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ephemerlskies · 4 years ago

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emerald dreams: REDACTED | kth

⇢ pairing: taehyung x reader

⇢ genre: series, blackmirror!au, angst, fluff, artist!taehyung, strangers to lovers, set sometime in a dystopian era of technology, taehyung is s o f t

⇢ word count: 4.5k

⇢ warnings: explicit language, memory loss, mentions of death, themes of grief/depression

⇢ summary: in a technologically advanced utopia where a memory can be stored as a data file in a chip inserted in your head, it was entirely impossible to forget anything. when you met taehyung, a young at heart yet talented artist, he garnished an odd familiarity, raising suspicion that some of your memories had been lost in the digital cloud, or worse, erased from your memory chip.

♪ playlist: IDK you yet - alexander 23 • 4 o' clock - v & rm • jamais vu - bts • the story - brandi carlile • moonlight - ariana grande ♪

╰ episode index: 01 | 02 (coming soon)

a/n: if you don't watch black mirror then just imagine that everything is technology based, even the inner mechanisms of your thoughts/mind/memories and social culture has centered around the automation of the human body. also the government is sleazy and controls literally everyone in this au >:) also, i'm going to try and update this weekly!!

Scenario No. 2: Re-test

You didn’t expect to be spending your weekly visit at your favorite coffee shop gasping for air in the single occupancy commode. An unsettling familiarity had reached into your chest and compromised the body of your lungs, now savagely hyperventilating for air, and seized control on the reins of every sensory neuron in your body.

First, it was the sensation of sound. That voice, that unusually specific coffee order, the soft lilt of politeness riding through his etiquettes of ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ struck right in your chest with a shockwave of deja vu, like you’ve heard that order before, a million times before perhaps. No part of you would let go of the fact that for some reason, this stranger was someone you knew very well.

And yet you had no idea who he was.

“Hi, how are you?” He smiled to ease the nerves of the overworked barista on this Sunday afternoon. Your ears picked up his husky, sweet tone through the scuttle of customers walking in and out of the shop and a commotion of side conversations that filled the room. It was quite noisy, enough so that it muffled any specific utterances, but the bass of his voice had met your ears with a strong posture of familiarity.

You looked over to the sweater draped over his frame that fit snugly against his broad shoulders. That was when your visual senses were overrun with the muted forest green of the knitted jumper. You’ve seen this color green. To be fair, green was always secured in your life abundantly through your own will. You had always loved this color and demonstrated this through small displays such as picking the green straw from a bundle of multicolored ones, or scanning over a set of shirts to find which one had the most green in it.

You surrounded yourself with a life full of green, but when this green sweater was paired with the voice there was a strange jolt of reminiscence.

It was not just a sweater, it was a sweater that you have touched, even worn before. And when he wore it, it wasn’t just any green. It was his green.

His figure drew closer to you as he waited at the side bar for his drink to be called, sending a waft of his scent to nullify those of fresh brewed coffee and pastries. Along with your eyes and ears, your nose now fell to the magnetism of this stranger.

He smelled of fresh evergreen with a bit of pinewood, mixing into an overwhelming oaky aroma. As the smells that resembled a tranquil forest ruminated through your lungs and your bloodstream, it weakened your body to a state of paralysis. Your motor skills were numbed to endow a series of mental backflips to figure out where this estranged attraction was coming from, and why it was him who provoked it.

Standing comatose in the middle of a populated coffee shop meant the clash of your body into another's was bound to occur. And of course, it was his body that bumped you out of the trance of obscured memories. It was his arms that held your shoulders steady so you wouldn’t topple over and spill your latte over yourself.

“Oh, sorry! Didn’t see you there. Are-” His eyes studied your aghast expression, “Hey, are you okay?”

This marked the compromise of your visual sensory. You looked right into his eyes, kind and concerned, and your surroundings had melted away into a whirl of unidentifiable colors. Your body was transported to a purgatory that rested between reality and a dream-like setting, which eventually molded itself into actuality before your eyes.

Redacted File No. 6

Suddenly you turned your head side to side and the territory that was once a café was no more, and had alchemized into a zone of unparalleled comfort. To your left, you were warmed by a wood-burning fireplace with stones crested along the frame of the pit. Your body was covered in a blurred canvas of forest green, and there were two hands holding your body gently and lovingly. It was a vision so incredibly clear and intricate it couldn’t be conjured through imagination or illusion, but a very real and vivid memory.

“Excuse me? I’m sorry… You’re okay right?” His jostling hands fainted the memory that swept you from the cafe. You blinked a few times before your eyes could refocus and land you to your present circumstances.

The man’s firm grip hadn’t abandoned your shoulders even though you regrounded your balance, which quickened the pace of your heart. They you earnestly, that even though you were certainly not going to fall over, he wouldn’t have let go. Without more than an array of unintelligible stutters to confirm you were okay, because you weren’t okay, you hobbled backward quite ungracefully to the privacy of the bathroom. After your rushed retreat, you tried to analyze the string of memories that pervaded your mind.

How do you know this man? Were these your memories? Or perhaps your memory chip glitched and downloaded files that didn’t belong to you?

The blunder of confusion racked your head with a slight tension headache. What was once a temporary occupancy of the restroom turned into a marathoned hideout until you could safely assume the stranger’s drink was made and he would leave the vicinity.

You checked your phone to count the duration of time spent. It had been about ten minutes since you pathetically holed yourself up, and it would be about five more minutes until you felt you could confidently emerge and escape.

You knew him, and for some reason it sent you into a fearful sequester.

Luckily, just last week you downloaded an upgraded storage plan which gave you access to all your past memories.

You activated the chip residing in your temple to trace every single unit in the archives, even the ones from as early as your birth, to see if anyone, including the likes of a passing stranger, a waiter that took your order three weeks ago, even a student from your high school class, resembled the man in the café. There were no records in your memory files of someone who echoed the same unsettling familiarity that this man had.

If the advanced technology that contained each capsule of every moment in time that you have ever experienced couldn’t give you the data on this man, then perhaps it was just an unusual coincidence.

One of those Twilight Zone-esque occurrences that isn’t deployed through factual evidence. Though you weren't entirely met with closure for this reasoning, it was enough to cope through the rest of your lengthened stay in the restroom.

What battered your precisely timed and nearly successful plan to avoid further interactions with this man was the light knock against the door. And it was the feeling of guilt that there must be other customers who planned on using the bathroom for its intended purpose that hoisted you up and had you reluctantly vacating the protected area.

Though, it was punishingly ironic that the one who had torn you from your sanctuary was the same person who put you there in the first place.

“Sorry,” He apologized about three times within the small window of time he’d been confronted by you and you already caught on to his habit of perpetual remorse, “Um, I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. I bumped into you and you kinda… freaked then ran and hid in the bathroom.”

If he weren’t so considerate to a stranger that was acting oddly evasive, this would have been easy. But he was considerate, and this was unbelievably difficult.

“Yeah um,” Your eyes sank down to rest on the comforting hue of his sweater, “I’m, uh, I'm okay. Thank you.”

He cleared his throat, dislodging the nervous laugh blocking his words.

“Okay well, I was just wondering if you were all good. You seemed a little shaken up back there.” Frankly, he still sensed something about him was off-putting to you, but he tried to deny it for the moment.

Your assurances fell gravely short of convincing since you couldn’t even bring your eyes to level with his. The soft-spoken gesture of kindness made you feel like a helpless animal that would surrender at the slightest sign of danger. It was a fair assessment for you acted as though his accidental collision into you through a crowded space was the end of the world.

“Yeah, sorry. Thank you!” You chirped to imitate a normal reaction despite this tremendously abnormal situation. “I was just um… It's just one of those days, ya know?”

Then, it was his smile that cluttered your sensation of touch. He was standing a respectable distance from you, however, his smile touched you. It cornered you into blurting out something even more peculiar than the overwhelming deja vu that had been commencing the moment you noticed him.

“Do I-” You paused to lower your voice that could have outsourced to the collection of ruckus in the café. Now in a whisper, you continued, “Do I know you?”

He didn’t offer a voiced response, but an equally bewildered expression. You couldn't quite read what this implied so you assumed he thought you were crazy, maybe even a bit creepy.

“Sorry! Fuck, that’s so creepy. I’m just gonna go.” Before you had the chance to push past him and the billowing clouds of regret, he obstructed your path to the doorway with his body.

“No! I think I know you too. Like, I’ve never seen you but I remember you. Like… Like a dream.” He scaled the length of your body with his eyes, which only manufactured his intuition into an undoubtable certainty. “I know you. How do I know you?”

“Hell if I know. I’m just as confused as you.” You felt your body slumping into itself under his gaze. He was attentive to every detail of you, from the length of your hair to the twitch of your fingertips, making you feel over exposed to this stranger that wasn’t a stranger.

“Well, do you wanna maybe sit? Have a coffee with me?” He propagated his interest like there was no reason to be afraid which only intimidated you further. There wasn’t a real threat in his invitation, however accepting it felt like you were walking on thin ice.

The government agent standing guard with a perfect earshot of every conversation wiring through the small café didn’t help ease your nerves either.

“I really should be heading home soon.” Guilt worked quickly to try and compensate for the discouraged expression on his face, “But… if you give me your number I’ll call you and maybe we can go out for lunch or something?”

