Archive for the ‘Generation 1’ Category

The Liebster Award

Posted: May 18, 2015 in Generation 1

Guys, guys, we did a thing!


Logging in this morning, I got a wonderful comment from blamsart telling me that they had nominated me for this award! Eeeeep! I don’t think I’ve ever been nominated for anything before, much less anything with a fancy name like this before! *Flails excitedly*

Anyway, in case you didn’t know like me, the Liebster Award, is an award given to bloggers by other bloggers who love their work. It also acts as a chain award that helps blogs with less than 3000 subscribers get more publicity.

These are the official rules for receiving this award:

  1. Post the award on your blog.
  2. Thank the blogger who presented the award and link back to their blog.
  3. Nominate 5-11 bloggers whom you feel deserve this award and have fewer than or equal to 3,000 followers.
  4. Answer 11 questions posted by the nominator, and ask your nominees 11 questions.

My nominees are…. *drum roll*
*I really am surprised these guys don’t all have like a gazzillion followers already*

A Stormborn legacy by undergroundedgar

Firstly, I absolutely adore this legacy, and the author! The legacy follows the Stormborn family, and the subsequent heiress’, in a drama filled world of romance, magic, and danger. What I love about this legacy in particular is that it features some unique ideas and takes on the witch and legacy genre. It’s just… Go and check it out 🙂

My Darling by mosneakers

Beyond the amazing storyline in this bring me to life challenge, I’m absolutely, positively jealous of the photography and scene setting skills. Take one look at the photos and you will understand. Despite the world being full of magic, and ghosts, Mosneakers makes everything that you see, and read seem perfectly natural.

The Suitor by Becki

A historical story, brilliantly showing the difference between class divisions, the price of love, and the choices that we make. I only have positives to say about this story, the photos are wonderful, the scenes must take aaaggggeeesss to get exactly right, including the outfits and poses, and the writing is beautiful too. I can so see this story played out as a movie, or a TV show.

Lost In Wonderland by Thelyricsofhaley

So I’ve been following this rainbowcy since like the beginning, and I’ve loved it since the start. The author is wonderful, and despite going through a few changes over the years, the writing continues to get better with every chapter, and the characters are just as wonderful. Go down the rabbithole and check it out!!

The Danevbie Legacy by sErindeppity

Okay, so this one has probably been done a whole bunch of times already, but somehow I feel like it deserves another mention. This blogs has everything in it, aliens, magic, the supernatural, ghosts, and sErin somehow manages to tie it all together with realistic family ties, romances and the brilliant portrayal of characters behavior/dialogue (that feels relevant to not only their personalities, but also their ages). And despite being incredibly popular, the author still has time to respond to fan messages, and comments.


Now onto the questions…

1. Do you pull from your personal life experiences when writing out your story?

I feel like every generation and heir has a piece of me, and what I’m going through in each and every story. I feel like I choose a part of my own personality, and a dreams/objective/goal for each generation to make a story out of. With a bit of artistic liberty to shape the world and make it interesting. Elizabeth wanted to run away and start a brilliant, new life. Constance wanted something from a fairy tale to shake up her life and make it whole again. Aleksi wanted what he couldn’t have. Vivian felt that she lacked in control in a toxic relationship, and Larka is the outcome.  Never to the extent of my sims, of course, I am pretty cruel to them, but I can work off of the feelings that I have felt and use it to fuel the writing.

Obviously I’ve never met a vampire, or kissed one, or been tied up by one, but hey, a girl can dream…
Or write.

2. If you answered yes to #1 can you gives us an example? If you answered no this is the place to insert the funniest gif you have.

So I sorta answered it already, but it’s a Monday

3. Who is your favorite among all the characters you have written?

Out of my heirs, probably Larka, because I feel like I can relate to her the most, she drinks to much, is tough and angsty on the outside, but lets face it, we all know she’s a total softie on the inside.
Out of all the characters, probably Balt.

4. Oh boy! You suddenly meet this character! What happens?

Hug the sad out of them, and then apologize profusely for being such a mean writer. And then maybe hug Balt a few more times.

5. Sims 3 suddenly has a global malfunction and dies on every single computer and will never work again, would you still continue writing your story only without pictures?

I think I would, just because I totally want to know how the story is going to play out (I really don’t plan anything out well enough, I’m curious too!), and writing has become cathartic to me. Cheaper than therapy :p

6. Are you the type who can totally write your sims story with a bunch of people looking? Or do you need to wait for everyone to leave the room before you can get comfy and write your sims?

No, I’d get to flustered, I can’t write with anyone looking at me. I become a ninja, everyone needs to leave the room, or better yet, the house, or I’ll be writing in my room at midnight when everyone is in bed.

7. Do you own a cat? This is a serious question. I swear 90% of sims 3 writers own a cat.

I have been called a crazy cat lady just a few times (more like a thousand times)


As you can tell these two guys are insanely helpful, and supportive.


*Fights the urge to share all 1000+ photos of my cats and stories*

8. Your thoughts on sims 4? You may cuss as much as you like.

*Pterodactyl screech* Up until sims 4, I feel like each game has been a logical step forward with the franchise. Sims 1, great game, I was a little too young to really be able to enjoy the game when it came out. I always just made a bunch of sims, and crappy houses, kissed everyone in the neighbourhood, and then set them all on fire. Sims 2, better graphics, interactions, neighborhoods. We got the new life states, toddlers, and kids and stuff. People died. I loved the expansions. Then the sims 3, the graphics were slightly better, open world (this feature was mind blowing to me when it first came out), the patterns/create a style (YES PLEASE), these were the two things I desperately wanted in sims 2, and we got them. Sure the game felt a bit empty, but these two features made me feel more connected to my game.

Then the sims 4, one word, why?!?!?! I feel like with all the people saying how much they loved the sims 2, they tried to recreate it, but somehow still made a worse game than we’ve ever had. If they had of included the best features of all the games (Gameplay of sims 2, customization/open world of sims 3, a bit of challenge like in the first game), on a stable game engine, it could have been perfect.

Now because it is so bad, I doubt we’ll get a better, improved sims 5 :/

9. Are you planning on continuing with sims 3 once you’re done with your current story?

If i ever finish this story, which I hope I do, I’d like to keep playing, maybe write another story.

