content™ about people loving and supporting each other

Always Human [Complete] — two girls fall in love in a future  where “mods” make it possible to alter your appearance instantly

Heartstopper – openly gay over-thinker Charlie finds a close friend and eventually falls hard for Nick, a cheerful and soft-hearted rugby player

Springtime of Yuuth — Yuu quickly develops a crush on Ren, the new boy at his school

Balderdash! or, a tale of two witches — two witches away from home meet in a small town as they try to follow their own paths in life

I have adopted twenty children and would die instantly for any of them

Paranatural — see above

Cucumber Quest — see above

Demon Street — after some neighborhoods vanish off the face of the Earth and leave portals to another world in their place, Raina goes looking for her family, Sep goes exploring, and Kate and Celine build new lives in a city of monsters and magic

Beyond the Canopy — a young Sprigg named Glenn, searching for adventure, finds himself caught up in a struggle over an artifact known as the Forest Remnant, fighting and fleeing from skeletons, scarecrows, patchwork creatures, and more

Namesake — see above

I am best entertained by the thrill of nightmare fuel, angst, and existential dread

Please heed warnings, these comics all deal with dark themes and may feature graphic content

The Boy Who Fell — Undertale meets Hunger Games in hell. Ren, a shy and quiet human, falls into hell and must fight in a dangerous tournament for the chance to go home

Ava’s Demon — Ava is a young girl haunted by a demon seeking revenge against Titan, a tyrant who controls most of the universe

Damn it all to Hell — a recently-begun comic about a boy who summons a demon to make his crush fall in love with him

Nimona [Complete] — see above

Wilde Life — Oscar Wilde moves to Podunk, Oklahoma, where his new housemate is the ghost of a 1940s mathematician, a werewolf turns up at his door, and he befriends a witch

I like fantasy/sci-fi but I’m tired of massive end-of-the-world battles

Always Human [Complete] — see above

Aerial Magic — follows the daily life of a newly apprenticed witch

Wilde Life — see above

Balderdash! or, a tale of two witches — see above

Monsterkind — Wallace Foster is a human social worker trying his best to help the monster inhabitants of District C

List subject to expansion or alteration as I add to the too-long list of comics I read. Enjoy!

[keepyourpantsongohan]

Ayesha Liveblogs Free! S1-S2

Good lord there are really only five English VAs huh 

I appreciate the level of existential dread it takes to sit in a bathtub in a bathing suit 

Apron designers I have some questions!!! Firstly: Whomst?

“Anything has magical properties if you believe hard enough” I love Nagisa

“What can I say, I’m a romantic” so what I’m gathering is that Haru and Rin were small and in love with each other

Update from one minute later: Angry with each other now, I guess? 

That’s right Haru you wear that swimsuit all day!!! But wash it bc that’s not a breathable fabric trust me you’re asking for trouble 

“You only live once so do what you want” Dghdfjghjkhkjdf I can’t believe that Amakata’s contribution to this disciplinary lecture amounts to “yolo”

Makoto really knows how to get Haru to do things he doesn’t want to do all he’s gotta do is whisper “pool” and there he is

“What is wrong with you” I hope that Haru continues to strip to reveal his swimsuit no matter where they are throughout this anime. The doctor’s office. A dog park. The mall. Pls let this be a trope

What the shit is this Arabian nights outro this is a Japanese high school swim anime lmao

There’s a joke to be made about the visual metaphor of Haru needing to quench his thirst in the ending but I’ll refrain 

How do their teachers keep finding out about their trespassing who is telling on these boys

What is Ms. Amakata’s previous job what kind of swim job could possibly be inappropriate to talk about at school

Omg Kou is so thirsty for swim boys and while I can’t really relate I appreciate her enthusiasm 

HARU’S STRIPPING AT THE FISH STORE THEY REALLY COMMITTED TO THE “I’LL SWIM ANYWHERE” TROPE I LOVE IT

“I promised myself that I’d never wear a swimsuit again” omg she was a swimsuit model

So Haru quit swimming because Rin is a sore loser? Suspect and lame

“No, come back, you’ll die!” Makoto is truly the highlight of this show and the friend Haru needs

Haru pls I’m weeping

Amakata: They might approve your request [if you win a swimming competition] 

Haru, already taking off his clothes: LET’S GET TO WORK

“He’s just like us! He’s a guy, but he’s got a girly name!” What kind of dumbass logic for deciding who joins your swim team Nagisa lmao 

“You talk about Haru a lot” Hahaha it’s bad form to bring up other people you admire when you’re flirting Nagisa, Rei is Offended™

Ffdhkdshfkhfkj he hasn’t gotten in the water yet but I’m pretty sure Rei can’t fucking swim

“That would’ve meant admitting defeat, and I’m not adept at that” okay I love Rei too this ensemble cast is so funny

Rei’s so cute omg his small and betrayed “but why” when he can’t float

Is it truly an anime without a rivalry-friendship with blatant homoerotic overtones

Oh wow that’s a weird thing for Rin’s sister to have to watch lmao

“Let the water guide you” “Could you try to be less abstract about this” I’m giggling at Haru just throwing out platitudes and hoping one sticks

“I’ll have you know that I have the constitution of a samurai” Rei you are by far the best part of this show so far

Wait a hot minute what in the hell happened in the ocean why do you have to say it like that Haru

Really if any Haru’s relationships are going to err on the side of romantic it should probably be with Makoto because they’re like actually friends and support each other lmao

I don’t know what’s wilder about this scene Makoto using his trauma to convince Haru to swim relay or the Gaze™ that follows

“You’d be the newlywed couple that gets killed in the first five minutes” HMMMM newlywed couple huh

This episode is soooo cute I love the boys bonding together in starlight

Wow was Rin’s problem with Haru just latent daddy issues all along I completely misread this situation

WAIT WAS RIN’S DAD ONE OF THE PEOPLE WHO DIED ON THE FISHERMAN’S BOAT

“It’s hard to explain, that’s just the way they are” “What’s that supposed to mean” people are gay, Rei

Why do the people on this show have such weird interpersonal relationships do you really need to hold Rin’s ankles for this conversation, Aiichiro

Regardless of her thirst Kou is really the best manager they could ask for

 “I will relish destroying you” okay calm down Swimsuit Sasuke

“This victory means I never have to swim with you again. Ever” were you not the one constantly harassing Haru for competitions???? What’s your problem Rin!!!

Haru looking at Mako like swimming has meaning again I don’t care if this is friendship or romance THAT’S LOVE BITCH

“It’s not that easy in real life huh” a weirdly realistic turn of events

Honestly Haru what a mood I never want anyone to contact me either

God could Mako and Haru’s relationship stop being the cutest in the world? This sleeping in the hallway for Haru to come home will not stand! Thanks

“Why is an amateur like that swimming with them?” BECAUSE THEY’RE NICE AND LIKE EACH OTHER, RIN

THEY WON!!!!!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH I LOVE THEM

“That’s what you’re supposed to say if you arrive early for a date” IWATOBI SWIM TEAM DOUBLE DATE CONFIRMED (as if the outfits were not confirmation enough)

Gfgkfugkfg Rei is so put out Nagisa will not acknowledge his “exsquidsite” pun

This Rin/Haru/Mako dynamic could not be more like Ex-Boyfriend vs. New Boyfriend I’m wheezing 

“Hah, I’m a ninja” REI YOU’RE SO STUPID I LOVE YOU

“I hope he’s okay” Aiichiro is a better pal that Rin deserves this is such a one-sided friendship lmao

AW REI FEELS LEFT OUT OF THE MEMORIES POOR GUY

Is Rei gonna go pick a fight with Rin because I’d kind of be up for that

“I wanted to know what your feelings are towards Haru” Dad Mode Activated you will not hurt Rei’s buddies

“Don’t get in the way. If you do, I will never forgive you,” damn Rei!!! You’re not even his friend but those words packed a wallop

I like that each of these swim team boys has a friend whom they are closest to it’s nice and balanced

“Every single member of this team is irreplacable” LOVE AND SUPPORT!

I can’t tell if Rin invited Rei out to this ominous night meeting as overture of friendship or as a threat

Aiichiro get a new friend!!! You don’t deserve to be treated this way

AHHHHHHHHHHH REI YOU’RE SO GOOD “I feel the exact same way” you empathetic sweetheart <3 

WOW I do NOT approve of this Rin treats everyone like garbage for twelve straight episodes and then they reward this garbage behaviour by giving up Rei’s spot on the team just so Rin can enjoy swimming again??? Boooooo he doesn’t even go to your school

These fuckin flower petals FIND YOURSELF A HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP HARU

“Come on Matsuoka!” AGAIN, way better friend than Rin deserves 

LET REI IN THE GROUP HUG HE’S THE BEST ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Well I’m thoroughly confused” ME TOO AMAKATA!!!! HOW DID THIS SOLVE ANYTHING 

Ten seconds into this second series and Mako continues to prove he’s The Best by cuddling cats to keep them warm

“You look good” “Stop patronizing me, damn it!” Rei and Nagisa’s relationship is also really a highlight of this show

“Rin’s far from the obvious choice for Mikoshiba’s replacement” that’s valid Rei, Rin has had a lot of trouble with the concept of being a team player thus far in his Samezuka career

“Just when you thought it was safe to cosplay” it is never safe to cosplay. Just ask all those Sasukes who got arrested

LMAO AT THIS DUMBASS STRIP SHOW IN FRONT OF THEIR SCHOOL

“My triceps are guaranteed to drive you out of your mind” I’M SCREAMIN THESE YOUTHS ARE AN EMBARRASSMENT TO SOCIETY

“You really gotta stop calling me sir, just drop it okay” “Yes s-eugokay” Beautiful voice acting. Iconic

Oh god please don’t give Haru another rival one was really enough

I never thought I’d say this but that was the most wholesome kidnapping in the world

Rin saying “Life after graduation” in the same tone as one might say “Life after death” is honestly a mood

Sosuke’s only had about five seconds of screen time but I’m gonna guess he’s Rin’s Australian ex-boyfriend

Update: Just his homie from elementary school I guess that’s fair

“So this is what a nationally-ranked swimmer’s build looks like” Aiichiro pls could you check Sosuke out with a little more subtlety 

“He’s the type of rival you can become obsessed with” AHHHHH Rin has been #calledout I think I like Sosuke

Okay you’re allowed to just be friends I’m just saying that runs on the beach in the moonlight are not always the most platonic activity, Haru and Makoto 

Omg Mako’s siblings love Rei I love it!!!!!