He traded his grim with excitement while pulling a pen from his pocket and walking over to the condiments bar to write his number on a napkin. You had no clue as to why, but the fact that he had a pen on hand was strikingly nostalgic, much so as every other detail you had acquired from him.

Although entirely unheard of, you felt like this new knowledge of him was not adding to the collection, but rather dusting old artifacts that had simply been forgotten. You weren’t learning things about him, but instead remembering them; the more you stood watching him scribble his name and number on the napkin, the deeper you entrenched yourself in this theory.

Not to mention, you couldn’t recall the last time someone favored using a pen over a keyboard and a paper napkin over a digital contact entered on your phone.

What kind of person carries around a pen in the age of modern technology?

“Thank you. I’m ___, by the way.” Your hand wavered a bit before holding out to greet him, and when his hand made contact, you could have sworn on your own life that this wasn’t the first time it happened.

This was no introduction. It was a reunion.

The fix of his gaze had suggested he too felt reminiscent with the feeling of your hand.

A shared inability to let go held your hands together, trying to harness a bit of recognition or recall a social function where you two might have met in passing. Neither one of you had shown any intention to pull away, which dragged the formality of shaking hands into a gesture of mutual wonder; now you were not so much exchanging a handshake but rather holding each other. Holding tightly, as if you were rediscovering a mass of feelings that would give you an answer.

However, the answer was not generous enough to make itself available to either of you.

It could have been hours until you were able to unriddle this strange sensation, so you made the preventative move of pulling away before the warmth concocting between your hands would produce a light sweat on your palm.

He too seemed to retract upon regaining his sensibilities, but there was a glint in his eyes that suggested he would have held on for longer, maybe even forever if necessary. If it would regroup the unattainable and partially inexistent memories into cognizance.

“Taehyung. Kim Taehyung.”

Redacted File No. 12

You clung with desperate persistence onto the flaccid hand. Trailing up the arm was an indiscernible figure that had no features, no notable detailing, not even a vague outline of facial structure; just an ethereal glow that projected throughout the entire room. The nebulous haze terminated any identifiable aspect of the room except the hand you were holding, so you focused on the scant detail your eyes offered.

There was no specified context, no real evidence that you had to hold on, but something deep within you was urging for it. Some omnipotent instinct which prophesied that if you let go of the hand, you would in turn be letting go of the world.

You had to hold on.

However your hands wouldn’t obey you. Each time you tried to tighten your fingers, it felt as if the hand would continue slipping from your grasp. Or maybe, your hands weren't gripping at all.

They were numb, or paralyzed, and unable to execute your urgencies. The more force you exerted into your dire intentions, the easier it was for the hand to grow limp and melt through your fingers like liquid. It was frustrating, your willful attempts to hold on seemed to elicit the opposite effect as the hand, unowned by a certain being, resigned from yours.

“I don’t want to let go. I don’t want to let go.” You chanted through the tears, feeling as though that would somehow ignite a stronghold on the lifeless hand falling away.

But even so, it did fall away.

Perhaps the pain of it was that it wasn’t you who was letting go, but the hand that was being taken away from you. That you had been fighting a losing battle far beyond the prospects of your own decisions or control.

You begged for mercy, but were bestowed with your hands clean of what it was trying so desperately to hold onto. The hand slipped and when you peaked through the glaze of tears, your knuckles and fingers were gripping airy, cold emptiness.

“I don’t want to let go. I don’t want to let go. I don’t want to let go.”

Soon you were captured in a perpetual aria of pleas to the ears of a God that would not listen. Unsettling despair had mutilated the illuminating glow of the room to bleak darkness. The world of colors had fallen absent akin to the cold hand vaporizing alongside the dispersal of light.

Then, everything was black.

Your eyes shot open with deep distraught.

The full moon flashed against your dampened face; half of the moisture sourced from a cold sweat and half from the heavy tears pouring from your eyes.

You knew the only explanation for this dream, which resonated more closely to a memory than a figment of sleepful imagination, was curated by the peculiar events that took place earlier today.

Soon, the dream drifted from your mind as consciousness took its place. Your tardy response to write the sparse remnants of it had left you with nothing but a distorted plot of what transpired during your slumber.

Widening your awakening through long sips of water had forced you into an obsessive rewinding of your memory files. It was a shame there wasn’t technology yet to store memories of your dream, or you’d have been replaying the one you just dreamt about a hundred times.

You scanned through a collection of moments in the afternoon when you first met Taehyung. The clear, digital picture of him glassed over your eyes, taking the place once inhabited by the moon, as you pressed the play button on the handlebar of functions.

“Taehyung. Kim Taehyung.”

You rewound no later than a second after he introduced himself back to the beginning.

“Taehyung. Kim Taehyung.”

Rewind. 0.5 x speed.

“Taehyung. Kim Taehyung.” Said in a distorted voice from the ‘reduce speed’ function you equipped.

“Kim Taehyung.” You muttered to the empty room and the bright moon.

Sleeping was abstracted to an impossibility, and for the sake of your sanity, you walked over fish out the napkin in your coat pocket. It took you a while to move on from meticulously inspecting Taehyung’s handwriting.

The aimless effort to recall if it was the penmanship of some classmate had slackened to yet another unmet hope. Taehyung didn’t reside in your memories, but claimed quite an existence in your intuition. However, that wasn’t satisfying enough. You settled with the unsolved familiarity, though not before a lengthy wrestle between your eyes and the seven numbers scribbled into the napkin.

After dancing with the idea of it, you resolved some courage to finally dial. Each ping of the phone had you dreading for the automated message to inform you the recipient was not available at the moment, that you would have to hang up or wait for the tone to leave a message. Little by little your spirited nerve had depleted as you were now practicing what message you would leave Taehyung in his voicemail box, praying that it wasn’t full.

“Hello?” The sound of his voice interrupted the seventh or eighth ring, along with your rehearsal of the voicemail you assumed you’d have to leave being that the moon had been aging the sky into midnight.

“Oh! Oh, sorry I didn’t expect you to pick up.” After the chaotic pounding in your chest settled, you realized how nonsensical you sounded. Everything you methodically planned to say had been scattered by his unprecedented answer.

Instead of asking why you would call if you expected him not to pick up, he asked with a kind curiosity:

“Who is this?” He didn’t sound tired, in fact it sounded as if he had been hard at work preceding this call.

“Oh yeah! It’s ___, from the coffee shop. You remember me right?” Though you powered through, the worry was quite deafening. Taehyung seemed to pick up on it and diffused it with a gentle chuckle.

“Of course I remember.” On the other end of the line, he had been penciling a sketch on a blank page in his notebook.

The serenity of the stars and moon pinned on the navy blue sky never failed to spark inspiration. Taehyung was the type to refuse passing up a surge of an artistic muse, even if that meant he would shed a few hours of sleep from his routine. No matter the time or place, he always had a pen on hand to honor his heart’s unremitting passion.

He loved the moon and stars. He loved it so much as one would love a dear friend. He wished to be a part of the scenes of lights that hovered just out of reach, but could only settle on capturing a piece of the starry heavens on paper with his trusty pencil, sketchbook, and emerald-tinted muse.

“It’s late to be calling, but you’re lucky I was awake.” He said to hide how ecstatic he was you had actually called.

For someone you had just met, or at least you thought you just met, he threaded a flirtatious coyness in his response. It difficult to hush the winged eruption in your stomach because of that.

“Lucky, huh.” You repeated through a mumbled laugh, “I was just… I was thinking.”

“About what?” He had placed his phone on speaker mode and laid it next to his sketchbook.

There was a new inspiration that bore a louder siren than that of the moon and the stars. He sifted through the memory files throughout his day to the minute he first bumped into you, and though your face had been ingrained quite clearly behind his eyelids with each blink, he relied on the accuracy of a reference to perfect his drawing of you; not to mention he projected the image of your face to delight his undeniable attraction and to moderate the wildly romanticized version of you in his head.

Perhaps if he hadn't, he wouldn't be able to discern your face from the arena of glimmering stars scattered along the shaded skies.

“Just about how I think I was too quick to pass your offer.”

“Really?” That endearing lilt hope in his voice, the excitement expressed, acted as some puppeteer that manipulated the corner of your lips to lift into a smile.

No muscle in your body could ever be moved with the same conviction as it did when he was the reason for it. It bewildered you, almost to the point of frustration, as to why he had this power over you.

I just met him. I'm already getting this worked up? You thought how absurd it was you'd fallen this quickly, hoping it would ground you to the reality that he was still a stranger you hadn’t exchanged more than two conversations with.

Though, reality and memories and data files had all been obscured ever since you met Taehyung which was fascinating more than it was disorienting.

“Would you want to, maybe, grab coffee? Say next Thursday?” Your hand was subconsciously gripping the bed sheets, just like the way you gripped the disembodied hand in your dream, and awaited his response with full-blown suspense.

“I’ll see you next Thursday, ___.” Taehyung's confirmation put all your anxiety to rest, as well as your tightly clamped hand around the cotton fabric.

“I’ll see you.” You mimicked as if that would make the idea of seeing Taehyung again any less surreal. He laughed at this and brushed up a few finishing touches on his drawing.

“So just to clarify.” His pause gave entry for curiosity to wire through your head.