10. Favorite expansion? In amazing detail plz.

I really loved generations, I felt like it rounded up the game and made it feel more whole. Although, it did include the stuff the I felt should have already been in the base game. The interactions, and overall theme, should have already been IN the game, so it can’t really be my favourite… Since it already should have been there.

So maybe Seasons, just because the rain and clouds make the game feel natural and real. I hate the snow though, just because my sims take like three hours to get changed, or they just sit outside and wait for Grim to come and get them, like they have nothing better to do in the house that is probably worth over a million with everything they could possibly want or need inside of it *rolls eyes*

11. Last question! How would you like living in the sims world and being a sim yourself?


Yup, moving on…



Now my questions for my nominees, if they choose to participate.

  1. How do you feel that your personality comes across in your writing?
  2. Do you have a routine or anything special that you do for when you write?
  3. Where do you get your inspiration for your stories?
  4. If you get writers block, how do you deal with it?
  5. Is your writing something that you share with people close to you?
  6. If you could recreate the sims 4 base game, what features would you include or change (graphics, seasons, open world, rating etc)?
  7. If you had to choose five sims traits to describe yourself, what would they be?
  8. What is your favourite book, and why?
  9. What’s your favourite quote?
  10. What movie gives you the most feels?
  11. What is a dream of yours?

Sweat drips down my back, and forms a thin sheath across my pale skin. I take a deep breath, ignoring the aching in my ears, and head, the blood beginning to trickle from my nose. My tired heart skips a beat as I sink down onto the floor, cutting my delicate upturned palm, and wiping the blood onto the floor.


The circle is wobbly, and hesitant, and the lines inside not nearly straight enough, but I pull away with a defiant stare. I begin to mumble under my breath, struggling to hold onto the words and their meanings. Exhaustedly, I wring the blood out, covering the surface of my hand, and lay a distinct print into the middle of the circle.

“Azazel.” I breathe out weakly, opening my eyes up to the flickering image inside. The coldness of its presence causes goosebumps to rise on my skin, and a chill to run down the length of my spine.

“You’re getting stronger.” His voice is distant. Not in miles, but empathy. A strange laugh touches my lips, as I slump down, breathing heavily against the force of the spell. I’d been home for three weeks, and was still healing the broken bones my dealings with the vampires had left me. Being human meant I healed slower, but the fringes between the two worlds was much weaker than before. Although, it hurt a lot more, or perhaps, my Lycan blood had been able to heal the damage as quickly as I was causing it.

5.22 (2)

I peal my eyes open, watching the dead vampire with a sudden hesitation. Of course, if thought as far ahead as summoning him here, reading all the books, studying the spells, memorising the words. But what I planned to do with him now was beyond me. I had questions of course, a thousand and one questions I wanted to ask the old, and very much a ghost, Azazel.

I stand, keeping my gaze fixed on his calm, apathetic expression. Where to start? What to ask? Weakness was not something that I could show him, or hesitation, or ignorance. Azazel was old, like real old, millennium old, and then some. Calculating, possibly willfull, and he’d lived in the age of necromancers. Good ones. Ones that could have easily taken him down. It was a lot of pressure to say the lest.

“Azazel Dragomir-” I say slowly, letting his name roll off of my tongue, but all to quickly, he snorts, rolling his pale eyes to the back of his head. “I want you to tell me about Arkin, and the Corvinus-“

“No.” He states simply, blinking at me through boredom, and insolence.

5.22 (4)

“No isn’t the answer I’m looking for.” I reply, focusing on keeping my voice contained, and his image clear, and strong. “When did take over as his handler…? Was it before or after the death of his mate..?” Silence. “Listen here, I ask the question, and you answer it.”

“Why, exactly?” Azazel asks, his voice smooth and calm. His accent sounded like a land from a different time. Old, even if he knew the modern phrases, and patterns, he still couldn’t shake that off. “You plan to kill Arkin, if, big if, then what? Kill the other pure bloods?  Because as of right now, the war is the only thing stopping the human eradication of you mutts. And your the only thing stopping theirs.”

“I only want Arkin.” I grit my teeth, watching his reaction carefully. When I had summoned him in the fight against his brother, I’d tied a piece of him to myself, and had seen glimpse into his life, and death. He’d died begging for them to spare Asmodeus. Even now, it was a factor.

5.22 (3)

“Is Asmodeus not your enemy too? Is it not your job as a soldier, and as a necromancer, to kill him? As your enemy, I would think so.” His eyes cut into mine stubbornly as though he’d known my exact thoughts. I needed to kill Arkin, first and foremost. I had seen him, picked him out in my eternity as the one I needed to take down. Of course, Asmodeus was a threat, Jesus Christ of course he was, look at Appaloosa plains for proof. But it was different for Arkin. It was personal.

“He is.” I respond blankly, and once again, to the silence of the room. There had to be a way to make him speak, I walk weakly, bracing myself against the couch to scour the books again. Necromancers could control the dead, he was dead, and I was kind of, technically a necromancer. So in the realm of possibilities, it wasn’t a terrible one.

As I read, I asked him more questions, about his life, or maybe the history he had seen, hoping he would answer to something. To tell me anything, even if it was just the questions that nagged at my tired, all too mortal mind. And it would seem a real shame, if the only thing I learnt was what he looked like, and how resolute he was to prevent his brother’s death. Both of which I knew already.

The door knocks quietly, and I rush to get it as a distraction to my mounting frustrations. “Grandfather.” I say in a low tone of greeting, subtly brushing down the messy ends of my hair. Silently I wondered if my mother had sent him to check on me, or if he wanted to bring me another book, or tip.

5.22 (5)

“Larka, I’m glad that you’re looking better.” He smiles solemnly, and I can feel the darkness looming over him. There were shadows under his eyes, and his crimson hair was an even greater mess than usual. His wolf stood at his side, but didn’t follow him inside. My grandfather’s gazes slowly drifts towards the bloodied mess on my floor which I hadn’t thought to cover. “Experimenting?” He raises a brow at me curiously.

I focus the image of Azazel into my mind, almost burn it into the folds of my brain, and softly touch the skin on his wrist, projecting the image to him. His body tenses under the image of his enemy, even though it’s a dead one, and one trapped in a circle of blood, my grandfathers fear rose to the surface. For a moment, I could see the images of torture, and beatings.

