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keepmeinthedark · 3 years

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To The Top || A Marauders Band AU

Chapter Two: You Gotta Not

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So Lily Evans brought a big asset to the band?

Only if you consider Remus Lupin to be a big asset, which I do.

Did Lily introduce them?

In time.

What happened in the meantime?

Before Remus joined the band there was just James, Sirius, and Frank. They lived together in this house called Maxwells house. It belonged to these twins Fabian and Gideon and they opened it up to anyone who needed a home.

And what was Remus doing? What were you doing?

I was in Germany at the time, Remus was at university. But he had been friends with Lily since they were young and even though he was staying in a student accommodation he wasn't too far away for their friendship to change in any way.

Lily and Remus had spent New Year's Eve together. One of Remus' classmates held a party which they attended and stayed until the clock struck midnight. By the time they had made it back to his accommodation, it was three in the morning. They had both slept in Remus' bed without bothering to change their clothes or even take their make-up off, which then lead to one of the worst mornings in both of their lives.

It was eight in the morning when Remus's phone went off. He groaned when he saw his twin brother's name appear on the screen and held the phone to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Re, where are you?"

"What do you mean?" he paused. "Am I supposed to be somewhere?"

He could practically feel Rom rolling his eyes. "You and Lily both promised Mum that you'd help with the fate. Remember? The fate? The one that Mum has been stressing over for weeks?"

Shit.

"Ohhh yeah, yeah I completely remember god who do you take me for? Yeah me and Lils are on our way now, well be like five minutes tops I promise." and with that, he quickly hung up.

Shit Shit Shit Shit.

"Lily come on, we have to go," Remus said quickly as he shook his best friend awake.

Lily only groaned as she lifted her head off the pillow, she watched Remus rush around the room to grab the makeup wipes and cleaned off the smudged eyeliner he still had on.

Lily didn't wait for an explanation, she just got out of the bed and found her way towards the nearest hairbrush. It wasn't until they were waiting for the bus that Lily had asked where they were going.

"My mum's thing, remember? We said we would help."

Lily didn't look like she remembered but she nodded anyway.

"How long do you think we'll be?"

Remus shrugged, "No idea. Why? Got somewhere to be?"

Lily rolled her eyes, "Got a hangover to cure is more like it."

They had gotten to the fate twenty minutes later and immediately regretted not faking a sickness to get out of it.

Hope Lupin was a powerhouse and an amazing mum, she was loving and caring, and gentle. But she was a single mum who had raised three boys and was in the middle of raising another, which made her incredibly scary when she was stressed.

"There you two are!" she exclaimed when she saw Remus and Lily making their way down the field where the fate was being held. "I was about to send Petunia off after you guys, honestly why are you so late?"

Remus panicked, "Headache," he said.

Hope placed her hands to her hips and raised an eyebrow, "Is headache code for a hangover?"

They both nodded.

Hope sighed, "There's coke, bananas, and water in that tent over there. Go and tip half of the water out of a bottle, fill the rest with coke, drink that, and eat a banana. I don't have time for this." she told them, quickly adding, "Its a hangover remedy," after seeing their confused faces.

"Where was this remedy all the other times we've been hungover?" Lily asked, acting offended.

Hope shrugged, "You never asked."

"Still could've been useful."

"How am I supposed to know that you're hungover if you never tell me!?" Hope exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air and turning her back on them in order to do other things.

"You're Mum!" Remus yelled back. "You know everything!"

"Two minutes! Get a move on!" was all that Hope yelled back.

As Hope had promised the flat coke and bananas had helped their hangovers but unfortunately didn't make them any more prepared for the long day ahead of them. Remus' parents had divorced three years ago when Lyall had admitted that he had fallen for someone else. Remus doubts that his parents have ever been in love. They had his older brother, Lycus when they were in their twenties and before they were married. They did get married not long after he was born and three years after that they had Romulus and Remus, the twins also weren't planned. Neither was Macca, Remus' younger brother who was only 2 years old at the time of the divorce.

His father's new girlfriend didn't last very long and got intimidated by the fact that he had four sons. Romulus has always said that he was certain that there was no girl, to begin with, they had never met her and their dad wasn't exactly someone who had luck when it came to romance. Romulus swears that he made her up to use as an excuse to get a divorce. Lycus believes him. Remus doesn't.

Hope and Lyall still remained close friends and the boys are allowed to stay with either one of them as much as they like, but they spend the majority of their time with Hope, or at least Lycus, Romulus, and Remus do. Macca, who is now five, spends Monday to Thursday with Hope and Friday to Sunday with Lyall in hopes that he will grow up to have a close relationship with both parents.

Remus had nothing against his father, he was a good dad and never failed to make Remus feel loved. But he wasn't yet out to his dad yet and wasn't sure if it would go well if he did come out to him. He likes to think that his dad would try to be supportive but still doesn't want anything to change between them. Not only that but he preferred his mum's cooking.

Lyall worked as a teacher for a primary school near where he lived and Hope owned her own florist in town but would always pop into the other shops there to see if they needed any help when she had the time, which is what led to her helping out with the local coffee shops fate in order to help raise money for cancer research. This wasn't the first time Hope had dragged her children out of their usual routines to stand in a field in the middle of winter and most certainly won't be the last. But they always came, Remus would never admit it but he quite enjoyed these things. Hope had always wanted to help with certain school and church events and Remus was proud to have a mum who was so loved in the community, even if she was scary when she got into her boss mode.

By the time Remus had finished their drinks and properly woke up, there was already a crowd of people going around each stall, Remus had seen Romulus surrounded by little kids. He called them over when he saw them.

"Remus! Lily! You two are captains get over here!"

"Oh bloody hell," Remus said under his breath, noticing the football that he had in his hands.

Sirius felt like his figures were going to fall off. It was January 1st, who set up an outdoor event on January 1st.

They had only just got there and he already wanted to desperately go home, he didn't dream his parents irrelevant and leave his whole family behind at the age of 22 just to play in the freezing cold, but James had insisted that this would be worth it and he seemed so excited for every gig Sirius could never say no.

It was during their first set that Sirius had seen her.

She had been all that James had talked about since their gig at the pub on Christmas eve, he could recite her description by memory.

Dark red hair that reached her chest.

Emerald green eyes.

Plus size

A smile that glows.

Exactly a head smaller than James.

Two piercings in her ear lobe and one in her cartilage.

A tattoo of a small tattoo of a wolf behind her ear.

And she was wearing white Doc Martens.

Yep, that was her. It had to be, she ticked every box (apart from the tattoo as she was too far away for Sirius to get a proper look. But she looked like a girl that would have one.)

Sirius' heart leaped. James was going to be so excited, all he could talk about throughout Christmas was how much he regretted not asking for her Instagram. He had to tell him.

He was going to tell him.

He had it all planned. He was going to give James that smile that only James got, the one that said "I know something you don't know," James always got so excited at good news.

Then he was going to ask James once more how Lily Evans looked, and James would go on a ramble, giving out as much information about this girl that he could remember. Then he would spin James around and point her out and knowing James he would probably scream. Sirius couldn't wait, he was a hopeless romantic after all.

As they went through each song he couldn't take his eyes off her, he had to make sure that he knew where she was when he told James. And he was going to tell him, he was certain of it.

That is, he was certain of it until he saw him.

Now that's a sight that he will never be able to get out of his head.

Short blond curly hair.

Tall.

Thin, yet still had a bit of muscle.

Crooked nose.

Amber eyes.

And a large scar going across his face, from his right eye down through his nose and ending just before his lips.

God his lips!

As they played on Sirius began to notice more and more about this mystery boy. He seemed to be friendly with Lily, they were playing football with a group of kids and it was obvious that he was pretending to not be good for their sake. There was another boy with them who had similar features. Must be a brother, Sirius thought.

The boy was dressed in a Queen t-shirt, a white one with a long-sleeved black shirt underneath, and his jeans were ripped. He wore eyeliner, his nails were painted black and he had multiple rings on his figures.

Sirius had never been more turned on until he saw him take a five-minute break to smoke a cigarette.

Sirius could never date a smoker. James was enough trouble, Sirius had lost count on how many times he had told him that he ought to quit but he never listens. Smoking kills everyone knows this so why did some people think that by some miracle they could be the exception.

Sirius was about to give it all up then and there, make his eyes go back to following Lily around, or maybe even have his brain focus on what he was actually supposed to be going. But once the boy had put out his cigarette and rejoined the group of kids one of them had fallen over and hurt their knee. The boy crouched down to their level and talked to the boy until he laughed while Lily got a wet paper towel and a plaster.

Damit, Sirius thought. Why do guys with kids always have to be so damn attractive?

For the rest of their set, the only thing Sirius could see was him.

He had forgotten all about Lily Evans until they had finished. When they had gotten off the stage James had been bouncing up and down. His smile was the widest he had ever seen it.

"It's her," he said quickly.

"Whos her?" Frank asked, looking at the crowd confused.

"Her, her. That girl I met a the pub last week. She's here."

"Go talk to her then." And while you're at it get me her mate's number?

James began to pale, "I can't just go up and talk to her," he told them shaking his head. "What if she hates me?"

Frank raised an eyebrow, "Why would she hate you, I thought you hit it off?"

"We did!"

"So go talk to her!"

James looked at Lily and then back at Sirius and Frank. He had now started picking at his figure nails, slowly picking one off and throwing it onto the ground.

"What do I say?" He asked, desperately.

Frank seemed very confident. "Mate, you've just played for the entire day she surly noticed that it was you at one point. She's probably begging for you to go and talk to her."

James looked confused, "Then why hasn't she come up to me?" His eyes suddenly widened. "What if she really isn't interested? I mean I know I didn't ask for her Snapchat or anything but she didn't ask for mine either!" he said in one breath. Sirius was sure he may faint if he thought anymore.

Both James and Sirius looked at Frank who rolled his eyes. "She's the girl. You're supposed to be the one to ask her out and make the first move. Most girls are scared to ask out guys cause guys suck." He said it as if it was the most obvious thing ever. "Just take a deep breath, channel your confidence, and swipe her off her feet. You've got this."

James took a breath and nodded before making his way towards Lily who was having a conversation with a much taller boy. He looked a bit like Sirius' mystery boy but older, taller, and with darker hair and no scar. Maybe another brother.

Sirius and Frank both watched James approached Lily in silence. They watched him ask to talk to her, Sirius didn't miss the smile that appeared across her face. Unfortunately said smile began to slowly disappear once James began talking and before anyone could realize that this was indeed a bad idea, Lily had slapped James across the face and had begun to walk in the other direction.

James all but stomped back towards Sirius and Frank, his glasses had fallen to the tip of his nose and his face had gone nearly bright red, though Sirius couldn't tell if it was from anger or embarrassment.

He mumbled a "Let's go" and grabbed all of his belongings before making his way towards the van. All Sirius and Frank could do was stare at each other in disbelief.

"This is why we don't leave him alone unsupervised," Sirius mumbled.

#the marauders #the marauders fanfiction #wolfstar #jily #dorlene #James Potter #Remus Lupin #Sirius Black #Peter Pettigrew #Lily Evans #marlene mckinnon #dorcas meadowes #mary macdonald #emmeline vance

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papermariosuggestion · 4 years

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Can't believe you created a petition to cancel a game. There's a pandemic going on, people are dying and that's what you focused on?

You’re right, anon, I should’ve started a petition to cancel COVID-19.

All of the effort I’ve put into ensuring that my family, friends, and co-workers are safe, as well as the resources that I’ve put into fighting the virus are for naught because I said something on the Internet that you found petty.

I started that petition as a joke; you can’t “cancel” a game that’s fully developed and available for pre-order. Even if Nintendo pulled the game, someone would still get their hands on it and spread that ROM/ISO like a wildfire, so there’s no “cancelling” it. It’s a nod to this petition from 2016, which was equally futile. Whether a game is in development or fully developed, Nintendo and Intelligent Systems aren’t going to backtrack on business decisions they’ve fully committed to based on some strong words from less than 2000 people.

On Tumblr, you’ll often see people say, “Why are you talking about ____ when you could be talking about ____?” This blog is on one of my multiple Tumblr accounts and I use it to talk exclusively about one of the many, many things in this world that I care about. You see a slice of who I am on this blog because that’s all I show, because this blog isn’t meant to be anything more than a Paper Mario blog. You don’t see the petitions I create and sign using my birthname, or the causes that I donate to, or the people I help on a personal basis.

If you’re so cut off from what’s going on in the world, that you need a parodic suggestion blog on a depreciating social media platform to keep you informed, then you’re doing something deeply, deeply wrong and you need to rethink your life.