“Yes?”

“When you said you were thinking… you were thinking of me?” You wanted the upper hand to be reinstated with you, but your shy chuckle was no match to the smirk adopted on his lips that you couldn’t see, but you knew was there. You knew he was prideful when he swept the rug right out from under your feet, and you were right.

“Perhaps. And what if I was?” You framed your question to render your intimidation as flattery. Though, you had no idea how convincing this facade actually was and that it came off more suggestive than you had expected. There was a part of you that had fraternized with the romantic idea of Taehyung which might have registered your motive to reciprocate an undertone beyond platonic.

“Then that would be one thing we have in common.” He sounded responsive to your flirting and raised the bar significantly.

Your eyes and smile were directed towards the scenery displayed by your window, but they were not dedicated to the moonlit beauty of the diamond encrested sky. Though the midnight glades of stars were the ones to witness your smile, it was, without a shadow of a doubt, dedicated to Taehyung.

He was staring at the same moon, the same plot of stars, so perhaps you were looking into each other. When the moon twinkled, it looked awfully similar to a smile. Your smile.

For the moment, there was a radio silence that splintered through the two speakers of your and Taehyung’s phones. Even if the use of his hands weren’t engaged by his needful recreation of your face through his art, if his hands were left unused, he wouldn’t have mustered the discipline to end the call. Your unoccupied hands were trying to find any employment so you could have some excuse for not hanging up as well, not that there was anything else to be discussed.

Again, it felt familiar. The feeling of hesitance to be the first one to hang up despite the conversation’s recoil.

The cohesive idleness of you and Taehyung was unprovoked and ran out for about a minute. Neither of you had the intention to sever the virtual communion quite yet. The awkwardness of sitting in silence on the phone with a newly acquainted stranger was a delicacy compared to preemptively ending the call.

At one point, you were about to question if he had hung up; but the rhythmic and light breathing told you otherwise. And because of that mutual need to stay on the line, it seemed to be unreasonable to hang up, save for the yawn that eventually trimmed the call to an end.

“You’re tired.” He stated, now prompted with a yawn of his own upon hearing yours. “Goodnight, ___.”

“Goodnight, Taehyung.” Saying his name out loud sent you into that same blend of reminiscence and nostalgia.

His name was not unexplored by your tongue, that much was certain, and the thought of putting your entire life on hold to discover why it felt that way was a tempting venture. Why when he said your name, it felt like sitting in front of a wood-burning fireplace under the security of a green sweater and wrapped in safe arms.

More than that, you wanted to know if he felt all these things too.

“I’ll see you?” You asked instead of saying that dreadful word 'goodbye'.

“I’ll see you.” He repeated before reluctantly hanging up.

“___.” He whispered your name, hoping the inky sky would design it in the stars for the world to remember forever.

Hoping that the next hours, which would surely be spent on multiple sketched renditions of your face, would amount in some revelation of the mystifying familiarity. He believed shedding a few graphite imitations onto the surface of his sketchbook, soaked by the glow of moonlight, would somehow make him remember everything hidden in the dark compartments of his heart.

However, if it didn’t, he would be okay with it. Because at least he knew he would see you again.

“Meeting place: Silver Lining Café.”

“Thank you, Agent Park. Heighten surveillance on the two subjects.”

#bangtanarmynet #btswriterscorner #ficswithluv #btsgoldnet #bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts writing #taehyung series #bts series #taehyung fanfic #taehyung fluff #taehyung x reader #artist!taehyung #rubycoast #emerald dreams: REDACTED

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williamshamspeare · 3 years ago

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Oh! Well good luck on the pal transferring. I got a new phone last year bc my old phone literally didnt have enough storage to download the new update - amii

I had to get a new phone because the charger plugged in funky and the battery life was abysmal

#still is #I just have a better phone now

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bubonickitten · 6 years ago

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Hey, I saw an old post of yours about you finding a ton of dogs and bringing them home in Minecraft, and you mentioned that you were playing with mods. I was wondering if you'd be willing to recommend some good mods to me? Been playing with them for awhile but it's hard to find more good ones

I’m sorry it’s taken over a month for me to answer this – I’ve been using the mobile app way more than the browser lately and I always forget to check my inbox on mobile.

Anyway, I made a mod rec post before but it was almost two years ago and I’ve changed up my mod lineup a lot since, so here’s an updated list.

Right now I’m using Minecraft 1.12.2 and Minecraft Forge 1.12.2-14.23.5.2814. (Looks like there’s a newer edition of Forge, I just haven’t updated it yet.) Also some mods are dependent on other mods or require you to download additional resource packs/libraries/etc., so just make sure you check the requirements before downloading (probably goes without saying, but just in case).

I’m putting the list under a cut because otherwise this post will be an absolute wall of text.

PERFORMANCE MODS

OptiFine: This one’s a performance mod that aims to boost FPS and improve the graphics.

NotEnoughIDs:This expands Minecraft’s ID limit for blocks and items, which is necessary if you’re using a ton of mods that add a lot of new content.

CONVENIENCE MODS

Just Enough Items (JEI):This one is an item/block/recipe viewing tool with a search feature. There’s also a cheat mode that lets you just drop whatever item you want into your inventory.

Inventory Tweaks:This adds new options for managing/sorting your inventory (on your person or in storage chests) and some convenience features, like automatically replacing tools or item stacks when broken/depleted as long as you have more in your inventory (which also includes your backpacks, if you use the Backpacks mod listed below).

Multi-Hotbar:Just gives you 2-3 additional hotbars, so you aren’t just limited to nine slots and don’t have to constantly go into your inventory screen to move things around if there are more than nine tools/stacks you use regularly.

JourneyMap: This one automatically maps your Minecraft world as you explore – there’s a minimap in the upper right corner of the screen, and it can be expanded to view the whole map if you want. It also lets you set waypoints (which you can teleport to), with an option to mark them with visible beacons that can be seen from the overworld. It also automatically creates waypoints when you die, so you can easily teleport back to where you died once you respawn.

Nature’s Compass:In-game biome finder, with teleport feature. Also works with biomes added by mods (e.g. Biomes O’ Plenty).

Find Your Way:Adds some new compasses to point you in the direction of various overworld structures (strongholds, mansions, villages, etc.).

Backpacks: Adds recipes for backpacks. By default they’re 3x9 but by crafting and adding backpack pouches, they can be expanded. They start out brown but can be dyed. They can also be nested, so if you want a backpack within a backpack within a backpack, you can do that. Which I do. Excessively. My inventory situation is… hellishly recursive. But at least I can collect stuff forever before I have to go back home and stash it all.

Fence Jumper: A very simple convenience mod that lets players jump over fences. Doesn’t apply to mobs.

Survival Flight:This just lets you use Creative Mode’s flight mechanic in Survival Mode. Is it cheating? Probably, but it’s your Minecraft world and you can fly if you want to.

WORLDGEN/ITEM ADDITIONS MODS

Quark: This one adds a lot of new features – blocks, decoration, mobs, automation options, underground biomes, recipes, convenience tweaks, etc. etc. etc. Main website with descriptions of all the added features can be found here.

Roguelike Dungeons: As the description says, “a mod that generates large underground dungeon structures which have a procedurally generated layout and loot.”

Actually Additions:Adds a lot of random stuff, check the manual to see the full list.

Chisel:More decorative blocks, including many new texture variations of vanilla Minecraft blocks.

Biomes O’ Plenty: Adds over 60 new biomes to the world, with new trees, blocks, plants, etc. Works best with the creation of a new world, but you can make it work with an existing world with some extra steps (see the installation section here). It’s pretty simple, but you need to download an NBT Editor to do it (last time I had to do it, I used NBT Explorer).

Terraqueous:New fruit trees, flowers, mineable cloud blocks, tools, etc.

Natura:More new worldgen stuff.

Ferdinand’s Flowers:Literally just adds A Lot of new kinds of flowers to the overworld and makes things very, very colorful.

Pam’s HarvestCraft:More crops, food recipes, etc.

Fairy Lights: Adds recipes for creating hanging lights, string lights, etc. for decoration and lighting options.

MrCrayfish’s Furniture Mod: Adds recipes for furniture. Mostly good for decoration, but some are also functional (e.g. cabinets and refrigerators that provide storage).

MOBS/CREATURES MODS

Mo’ Creatures: Adds a bunch of new mobs to the game (passive, neutral, hostile, and tamable).Many of the tamable mobs can be used as mounts, such as big cats, wyverns, manticores, giant scorpions, elephants, komodo dragons, dolphins, manta rays, bears, and several different kinds of horse (including unicorns, winged horses, ghost horses, and fairy horses). The config files are straightforward and easy to edit if you want to tweak the spawn rates of different mobs. Note: The Forge page says that DrZhark’s Custom Mob Spawner is required, but when I was having trouble with another mod’s custom mobs not spawning properly, Custom Mob Spawner turned out to be the culprit. I removed it, and it seems like Mo’ Creatures is still working even without Custom Mob Spawner, and it takes far less time to load a world than it did before.

Dragon Mounts 2:Tameable dragon mounts. I love them.

Ice and Fire:Adds new mythical mobs – dragons, sirens, cockatrices, sea serpents, etc.

Doggy Talents:Your tamed wolves can Do More Stuff.