“Can I ask him something?” For perhaps the first time, my grandfathers voice shows it’s real age. It’s tired, and full of faded memories that tore at the hard lines in his face. His green eyes stared through azazels manifested form, but somehow, he knew exactly where to look.

I turn my gaze, following my grandfathers to Azazel. His eyes too were fixed on his old rival. Pale, and even in death full of power. His head cocked to the side, but if he was thinking, his face did not show any trace of movement, or thought. After the silence has grown almost unbearable. He finally waves his arm, motioning silently to speak.

“Ask away.” I reply to my grandfather, but even though he hears my words, he doesn’t see me. I’m shocked, Azazel wouldn’t grace me with a single answer, but to a man he’d tortured he would.

5.22 (6)

“Why did you bring Raveena back to me, to that room?” My entire body tenses at the name of his mate. My grandmother. “There was hope in her. Even when there shouldn’t have been. And you condemned her to the sun.” His crimson hair drapes over his face as his stance crumples. His hand digs into the couch, fingers finding comfort in something hard, and real, and steady. “I would have been glad to die alone. For her. Her children.”

Slowly, and without thinking, my hand reaches out to him, softly touching his back. Of the few stories I had heard about her, and the few images I’d gleamed, she was beautiful, and powerful. And she didn’t deserve to die.

“Azazel.” My voice is low, and raspy, and my eyes cut like daggers. His smooth, flawless face was unchanging, and cold. “Speak. You said. You agreed.”

5.22 (7)

“I thought that she could wake my brother from his suicidal path.” If his face was detached, his voice was even further so. There was no trace of anything human, or empathetic, no emotion evident in the aged tone. “Perhaps if he could of had her, then he might of given up the ridiculous  idea of rebellion. But how he despised you, child of two worlds. You were on her skin, in the curves of her skin, she reeked of his hatred.”

How could I tell him that? That she was bait to appease the very hungry pure blood. Just a distraction that he was willing to gift. I didn’t know my grandmother, but I felt her in my veins. The desperate need, and aching will to fight, and survive. She was nothing to them, only a pawn for their purposes. But she had been someone. She was someone. A real person.

“I told her to leave, in fact I begged it of her.” I feel the tug in my stomach of guilt, and remorse when his voice continues unexpectantly. “But she wouldn’t leave her mate, wouldn’t leave you, and i must confess, I hated her for it too. I had given her a chance to live, to see her children grow, to be, alive. I despised her for it, but she would have been glad to die for you too.”

“Well?” My grandfathers voice is almost a whisper. “Would he even answer?”

5.22 (8)

“He said that he thought she would be enough to prevent Asmodeus from starting the war. But when he figured out that was not the case, he told her to leave.” So I was paraphrasing it. Telling him what he needed to hear. But he needed it, he needed it badly. I wondered how many years he’d spent going over it in his head, blaming himself, and the council, blaming everyone. I squeeze his hand softly. “She wouldn’t leave you, she loved you to much.”

“Is that what I told you? How strange, those don’t sound like my-“

“Okay.” Grandfathers voice is hollow as he straightens himself up. I can’t tell if the words mean anything to him now, or if it’s too late. He begins to walk, stopping in front of the boundary line as if he knew, and stared straight through.

Azazel bared his fangs, growling quietly, and threateningly. It was hard to believe I was the only one who could hear such a terrifying sound. The only one who could see the way that Azazel displayed himself, as regal and fatal as the king of the jungle. But if I could detect anything in the old vampires stance, and growl, it must’ve been anger. And his growl seemed to rumble deep within the shackles keeping his presence here.

5.22 (9)

“I gave you thirty years, Aleksi.” Azazel’s voice was an odd mixture between inaudible growls and his cold, calm voice. I wasn’t sure what he was referring to, thirty years, when and for what purpose? “But the others will not be so kind, their time is up, and yours is running dangerously close to being over. And for what? What exactly did you accomplish?”

“Thirty years for what, Azazel?” I counted it in my throbbing head, doing the maths as fast as I could. How many years since the war had broken out, how many since he had died? How many in between? He wouldn’t speak, instead he let the allegation hang in the air, thickening the air in which I was breathing.

I turn my gaze to my grandfather, who’s face is placid – almost? He was thinking, but the anger, and grief was washed away, back to the cold place in his heart which would only thaw when he allowed himself to grieve. “For the first decades of the war, up until Azazel’s death, I wasn’t hunted and our men weren’t slaughtered by the hundreds. It was thirty years.”

“Are you close yet, I wonder.” Azazel’s voice had returned to the perfect smooth picture of apathy. “The humans won’t give you much more time.”

5.22 (10)

“He wants to know about the cure.” I speak dumbly. Hiding my surprise, or barely. My head ached with each word he spoke, and I could pull apart the reasons for his speaking. Blood drips slowly from my nose, and it turn quickly to wipe it away. I stare back weakly, and he nods in front of his ghostly enemy. Perhaps he understood better than I. He must.

“We start trials in the month.” His voice is distracted, and rightly so. He’s not here anymore. “It’s not a one off shot, it’s more… Therapy. I.. I have to go.” In his mind, he probably already had. “Ulrick will call for you in the weeks ahead in my place.” And then he was gone. “That’s what I came to tell you.”

Walking out the door sluggishly, the black wolf following him silently. His steps didn’t even make a sound. I thought I heard my ghost captive muttering “Goodbye fenris,” to himself. And I swore the beasts ear dipped in response. I wanted to question it, to question everything, but I couldn’t.

I had tied myself to Azazel and his spirit, his memories. I might not have been able to see them, or understand them, but I could feel it in the depths of my stomach, making it drop further than it already had. Suddenly, the physical injuries didn’t seem so bad, because at least they were rational, feasible. The physical also heals, you can see it, feel it, not like this.

“You’re nothing at all like your mother.” He states rather blankly as I cradle myself into the couch.

5.22 (11)

“You met her?” I ask, only partly interested. Even though he was the one making my nose bleed, and my head throb under his pressure, I couldn’t find it in myself to send his image away. I needed to hear someone talk, I needed someone to take me someplace else.

“She killed my progeny.” He replies without inflection. Vampires didn’t form what we mortals would consider stable, or normal relationships. Very few had friends, and even less understood the need. Three things were important to them, to the point of spilling blood. Their maker, progeny and their mate. Losing just one might drive one mad, and yet he didn’t seem at all phased. “She was a frightened rabbit the last time I spoke to her, locked in the darkness, enduring nothing but abuse from him. I sent her home.”

