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hydrangeahug · 3 years

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[ Coffee and Wine ]

Simeon x Lucifer | Chapter 4 out of ? | Angst with a happy ending

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Chapter 4. Chaos, destruction and tea

The way back was relatively quiet, but that was to be expected considering that it was currently around 5AM. Only a few demons were up at this time, most of which went to their job or back home from a long day of work. Lucifer would have enjoyed this quiet morning walk if it wasn't for the fact that he hadn't slept the night before and that the silence gave him too much time to think about the events of the day once more.

How would he explain to his brothers that Simeon not only fell, but will also be living with them soon? Lucifer had no doubt that some of them would be happy, while others might not have a good reaction towards such a huge change in their life. But even then, he had made up his mind. Simeon will be living with them, if they want him to or not is irrelevant.

Lucifer passed by the Colosseum on his way back and it looked like some demons had started investigating the area on either Diavolo's or Barbatos' command. It was highly unlikely to find something relating to Simeon's fall but it was better than missing some key elements that might help them later on, or that could help Simeon remember what happened.

It wasn't long until Lucifer arrived at the house. It was… weirdly quiet from the outside. You wouldn't even be able to guess just how much chaos happens inside every single day if you just walked by. Part of Lucifer wanted to go back and ask if the castle perhaps had a room for him, he was tired, had a headache and needed sleep. And he knew all too well that he wasn't going to get any sleep for a few more hours with the brothers nearby.

And a small part of him wanted to stay with Simeon for just a short while longer.

Lucifer put his hand on the doorknob, ready to open the door. And as if on command, there was a loud scream heard from the inside. Based on the high pitched ringing in Lucifer's ears, it was most likely Asmodeus. Of course he couldn't just get back home without anything happening, how could he even believe that it would be any different.

Oh how he wished to be back at the castle right now, but there was no use in standing there hoping things would get better on their own, they never did with the brothers, after all. So he took the small amount of willpower he still had left and went inside, but nothing that he was mentally prepared for could have prepared him for the flood that came out of their house the moment he opened the door.

So that's why Asmodeus had screamed.

The water had now mostly gone outside while Lucifer stood there, and if Lucifer wasn't drenched, tired and ready to murder the next demon in his sight, then maybe he would even joke about the plants outside finally getting some water. But right now he wanted to know who was at fault for the entire House of Lamentation being turned into a bathtub. So he finally made his way towards the entrance while trying his best not to slip on the stairs that could now be used as a slide.

"Lucifer! Look at what they've done to the house! My makeup and clothes are completely ruined..." Asmodeus was the first to 'greet' Lucifer back home. He was standing inside next to the door, most likely in an attempt to escape once things got bad, but he seemingly didn't expect things to end up this bad either.

"Who do you mean by they?" Lucifer took a few steps inside, hoping to see whoever was at fault for this still in the area. But it seemed like they took the opportunity when Lucifer was still in shock to run.

"Mammon and Levi! Levi was screaming at Mammon to give him his money back when I went out of my room, then Mammon ran downstairs in an attempt to get away but Levi catched up to him! And then at some point Levi summoned Lotan…"

Of course it was Mammon! Who else would dare to cause such destruction at such an hour? "Did you see where they went?" Oh how Lucifer hoped that he had gotten far enough away so he couldn't catch up, unless he wanted to find out just how done Lucifer was with the day. But knowing these two, they were probably still fighting somewhere in the house.

"I think I saw Levi running upstairs, maybe he was running after Mammon again…? Maybe Mammon ran to his room?" That was to be expected. Mammon usually barricaded himself into his room when Leviathan wanted his money back. But this time it seems like Leviathan somehow got Mammon out of his room at first so he tried running outside instead. Which, as Lucifer could both see and feel, ended up in utter chaos and destruction.

Without saying anything else, Lucifer made his way towards the stairs. At first he couldn't hear anything that could indicate Mammon or Leviathan on the upper floor, but then he heard it. There was one voice coming from the direction of Mammon's room. Leviathan's, Lucifer assumed.

"MAMMON GET OUT OF YOUR ROOM!" with the sound of someone banging against a door with almost enough strength to punch the door in.

"Leviathan, do you mind explaining to me why the lower floor has been turned into a swimming pool?" Leviathan slowly turned around towards the voice until he realized that it was, indeed, Lucifer's, and that he didn't just imagine that.

"I'm… sorry… I truly didn't mean too! I was just so mad at Mammon because he-"

Lucifer made his way towards Mammon's door and interrupted Leviathan's speech to get Mammon out of his room, after all, it wasn't fair to only scream at Leviathan, right? "Mammon, if you do not come out of this room in the next second then giving anyone their money back will be the least of your problems."

Mammon opened the door right after Lucifer had finished his sentence and immediately started talking in an attempt at getting away, Lucifer wondered how he still hadn't noticed that no matter what he would say, none of his words could get him out of trouble, no matter how often he tried. "He was the one to summon Lotan! Not me! I don't see why you'd need me for this! And I have a modeling job in a few minutes-"

"Oh? At 5:30AM? That's quite early for you, don't you think? I don't remember you ever taking a job so early in the morning. But even if so, I'm sure they'll understand if I give them a call to let them know that you will be a bit late. Actually, how about you give me their number right now?" Lucifer knew that it was a lie, Mammon wasn't a morning person and it was surprising that he was awake at this hour at all.

"Nononono it's alright! I'm sure they'll understand if I'm a bit late!!"

"Mammon, your lies are embarrassing…" Leviathan said, who was seemingly not all too happy about seeing the man who had taken his money once again, or perhaps he still hadn't returned the money he last 'borrowed'.

"Oi! What do ya mean by lies??"

Lucifer caught into his hand to catch the two bickering demons' attention. "Now that we have that settled, how about we talk about the mess in the entire first floor? Mammon…?"

"Why are ya lookin' at me like that! It wasn't me!" Mammon put his hand up to point at Leviathan and continued, " It was this weirdo! He got all mad at me for something we already discussed and chased me around the house until he suddenly summoned Lotan!"

"DISCUSSED?! YOU TOLD ME YOU'D GIVE ME MY MONEY BACK YESTERDAY!"

"AND I TOLD YOU I DIDN'T HAVE ANY RIGHT NOW! WE TALKED ABOUT THIS!"

"YOU-"

"Are you two done now? I was going to only hang you two from the chandelier for half a day if you cleaned the mess you made but it seems like you'd rather have a whole day all to yourself."

"NONONO I'LL CLEAN I'LL CLEAN!"

"I'LL CLEAN EVEN BETTER THAN MAMMON!"

And they were gone before Lucifer could say another word. Oh well, Lucifer could worry about how well they actually cleaned once he woke up.

___

[ The House of Lamentation ]

Lucifer: if I find any of you just looking at my room anywhere before 12 then they will spend the next few days hanging from the chandelier until Simeon arrives here.

Satan: Well someone sure sounds like they didn't catch enough sleep tonight…

Beelzebub: Is Simeon visiting us?

Belphegor: Now that you mention it, Satan, I didn't see Lucifer anywhere in the last few hours.

Asmodeus: He came home just a short while ago! I wonder where he was, maybe on a date? ♡

Belphegor: Probably on a date with Diavolo, if anything.