But just in case you are that person, here are a few current social/sociopolitical issues that you can do something about:

Fighting COVID-19 — Currently, there’s a virus ravaging most of the world. Donate to help with the research and development of a vaccine. This link takes you to the website of Johns Hopkins, a well-renown a hospital in the U.S.A. I encourage you to find other organizations to donate to as well, and if you’re able, to volunteer in your local community.

Protecting LGBTQIA rights in the U.S.A. — The current administration is trying to legalize forms of discrimination because they’re a bunch of homophobic idiots. Find out more information on the topic and reach out to your representatives to give them a piece of your mind. The fight for LGBTQIA equality didn’t end with marriage equality in the U.S.A; there’s still plenty left to do, and I encourage you to get informed and get involved.

The pursuit of racial equality in the U.S.A. — I refuse to sugarcoat it: Black people, first and foremost, are being targeted and murdered by a system built on a foundation of racism and violence. It’s nothing new and it got old a very, VERY long time ago. We need reform, we need justice, we need reparations. There is no way to un-murder the innocent and the rehabilitatable people who were taken from us because of irrational fear and ignorance, and with that in mind, I say there has to be a way to prevent this in the future. There has to be a way because if there isn’t already one, then we’ll make one. The ongoing fight for equality is a battle, so don’t expect it to be pretty, and don’t shame marginalized people for doing what we have to do to make our voices heard. This link leads to a Google Doc full of links that should help you get involved. I encourage you to search for more information beyond this list, ideally from primary sources including POC.

Combating the Anti-Terrorism Act in the Philippines — As someone living in the U.S.A, I’m not always up to date on events in other countries, but I try to be, and wherever you live, I would encourage you to try as well. This act is moving quickly through legislation and will give unprecedented and unwarranted power to the Philippines government, allowing it to violate the rights of any groups and/or individuals suspected of terrorism. People are protesting, so I would imagine you could help by donating to them. This link leads to an article written by Human Rights Watch, who accepts donations for human rights at large, but if anybody knows of a more direct way to help, please let me know.

#paper mario #papermariosuggestion #the origami king #ask

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thatwritergirlsblog · 5 years

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Testing out popular (FREE) writing hacks

There are a lot of writing hacks floating around, tips that are supposed to increase your writing productivity. Well, I tested them, and here are my thoughts:

1. Use Comic Sans

Let’s be honest. When we were in primary school, we typed EVERYTHING in Comic Sans. However, as we got older and more professional, Comic Sans appeared childish and we stopped using it.

Ask anyone what the most unprofessional font is and they’ll probably answer: Comic Sans MS

However, earlier this year the idea of using Comic Sans when writing your first draft started popping up and now, a lot of writers are swearing by it.

So, did it increase my productivity?

YES

I started writing a scene in Comic Sans and I wrote about five pages in like 30 minutes. The words just flowed. I don’t know why this font increases writing productivity, but if it works, I don’t really care why.

So, I would 100% recommend trying Comic Sans for your first draft. Remember, no one’s going to see it. And it’s pretty easy to change back to something like Times New Roman once you’ve finished a scene.

2. Dictation

I’ve heard a lot of professional authors rave about how much time they save by dictating their first drafts. However, a lot of dictation software and microphones are quite expensive. So, I tried the free alternatives at my disposal.

The latest version of OneNote, which comes included in a lot of Microsoft Office packages, now has a dictation feature. I know this isn’t technically free, but it was for me, since I already have Office installed. The OneNote mobile app is free, but I don’t know it is has this feature. And I just used the built-in microphone on my laptop. Google Docs also has a dictation feature, I think, but I haven’t tried it yet.

So, does it work?

The accuracy is surprisingly good. I dictated about three paragraphs this morning and only one or two words were incorrect. Also, OneNote’s dictation doesn’t allow for speaking punctuation, which means you’ll have to add these after the fact. Additionally, few people actually write in OneNote, so you’ll have to paste the text into your document.

Overall, this could be great for someone whose hands are tired of typing or who cannot sit at a desk any longer than their job already requires. However, it doesn’t really increase productivity. This may just be me, but I take longer to think up good sentences when I have to speak them. Then, I have to go back and add punctuation marks and correct some words. And then paste it into my draft document. It’s easier to just write it from the get-go.

However, some authors say that it just takes getting used to. So, maybe if you’re more of a verbal/audio thinker and don’t have your hands available at all times, this is a good hack for you. I just don’t think I’ll be using it much.

3. Writing sprints

This has been around for quite some time, but I only really started using it when I attempted Camp Nanowrimo during my test month. Essentially, writing sprints entail setting a timer for somewhere under an hour and then just focusing on getting as many words written as possible before the timer goes off. There are many published authors who swear by this.

So, does it increase productivity?

Yes. Firstly, it pushes you to write when you wouldn’t have in other circumstances, since it allows you to utilise even the smallest free periods. Have an hour between classes? Find a flat surface and do a writing sprint. Have to study all evening? Do a 25-minute sprint before you start. Secondly, it also helps you get more words down in that time, because you don’t have to worry about what you have to do next or whether your writing is any good. All you focus on is producing as many words as possible before that timer goes off.

So, if you’re a busy person, try using writing sprints here and there to increase your productivity.

4. Writing groups

Many authors enjoy the camaraderie and accountability that comes with writing with a lot of other people, whether it be in a physical space or an online group. There’s a set time everyone in the group will be writing and you keep one another company, checking up on one another’s progress and sharing motivation.

Does it increase productivity?

Not for me. This is largely a personal thing, but I actually get less writing done in the presence of other people. I’m more anxious. I get distracted by other people’s comments. And I constantly find myself wondering when the session will end. To me, writing is a solitary thing. I work best holed up in my room with no one around and no one leaving online comments about their own writing. Yes, I love checking in on others’ progress and sharing my own on Instagram, but only after my writing session has finished.

However, you may find that writing groups work for you. Maybe not being alone is just nicer for you, regardless of whether you get more words down or not. So, this one is definitely dependent on the individual.

5. Background noise

Some writers create signature playlists for each of their WIPs. Some write specific scenes to specific songs. Others use white noise or instrumentals. But it’s clear that writing with some form of background sound works for a lot of authors.

Let me start by saying that I cannot get any work done when listening to music with lyrics. So, I didn’t even try this. Instead, I tried fantasy instrumental playlists on YouTube, rainymood.com and ambient-mixer.com

Does it work?

Sometimes.

If I’m writing a fight scene, listening to epic battle music will help me write it faster. I write at my best during thunderstorms, so rainymood.com definitely increases my productivity. Ambient mixer offers a huge variety of ambient sounds to listen to, ranging from scary woods to driving with the Winchesters. “Quiet library” on ambient mixer helps a lot when I have to study, but not really when I have to write. So, yes, in certain instances, background noise helps me write faster. But, mostly, I enjoy writing in silence or with natural, real-life sounds around me.

Once again, this is purely personal. Regardless, I can definitely recommend the two websites I mentioned above.

So, that’s all I have for you today. I hope that these “reviews” can help you decide which writing hacks will work for you. Remember that my asks are always open for creative writing questions, and that post submissions are always welcome!

Reblog if you found this post useful. Comment if there are any writing hacks you’d like me to try out in the future. Follow me for similar content.

#writing #writer #writers #campnanowrimo #Writing tips #writing advice #writeblr #writeblr advice #writing's hard #amwriting

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digitalagencyportlandblog · 3 years

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kyndaris · 3 years

Text

Suddenly Thirteen

When I was younger, one of my favourite films starred Jennifer Garner acting like a teenager who was pretending to be thirty. In high school, all I wanted to do was grow out of the phase of terrible acne and finally be able to get my driver’s licence. I had a thousand dreams. Each one more fantastic than the next. One day I would want to be an actuary, a researcher or an astronaut.

Fast forward a decade and a half, and I was still single, stuck in a job that I hate with a passion with no long-term career prospects as well as up to my eyeballs in debt. When had my life gone off the rails? Where had all the hopes and dreams flitted away to?

I glanced at the time down in the bottom right of the screen. It was two in the morning on a worknight and the only thing I could bring myself to do was scroll through Facebook, bitter and miserable. A glass of shiraz rested on my bedside table. It probably wasn’t a good idea but I needed some comfort after my explosive break-up with the man I had been dating for the last three months.

So, of course it seemed the perfect time to trawl through all the positivity that I could never have. A photo of a mouth-watering dinner from an acquaintance in the grade below me. Another Dungeons and Dragons post from old primary school friends that I had drifted away from over the years because life had felt it necessary to get in the way.

I was full of regrets and I had just barely hit thirty. A deadlier combination I knew not as I morosely pondered what could have been.

It was roughly two thirty in the morning before I closed my laptop and settled into bed. I knew it was a bad idea. Going to bed drunk and at so late an hour. Work would be hell when I woke up. The hangover would only serve to dampen whatever enthusiasm I had that it was a Friday. Maybe, though, I would be able to get away with calling in sick.

There was always a first time for everything.

My eyes had barely closed when my alarm sounded – loud and incessant – in my ear. Telling me that I needed to get out of bed if I wanted to arrive at work on time. Groggily, I reached for my phone on my bedside table, hoping to hit snooze. It wasn’t there. Frowning, I sat up and looked around my room.

Was it me or did it seem smaller? And had my bed been moved to the side?

Before I could make sense of what was happening, my door slammed open. Standing in the frame was a man that I had not seen for many years.

“Come on, Sharon, let’s get a decent breakfast in you. Don’t want to be late and starving for your first day at high school.”

This couldn’t be. I had to still be dreaming. Or perhaps my drink had been spiked. I pinched myself. Hard.

Pain lanced up my arm and I knew that this was no fever dream. Oh God. What was happening?

Sensing something was wrong, dad approached me. “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

“This isn’t right,” I blurted. “Am I still dreaming?”

Dad frowned at my response and crouched down next to me. “I know high school can be frightening. You’re going somewhere new. But it’s also exciting. Think of all the friends you’ll make and the things you’ll learn! Now, I’ll see to the waffles. Don’t want them to burn. Come out when you’ve changed, all right, sweetie?”

I sat in silence for several minutes, trying to wrap my head around everything. Dad was here. And alive. A sharp stab of longing pierced my chest. Even if I was still asleep and dreaming, I didn’t want to waste the opportunity of seeing him again.

Hastily, I climbed out of bed and padded over to the wardrobe. My old uniform sat neatly folded on the dresser. Within a minute, I had zipped up the skirt and buttoned up the crisp white shirt.

It was time to brush my teeth, wash my face and go down for breakfast.

Catching my reflection in the bathroom mirror, it took a few heartbeats for me to understand that I had been blasted back to when I was thirteen. No longer was my hair platinum blonde. Instead, it was the original muddy brown of my youth. My teeth were in disarray and my face was covered in freckles.

I shuddered at the thought of going through puberty again.

This wasn’t a dream. It was a nightmare.

Dad called my name again as I was just finishing up my ablutions. After taking one last look at my younger self in the mirror, I dashed down the stairs.

“Well, isn’t someone a little more chipper now?”

I didn’t say a word as I plonked down at the breakfast table. Dad was true to his word. Waffles, drizzled in maple syrup, sat before me. All of it seemed so surreal. I grabbed up fork and knife and began to eat in earnest, savouring each bite, even as I told myself that none of this was real. It couldn’t be.

Within minutes, I was finished. By 7.30, my bag was packed and I was in the car, waiting to be driven to the nearest bus stop.

A part of me was nervous as we drove down the familiar streets of my childhood. It had been years since I moved and I had never looked back. Yet, sitting in the car with my dad, I was reminded of all the wonderful moments I had shared.

Before I knew it, we arrived at the station. Dad came with me, looking as proud as ever, as we both waited for the bus. There were other children as well. Many that I recognised. To my right was Blake Johnson, short and skinny. In a few years, he would go through a growth spurt that would have him towering over even the teachers.

Seated on the bench, with her mum, was Floris Yu. She had on a thick pair of glasses and she had her hair tied up in twin pigtails. It was hard to believe that by the time we were all in university, she would have slept with half the boys in the grade.

It was nearly eight when the school bus finally pulled up.

“God, sometimes I wonder where the years went. You’re a big girl now, Sharon. Have a good day at school. Mum will be here to pick you up. But you’ll have to tell me everything that happens on your first day, all right?” Dad said as I was just about to board, tears in his eyes.

I hugged him tight, relishing his warmth. “Be careful on the roads, dad.”

“I will, sweetie. Now, go on.”