“You sent her to kill her father.” I reply weakly, on the verge of drifting off.

“Convenience. But I would have done it myself.” My mother had sobbed out pieces of the story before. She had been frightened then, and she was still frightened now. How could someone spend so many years afraid, and terrified?

He was right, we were nothing alike.
I was scared of nothing.

The door knocked loudly, and the dim lights from street lamps fluttered through my blinds. My head throb in response, and my eyes drifted over Azazel’s ghostly form. The blood seal had trapped his energy in the circle, but to hear him, to see him, feel his presence, it took power.

5.22 (12)

“What?” I groan loudly, pulling the door open to quickly, and the bones in my arm shudder in response. Cassiel stands in my doorway, eyes as dark as my grandfathers, and his very presence, the sun, dim, and dying by the second.

“You forgot.” It wasn’t a question. My face remains passive, as I pull the door forward a fraction, hoping to hide the blood on the floor. It wasn’t a reasonable thought, but I could smell it, and it’s poisoning me. “I was waiting. For you. We were going to have a drink.”

“I was busy.” I yawn, my voice has a slight edge to it. There was no point in having drinks. He was going to get killed, at this point, I couldn’t see a way to stop it. I hadn’t told anyone the vision that I’d had, in fact, since coming home, I’d devoted myself to saving them. Myself. All by myself. The question is his eyes flickers for the briefest second, but he doesn’t challenge me. “If that’s all, I really gotta run.”

“At this hour?” I glance at my watch, it was past midnight. God, was I really meant to meet him at this hour for a drink? No, with the trials coming up, even I wouldn’t have been as thoughtless. But he really wouldn’t have waited this long for me.

“Yeah a meeting.” I lie. I don’t know why. It’s becoming a bad habit. But I didn’t have time for him, not when I could still figure out how to stop Arkin. There’s no use making friends with ghosts, and at this moment, he was already dead. Even if there was something in him that made me want to just ride out the time we had left. “I’m actually running late. Sorry Casy boy, but I gotta run.”

5.22 (13)

He sighs, and I can see the frustration mounting in the dying suns of his eyes. I want to run, and be a thousand miles away from that tiny apartment, and from Azazel who was probably laughing at me by now. He follows me to the elevator, flickering between exhaustion, and anxiety. His hand briefly touched the crucifix around his neck, before his eyes meet mine again.

“You still think I’m a demon?” I break the forming silence, trying to lighten his mood. What would he think, with me holding the ghost of one of the most powerful pure bloods in my tiny apartment. It wasn’t a very human thing to be able to do.

“The worst kind.” He responds without as much as a smile.

“You start the trials this month?” I ask, and his eyes lock in on mine. From his reaction, he hadn’t seen my grandfather since he had left my apartment, and that sent a rush of nerves through my system. Cas was essentially his prized pupil, and Azazel had basically led my grandmother to her death. It really wasn’t the time for him to be reminded of those he’d lost already, unless of course he was already considering his own mortality.

“Mr Aleksi believes the quicker that we look like we’re getting results, things will calm down in the political sphere. If the results aren’t what we’re looking for, then I don’t know what we’re gonna do.” His shoulders tense, and I can feel the anger in him. It was worse than I’d thought. Even Azazel had hinted at this, and he’d been dead since before I was born. “I never thought I’d prefer working for a half demon than my own.”

5.22 (14)

“He’s a soldier too, don’t forget that.” I smile grimly at him, as we exit the elevator, and the cold air rushes to greet us. He returns the grin, but it’s just as sad and weak as my own. At least Arkin would kill them quick, humans though, they’d play for a while. Draw it out. Leak every single secret in their skin.

“I wish this war wasn’t happening. And I wasn’t in the middle of some power struggle between my humans and your soulless. I just wish I could take you out for a drink and this wouldn’t matter. And that you wouldn’t lie to me about being too busy, and you’d just let yourself be happy. For once.” His eyes meet mine almost guiltily, but passionately alight in the darkness.

“We all wish something, Cas.” I state impersonally, and he can tell. I desperately avoid his gaze, and I hope that he can’t tell the difference. Time was slipping through my anxious fingertips, lives were dripping into eternity, everything was moving too fast for me to act on. Even him. Painfully simple, painfully human Cas.

“Maybe one day all those dreams will come to pass.” His eyes focus on mine intently, stronger than I ever could have imagined. If I’d had ever thought a man might say such words, I’d have called him soft, and cowardly, weak, girly. But even fragile, and warm, Cas was none of those things.

5.22 (15)

“Take care, Cas.” I murmur softly, dragging my eyes off of his. Almost painfully the need to dance my lips across his, and feel the heat in his human heart drives through me. I want to taste the sun on his skin, and bathe in its graces. But even I know that it isn’t fair, to either of us.

There just wasn’t enough time left to save the ghosts of my future.

Walking exhaustedly along, I musta been looking for a way to forget about it all, because I found myself in front on Gabriel’s old apartment. The vampire might not live there anymore, and I’m sure he wouldn’t be willing to let me back inside, not after I almost killed him in my nightmares. The temptation to walk to that door and knock til he forgave me, and let me have just one taste of blood was powerful.

There just wasn’t time to play pretend anymore, because if I started, had just one drop, I wouldn’t care. I’d let them die.

5.22 (16)

So I force myself to walk, counting the similar steps back to my oldest friends instead. My oldest ghosts.


Posted: March 1, 2014 in Generation 1

Sorry guys for the sudden departure from the scene again. The internet has been down, and I’ve had nothing but dramas trying to get it either back up or a new one connected.

The new connection was supposed to be put through this coming week, but with moving houses that weekend, it’ll probably be another week before I can get online. Unfortunately the internet on my phone is dreadful too, so I haven’t even been able to read any of your lovely stories.

I’m super sorry though, I look forward to getting back online and catching up with everyone’s stories, and my own. I just don’t know when that’ll be :/

Guys I’m sorry.. Again!

Posted: January 17, 2014 in Generation 1

So you’ve probably guessed by the title that this is another delay of the chapters. I wish I had a good reason, I really do, but doubling writers block with world of warcraft is a terrible idea. Serial procrastinating, and brand new shiny achievements in the game to be unlocked/completed will be the death of me. And not in the fun, exciting way, but the way that they’re just there… Waiting… Needing to be done :p

Now I am thankful that the sims achievements are organised so badly, or I probably would have fried my laptop trying to finish them all. And I really don’t have the will to look them up. 