FDdkfhkdjhf I was certain Mikoshiba’s little brother would also have the hots for Kou but it’s still funny 

You go Kou judging the muscle contest live your dream

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay out of Rin’s way” Wow Sosuke that was a HARD 180 chill tf out

Omf I can’t believe it took me this long to realize that Aiichiro and Rin were roommates and it wasn’t just Aiichiro showing up in Rin’s room every night like “hey”

“Preferably ones with wonderful muscles and tight washboard abs!” “Yeah!!” Iwatobi Swim Club pls

Does this mean that the Makoto and Haru go on midnight runs bc Haru is slow as all hell on land lmao

YEAH REI’S TRACK EXPERTISE BECOMING RELEVANT AYYYYY

Omg Nagisa nudging Rei’s shoulder is fucking adorable ahhhhhh

Rei’s plans: Being sad about your personal inadequacies (what a mood)

“Do you really think I’d be dumb enough to fall prey to something so preposterously illogical as love” CALLING IT RIGHT NOW REI’S GONNA FALL IN LOVE

Lmao @ Momo checking out Rin’s cleavage this is truly the weird “all siblings have the same taste in crushes” universe

“I THINK HE MIGHT HAVE BEEN REI’S BOYFRIEND” Okay 1) This is stupid but the part of me that actually wants these shows to have a diverse spectrum of sexuality is lured in thanks I hate it, and 2) How dare you Rei’s boyfriend is Nagisa

[Makoto voice] This is a swimtervention 

AHHHHHHH EVERYBODY LOVES REI (AS THEY SHOULD)

I bet Rei’s going to train in his time off because he wants to catch to the boys <3 

Update: He’s getting Rin to teach him finally some helpful friendship times from Rin!!!! Good job

“Which do you think I’d look more swole in” omg who wrote this dialogue

Pls Sosuke don’t use this childhood joke debt as an excuse to be like “Don’t hang out with your old homies anymore”

“I need to sit on it for a little longer, that’s all”

Sosuke, internally, probably: Kiss me

“I want you to think of me as part of your team” FINALLY SOME OPEN AND HONEST COMMUNICATION ABOUT YOUR EMOTIONS

Woo woo positive character development for Rin prioritizing friendship over competition this is such a nice turn

Uh oh why is Nagisa lying about his motives for camping has he been kicked out of his house for stripping in public

I grow more and more concerned for Nagisa with every scene

“We said no and we meant it” I can’t believe that Makoto and Haru are Nagisa’s new parents wow 

Well we know who the good cop parent is, Makoto had a conversation with Nagisa and exactly one (1) second later was convinced they had to rescue him

Update from 30 seconds later: I spoke too soon he got Haru too “I’ve decided to let him stay with me” THESE NERDS

But why do you have to unbutton your shirt a little in order to negotiate Rei

“Studying became like some kind of torture” that’s depression honey

This soft glowing light while Rei tells Nagisa to follow his dreams is so sweet but also jdhkjfhkdjh what if his parents are just mean 

These boys are the definition of ride or die they’re in this empty ass pool area still trying to hide their friend behind their backs what absolute best boys are these

“Haru” “I’m sneaky” CUTE!!!! Also good call on not calling mum but on calling Trusted Adult instead

“You can’t quit. I won’t let you” AHHHH THAT’S LOVE!!! REI <3

The matching swimsuit pose god every moment of this show kills me

“We’re a team! If we can’t do it together what’s the point?” WOW I CAN’T BELIEVE MAKOTO AND HARU HAVE BEEN A TEAM LITERALLY SINCE THEY WERE BABIES! PICK UP THE PHONE AND SMELL THE HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP

“Here, dolphin’s yours” Oh!!! Makoto has also been selfless since birth he just wants Haru to be happy but Haru just wants him to be happy too 😭😭😭😭😭😭

I also like this Matsuoka siblings bonding this is what I wanted from the beginning tbh

Aiichiro you superstitious little nerd

“I want to know what it feels like to kick your ass” what a hard swerve Makoto pls 

“Congratulations, between the two of us you’re still the best in the water, how awesome is that?” “Hah, you’re so weird” I’ve never seen someone so excited to lose Makoto is truly the best boy I love this relationship 

Aw is Makoto jealous of Haru’s relationship with Rin? I 100% buy it but baby!!! You are so good there’s no need to worry

I’m so proud of the Iwatobi boys for qualifying for regionals and also I bet this means that the Samezuka boys will win relay

Update from an ep later: I was correct

“Don’t limit yourself kid” are you not... the same age as him Sosuke???

Working theory is that Makoto wants Haru to care about being scouted so they can go to the same school together and swim there

“I wonder what Haru wants to do after graduation” be a mermaid 

Sosuke really needs to get in touch with his emotions good grief

“But I am sure about one thing, I love it and I don’t want to stop” in all seriousness do people intentionally write these relationships as romantically-charged or is that just something that happens? Like this 100% reads as an allegory for discovering your sexuality

Ahhhh Makoto helping the babies I know I’ve said this a million times in the past few episodes but he’s the best boy

“I haven’t thought about [Kisumi] in who knows how long” Wow does everyone in this show have an ex-boyfriend who suddenly pops up to stir up drama bc it sure seems like it

There’s probably some symbolism in Haru handing off of a boxed lunch 

“But isn’t it... scary?” “Only til it’s not” Oh my goooood I love this swim teaching arc I love Makoto I just!!! HE’S THE BEST

Ahhhh Haru bringing Makoto’s siblings to see him at work this is disgustingly domestic and I love it 

“If he’s competing at the regional level I’m guessing that means they fixed [Sosuke’s shoulder]!” Wow Kisumi was truly just here to inspire some drama omg

Ffgkdfjjkhg this elevator stand-off it’s the Battle of Rin’s Overly Intimate Swim Partners

Oh no Haru is having an anxiety attack yikes but I get it

HARU NO AHHH THIS SUCKS COMPETITIVE SPORTS ARE SO UPSETTING 

Man this was a real traumatizing episode what the fuck Free! You lulled me into a false sense of security how dare you

“We don’t do things for each other. That’s just how we are” Ddfksdjhfkjhfd even Baby Sosuke had a lot of true processing how a friendship should work wow

“I trust him implicitly, he’ll be here” idk homies Haru’s sort of in the middle of an Anxiety Episode those don’t usually go well

“I realize it’s over for me. But before I go, I want swim the best damn relay I can. With you. Today.” Wow Sosuke finally connects with his emotions and proves himself as Good Boyfriend Material in one swing

Is it really a swim meet if Rin doesn’t have a dramatic outdoor confession of feelings with a former rival 

Samezuka you’re adorable but also a health hazard where’s your adult

MY BOYS MADE IT TO NATIONALS I’M GONNA CRY

“Look at Sosuke, being a big cheese ball” CHARACTER GROWTH

“I think I finally found what I was looking for” “Took you long enough” okay this seriously reads like an allegory for coming to terms with your sexuality Sosuke I have so many thoughts

Amakata is such a good teacher she won’t let Haru be slandered

I’m glad the boys are getting some acknowledgement but poor Haru 

“You never hear someone talk about their last summer” TITLE REFERENCE

Wooooooow Sosuke’s really here to tell Haru to keep going just for Rin’s sake this is almost the opposite of their first confrontation but it’s still   about how much Sosuke cares about Rin what kind of single-minded boyfriend antics 

“Why the hell are you so hung up on Rin” LOVE, HARU, LOVE!!

Haru methinks Makoto was about to make an important declaration quit evading your friend/future (she said, hypocritically)

[Makoto voice] Swimtervention: The Sequel

YES MAKOTO GO HELP HARU YOU KNOW HIM BEST

“Why don’t you understand that we love you” AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH MAKOTO #1 BOY MOST IN TOUCH WITH HIS EMOTIONS BEST FRIEND GOOD BOYFRIEND MATERIAL BUT ALSO JUST A WONDERFUL BOY WHO WANTS HARU HAPPY

Okay okay I’m not trying to project romance onto this narrative (that’s a lie I’ve been sold on romance for a while) but like.... fireworks!!! Fireworks going off in the background while they stand in front of each other in silhouette PICK UP THE PHONE ANIMATORS

“You and Makoto had a falling out, huh?” Omg not only does Rin pinpoint Haru’s problem right away he’s also making a direct parallel to him and Sosuke’s relationship my kinda amicable exes 

“It was our first fight” I’M WHEEZING THIS IS LIKE THAT EPISODE OF FRIENDS WHERE CHANDLER EXPERIENCES FIGHTING IN A RELATIONSHIP FOR THE FIRST TIME AND HE’S LIKE ‘GUESS WE’RE BROKEN UP’ AND MONICA’S LIKE ‘???? NO?’

Am I supposed to read little Rin telling his host family that Haru had eyes that look like the ocean in a platonic way because.... buddy

God I love Rin’s Australian family they’re so sweet and understanding

Ddfalsfjdskljf EXPLAIN THIS!!!

Russell: So mate, got a girlfriend back home?

Rin: Eummm, long story, or not actually [awkward laughter]

BED SHARING TROPES OH MY GOD!! THEY ARE LEANING INTO THIS PSEUDO-ROMCOM ANGLE EXCEPT THEY’VE BOTH GOT OTHER DUDES IN THEIR LIVES LMAO WHAT WOULD MAKOTO AND SOSUKE THINK

Rin and Haru don’t even wear the same style of swimsuit so lol @ Rin bringing a different suit across the world specifically to make Haru swim in it 

OMG HARU JUST DISCOVERED HIS DREAM I LOVE IT

Aw are Haru and Makoto going to end up separated bc of their different dreams because I’m gonna be very upset

I’m so touched by Makoto’s dream of helping children even if Makoto can’t fully be in the next season because it’s a Haru-centric show I still love him so much 4ever

Hahaha at them recapping the whole show I guess they didn’t know that there would be a third season

“C’mon you two, no more tears” what sweet sobbing boys you’re pulling at my heartstrings 

“We’ll always be a team” HECK YEAH YOU WILL

Yay for Rei getting his own swim hallucination!!!! That’s my boy

Maybe the real swimtervention was inside Haru’s heart all along  😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

THEY WON AND HARU’S CRYING HE’S FINALLY LEARNING TO EXPRESS FEELINGS 1000/10 WOULD RECOMMEND 

I knew Nitori would be captain but I’m still so happy for him!!! Baby!!!

“When you decide not to be done, I’ll be waiting” Rin has seen the most character growth of anyone on this show good for him!!

“Why you gotta say my name like that, it sounds weird” I keep telling you that is the sound of love, Harukaaaa <3

I LOVE EVERY PART OF THIS MONTAGE THE FLOWER PETALS THE “I’M IN COLLEGE NOW” GLASSES ON MAKOTO THE DREAMS COMING TRUE

WAIT ARE HARU AND MAKOTO GOING TO COLLEGE TOGETHER I LOVE IT 

I SAID IT BEFORE BUT YOU WIN THIS TIME, SPORTS ANIME. YOU GOT ME. YOU GOT ME REAL GOOD.

[silentfcknhill]

Coffin and pumpkin

pumpkin:

do you believe in ghosts?

I…..don’t know? I tend to be a pretty skeptical person when it comes to that kind of thing (I’m ‘agnostic’ and open/undecided when it comes to pretty much anything like that). Some days I lean more towards yes, and others no. 

I don’t think it is possible for me to believe in anything, belief has always been a foreign concept for me, I need to know. I am open to proof completely and I even would say I hope that ghosts are real. Well, sort of. I don’t know what scares me more, the concept of existence after death or none. 