Wolf Armor and Storage: What it says on the tin. Wolf armor is very similar to horse armor, and chests can be added to wolves like they can be added to llamas.

DIMENSIONS MODS

Twilight Forest: Adds a new dimension, the Twilight Forest. The list of added features can be found on the Wiki here. Each new biome has its own boss (usually with a corresponding dungeon) to defeat (bosses can be defeated more than once since there’s at least one per biome and, like in the overworld, there’s more than one of each kind of biome in the world). It follows a progression system, meaning certain areas (and therefore boss fights) are locked until you defeat other bosses (e.g. certain biomes having a weather effect that renders it virtually impossible to traverse until defeating the boss and getting the item that will allow you to pass through the area). It can be a bit laggy but it’s still fun.

Advent of Ascension:Adds several new dimensions with their own biomes, mobs, items, bosses, etc. It’s fun but I don’t recommend it if you hate clowns because there is an entire clown dimension and even though you can avoid that, there’s also this one clown mob that spawns in the overworld underground, you’ll just be minding your business mining and suddenly BOOM creepy murder clown in the shadows. Also, if you’re using Mo’ Creatures, don’t use the Custom Mob Spawner because it’ll prevent Ascension’s mobs from spawning properly.

Cavern II:Adds new cavern dimensions to explore, new blocks and ores, and a miner stats/progression system. It’s the successor to the original Cavern mod. One of my favorite things is the randomite ore, which drops a random item when it’s mined (which can include items added by other mods).

The Betweenlands:This one adds a dark, swampy dimension with its own lore and survival challenges (e.g. you can only eat what you can gather in the Betweenlands and any food from the overworld rots when entering the dimension; there are new mechanics like food sickness, player decay, and tool corrosion that occur when spending long periods of time in the Betweenlands; etc.).

Erebus:Erebus is the “dimension of the arthropods” and is exactly what it says on the tin.

Better Nether:Some tweaks to the Nether that make it more fun to explore – new biomes, new mobs, new structures, etc.

AbyssalCraft:New eldritch dimensions, mobs, biomes, items/blocks, etc. You do some inadvisable rituals, read some questionable tomes, collect some dubious artifacts, encounter things with lots of eyes and tentacles… oh and one time, when I was playing one of the earlier versions of the mod, Shoggoths invaded my home and killed all my horses and left a residue all over everything and I had to restore an old backup save, so. I recommend reading the wiki before you do any summoning rituals.

VoidCraft:This is an older mod no longer in development, but if you’re like me and get bored easily and download every new dimension mod you can find, have at it.

The Aether II:This is the sequel to the old Aether mod (which also has a reboot for Minecraft 1.12, here). It’s still in development and I actually haven’t had a chance to explore the new dimension much yet myself, but it looks interesting.

#xxrozepetalxx #ask #minecraft #minecraft mods #long post

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gloryinthethunder · 6 years ago

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Glory in the Thunder revised + Resplendent in the Sky are OUT

After LITERALLY YEARS of very slow progress due to my health problems, Aspects of the Divinity, Book One: Glory in the Thunder revised edition and Aspects of the Divinity, Book Two: Resplendent in the Sky are finished, done, and OUT. Right now they are only available as direct download from my cloud storage, because if I wait until I have the energy to upload to other distribution services then it will just never happen. Yes, they’re free! More on why they’re free down below.

Download - Google Drive Download - Dropbox

(The PDF is formatted as a printed book. .mobi format is for Kindle. .epub format is for iBooks and most other readers that aren’t Kindle.)

Aspects of the Divinity is my life project, a story about queerness and mental illness set in a fantasy version of the Silk Road. The road’s cultures worship a handful of people who are bound to powers cleaved from the Will of the World. The combined length of the first two books is well over a thousand pages, and I still have more books to write.

As you might guess, I myself am both queer and mentally ill. I finished the first edition of Glory in the Thunder in 2013 when I was still barely healthy enough to hold down a job, but since 2015 I have been on disability. Disability payments have kept me alive and I have worked on my writing when I am able; I often go weeks or months at a time unable to write a single word. I’m in no shape to hold down an aggressive schedule and I don’t know how long the third book will take, but if I got through this then I can get through the next book. This is all to say that the books are free because they’re something I’ve done for myself at my own pace while I am healing.

Anyway, if you like the idea of a gay princess and her lady knight, or a sweet rural boy being entangled in the affairs of a beautiful but distrusting nobleman, or old people that are really explicitly canonically queer, or angry women in general, have I got the story for you!

Content warnings: The age rating is teen. There are no sex scenes. There are violent scenes. The narrative occasionally touches on the subject of suicide, especially in the second book. The font used in the PDF is IM Fell Great Primer. I think that’s everything.

Download - Google Drive Download - Dropbox

Oh yeah, the rest of the pages on this tumblr site need to be updated, but it can wait. Only use links in this post for now.

#fiction #original fiction #lgbt fiction #Gay Fiction

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yooniesim · 5 years ago

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hi there :> if it isn’t too much to ask, i would like to know what you use to play sims 4. im going shopping for a new computer and i already know that im looking for a computer that will allow me to download cc (lots of it) and create it, freely. sorry for the bother, but i would really appreciate the help!

hiya!! it’s no bother at all!! to be honest, im no expert in building a pc as I bought mine around 2013 and it was pre-built, and I admit I didn’t do that much research being an eager teen lol. I’d actually like to get a new one myself. But, mine plays sims well with ultra settings, reshade, and currently 13 GB of cc (and plenty of other games on ultra, like skyrim, fallout, etc).

I don’t think they sell my exact one anymore but I got mine from Cybertron PC. It has an AMD 4130 quad core processor, 8 GB of RAM, and 1 TB of storage space. I would 100% recommend getting 1 TB of space or more bc I’m almost full on mine from downloading lots of cc, games, and mods for other games. As far as my graphics card goes I have a Nvidia GTX 750TI. I’m sure you could get a better one these days for the same price but it works out just fine for me! However, I’m sure games are just going to get even more intensive as time goes on. So I would focus on processor, graphics card, a power supply that works with those, storage space and having enough RAM. Oh, and at least a few fans inside so it doesn’t get overheated! I have 3 in mine.

Anywho, like I said I’m nowhere near an expert on computers and I’m sure you can find a much better updated one than mine! And if anyone else knows this better than me/has actual good advice please comment haha 😂

#asks #hyungsty #ceci speaks

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virgiliananxiety · 6 years ago

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The Dark and the Light

GUYS I FINALLY GET TO POST THIS

This is the first chapter for my fic for the @sanderssidesbang! It will update approximately every two weeks, but updates won’t start for at least another three weeks (I really need a break from this fic). Pairings: Eventual Prinxiety

Word Count: 6.2k

Warnings: Mild violence and non-graphic gore, panic attack

Read it on AO3

This was really not how Virgil had planned on his evening going.

First off, the date he had been on was actually going pretty well. The guy was nice, and seemed kind of into the whole “dark and mysterious” aesthetic. That was, probably, until Virgil got a text with his latest assignment. Which started in five minutes.

Secondly, once he reached the location, a small concrete warehouse, which housed the head personnel of Deceit’s main rival drug ring, there were...complications. The mission was simple, go in, get the information he needed, slit the throats of whoever saw him, and get out.

Complications came in the form of the little asshole who saw him not being too cocky to call for backup.

“Deceit?” He snarled in response to the chatter in his earpiece. He was hidden in the shadows behind a crate, but by this point, the shadows were starting to fill the room. “What do you want?”

“Anxiety, dear,” Fuck, one of them is right there. “It’s come to light that some of our intel on this base was a little...off,” No shit. Left hook, hit him with a few more shadows, dart to the neck. Why the fuck did he have to scream? Think, Virgil, think! “It turns out that there are about fifty guards on the premises, and from what I’m seeing of traffic patterns, more are on their way.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Footsteps, there were more coming. But suddenly, the room went completely black. Not shadows black, that would take up too much of Virgil’s energy, but the pitch darkness was–

“Unfortunately, I am not. Though I did shut off their power,” That would explain it. “Which should buy you a little extra time. So I would get that information and get out quick, if I were you.”

Of course, because it was fucking Deceit, he still needed to get the information. Great.

Looking down at the map on his wristband, the exit from the main storage room was only about 35 feet away. But in that 35 feet, there were seven sentries. Just fucking dandy.

The first was, well, an idiot. They charged blindly, and Virgil blocked their throws easily, flipping them over his knee. The second was more tactful, parrying as he jabbed. Their dance lasted for a while, the preamble to each move hidden in the darkness, before Virgil finally stabbed a tranquilizer into their neck.

The third was fast, but not fast enough. The fourth fell after an elbow to the solar plexus, and the fifth slashed Virgil with a jagged blade before he knocked them down. Shit, that might be deep. No time to think about it, and he hit the sixth, but they swept a leg behind him, knocking him clean off of his feet. He landed on his side. Hard. Shadows in their mouth, down to the lungs, and...release as they let out their last breath. Dammit, Virgil, why’d you have to follow that instinct? The power flickered back on, and Virgil hit the seventh with a quick dart to the neck, now that he could finally see. He could feel through his shadows, but that didn’t mean he could see in the dark.