Belphegor: But what does Simeon want from us? Hopefully not another exchange program…

___

Simeon couldn't sleep. No matter how hard he tried. Each time he closed his eyes they immediately opened up again, fearing the images he might see in his sleep, the nightmares he most definitely would have. The only reason he didn't have them earlier was because he passed out from the pain and blood loss. And while he didn't wish to feel the pain from then again, he did wish that he could have slept long enough for him to actually feel energized. It was now 6AM, Simeon noted after looking at the small alarm clock on the bedside table next to him for what felt like the 50th time.

But the moments that his mind couldn't rest also felt like torture. He repeatedly thought about the incident of the day, the pain, the fear. And if his mind wasn't busy with the past then it thought about the future, which part of him also feared.

Simeon wasn't one to be too afraid of uncertainty, or what people thought of him. But knowing that he would soon live with the people who he once saw as family, until he left them to their own fate, was frightening.

They didn't seem to hold a grudge against him, or at least they didn't when he was an exchange student. But back then he also didn't directly live with them. Perhaps they actually all hated him?

And then his mind once again found another way to make him suffer. Luke. What was with Luke? Who would take care of him now that Simeon was gone? And how would they tell him that Simeon was now no longer welcome in the Celestial Realm? And not only that, but that the person who had teached him how to be a proper angel was now no longer an angel himself? He had to ask Diavolo if he could find a way to contact Luke. He needed to talk to him.

There was a gentle knock on the door, taking Simeon out of thoughts. Simeon didn't expect anyone to come by so early - or should he say late? - but he wouldn't mind some company, especially not with the way his mind was wandering now, so he let the person in.

"I apologise for the intrusion, I'm just here to bring some clothes you can wear for the next few days." It was Barbatos. He had a few neatly folded clothes in his hands and made his way towards the closet.

"It's alright, I wasn't sleeping anyway. Thank you."

While putting the clothes into the closet Barbatos spoke up again. "Is there anything troubling you? I could make you some tea, I'm sure I have something that could help you sleep."

There was, a lot. But Simeon didn't want to dump the mess that was his mind onto someone else, even if he knew that Barbatos was trustworthy. "I think that everything that happened in the last few hours was just...a lot." And he didn't lie with that. He did feel overwhelmed by the events of the last day, he just left out a few other things.

"Of course, what happened wasn't something you could just get used to in such a short while. I still remember how the brothers were when they had to get used to living here." Barbatos turned around and gently smiled at Simeon, seemingly in an attempt to make him feel better and more at ease. "If you'd like then I could tell you some stories about that time that I know off while we relax with some tea?"

"That sounds great. Thank you Barbatos."

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me simeon #lucifer x simeon #obey me swd #obey me: one master to rule them all #obey me: shall we date #obey me:swd #obey me barbatos

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ephemeralgalaxies · 3 years

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Loki Ep4 Spoilers below (once more bc I just can't help myself, can I?)

It's been a while since I've had a character as interesting as Mobius to analyze and I have no chill. Spoilers start below:

Also some spoilers for WandaVision but it's been months so hopefully y'all have seen it

TL;DR Mobius really trying to connect back with Loki in order to try and bring the TVA down (and also bc "oops, Loki was right, guess I gotta own up to that bitterness") and it works but it hurts so much. Also see: I can't stop watching this scene over and over trying to understand Mobius' subtle actions bc his reaction here is so different than in all other scenes where he's usually calm or trying to delve deep into Loki's mind for information. Now he's just desperate.

Ok so I know I made a post talking about Mobius' jealousy in that interrogation scene but I also want to touch on when he comes back again after seeing the footage from C-20's interrogation scene bc man is so desperate here and I'm crying

(I'm sorry, I can't get gifs to work for me today so we just using images. But I got these from this post)

Mobius was so hurt last time we saw him, Loki being thrown back into the time cell with Lady Sif, hitting our dear agent with "out of all the liars in this place... you are the biggest... for the [lies] you tell yourself." Mobius has been pushing down all these doubts, hiding all his questions and curiosities of the TVA for a while. He's teased Ravonna, but could never really get anywhere. Then after speaking with Loki about Sylvie, about "you're all variants", Hunter B-15's suspicions, the oddness of C-20's "death" (M:"she was just fine before." R:"well, then she suddenly wasn't fine."). Mobius is finally allowing himself to realize things, to question truly what is going on. (R: "Is that what you wanted to hear?" M: "Yeah, if that's the truth." R: "You've been around Lokis too long.")

In this scene, when he comes back to the time cell for Loki, he's frustrated, he's angry, he's desperate. Everything is a lie. He can't pretend anymore. Loki has bonded with Sylvie (actually caring for another human being without the trauma of Thor: The Dark World and Thor: Ragnarok) ((I'm begging you, pls let him see a variant of Thor in this series and get to bond again, I miss them)). C-20 is likely pruned and gone forever with no answers. B-15 is getting anxious and unfocused. Ravonna is snapping at him and manipulating him with those long speeches (please, Mobius has heard enough from Loki's videos to know when he's being manipulated by fake sentimental words). He's tired, no longer patient enough for all the little quips-- he just need answers. For once in his "life" at the TVA, he just wants the truth. Something to safely hold to.

He's just put Loki through this timeloop of Lady Sif, of someone from home someone that could've been close to him under different circumstances, someone his brother cared about, kicking him/slapping him/ berating him with "you deserve to be alone, and you always will be." Loki's whole "Sacred Timeline Life" marks him to "always be alone", to finally get close to people before being torn away (whether in his own volition or by someone/something else). But with Loki caring for Sylvie, maybe even loving her, this changes everything for this Loki. He could finally care enough to save someone, to go out of his way in order to help others at his own cost. And Mobius knows this.

He asks again, desperate, pleading, hoping. Loki has to believe in himself, has to love himself enough to think to believe that he deserves a family, love, security from his greatest fear. He has to have changed because if not, then he'll either get pruned or wind up just like Mobius. Either way, gone from existence-- life erased, precious memories of "what if", "what once was", obliterated. He has to believe, or it'll happen again and again and again. To everyone, to the whole universe, unless something someone could do the impossible and shatter all reality.

With Wanda (specifically in WandaVision, final episode end credits), with her searching for her children and Vision, attempting the impossible and blending her realities in order to give them life because she needs them, she loves them. (M: "If you really care about [Sylvie]..."). This threat to the Sacred Timeline, pushing closer and closer to the MCU Multiverse, because they have to, because they want to.

(sorry again for bland picture, I love his expression in this gif but it wont load)

Mobius knows Loki is hurting-- from Lady Sif, from his past, from failing to protect Sylvie on his own, from Mobius not believing him and calling him "just a bad friend". He knows Loki could learn to believe, but he doesn't yet. Only Frigga ever told him she believed in him, he needs to hear it again. He needs to know he deserves love because he is loved. Mobius does, "believe, stupidly" (ep2) that Loki has this potential.

When I first saw this scene in the trailers, I was nervous it would be in the context of Mobius trying to get Loki on the TVA's side, "someone good". But here, this is so much better-- he knows the TVA is lying, is manipulating, is destroying lives. (L: "No one bad is every truly bad, and no one good is ever truly good" ep2 again lol). Loki knows he's not "truly good", that he's hurt people-- whether he planned to or not. But he can still be good. He can still choose to love, to care, to believe.