If you would have asked me any longer than 7 years ago, I would have been able to say no more easily. Now, though, there is one thing that happened that I always think back to as the one reason why I can’t be so confidant that they don’t exist. I’ll explain it below as it relates to the next question. This is a long and complicated story, so brace yourself and buckle up.

coffin: have you ever had a paranormal experience? 

I have had a lot of bizarre experiences. Paranormal? Probably not. probably more due to mental health issues I was experiencing particularly severely at the time. I have suffered from a lot of issues with lucid dreaming, night terrors, and worst of all sleep paralysis involving very frightening auditory and visual hypnogogic hallucinations. 

They are not so often now, though, but for awhile they were quite bad and destroying my sleep entirely. There was one particular time that I will never forget, I woke up in sleep paralysis mode. It was dark in my room, still night, and I was sleeping on the top bunk of my bunk bed. I would have been 15-16 at the time. 

I opened my eyes but was not able to move my body, and I was still projecting my dreams onto my bedroom environment because in sleep paralysis you are still not entirely awake and still dreaming a bit. There was a shadow figure standing on the bottom bunk and watching me on the top. Intense panic usually always happens with SP, but this was unlike any other time. I started hearing a voice whispering in my ear in a raspy and malicious tone, almost a buzzing, and I don’t remember what it said but very bad things about suicide and stuff. 

Keep in mind, this was around the time, either slightly before or after I actually did try to kill myself and ended up in psych ward. I couldn’t make out distinct features on the being, just that is was very tall, skinny and sharp features like hands. I suddenly felt a pressure/tingling around my wrists (my arms were laying on on top of the other because I was sleeping on my side), and the creature began to start pulling me forward. Like, not my body, but my consciousness. 

I could feel myself being drug out of my body, as though a demonic entity were trying to kidnap me and steal my body or something. This is also around the time I was experimenting with astral projection, and I heard heard horror stories about it happening later on after some research, but I didn’t know any of that prior to this experience. 

I’ll never forget the actual physical sensations of being grabbed and dragged like that, it felt so real. I forget how the hallucination ended, I think I willed myself to move a finger or something and it pretty much immediately snaps you out of it, but let me tell you I was freaked the fuck out for a long time after that. Now let me explain that I was pretty much atheist at the time, so for me to be so afraid like that was strange. 

I wouldn’t go to bed without reading a page from the bible, and I even drew a cross on my wrist to take with me and protect me in my dream world. I encountered this same creature shortly after once again, this time in a full dream not a hallucination, and I was able to destroy him with the cross. Now I know that this was likely not anything paranormal, but this is not the story I was referring to, just the backstory to provide context for the truly scary part. 

For more context, I should explain that this apartment I was living in with my dad was one I had previously lived in back when I was from the ages of 1-4, and there were a lot of bad and traumatic memories there of abuse from my mother, so the whole place had a bad vibe. It was also located on a run down street downtown which was known for illegal activity, so it is very possible there were some negative people living there before, violent people, and someone could have even died in my bedroom. 

This was also the place I was living when my mother, who suffered from postpartum depression after my birth, believed that demons were trying to convince her to molest me and throw me over the balcony when I was a baby. To be completely honest, I’m still not entirely sure she didn’t do the former, given our relationship that was inappropriate later on, but….my parents, especially her, were very religious and so I grew up with the fear of demons in me and that pretty much anything bad was the fault of demons, no depression from natural causes, just demons making it that way.

So I wasn’t comfortable there to begin with. Then, all the stuff I just said about SP happened. I was in a crumbling mental state at the time, in an abusive relationship long distance with a man in his 40′s when I was only 15, severely underweight, no longer sleeping well or eating or showering because of depression, self-harming multiple times a day with razors, and addicted to the internet to the point I would get panic attacks, and on the cusp of a mental breakdown that would come very shortly after. 

But what happened next really fucked me up. For a period of a couple months or so, I was noticing small things would change from when I went to bed to when I woke up. Usually small stuff, like my alarm would be turned off when I left it on to wake up, the light being either on or off when I left it the opposite, same with the radio, fan and television, or the radio would be turned at a higher volume than I left it on. I would even get scratches and bruises on my arms while sleeping. 

I didn’t think much of it to be honest because I had a lot of other things on my plate, it was just mildly unsettling but I kind of considered the fact that maybe I had been sleepwalking, as it has been known to happen in states of severe stress, insomnia, and also with the antipsychotic sedatives I was taking at the time to help me sleep and with anxiety. But that all changed. 

One morning, I woke up and on top of all the other smaller changes, there was a bigger one. This is going to sound stupid as fuck, but it terrified me. There was a full can of soup next to my head, laying beside my pillow. It was not in my room before I went to sleep, it would have been in the kitchen cupboard. I briefly thought my dad was playing a prank on me until it hit me that I always keep my bedroom door locked, and it was still locked, which can only be done from the inside once the door is closed. 

A crippling sense of dread hit me and I bolted the fuck out of there. I ran up to the attic, where my dad’s room was, and had a panic attack. He doesn’t really believe in that kind of thing, he’s religious but he usually doesn’t think ghosts are real, just angels and demons. He had to go to work, so I stayed alone up in the attic for that whole day, I was too terrified to go back downstairs and I spent the night on the phone so I didn’t feel so alone. From then on I felt a really negative and evil presence in that room. I would feel like I was being watched, or like I wasn’t safe. 

In all honesty, if it wasn’t just me sleepwalking (which I find hard to believe it was, because I slept on the top bunk and I don’t think it would have been possible for someone who is asleep to climb down slippery metal bar ladder and back up without falling or tripping or something), i believe it was probably neither a ghost nor a demon, but a poltergeist. They are notorious for manifesting around teenagers, particularly girls, who are going through a very unstable and depressed time, as an embodiment of the negative energy. They mainly cause mischief, but can be frightening and occasionally get threatening. 

At least, that’s how I felt at the time. I felt like the can of soup (it was a big can, full, unopened, heavy) was a power play against me, a way of saying ‘look what I can do, look how strong I’ve gotten’ and placing it beside my head was a warning of some sort, showing off how easily i could have had my skull crushed in my sleep. Even if it didn’t intend to do it, it wanted me scared and that’s exactly what it got. 

So many negative things happened in that apartment, it’s where my dad and I both had severe separate mental breakdowns that we have still never recovered from, he has been unable to work since and I have had to live with damage to my brain from having serotonin syndrome by overdosing on pills to kill myself and getting seizures and stuff. We got evicted from that place after my dad got into a fight with his boss, who was also our landlord as he owned the restaurant downstairs of where we lived. 

That room, despite everything, had such a hold on me, it didn’t want to let me go, it wanted me trapped there. I cried and begged to stay, but once I left I realized how crazy it was and how bad the atmosphere was there and I’m glad to be free. The place I live now has had no such issues. 

Aside from that, I can think of a few bad experience with drugs that came pretty close to paranormal, at least in vibe, but were obviously not, back in my drug using days. Particularly acid. I will likely never recover from that and the issues with anxiety and existential panic it gave me. Though in hindsight doing hard drugs when you are autistic? Not a good idea.

Obviously there are logical explanations for all of this, some of them kind of a stretch, but still possible. I’m just saying it was enough to make me question and I never want to take any of that shit lightly or experience it again. I got asked once to do ouija, and I said FUCK NO. If that shit is real, you can guarantee it attaches itself to vulnerable people with mental health issues like me and it’s not worth the risk. 

There’s some things we weren’t meant to know in this life, and exploring where you shouldn’t go will haunt you and you will never come back the same. it’s like the metaphor from the bible with adam and eve eating fruit from the forbidden tree of knowledge and having their paradise broken forever. Once you see these things, there’s no going back. Don’t be tempted. This all sounds like bullshit, but I’m dead serious and it’s so fucking scary. Sorry to be such a debbie downer but let this be a cautionary tale dude because it’s no joke. I always tell this to anyone wanting to get involved in lucid dreaming and astral projection, it can turn bad. It doesn’t always, but when it goes bad it goes really bad. 

I’ve had entities react very poorly when they found out I was aware I was dreaming during a lucid dream, they would be disguised as someone I knew like my mom or a friend, and when I casually brought it up like ‘do you ever thunk about the fact that none of this is real?’ or something like that, they would transform into these static figures (like forms consisting of tv static, there mouths would open so wide and a hissing/screeching would come out) as though the matrix had just been broken or something and they were mad that I had found out they were trying to fool me. Needless to say, it makes being awake seem less real and makes me more paranoid. Freaky shit overall.

[phancystuff]

The True Meaning of “Punk” Ch. 1

Pairing: Dan/ Phil; Phan Genre: High school AU; chaptered Warning: NSFW (see tags for more specifics) Word Count: 3029/ ? Summary: It is Dan’s last year of sixth form and he is ready to just say ‘fuck it’ and be himself for once. He meets a sinfully attractive (but actually dorky) uni student named Phil who helps him in his quest to embrace and express himself.  Notes: This is a work in progress and will be updated regularly (It will help if I have some people cheering me on!). This isn’t going to have a lot of complex plot, honestly. I just want Dan to… explore. Tags: smut, fluff, high school AU, university AU, slight age difference, pastel!Dan, punk!Phil, drinking, eventual kinkiness, sub/dom, bdsm, daddy kink, feminization, mild homophobia (some of which will happen during sex), pain play

Read the fic on AO3!

Dan stared at himself, contemplating his face and naked body through a mirror dripping with condensation. He was glad that his skin was cooperating today; it was pale, but smooth and unblemished. His eyes traced the beauty marks and tiny freckles that dotted his cheeks and jaw. He wouldn’t need any concealer.

Dan reached under the sink and pulled out a small, unassuming black bag full of makeup products. He started with mascara, pumping the wand into the silver tube and covering it with black product. He had been blessed with long, thick eyelashes as it was. But, mascara lengthened them even more. His eyes looked bigger, more feminine. He smiled at his already changing face.

Next, he swiped his finger in some glittery, silver eyeshadow and wiped it across his eyelids. The woman at Sephora who sold him the tiny pan had been so kind. He had shyly asked her to guide him to the best products and she gushed about silver making his eyes sparkle. Dan observed himself; she hadn’t been wrong. Experimentally, he fluttered his enhanced eyelashes. He tried to imagine himself as a stranger. Did he look cute? Coy? Like a freak?

Dan’s fingers found the tube of makeup that would complete his look tonight. There was nothing particularly special about the lip gloss, except that it was peach-colored and tasted like strawberries. He grasped the little tube in his fingers even after the gloss was applied to his plump lips. He knew he’d lick the delicious shit off within five minutes of arriving to the party. He was going to keep it handy for reapplication.

Dan made eye contact with himself while he ran his fingers through his damp hair, messing with the curls, tugging experimentally. A shiver ran down his spine and he let go of his hair, not wanting to go down that path before a party.

A quick glance at his phone revealed that he didn’t have any more time to fuck around. Dan decided to embrace his natural state for tonight, choosing to towel dry his hair and let the curls fall where they may. He wrapped a towel around his waist and padded out of the bathroom.