Taking an empty seat near the back of the bus, I pressed myself up against the window and waved desperately at him. Dad smiled and waved back. As the bus began to move and turn around the corner, dad stood there, as if imprinting this moment in his memory.

The first day passed by in a blur. I met my teachers as well as my future friends. Despite the fact that Olivia was now back to her awkward twelve-year old self, we clicked just as easily as the first time. Danielle was as chatty as I remembered her. Oliver, on the other hand, seemed lost and a little preoccupied. I wasn’t sure what was bothering him. Had never really paid it much attention because by the time we became fast friends in Year 9, he had got over that bump in his life.

Mum greeted me when I got off the bus. Before I could do or say anything, she grabbed hold of my schoolbag and slung it over one shoulder. “So, how was your first day? Make a lot of new friends?”

Smiling, I answered her. We talked until we reached the car and then we talked even as mum drove us back home.

I was still regaling mum with tales of my adventures as we walked through the front door and the phone in the kitchen rang. Mum went to pick it up. Her face went through an entire gamut of emotions. A feeling of dread welled up through me. Oh God, how could I have forgotten?

Gingerly, mum placed the phone back down. As if frightened it was going to turn around and bite her. She looked at me, eyes wide and her face as pale as death.

“What’s wrong?” I asked even as I cursed myself for being a fool. Caught up in living the fantasy that I found myself in, I had wiped away all traces of Patrick and his failing health.

“We need to go to the hospital.”

Without even changing out of my uniform, I clambered into the driver’s seat, adjusting it for my considerably shorter legs. Mum stared at me, lost for words when I asked for the keys. How could she just stand there when Patrick was on life support and awaiting the final decision to euthanise him?

“Come on. We need to go, mum. Now. I’m the better driver. Just throw on Google Maps on your phone and direct me.”

“Sharon, you’re thirteen. And what’s Google Maps?”

Cursing under my breath, I realised my error. It was supposed to be a dream, but it was damn near too realistic for my liking. “Forget it mum. I’m sorry,” I said as I climbed into the passenger’s seat. “Let’s just get going. Patrick needs us.”

Mum nodded mutely and got in the car. She turned on the ignition and effortlessly put the car into gear. I knew she had questions. But she had the wisdom to set them aside and concentrate on more immediate needs.

Within ten minutes, we turned into the driveway of the veterinary hospital. I hopped out of the car as soon as we came to a stop, unbuckling the seatbelt and flinging open the door. Mum shouted after me but I ignored her as I raced to the open doors where dad was standing.

“How’s Patrick doing?” I asked.

Dad shook his head. “He’s having trouble breathing. Doc says he’s on his last legs. We’d better hurry in.”

I pushed past him. My feet took me down the familiar corridors until I reached the operating room. Looking through the circular window, I spotted Leanne. She was easily recognisable. Despite the gown she wore, I could identify her blonde streaks that had been tied into a neat bun.

Lying still on the table was Patrick. He was my first dog. A golden retriever that had been my protector and friend for as long as I could remember.

Was he already gone? But then, his chest rose. Within seconds I was by his side, holding his face in my hands. Perhaps he sensed me there for his tongue came out to give me an affectionate lick.

“You’re going to be fine, Patrick.” I didn’t know if I was saying this to him or merely to console myself after witnessing the same event twice. It wasn’t fair.

A hand came to rest on my shoulder. It gave me a comforting squeeze. “I’m so sorry, Sharon.” Dad. It had to be.

I gently patted Patrick’s muzzle and gave him one last forlorn look before I sought the shelter of dad’s embrace.

“Why did it have to be him?” I said into his chest as we were gently ushered out. A part of me resented the fact that I couldn’t be there when Patrick took his last breath. Only Leanne bearing witness to his last moments. But she was the vet. And it was her job to see it through.

We arrived home, sad and despondent. The last few hours had stained the days in hues of grey. Dinner was a quiet affair. I went to bed early, unable to shake off the loss I felt, though I should have remembered it all having experienced it before. Somewhere over the years, the pain had healed. Now, the wound had torn open again.

If mum had allowed me, I would have preferred going to sleep with a glass of rum. Unfortunately, my mum had always been a stickler for rules and in this dream of mine, I was underage.

Oblivion was difficult to find. After tossing for what felt like hours, I fell into a fitful slumber – unsure of what the next day would bring and hoping that I would wake up in my proper time, where things made sense and the pain that felt so raw now was only a distant memory.

But when I blearily opened my eyes, I found myself again in my old childhood bedroom. Instead of tastefully selected paintings, there were a myriad of posters. Most of them featuring Disney Princesses. A part of me wanted to scream. The more adult part felt deflated – resigned to the fact that I was trapped in the wrong time period and forced to relive my teenage years.

I wasn’t sure why that was the case. More than likely, it was some cosmic joke.

Dad came in with a tray topped up with breakfast around seven. “I know yesterday was difficult, Sharon. It was hard for me as well. Patrick was with us for so long. But you need to eat. And when you’re finished, let’s have a talk. I can call up the school. Get you the rest of the week off.”

His offer was tempting. And in my previous past, I had taken him up on the offer. But this was supposed to be a dream. Or, at least, I believed it was. Curiosity got the better of me. I wanted to see where such a choice would lead me as I already knew the alternative: bound to the bed for six days and moping around the house. It had meant playing catch-up when everyone else had picked the friendships that would last for more than a decade.

It was with great effort that I pulled myself from the warmth and comfort of my covers and slipped once again into my school uniform. Though I had experienced the death of Patrick before, the pain of his loss was still as visceral as ever.

Dad understood that when I gave him my bravest smile and said, “I can do this. Patrick wouldn’t have wanted me to be crying my eyes out all day anyways. Just because I’m at school doesn’t mean I won’t miss him.”

“That’s the spirit.”

It was a near thing, but I managed to scoff down breakfast, get dressed, pack my bag and arrive at the station just as the school bus trundled up. I got on, determined to have a good day at school. Even though I might have appeared as if I was just thirteen, I knew that in my head I was a grown woman that had already gone through a whole host of experiences.

With time, I knew, that the pain of losing Patrick all over again would dull. It was simply a matter of putting on a strong façade for the rest of the day.

The second day of school went by as quickly as the first. Before I knew it, the final bell had rung and I was on the bus back home. For a short while, as I was relearning the names of my teachers, I could forget that I was trapped in a different time and that my loyal dog that I had known all my life had passed away the day before.

Never before had I thought high school as a place to forget my woes. My memories of the teenage years had been filled with confusion and angst and worries about the changes my body was going through. Coupled with the pressure to perform and the mountain of homework that I always left to the last minute, it seemed like a miracle when I finally graduated.

Yet, here I was, putting aside the grief and pain as I socialised with the teenager versions of some of my oldest friends. It was striking how far we had come. From precocious students who dreamed of the world to weary adults, caught in the grind of the corporate machine even as we hid our misery by posting edited photos on Instagram and Facebook.

When I walked home from the bus stop later in the afternoon, I felt better than I would have thought given the recent death of Patrick. Rather than desiring to curl up into a foetal ball, I was filled with the determination to change my future.

It was to these thoughts that I fell asleep, after having completed my homework. For close to an hour, I had tried to figure out the maths equations that had never had any bearing in my position as a slave to capitalism.

Rays of sunlight peeked through my window when I jolted out of bed. I glanced towards the alarm clock, hoping to glean the time, but it was missing. Instead, an iPhone sat in its place and it was ringing shrilly. I picked it up. The time read 7:30AM.

Still muddled by sleep, I had just shimmied out of my pyjamas when I realised that things were not quite right. Back in high school, I didn’t have a smart phone. It would still be another year or so before Steve Jobs would announce his creation to the world at the Macworld convention. And it wasn’t until my first year at university that I had acquired my first Samsung S2. Purchased, of course, with my own money earned from a part-time job.

Nor had dad come in to check if something was wrong.

Looking at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I confirmed my suspicions. Thirty-year old Sharon stared back at me. Hair, dyed blonde at the tips with dark roots threatening to undo all my good work. I was back in my time. The strange dream that had held me hostage had ended.

A part of me felt bereft. The halcyon days of my youth were gone. A second time.

I let out a frustrated breath and checked the time and date on my smart phone again. Now was not the time of reminiscing over what could have been. I had an hour to shower, get dressed and head to work. Another day in the cubicle, earning the money I needed to survive in a cold and unfeeling world.

God. I needed a coffee. And I needed it yesterday.

The day passed as slowly as a snail. By eleven, I was jittery, wishing for the day to end. My earlier musings of what to have to lunch replaced by the monotonous repetition of office busywork. Jenny, one of my work colleagues, seemed to sense my mercurial mood.

“What’s up, Sharon? You don’t seem to be blazing through your cases as quickly as you usually do after your banana bread and skim latte combo.”

“Just got a lot of things on my mind, Jenny.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” I said as I opened up another spreadsheet that reduced a person’s life into a series of indecipherable numbers.

She took the hint and kept quiet until lunch time finally rolled around. And before she could invite me out for a walk and offer to shout me some sushi from the restaurant down the street, I was already out of my seat, headed for the elevators. Luck smiled upon me and I managed to get into one of the death traps on my lonesome. But despite the myriad of choices for lunch along the street where my work was situated, I didn’t feel hungry. Instead, I simply let my feet lead me through the labyrinth of streets in the bustling central business district of the city – searching for something I could not quite name.

I returned, five minutes after the prescribed end of lunch. Jenny looked up from her desk, eyebrows arched into a question that I purposely ignored.

As soon as the time on the bottom right of the computer screen hit 5PM, my bag was packed and I was in the first available lift.

Within thirty minutes, I walked through my front door. The keys went to their usual tray, my bag landed precariously on the dining room table and I plonked myself on the sofa. Hunger had my stomach growling but I could not bring myself to start preparing dinner. Exhaustion tugged at every limb, despite the fact that I had done little in physical exertion. It was easier to just let the lid of my eyes close and allow my mind to drift.

When next I woke, morning light was shining through the blinds. Groaning, I sat up and stretched – trying to rid myself of the kinks. Having missed lunch and dinner the day before, I was starving. Still half-asleep, I went to my bag to fetch my phone and take a gander at the time.

But no matter my efforts, the screen remained black. Shit. After what felt like ten minutes, I managed to find my charger. At the very least, today was a Saturday and I had no plans beyond a property inspection. If I was lucky, I could squeeze in some time to finish the detailing on my next costume for the convention next month.

The day went quickly, even though I lounged around the apartment for most of the day. A quick jaunt onto Facebook only helped further my apathy as I scrolled through posts filled with fun and laughter. In my head, I knew that many of the pictures I saw were curated. Did I not do the same when I tried out a new café? The image of who I was on the internet was never quite the perfect representation of who I was in reality.

By 8 in the evening, I was ready to slink back into bed. Just as I was about to shut my laptop, Facebook Messenger popped up with an alert. Curiosity won out and I clicked it open without first glancing at the name.

Hey! How’s it going? I know it’s been a few years, but damn, how’s life treating you?

My gaze drifted to the profile picture in the upper left corner and the name emblazoned in bold white letters. Simon Lau. After we had gone to different universities, studying distinctly different degrees – he had studied medicine, whereas I had wasted most of my loan on a diploma in business – it came as a bit of a shock.

Hi Simon. Life’s been good for the most part. What about you? From the pictures and posts I’ve seen it seems as if you’ve been keeping busy.

Yeah. It’s been hectic. Finally managed to get tenure at my local hospital. Being a doctor isn’t easy. The hours are long and the pay is pretty lousy.

Well, I do believe congratulations are in order. Becoming a doctor is no small feat.

What about you?

I stared at the words, wondering how much of my life to reveal. When I compared myself to the achievements of many of my other friends, it felt like I had done little. An anime and boardgame fanatic with a flair for the dramatic.

I’ve hardly achieved anything of note.

That can’t be true. The Sharon I knew in school was a powerhouse. Sure, you might not have gotten the best grades, but I’m sure that you would have achieved anything you set your mind to. In fact, I’m kind of envious of the cosplay photos you’ve been putting up.

A smile broke across my lips. I had missed the conversations I used to have with Simon. We had met in fifth grade, as part of a gifted and talented initiative held by our school. From the moment he had shyly introduced himself one recess early in Term 2, we became inseparable as we poured over our love for Neopets and Little Figher 2.

Somehow, we chatted until midnight as we reminisced over the old days. Before I logged off for some much-needed rest, we exchanged mobile numbers and set up a meeting point for the convention that would be in town for the long weekend.

I fell asleep, grinning from ear to ear.