Anyway, enough of the crazy talk, I promise, pink promise even that I will get the chapter out over the next couple of days.

Chapter 5.5 – Bounty hunters

Posted: January 11, 2014 in Generation 1

I’d finally managed to do it. Escape the prison sentence that was living with my mother. She wasn’t that bad… If you considered getting sick a death sentence. Or being caught with a boy who you didn’t plan on spending the rest of your life resulting with a joyful lecture. Then no, she wasn’t that bad. But being eighteen, and living alone, in the very prime of my youth had some obvious advantages.

Chapter 5.5

My head lolls back on the sofa, the heavy scent of strong liqueur and smoke filling my nostrils, and I sigh a happy sigh. It was my apartment. Albeit, crappy, but it was my crappy apartment none the less. Amid the painstakingly burnt red tiles, and odd paneled floor boards, was a certain charm, even if you had to look a few times to see it. But the way I saw it, if I had my way, it wasn’t like I would be here that often anyway.

I had set my eyes on the mercenary core. They were the hired guns of our military, rented out by the humans to deal with the vampire problems in their neighbourhood. With so much action on the front line, a lot of rogue vamps often took the distraction to shack up in some unlucky town. Glorified bounty hunters, yet they, hopefully we, would be the bridge between us, and the humans. Anyone who could fight for those towns, was almost always missing, off fighting in the war, which made it almost too easy for a rogue to decimate them. And the last thing anyone wants in a bloody battlefield, is for their allies to have to return home… So that they might even have a home to return to.

As the door knocks, I call out lazily for them to let themselves inside. The walk was probably three steps away from where I had myself draped across the couch, but even then, the scent of my guest had greeted my nose, my captain, he didn’t share the same vampire blood as I, so it wasn’t like he needed permission to enter anyway. Sora might as well revel in the fact.

Chapter 5.5 (2)

“Sir, have you had a chance to look over my application?” My voice calls as he takes his place inside the small apartment. A deep seated amusement twinkling in his aging eyes. I wasn’t nervous by any means about my approval into the mercenary core, the skills I had honed and perfected over my years at the academy spoke volumes for me. Impatient might have been a better word to describe it all. “Captain?” My voice finds a harsh edge to it. “Well? Spit it out already.”

“Graduation is barely over, and you’re already knocking on my door, figuratively speaking of course.” Sora sighs, a finger tracing down the contours of his jaw. Scraping the fine hairs of stubble with a tired breath that lingered within his eyes. “Thought you would’ve at least given me a few days before you came headhunting though.” I roll my tired eyes at his deep chuckle, the edges of his eyes turning into happy curves. “The first stage of applications are still being looked over. But hey, I never said it would be easy, they’re a tough bunch to please. If it’s any consolation, rumour has it they’re handing out trial missions to the first round of recruits soon.”

Chapter 5.5 (3)

There was a fine line between being a natural born killer, and someone you wanted associated with such fickle political alliances. Which meant, at present date, only the top percent of applicants made it into their ranks, hell the list was growing smaller as we speak. “I take it she asked you to check in on me?”

“Well it has been a few days since you took the keys to this place, surprised you haven’t burnt it to the ground yet” My captain smirks easily, tousling his short hair with an amused look upon his face. Shooting him daggers, I ignore the soft footfall from outside and pull myself off of the couch.

Chapter 5.5 (4)

“Although the smell of old booze and cigarettes is really bringing down the neighbourhood, Lark.” Nickolai announces, a broad, toothy grin adorning his face. His right hand curls around the frame of the door, his bronzed skin glinting in the flickering lights from the hallway, and I frown, the cavalry had arrived. “Ya know, she’ll kill you if you wear that tonight.” Like he could talk, families dinners, as few as they were, it was a generally accepted rule that uniforms were left at the door.

Growling, I trudge my bare feet out of the room. I can hear their voices,  loud, and boisterous as I find my way to the bathroom. Splashing cold water across my face, breathing in deeply as the remaining droplets slowly move down my face. Still, even after the years, I felt like a child on the verge of being scolded by being in her presence as I would tonight. It was a strange thing, but my mother acted as my kryptonite.

Chapter 5.5 (5)

I guess that her overprotective streak bought back memories of my darkest hours. The nightmares that plagued my unconscious mind, that cold, white hand always sending shivers down my back, and the otherworldly voice, sending visions of eternal darkness and forcing back into it. Perhaps, just maybe she was my weakness, was because that was what she wanted me to be. Did it annoy her that I was a fighter? Did it hurt her? Did I… Hurt her?

I shrug the thought away almost as quickly as it had invaded my thoughts. Tonight would be long enough without that kind of thinking. It wasn’t as though I disliked my family, not in as so many words. But there were very clear lines of where each one stood in the delicate balance. Nick was the golden boy, despite having a different mother to us, and Sampson was… The opposite, completely. His nervousness, was Nick’s confidence, his sensitivity was Nick’s arrogance. Mother was… Mother was, frantic, and nervous, and father liked to pretend everything was under control. And I, I was still seen as the sick kid, who was in hospital every other week when I was a kid.

“Lets get this over with, already.” I smirk, strutting past Nick and Sora on my way out. I don’t bother to change, or bother to find clean socks, instead I just leave, with my head held high. If Nick got to wear his uniform, no matter how busy he might be at the moment, I sure as hell wasn’t going to change.

Chapter 5.5 (6)

We arrive to the old, musty dive bar that I had picked out especially. The strong smell of intoxication lurked in the air and clung to it’s patrons, the sounds of the slot machines squeal as the old machinery moves into place. Handsome men drag their eyes up and down my body, and whisper under their breathes. A place like this you could really get used to.


The mercenary core was definitely slow, by the time I finally got the news of my approval into the next round, nearly two weeks had passed. The slow reply had dampened the excitement of the news, however, so to had the blaring hangover that throbbed painfully in my head.

Chapter 5.5 (7)

“You are all here today, to be assigned into your mission groups. As you will notice, each group will have an assigned captain, chosen from the Mercenary core from which you are applying. Their position on your team is to provide an accurate report of your skills and abilities, while assuring that you do not fall into any undo danger.” The feminine voice of the instructor is cold, and sharp. Around her short, falling locks is an air of danger, as she paces restlessly, up and down the dirt path. “Now, if you will, please move to your assigned group once your name has been called.”