Dan entered his room and dressed quickly. As the soft fabric of his floral romper slid up his thighs, his stomach twisted with nerves. This wasn’t the first time that he had dressed traditionally feminine, but it was his first time he was wearing the romper out. He eyed his hairless, exposed legs. Should he go for something safer? Dan shook his head, buttoning the last button on the romper and slipping on white, high-top converse shoes. This year, Dan was going to be himself for once. Try it on for size. Dan’s phone rang and a picture of Louise falling out of a chair, with a hilarious look of sheer doom on her face, popped up on his iPhone.

“Yo yo yo, Louise! You ready for this?” Dan grinned into his mirror, eyeing his finished look. Appraising himself. Trying to look through the eyes of a stranger.

“Dan– Daniel. You sound like a grandfather.” Louise deadpanned on the other end. “Have you finished preening yet? I can practically hear you staring at yourself in the mirror.”

Dan blushed, despite the fact that she couldn’t see that she was 100% correct. “Oi, fuck off, mate. And I’m sure your ends aren’t freshly dyed and coiled into perfect locks.”

“Touche, Howell. I’m sure we both will look fabulous. I’m on my way soon to pick you up.”

“Ok.” Dan pat nervous fingers over his drying curls, careful not to damage their natural shape. “Hey… Lou… romper or no?”

He could hear the fondness in her voice. “Romper, duh. I’ll see you five, deary.”

And then Louise and Dan were at Felix’s house way too soon. Dan worried at the hem of his romper, thinking that it had been a mistake, but not wanting to feel the shame of putting on the back-up pants he had slipped into his backpack last-minute. Not wanting to feel the shame of pretending he was just wearing a regular shirt. ‘Ugh, socializing. Putting myself out there. Why am I here?’ Louise sensed Dan’s growing anxiety. She parked her beater on the side of the road and turned to Dan. “You ready to find a nice boy to suck face with?”

Dan groaned and pressed his palms into his eyes, careful not to rub his makeup off. “Shut up, mom. You’re embarrassing me.”

“Daniel Howell look at me. You look bangin’. Fleeked, as the kids say. Boys are gonna be pawing to get to you. I will have to fight them off with my– breasts.”

“Breasts?” Dan peeked up at Louise through his fingers and her eyes widened.

“I don’t know why I said that.”

And just like that, the two friends were doubled over laughing, tears in their eyes. Dan shook his head. What could go wrong with his best friend by his side?

He pulled open the car door and approached the house; the sun was dipping below the horizon and he could feel the thump of loud music. Louise and Dan had a system with parties. They never showed up on time and, oh God, they absolutely never showed up early. Parties during the daytime were downright shameful. Everyone was too sober, too awkward. Dan physically shivered at the thought. He could work with drunk bodies swaying in the dark. Not, like, actual conscious humans.

The door opened before Dan could even put his hand on the knob. Someone he didn’t know pushed his way past Dan and vomited violently into the bushes surrounding the walk way. Dan felt briefly sorry for Felix’s parents and made wide-eye contact with Louise. She stifled a giggle and grabbed Dan’s hand, pulling him through the door.

The house was dark and thrumming with energy and movement. Felix was throwing a party because it was the beginning of their Year Thirteen. Dan couldn’t believe it– the end of his A-levels. He didn’t dwell on it, though, knowing that thoughts of university and careers would only fill him with existential dread. Right now, he just wanted to drink and dance and maybe be a little bit slutty. Big, new school year resolutions.

Louise continued to pull Dan and they found themselves in the kitchen, where there was an array of alcoholic beverages, including: bad beer, a questionable bucket of jungle juice, and cheap vodka shots. Dan hated vodka but poured a couple just to lubricate himself… socially. Louise cheered as he tossed the vile liquid back, holding back a grimace as the end of the shot hit his tongue. He held back the urge to cough. Louise did a shot as well, slamming the empty cup on the table. She made eye-contact with someone behind Dan.

“Hey, Peej! Come do a shot!” Dan turned around and grinned at PJ, who raced to do what Louise told him to do. His messy hair was falling into his eyes, as always, and his green eyes blazed. He poured a shot that was way too full, hollered ‘fuck Year Thirteen!’ and pounded the vodka. Dan laughed, Louise whooped, and everyone around them joined in a disjointed response cry of ‘fuck Year Thirteen!’ Although, Dan recognized some younger students too.

“So’d you guys just get here?” PJ was buzzed, smiling dopily at his friends.

“Yeah, mate.” Dan responded, peeking into the bucket of jungle juice with a wary expression.

“Oh, don’t worry it’s good. Just gotta ignore the chunks.” PJ’s nose wrinkled and Louise laughed again. Dan just shrugged and dunked a red cup into the bucket of wonder. He marveled at the purple color and took a long pull of it. He coughed. It had to be about 99% alcohol, 1% juice. Despite PJ’s comment, there were no chunks.

“It tastes like ass.”

“Not my fault you know what that tastes like, mate.” PJ grinned and Dan rolled his eyes. “So Louise, what’s the scoop? What’s the end goal? Mama cat on the prowl tonight?” PJ was just drunk enough to add a sassy meow to the end of his sentence and Louise slapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle.

“Oh God, PJ. Go home, you’re drunk.”

“She’s had her eye on Liam this summer,” Dan’s eyebrows danced up and down. “Lou’s gotta crush!”

“Liam– the one who works at the movie theater? The one with the tousled blonde hair?”

Louise smiled dreamily and sighed. “The very one!”

“The one wearing a dark blue button-up.” Louise looked confused. “Right behind you, mate!” PJ ducked out of the room them, cackling and moving his shoulders to the curiously Latin American beat. Sure enough, Liam was leaning across the counter right behind Louise. She handled it well– shrieking and forcefully grabbing Dan’s elbow. She yanked him out of the kitchen right into the main dancefloor that was the living room.

“Ow, Lou, what the hell?” Dan rubbed his peach-clad elbow. “Just for that, I’m going to go tell Liam that you want his babies.” Louise answered by shrieking again. “Hey, but really, you should talk to him. You’ve been crushing on him and I want to go be slutty.”

Louise eyes shone with a please-don’t-leave-me-you-are-my-best-friend look, mixed with her notorious and-I-can-ruin-your-life-if-I-wanted-to glint. Dan rolled his eyes again. His eyeballs were getting a lot of exercise tonight. “Here. This is what we will do.” Dan spun Louise around, hands pushing against her shoulder blades. He steered her back toward the kitchen. She spluttered. “You’re gonna take another shot. Or two.” He grabbed a glass of the counter, tipped it at her mouth. Louise, always the champ, successfully got the vodka down her throat. Then, you’re gonna talk to HEY LIAM!”

Louise choked and the tall, blonde boy hanging on the countertop looked up from his beer. “Hey, what’s up, Dan?” Liam smiled and Dan could practically feel Louise melt.

“Well, you’ve met Louise. She’s thinking about getting a job to save up for university. Ever the pragmatic lady, Louise. She was curious about what it’s like to work at a movie theater. Well you’re like the bloody expert, aren’t ya?” If Dan was laying it on a little thick, Liam was none the wiser to Dan’s cheeky tactics.

“Hey! That’s cool! Louise, we could work at the same theater and complain about customers!” When Louise didn’t respond, Dan nudged her. She seemed to wake up.

‘Fuck customers!’ was what came out of her mouth and Dan wanted to facepalm. To Liam’s credit, he just laughed and went on the other side of the counter to engage Louise in some friendly conversation. Dan’s work here was done. ‘Now I’m on my own,’ he realized. His face flushed and his heartbeat quickened.

Dan had a relatively high tolerance for alcohol, he had discovered. He tipped vodka into the shot glass he still held in one hand and drank it. He finished off his cup of jungle ass-juice. That would do for now. He had enough in him to… mingle. To forget about what he was wearing and shake it. He snuck out of the kitchen, grinning briefly at Louise who was deep in conversation with Liam.

Usually Dan took on the role of people-watcher at these parties. Sometimes, even out loud, he would pretend to be a nature documentary narrator. ‘Oh, wow. Here we find a rare species known as the “fuckus boyus.” Here we can see him preying on a young year ten.’

Although it was fun to hide in the shadows and be cynical about his peers, Dan decided this year that it was time for him to get some dick. Eighteen years old and still a virgin. It wasn’t bad or wrong– virginity was a social construct established by a misogynistic society, for that matter. Despite that, Dan wanted to know what it was like to be held, kissed, fucked. Before university. The only problem was… he had no idea how people did this.

So he mingled. He danced. He found some cute boys to grind on and only some of them told him to fuck off, fairy boy. Dan wasn’t even bothered. His hands kept finding drinks, his body (badly) gyrated badly to the (still vaguely Latin American) music. He witnessed some embarrassing white kid dancing, a very physical game of beer pong, and a couple humping right out in the open on Felix’s mother’s couch. No one person really caught his eye. He had known most of them since primary school and they were, quite frankly, old news.

Then, a dark figure caught his eye. He was unfamiliar and beautiful and– ‘so tall, wow, I could climb him like a tree.’

He was leaned against the doorframe of Felix’s living room, looking like a whole meal, as the kids say. He was tall– at least six feet. His legs went for miles and were clad in sinfully tight skinny jeans. Dan’s eyes traveled up the stranger’s body and he suddenly felt very sweaty and lightheaded. The mystery boy had on a black band T-shirt and a leather jacket. His long, pale neck sported– Dan squinted– a tattoo. He could already feel his knees going weak. Dan couldn’t make out much of the stranger’s face from across the room; his black fringe cast a deep shadow across it.

Dan was drunk, tingly, and very interested in Mr. tall, dark, and mysterious. He extracted himself from the girl he was dancing with, kissing her on the cheek. She quickly found another dancing partner. The room spun only a little as he made his way across the dancefloor. Up close, Dan could now make out several piercings standing out against porcelain skin. The tattoo was of a dragon. The stranger was staring at Dan, not unkindly. He had a few inches on Dan, which was… distracting. A crooked smile played on his lips and Dan had a hard time prying his eyes away from the black snakebites piercing them.

“Hey, you’re hot.” Dan wanted to facepalm. He was drunk, yes, but not so far gone that he didn’t know that such a statement wasn’t socially acceptable– ‘you idiot.’ The stranger seemed amused, thankfully, a deep chuckle escaping the mouth that Dan definitely wasn’t still staring at.

The stranger stuck out his hand and Dan grabbed it, ignoring how warm and soft it was. “Phil Lester. You’re pretty hot yourself, princess.” Dan frowned slightly, wondering if Phil was making fun of him. His smile looked so genuine and non-threatening, though. He decided that Phil was only being flirty.

“Daniel Howell. Dan. Though, I could get used to princess if you’d prefer that.” Dan was surprised by his smoothness, but chose not to jinx it by dwelling on the moment too much. Phil laughed then, a proper laugh, his tongue poking out of his teeth. And that was way too adorable for his tough, punk exterior. However, Dan didn’t miss the glint of a tongue piercing and he briefly wondered what it would feel like on his cock. Dan blinked hard to rid himself of such thoughts. “So, why haven’t I seen you around before? Are you a figment of my imagination?”