Third left, up the stairs, override the lock, down the hall to the main hard drive. And he ran, long midnight purple jacket trailing behind him as he jumped up the stairs. In the distance more footsteps trailed behind him, but he cloaked himself in shadows, keeping close to the walls. Pressing the device Logan had given him (though he’d modified it for more...sinister usage) against the lock, Virgil took stock of his injuries. Cut in the crook between his left shoulder and neck, scrapes and bruises lining his sides, and even through his gloves he could feel his knuckles splitting. Again.

The unlocking mechanism gave a satisfied click, and Virgil shouldered the door open, reminding himself of the additional bruise he had there. He broke into a sprint again, the servers were finally in view.

But because Virgil wasn’t planning on downloading anything remotely tonight, his software wasn’t activated. So, he had to call his roommate.

“Hey, Roman?”

“What’s up Virgil? You need me to pick you up from somewhere?” It was a well know fact that Roman was the only one in their friend group with a car.

“No, I’m good. Is Logan there?” Virgil and Logan were supposed to meet up for post date (over) analysis about seven minutes ago. Logan was never late.

“Yeah, one sec.” There was a rustling as Roman’s cell was passed from one side of the room to the other, where Logan was, most likely, parked in his customary spot in Virgil’s desk chair.

“Hey, Lo, I’m really sorry I’m running late.” He heard a huff from the other side of the line, but knew that Logan didn’t really mind. “But I need you to do something on my computer.”

“Is this a simple request? Or one that would require a seperate... technological interfacing?” Virgil could practically see him skeptically eyeing Roman from across the room. Virgil was the only one that Logan had ever told about his powers, how he was able to interface with most technology, and how that allowed him to develop some inventions of his own.

“Simple. I just need you to log in, and press activate on the window that’ll pop up.” He heard the keyboard clicking as Logan typed in his password, and then a mouse click as he activated the software, punctuated by the affirmative beep from Virgil’s wristband. DOWNLOADING FILES: 3% COMPLETE.

“What do you need remote downloading for?” Logan asked, seemingly trying to pass the time. 16% COMPLETE.

“Oh, I had to stop at the library and get a book, but I didn’t feel like getting a thumb drive out.” He felt bad lying to his best friend, but he knew that if Logan found out, it would result in a) Logan trying to get Virgil to stop, and ending up captured or killed by Deceit, b) Logan trying to help Virgil, and ending up captured and used by Deceit, or c) Logan trying to get Virgil out of his predicament, and ending up captured or killed by Deceit.

What was his predicament, exactly? Well, that traces back a long way, through many past traumas, foster homes, packed bags, and escape attempts. Back to when a man with scales on his face told a scared 14 year old boy that he could take him in and make the shadows stop. But that man ended up not being so nice, and now Virgil was trapped.

Footsteps broke through Virgil’s thoughts, but they were far off. 47% COMPLETE. “Logan, I’ve gotta go, I’ll talk to you later.” He ended the call, cutting off his friend’s goodbye, which he was surely going to hear about later.

He scanned his map, and found that there was only one other way out, straight up through an abandoned elevator shaft. Clambering onto one of the server towers, he hunched in the dark as the first hostile entered.

“I don’t see anything here,” they said into a crackling walkie-talkie. Virgil took another slow step, but the circuit below him creaked. Shit. “Wait, hold that thought.” 89% COMPLETE.

“Fuck it,” Virgil cursed under his breath, and broke into a sprint, his feet pounding against the metal. He heard the sentry yell something into his comm system, and Virgil fired a dart messily over his shoulder, he didn’t have the energy for more shadows.

93% COMPLETE. He raced to the end of the room. 94% COMPLETE. More guards charged into the room. 95% COMPLETE. Bullets whizzed past him, one passing only a few inches from his temple. 96% COMPLETE. He skidded to a stop as he reached the end of the room, a large piece of plywood blocking his exit. 97% COMPLETE. The running footsteps were coming closer, and Virgil traced the outline of the board with his fingers. 98% COMPLETE. He attempted to pry the plank from the wall, but couldn’t find an opening. 99% COMPLETE. He felt another bullet scrape by him, and it went straight through the plywood, which meant it was thin enough to be broken through.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, and body slammed through the opening, bursting through in a hurricane of splinters.

“Download complete.” An automated voice sounded from his wristband. Well thank god it’s complete, lest I die falling with an incomplete download.

Virgil fired a grappling hook, and pulled himself up onto the roof, surveying the city below him. The lights were beautiful at this time of night, and the lit windows framed by dark buildings looked like the stars.

But he couldn’t stand there for long, for the night wasn’t over yet.

Roman hadn't had an extremely clear vision of how his night would go, but this was definitely not it.

"There are only eight planets! Pluto is essentially a glorified moon!" He practically yelled. He had progressively grown closer to the other man, and they were now a mear couple of feet from each other.

“Falsehood! There’s a current debate discussing the redefinition of ‘planet’, which would make your every argument null and void, and Pluto securely in planetary status.” Logan crossed his arms, nudging his glasses further up his nose. “In other words, Viva la Pluto, and fuck you.” He raised an eyebrow smugly, and Roman opened his mouth to retort.

“Hey, guys,” Virgil stumbled through the entrance to the dorm, clutching his left side. “I hope I’m not too late for some spicy space symposium.” He smirked, but winced in pain.

“Yeah, you’re not participating in anything right now.” Roman walked over and clutched Virgil’s shoulders, lowering him to the bed. “I think you just need some rest,” He motioned for Logan to dim the lights, and he reached over and turned on Virgil’s desk lamp. “And we’ll have you all set by morning to talk about Pluto.”

“M’kay,” Virgil murmured, allowing Roman to shrug off his sweater, and Roman winced at the open gash in his shoulder. He didn’t know what was going on, but this was at least the fourth time Virgil had come home banged up like this, and it was starting to seriously concern his roommate. “‘M gonna sleep now.”

“Okay.” Roman took a last look at Virgil’s already sleeping form and went to go grab his medical supplies. His nursing-theater double major had few perks, but being able to patch up his friends at any time was something that he cherished. Especially after Virgil had said “no hospitals”.

Roman returned from his desk to see Logan hunched over his friend, worry painting his features. As much as the other man tried to uphold his apathetic facade, Roman had seen several cracks throughout the years, several being caused by Virgil.

“Logan, can you stroke his hair to keep him calm while I look at this cut? It may be deep and need stitches.” Logan nodded, and Roman took a look and the cut. It definitely needed stitches, which meant that Roman would have to make a quick run to the nursing lab. “Ok, Xavier, you keep him here. If he wakes up, give him water, half a protein bar, and then back to sleep. Find his phone in whatever pocket it’s in, and confiscate it. He needs to rest.” He grabbed his jacket, and broke off into a sprint to get more supplies.

Several hours and seven stitches later, Roman fell back onto his bed. Logan had left only a few minutes ago, but now Roman was alone, trying to shut down his mind. But truly, how could he when his crus–roommate was lying there with a gash in his shoulder and bruises lining his body. When the boy who put on makeup every morning to cover the bags under his eyes had come home beaten and battered once a week for the past three months, but this time was the only time that he’d let Roman take care of him.

Though Logan had assured Roman that Virgil wasn’t in an abusive relationship, he couldn’t help but jump to that conclusion. He couldn’t help but remember his mom’s screams in the middle of the night. Images of dents in plaster and bloodied tissues clogged his mind, and he felt himself grabbing a piece of blanket and balling it in his fist.

It would be fine. They, being Logan, Roman, and Patton, would ask Virgil what was going on tomorrow morning. Tonight, though, Roman just really needed to get some sleep.

“What the fu–” Virgil awoke with a start as someone shook his shoulder. He sat up and immediately regretted it, groaning as pain shot up his side and into his shoulder.

“Hey, kiddo, glad to see you’re awake.” Virgil turned to see his three closest friends standing over him. Patton gave him a small smile, but there was visible concern overtaking all three of them. Judging by the bandages on his shoulder, and the fact that he was wearing a clean hoodie, they were going to ask him what happened last night.

“Virgil, you know that we only want to best for you, right?” Logan asked.

“What is this, an intervention?” Virgil murmured. What the hell was he going to tell them? That he could control shadows and drain people’s life energy by being in physical contact with them for too long? Yeah, that really wasn’t going to work.

“No, but we do need to know why the hell I needed to put seven stitches in you last night.” Virgil looked up to see Roman leaning against the wall, and he seemed almost...hurt? Jesus, the last thing Virgil wanted to do was hurt the man he was in love wi–his roommate. This was no time for intrusive gay thoughts.

“I–I fell?” He tried to keep his his tone level, but it ended up coming out as more of a question. In response, Roman slammed his fist against the wall.

“Onto a fucking knife?” He exclaimed, and the hurt in his voice turned to anger. Patton placed a soft hand onto his arm, but Roman shook it off as he stepped forward. “You came stumbling back here, an hour late for your and Logan’s post-date. You were delirious from pain, and I had to go to the fucking storage in the lab to get shit to stitch you up, and we’re extremely lucky Terrence was there last night. I’ve seen the missing medical supplies in my kit for months, Virgil, so for the last time, WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?” He raised his voice to a yell at the end, causing Virgil to wince back.

“Roman!” Patton turned on his Dad Voice, and sternly turned on the other man. “I understand that you are upset, but you have no right to jump on Virgil like this!”