He can be what he's always wanted, what Frigga promised him, what he's always feared. He can be known, be loved, be safe-- Loki doesn't just fear being alone, he fears people choosing to leave him. That's why the memory of Lady Sif instead of Thor reaching for him on the Rainbow Bridge or Thanos threatening the Asgardian refugees or even Odin trying to explain why he "saved" Loki when he fought Loki's homeland. This memory was casual, simple, unnecessary. But it's always the smallest moments that truly impact us the most-- the slight changes.

When Mobius says this to Loki, he freezes-- he's confused, hesitant, scared. No one tells him this, why is someone telling him this, how can I believe this?

And then:

.And the little shrug Mobius gives here

It's so casual, so simple, so nonchalant. He just wants to reassure Loki that he still cares. He just spent a whole interrogation hounding on Loki for finding love with Sylvie, for changing with her (jealous boi be jealous), for lying to him and betraying him (M: "You don't do partners... unless ofc it benefits you and you intend to betray them at some point"). But now, now he's stopped lying to himself. He knows he cares, that Loki has a chance, that they have to burn this place down. Mobius wants stop this from ever happening again, from someone ever having to go through what Loki's gone through, being told they can never be loved because that's just how the Timeline goes. That a kid would be taken away from their family (probably because Sylvie presents feminine?? Idk, feel like MCU Odin wouldn't be so good with that). He has to reassure Loki, he wants to, because no one should ever feel that way again.

(and frick I really hate this, please look at the gifs from the linked post above, u gotta see his precious smile grow)

LOOK AT THIS SMILE, LOOK AT HIM HE'S HAPPY. And it was such a small, subtle apology from Mobius but it made all the difference bc he told Loki that he believes in him. And then they walk back out of the time cell, side-by-side, looking at each other. Content, safe, prepared to face the world together. He's no longer alone.

... And then ofc this happens...

*cue my heart shattering* (bless Hiddleston's acting).

The fact that you can even hear the hitch in Mobius' breath as he realizes this is the end of the line for him, that Ravonna knows and there's no going back--he's not making it out of this.

"One last desperate trick from the desperate trickster."

He talks about the jetski, about what his life might have been, he knows this hits Loki, being ripped from your timeline, losing all that potential. More importantly, it gives Loki a reason to fight. A silent, "Don't let this happen again. Don't let them get away with this. Please, remember me, don't let me disappear." But it doesn't work, because the one thing Mobius didn't account for, is that Loki cares about him. That now, the fight drains out of him. They pruned Mobius, ofc they'll get to Loki and Sylvie. They didn't even hesitate. Loki just lost, once again, the only other person who ever told him they believed in him. "You can be whoever, whatever..." "She told me I could do anything..."

Loki is less of a narcissist and more of a person desperate to fill that hole inside-- he's been neglected, cast aside, told he should want this and then never getting it. A "Glorious Purpose" to always hide in the shadows, to cause suffering, to give others a reason to unite against him. But for once, just once he hoped that he didn't have to do it alone-- that he could unite. And then they crushed those beautiful few seconds of hope like it was just another tedious, burdening purpose of the TVA.

(credits of images/gifs to the original posts linked, none were mine as I can't figure this out at all lol)

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pinkysfaultorbrainsfault · 4 years

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animaniacs - s1e40: puppet rulers

episode summary: after seeing how small children react to the characters on their favourite tv show, brain decides that he and pinky will be children’s tv characters, too, before cryogenically freezing themselves for long enough that nostalgia tricks everyone into loving them enough to... elect them world leaders.

because people are totally thinking about old cartoons thirty years after they came off the air, right? that’s a thing normal people do.

the rundown:

we open in 1954.

nobody knows when in 1954 though, because whoever owns this calender isn’t ticking off the days. never mind! i’m sure they have more important things to do.

like welding some shit together, or whatever, like this guy is doing. “there. albert einstien’s latest experiment will be a powerful success.” if it’s albert einstien’s experiment, i don’t know why he hired this guy to do it, but i guess that’s between the big man and himself.

turns out the experiment only needs to be “powerful enough to pull five boxcars and a little caboose”, which is fine. fair enough if albert einstien wants to outsource production of his trainset. he’s probably busy being photographed for ridiculous facebook memes that say shit like “masks give you HIV”. 🙄

meanwhile, as the music swells and the theme tune comes into the musical layers, we see pinky walking towards brain, who is preparing his coffin. it has a little alarm clock on it so he doesn’t miss bill nye the science guy.

“i’m finished, pinky.” he proclaims. he sure is. “with this cryonic capsule, we shall freeze ourselves and awaken fourty years in the future.” which i suppose is a little less morbid than, yknow, being dead. and bill nye should still be on tv, so it isn’t all bad.+

“egad, brain. what will we do in the future?”

“i don’t know, pinky, but it has to be better than what we’re doing now.”

i feel for him. i have never seen these mice in a well equipped cage. would it kill y’all to put some fucking climbers in there??? jesus.

suddenly, some children appear.

“uncle albert,” they cry. “uncle albert, it’s time.” ominous.

“but kiddies, uncle albert is doing an experiment and did you say it’s time.”

ominous! fortunately, “time” here means “time to sit down and watch tv.”

“hey kids!” says the friendly propellor worm on screen. “what time is it?” it is in fact “TIME FOR MEANIE!” as uncle albert and his fluffy brood proudly complain. yaaaay!

YAAAAAAAAAY.

YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY.

anyway turns out meany’s a bit of a dick.

pinky and brain watch on as the worm gets beaten to death. they are not particularly interested in the violence taking place, until Tiny Einstien Boy Edition (tinestien?) mentions that he wishes “treacle and meanie was president.”

to which brain makes this face.

hm. this is the face i make at my dentist when he asks to see if i’ve been maintaining my crown. sorry that my last dentist exploded my teeth or whatever. that’s kind of why i’m here.

“pinky, are you pondering what i’m pondering?” i want to take a moment out here to point out how fucking tiny brain is pinky is laying on his chest. horizontal and he is still taller than brain i just/?? he’s so fucking small. pinky could just pick him up. he couldn’t do anything. pinky could fucking yeet him like a basketball. or maybe just give him a nice hug.

anyway it turns out brain finally has a use for his cryochamber! he wants to get himself on Time For Meany and “endear himself in the hearts of children.”

anyway so once those kids grow up and become world leaders, they will remember brain fondly enough in their hearts so that... when he thaws out, they’ll, uh, elect him president. not entirely... foolproof, perhaps? but on the other hand if the nice couple from out of the box ran for joint prime minister i’d be pretty hype about it. out of the box doot doot out of the box.

pinky wants his show name to be “big ears.”

brain is more into the idea of being The Iconoclast, an Unconventional Eccentric Who Marches To A Different Drummer. privately that sounds like every single half-bearded nerd man at uni who basically accused me of having my boyfriend do all my coursework for me. does brain intend to hang around cardboard forbidden planet and tell the puppet girls that they don’t have the right to be into guardians of the galaxy? is brain going to be passive aggressive about that 2:2 i got in sculpting and rigging, thomas?????