Within moments, I was rudely awoken by my alarm clock. With a groan, I sat up in bed and reached one hand to shut it down. As I yawned and blearily looked around my room, I was shocked to find myself once again in my old childhood home. I was back in the past again, reliving my time during high school.

For months, I lived two lives. One in the past, and one in my current time. Just like the first time I had ventured into my high school days, I was able to change small elements and make better decisions. When Floris came to me, dishevelled and shaking from an encounter she did not want to talk about, I was able to offer her a shoulder to cry on rather than be consumed by my own selfish problems.

It made me understand her a little more and see why her path so swiftly diverged from mine back in Year 8. In my present, there were also slight differences. As if somehow my actions were like the beating of a butterfly’s wings. Or perhaps I was simply seeing through different eyes. After all, having the ability to go back in time and make changes for the better seemed farfetched and I still wasn’t entirely convinced that I was having incredibly lucid dreams.

But what mattered during the second chance I was given were the moments I spent with dad, as well as being able to see my classmates in a different light.

All of that changed, however, as I was wrapping up work and my phone buzzed. I was back in the present again, after enjoying two weeks of school holidays where I had messaged Simon almost every single day. Frowning, I glanced down at the caller id that was flashing on my screen. It read ‘Beau.’ For a moment, I was confused. Only a few days ago, I had been scrolling through Tindr as the sole occupant of my apartment. My rooms had been a mess. Every spare surface covered in various pieces of fabric in a desperate bid to complete my costume before the upcoming event.

After all, I was going as my favourite character from a popular video game franchise.

Curiosity won the best of me. I accepted the call and was surprised by the voice I heard on the other end.

“Good evening, milady. Did you have a good day in the office?” asked Simon Lau. “I’ll be home around six and can come over to help for the last stretch. That okay with you?”

I was at a loss for words. Was Simon my boyfriend? It didn’t seem quite real. Yet, as I searched through my memories, new ones overlaid the old. After dancing around each other all throughout high school, we officially entered into a relationship during first year of uni. And though we had the occasional fight here and there, there had only been one instance when I had seriously considered of breaking up with him.

Simon was my second half. He knew me inside and out. Just as I did him.

“—Earth to Sharon. Are you still there?”

A smile slowly curled the tips of my lips upward. “Sorry. Just remembering how lucky I’ve been to have you by my side.”

“Of course. I wake up every day grateful I can see a handsome doctor with impeccable musculature in the mirror each day.”

“Narcissist.”

He chuckled. “Hey, you’re the one that brought it up in the first place.”

“I only said that I love having you by my side. Looking back, it almost seems predetermined,” I said. A giddy moment passed before a faint memory flitted across my mind that left me feeling hollowed out. “Sometimes I wonder what might have happened if things had gone differently. The thought chills me to the core.”

“There’s nothing to fear, Sharon. I’ll be back over before you know it. Just wrapping up the last of my shift,” said Simon, seemingly to sense my doubts and wanting to allay them. He was wasted as a doctor in the local hospital. But it was his passion to help and render assistance to those that needed it the most. And who was I to stand in the way of his desire when it was the thing that drew me to him? “Can you hold on until then?”

“Yes. I’ll see you soon.”

“Love you.”

With that, I ended the call – my heart lightened. God. What was wrong with me? Wondering what life would have been like if Simon wasn’t with me? The mere idea was inconceivable.

I stared at my phone, and the nickname I had given Simon, for several minutes before I pocketed it away. Dinner. And then, when he came, I could resume the work on our cosplay outfits for the event the week after next.

The dreams continued, though they mostly played out like memories of a time that sat parallel to what I knew to be true. Yet, they seemed so real. Back in my high school days, I lived a different life to the one I knew. Simon, for one, despite my best efforts, seemed to drift away from me. We had different circles of friends and pursued individual interests. The childhood connection we had was not strong enough to keep us linked.

Each morning I would wake up, covered in sweat, and glance to the spot next to mine in bed. On the days he stayed over, he was a warm presence by my side and my fears were allayed. For the nights that he had a particularly late shift, I had to wrangle my anxiety into submission with relief only brought upon by hearing Simon’s voice.

It was a dangerous line I walked.

And it felt like I was losing my mind. The mismatch of memories weighed heavily on my mind as I went through the motions of work and putting the finishing touches to both my and Simon’s costumes for the convention that was the coming weekend. After all, we were going as a pair from an animated show, though I had the feeling I had initially wanted it to be from my favourite video game.

Alas, the work would have been too great. At least for Simon’s outfit, as I had no access to a furnace if I wanted to ensure complete and utter accuracy. Foam was great and all, but nothing could beat a proper metal chain.

We finished the costumes just a day shy of the big event. To my great joy, as we tried them on, to learn that they fitted as well as a glove – although mine was a little tight around the chest. Simon, on the other land, looked impeccable. Once he had the wig on, he would be nigh on indistinguishable from the character he was cosplaying as.

I, on the other hand, was a little too short to be a perfect representation of my character. It didn’t matter though. What was important was that we were matched in perfect synchronicity and that others knew that we were together.

“Looking good. I could almost mistake you for an elf,” said Simon.

“The ears will go on tomorrow. I don’t want to risk damaging them.” Slowly and carefully, I tugged off my boots. “What about you? Ready for the big day?”

“You know it,” he said with a grin. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need the bathroom. And while these trousers are sublime, it’s going to take me a while to wiggle out of them.”

As soon as he disappeared down the hallway, the phone that he left on the coffee table lit up. I knew it was rude to take a look. Yet I feared that Simon would be called away for another shift at the hospital. So, risking a glance towards the bathroom, I picked up his phone and read the text message.

The words within immediately pierced my heart, shattering it into a thousand pieces. I tried my hardest to rationalise it all away. Surely, it was a joke. Or perhaps it had been sent to the wrong person.

But a second look only confirmed my worst fears. Why, on God’s green Earth, did it have to be Amy Fletcher?

Looking through the memories that weren’t my own, I knew she had been Simon’s girlfriend ever since Year 12 prom. During first year of university, they had broken up over something that most would have considered silly or stupid. At least, that was the rumour I’d heard on the grapevine as I focused on my own achievements. They had got back together in third year and everywhere they went, people said that they were inseparable. The perfect couple.

Yet, in my timeline, none of that happened. Simon was my boyfriend. Had been since high school. So, why the Hell was he receiving texts from Amy? And ones that seemed to border on what decent people might label licentious?

“What is this?” I demanded when Simon came back from his trip to the bathroom.

He looked at me, confused. “My phone?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Simon,” I snapped at him, fuelled by righteous anger. “Why is Amy fucking Fletcher sending you texts?”

“We bumped into each other last Friday. One thing led to another and we had coffee. Then, I don’t know, we exchanged numbers,” said Simon, his tone defensive. “Nothing came of it. It was just an innocent and casual catch-up.”

I didn’t believe him. How could I? The evidence was right there. In my hand. “Then why is she asking for pics, Simon?”

He stepped up to face me, his face red as a tomato. Before I could react, he snatched his phone from my grasp and looked at the screen. A minute passed. Maybe two. All I heard in the deafening silence was the sound of my heart beating an erratic tattoo.

Then finally a giggle. A bit of a chuckle and before I knew it, Simon had thrown his head back as he laughed and laughed and laughed.

To say that I was shocked would have been an understatement. Here I was, with evidence of his infidelity, and all Simon did was find amusement at my own expense. It was enough for me to see red. Desperately, I tried to swipe his phone back. But he was taller. His arms much longer.

He dangled his phone just out of reach, as if it was all a game. Each time I jumped Simon would duck under my grasp. And when I shouted obscenities, he ignored them with an easy smile.

It was only when I had tears trailing down my cheeks, threatening to walk out and throw the costumes I had laboured over for countless hours into the nearest dumpster, that he finally stopped. The expression on his face now serious and concerned. “Oh, come on Sharon. Can’t you see? She was asking for our cosplay photos. Just innocent and harmless fun. Stop acting like a baby. You’re better than this.”

“Why? Amy has never cared for the ‘geeky’ stuff. In ninth grade, she said anime was for little kids or people that hadn’t grown up.”

“Give her a bit of credit, Sharon. Not everyone has to be into pop culture. Sure, they can watch a couple of shows on Netflix, but you shouldn’t deride them for liking things like The Christmas Prince instead of Die Hard.”

I knew he was right. It was Simon, after all. But I didn’t like it. I fell into a sullen silence. Intractable to any of his overtures for peace.

“Goddammit, Sharon. Don’t just shut me out,” he said as he changed into his shorts and a ratty old t-shirt he used as bedwear. I was already under the covers, after having spent a good forty minutes in the shower. He tried to cuddle, but I was having none of it. With a sigh, Simon turned away. I knew I was being spiteful, but I couldn’t help it. The rage was still there and it would not be appeased.

It was as if it had taken on a life of its own. One that screamed vengeance at the wrong that Amy fucking Fletcher had done to me by texting my boyfriend.

Even when the lights turned off, I lay in bed, brain in overdrive as I pondered my next steps. Amy Fletcher would not get away with this.

The next day dawned. Though I had not slept, I was still buzzing with nervous energy. Jittery, almost, in anticipation of what was to come. Simon kept mostly busy with convention preparations, pausing every so often to look at his phone. He didn’t notice. Not when he saw the texts Amy sent his way. I wanted to wipe that giddy-looking smile off his face. How could he do this to me? I was his girlfriend. Not Amy.

Even as I seethed, I was reassured by the plan that had come to me overnight. The old memories – of another time – had provided the answer I sought: Amy Fletcher’s address. It wasn’t far. It was only a ten to twenty-minute drive away. Given the traffic, it was plenty of time to get there, do what I needed and return before we set out to the convention.

Just to ease the burgeoning anxiety within me, in case things should go horribly wrong, I had slipped out of bed at three and Googled the address in my head. The Street View of the house matched several photos on her Instagram and Facebook. If I was wrong, I would simply play it off as mistaken identity.

I couldn’t say it was a good plan. But it was the only one that I could come up with that would satisfy the raging beast inside me.

“Where are you going?” Simon asked when I headed to the door at a few minutes past seven.

“Hardware store,” I replied. “Picking up a few more things that I forgot. It’s for the costume.” And then, I made the error that would cost me nearly everything. “You know, glue gun refills. Just in case something falls off.”

Perhaps if I had stayed longer, I would have seen the consternation on Simon’s face. Focused solely on the goal that I had set for myself, I hurried to the car. In my bag, I had my phone, keys, wallet and a sharp knife that I filched from the kitchen.

Traffic was light and I arrived at Amy Fletcher’s house with time to spare. For several long minutes, I sat in the car. My mind was a cacophony of noise. A part of me wanted to abandon the crazy idea that had seized me. The other, louder part, wanted to push on. It was unable to rest easy knowing that there was a threat to the perfect image of Simon and I.

When my hands had steadied, I opened the car door and walked to the white front door on stiff legs. Just to the side, hidden in a small alcove, was the doorbell. I pressed it.

Every second that slipped by felt like an hour. Until the door opened and standing before me was Amy Fletcher, her long brown hair, with blond highlights, was tussled and she was dressed in pyjamas covered in cartoon rabbits.

“Hi. You’re Sharon, right? Simon talked a lot about you when we caught up the other day. He said that you were going to a convention today. What brings you here?”

“Well, I heard you lived close by and I was in the neighbourhood,” I said, ducking underneath her arm as I forced my way inside. “This place is lovely. Did it cost a lot? God, I’m kind of envious, y’know. Simon and I, well, we haven’t been able to afford a house yet.”

“Hold on. Stop.” Amy Fletcher called out after me as I took a look at her two-bedroom house, situated in a quiet and idyllic suburb. “You can’t just come barging in. I know that we used to go to high school together, but it’s still very early in the morning.”

She caught up with me as I arrived in the kitchen, puffing a little. Her hand landed on my shoulder: a warning and a threat. It was enough.

I whirled around, one hand digging deep in my purse until my fingers had curled around the handle of my sharpest kitchen knife, and then I plunged the blade into her chest. Thirty fucking times.

Her screams were delicious as blood spurted. The beast, lurking with me, was appeased at the sight. As Amy Fletcher lay on the ground, her heart pumping out the last few litres of blood, a feral grin stretched across my face. I had done it. Simon was mine.

As I headed to the sink to wash up, I heard the first faint sirens. I dismissed it at first, until my phone rang.

Beau.

I picked up. What else could I do? Simon was my one and only. I didn’t know who had ratted me out, but I knew that I had to tell Simon. He would understand. He would be there for me.

“What have you done, Sharon?” were his first words to me. “I called the cops as soon as I noticed the missing knife. Tell me you haven’t done anything to harm Amy.”