“Look, it’s my fault.” Virgil murmured, and felt the pit in his stomach from lying grow a bit more. “I didn’t want to tell you guys this, but after dates I’ve been walking through...some of the less accepting neighborhoods. Looking for fights, or to get beat up.” It felt awful to lie to them, but truly, what choice did he have? “I guess it’s a form of self sabotage, or something.”

“Jesus, Virge.” Roman stepped closer, this time to plop down next to him on the bed and place a comforting hand on his thigh. Which sent more tingles through Virgil than he would willingly admit. “I’m so sorry. Please, in the future, call me, I’ll pick you up from wherever, whenever.”

“It’s my fault. I’ll try not to do it as much,” Or rather, he would hide it better.

“Or at all.” Patton lovingly rubbed his back, leaning into his side. And Virgil felt like literal human garbage.

Roman had always loved the snow. But that was before he had to fight some guy who wore all dark and conjured shadows in it.

He hurled another branch at the guy, dubbed by the papers “Anxiety”, catching him in the side. He didn’t want to hurt the guy, but on the other hand, he...really wanted to hurt this guy. Or at least do equivalent damage to what had been done to his pride.

Before this, Roman had been a freelance hero, or at least your friendly neighborhood super-strengthened and bulletproof man. He was able to rescue kids from doing dumb shit, stop a couple of drug deals from going down, that kind of thing. But that was before some dumb asshole in an annoying cool jacket starting fucking with him.

At the start, it was just interfering with his anti-drug operations. But then it became active antagonization, ruining everything Roman tried to help. And when the person didn’t fight with bullets, only really bad lighting, it became an issue.

“You didn’t have to kill the people in this ring!” Roman shouted as he circled around his emo enemy. “You could have just given them to the actual justice system!”

“If you knew anything about me,” A shadow swept towards Roman, curling around his neck and slightly infiltrating his mask. “You’d know,” he motioned a hand upwards, and Roman found himself having trouble breathing, “I couldn’t do that.” Roman tried to run after him, but in a rush of darkness, Anxiety ran off through the night.

“Virgil, dear, it’s been a while since you’ve been down here. What’s the occasion?” Deceit didn’t even bother to look up from his table, writing down some formula or another.

“I need to see Elliott about the new tech and get patched up. I would go to their place, but they said they’re here?” After coming out as non-binary, the hyper-intelligent and slightly emo kid had found themself homeless, and went through the same Deceit process Virgil did. Except after much negotiation, they were paid, and so they lived in a small studio apartment in the part of town where no one asked questions, only using Deceit’s lab when absolutely necessary.

“And here I thought you’d come to see your dear old ferocious father figure.” Deceit drawled, turning around and gesturing towards the staircase at the far end of the room. “He’s downstairs, and make sure you’re good as new before coming up.”

Virgil backed towards the stairs, having known Deceit long enough to not leave his back unwatched. He finally turned to walk down the stairs, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds, and hearing a soft laugh emit from the other man.

“Hey, Ell, what’s going on?” Elliott was positioned at a microscope, and something was heating up on the bunsen burner next to it. They held up one finger, and wagged it towards a bench, motioning for him to sit. Virgil shouldered off his jacket, wincing as he touched bruised skin. Pulling up his shirt, he did a preliminary assessment, but there were just scrapes and bruises. He also needed a little energy boost, because the guy was seemingly impermeable, making Virgil’s job a bit harder.

“Ok. I’m done here. What’s it this time?” Elliott stripped off his gloves, grabbing his rather eccentric med kit off a shelf.

“Asshole threw a tree at me.” Virgil grumbled as they took a closer look. “Just slather it with your magic ointment shit and let me go.”

“No, dickhead, there’s to big of a surface area, and it’s too close to your intestines because you have a zero percent body fat.” Elliott grabbed a tube, and started applying small amounts to the already scabbing area. “This might sting a bit, start talking to distract you from it.”

“How’s...Mitchell doing?” Virgil emphasized the syllables of Elliott’s boyfriend with a particular hatred. “Any new assholic behaviors I should know about?” They rolled their eyes, starting to strap a bandage onto Virgil’s side.

“He’s fine, and we’re fine. I started seeing this new therapist, too.” They finished the bandage, and whatever that cream was really started to sting.

“Oh?”

“Yeah, Dr. Picani.” Elliott nodded, smiling, they seemed to actually like this one. Unlike the last guy, who was, to say the least, a transphobic asshole. Virgil didn’t like to waste innocent lives, but there was a special place on his knife for those who hurt the one he considered a little sibling. “His methods are...unorthodox, but I think it’s going to work well.”

“And how does your boyfriend feel about you seeing him?” Virgil asked, eyebrows pinched in concern. Elliott shrunk back, though slightly, and grabbed another product to help with the bruises.

“It doesn’t matter.” That place on his knife? Mitchell was starting to qualify. “Speaking of love lives, though, how’s it with you-know-who?” They raised an eyebrow, slightly wiggling their shoulders.

“Fuck you,” Virgil lightly punched them in the shoulder, but couldn’t help the blushing grin from his face. “He’s extra, beautiful, strong as hell, and the other day he was singing to himself while he got ready. His voice is just incredible, I can’t believe that I live with an angel.” He stopped himself, meeting Elliott’s eyes and their knowing look. “And also, incredibly out of my league.”

“You’re wrong, but that’s something for another time.” Elliott stepped back, allowing Virgil’s shirt to fall over his injuries. “Those should only take a few hours to heal up, bounce coffee shops until the bandage adhesive starts to crust and loosen. Then you should be good to go home, but make sure to use the lotion I gave you every day to keep your skin okay. I just have one more thing, but I think we should talk as we walk, I need to get home.” They glanced over to the corner where they and Virgil had discovered the bug placed by Deceit. It wasn’t always running, but they had no way of knowing when it was.

“Okay,” Virgil grabbed his bag, trading his long coat for a hoodie, “Let’s go, then.”

They sat at a bus stop, waiting for a bus to pull up for Elliott. The wind blew Virgil’s purple streaked hair over to the other side, causing his companion to smirk. He watched as they fiddled with the hem of their skirt, obviously nervous for whatever they had to tell Virgil.

“I had a breakthrough.” Elliott jerked their head up to meet Virgil’s eyes, and stammered on despite his incredulous gaze. “On the fear toxin-esque chemical? Y’know the one he’s been forcing me to make?”

“Shit.” Was the most eloquent thing Virgil could muster.

“I haven’t tested it on humans, but the chemicals should act, when inhaled, as an extreme anxiety amplifier.” They looked so small, and so scared. Elliot had once said that their brain would be the death of them one day, and by their current state, Virgil couldn’t be sure it wouldn’t be. “Virgil, this thing that I’ve created, it could cause panic attacks that paralyze people. I–I don’t want him to have it.” At the last part their voice dropped to a whisper, and tears started to track down their face. Elliott sniffed and rubbed their cheeks, not looking up to meet Virgil’s eyes. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Hey, hey,” Virgil crouched in front of them. “Breathe. I’ll figure something out, I promise. Just keep breathing.” They took a shuddering breath, matching Virgil’s strokes on their hand. “It’s okay. Just go home, hug your sister, and take a shower. It’ll be okay.” And as much as he wanted to believe that, Virgil didn’t know if he could.

Roman burst the door to his dorm open, expecting the apartment to as empty as he left it. Instead, he was confronted with his purple haired roommate. Shirtless. From the back, he was all lean muscle and sticking out shoulder blades, the curve of his hips falling into his perfectly shaped–

“Roman?” Virgil turned, pausing the toweling of his hair. Roman ripped his eyes up to Virgil’s (only after a glance at his abs, Roman could appreciate art), and nervously scratched his neck. “I wasn’t expecting you to come home this late.”

“Ditto, dude.” Look anywhere but him, you gay motherfucker, anywhere but him. “You’ve been like a ghost the past couple weeks.” It was true, they’d barely seen each other except for studying and occasional ramen breaks since Thanksgiving.

“Yeah, that’s my bad, I’ve been working on a film project that’s mostly being shot at night.” Virgil explained, pulling on a hoodie. Roman walked over to his bed, dropping down and kicking off his shoes. “What’s your excuse, Mr. Double Major?”

“Well, my fucking double major,” Roman laid back onto his pillow, relaxing a bit for the first time that day. “But also, trying to think of a Secret Santa gift for Logan?”

“Oh, that’s a toughie. I got Patton, and I have no ideas, ugh.” Virgil sighed into his hands, plopping cross legged onto his bed. He stuck out a lip, blowing the bangs out of his faces, which was far more endearing than Roman would ever admit.

“But then of course there’s finals,” Roman pulled out his laptop, opening the study spreadsheet that Logan had helped him make. When they had been roommates Roman’s freshman year, the tension and hatred between the two would take a knife to cut. But over time, new friends, growth, and two “frienterventions” (the name was Patton’s idea), they had overcome their differences.

“Oh god, don’t remind me,” Virgil stretched up, his hoodie riding up above his hips, and Roman found himself staring. Not at his body, but rather the faded purple bruises that adorned his hips. Virgil’s eyes narrowed in confusion, but after following Roman’s eyes, he dropped his arms, pulling his sweatshirt over his hips.

“Virgil–” Roman started to reach out, only to be cut off by the other man.