“oh. i thought maybe you could be noodle noggin.”

we then cut to the studio, where the Fat Ceo Man wants the puppeteer to come up with new puppet characters for the next show. unfortunately, the next show is in three minutes, so he’s not very happy.

good thing he gets this suspicious package in the mail, eh?

as expected, it’s full of mice.

“oh my gosh!” cries our man, who has never seen a mouse before, apparently. “talking puppets!”

“actually we are two laboratory mice who wish to be on your show as part of an intricate plan to take over the world.”

“oh, wow, these are really good.”

so the boys make it on! they probably gave mr puppet man a religious experience, but we don’t see him again, so it’s fine.

“hold it, meany! everyone must meet our two new friends! this is big ears! take a bow, big ears!”

YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY.

“and i am the iconoclast, an unconventional eccentric who marches to a different drummer--”

“but you may call me noodle noggin.”

you can’t see it very well in the last image, because uncle albert’s calender is in the way, but this is basically every episode. big ears says something, noodle noggin says something else that’s slightly more pretentious, meany hits him with a big stick.

everyone fucking loves it.

(fuck me. i never actually looked at this screencap close up before. why is pinky in a mousetrap?? why does it have their real names on it???? and why the FUCK do i not have a little brain toy in his own tiny wagon??? hello??? socialist police????)

unfortunately, all good things must come to an end, and all projects with talking mice in it must be cancelled absurdly early. and an elmyra reboot of big ears and noodle noggin would be pointless, because brain already gets hit on the head in every episode, so eventually brain has to make the announcement.

“this program has been our last show.” he just sort of... says it, and you can tell pinky definitely wasn’t expecting it. he looks genuinely sad.

but not as sad as the children. even mousetrap pinky looks distraught.

the mice don’t care, obviously, and waste no time in jetting back to the Studio Fridge to activate their cryonic chamber, where pinky makes a very interesting point.

“but brain, why are we freezing ourselves at the height of our popularity?

“to stay fresh in their memory, pinky. we must, to paraphrase milton berle, ‘leave them wanting more’. i’ll see you in the future, pinky.”

there are no good frames for that portion of dialogue but whatever! let’s see how well that goes for them.

conclusion:

so the first thing the boys do upon waking up from ice and dust is to broadcast themselves on tv. “remember me?” asks brain. “it’s your old pal, the iconoclast.”

“and his old pal! zort! big ears!”

it’s very cute.

unfortunately these people are less impressed. they just sort of point, in a scary way. brain invites them all down to the tv station to “shower us in praise and material gifts,” and waits for the fans’ inevitable arrival.

“at last, we can write our own ticket, pinky. no longer in glorious suffering.” alright, hubert von vestra! calm down.

which is when the fans show up. hopefully the fact that they are all morbidly obese is like... coincidental, or to show off the fact that they’re all wearing kid tshirts, right? surely pinky and the brain wouldn’t tell me, a disabled person, that fat people are Bad And Losers? surely not.

“at last, my public has come to shower me with gifts.”

“guess again, noodle noggin!”

“huh.”

“you abandoned us!” cries the crowd. “you went away! you ruined our lives!” as brain tries to grapple with the fact that they are not, in fact, worshipping his image (and uploading pictures of him in the garden of mindy dress to e621) they present him with inordinately expensive therapy bills, because america be that way.

“PAY EM.” yells a gruff man with terrible facial hair. pinky and brain decide they would rather not.

honestly, i’m going to have to give this one to brain. sorry, brain. pinky did make the point earlier, and maybe if brain had thought about it, they might have been able to edit the plan a little and have things work out differently?

or maybe he was just tired of getting hit on the head all the time. ask pinky about that one, b.

brain: 3 pinky: 3 outside influence: 5

“quickly, pinky, we have work to do.”

“you mean taking over the world?”

“no. like finding a good hiding place.”

#patb #a!#pinky and the brain #animaniacs #this was a good episode #i believe the next one is........... equally memorable #if memory serves correctly

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cblgblog · 4 years

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i have a prompt that i've been thinking about: morgan, around peter's age, finding out the not-so-great side of her father and coming to terms with it. how would you approach that?

Not what I thought I’d be talking about today, wasn’t sure I even had anything helpful to offer (that remains to be seen), but it turns out I do in fact have opinions here.

So first off, I say good call on making Morgan Peter’s age for this. Beloved figures like that—using JFK because he’s in the MCU, and I lack a better example—you don’t really get a fuller picture of them until they’re dead. Until they’ve been dead long enough that you can speak up about their flaws without getting attacked for pointing them out. There’s a very fairytale, this person is all good or all bad mentality when it comes to certain people. Tony would likely be a fairly untouchable figure for awhile after snapping his fingers, especially while people are trying to adjust to a post-EG world. Morgan being Peter’s age gives you about 10 years for people to get past seeing Tony as only the guy who snapped his fingers on Thanos.

Other stuff I might do? I have a headcanon that Tony left a whole lot of video/hologram messages of himself talking to Morgan, see Howard in IM 2 and “You are my greatest creation.” Not because he threw together a massive just in case package for Morgan before giving Steve t time GPS (though it’s him so that’s also possible, frankly), but because, Tony. He’s a hyperactive dude who’s very into what he’s into when he’s into it. So, Tony wakes up at four in the morning and decides he needs to tell something really important about circuit boards or dating or root beer floats or whatever it is. Meanwhile Pepper’s like honey, the baby’s four months old, she just went down, if you wake her again, I will murder you and raise her as a single parent, with widow points. So, what does a guy who really loves his kid and gets really obsessed with his current goals do? Records things for later.

It's a heavy riff on the messages Tony leaves in EG, and it’s my own self-indulgent way to make sure Morgan still has some piece of her father, okay?

So, Morgan Stark who’s grown up on those images her dad recorded for her, and on the stories of his more heroic exploits. Then she’s old enough to start hearing from other sources about the more questionable things he’s done. Yes, he made the snap that restored the universe, he went full-on hero and flew a nuke into space once, but there are other things too. Ultron, the Accords, etc. So, how does a daughter square that?

I don’t know, honestly, the details of that journey would be yours to figure out, but ultimately it probably comes down to the fact that—like a lot of historical figures who go down as heroes—Tony’s record is also littered with black marks, and it’s dishonest not to acknowledge both. My brain spits out the image of Morgan asking Pepper, Happy, Rhodey, whoever, if such and such thing is true, and why didn’t you tell me about it? And some corny as hell but not inaccurate line that he was Morgan’s hero, and that every child deserves to remember their dad like that.

I haven’t watched Far From Home in awhile, but I’d do a riff on Happy’s speech to Peter. The gist of it being that Tony was—on many occasions, a hero, and after his kidnapping in IM 1, he tried to be a better person than what he’d been before. He did a lot of great things, a lot of people looked up to him, credited him with saving their lives. He was also, as I think Happy said, a hot mess. He made incredibly bad choices at times, and other people paid for them. But make sure Morgan’s told that he loved her dearly, that she’s still allowed to love him, to enjoy any memories she may still have of him, and that whatever else he was, Tony loved her. Doesn’t absolve him of his mistakes, like some stans seem to think. Being a dad and loving your offspring doesn’t automatically make you a better person, or mean you didn’t cause major suffering along the way. Morgan, though, is entitled to love him as her father, and to have what memories she may have, especially given how few there probably are. Love the person, not the act, all that, and whatever else he was, Tony was good to Morgan, from what we know. The kid is allowed to keep that, especially since her dad isn’t around to answer for himself.