Red. All I saw was red at his words.

“I’ve removed her from the equation,” I said with murderous glee, hoping to wound him with my words. How dare he accuse me when I was trying to salvage our relationship? If I hadn’t acted, Amy Fletcher would have inserted herself into our everyday and ruined our lives. “Don’t you understand, Simon? She was a fucking homewrecker. I did you a favour. I did the fucking world a favour.”

“You’re mad.”

Me? Mad? Simon thought I was crazy?

I laughed at the insinuation. Simon knew nothing of my madness. Of what I would do just to keep the world mine. The lengths I would go…

But as I looked at the dead body before me, the reality of my situation came crashing down on me. I know I shouldn’t have found it funny, but I could not stop. One I had started, all I could see was my future slipping away because of the mess I made. Tears pricked at the corner of my eyes. Why had I let all my fears and anxieties take control? Amy Fletcher, despite all her faults, did not deserve what I did to her.

The police found me in the kitchen, murder weapon in my right hand and my phone in the left.

As they dragged me out, handcuffed, I continued to laugh. Even as the world faded to laugh, all I could hear were my high-pitched cackles of depravity…

With a groan, I woke up, and blearily blinked at my surroundings. It took me a moment to recognise that I was still seated at the kitchen table, my face pressed against the keys of my laptop. Beside me, was an empty glass of red wine. As for the bottle itself, it had rolled to a stop on the counter-top and seemed ready to plunge over the side. Luckily, I had corked it or else I would be cleaning up the stains for a few weekends.

Shit. Stiffly, I got out of my seat to rescue the still half-full bottle. As I picked it up, I managed to catch a glimpse of the label.

Devil’s Touch: Let your inner desires come alive

I scoffed. Yeah right. More like my bloody nightmares. Running a hand over my face, I wondered if anything had been real or if it had just been an overactive imagination fuelled by the alcohol I had ingested. Probably the latter, I decided as I placed the bottle into the fridge.

Glancing quickly at the time, 3:50AM, I packed up my laptop and headed to my bedroom.

Just as I was about to grab another two or three hours of oblivion, I was startled back into full awareness when I heard a sharp rap on my apartment door. There was no mistaking the sound, however hard I wanted to try. I looked at my phone. It had ticked to 4 in the morning.

Grousing, I slipped into my robe and padded on sock-covered feet to see who had come calling in the early hours of the morning. Whoever it was, they had better have a good explanation for disturbing the rest of my pitiful night, I thought, as I opened the door.

#short story #suddenly thirteen #nostalgia is a strong tool

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exeggcute · 4 years

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glad to know you are mostly recovered from covid! if i may ask, could you describe how where your symptoms or at what pace you got them? the information i've got from both medical / govermental sources in my country is contradictory at times. also, what would you recommend drinking if i found myself to be with covid?

first off: WATER!!! drink water!!! I mean you can probably drink whatever as long as it’s moderately healthy and you’re staying hydrated (my drink of choice while sick is red gatorade. it has to be red or it doesn’t work though) but water is always a safe bet

also I’m happy to share my experience, just know that (1) I am not a doctor, just a professional Sick Person and (2) I never officially got tested thanks to a shortage of coronavirus tests in my area, but I’m pretty damn sure my symptoms were aligned with covid-19, so take that as you will

the first thing I noticed was a sore throat... but I have sore throats allll the time because of my other health issues, so I didn’t think much of it. I did start to notice my sore throat was getting better (from a previous mystery illness that knocked me out for a few days, and which I initially thought was strep but was probably just a bad cold) before suddenly getting bad again. I also had a day where my sore throat was especially pronounced and I had that Really Tired Feeling you get when you’re sick. I guess we can call that day one, but at this point I definitely didn’t think I had corona

that night I noticed some chest tightness, which I initially wrote off as an anxiety attack (and considering my extremely anxious personality and the fact that we were battening down the hatches for a pandemic, that seemed like a fair assumption) but using my inhaler didn’t help--in fact, it made the pain worse! but it did pass eventually, more or less, and I forgot about it

(side note here that if you think you have corona, do NOT use your albuterol inhaler or any kind of steroid inhaler unless you’re having a legit asthma attack with wheezing and all the works. using your inhaler can make the corona symptoms worse, but obviously if you need to use it then it’s important to keep using it. consult your doctor. also another similar note: if you think you have it, stay away from most NSAIDs if you can, as those can also make things worse. tylenol is okay though as long as you’re careful about the dosage--not as a corona thing, you just always need to be careful with tylenol dosage. and it’ll help keep your fever down, which is important!)

then over the next day or two I noticed the chest pain flare-ups but wrote those off as well. they were short-lived and mainly seemed to happen at night, but the inhaler always made them worse. around this time I also started experiencing some general GI upset for a few days (not to get too into that...), but I have a very touchy digestive track and was taking antibiotics at the same for other unrelated reasons, so I was like “well it’s probably nothing” but was starting to get worried.

then about five days later, the chest tightness really made itself present. like, it lasted all day and was constant. I was concerned but not immediately freaking out, and it was really windy that day so I kind of chalked it up to allergies, but as a very allergic person I’ve never had chest tightness like that from allergies (and my other allergic symptoms have improved considerably since I started allergy shots, so it would be weird to have a new symptom crop up out of nowhere like that).

then the next day, and the next day, the tightness wasn’t going away. this was clearly not allergies. I started to seriously think about corona tests, and I even called my primary care doctor, but she was extremely dismissive (all she did was call in a prescription for an old allergy drug that never even worked for me in the first place) and it was downright impossible to get tested. I was freaked out, but not entirely sure.

it’s about day seven at this point, and the chest tightness is in full swing. when I first wake up, the pain isn’t really present, but after about an hour of wakefulness my chest starts to get tight, congested, and kind of has that rattle-y feeling when it’s full of mucus and crap from the postnasal drip. not much congestion otherwise, but I’m so hopped up on antihistamines at all times that I don’t really get congested in general. the best way I can describe the chest tightness is that it feels like when I exert myself and my asthma makes my chest seize up and it’s hard to catch my breath (aka every single PE class I was ever forced to take as a kid), but my inhaler doesn’t do shit. my throat is still hurting pretty bad too and I feel vaguely fevery, but I don’t have a working thermometer at home. overall I just feel shitty, like that feeling you have when you know you’re sick (and I get sick a lot so I’m pretty well-versed in that lol). for quarantine purposes, this is the day I’ve been counting as the “first day” of having obvious corona symptoms, but it was really predated by the things I described above.

several days pass like this, I keep trying to get tested and call all sorts of places but it’s all dead ends. I also develop a slight cough, which mostly comes in bursts or when I speak/eat. by day twelve I manage to get a primary care appointment, and they do an EKG to make sure it’s not cardiac pain (the EKG came back fine) and a throat swab to see if it’s something bacterial (it’s not). they do confirm I’m running a slight fever, although my body temperature is usually so low that even a fever of 99 is high for me. my primary care doc basically tells me to fuck off and stay home, which I was already planning on doing. she also didn’t even wear a mask or gloves to look into my throat, despite the fact that all the other nurses in the practice were wearing masks and gloves when they interacted with patients... so I’m not exactly full of confidence in her judgement here.

the night of day thirteen, the day after seeing my doctor, I have a night where I can’t sleep because my airway feels restricted (both in my chest and my actual throat being swollen from pain). I used my inhaler, like a fool, and when the inhaler didn’t help the first time I tried using it two more times. big mistake! I ended up lying awake gasping for air, taking huge gulps just to feel like I was getting the teeniest bit of oxygen, and feeling stabbing pain when I took these deep breaths. I was too afraid to sleep and almost made my girlfriend drive me to the ER but I hate going to the ER so instead I just tried to calm down until I got exhausted enough to fall asleep around dawn. I also kept alternating between sweating buckets and shivering to death, no matter how I kept adjusting the temperature and my blankets, so I assume I was having a crazy fever that night.

the next day, roughly day fourteen, I decided to suck it up and go to the ER to get a chest x-ray. they said my x-ray looked fine, which was encouraging (hopefully no permanent lung damage there), and they took a flu swab and a strep swab just to rule those out (both negative, of course). at least two other people were there with me in the ER complaining of similar symptoms, but they didn’t have any tests for us so the doctor just told me to go home, act as if I had it, and keep taking tylenol and drinking water. this doctor is also the one who told me to stop using my inhaler--and the fact that my inhaler kept making the pain worse is one of the things that really tips me off here that I probably had it.

things are pretty much uneventful for the next week: still having a tight chest, a fever that seems to come and go, sore throat, cough. no more crazy attacks like that one night.

by day nineteen (yesterday) I start to notice a bit of improvement in my chest pain. it’s not gone, but it’s not as bad and I’ll have slight reprieves from the tightness. today is day twenty (more or less, my numbers are a little rough here) and I actually felt okay most of the day. by the evening the tightness returned and I’m still coughing every now and then, but far less often. I think the fever is gone and my throat doesn’t hurt too bad, either! I’m well past the point of being contagious, so I actually went to the grocery store today and got a few things. I’m not totally out of the woods yet, but I think (knock on fucking wood) the worst has passed.

anyway, I hope my anecdote is helpful for you, and I hope you stay safe and healthy!

#long post #Anonymous

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imnotcreativeenoughtomakegoodurl · 5 years

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Dean X cop! Reader: Soulmate AU - Part 1

Genre: Dean X Reader, fluff (??), soulmate AU, slight angst/whump (if you squint)

Warnings: Description of injury/blood (let me know if I missed any) Summary:

Summary: This is based on the soulmate AU where any unnatural markings or blemishes (cuts, bruises, stains, marker, ect…) on your body will show up on your soulmate’s body. You got the short straw with whoever your soulmate was-This crazy bastard was always getting the holy hell beat out of him. Waking up in the dead of night feeling like a truck had just run you over went from terrifying to extremely annoying as time went on, but you always did your best to stay safe after one of those nights. However, being a homicide detective, “safe” wasn’t a word you got to use often.

“Back again?” The doctor asked, flipping through the clipboard Janice had left on the door.

“Don’t worry Dan, Janice has already patched me up and just wanted you to check me over before discharge in case this is anything like last time.” You explained, casually rolling up your shirt to show Dan your several bruised ribs and what once was a deep gash in your side.

You were in and out of the hospital so often that you were on a first-name basis with the majority of the staff and even friends with several. It was almost routine for you to walk- or even be carried in at least once a week with an assortment of bruises, open wounds and the occasional broken bone. They often joked that once you met your soulmate they would thank him or her for giving them such a dedicated customer, that is if your soulmate didn’t get themselves or you killed anytime soon. There have been several times when your soulmate must’ve made the choice to fight a bear or something because more than once, you’ve come in half dead.

"Looks all good to me, (Y/N)," Dan said and you rolled your shirt back down.

He signed your discharge form while you gingerly slipped on your coat and detective badge. Dan indiscreetly watched the detective badge glinting on your belt disapprovingly as he walked you to the front desk.

"Hey, you gave me the all-clear, doc. Besides, if I don’t leave now, I’ll be late.” You said as you slid the paper across to the desk for Oliver to look over.

“Are you sure you’re ready to go back to work? Right now, today? I mean, I discharged you but that doesn’t mean you should pass up some bed rest.” Dan advises.

“I really don’t think there’s a point, Doctor.” Oliver sighs, handing you back some papers.

“I’m sorry but, Oliver’s right, Dan.” You feign an over apologetic tone, slipping the papers into your bag while walking backwards “There’s been more of those creepy homicides and the PD needs all hands on deck. There’s nothing I can do.”

“Oh, that’s bull and we all know it.” Oliver calls out, making Dan snort.

“Hey, whose side are you on, Oliver?” You demand. But halfway out the door you turn back and joke “Don’t worry though, I’ll be careful. My soulmate really doesn’t need another injury!”

When you make it to the precinct no one needs to ask why you’re late. Your soulmate problems are a well-known routine here as well. You slide into your desk but before you can even begin to crack the surface of the mountain of files before you, your secondary rushes over, brimming with enthusiasm.

“So primary, what’s the plan for today? Check-in at the crime scene? Take a look at those corpses firsthand? Interview suspects? Well, I suppose we should properly look over the security footage we just got-“

You have to grab Natasha's arm to get her to stop bouncing around. “Let’s tackle one question at a time. I know this is your first homicide case as a detective and it’s starting to get pretty damn interesting, but we need to keep our heads clear.”