“I need to go shower.” He all but sprinted out of the dorm room, leaving Roman to fall back onto his bed, a million thoughts racing through his mind. And not a single one was good.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. He saw the bruises, even though Virgil had been so careful. He’d been so careful for two months not to come home if he was too beaten up, he’d been so careful to slather on Elliot’s cream whenever he could. He’d been so fucking careful, and yet Roman had still seen the marks.

He threw his towel over a hook, stripping down and turning the shower up as hot as it could go. It burned his skin, but he deserved it, deserved to have all his flesh stripped from his body for hurting him. Deserved to feel the ache on his sides turn to a roaring fire as he pressed inwards, curling into himself. Deserved to feel the hard force of metal on his back as he slammed into the wall of the shower stall, doing his best to breathe as the tears fell, but the oxygen was catching in his throat, and he couldn’t force it down. He stood there for a few minutes, and felt shadows start to envelope him, holding, comforting.

Slowly, he turned the water down, his energy drained from the tight spiral of shadows that still curled around his body.

“Virgil?” Logan’s voice filtered through the steam. Virgil heard the “shink” of the outer shower curtain opening and a muffled “What the hell?”

He turned, trying to collect his racing thoughts. “Logan, what the fuck are you doing?” Virgil thickened this shadows around his body, and he felt the energy leave his body. Logan pushed through the last curtain, a look of pure shock coming over his features. “This isn’t gay fanfiction, you can’t just waltz in here.”

“Well, at least explain all of this.” Logan asked, waving his hand through the lingering shadows. “Is it–is it some sort of concentrated element? It’s fascinating.”

“What? Okay, no, that isn’t–they’re shadows, Logan.” Virgil clenched and unclenched his fist. “Will you please let me put on some damn clothes?”

“Fine. But you are going to explain everything to me as soon as you’re done.” Logan crossed his arms, and Virgil wrapped a towel around himself, the shadows finally dissipating as he exhaled. “Seriously, though, how does it work? Do you conjure them, what the range on it–”

“LOGAN!” Virgil yelled, more forcefully than he intended. “I just had a fucking panic attack because Roman saw the bruises and found out I’ve been lying to him for months. Also, yes, I can manipulate shadows, it’s a sort of dark mattered energy that I’m not exactly certain how works.” Logan just stared at him, eyes wide in front of Virgil’s outburst. “It’s the reason that I kept running away from the homes, until I was fourteen and a fucking criminal mastermind or whatever you want to call him picked me up off the goddamn street.” He could feel the words slurring as he worked himself up, but he needed to tell someone, even if it was just shouting it at his best friend. “You know that guy, the one the news has dubbed ‘Anxiety’? That’s fucking me. I’ve been doing this shit for nine. Fucking. Years. And I’m trapped, and the only thing I can do is keep working for him, keep killing and stealing and breaking for him. I have to keep doing this because if I don’t, he’ll torture and kill everyone I love, and make me watch. I’m so scared, Logan. I’m so fucking scared that I can’t breathe sometimes.” His voice cracked on the last words, and a sob finally escaped his body. Logan reached out, but all Virgil could do was push him away, throw on his clothes, and escape into the starless night.

“Hello?” Phone calls from unknown numbers were something most people were accustomed to, but Elliott didn’t get four in a row from the same number at 1:37 in the morning most nights. Well, five, counting this one.

“Hello. I am attempting to reach Elliott?” They weren’t sure what was going on, but the person on the other side sounded panicked, so they sat up and closed their laptop.

“Yeah, that’s me. What do you need?” Elliot replied, and a heavy exhale came through the phone speakers.

“I’m Logan Xavier, and I’m trying to find Virgil Sanders.” As soon as they heard the words, something clicked inside Elliott. Virgil’s best friend Logan, who appeared to have been affected by the same injections that Elliott and Virgil had, and that his powers were interfacing with technology. How Logan didn’t know about their mutual friend’s shadows, and how Elliott was saved in a private section of Virgil’s computer and phone that could only be accessed if you knew where to look. Or, they guessed, if your brain could automatically hack any system you touched.

“He told you?”

“Yes.” Logan paused, and the weight of his words settled on Elliott’s shoulders. “And now he’s gone. I’ve looked everywhere, and you’re the only one in his contacts I don’t recognize.”

“Yeah,” Elliot threw on a pair of jeans and ran a hand through their hair. “Give me two hours, I can find him.” Logan let out a relieved sigh as Elliott pulled their jacket off its hook. “Oh, and Logan?”

“Yeah?”

“Just let me talk to him, okay? I know where to look, and I know what to do.” They could practically feel the older man opening his mouth to interject. “As good as you are for Virgil in a lot of situations, this isn’t one of them.”

“I understand. Thank you, Elliott. Goodbye.” The line went dead, and Elliott opened their door, stepping out into the city at night.

“You know, sitting on the roof of an abandoned building at 2:30 in the morning kind of marks you as emo.” Virgil looked up from his stare at the tops of surrounding buildings to see Elliott climbing up the last rungs of the access ladder.

“And you joining me kind of marks you as one too.” He responded, smirking through his chapped lips and smudged makeup. “How did you know to look for me?”

“Logan called.” Virgil felt the smirk fall off his face as he turned back to the streets below him. “And we don’t have to talk about him.” He heard footsteps come closer as they neared the ledge he was perched on. “Just scooch over.”

“Well, how did you know where to find me?” Virgil couldn’t help but lean into his friend as he stared at the cars passing by.

“There’s trackers embedded in all your coats, and this was the third abandoned rooftop I checked.” Elliott chuckled under their breath. “Pigeons are much less impressed with my witty one-liners.”

“I have to keep them somewhere, and there’s a lot of abandoned rooftops in this city.” Virgil said in half-hearted protest. The coats were good, they had everything he’d ever needed on a job. And the fabric was warm and comforting, an he didn’t have the energy for any more shadows to blanket himself with.

Elliott leaned back, raising both hands in mock submission. “I wasn’t judging, just observing.”

“Well, they are made by a master of all seam work.” Virgil laughed, a real smile finally adorning his face.

“You flatter me, V.” They joined in his laughter, and Virgil cracked a few more jokes, letting the conversation flow into the night, the sounds of the city drowned out by the sounds of their happiness.

By 3:26, Roman had completely given up on sleep.

After Logan had left around 1:15 with Virgil’s contacts on his phone, Roman knew the night would be long. He’d poured a cup of tea, and cracked opened his textbook, attempt to read about possible respiratory issues in postanesthesia care unit.

By 1:43, Roman had completely given up on studying.

He opened his laptop, a fresh face mask applied to his skin. It was going to be a long night, so he figured that a little bit of Riverdale couldn’t hurt. As it turns out, after watching an episode and a half in his bed, Roman didn’t really care about who was a Southside Serpent and who kissed who. So, naturally, he decided to go to sleep.

That had clearly not panned out.

So that’s how he’d ended up at here, at 3:26, scrolling through his music library to find something to soothe his ever-heightening nerves. He clicked on a random Spotify mix, and opening guitar chords filtered from his speakers, Rihanna’s voice resounding through his speakers.

I think I’ve had enough.

I might get a little drunk.

Roman smiled, and for some reason the song reminded him of others. He started queuing up what he needed, slowly beginning to sing along to the woman he hailed as a queen.

Cause all of my kindness,

Is taken taken for weakness.

He laid back onto his bed, closing his eyes and losing himself for a moment. For a moment, every thought of Virgil, every thought of the purple clad villain almost constantly plaguing his thoughts, every thought about his classes and his upcoming show, they all dissipated. For a moment, he was lost in the beats and instrumentals and melodies. For a moment, he was lost and he wasn’t sure he wanted to be found.

But that moment was shattered as a very tired looking, beaten up Virgil stumbled through the door. He looked up with surprised as he saw Roman was still awake, and fumbled to pull off his headphones.

Roman stood up, his instinct telling him go to him, comfort him, before the events of earlier came crashing down onto his shoulders. He pulled back, giving Virgil some space, and ran a nervous hand through his hair.

“Virgil, I’m sorry about earlier. I overstepped my bounds, it was really uncool of me. I just want to apolo–”

“Roman, stop,” Virgil cut him off, his voice firm and low. Roman looked up at him, and watched a tense, forced smile plaster itself on his friend’s face. “Please. Can we just, can we just talk about this sometime else? I can’t–I can’t really talk about it right now.” He moved to sit on his bed, shedding his long coat and headphones. “Oh, is this that album you wanted me to listen to?”

Roman had completely forgotten the music that was still playing, and he tuned in to hear the first chorus of a song he’d been begging Virgil to listen to for months. Deciding to let the subject change, he switched his queue to the rest of the album, leaning back on his bed once more.

He wanted to say something, to comfort Virgil, but every time he opened his mouth the words died in his throat. There was nothing he could say, nothing he could do. There were his powers, of course, but how could he use them to protect Virgil when he didn’t know who was hurting him? If he asked, he could end up in a state like tonight, or worse. There was just no right thing to say or do, and Roman turned the thought over and over in his mind until a restless sleep finally claimed him.

#vic fic #prinxiety #prinxiety fanfic #fanfic #ts #thomas sanders #sanders sides #fanfiction

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beesandwasps · 6 years ago

Text

If The Democratic Party Were A Computer Company

Customer: I want to buy a new computer.