So…yeah. I have no idea if any of that was at all helpful, and as I said, the journey of how Morgan processes these things in her head is one I don’t have details of, and probably one she’ll be on for the rest of her life. But yeah, that’s what I got, hopefully it helped a little, apologies if it didn’t, good luck on your writing and good on you for wanting to do it.

#Anonymous

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lazerbeamzlifeblog · 4 years

Text

Being gay.

It’s Pride Month so there is no other perfect time to write about how I feel than now. It’s not celebratory though. It’s a venting of my frustrations that hopefully if anyone even bothers reading it, will understand how I feel.

My name is Lawrence, and I think I am gay. I said before many times that I am bisexual, but the more I think about it, I am unsure. I definitely know that I am into guys. It’s just, idk if I do like girls the same way I am into guys anymore. Maybe I only like guys and I was just fooling myself into thinking I like girls too because it felt easier. Maybe it made me feel “normal” because since I can’t get a boyfriend, at least it would be easier to find a girlfriend and maybe I won’t die alone in the end. And now I’m realizing, even if I did get a girlfriend, would I be happy? Cos it would definitely be different than if I were married to a man. I can see myself being happy with a man, but I can’t picture that with a woman. I don’t even consider that. I only imagine myself being married to a man someday so that means something, right? It’s very confusing and I wish I had someone to talk to about these things.

I have been starting to watch more LGBT content and it has made me confront myself more and who I am. I watched “Weekend” and just finished “Love, Victor” by the way and they were amazing. It’s just, they also made me really sad. Even “Love, Victor” made me sad when it is a joyful show for teens and I am 22. So, I think the only way to make myself feel better is to talk about it. They like to paint a picture of being gay as something that when you come out, everything becomes happy again. And I agree, that is true. But what happens after they do that on the tv or movie, hasn’t happened to me yet.

I find being gay as being very lonely and isolating. I am not completely out yet. All my friends know, and that was easy because I knew they wouldn’t judge me and even if they did, I would just find new friends. Heck, my best friend is gay and has a girlfriend. It’s just, I never told my parents. And that, to me, still imprisons me. I feel I can’t be truly happy yet until they know.

But they can’t know, not yet at least. My parents are strict, filipino Catholics. All of my immediate family are as well and close friends of theirs are too. Being gay is something to be laughed and no one takes it seriously. They mistake gay men as men that want to be females. They do not see men that truly loves men and dismiss it altogether. I am too afraid to come out to them. I am afraid they won’t accept me, that they will abandon me and never speak to me again, maybe kick me out since I still live with them and/or send me to a conversion camp to “change.” So, I am so afraid that I am afraid to be myself. I decided a long time ago, that if I were ever to come out, I would have to do it when I am living on my own and that is my plan, but just the moving out part. I plan to move out as soon as I graduate after this final school year. Coming out, I am still unsure of. I know the sooner I do it, I’ll be able to be free and start to be happy. But, I am afraid of what will happen. Am I going to tear apart my family? Am I going to destroy what little life I have left? Cos I don’t have someone else to lean on if I don’t have them. I have friends, but I am not confident I can lean on them for support if I no longer have a relationship with my parents.

Even with not being completely out, I can’t seem to find anybody. All the boys I liked turned out to be straight and have girlfriends. I even spent a day with one boy who I thought would finally be the one. He asked me if he wanted to go go-karting with him on the weekend and I said it’s a bit far and asked him if he could give me a ride and he said yes. I spent the whole day with him and honest to god, it was the best day of that whole year for me, and it still is after. I mistaken it for a date somehow. I guess I just got so infatuated with him, after spending so much time with him riding in his car and talking with him and learning about his life. He is such a good person. He is wicked smart, he takes really good care of his family, and he is so freakin’ hot. I mean, that was why I liked him in the first place, but once I started to learn more about him I fell for him more and more. I decided to try and find out if there was a chance we could be together at some point in that day. I got us to start talking about relationships, and it sunk me. He had ex-girlfriends and doesn’t at all seem interested in me, let alone boys. I liked him so much, that once I figured out he was straight I completely broke down inside but carried on smiling as he took me home. I was so infatuated with him, that I failed to see that the way he treated me wasn’t special, he treated everyone the same. He was just a very respectable man. And even though I feel so heartbroken, I still love him and that is a cruel, cosmic joke. And I feel as though I am always going to love him because I can’t stop thinking about him. I can’t stop imaging what it would be like to be with him and holding hands and kissing and sleeping with him in his apartment. I want to stop thinking about him, but I can’t.

The other boys, all seem to have girlfriends. Every time I think some guy is interested in me, that happens. I think I am so obsessed with being in a relationship that I warped reality and tricked myself into thinking any act of kindness from a guy that is more than just politeness, means they like me. I tried dating apps like Tinder and Grindr, but nothing ever came out of it. I don’t know what to do. I feel so lonely and the more I think about it, the more the void screams for me. Like, death doesn’t seem too bad anymore and actually seems great.

I have depression and struggled with it for a long time. And I think by now, I realize the source of my mental illness. My inability to be myself since I can’t come out, and my inability to find a partner and somehow put all my self-worth into finding a partner when I should be happy with myself at least. So, I think I am just now realizing why I am so obsessed with my hunt for a partner. Cos if I did, my depression would finally be over and I can stop thinking about wanting to die. And that is a dangerous proposition.

It isn’t discussed enough about mental illness in LGBT youth. I think a lot of us are suffering as I am, and it isn’t being spoken enough. The depression, the loneliness, the isolation. Coming out will not be enough for me. Finding just my first boyfriend seems impossible. And I feel dragged to black holes that eat me alive until I fix this somehow. I don’t know what to do.

I think I plan to move to Orlando, where there is a higher chance of finding a partner for me unlike the Jacksonville area. But then again, this is my naive brain talking. I do not know what will actually happen. I just feel really lonely. And when I feel lonely, I get really sad. And becoming really sad, just makes me want to die. And I want this cycle to end. I hope someone, whoever reads this, can understand.

21. June. 2020. LF.

#lgbt pride #lgbt discourse #lgbtq #pride month #gay pride #pride #gay #insecurities #depressing thoughts #depression #depressed #depressing #mentally ill #mental breakdown #mental disorder #mental

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dokidoki-tae · 5 years

Note

If you don’t mind, could you do the solo mission but with alternative ending with their s/o died during the mission because I want to see la squardra’s reaction toward their s/o death especially Risotto and Ghiaccio. if you don’t feel comfortable to write this then I understand. I am just suddenly want to read something angsty and the solo mission seems to be perfect fit to me at least.

Yeah! No problem! I hope it’s to your liking. I’m sorry if it’s too much or not what you’re looking for.