You look Natasha in the eye and half expect to see her pupils vibrating out of excitement. When they don’t and she just nods so hard that her blonde ponytail almost flops over her head, you sit her down and continue; “So, what do we know about the killer, Palmer?”

You’ve barely finished your question before Natasha starts chattering away “Again, you can just call me Tasha, I’m not big on formalities. It’s so weird y’know-“

“Tasha?”

“Right, the killer. They first struck a week ago and killed Patricia Davids and Brian Lee We know their MO is to kill a man and a woman within twenty-four hours by stabbing the victim’s brain through the eye sockets. The man and woman are usually involved romantically in some way, so we’re thinking that the motivation is love and the killer is someone with a vendetta against romance. Have you found out anything else on this lead?”

And once again, before you can respond Natasha gets sidetracked "This works so well! This whole call and response thing where we bounce clues around is never something I got to do as a cop! I-“

“Well I’m glad you enjoy this tactic, Tasha, but it’d kind of dead in the water if only you get to respond.” You explain, feeling slightly guilty when she sagged a little at getting shut down for the second time.

You leaned in conspiratorially and as expected, Tasha’s excitement came flooding back as she leaned in to listen like a schoolgirl being let in on a secret “I went and checked out each victim's itineraries leading up to the homicides and got a connection: The last time each couple was seen together was at Vicci’s Diner. I was thinkin-“

“What’s so special about Vicci’s Diner?” An unfamiliar voice asked from behind you.

Slightly ticked at the fact that more reporters wanted info on the murders, you put on your best passive-aggressive smile and turned.

Two men you guessed to be in their early to mid-thirties, wearing layered overclothes and muted colours looked down at you. The taller one had a longer hair and slouched a little, almost like he didn’t want to intimidate anyone with his height. The shorter one had green eyes that were fixed on Natasha and you could’ve sensed from miles away that he was about to hit on her.

“I’m Sam, this is Dean.” The taller one introduces “We’d like to ask some questions about the Davids and Lee case.”

“I’m sorry, but as I’ve told the several other reporters; we’ve already had all the information we’re allowed to disclose published so you can go and check that source.” You said through a gritted smile before turning your back on them.

“Well, can’t you tell us again? We want to hear it straight from the source.” Dean says a little too automatically, giving away that they had coaxed info out of people one too many times.

“What was the crime scene like?” Sam asks, hot on Dean’s tail “Did it maybe smell odd? Did things not add up? Any weird patterns?”

Tasha opens her mouth eagerly to answer but you didn't trust Sam's bizarre questioning and their rundown attire showed that they weren’t reporting for anything too serious.

“Well it’s a murder scene so things did smell a bit fishy and if things added up we would’ve found the killer- I’m sorry but I didn’t catch what news publishers you were reporting for.” You pointed out, watching the men’s eyes meet and Dean crosses his arms across his chest to seem more authoritarian as he prepares to deliver what you know is going to be a lie.

“Who’s the primary?” Sam asks, now addressing the two of you and dodging the question.

“Oh, it's not me.” Tasha answers placing her hands proudly on your shoulders from behind “It’s detective (Y/N) (L/N).”

Dean looks almost surprised, as most people do when they find out that someone like you is a high-ranking detective. For some reason, it ticked you off more when Dean didn’t think that you were one to solve double homicides than it did anyone else.

Great now the lack of sleep from bleeding all night was making you seek approval from a total stranger.

“Damn okay, I was expecting your pretty lookn’ partner to bee the primary but I can see how you could’ve fought your way to the top.” Dean smoothly dishes out a compliment with a smirk and once again you can tell that this is something he did often.

Sam elbows Dean and resumes the one-sided questioning “Could you tell us something about Vicci’s Diner maybe? Has anything like this ever happened before in this city?” You sigh and stand up from your desk.

Placing a hand on each of their backs you turn the boys around and guide them to the exit “Vicci’s Diner is a really nice place downtown that had some great soup and occasionally carters to the homeless. Personally, I would recommend their grilled cheese and I would also like to work on the case so I actually have some new information to give you ‘reporters’.”

You gently nudge them out the precinct doors and scribble your address and number onto a scrap piece of paper “Now I don’t know who you guy actually work for but if you really are that desperate for a firsthand account swing by at night and you guys can help me finish my pie while we talk.”

The door closes in the Winchester’s face and you hurry back to your desk, massaging your temples.

Did I really just give two complete strangers my address? God, what is wrong with me today?

Outside the precinct, Dean memorizes (Y/N)’s address before pocketing it. “Quit pacing Sammy, we got an address, it’s fine.”

“Yeah, we know where there’s a connection, but the detective didn’t give us any clues on whether or not it’s supernatural.” Sam opens the Impala doors and awkwardly clambers in. “Maybe we would’ve if you didn’t scare (Y/N) off with your questions. You might as well have been screaming “hey do you think a ghost killed those lovebirds?’”

Dean starts the engine and the loud banging of a drum solo fills the car. Sam can barely hear Dean when he waves the address in his face and says triumphantly “And I wasn’t talking about the diner’s address; I just got the address of a cute cop who just invited me over for pie because I gave one compliment. What do you think I could get if I bought them a couple of drinks?"

"A restraining order," Sam mutters as the car takes off.

The break room in your precinct had been transformed in the last few hours into a mess of loose papers and gruesome pictures connected by thread beautiful mind style. The cuff of your shirt was indefinitely stained with dry erase marker from the frustrated wiping blank of the whiteboard every time a lead didn’t pan out.

You took a swig of room temperature coffee as you reread the ME’s report but the words seemed to have lost all meaning in the 2AM stupor you were currently swimming in. You absent-mindedly run your hands over the puckered line on your skin where your soulmate’s gash had been patched up in your stress and sigh deeply.

“What are you still doing here?” One of the night shift detectives asked, poking their head through the crack in the breakroom door “Go home, you look like a mess- and so does your workspace.”

“Thanks, Nosellla.” You snap, picking your way across the cluttered room to shut the door and other distractions out.

Nosella wasn’t wrong though; you had bitten your nailbeds into raw oblivion and had to band-aid a few fingers. Your hair stuck up at the front and became an impenetrable net at the back from all the times you had run fingers through it and you didn’t even need a mirror to know that you had some killer bags under your bloodshot eyes.

Between your soulmate’s antics and this impossible case, you would be lucky to have gotten twelve hours of sleep in the last week. Maybe it was the stress or sleep deprivation or just delusions in general but you rolled up your sleeve and stood by the sink with a washable marker.

When you were a kid, you and your soulmate would hold little conversations by writing messages on your arm for the other to see and washing it off to leave room for a response.

You wouldn’t be surprised if you were called in to do a psych eval tomorrow for leaning over a running sink with a red marked poised against your forearm. The mess around you must not help your case either but what the hell-you were desperate. The paranoia sent you down a spiral of wondering if your soulmate- one of the only sure things in your life right now- was out there and alive. He had stopped responding when the beatings started getting really bad and you hadn’t “talked” in decades.

“Hey guess who?” you scribbled and instantly dunked your arm under the water like one would toss away a phone after sending a risqué text.

“I was starting to think that you’d disappeared until it felt like someone was trying to rip off my fingernails today. Are you okay?”

Your heart soared and you let out a breath you’ve been holding since the marker first touched your skin.

You washed off his black ink and wrote in place: “I’m fine, just stressed. Since I have you “talking” I have a question for you actually.”

"Shoot," He wrote

“I know you wouldn’t tell me when we were kids because you said it was dangerous but we’ve both gotta be adults now, right? I mean you wouldn’t even want to get close to me as we grew up because apparently any connection at all could be dangerous. I kinda want to know who on earth my soulmate is yknow. All I know is that you’re an adult male who has a habit of getting the shit beat out of them. I want to meet you one day, hopefully soon?”

It takes him much longer to respond this time and the letters appear haltingly, without the usual ‘no looking back’ penmanship that you were used to. “Listen meeting my soulmate sounds great but look at the hell I’m putting you through without even meeting you. I could never put you through what I have to do every day and people who I talk to have a habit of getting hurt.”

Your heart clenches for him but you must resist the urge to roll your eyes. “I already go through everything you go through if that hasn’t toughened me up then my job certainly has. If what you go through is hell than what kind of soulmate am I to just stand here and live in blissful ignorance?”

You can feel that he’s pressing the pen harder into his skin as he rushes to finish his statement in his annoyance “It’s complicated, what do you think this is a fairy tale? You can’t just rush into my life like a knight in shining armour and expect to come out in one piece.”

Your phone pings and you check it one-handed as you run your other arm under the tap. The stakeout crew that you had stationed by Vicci’s with Tasha had just texted you about a suspicious car that had parked across the street behind the diner but stayed stationary with the engine idling and no one entering or exiting.

“Haha, yes!!” You exclaim out loud at the news of a concrete lead and possible suspects.

You quickly text the team to take photo evidence but not to engage until you got there and end the unfulfilling conversation with your still nameless soulmate: “I’m still here aren’t I? Trust me when I say I do have field experience with getting near-fatal injuries. Speaking of my job, duty calls but please consider trusting me. We are soulmates and I’d hate for you to actually die one day without me even knowing your name.”

“Who said anything about me dying?”

“Call it gut instinct.”

Under a shadowed overpass you tap on the window of the stakeout car and it whirs down to reveal Tasha’s always grinning face. “You took long enough, (Y/N).” She whispers.

“Sorry.” You apologize glancing around for eavesdroppers before continuing: “ So what’s the deal?”

“Well, they know what they’re doing.” Tasha says with an edge to her whispers “They parked somewhere dark so we couldn’t really get their profiles or see what kind of guns they pulled out of their trunk. But it looked like this wasn’t their first time going into a dinner heavily armed.”

“Good to know.” You say, eyeing the suddenly sinister diner “Tasha vest on and with me. We’ll go in and split up and you two be ready to call for backup on my call.” You order the team in the car.

You slip on the familiar weight of your Kevlar vest and draw your firearm. Tasha grins at you and gives you a manicured thumbs up and you smile tensely and nod.

This could be the day you make the biggest break of your career, but despite this, you think back to your soulmate. You think of the hell he refuses to put you through, wherever he is right now, while you’re hunting down a pair of potential serial killers, and you change your mind. This could be the day you prove to your soulmate that you have the balls to walk through hell with him.

It’s now or never; You quietly push aside the yellow tape barring off the retro diner door and step into the dark reception area. You almost gasp when your eyes adjust to the dark and see an enormous silhouette no more than a few feet from the nearest booth. You barely have time to load your gun when:

“SAM DOWN!”

A click, a flash and a bang and you’re blown off your feet as the shot hits you square in the chest.

#supernatural #fanfiction #spn #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfiction #snp fanfic #supernatrual fanfic #x reader fanfic #dean x reader #dean x reader soulmate AU #soulmate AU #dean x cop! reader #angst #fluff #whump #dean x reader fluff #supernatrual series #dean x gender neutral reader

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fmstevie · 4 years

Text

* ╰ waddup y’all ruby’s back 2 annoy u all w a lil british fuckboi action . here’s stevie , inspired by matty healy n thinkin she’s a god among men . i don’t recommend u read on but in case u do i pray u forgive me enough 2 want plots w that like button . 🤡

new york’s very own 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐄 ‘ 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐘 ’ 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐄 was spotted on broadway street in doc marten smooth leather chelsea boots . your resemblance to diana silvers is unreal . according to tmz , you just had your twenty - second birthday bash . while living in nyc , you’ve been labeled as being 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐬 , but also 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐞 . i guess being a cancer explains that . 3 things that would paint a better picture of you would be erudite inclinations informed by a god complex , melodrama as your magnum opus , & the world’s most secretive love life . ( i had a secret marriage that lasted 6 months but ended due to my fear of my family’s mafia ties getting in the way . ) & ( cis female & she / her )

𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆 : stephanie charlotte greystone 𝒏𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔 : primarily stevie , although her stage name is ‘ grey ‘ which has caught on as a go-to nickname . takes little to nothing else wilingly 𝒂𝒈𝒆 : twenty - two 𝒛𝒐𝒅𝒊𝒂𝒄 : cancer 𝒐𝒄𝒄𝒖𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 : professional musician with a voiceclaim of lorde , on temporary hiatus to write grey3 . casual photographer 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒚 / 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒔 : cis female / she her hers 𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 : pansexual w strong female pref but tbh if u can handle her energy she’ll b down WKERWJER 𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 : 5’10 🤤 𝒍𝒂𝒃𝒆𝒍𝒔 : the hedonist , the aesthete , the opaque , the vainglorious , the prodigy , the intangible concept 𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒑𝒐𝒔 : rhiannon - fleetwood mac / WHAT U CALL THAT - chase atlantic / iceberg - borns / UGH - the 1975 / boss bitch - doja cat / elephant - tame impala / black hole sun - soundgarden / black madonna - cage the elephant / this charming man - the smiths / swim - chase atlantic / 1999 WILDFIRE - brockhampton

tw drug mention

𝒊. 𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏.