Underneath the hot sun, the time seems to drag on as we wait our names to be called. My eyes scan the twenty or so kids that had been called down to the training grounds to be placed into the core. My lower lip sticks out with boredom as my eyes trace the clouds darting across the blue skies. Step one, complete, I had made it this far already. My breath is shaky as my name is called, and fall into line with my captain for the mission brief, and introductions.

Chapter 5.5 (8)

“Welcome to team six everyone. From today until further notice I am your squad captain, and superior.” My eyes meet his dark pupils as his voice greets all four of us. As he speaks pleasantries and goes over formalities, my eyes take in the curves of his face, and toned body. His plain black top did little but cling to his muscled chest, and I bite my lip, thoughts formulating lazily in my mind. Surely I couldn’t pull a move on the guy holding my career in his hands, although, I’m sure it would be easy enough to explain walking in on him in the shower if we were going to spend a lot of time together. “My name is Riley Judd, I joined the core shortly after my nineteenth birthday. My pack originates from the northernmost part of Moonlight Falls, and my favourite food is sushi. Who’s next, how about you, Blondie.”

“Uh, hi, my name is Seth…” The man begins with a sigh, I don’t know the guy, and don’t particularly care to. We’re all just serving a purpose for one another right now, and we all want the same thing. As long as we complete the mission, then I suppose names and favourite foods don’t matter a whole lot. Who knows if he’ll even stick around long enough for it to matter.

“Now that we got the formalities down, we can talk about the target, and assignment.” Judd states breaking me from my thoughts. With a quick smile, his eyes dart down to his watch. “Now if you all follow me, we can go someplace a bit more private, and discuss this whole thing in more detail.”

Chapter 5.5 (9)

My eyes falling onto Samspon’s as we begin to set off. “Just stay out of my way, okay?” I hiss under my breath. It was cruel for me to say it, to let the words slide dangerously off of my tongue, but it’s inevitability was painfully obvious. This wasn’t something that I needed anyone to help me with, especially not him.

“Look, Larka, I’m sorry-“

“Just don’t screw this up for me.”


So because I am a little bit late (I can get the dialogue perfect in my head, but pen to paper gahhh what a mess), I thought I’d take a few family photos to make up for it. My photo skills are pretty bad, buutttt…. I haven’t done family photos since like generation 2? And I already adore this generation and what it will become.

Gen 5 family photo (2)

The kids (even if Larka looks somewhat pyschopathic)

Gen 5 family photo

I got one out of five smiling (can you call that a smile?), so that’s good enough for me.

Gen 5 family photo (3)

These two :3

Anyway, after remembering to look up her traits, Larka’s is as follows.

Hot headed, rebellious, perceptive, commitment issues, and brave.

I guess after this chapter we get into the actual story line, sorta, a guess… I’m not really sure which point you can say definitively is the guts of the story, but it’s no longer setting up for where we might go, and where Larka stands with her world.

Chapter delay

Posted: December 5, 2013 in Generation 1

Okay guys so i know I usually post a new chapter ever Thursday around this time, but it’s not going to be finished until tomorrow :/

I thought I could finish it tonight, but I feel horrid. It feels like I’ve torn every muscle in my back, ribs and sternum, so I just cannot sit at my desk any longer trying to get this done. It will be published tomorrow since it’s about half way done, so at least it’ll only be a day late.

I’m sorry for the delays guys, forgive me x_x


Soft, frantic giggles pass my mouth with ease. Softly radiating my core and vibrating against my dry, aching throat, begging for sweet relief, and there was only one type of relief that I was looking for. The warm, intoxicating taste of his life, and gentle thrum of his inhuman heart beneath the curves of my pink lips. The faintest hint of an aged, forgotten memory staining my mind as he bleeds out before me. Euphoria opening up my veins and bringing vibrancy into my world. Colouring me drunk with passion and blood lust.

Aleksi was my target, the man who had provided me DNA so I might be born, but had left without a single letter, only negligence. And the hunt was just teasing anticipation. It would make the grand finale so much sweeter and glorious indeed. For now, I hid behind the silver bars, dancing in the shadows of his life. A predator, watching, waiting. And soon, a fool would come along, willing to free me from my sentence. No, it wouldn’t be long now. Their blood would stain these white walls, and my escape painting it red. And then the real game would begin. I’d play the cat, him the mouse, and together we’d dance til the music stopped playing. And who would be standing but me.


A large crazed smile burns at my lips, curving them into a large lopsided smile. The anger within me seeming to tear away all forms of logic and empathy for the man. It made me long for him presence, to plunge my hand into his chest, and to curl my delicate fingers around the only organ in his entire body that provided him with life. I wasn’t a violent person, but there was something about the man that sent shivers down my spine, and the thoughts into my mind.

Kill him, Vivian….

They seemed to whisper so methodically towards me. Soft little coos amidst the silence of my mind. They told me that it would end my pain, and with every second closer to death he got, the hole in my heart would begin to sew itself back to together. And the feelings of inadequacy, of never being good enough would fade away. And the loneliness…

End your pain, do it. Do it for you, for your baby, that he took from you. Kill him…

My emerald eyes glint with the fascination and curiosity. What would it feel like? To kill the man who dared to call me daughter? Would it feel good? And this time I can’t help the smile, and curving of my lips from ear to ear. The cold, vacant stare that looked about the room. And beneath my tangled hair, the laughter start again. Starting in my stomach and erupting from my throat in a great bellow. My sides ache with every struggled breath as I blink away the sadness and misery nipping from underneath the haze in my fragile mind. A soft whisper screaming for help.


Wake up, you have to wake up…

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” I scream trying to silence the fear bubbling just beneath the fabric of my damaged psyche. The gentle delusion sounding almost hysterical. Almost familiar…. But, no… “No! You’re not real! You’re not!” I scream this time louder at the voice that threatened to break me, lost somewhere between a memory and a dream. “Go away! You’re not real!”