TW: Death, violence, blood

Risotto: When he discovered your broken and beaten body, his last bit of humanity left this world. He felt like he’d fail as a Leader, as a lover, and as an assassin. As your lover, he felt like he had a duty to protect you from harm, yet he sent you on a mission alone. As a Leader, he was supposed to protect his subordinates, and as an assassin, he wasn’t supposed to allow himself to fall in love and feel happiness. He was supposed to leave all that behind. He allowed himself to become weak, and he wouldn’t allow that to happen ever again. And he knew there was no one else in the world to ever replace you. Everything you made him feel would no longer exist. All that was left was a cold, hollow shell of a man. He contacted the others, to inform them and ordered for them to retrieve your body to prepare a proper burial. Risotto examined your body; he tried to look past your wounds and bruises and just see YOU, but he couldn’t get the image of what happened for this outcome to occur. A burning raging fire was engulfing his senses. Whoever did this to you will regret they ever born. By the time Risotto got his hand on them, they will grovel at his feet and BEG for Risotto to end their life. And he wouldn’t give it to them and would make sure they experience the pain you felt and the pain he felt but refused to admit. When the others arrived, Risotto ordered them to look after your body. He couldn’t allow himself to leave you alone anymore. He watched as Illuso and Ghiaccio carefully carried your body to the car. Prosciutto asked him what he indeed to do, concerned for Risotto. “This mission is still not complete. I will personally handle it,” his voice grave and venomous. Prosciutto watched in silence as his leader used Metallica to disappear. The blond couldn’t fault the man for handling grief in his own way.

Prosciutto: When Risotto called to tell him they found you, his stomach dropped because he knew what it meant. Risotto’s tone was enough for him to put it all together. They had your body, but your life was gone. Everything Risotto was saying was white noise; he wasn’t registering it at all. Mindlessly, he hung up on him and walked with listless movements back to HQ, to be with you. His trembling hands dug through his pocket cigarette pack. He struggled to turn on his lighter, growing more and more irate and ended up burning himself. He cursed and screamed, smashing the lighter on the ground. He began to walk away but quickly turned back to pick up the lighter. It had been a gift from you. He traced his thumb over his name engraved on the metal. He swallowed the lump in his throat and hurried home. Pesci was waiting, eyes red from tears. Under normal circumstances, Prosciutto would have lectured him for his open display, but right now Prosciutto envied him. Prosciutto shot him a look and walked past him to where your body was located. When he entered the room, Risotto and Ghiaccio were the only ones there, pensive. Ghiaccio walked towards him, placed a hand on his shoulder and exited. His eyes fell on you. Risotto took on the responsibility of informing Prosciutto as to what occurred. You had managed to exterminate most of the enemies but there wasn’t sufficient enough information on the gang you were tailing and this happened. “We’ve captured the leader of the gang. Formaggio and Illuso have him tied up in the basement.” Prosciutto eyes never left your body, memories of your time together flooded his mind. Risotto analyzed his subordinate, making sure it was okay to leave him alone. As he walked past Prosciutto, he was stopped by the blond’s sudden question. “Risotto, do you think they suffered?” Risotto turned to see Prosciutto looking at him, his blue eyes now filled with anguish. “I don’t know,” Risotto answered honestly followed by silence. “Risotto, I’ll be here for a while. But promise me something…that son of a bitch you have in the basement. He’s mine. I will personally end him.” Risotto nodded and left him alone. Prosciutto pulled up a chair and sat next to you, laying his head on your cold palm and finally letting tears fall.

Pesci: Prosciutto volunteered to be the one to tell Pesci and when he did, he saw what he expected. At first, Pesci looked confused, as if Prosciutto suddenly started speaking in a foreign language. Prosciutto repeated it to him. “They died.” Next, he had a look of despair which quickly turned to desperation. Asking Prosciutto if he was sure. That you told him that you’d come back successful, you never lied to him before so why would you start now. Aniki must have been confused or telling him some cruel joke or to toughen him up and make sure he didn’t break. That’s it! It was all a test to see if Pesci broke. Again Prosciutto said, “They died, Pesci,” firmer than before. Pesci fought as much as he could but couldn’t hold back his screams and tears. “Aniki, please tell me you’re lying. This is a test, right?” Pesci knew he was lying to himself now and wanted Prosciutto to lie too. Prosciutto grew angry at Pesci’s behavior and punched him. “Be a man and accept it, Pesci! They’re dead! This is the life of an assassin!” Pesci massaged his cheek and openly wept. He hunched into a ball and moaned and whimpered, Prosciutto anger quickly turning into sympathy. Even if this was the life of an assassin, you were still part of the team, and it hurt them all that you were gone. And it hurt Pesci the most, his kind heart and love for you making it all the harder to move on from. “Aniki,” Pesci whimpered, “C-can I see them?” wiping his tears away only for them to run down his face. Prosciutto nodded, placed his hand on his head, ruffled his hair, and wrapped his arms around his shoulder, leading him back to where you were located. They walked in pensive silence. “W-where they successful at least?” Pesci asked. Prosciutto smirked with pride. “Of course they were. They wouldn’t leave this world unless they did.” Pesci smiled as more tears fell. “I-I’m glad,” Pesci sobbed.

Formaggio: He got a call from Illuso who broke the news to him Formaggio couldn’t stop laughing. It was full of good humor, he laughed and laughed until he turned maniacal. Like hell you were dead. Illuso better stop fucking again. He can make fun of his stand all he wanted, but he better not fuck around about something involving you. When he gets a hold of Illuso, he’s going to kick his ass. “Formaggio, I know this is hard to take in, but-” Formaggio laughed again until he lost it. “AhahahaHAHA. SHUT THE FUCK, ILLUSO! IF YOU KEEP THIS SHIT UP, I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU. I’LL BREAK YOUR NECK!” Formaggio yelled into his phone, panting. He felt like his stomach as knotting. This is some fucked up joke. He was a fan of telling fucked up jokes, but this is one he couldn’t handle. Illuso was quiet on his end, waiting for Formaggio to compose himself even just slightly. “Formaggio, this isn’t something I’d joke about. Not to you.” Illuso voice was somber even sympathetic. “They…they were successful but it cost them their life…”Illuso continued. “I’m bringing them back to the base. I wanted to tell you so you’d be prepared…” Well wasn’t he fucking kind, Formaggio thought bitterly before he hung up without a word. Formaggio didn’t return right away; he needed a drink or 2 or 6 or 10. He wanted to forget and hopefully wake up and have it all be a stupid nightmare. Formaggio absence prompted Risotto to bring him back personally. He needed him to begin the grieving process in order to have him move forward. When he found Formaggio, he was in an alley, marinating in his own vomit. Risotto didn’t hesitate to throw the incapacitated man over his shoulder and take him home. Pesci was kind enough to change him out of his vomit soaked shirt to help him to be somewhat comfortable. When he came to, he refused to see you. Lashing out at anyone who suggested it. “That’s not them! It’s someone else!” He couldn’t accept that you were gone. He couldn’t accept the person that he loved so strongly and who loved him and his goofiness was gone. “Formaggio,” Prosciutto walked towards him to attempt to offer support as he always did. “You must accept it to truly heal. Formaggio threw a punch, missed, and fell to his knees. “Formaggio,” Risotto knelt next to him, placing a supportive hand on his hunched back. “We must continue to move forward even if we lose the ones we love,” Risotto said earnestly. It finally settled and Formaggio let it out, slamming his fists on the floor. He punched and punched and continued to punch until he was sure he broke his hand, screaming and cursing. You had finished off your target even if you lost your life, but now there was no one left for him to take his anger out on. How can he move forward without anything to hate other than himself for not protecting you?