there is perhaps no more a formidable surname in the organized crime circuit in all of europe than greystone , a name risen to fame through countless court cases and highly publicized trials . dubbed ‘ el chapo of the old world , ‘ liam greystone makes his reputation known as a ruthless and conniving leader of a million dollar cartel business , distributing to most of the UK and eastern europe . it’s perhaps an even greater shock to find even as public enemy #1 , he takes a welsh wife by the name of marissa and weds her in a lavish and very public ceremony , surmounting crowds not unlike those of the royal weddings . such a decision is a clear power move on his part , flexing the pure influence it would require to have such a public family life with no fear of repercussion from rivals or enemies .

it’s several months following their wedding that james is born , with nicholas taking a few years after . elite prep schools in the most posh london neighborhoods were abuzz with equal parts curiosity and concern to be sharing streets with the most feared mafia family in their whole country , though the elite nature of liam’s new societal presence meant he took to his ‘ dealings ‘ with a but more subtlety than before his rise to power . something of a media frenzy , it’s the talk of the town when marissa falls pregnant another time , nearly a decade after nicholas’s birth , this time with a baby girl , something that’s all the sun and mirror can seem to post about in their celebrity tabloids section for weeks on end . her birth raises questions of immense speculation : what will the world do with a greystone girl ?

as it would result , they’d worship her . stevie found herself raised in a world that sought her out at every turn , cameras pointed towards her at every outing . james and nick , now teens by the time she enters primary and just as big of terrors as their father , view their lavish lifestyle as the result of some bigger destiny for greatness , as their father had always fed to them , something they passed on to their baby sister who took it as her mantra . one of the earliest manifestations of a rather intense personality , stevie takes this to an extreme , turning her unwanted stardom into a fuel for an ever-increasing god complex to develop . the apple of her father’s eye and every bit as quick , her instructors note a dedication to perfection and an obsession with accomplishment , along with a natural intelligence that leads her to blast through her studies with relative ease .

she’s just 16 when she completes her schooling and already has a reputation that will precede her , just as her surname had before . relaxed and observant , her voice never peaks higher than a low alto with her charming londoner drawl , a facade never cracking from her knowing poker face . there’s something about being so above everyone ( even if it is a self-imposed superiority ) that leads stevie all but to the brink of isolation , finding solace only in the words of a self-deluded father and her own scribings in a leather bound notebook . piano lessons since early childhood lend themselves to melodies following melodies , and before she’s even able to legally drink , she’s released her first album under the moniker ‘ grey ’ titling it pure heroine as a cheeky nod to the inevitable accusations of it being her family ties that got her a record deal . but as streams of the melancholy tunes begin to pick up fans worldwide , the album’s themes of isolation , abandonment , and wasted youth hit harder than�� ever anticipated from the youngest greystone . she leaves home to tour the world with the album reaching #1 in countless countries , forging her own path with a maturity beyond her years and a vision beyond this world .

the tour ends and she’s smitten by the charm of new york , opting to move to continue to pursue her music away from the tangled complications of family life in england . barely 18 and perhaps intoxicated with the loneliness of a life spent in the watching eye of others , the semblance of privacy is something she takes to like an addict , exasperating prying paparazzi with her notorious refusal to comment on details of her personal life . she builds a wall between herself and the world , keeping out prying eyes with a tight - lipped grin . its at this time that she lets the first person into her life perhaps ever , a whirlwind romance so intoxicating it results in a courthouse marriage done in secret . never to be seen together , never a word spoken to anyone else , stevie relishes in the secret which is soon to sour upon the passing of their honeymoon phase . with her brothers expanding their reach into the US for their unsavory dealings , it’s not long after her marriage begins that the conflicts reach a breaking point , an annulment following barely 6 months after they had traded ‘ i do’s . ’

she takes to the studio with a new resentment of the concept of love and even more sequestered heart , producing melodrama which takes the world by storm , snagging her a grammy win for album of the year . fatigued from the constant go-around of keeping her secrets her own except for when they’re taken to radio streams , she does a limited tour for melodrama and lands herself right back in new york at 20 , putting grey3 on the backburner as she takes to all the hedonistic engagements she had indulged herself in during her time on tour . she’s kept herself busy between mindless flings and days-long benders with hobbies such as photography and writing , the former of which is building her a rather impressive reputation in the arts world .

𝒊𝒊. 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 .

if y’all ain’t tired of me yet god bless u . .. . bc i straight up b tired of myself :/

anyways dis is stevie , also accepts grey the same way ppl talk abt lorde n switch between ella n lorde ! she’s not picky :~)

major inspos are matty healy from the 1975 n hayley kiyoko if she was less of a try hard . little bit of kristen stewart in there , big 2016 ruby rose energy n brie larson top me tomfoolery as well !

basically da fuckboi of ur dreams .. .. . lil devilish londoner who stays thinkin she’s the closest thing to a god on this green earth !

notably , she’s incredibly intelligent and profound , tends to take on a rather patronizing and condescending tone bc she straight up b thinkin she’s usually the smartest person in the room ( how annoying )

so laid back n observant , rlly has no need to raise her voice ever bc her arguments b runnin circles around ppl ! imagine the way harry styles talks low n slow n calculated. . . . . cameron from love is blind ,. .. . kristen stewart lowkey sometimes .. .. .. das grey . sexy ass alto monotone 🤤🤤

i dont wanna use chaotic bc she rlly isnt the WILDEST bitch but that god complex means she deadass thinks she can get away w what she wants n she usually does ? less of a chaotic evil n more like a neutral evil lmao she can follow rules just fine she jsut prefers whatever suits her better

on that note — OBSCENELY self obsessed . follows her own natural whims n impulses bc that’s just what appeals to her . is inclined to follow rules if she calculates itll work in her favor bc she also doesn’t like to look sloppy !

super secretive and OBSESSED w her presentation . every movement is calculated n she doesnt want anyone seeing a side of her that she hasn’t designated for them ! she doesn’t care what other ppl think but she DOES care abt what she sees herself doing n her vision . doesnt fit the vision ? will NOT happen in her book .

straight up a WHORRE lmao she likes 2 fill the void left by a lack of human connection w sexual intimacy n then is like nice imma have u leave now love LMAO . does not discriminate and is rlly inclined to follow any sexual impulse

this was implied but her relationships are super messy ? does the leonardo dicaprio thing where she will never fuckin discuss her love life in interviews or anything so ppl just gotta SPECULATE . she lets ppl post all they want abt her but she wont say a WORD abt them JWHEKJWH her socials r basically just abt her n her music we said SELFISH lads . she’s bad @ bein tied down n is probs polyamorous as it stands but im p sure she has cheated on every single person she has ever been with lmao

lowkey a shit friend most of the time lMAO she can b really unreliable bc u guys can have plans n then she takes someone home n misses yalls plans n then texts u 4 hours later after all ur missed calls n is like my bad bruv i got tied up AS IF THAT FIXES IT KWEJKWJEKWE

chain smoker n its nastie but lowkey sexy somehow :/ , will ONLY wear outfits that r equal parts thrifted n designer , always has her hands in her pockets n if her jacket has a hood its UP like a big ole homo , is rlly annoying bc shes good looking n KNOWS it so she uses it to her advantage , wants 2 get her motorcycle license , judges u based off the music u play in the car , judges u on everything tbh.

#wealthyhq:intro #* ╰ . 𝒔 . 𝒈𝒓𝒆𝒚𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒆 . › introduction .#sorry 4 dis trash hittin the dash 🥰#just COULD NOT wait n format any longer

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pleasuringmyprincess · 5 years

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Love Letter

I wrote the following In July, but decided not to share it at that time. it's now October. Circumstances change.

________________________________________________________________

I know this isn’t going to be easy for me, so please bear with me.

I’m looking for a new dom for my sub.

I’ve know Ren for six months or so, in a long distance relationship through circumstance rather than design. Circumstance being that I live in California, while she lives in England. This is not a full time LDR, work and family (I’m also from England) bring me to the UK regularly. So in the time we’ve known each other, I’ve travelled to England every 10-12 weeks, staying for 4-5 weeks each time, and I have two more trips scheduled for between now and the end of the year.

When I met Ren it was supposed to be just for play, but we found we had so much in common, so many shared interests outside in the real world, so much chemistry that a serious relationship quickly developed.

Ren isn’t just a delightful sub, she’s a wonderful mother to two lovely children, she’s fantastic company, intelligent, fun loving, really smart, caring, upbeat all the time, but... there’s always a but, and for Ren it’s a big one.

Let’s start by saying if there was ever someone who didn’t deserve the deck she was dealt it’s Ren. Over the last 6 years her self-esteem has been shattered by her prior partners, (I’ll say no more than that they have one way or another treated her badly) and as a consequence she has suffered from severe depression, has Generalized Anxiety Disorder, has self-harmed, and most recently has been diagnosed and is now being successfully treated for severe Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder (PMDD).

Pause a moment there - this is the same woman, the woman who has been shit on by the world is also the wonderful mother, the delightful, intelligent, fun loving, smart, caring woman. My unicorn.

Ren’s seen a few big changes recently, most significantly she finally was able to divorce her husband and move to a new home. Two big steps forward, but at a cost of greatly increased anxiety. Just after this she heard that she was losing her job - she’s highly skilled but works in a poorly paid profession and because of the need to care for her kids, can only work part time. And she’s just lost her dom. We’ll come back to that in a minute.

In a scene, Ren is delightful, absolutely exquisite. I couldn’t ask for more, it breaks my heart to think of letting her go. Outside of a scene though, she can be very hard work. It’s more a question of providing support and encouragement over discipline. I have lost count of the number of hours I’ve spent helping her through the pain she feels. When she’s particularly low, it can be 3-4 hours a day. That’s not a complaint, I’d do it all again in a heartbeat even now while I’m writing this. It’s just a sign of the level of commitment you need to make. And just so it’s clear, Ren knows she has these problems and spends a lot of time in self-care activities and while it helps, it’s not enough.

Ren’s a working single mum, on a budget, she’s already very disciplined, very ordered, but she still struggles with some things and I have not been as successful as I would have liked in helping her address these issues (although today she has just proved to me that she can do this unbidden when motivated). I’ve not got to the bottom of why this is, and frankly it’s not been a high priority for me. I’ve been focused on helping her improve her self-esteem, manage her anxiety and encourage her to seek treatment for her PMDD (yay me!). This has really been my primary goal. And while it’s too soon to be sure, it really looks like we have succeeded, her anxiety and PMDD are both under control now. She is far far stronger today than she was three months ago.

Unfortunately, helping her get treatment for PMDD may have been my downfall.

After six years in the wilderness Ren is becoming whole again, free from her past, independent, far stronger than she has been for many years. Strong enough to tell me that she wants to move on. Ren needs someone full time, I know this, we’ve discussed it at length, and I had already put plans in motion to return to live in England to be with her. Now Ren has told me that while I am returning to England, it's not soon enough for her - she doesn’t want to wait. She also has concerns about my marriage. I am divorcing, she knows this, but right now I am married, and my divorce is something that Ren does not want to feel responsible for - she’s not responsible, that ship sailed long ago, but she says she will still feel responsible, and that’s enough. And my age, I’m 14 years older than her, too old in her eyes for a long term commitment.

Now obviously I’m not too happy about this, we are/were amazingly good together and had I not worked so hard to help her through her problems I might not be in this position today. I do feel significantly responsible for Ren’s recent improvement. For giving her the support she needed; for helping her apply for jobs; for showing her that there was a man who would fight for her, accept her for who she is, respect her for it; for being the consistent and reliable dom she needed; and most significantly for getting her back to the doc and having her PMDD addressed.

This is where I get a little twisted - one of the side effects of the medication Ren is taking for PMDD is possible impaired judgement. And there's part of me that thinks, dumping your dom like this wasn't the wisest thing to do right now. So the treatment for PMDD that I helped her get, might possibly be responsible for Ren taking what I think is an ill-judged decision in deciding that she’d rather seek out her perfect Dom than accept this one with all his flaws. I’m not blind to the fact that there’s part of me that thinks ‘Hey, I did the hard work in putting her back together and it would be nice to enjoy some of the benefits’, OK, I fully realize that’s selfish of me, but it’s understandable, I’m a dom, not a saint. To be clear though, it's not the decision I have a problem with, it's the hurried way she approached it. But we serve at our sub’s pleasure, and so here we are.