Phil shook his head, “No, I’m pretty real. Feel me.” He flexed an arm and leaned it toward Dan. Dan’s head swum, but he felt the muscle by fondling it with too-sweaty hands. He simply wanted to run with the joke, of course.

“Yep. You’re real. Can confirm.”

“But seriously, I go to uni in Manchester,” Phil’s fingers raked through his hair nervously, “I know it sounds creepy… an old guy like me hanging out at a party with a bunch of sixth formers,” Phil suddenly looked panicked, “Oh gosh, no offense! I don’t have anything against you guys.” Dan wanted to butt in and assure the uni student, but he was barreling on.

“Felix is my parent’s next door neighbor! He invited me because I’ve been pretty bored over the summer.” There was a beat, “Although he immediately left me, so now I wonder if I’m just the token uni kid to make his party seem cooler,” Phil grumbled almost under his breath and Dan smiled. Yeah, Felix was a prick like that. “Honestly, I’ve just been hovering by this doorway, not talking to anyone. So I’m just losing cool points, really.”

Dan crossed his arms, grinning. “Well, you’re in luck. I’m just about the most popular guy at this school. Stick with me and you’ll immediately be the coolest kid here!” Phil actually looked confused for a second and Dan took pity on him. “Phil, I’m kidding. Look at me. I have a bloody romper and lip gloss on, for godsakes. Most kids are embarrassed to know me. Talking to me is practically social suicide.” Dan giggled and Phil followed suit.

“You’re funny, Howell.” A beat passed and Phil’s face softened, “And, for whatever it’s worth, I like the romper… and the lip gloss.” And then Dan must have been dreaming, because Phil’s thumb came up to brush against his bottom lip.

Dan squeaked, “Hey, I’m gonna have to reapply that, you know.” He regretted the words instantly when they caused Phil to remove his thumb. However, it just came to rest on Dan’s soft jaw. His skin burned where Phil was touching him.

“We could do something that would really make you need to reapply your lip gloss,” Phil practically purred. The sudden shift from rambling, socially awkward uni kid to sexy punk was leaving Dan breathless. He felt like he might pass out. Or maybe he already had and this was just a dream. Maybe Phil was just a figment of his horny, hormonal imagination. It would make sense, since right now, he seemed like something straight out of a bodice-ripper.

“Am I dreaming?” Dan gazed up at Phil, who cracked a smile.

“No, we’ve been over this. I’m real, remember?” Almost to prove his point, Phil’s thumb slowly stroked along Dan’s jaw, toward his chin. The world went into slow motion and the pounding music went muffled. Gently, Phil tilted Dan’s chin up and his pierced lips inched toward Dan’s glossed ones.

[theeurekaproject]

Nam Amor Patria

Acidalia’s reflection stared back at her, unblinking.

She looked horrible. Her skin was pale and washed-out, a sickly shade of orange more reminiscent of a bad spray tan than natural Martian carotenes, and the bags under her eyes were about the size of the Americae Septentrionalis continent. An oozing, red gash went down from her shoulder to her forearm, leeching blood into the bathwater and turning it a sickly brown. Ace didn’t wish Acidalia any harm, but he certainly hadn’t been gentle, either, and one of his pins had driven itself into her flesh and just ripped, went down her skin like scissors cutting wrapping paper, leaving a nasty avulsion behind. She thought she’d stopped the bleeding, but it returned with a vengeance the minute she moved her arm.

“Vae,” she muttered to nobody but herself, watching the wound open again. She’d put butterfly bandages on it in lieu of stitches, but they weren’t waterproof, and they kept coming off and taking more skin with them. Now her whole arm was raw and red, scarlet from the blood and stinging from soap and antiseptic. She reached for another bandage, but her elbow brushed against the corner of the box a little too hard, knocking the entire thing into the water.

Acidalia sighed. Reasoning that any attempt to improve her situation was futile, she leant back against the solium and shut her eyes. It wasn’t good for her skin to be sitting in such a hot bath for so long, but at this point she’d most likely be dead before she turned 21, so the long-term health of her integumentary system was not her main concern. How soon will it be? she wondered, sitting up slightly to glance at the door. Would Alestra come in now, gun in hand, and shoot her in the bath, leaving her floating like Gatsby in a pool of her own mistakes? Or would it be tomorrow at dinner, with ricin-laced wine? Maybe she’d be lucky and it would happen tonight, and she’d die just like she fell asleep, painlessly and unaware.

That was a stupid thought. Alestra would never be that merciful.

Part of Acidalia almost wished they’d kill her soon—at least then she’d be dead and she wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore. The other part of her was terrified. Existential dread swelled up deep inside of her, making her heart beat at the speed of an FTL starship. She didn’t want to die. She’d prepared herself for her inevitable demise, thought about it over and over in her head, but she still didn’t want to die. She thought she’d be able to treat this whole situation with more grace, but she seriously doubted her ability to retain any kind of dignity or eloquence while facing her doom. Nobody looked elegant strapped to a gurney with pentobarbital in their arm. No one was graceful in front of a firing squad.

Maybe she’d drown herself before they could get to her, Acidalia mused. Then she’d have the last word. But she wouldn’t, not really—she’d be dead either way, then T would be left without a sister and the Revolution would be left without a Cipher. Besides, she didn’t think she could really force herself to do that, to sink under the water and just breathe until her lungs were full and useless. She could hardly inject herself with hypodermic needles; there was no way she could seriously harm herself without giving up.

Faex. This was a no win situation.

Irritated by her inability to change her predicament, Acidalia decided to ditch the idea of a hot bath altogether. It was supposed to relax her, but she couldn’t get the image of her own bloodied corpse floating, facedown, out of her mind. It was late at night, or maybe early morning—Acidalia was a night owl; all of the interesting things in Eleutheria happened after dark—but she dressed in her favorite evening gown anyway, couple with the Imperial crown. She might as well die while making a statement. Soon enough, she wouldn’t have to hear anybody’s judgement anymore.

She hadn’t realized, before, that her impending doom would affect her so much. She knew that this was a hard game to win, and oftentimes victory and death were synonymous; war was like chess, and sometimes pawns have to be sacrificed in order to save the king. The odds of Acidalia making it past twenty were already low before she joined the Revolution, and she thought she’d come to terms with that. Still, standing here, wondering which breath would be her last, was heart-wrenching. There were so many things she would never get to do, so many sights she would never see, so many dreams left unfulfilled. And then there was T.

Oh, god, T. Acidalia felt selfish, suddenly, for musing on all of her life’s shortcomings when T would be the real victim of her murder. Once Acidalia was dead, that was it; there would be no more pain or heartache for her. T, though… T would still be alive. T would have to watch them desecrate her corpse, see the propaganda with her face on it, deal with the remnants of her legacy. Meanwhile, the Revolution would flounder. Acidalia was their secret weapon—without her, they’d be at a horrible disadvantage.

“This is just wonderful, isn’t it?” Acidalia murmured sadly to nobody in particular. She felt trapped like a prisoner on death row, counting her time in hours instead of years. What would her last words be? She hadn’t ever thought to write such things down.

There were escapes, of course; there were always escapes. She could flee to Mars and abandon all hope of freeing Eleutheria from Alestra’s brutal grasp. It would be easy; she’d blend in with the crowd far more than any other Terran girl, and it wouldn’t be difficult to doctor her documents and adopt a new identity. She could settle down and marry someone and find a mediocre job, and the entirety of the empire she once led would be subject to the cruel and unjust laws her mother passed. Acidalia would survive, but T would be crushed, and she’d be abandoning everything and everyone she loved for the sake of leading an unfulfilling life.

It wasn’t worth it. Acidalia didn’t want to die, but she’d rather go out fighting than live as a coward.

And that left… what, exactly? Even if she managed to escape the palace walls, where would she go? If she went to a Revolutionary base, they’d try to tail her, and the risk of being found was much larger than the benefit of a slightly higher chance of survival. She could steal one of the royal family’s stealth ships and hover in orbit, praying that the cloaking tech held up, but there was such a high chance that they’d find her. She’d only be staving off the inevitable. Who would offer her asylum when Alestra wanted her dead? Alestra stopped at nothing to get what she wanted. She’d happily murder anyone who gave aid to Acidalia.

So Acidalia would die. There was nowhere to go and nothing to do other than pen her last will and testament. What would it even say? “I leave all my wealth to my bastard brother, who you’ll kill if you find out he exists?” And her corpse would be shown on every television in Eleutheria, and her mother, the ever-brilliant orator, would make a rousing speech about pruning family trees, and she’d smile poisonously into the camera and say that it’s a shame, really, to have to spill so much Cipher blood, but Acidalia was never much of a Cipher to begin with. And somewhere beneath the waters of the Atlantic T would cry and try to hide it, and Andromeda would pace, and it’d be hours—minutes, maybe—until she had her armies fighting in alleyways and people rioting in the streets. Then Alestra’s icy grip would come down upon them with the strength of a hypernova, and they’d bleed, they’d bleed until the streets were slick with blood and viscera, and there would be nobody left to stop it, nobody left to—

Oh, Deus, Acidalia thought, I’m such an idiot. She should have gotten out of here years ago. If only she had the forethought to realize the lengths Alestra would go, if only she’d seen just how little worth the court placed on her life…

But there was no use in such hypotheticals.

Okay. Either I die, or I don’t. It’s time to start thinking about this logically. Acidalia sat down at the desk in her study and stared at the plain white countertop as if she had documents to look through. There were two options: Alestra killed her, or she lived.

In scenario one, Acidalia would die prematurely, T would have a meltdown, and Acidalia’s extremely unique and specific skillset would no longer be available to the Revolution, leaving them at a firm disadvantage. The initial deaths would be minimal, but it would be days at most before war and rioting decimated the planet, killing untold amounts of people in the process—especially with no Cipher to counter Alestra. Any weapon produced by a Cipher could easily leave half the population or more dead or incapacitated, though Acidalia doubted her mother would go that scorched-earth—she wanted an empire to rule, after all. Alestra would most likely only target a small percentage—ten, perhaps, or maybe fifteen. That was slightly over two billion citizens. Initial deaths, one; resultant deaths, 2,000,000,000. And that was being generous.

In scenario two, Acidalia somehow managed to survive the next few weeks, and she’d be there to serve the Revolution when the time came. If she were to live, she’d have to find help from other people, most of whom Alestra would kill. She considered again the option of seeking asylum on Mars. If Alestra could find hints as to where she’d gone—and she would find hints—she’d murder everyone who had ever interacted with Acidalia, probably after torturing them for information. That’d probably be somewhere in the realm of 200 people. And then there’d be rioting anyway, because Acidalia was well-liked amongst certain castes, and tensions would rise to dangerous levels. But Acidalia would be there to help, and two billion people would not die.

So Acidalia had to survive. It was basic math. The damage Alestra could do in her absence outstripped any issues her survival could possibly cause. Two hundred people dying painfully was horrible, but two billion people bleeding to death in the streets and begging for help from long-dead Katherine was much, much worse.