Illuso: Your death served as a reminder to everyone outside of La Squadra as to why you were feared. Illuso search all of Italy for you and found valuable information as to where you may be. He knew once he was there and saw you were inside the mirror world. After all, no living thing can enter Mirror World unless he permitted it. You being there meant one thing, but he refused to say it or think it. You were dumped in some corner in some dirty, rat-infested room. Almost robotically, he took you into his arms and carried you home. He stared at your beaten face, his eyes losing every bit of life and warmth he had always reserved for you. He walked out into his room and walked directly into the bathroom. He gently removed you bloody, dirty, torn clothing, turned on the water and gently washed your lifeless body with stiff movements. He dried you off and dressed you in your favorite clothing. Once done, he took a long look at you before heading into the living room where Melone was looking at something on his laptop. “Melone, I have a favor. Watch [Name] for me.” Melone perked up. “So you found them? Molto be-” Melone stopped when he looked into Illuso’s cold eyes. “I have some unfinished business to take care of, so I’m leaving them in your care.” Before Melone could ask him anything, he disappeared. Melone gulped and walked to Illuso’s room, hesitating to look inside. When he turned the nob and saw you, he felt like his heart was being squeezed. That explains it…Melone thought, looking at you as sadness and sympathy surfaced in his heart. It ached for his dear friend and the lost love between you that could blossom no more. “Do not worry, [Name]. Illuso will make sure you can pass on in peace.”

Melone: He prided himself in always keeping his composure even when surrounded by death. He wanted to maintain this image even when it came to finding out your fate. His face never fell, but the twitch of his lip couldn’t escape Risotto’s trained eyes. He continued to inform Melone about the failure of the solo mission. A twitch again, this time his hand. They recovered your body, and Prosciutto had already begun the funeral arrangements. “Molto bene. It seems you all have taken care of things,” Melone praised though there was a hint of venom behind his words. Risotto’s eyes narrowed but didn’t want to press it. Melone had his own way of grieving and must leave him to that. “They will not be with us for long before the undertaker arrives. You may do what you like with that information.” Melone left without a word, closing the door roughly. He let himself into your room, where your body laid. It was like you were sleeping despite the cuts on your face that weren’t there when you left. Melone crawled into bed with you and curled up as closely as he could without disturbing you. His eyes softened the more he stared. “You truly are a heartbreaker, Amore. I knew you were the moment I set eyes on you and fell in love.” His eyes grew moist and fought back tears. “How could you leave me alone in this world? But I could never remain mad, Amore. Not at you.” His voice trembled. He laid there until he fell asleep. The next morning, the undertaker had arrived to take you away. Melone had the thought of killing him as he watched him, but he knew he had to let it happen. Melone tried to act with cool indifference, but the others chastised him for his behavior. You were lovers, so why is he acting like this doesn’t affect him? As Melone witnessed as the undertaker disappeared around the corner with your body in tow. Melone followed Risotto back into his office. “The mission they were assigned, it’s still active, no? May I request it?” Melone asked, eyes burning with determination. Risotto pondered, your fate prompting him to reconsider the number of individuals involved. Risotto agreed on the condition Melone worked alongside Ghiaccio at least, Melone accepted without hesitation. Now all he had to do was convince Ghiaccio to let him be the one to end the lives of the scum who took you.

Ghiaccio: He managed to extract the information he needed to find you, but by the time he reached you, it was too late. You laid in a pool of your own blood, surrounded by armed men who were ready to take him on once they did you in. He was only a couple of minutes too late and this happened? The moment Ghiaccio’s eye landed on you, he lost control, freezing everything besides your lifeless body. He turned a small warehouse in the middle of Italy into a frozen tundra. There as no life there, not yours, not the armed men, and he was sure he had died too. Ghiaccio didn’t know how to process everything. When he walked to your body, he pushed the frozen men to the ground, smashing them to pieces. It didn’t satisfy him though. He felt numb, his face contorting in pain. As he walked closer, it was getting harder to breathe. His breathing was becoming ragged and he was wheezing. What the hell? Why was his chest hurting and he was sweating bullets. The room was spinning and he was getting dizzy. He crashed to the ground and looked at you through foggy glasses and hot tears. He dry heaved and held his stomach. Fuck…He was having a panic attack. He was having a panic attack? How? He was a cold-blooded assassin. Sure he loved you, but enough to feel this way? He tried to suppress the rage, pain, and agony that was threatening to erupt. “Oddio…” Melone managed to pry the frozen door open only to find Ghiaccio clenching his chest as tears ran down his face. He had never seen Ghiaccio like this and didn’t have a clue as to what to say, fearing that he may lose control. Ghiaccio looked away and fought to control himself. He muttered curses under his breath and got up on shaky legs. He tried to play it cool as he wiped his tears away. “I-if you can’t tell, there’s no one left alive.” Ghiaccio sniffed. “All that’s left arranging a funeral for [Name].” Ghiaccio picked them up, bridal style. Your blood was soaking his white shirt but he didn’t care. As he put you in his car, he couldn’t let you go. Melone watched in silence before offering to drive even if it meant leaving his motorbike. Ghiaccio nodded and sat in the passenger, placing you on his lap. He cradled and held you close. You were still warm and he shut his eyes tightly as more hot tears escaped.

Sorbet and Gelato: Through their investigative skills they managed to find out information about what happened to you, but it wasn’t the information they wanted. “This has to some fucking joke, right Sorbet?” Gelato looked at his partner to agree with him but his look said it all. You were killed and there was nothing else that could be done. Gelato lost his cool and began throwing things against the wall and kicking chairs and desks, the furniture standing no chance against Gelato’s inhuman strength. Gelato breathed, “Can��t we catch a break? Gelato’s voice shook and Sorbet went to him and held him. They needed each other more than ever. They had to support each other as they both let the pain and sadness consume them. Sorbet rubbed his back, holding each other in silence, allowing them to think about their next move. The ones responsible for your death are still out there and there was no way they were going to let them get away with it. They pulled away and looked into each other eyes, leaning in and press a kiss on each other’s lips. “We’ll keep investigating and make sure those bastards know exactly how we feel, Gelato.”

#anonymous #risotto nero #prosciutto #pesci #formaggio #illuso #melone #ghiaccio #sorbet #gelato #jojo hcs #my writing #tw death #tw violence

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deadlydeadlyclass · 5 years

Text

I didn’t know what love was until I met you

Saya x Maria fanfiction

4000+ words. ||| A03

Mature!!! This work contains (not explicit) smut.

Summary: A lotta pining from Saya, angsty (but with a happy, fluffy ending) and Chico just being Chico.

“Saya... Saya!” There’s fingers clicking in her face, and when she comes to reality again, Maria is staring at her, with a furrow in her brow.

“Yeah? What is it Maria?”

She shrugs, “Well, nothing, but you weren’t paying attention to me.”

“Yes I was.”

She wasn’t. She’d gotten distracted, again. It’s just, when Maria is talking, or not talking, or just looking at something, Saya can’t help but be entranced. Maria is entrancing, she’s beautiful. It’s really hard not to stare at someone like her.