As it is, and I’ve never shared this with anyone, not even Ren, until now. I made a promise to myself that I’d help her come what may. And if that means 'setting her free' and helping her find a dom who’s worthy of her, that’s what I’ll do.

And so I’m looking for a new dom for my sub.

If you think that you might possibly be able to be the dom Ren needs, I’d like to hear from you. Before you all shout, as you might have gathered, I hold Ren in very high regard, and I will not let her settle for anyone who isn’t good enough. And just to be clear, I’m not going away. Ren and I have every intention of remaining friends.

So can this be you?

Let’s see shall we.

You’ve got to accept that Ren is a rich multi-faceted human being. If you are looking for a fuck toy, stop here.

She’s looking for more than just a play partner. Listen to Lou Reid singing Perfect Day, if you can’t offer that, you can stop reading here. Married guys (like me), guys in poly, or any form of relationship with someone else, you can stop here, she wants exclusivity. Btw, if you’re separated, divorcing, or whatever, you’re still married, so you stop here too. You don’t drink sangria in the park with Ren, and then later when it gets dark go home to your wife (read the lyrics, it will make sense).

Age 40-50, no exceptions. You will be fit and healthy, height/weight proportional.

No diseases, you will provide current STI test results, and you will always use a condom.

It will help if you a pro-Remain, if not, you need to be able to offer a coherent argument against. Intelligence matters.

As a submissive, Ren has specific needs, and specific limits. She needs pain, she needs to be spanked, mild to moderate use of a riding crop and paddle is OK, but not severe caning. She needs bondage both for the restraint and the art. Obviously there are other things as well, but she can share that if you meet, and I’m sure there are things that we’ve not tried that she will enjoy. She has limits and you will respect them. You will not humiliate her in any way, not even name calling. Not in play, not as punishment. There are other things you will not do, obviously, and again she can share them if you meet.

You must be an experienced Dom, having a fetlife account or a tumblr blog doesn’t count. You will meet me first. You will provide government photo ID, and references, and I will follow up on references in person.

Ren needs a Dom who is close by, someone who can see her 2-3 times a week without fail and who will remain in close contact when apart. Long distance relationships don’t work for her (ask me how I know), she needs to know you are close by, which means you must be within daily driving distance. No, she will not relocate. She has joint custody of her kids with her ex and that’s not going to change.

You’ve got to accept that she is not at your beck and call. She’s a mother, her kids come first and always will. You don’t even rate second place; like I said, she has a very demanding self-care program that takes a lot of her time, that comes next. She also has a cat. You might aspire to a position above the cat in her hierarchy, but I wouldn’t count on it.

________________________________________________________________

Don't take this as anything other than a mile marker down a road already travelled.

Applications are not currently being accepted.

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turingtestr · 4 years

Text

mobile post of all my information for the anon who wanted a mobile rules / bio. i could make a google docs but i’m burnt out. please also note, i haven’t even GLANCED at my bio i wrote for elijah since 2018, so uh... i should probably do that. sorry if it’s bad.

ONE. due to the nature of my roleplaying style, there will absolutely be mature themes here and there on this blog. all and any mature themes that involve sexual topics of the nsfw variety will only be written with muses that are 18+. as for those people that are 18+ that follow me, i fully understand if you do not want to write any nsfw content, and if any threads lead to that we can fade to black. just ask me, i’m fairly easy going and more than happy to make people feel welcome. it is not a requirement to rp nsfw content with me and i will never force anyone to do that. !

TWO. this is a selective/private blog. i really only roleplay with mutuals, however you’re more than welcome to reply to any of my open starters if i specify that you can but just know i might not reply because i (1) don’t know your muse, (2) have zero muse for the reply and will get to it later, (3) have no interest in the thread, or (4) am uncomfortable with something on your blog. roleplaying is also a HOBBY for me. i work full time and sometimes i genuinely cannot reply fast. if you hassle me to reply to things, i will not want to roleplay with you and it will turn me off from roleplaying with you completely. in fact, if you harrass me to reply to threads, i will automatically unfollow you because i’m not about that life of being pushed to reply to things. if you spam my follow button to try and get my attention, that will result in a soft block on your behalf. please don’t test my patience. if you do not have your ooc name on your page i will not follow you, due to me thinking hiding your ooc alias is shady and sketchy af.

THREE. i love shipping and i love roleplaying so much. this is not a single ship blog and none of the ships i portray are at the same time (unless further discussed with muns, of course).MY PRIMARY CHLOE SHIPPING PARTNER IS @TURINGTESTEE, which means that if kamski mentions chloe in a verse, he's most likely talking about this chloe. if there are any verses that kamski is going to have one single ship, i will make sure to let people know that in the verse description section once i make it. otherwise, my muse is a free for all. if i do have mains, which will be listed, they are just the people i will reply to the most, however, i won't actually limit myself to only roleplaying with them and i hope my mains respect and are comfortable with that.

FOUR. tagging triggers is something that means a lot to me as i am not comfortable with NEEDLES OR PUPPETS on my dashboard so i blacklist needles tw and puppets tw. i know it’s weird but hey, we all have our things. please let me know if you need anything tagged- even if i don’t personally follow you. you deserve a clean and safe dashboard to roleplay in. WARNING.

FIVE.anon hate will be deleted on the spot. no exceptions. i don’t care about your petty feelings and i won’t tolerate them in the slightest. i’m not here to entertain horrible people’s opinions of myself. constructive criticisms are allowed, but at the respect of myself reblogging a meme asking for it specifically.

SIX. mutuals are allowed to ask for my wire or discord, since i use both and would love to rp on both. i also play dead by daylight on ps4, so if you’d be down to game as well, feel free to hit me up there too! overwatch on ps4 is ITSGEOFFREY so you can add me there too.

SEVEN. i very rarely will send in passwords, as i do not require it and i should not have to be tested on your blog to be allowed to roleplay with someone. usually if you have a password, i genuinely just didn’t think to look for it and i apologize if this upsets you but you probably won’t see any from me.

EIGHT. please take into consideration while dealing with kamski that he has high signs of NPD & a huge god complex.

-----

BIOGRAPHY

NAME: Elijah Dean Kamski ALIASES: Eli, Lij, Boss, Kamski GENDER: Male AFFILIATION: Cyberlife Technologies, currently retired AGE: 36

THE START

there's many days where the kamski family would have a bit of struggles, as elijah grew up. he never knew much about his father, seeing as his father passed when he was a very young boy — no more than six. he'd never grown to know too much about him, and his mother didn't overly want to share about him, so it was safe to say the woman had a reason for not telling elijah and that was that.

growing up with a single mother who had severe epilepsy, elijah tried his very hardest to make his mother's life as easy as possible. school days would be very short considering he'd go straight home from school in order to watch after his mother. some days with his mother, depending on the medication the doctors had recommended her, would be better than others. she always appreciated her son's committment to being with her and he was determined to make life easy on the two of them. using the money she got from the state, she'd try to urge her son go into extra cirricular activiies he wanted to do, however he only dismissed the ideas, claiming that he'd rather be home. he'd use the money to spend on textbooks, wanting to develop his own version of a Vagus nerve stimulation device. one that would make sure to surge with electrical pulses before his mother even remotely had to move herself to activate the device. computer engineering was his goal, and he'd stop at nothing to get through that.

as life continued on, elijah continued to shove his head into books and continuously study. he pushed through high school faster than anyone had expected, at age ELEVEN he had shown his studies to multipile colleges, showing his theories on how to better create medical devices.

THE CHANGE

the university of colbridge had been a struggle for elijah, being the youngest student there. studying medical engineering was easy, and he had decided to double major in computer engineering as well, to perhaps attempt to integrate the two. though school was difficult, the hardest part was being away from his mother. the school had refused to let him travel back and forth, saying that freshmen had to stay on campus as apart of regulations and requirements from the state. when he started college, his mother had decidded upon asking the state for a caregiver- on the off chance that something did happen. with the VNS that was already implanted in her, she was able to have a job during the day, but the caretaker was supposed to just oversee her during the nights. it settled eli's anxiety about his mother a little bit. four months into his freshman year, eli had woken up to a call from the san antonio police, letting him know that his mother had been rushed to the hospital after having a grand mal seizure and hitting her head on their marble counters. apparently the caretaker assigned to look after his mother hadn't even shown up that night. he quickly rushed home, terrified what had happened.

something, however that night had turned elijah into a bitter person. into someone against humanity. though his mother had survived the seizure, things weren't the same for either of them. after knowing his mother's caretaker had ABANDONED her, elijah had fully decided to go more into engineering to create a way for humans to be more reliable. what was more reliable than humanity? MACHINES. something that would always obey. obedient machines that had a purpose and a task and would see it through. dropping fully out of medical engineering, elijah settled for computer science and engeineering instead. the utter drive to create a better human than humans themselves was so strong that by the age sixteen, elijah had worked together with a team of classmates to create the first medical assistant androids. REVOLUTIONARY KICKSTARTER model 100, or RK for short. RK100 was born and tested on his mother, who seeemed quite uneasy, but only wanted to support her son.

ENTER CYBERLIFE

though it wasn't perfect, the ark series took off. mainly piquing interest in san diego, california. the backbones of the mega-billion dollar company that would be founded by elijah kamski and his cohorts suddenly had at least three hundred backers trying to support the small business after seeing what a success the RK100 was at being not only a companion for his mother, but also how helpful the RK was at it's job. the medical caretakers were able to do so much, and suddenly with the money that was being thrown at the group, elijah became more than enthused with power. hungry for it, almost.

making more medical related androids were being highly requested, and the team set out to create diffrent functions for androids, trying to perfect everything.

taking into consideration his mother — his finest mentor and most trusted support, and what she thought of the androids, he sought out to consult with his old AI professor, Amanda Stern, on how to make the androids a bit more lifelike. It was hard, at least for what his mother admitted, for a human to trust a machine that looked like a machine to help themselves out through life. upon her advice, eli threw himself into work, the team of cyberlife growing into a business, and then a wide scale company alongside elijah's work. no matter what, the man was the front of the company, having done the majority of the coding and research in what brought the androids to life. the company sought after targeting the cheapest land developments in the united states in order to make their headquarters and warehouses, bringing CYBERLIFE to DETROIT, MICHIGAN where it currently resides.

it takes kamski four years after founding cyberlife to come out with a brand new appearance for his androids. something human like after struggling and struggling to engineer the perfect components to theorize biological functions. this equiptment created became biocompotenents, but it still wasn't enough to make thes he was creating look HUMAN. but after all the struggles and finally figuring out a way to regulate something akin to blood into the android's system, elijah kamski in the year 2022 releases the RT REVOLUTIONARY TURING model; a personal assistant to elijah kamski that uses the alias ' CHLOE '. Cyberlife has been thurst into the spotlight and once again Elijah Kamski realizes that these advancements in the world have honestly made people envious. the public demands the rights to these androids and while he still is bitter over humanity and the lack of reliabilty that humans provide for the world, he obliges. Cyberlife goes public with their androids and the public are now able to put a price tag on androids.

THE REVOLUTION

the world that assumes elijah kamski is nothing but a greedy, power-hungry boss of a CEO for cyberlife overlooks one important fact: he still wants revenge on the world. his mother passes on at the age 43, a few years before his greatest mentor amanda stern passes. the loss of both role models awakens a vengeful force in elijah kamski. one that wants to remind the world that mortality is relevant for all. cyberlife has created over thousands of models, all for different functions and he looks upon his kingdom with hopeful eyes as well as bitterness. humanity has become less reliant. they've become lazier. androids have become the working force, for the most part, and while elijah sees that as a positive note because it is moving forward away from the laziness and unreliability of humanity — the CEO is fully aware that his androids are becoming more and more human like the more and more they develop. the deviant base code is never once touched. always overlooked by cyberlife developers who dare not touch the work of the first working android made by elijah kamski himself. while he's aware he, himself, is mortal just like the rest of humanity, seeing his creations become sentient, to rise up against the laziness and unreliable humanity that he lives among has been his goal. he just awaits the REVOLUTIONARY KICKSTARTER 200 to actually get pushed to the brink of going through his code.

now it's just a game of waiting to see who pushes who, and who comes up on top. it's always a delight to play god.

THE SIBLING ALTERNATE UNIVERSE

i'm not going to be writing a brand new biography for the gavin / elijah brothers universe, but i need to work out how they can be related with my current bio, or i might just go off of a gavin's biography. shrug emote.

#〉 your save file has become corrupted. / OUT OF CHARACTER

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