***

An hour later, Acidalia left her bedroom with a designer purse stuffed full of illegal documents and guns concealed in holsters beneath her skirts. She’d formulated the most basic of plans involving a faked suicide and a disguise. It sounded like something out of a terrible B-movie she and T would make fun of together on one of their rare outings, and it wouldn’t be enough to convince Alestra of anything, but it might keep her busy for a while. All Acidalia really needed was time.

As she walked through the palace hallways, the servants gave her a wide berth. They’d all seen the events at the coronation, and they knew how much of a target Acidalia was—none of them wanted to be caught in the crossfire. Acidalia didn’t blame them. She’d stopped using human servants years ago once her mother made it clear that just being around her put their lives at risk. Still, Alestra and Aleskynn liked the dopamine rush that came with ordering people around, so the humans stayed in the palace, tiptoeing around the hallways and whispering to one another in vulgar Latin.

Acidalia tried to appear calm and causal, so as not to ring any alarm bells. There were very few noblewomen awake at this hour, but she could hear her sister giggling in the distance, and even little Aleskynn could be dangerous when she wanted to be. Alestra was nowhere to be seen, and the Imperial Guard was strangely absent. The silence made Acidalia’s skin crawl.

I have every right to be here, she told herself. I am the Imperatrix Ceasarina, and I can go wherever I’d like. But her internal monologue’s attempts to convince her conscious mind that everything was fine did not change the reality of her conundrum whatsoever, and she could feel her anxiety increase tenfold with every step she took. She brushed her fingers against her thigh holster, checking to see if it was still there.

As she crept closer to the hangar where her personal ships were stored, the corridors grew more silent, and throngs of servants dissipated into tiny clusters of robots hovering a few feet off the ground. Aleskynn’s laughter faded into nothingness, leaving only the haunting hum of air conditioning and eerie electronic chimes behind. The air felt stale, suddenly, and less perfumed than it had been before. More tension hung in the atmosphere, and every one of Acidalia’s footsteps felt as loud as a nuclear blast. Still, she moved forward, trying desperately to control her fear, pushing it underneath layers of determination. If it came down to it, she’d fight her way out of here. She had to. Otherwise, the consequences would be immeasurable.

She was almost there, now, almost to the hangar, and the silhouette of the Revelation loomed in the distance. Acidalia hurried her pace, wishing she’d had the foresight to wear flats instead of these ridiculous heels. But she could change later when she was safe and sound someplace else; every one of her ships was stocked with enough clothing and accessories that she could live in orbit for years and never repeat an outfit. The Cipher family was materialistic that way, and when Acidalia’s grandmother had this shipyard built, she probably wasn’t considering the possibility of her little girl turning murderous and starting another civil war. Poor Harmonia, Acidalia thought bitterly. Being Alestra’s daughter was bad enough. She couldn’t imagine what raising her must have been like.

Then again, Harmonia had died young, probably at Alestra’s hands. So maybe Acidalia could imagine. Not for the first time, she shuddered, and tried to pass it off as a response to the ice-cold air of the hangar.

She was so close, so close she could see her target’s shadow flickering in the false candlelight. She wouldn’t be like Harmonia—she wasn’t half as spineless or as shallow. She had a plan and an escape and a means to get away and a revolution behind her and a brother who loved her and a thousand other resources that the stars never graced Harmonia with. She’d survive this. She’d survive, even if it meant fighting Thanatus off herself. Hopefully, she wouldn’t have to.

Suppressing nervousness with arrogance, Acidalia made her way across the hangar, well aware that she was a sitting duck for any sniper. There was nothing to hide behind, and her heat signature was probably painfully obvious, a splotch of red paint against a backdrop of cool blue. At least a bullet in her skull would be a quick death, she reasoned. Only a few more paces, only a few more steps, and—

There was a person sitting on the Revelation’s steps, gazing up at the sky.

Acidalia’s heart skipped a beat before resuming its pulse faster than ever before. The woman seemed to sense her presence, and she turned, smirking. Her smile was scarily perfect: two rows of impeccably straight teeth surrounded by candy-coated, sparkly, blood-colored lips.

“Salve, Cassiopeia,” Acidalia said breezily, though she was forcing the words out of her mouth. Every instinct in her body screamed at her to run, but there was no escaping now; there’d be a fight this evening, whether with bullets or clever wordplay.

“Ave, Acidalia,” Cassiopeia replied, her voice icy. “What’s a girl like you doing out this time of night?”

Shoot her, Acidalia’s subconscious screamed. Shoot her! But Cassiopeia wasn’t dumb enough to do this alone—impetuous, maybe, but not dumb. She’d have reinforcements, and murdering their leader was bound to incite even more violence.

“I’m going on a short excursion to Mars. I have meeting with President Arlen Tycho regarding the quality of the latest Utopian warships.” It was a plausible lie; Cassiopeia had no way of knowing who on Mars was responsible for what, and there had been issues with Utopian warships in the past, though they had more to do with Revolutionary sabotage than oversights in Utopia Planitia. Still, something told Acidalia that Cassiopeia wasn’t here to listen to her stories about Martian shipyards.

“That’s interesting.” Cassiopeia’s voice was gentle, but there was something dangerous in her eyes, electric green and burning like Greek fire.

“I must ask what your purpose here is,” Acidalia added, well aware that any wrong move could cause this woman to snap. She had always been about as stable as a decaying radioactive isotope, and just as deadly, too.

“I think you already know that.” And with that, Cassiopeia’s voice shifted; she lost the saccharine awe most people took on while interacting with the Imperatrix and replaced it instead with an angry roughness.

“I’m afraid I do not.” Sometimes playing dumb was the best option. Acidalia reached into her dress for her pistol.

“Isn’t it obvious, Cipher? I’ve come to finish what I’ve started.”

[lazilyfreshtheorist]

Is there an Existential Crisis in Modern Society for Men?

I noticed this readable article. I'll give it here in excerpts. If you want to read the whole text, go to this link: KnowledgeForMen blog: Ultimate Guide to Overcoming an Existential Crisis in Modern Society

The mass of men is in the throes of a profound Existential Crisis in Modern Society

Existential Crisis in Modern Society for men it’s not hard to see how this plays out: 17.3 million Americans suffer from depression according to dbsalliance.org Depression is the leading cause of disability worldwide Two-thirds of suicides caused by depression 40 million American adults suffer from anxiety according to the Anxiety and Depression Association of America 75% of Americans are unhappy at work, according to Mental Health America. Despite the unprecedented abundance, safety, and opportunity of the 21st century, we are slowly starting to realize that life, regardless of your socioeconomic status or privilege, is at times very hard. “What’s the point of all of this? What is the meaning of life? Who cares we’re all going to die anyway!”  This question leads to complicated and inescapable feelings and emotions. Our parents, the school system, and society did little to prepare us. These thoughts and emotions may make themselves independent. So they are uncontrollable and free them from their will. That can prevent them from mastering new challenges, trying new things, and achieving their big goals. They can lead you down a dark and twisted road of hedonic pleasure and apathy. If you are suffering from an Existential Crisis in Modern Society, there is hope. If you’re wondering how to find meaning in life, there is away. I can’t give you all of the answers or tell you how to live your life for everyone exactly is unique. Existential Crisis in Modern Society Solution: Pull back the layers of these problems one at a time and try out possible solutions. Learn to ask more practical questions. Then you can begin to overcome your existential fears. You can now live a great and joyful life where you can pick up the disturbing secrets of the human experience.

Existential Crisis in Modern Society for men definition: What is an Existential Crisis Anyways? 

In the psychological community, an Existential Crisis in Modern Society is “a moment when an individual questions if their life has meaning, purpose, or value.” To show you: an Existential Crisis in Modern Society is what happens when you suddenly wake up one day and realize this.

The most frustrating part of anExistential Crisis in Modern Society is that they can strike at any moment, without warning and reason. Depression and existential despair, though frequently experienced in unison, are not the same. You can be happier than you’ve ever yet still experience an unwavering spiritual malaise about your purpose and place in this world. The term existential crisis initially derives from the work of psychoanalyst and developmental theorist Erik Erikson, who referred to an existential crisis as an “identity crisis.” And that’s where things get interesting. In an existential crisis, you begin to realize that you might not be who or what you thought you were for the past few decades of your existence. That brings into question and challenges EVERYTHING you once thought to be true. But you do not have an existential crisis without reason...read more

The Causes of Existential Crisis in Modern Society and Depression 

The following sections might be hard to stomach and accept. But I encourage you to read this through to the end. It is equally uncomfortable to accept a grim medical prognosis, but necessary to find the right treatment. But it is also unpleasant to face the inevitable facts of human existence. We have to understand the root cause of our existential breakdown that we can learn how to deal with an existential crisis.

The Paradox of Abundance: Too Many Options, Too Little Time 

“Anxiety is the dizziness of freedom.” ~Kierkegaard, The Father of Existentialism The most significant source of our existential dread is, quite ironically, the abundance in which we find ourselves as a species in modern society. Never before has humankind been presented with so much opportunity and possibility. Through the power of the internet, you can learn any skill and monetize any hobby from the comfort of your own home. With all the knowledge of our world, you can have, do and be what you want. And this very freedom has become a massive problem for society. Regardless of our success in any given area, we can’t help but wonder, “What if…”  Everywhere we look, every person is faced with choices too plentiful and essential to count. No matter how long we think or how many times we ask “what if,” there seem to be no answers to our existential FOMO. Simply more questions.

The Decline of Community: Alone on a Rock Spinning Through a Void 

We no longer have tribes or communities with whom we gain intimate familiarity. Our relationships often relegated to meaningless exchanges on social media platforms and superficial conversations with coworkers we don’t like. More than ever before, despite technological advances, we are more disconnected from our fellow humans. We are trained, from a very young age, to fear and loathe our neighbors because of their differences instead of finding camaraderie, compassion, and community in our similarities.  But this wasn’t always the case. Once upon a time, we lived and died with our fellow tribe members. We lived together, hunted together, broke bread together, danced together, laughed together, and had little time to ponder the insanity of existence. Most adults report having fewer than one close friend, and many people claim that they have no one in their lives whom they could call in the event of an emergency. The coalescence of these factors has created a society in which existential depression and acute depression seem all but inevitable. When we have no one in our lives to whom we can turn In the era of media madness, we struggle to authentically connect with our fellow humans as the population scurries about in a frenzy, desperately attempting to hide behind an ego-fueled facade of perfection. Understanding this is the first step to getting over an existential crisis. Because if everyone knew the truth...read more   Media Madness: The Force Multiplier of Insanity  Rewind the clock less than 15 years, and you would find a world that seems completely disconnected from the one in which we now find ourselves. People mostly kept to themselves. Things like marriage, engagements, family vacations, the birth of a child, career successes, and generating wealth, for the most part, was kept private. Now come to present times. Privacy has become a distant memory. Through the advent of social media, we are given a small (and carefully manufactured) glimpse into the “realities” of the most intimate part of other people’s lives. Men showcase their latest professional successes in a never-ending highlight reel with few hardships along the way.