Salesman: Great, we make the best computers on the market. We promise our computers will do everything you need… why are you looking at me like that?

Customer: I bought my last computer here, back in 2008. I had a bunch of specific stuff I wanted to do, and it said right on the box that it would do it all.

Salesman: Hmmm. What did you want to do?

Customer: Well, I wanted to get my finances in order, fix my mortgage, solve some problems I’ve been having with my bank — I think they’re ripping me off — fix up my house for better energy efficiency, and also the computer I had before that had some real problems, it was infested with spyware and it kept installing stuff I didn’t want, so I definitely wanted to get away from that. It’s why I didn’t go back to the other company, in fact.

Salesman: I don’t see the problem. I remember that model, the ads said it would do all that.

Customer: It didn’t. It didn’t do any of that. It wouldn’t let me change anything about my finances, it actually gave my bank permission to keep going with my old mortgage, spent a lot of time loading websites for green products but wouldn’t actually buy them — and it actually came with all the same spyware and the same two FPS games I didn’t want before, and then installed five more! And it wouldn’t even let me try to work on anything I bought it for until it finished downloading and installing an antivirus program, which it kept resetting, and by the time it finished doing that it was out of warrantee and I couldn’t get it fixed! The feature list was just a bunch of lies!

Salesman: Well, yes, we’ve found in the past that if we don’t tell those lies, people won’t buy our computers.

Customer: Why don’t you just make computers that work? I remember, 30 years ago, you guys sold computers that did stuff!

Salesman: All the people who wanted to make computers that “do stuff”, as you call it, got squeezed out by the new management, back around 1990. Sales are much better now.

Customer: Why?! Why are you even in business if you aren’t making products that work? You used to dominate the market, now you’re barely hanging on, how can your sales be “better”?

Salesman: Our competitors’ products never worked, and they’re highly profitable.

Customer: So? I’m here because I don’t want to buy your competitor’s products. If I wanted to buy a computer that didn’t work, I’d go to them.

Salesman: You see, by making products which don’t do what our customers want, we think we can get our competitor’s customers to switch brands. They’re very loyal, so it’s hard.

Customer: Huh? Wouldn’t it be easier to make a living selling products your own customers want?

Salesman (Amused): Oh, no, not at all. Every so often, a shareholder from our competitors comes in and buys a lot of computers. A huge order, more than you’ll ever buy. And they won’t keep doing that if we make computers that do what you want to do. It’s so profitable to not make our products do what you want, that we don’t really need to sell you anything at all! But since our competitor’s machines are hardware-incompatible, old customers like you are stuck with us, and so obviously we must be selling more machines than ever, even if our inventory numbers say otherwise.

Customer: So… you’re basically owned by your competition? And losing sales?

Salesman (Scandalized): Of course not! We are a totally different company, making superior products which are better than the competition in every way—

Customer: —but they don’t work.

Salesman: Right, and we have never taken money from our competitors. Just from individuals who happen to be shareholders in the competition. It is completely different. And just because our sales are down doesn’t mean that our new products don’t outsell the old ones which were market leaders for decades.

Customer: Well, what’s the functional difference between your machines and your competitor’s? Neither brand does what I want!

Salesman: Take the latest models. Our competition’s latest offering is in an ugly, squat, bloated case with an orange paint job, and it vents hot air all over. Our new model is an elegant revisiting of the designs we had 20 years ago, much cleaner lines, with all the functionality of the computer you bought 8 years ago.

Customer: So… it… won’t work?

Salesman: Look at the ad! It does home finance, it can fix your mortgage, it connects to your bank, and it has an energy efficiency package!

Customer: What’s this asterisk on the ad? …This footnote says “disclaimer: the functions listed above are not actually possible with this model”. Don’t you have anything else?

Salesman: Well, we could sell you that one over there. It’s an updated version of the ones we used to sell 30 years ago.

Customer: So it actually works? I’ll take it!

Salesman: No, no, I’m afraid we aren’t going to sell that one. It tested poorly in focus groups.

Customer: It works, and your other one doesn’t, but it somehow tested worse in focus groups?

Salesman: Well, to be honest, the focus groups consisted of employees from the design and sales teams for the 2008 model.

Customer: Which doesn’t do what I want.

Salesman: Right. We really want to break into new markets, so it’s very important to have an appealing product.

Customer: And you somehow concluded that a computer which does not work was a more appealing product, and deliberately composed an ad full of lies to sell it?

Salesman: You keep harping on those ads! Jesus, you’d think that feature sets were important. It’s terribly naive of you to think that a company, in this day and age, would actually have an honest feature set in its advertising material. You’re just a whiny nerd, don’t you have any brand loyalty? You should buy whatever we sell, and like it.

Customer: Wow, that’s… an astonishingly off-putting attitude. Why would I stick with your products if you’re going to be like that?

Salesman: You have to! If we don’t sell enough computers, our competitors will achieve market dominance and everyone will have to buy computers from them! Think of how terrible it would be — nobody will have a computer which works!

Customer: But you just admitted that your computers don’t work, either!

Salesman: Yes, but if we become too irrelevant to the market, those big sales to our competitor’s shareholders will end, and that will be terrible for everybody.

Customer: Why, what would the difference be? Never mind. Uh… well, maybe I’ll… buy your new product then? Perhaps I can make it do the things I need. At least it should be less difficult than if I switch platforms, right?

Salesman: Right! Right! Oh, and this model comes with this handsome set of luggage.

Customer: What? Why?

Salesman: Remember how I said this was a redesign of our products from 20 years ago? Well, the industrial design department back then made luggage, too.

Customer: I don’t want the luggage. I don’t need the luggage. It’s ugly, the design is outdated, I don’t have storage space to put it in… can’t you just throw it out for me or something?

Salesman: Nope. The computer is actually attached to the luggage. You can’t get one without the other.

Customer: Ugh. Okay, fine. My old computer has to go, I’ll take it and hope for the best… but still, that’s a lot of ugly baggage.

Salesman: Right, we hear that a lot. But you see, some of it was created by our competitor, which is why it’s so ugly.

Customer: Some of it? Why is it all ugly, then?

Salesman: Stop asking questions! You are not permitted to talk about the luggage, because some of it came from our competitor!

Customer: Jesus, this is insane. Just… let me get this over with, okay?

Salesman: Sure! Now, since you’ve agreed to take this model instead of the other one—

Customer: Wait, I thought you said the other one wasn’t available! I wanted the other one! It might actually work, and it won’t come with all this baggage!

Salesman: No can do, sorry, since you said you wanted this one, I have removed the other one from inventory. Anyway, now that you’ve chosen this model, I can give you the feature list.

Customer: Wait, I thought the feature list was in that ad!

Salesman: Oh, no, that was the feature list to get you to choose that model instead of the other one. Now that you’re committed, we aren’t going to promise anything like that level of performance. Specifically, you get a lower minimum RAM, no built-in storage, we preinstall spyware and a bunch of FPS games, and you will be signed up for our extended customer service plan for $99 a month.

Customer: Holy cheese, this is awful. Maybe I should just build a compatible machine from parts. Your software is supposed to be compatible with that.

Salesman: (Suddenly screaming) Traitor! You’re a filthy traitor who is buying from our competition! You’re going to bankrupt us and give them all the sales!

Customer: (Backing away) Whoa, calm the fuck down, I’m not going to buy from your competitor, I hate them. I want a machine that actually works, like your machines used to work, but you refuse to sell me one.

Salesman: (Still screaming) You’re an industrial spy! Anybody who doesn’t buy our computers is buying from the competition! You’re a filthy liar!

Customer: [Flees store]

Salesman: Please come visit us again next time you need a computer, and buy from us!

[A few years pass…]

Customer: Okay, back again. After you ran me out of the shop, my grandfather insisted on buying from the competition after all, and god that machine sucks.

Salesman: Well, I’m glad you’ve admitted your error in not buying from us. You’ll be glad to hear that we have an updated model. It’s just like the one we were selling last time, comes with some of the same luggage, but it’s based on the operating system we were running 30 years ago.

Customer: Is that a good thing?

Salesman: To be honest, most of the versions of that OS actively try to sabotage anybody who does the stuff you say you want to do, but hey, at least it’s not that orange box our competitors make, right?

Customer: I really can’t believe you’re still trying to sell computers that don’t work.

Salesman: Well, okay, we also have some experimental lines we started making two years ago. Some of them do the things you’re interested in, to a greater or lesser extent. And we are still making that other model that works as well as our computers did decades ago. But I really don’t want to sell you any of those. The one that comes with the baggage does the best in our focus groups.

Customer: Are these the focus groups consisting of your own employees again?

Salesman: Of course! In our tests, we found that that 30-year-old OS was the best-known of all our current products, which obviously means it’s going to sell like hotcakes. We also made sure that any recent hires were excluded from the focus groups, because we found that they showed an insufficient amount of excitement about that model.

Customer: Can I see the feature list? Do you have any benchmarks?

Salesman: Why do you always want to know how our computers perform in practice! Brand loyalty should be all you need! Shut up and buy what I want you to buy, so I can get back to collecting checks from the rich people who want us to go out of business!

#democrats #satire #hillary clinton #joe biden #bernie sanders #trump

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