Momma, what did he do to you? Momma wake up. Please…

“My baby DIED!” I howl, the tears spilling down my cheeks softly, a warm liquid trail. I had heard her before, many times in the darkness. She whispered to me like the other voice did, except she filled me with a dark despair, and hopeless pain in my chest and womb where she should be. “You’re dead! You’re not real!” Demons, witchcraft. It was Vladimir trying to win me back by sending me voices of it… Reminding me. That was it.  “I don’t love you!” I hiss with a snarl, curling my top lip back revealing my white teeth. “Go away!”


Be careful, momma. None of this real. Remember, please, remember…

“Stop it!” Jabbing out a finger accusingly I whirl around the room a few times, searching for the phantom not visible to my eyes. Alone… I was alone… But the voice was real, as real as you or me, and she taunts my mind to the light. Whispering lies of fallacy and cruelty. The fabric of the deception trying to blind me from thoughts of revenge, to tempt me from my path. “Stop talking!! Liar! You’re a liar! You don’t exist!” Almost confident my voice rages, trying to convince myself of the fact. This voice was evil. The other one told me how to get better, to kill my father, and I would be okay. But this wanted me to suffer.

If you love him… If you love any of them, then remember the name. Remember what he told you to do…

“You’re not here.” I whisper coldly to myself. Alone I stood, arguing with nothing but the silence and the wind. The flickering of lights, and the changing pictures on the TV. But her voice was as clear as day, as real as the bars that held me inside this room, and right now, I’d give anything for the other voice to come back to me. For anything but the confusion, and hurt, and guilt. And love? How long had it been since I had truly felt it? If at all? I had every right to my anger, to my sense of violence rising in my chest. I’d kill them all, I’d show them that they couldn’t just walk away. That they couldn’t just forget about me.

I wish that I could stay. More than this I wish, you could’ve seen my face… Wake up…


And then the voice, the evil parading as soft pleas for sanity is silenced, almost as quick as it appeared. Gone. And my chest slumps with a great heave, a sigh and heavy breath passing through my airways. I can still feel the nagging probing sensation in my brain, like I had a forgotten word at the tip of my tongue, begging for remembrance. Had I forgotten something of importance? Someone told me to do something?

No! Lies!

The first voice shoots through my mind, and perhaps it was right. No, of course it was right. This voice only wanted to help me. It offered me salvation every word, and every syllable of the purring whispers. Salvation, the one thing on this earth that I needed to make me better. Step one, revenge. Step 2, happy. Nothing else could fix me. No one else could offer me what this voice was. The anger alone was proof that I needed it, that I needed him to die.

I’m sick. I’m broken. And the only way to fix me is to kill him, to kill them. This anger would continue to grow, like a hard lump growing in my stomach, and it would expand, and multiply, until finally, I exploded. And the fear, this cursed sickness had stained my blood since he had left me with a hole in my heart that nothing could fill. Footsteps in the hallway…  I’m drowning under a sea of my own insecurities and miseries. Choking on my own tears, filling my lungs to the brim and everyone around me is breathing.

And soon, I’d either die, giving up the fight, or break the surface, reborn in blood…

Soon, my dear, soon…


“Vivian.. Who were you talking to?” The strong, husky voice murmurs under his breath. Lucian slumps against the wall, at his side a young boy, and a wolf with faded brown coat, and a speckling of gold on it’s coat. The animal cocks it’s head to the side, pricking an ear forward, a soft whine escaping it’s hungry lips as it stares back intelligently. “No answer then? Fine.” The anger is breathed out heavily, Lucian clenching his jaw together in frustration, and I can see it. Smirking back at him, I offer a cold half smile, with a sadistic glint in my eyes. It was hurting him to be here, and I wanted him to hurt.

“What do you want, mutt?” I hiss at him, drawing the words out slowly for emphasis as his face turns blank. Muscles tighten underneath the sunkissed skin of his body. And out from his pocket, he draws a pair of keys.

“I can assure you, that there is no chance of escaping, Vivian.” Lucian states, moving towards the door stiffly almost sensing the atmosphere in the room change. Maybe he knew what my plan was. “I may still hold some hope that you’re in there, but trust me, the others would not think twice about detaining you.”


As he unlocks the door and steps inside with his troop, my wrists are clasped tightly behind my back. “Me? Escape?” I pretend to scoff at the idea of it, but in reality, he was playing into my game more than I could of imagined. Lucian was an ace in hole, and I could easily make him do whatever the hell I wanted. The angelic batting of my eyelids, warm tears following down my battered, beaten down cheeks, and then the words. Exactly what he wanted to hear. “I’m not going anywhere, Luc.” I whisper softly as the silver handcuffs burn my wrists uncomfortably.

“I’m sorry about the silver.” He breathes into my ear with a long, drawn out breath. And for a few seconds, my own breath deepens involuntarily, and I almost forget about the stinging sensation against my bare wrists. Keep fighting, momma.” And then I remember again, as he pulls away stiffly. “And that it had to come to this at all.”


Before long, we follow the trail of the fading moon into the forests. The soft patter of our feet, and the summer crickets chirping echoes around us. Despite this noise, the place was eerily quiet, yet hauntingly full. It isn’t long before I feel watchful eyes on me as I stumble on. Through the trees they stand and stalk. And maybe, escape would be harder than I thought. The golden eyes glow from behind the forest’s foliage and about me.

Rain batters down onto my skin, soaking my clothing through and through. My feet squishing onto the forest floor, water rising between my toes of every thoughtless step. My eyes quickly gaze around, a strange memory of this place in my eyes, and what that had meant. But I push past it, that part of me was gone, that Vivian was gone. So whatever it was, where ever we were going, didn’t matter. Instead, I focus on the clouds of steam with every breath we take. The water droplets falling and beading on the leaves, and trees around us. The fog had begun to fall down from the mountains, and the air, was still stickily warm.

In silence we walk briskly, until the trees come to sudden clearing and the earth drops away from the trees, dropping down in sudden, thought out increments. Three sides of the strange square base at the bottom, rising with the steps carved from the earth itself, and stone. Large pillars rise from the ground and up to the tree tops marking the final side. The aged stone cracked and weary.


Gritting my teeth, my mind fights against the anger haze in my mind, trying to recall the memory of the time that I had spent here as a young teenager. The forgotten stage calls out to me, as I see the young Lucian crossing across the path, pulling me close to his body, before his lips were planting delicately against my own. And in response, I small weary growl rumbles from in my throat as I’m led to the bottom.