The Curse of Comfort: The Easy Life is No Life

“Life can be magnificent and overwhelming – that is the whole tragedy. Without beauty, love, or danger it would almost be easy to live.” ~Albert Camus And this is something humans have craved since the beginning of time. We don’t want a comfortable and banal existence where we clock in, clock out, watch TV, masturbate or have routine sex, and microwave a ready-made meal then repeat until we die. You were born into a particular culture and, as a result, had specific enemies and obstacles to overcome. Whether it was merely hunting an animal to eat that day, conquering a rival village, or merely bandying together to survive mother nature, we were born into the fight of our lives. Today, things are different in Existential Crisis in Modern Society!  

A poor person today had better access to healthcare, technology, and education than even the richest men in the world just 25 years ago. You may not have a mansion, but you have a roof over your head. You may not be eating filet mignon and fresh lobster for dinner, but you are not starving. And subsisting on food stamps, government programs, and the charity has now become commonplace for many (not that I advocate this). Think about it this way. If you look at the history of human existence, it’s clear that we derive meaning and purpose from conflict and discomfort. It’s why stories like Braveheart, Gladiator, and Rudy strike such a chord in man.

The Path Forward is Worth the Fight

The Path Forward is Worth the Fight “Freedom is what you do with what’s been done to you.” ~Jean Paul Sartre Having an existential crisis is NORMAL.  Having an existential crisis is a GOOD THING.  Having an existential crisis is a sign of GROWTH. The fact that you are questioning your place in the world and asking how to find meaning in life doesn’t make you dumb, weak, or inferior. It makes you human–and a more intelligent and conscious human at that. But merely acknowledging your crisis is not the same as getting over an existential crisis. You must decide what you are going to do about it.  It’s the path of growth, adventure, and spiritual freedom.  The rest of this guide will detail the steps I took to eradicate my existential dread.

  The Keys to Overcoming Existential Anxiety NOW! 

Before detailing the exact steps you can take to overcome an existential crisis, you must first understand a few essential guidelines. First. Unlike depression or anxiety, an Existential Crisis in Modern Society is not contingent on any particular facet of your life, and the solutions are not fast and easy. You can be crushing it in every area of life but still feel a nagging discontent when you turn off at the end of the day, are alone, and go to sleep at night. There are no easy answers to the big questions of life. Therefore, it is essential to accept the existential challenges as they arise and to be ready to take them without knowing the exact solution. Next, you must understand that the solutions to existential anxiety and depression are not all action-based. With the other challenges in our life–like weight loss, earning more money, or ascending a chosen career ladder–the solutions are typically cut and dry. Do more of this. Do less of that. Start doing this. Stop doing that. In an existential crisis, there are no such clear actions. Most of the solutions I’m going to present are far more esoteric than they are practical. They are about adopting new beliefs and mindsets that take time to understand fully. Finally, realize that escaping the clutches of an existential crisis will not happen overnight.

Understand What Your Purpose Is 

“No one can construct for you the bridge upon which precisely you must cross the stream of life, no one but you yourself alone.” ~Frederick Nietzsche All too often, people assume that their purpose is something concrete. Something preordained and fixed. The birth is not an inevitable fate that you have to pursue. You can choose your purpose.  To break free from an existential breakdown, you must exercise this freedom and create meaning for yourself. And to allow that purpose to evolve as you evolve as a man. Do not wait for others to tell you how to live your life, choose the life you want to live, and pursue it with conviction.

  There are no easy answers to the big questions of life. Therefore, it is similar, in your life, your purpose today will be wildly different from your use five or ten years from now. And that’s normal and a part of life. What matters is that you pursue your authentic purpose! Just do things that make your life meaningful and create meaning in your eyes. Not in the eyes of society. You will only find it in pursuit of things that are meaningful to you and in alignment with your values. But to create this purpose for yourself, you must first embrace the pain of meaninglessness. You must face the Existential Crisis in Modern Society Demons to emerge victoriously.

How to Deal with An Existential Crisis in Modern Society: Stop Numbing the Pain and Embrace It 

One of the most significant pitfalls modern humans fall into is an addiction to sedation. And there is a reason our society has developed so many forms of escapism in the last several decades. Because people want to escape their lives, they want to stand out even for a brief moment from their meaningless life. To numb the pain that they feel so profoundly. But when you come down from the high... read more   BRING IT ON!  The pain that you feel from lacking a purpose or despising your life is the greatest gift that life can give you. It is life’s natural change agent — a guide to serve you. Not to help you escape from your life, but rather to not let life flee from you. To rid your life of an existential crisis, you must first rid your life of sedation with which so many men fall.

Avoiding an Existential Breakdown: Indecision Always Costs More in the End

The modern human has, at their fingertips, more opportunity and possibility than any human–even the richest of kings–had one hundred years ago. And this reality has led to a generation fueled plagued by indecisiveness. With so many options, we can never know when we are making the “right” decision. But the truth is... read more   Become a Creator, Not a Consumer “Men must live and create. Live to the point of tears.” ~Albert Camus There’s only one problem. The modern world does not encourage this creation-centric lifestyle. Instead, it pushes and peddles a materialistic agenda of consumption. From the moment we were born, we’ve inundated with ads telling us how we should look, what we should wear, where we should live, and how we should act, destroying our creativity. To keep by these social norms, we consume. We consume new homes, furniture, cars, designer clothes, overpriced jewelry, lavish vacations (that never feel relaxing), Netflix marathons, porn, and unhealthy foods.

The problem arises when one allows overconsumption to take over all of their time, energy, and stifle their ability to create. Nothing fuels depression and feelings of meaningless more than a life void of creative power. And if you want to know how to deal with an existential crisis, the best answer I can give you is to create more. Stop consuming. Start creating. And as a byproduct, you are stepping into your power and becoming the hero in your life. Creation fuels meaning. And the more you create, the more meaningful and enjoyable your life and the faster you can start getting over an existential crisis. Memento Mori  “If I take death into my life, acknowledge it, and face it squarely, I will free myself from the anxiety of death and the pettiness of life – and only then will I be free to become myself.” ~Martin Heidegger This final section is a dark yet enlightening topic, but one that I feel you are prepared to face. Take a deep breath. Relax. I’m with you right now. The final and most profound way to escape an existential breakdown is to contemplate and meditate on the inevitability of your death. You are going to die. Everyone you love is going to die. Everyone who pisses you off right now is going to die too. We all are. It’s merely the human condition.  

  If there are only two things we know for sure–we are alive right now, and one day we won’t be–we only have two choices. First, we can opt-out of existence and decide that our existential angst is a disease without a cure. Or, since we’re already on this spinning rock, we can choose to make the most of it. If the worst thing that can happen is already guaranteed to arrive… Then we have nothing to fear.  And when we truly embrace this fact, allowing it to penetrate us to the core, life becomes an exciting adventure. You are the hero of your life, and you can create whatever you want with it. It’s so beautiful this way. You are free to pursue your passions, to go for your dreams, to aim as high as you can without fear or shame. Make the most of your experience here. Live so vibrantly it puts you in tears of joy. Live so that the fear of death never enters your heart and accept that the only thing you have to fear truly is dying without ever having lived. My friend, don’t waste this opportunity Want to become the most reliable version of yourself? "This article originally appeared in the KnowledgeForMen blog."                 Read the full article

[irisfaeblossom]

Writing prompt: Write about an alternate version of yourself. What would they be like? How would they be different than you?

Another uneventful day is coming to a close. I lie on my bed, staring at the ceiling. It takes maybe five to ten minutes before I start thinking about my future and what my purpose in this world is. Dreading the worse mixed with the hopefulness that I’ll eventually find my answers cause my eyes to glaze over with tears before they cascade down my face. Sometimes, I wonder how I ended up like this, but I know full well.

It’s been this way at the beginning of my senior year of high school and a year after graduating. The second day of the first full week of my senior year of high school was the day my dreams got crushed, sending me down a path of despair and existential dread. It was a stupid reason that caused me to no longer feel motivated to follow my heart and do the things I love. I can no longer trust to tell people what I’m passionate about and what I want to do without the fear of that same thing happening again. While I agree we need more doctors, engineers, nurses, etc., that’s not the kind of person I am. I love to write, whenever I have the inspiration, as well as sing. You see, music has been a part of me since I was three years old. It will always be a part of me. Hell, music is part of the reason I’m still alive.

Eventually, I fall asleep, the fan by my bedside creating a sort of white noise and cool breeze to further lull me. The overthinking doesn’t stop until my mind shuts off to give me a moment of peace. Then, and only then, do I start to dream.

I wake up. I’m still in my bedroom at dad’s, fan still whirring, calming music playing, and dad has gone to work. I check the time on my phone. 7:30 AM. With that, I turn off the music and slowly get out of bed. The moment I open the bedroom door to fix a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, I freeze. There’s a girl in the kitchen. She looks my age, has my figure except her stomach is flatter, and has dark cherry-colored hair, a hair color I’ve wanted to try out on myself since seeing what it looked like. She was dressed in something I’d wear. She wore a gray top with two black feathers on the front of it, a red flannel jacket, a black beanie, skinny jeans, and black ankle-length boots.

I snap out of the shock to find she was staring back at me with the same confused expression on her face. “Who the hell are you?” I ask. I wanted to make a break for the baseball bat by the corner of the living room, but the girl seemed harmless, so I stayed standing by the doorway.

“Who are you?” She asks back.

“Hailey?”

“Spelled the same way as my name?”

“Uhhh….I guess? Are you some kind of….Are you me?”

She blinks rapidly a couple times, taken aback by the question before scanning me up and down. She says slowly, “We do kinda look the same. Come closer?”

We walk a couple paces toward each other to get a better glimpse of each others’ faces. “Same nose, same eye shape and color, same face shape….oh my god I am you!” Startled, I jump back from her. My other self gives me an apologetic smile before leading me to the living room couch to talk. I definitely needed answers.

“So, how do we start this conversation?” The other me ponders.

“Well, we can...talk about what you do. Is your personality the same as mine?” I ask her.

Twisting a strand of cherry hair, she replies, “If you’re the same as me and likes to stay home, read books, browse the internet, play video games, yada yada yada, then yeah. I still care a lot about people and try to be as open-minded and empathetic as I can. As for what I do, I’m a writer, currently learning how to play three instruments, still trying to get better at songwriting, and I’m fairly noticed online for my stories and vlogs. I’m nothing big, but I may just get there some day. Who knows? I’ll impact more people if I keep on going with what I’m doing.”

“Wait, you said you’re learning how to play three instruments. What are they?” I ask, my breathing catching in my throat and my eyes burning with unshed tears.

“Violin, guitar, and piano. Hey, are you okay?” My alternate self gazes at me tenderly, concerned by my sudden change in mood.

The dam bursts and I turn my face so she doesn’t see me cry. It’s a futile attempt to hide my emotions, I know. I hear her rising from her seat to kneel down in front of me on the ground. “Is that what you’ve dreamt of doing with your life, too?” I nod. I look up at her a sniffling, sobbing mess. She gently moves my dark brown hair out of my face and holds my hand. “You know it’s not too late for you, right? You can still make it a reality, if you’re willing to try. Whoever told you you couldn’t or that it’s unrealistic or useless, fuck them, okay! They don’t know you like you know yourself. Don’t let a-holes like them make you think your existence is unnecessary because you’re different. I know it’s hard, but the more you listen to your heart and follow it where it leads you and you believe in yourself, it’ll make a big difference. Believe me. There will be things you don’t want do in order to get on the path you’re aspiring to walk on, but it’ll all be worth it in the end. It sounds impossible now, but I believe in you and I want you to put more faith in yourself for me, okay? Come here.”

I lean off the rocking chair I’ve been sitting on and fall into her embrace, sobbing into her shoulder. I can feel warm liquid on the side of my neck. I didn’t need to be a rocket scientist to know my other self was crying, too. We stayed like this for at least a minute before pulling away. Embarrassed by my getting emotional, I bashfully murmur, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She lightly chuckled.

My eyes began to grow heavy, begging for more rest. Yawning, I say, “I’m emotionally drained. Mind if I go back to bed? You can help yourself in the kitchen.”

Lightly laughing again, she responded, “Yeah, that’s fine.”

We get off the floor to go our separate ways with me going back in the bedroom and other me going back to the kitchen to fix herself breakfast. Before I close the door, I say one last thing, “Hey, future me…thank you. Really.” She smiles at me and gives a small nod in my direction.

I’m back to reality and I wake up with a start. I get out of bed to find nobody else is home. I’m alone. I go back to my room to write about my strange dream in a journal entry on a word document. This is a dream I want to remember and look back on it later on down the road. I can swear I have a little more hope in me than before, the words my other self said to me during our talk repeating in my head.

I’ll make you proud, future me. I’ll start fighting harder than ever. I’m not sure where life will take me, but I hope to be like you some day.  

(I’m so sorry if this sucks! My writing’s a little rusty as I haven’t written a story in forever. I kinda ran into this prompt on my feed on here and read somebody’s take on the prompt before trying it myself. So, again, sorry if this sucks. I’m wanting to start back writing again because I effin’ miss it!)

[ecotone99]

[SF] Sassy for Satan.

The final trails of dusk streak through Mariya’s blinds at just before eight thirty pm. There is a slight pink hue against the pale blue of the sky and only a few clouds, the wind blows and makes the blinds bump against the window sill. Mariya reaches out from underneath her cocoon of blankets and presses the on button on the coffee maker on her bedside table. It hisses as it comes to life and soon the smell of mid range French roast is making the idea of getting out of bed more palpable. In fifteen and a half minutes she has showered(though couldn't be bothered to wash her hair, it still looked fine) is on her second cup of coffee and has a record playing on the turntable on the other side of her cluttered room. Yukiko Okada is singing against a fast and upbeat tempo and for a brief moment Mariya thinks today will be a good day. In forty five seconds she is flat on her back and wondering "Why bother." Mariya did not think everlasting life as a vampire would be so tedious. Life's more boring chores tend to seem unending when you are immortal. It seemed so much more glamorous when her perception of it was endless parties of unbridled debauchery, blood orgies, tormenting handsome vampire hunters, or having to keep on the move so as not to alert the humans. "When was the last time I even had to fight or be on the run?" She could not remember. To make matters worse as if existential dread is not bad enough, it was Saturday and she would have to lead the Black Mass for the local coven of mortals who had pledged their everlasting souls in service to her and more importantly Lucifer. "This used to be fun, it was basically a party with violence and all manner of depravity." For a moment her mind travels back through time and she thinks about the haze of blood soaked and alcohol fueled insanity that being a High Priestess in the service of Satan used to bring. Her mind quickly fast forwards to the present day, to the service last week. Fucking goth dweebs that wear vegan leather and spend most of their time bitching and moaning about what is and isn't goth. Mariya rises only because the record needs to be flipped and decides that she might as well get dressed. With one startling revelation her night goes downhill from there. "Fuck." Mariya stands at her dresser and curses the names of God, Satan, Buddha, Mohammed and any other prophet or deity that she can remember the name of. She is out of underwear and will have to do laundry. The sun is still leaving slight streaks she notices with a very slight smile. "I could just go out running into it." She pictures it and in a darkly comical way how absurd it would be to any who saw it. A pale stark naked woman running out of a cheap studio apartment and promptly exploding in both flashes of light and chunks of gore splattering all within fifty feet. Instead Mariya decides to go commando and puts on the cleanest pair of jeans she has and a white shirt with very little coffee stains. Three weeks worth of clothes are thrown into her duffle bag and she is off to the Laundromat down the street. (after taking the record off the turntable and chugging one more cup of coffee) Thankfully true to form someone at the Laundromat has trustingly left their detergent in an empty clothes basket as theirs are being washed. It had been about thirty five years since Mariya last bought detergent, she didn't see the point when it was always laying around. Soon enough the clothes are in and the washer is doing its thing. Mariya scans the place and notices with something that feels a bit like excitement and old Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles arcade machine. Twenty five scents is put into the machine and three minutes later Raphael has bitten the dust at the hands of the Foot Clan. Mariya takes a seat next to a young woman reading a comic. For a moment Mariya thinks about making polite conversation or at least the coursory question of what is the comic about. The young woman is wearing earbuds so in the end she doesn’t bother. The crushing boredom of being in a Laundromat quickly sets in and Mariya has slumped down in her seat and she resumes scanning the room desperately searching for anything interesting. Like a beacon from heaven or a siren's song on a tumultuous sea Mariya spots the community corkboard and more importantly the vibrant flier on it. Dead center with a thumb tack in each corner. It is a flier advertising a nine dollar trial month at the local twenty four hour gym and they have just put in a bouldering wall. Visions of climbing sheer rock walls in the desert on cloudless nights flood Mariya's mind. What an intense thrill it would be, and obviously she had the time, limitless time, to train and enjoy it. The flier captivated her, drew her into it and she could see herself at the gym (after dark of course) making friends with people who had no idea who The Cure were or what electro or acid Goth were. Normal people who probably liked sushi and decent mid range cars and patagonia, this was her ticket out of the rut she was in. Mariya spent the next hour and a half sitting in the waiting area thinking about the possibilities that lay before her now that she held the flier in her hands. The walk back to her apartment was much more pleasant and each step was taken with a new found joy that gave her long strides. It had begun to rain only slightly, only enough to warp light into something fantastic and otherworldly. There were not many people on the road and no one else was on the sidewalk at this hour. Mariya could not wait until tomorrow night when she would walk into the gym, pay her nine dollars and learn to climb. For a moment she stops dead in her tracks and thinks that it is a bit odd that with all her years on this planet she had not as of yet learned how to rock climb or boulder. Of course she has not learned to make pasta from scratch as of yet either but what the hell maybe next century. The cinema was advertising this months midnight movies in bright neon bordered windows and Mariya stops and looks at the line-up. Two Fridays from now she decides she will go and see Critters. By the time she arrives back home it is in a frenzy to get ready for the Mass and she should have been out the door heading to the Black Church(it's not actually black, it was just christened that in the eighties.)five minutes ago. Wearing a slightly less bloodstained robe and clutching the ceremonial dagger of Ka'Ndarr in her left hand Mariya runs the entire mile and a half from her apartment to the Black Chruch.(once again, not actually black.) The rain has stopped and only the ound of Mariya's panting as she runs and the sounds of her boots through the mud announce her arrival. Thankfully she is somehow the first one at the Black Church. Though unfortunately in her haste she has forgotten a key element of the Black Mass. The live chicken for the sacrifice which usually is bought from the small market off of fifth was forgotten in her mad dash to make it on time, she also has no idea what she will talk about at tonight's mass, though honestly she could just recycle last weeks and punch it up a bit. The mouth breathers that attend would never know. As the few preparations are made before her flock arrives Mariya wipes last weeks dried blood off the altar, lights all the candles and makes sure the inverted cross is clean and looks presentable. The Black Church itself is an old turn of the century rural church about a mile on the outskirts of town and over the last forty years or so it has started falling in on itself, though that does kind of help to give off the whole "Black Mass/Church of Satan" vibe. Slowly they trickle in, the pale, pimply and in desperate need of any sort of guidance in their lives teens who make up the congregation. Hello's are given and they find their seats on the few structurally sound pews still available in the rotting church. The wind rips through the mostly absent ceiling and Mariya stands at the foot of the inverted cross playing up the theatrical element of organized religion. The sermon is soon delivered, it's a rather stirring piece about the importance of always putting yourself before others and remembering that authority is the true root of all evil. (Which is obviously bullshit, but the teenagers are dumb and impressionable and live on a steady diet of black metal, besides Lucifer is not exactly picky about how he gets his souls, just that he gets them.) The Hymns are sung and the communion wine (Bottom shelf red zin) is passed around in the ceremonial goblet(Halloween city, twelve ninety-nine.) and the evening is coming to it's merciful end and Mariya is chomping at the bit to ditch the nerds. "What about the sacrifice?" It's the chubby one in the back who always wears the iron maiden shirt, Mariya has always found him annoying, a real teachers pet kind of kid. "Unfortunately I was not able to procure the blood that our beloved Lucifer craves, and I alone will pay the penance. I hope you my beloved flock will never have to see our Dark Lord's profound and earth shattering anger." Mariya makes a slight bow as she takes back the goblet from the crowd and hopes they bought her theatrical bullshit. The crowd sits in hushed silence as Mariya starts packing things up. "I offer myself as tribute to the one true Lord of man!" Mariya turns around. It's the chubby one in the Iron Maiden t-shirt. She gives him a long hard stare and in doing so notices several different food stains of different ages and severities on his shirt. One of the dorks somewhere in the middle shouts "Hail Satan." "Hail Satan" Mariya responds with extremely forced enthusiasm. Mariya unpacks the dagger she had just put away. Before she can think of a way to shut down this idea the dork in the Iron Maiden shirt is laying on the sacrificial altar and giving her the thumbs up. The congregation all start speaking in "tongues" and Mariya thinks "Fuck it." The knife goes in, the goth kids go wild, and Mariya yanks out the warm just finished beating heart of the kid who up until just recently was wearing the Iron Maiden shirt. The heart is lit on fire on a small metal tray and the goths pray to Lucifer as black smoke billows and hangs low over the heads of all in attendance. Mariya rushes them out and makes a point to practically push them out the door. "Tonight was great, I can't wait until next week!" Says one of the flock as Mariya shoves her out the door of the Black Church. Finally they are all gone and she too can go home. The air is silent and the scent of blood gives the waning night a slight coppery smell. Mariya reaches into her pocket and pulls out the flier for the gym and looks at the climbing wall and smiles. Mariya throws the body of the deceased over her shoulder and figures he shall make a nice if not easy meal and walks out the door. Soon it will be dawn and she will sleep. Tomorrow night she will go to the gym and start her new hobby. Rock climbing, just thinking the words makes Mariya smile more than she has in years.

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