My eyes dart around, flickering from Lucian to the ground. The haze trying to block it out again. Don’t listen to him, Vivian, it’s nothing but a trick… I square my shoulders as my feet touch the bottom, the stone revealing itself underneath the thick grass patches almost overrunning it.  And like I was all those years ago, I’m hit with a strange sense of awe of the place. Wondering questions of what it was used for, and who created it. The purpose that we all had.

“Why are we here?” I question, trying to pull my hands away from each other, but the silver confining them holds tight. Lowering his arm, Lucian motions for me relax, to just listen. Don’t listen, run… Fight….


“I…” Lucian pauses, running a hand through his hair, and shaking off the water forming in it. “Vivian, I thought I should be the one to tell ya, that this… That this could be goodbye. Bridgeport is being overrun by reckless vampires, and too many people are at risk, including you. As head of y pack, I had to make a choice, whether or not to fight this fight, and I decided on the right thing to do.” The young boy looks at the ground nervously, before his eyes reach back up to Lucian. Fear evident in them. “And the right thing to do is to fight.”

Once again my mind struggles against the fog and clouds, trying to find the words that I needed to say. Wanted to say, for him… No, not wanted, needed to say so that I could be free. Stop digging! “So, you’d… Die, for me?” The words slowly form on my lips and fall around us. A soft guiltiness crosses his eyes very briefly before his eye brows push together. “I never asked you to, Lucian.”


For a few minutes, we just stare at each other. My eyes narrow in on his proud face, he was to proud, and it would get him killed. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. One part of me felt a stabbing feeling in my chest, knocking the air out of me. But then the voice… Let him go, let him die by them… “No!” I snap at the voice, partly confused by what he was telling me. You don’t need him, so let him suffer… “No, I won’t.”

“No you won’t?” His head cocks to the side as a look of concern covers his face. Of course he couldn’t hear the voice, it was my voice. Only mine. He wasn’t good enough for it. Maybe he should march his pack to Vladimir’s den, that way they could all scream in agony together. “Vivian… I know you’re still here with me. And, once upon a time, you would have been sad to see me go.”


“Well…” Grappling with my confusion, I can’t decide what I want anymore. I wanted freedom, to run with the cold breeze on my face, to be no one’s property. I wanted to stalk the night til I found my father’s body. To get that far I would have to take the life, or at least injure the people in the way, the man with the key. But as Lucian puts a hand around my neck, my muscles tense. And the unknown comes rushing back. “I… I’m not that girl anymore. She’s gone. She died a long time ago.”

“Perhaps, but I don’t think that you were the one who put her to rest.” He challenges with a fierce, and sad tone. And as his eyes bore into mine, the other voice screams so loud, I’m almost deafened by the sound of her. Fight for him, return to him, just go back.. They can’t hurt you now “Maybe after all of this is done, if either of us survive, you’ll come back to us.”

“That’s what she says.” I respond, my heart thumping paining in my chest. Full of longing and fear. My bones shiver against the warmth of the night air, and rain, shiver against each other. Don’t listen to her… She doesn’t want you to get better… No! They are the liars. Momma, don’t listen to it. It only seeks destruction! Hush! Trust me Vivian…


“What she says?” Lucian questions but my mind is elsewhere. Focusing on the angry voices continuing to grow louder and louder. Now’s your chance, Vivian, attack him, grab the keys. My face pulls into a worried frown, my hands trembling as I pull against the painful metal around my wrists. Struggling for freedom, to fight off the screams. “Vivian?!” Fight them! You don’t need to give into him anymore! “Viv!?! Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Stop it!” I yell, warm tears streaming down my cold, porcelain face. Your still in there… So… “Just shut up! Stop talking, please!” I sob continually, feeling Lucian’s hand softly cupping my shoulders as I push away from him, half hysterical. Another voice, another memory penetrating my weakened mind. 

‘Kill them both 

The cruel male voice purrs, somewhere from my past.

anybody who tries to stop you, or who gets in your way…’

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the summer set wolf tense and bare her long, sharp teeth in my direction as I scream into the night, for all of my phantoms to hear and obey. “What’s happening to her?” The boy asks alarmed, taking a spot by Lucian’s side, as they restrain me.

‘… Dispose of them too. Do you understand..?’


Before I can even pay attention or notice what is happening to me, two men appear from the shadows, with a sharp nod from each move to beside the boy. “Ty, you will go with Sampson and Ivan, take Vivian into the mountains, to the old abandoned mine shafts, there is an old shelter there, and lock her in the old cell in D block.” The young boy nods half halfheartedly, the possibility and reality of what was coming seeming to hit him right there and then. “And Vivian…” He whispers, softening his grip on my shoulders. “I don’t know the outcome of this war, of this fight, of whether or not we’ll both be here come tomorrow. But I’ll… I’m gonna go in there, and I’m going to tear Vladimir in half for all that he’s done to you, and then, I’ll bring Rafe back home… And I’ll come back to you, and drag you back out myself.”

My stomach flutters softly, as the anger begins to work it’s way back into my body. Except this time, it’s filled with dread, and confusion. Anxiety of what will come of this fight. But looking into his eyes, the tears begin to wash away with the soft rainfall, and I can feel the pulse of his heart through each of his fingers.”There’s nothing to come back too.” Soft lips caress my forehead gently before he pulls away, and the two strangers grip my arms and pull me away.

And even as I’m dragged up and out of the old site, my head turns around to see a large red wolf running back in the direction of town. It pauses for a moment, raising it’s muzzle into the air, a haunting melody climbing up and into the heavens. And in every fiber of my being, I could tell, war was coming.


Authors note

Okay so I apologise about ending the chapter slightly early. I was going to have some sneak peak photos of the next chapter. The wolves running, Aleksi arriving at the presidents residence in the daylight with guns pointed at his back from the security. But my game has frozen way too many times, and I haven’t even taken a single photo… Photographed the chapter no problem, go to do a few final teasers and it won’t even work.. Typical 😛



On a side not. And a bit off topic, but can I have a moment to talk about how in love with Lucian’s and Becki’s son I am. Like the photo does not do him justice at all (sims look terrible in CAS), he is just… As an in game child, he still beats 99% of my attempts to create a good looking sim. I kinda just need a moment to… *Cough* Stare *cough cough*

I’m so pumped to show you our heir too (who I kinda spoilt already by having her in a special)

But all I can say is, that I am so, so stoked for the next generation 😉