She knows they could never be together. They’re from two very different criminal organisations, Maria’s in a relationship, they’re both girls - it would be impossible. Society wouldn’t allow it, their families wouldn’t allow it (who even knows if Maria is into women).

If they were different, in different situations - if they weren’t assassins, weren’t killers, then maybe, maybe they could have a chance. Saya has always said fuck being normal, but if it gave her Maria, she’d be the most ordinary and boring person ever.

But nothing about them is normal, and Master Lin has told her one too many times that loving someone will be her own demise.

To review, a relationship with Maria isn’t something Saya can pursue it, so why is she even thinking about it?

Why does she allow herself to be kept up at night at the image of Maria smiling, that when Maria touches her, she feels the ghost of that warmth for the rest of the day. That’s she’s so in love with Maria, she doesn’t know when her feelings became more than a crush.

Saya’s always been one to hide her feelings, and while she wishes she could be one of those people in films who never realise that they love someone until the very end, self-awareness is extremely crucial in assassination, so Saya has known since the first time her heart beat a little too quickly when Maria was around.

“Saya! Hello? Are you serious?” Maria snaps, “Fine then. Since you’re not listening to me, I’m going to bail.”

“No no no no,” Maria gives her a weird look, which makes sense, because Saya has never sounded that desperate before, “I promise, I’m listening now.”

Her eyes glint, “So you admit that you weren’t listening to me before?” Her tone worries Saya that she’s actually annoyed, but Maria’s small smirk says otherwise.

Saya rolls her eyes. Seriously, what is it about Maria that makes her so unaware of everything?

“It’s fine,” she laughs, “I’ve got to go anyway. Chico’s waiting, so...” Maria doesn’t finish her sentence. They haven’t spoken much about her and Chico, but Saya can tell it’s not like any normal relationship.

“I’ll see you later, right?” Maria asks.

“Of course.”

They don’t actually see each other. It was dinner time when Saya noticed Maria and Chico leaving the school, and she never saw them after that.

Once again, in the middle of the night, Saya is thinking about the conversations she had with Maria that day. It’s a nice way to fall asleep, when Maria the last thing on her mind.

Except that it’s taking her way too long to fall asleep, and Saya can tell she’s probably not going to sleep at all if she doesn’t do anything. A late night shower could help relax her enough, maybe (there are no fights to get the bathroom, as there usually are in the morning) so she gathers her things, sneaks down the hallway.

At this time at night, it’s rare anyone will be in there, but, as Saya opens the door, she hears the tap running.

There’s quiet sobbing, and Saya almost turns to leave. It’s a pretty awkward situation to be in, for both of them, but hopefully the crier will leave after Saya steps in (people are pretty intimidated by her). As she finally gathers the courage to go inside, the crying has stopped, and there’s a hiccup or two.

As much as she tries to pretend there’s no one in with her, curiosity gets the better of her, and Saya decides to look at whoever is having a breakdown at three o’clock in the morning.

The girl’s hair is dishevelled, her dark curls wild and her crimson headband out of place. She’s hunched over the sink, desperately washing something off her face.

Saya’s heart stops, her lips parting to speak.

“What happened?”

Maria gasps, obviously started, like she was so focused she hadn’t heard anyone come in.

“Nothing.” She coughs, “It’s nothing.”

Saya takes a hard look at her. She’s never seen her makeup look so messy, with mascara running down her cheeks, her signature red lipstick spread around her mouth. She’s still in the (very cute) dress Saya saw her leave in. Except, when she looks near the hem, there’s a sort of splatter. Maria’s looking at it too, biting her lip.

“Not mine.” Her voice is trembling, like she’s one second away from breaking down again as she pushes past Saya.

“Maria! Wait!”

She’s already out the door, her footsteps loud in the corridors, and Saya can’t bring herself to chase after her. Seeing her like that, is too painful.

Saya didn’t get any sleep that night, and when she passes Maria between classes, it seems she suffered the same fate.

She needs to know what happened. She would normally just find Maria, but somehow, even though they have different classes, Chico manages to be by her side, never leaving Maria alone. The only time there is no Chico with her is when Maria goes to the bathroom. Saya immediately follows.

“Maria? I saw you come in here. We need to talk.” She checks the stalls, making sure that no one else is in there.

Maria is also doing the same. She stands in front of Saya with her arms crossed.

“What happened last night?”

“I already told you.” She snaps, “It was nothing.”

Saya fights the urge to snap at her that what she’s saying is bullshit.

“There was blood on your dress.” Maria looks in the corner, and Saya can tell she wants the conversation to end as soon as possible. “We’re friends. You can trust me. You know that, right?”

“I... I know that.” She wipes at her eyes, crossing her arms again after. She seems to really consider what Saya said, and after an agonising silence, she takes a deep breath, “It was... just a cartel thing. Except Chico didn’t tell me that’s what we were doing, when he said he wanted to take me out for dinner. It was so horrible, Saya, but it helped, seeing you last night.” It was nice to have a reminder that Chico isn’t the only person Maria has at King’s Dominion. She manages a smile, but Saya just frowns.

“Look, I know I’m not supposed to pry, but why do you stay with Chico, after everything he’s done to you?”

Maria smiles, sadly, “It’s complicated.”

“You hate him, don’t you?”

Maria’s lip’s purse.

“Who doesn’t.”

Saya just stares at her, confused. Maria shifts uncomfortably - it’s common knowledge that she doesn’t like being questioned, and Saya has probably overstepped her boundaries.

“Even if I did break up with Chico, which shouldn’t even matter to you,” Maria starts, her tone becoming defensive, “I’d never be able to escape him, Saya, or the cartel. There’s no saving me, and it would be easier if you tried not to care.”

Saya feels a rage come over her.

“I can’t do that, Maria! I can’t stand it when you’re with him. I can’t stand watching you with someone who doesn’t even care about what you want. You deserve so much more than Chico.”

“You really think so? Really? I’m just as bad as he is. I’ve killed, I’ve hurt people.”

“At this school,” Saya scoffs, “we all have.”

Maria shakes her head.

“I’m crazy.”

Saya steps closer, until she is impossibly close to Maria. She brings a wavering hand to Maria’s face, cupping her cheek (Maria’s the one comfortable with touching others, not Saya, so it’s done with a bit of awkwardness).

“You’re not crazy. You never have been. You’re perfect.”

Maria’s expression is only hurt.

“Please don’t say things like that, when we both know that it’s not true.”

Saya knows there’s no way Maria can accept that yet, even though all she wants to do is scream that Maria is the most perfect person in the world.

“Things can getter better for you.” She tries, “Let me help you.”

Maria’s hand goes to where Saya’s is, and when Saya thinks she’s going to pull her hand away from her, Maria just rests her palm against Saya’s hand, so that she’s cradling her face even more. She smiles.

“Thank you, Saya.”

Surprisingly, Maria doesn’t move. She grasps her hand tight, smiling, staring into Saya’s eyes.

They keep eye contact - Maria is looking at her so intensely, it makes Saya feel like she could faint.

Her heart is pounding, Maria’s eyes are flickering shut, she’s leaning in, slightly, and then...

Someone is banging loudly on the bathroom door.

“Maria!”

She immediately steps away from Saya, flinching at the sound of Chico’s voice. She stares at the door, and Saya grabs her hands, trying to soothe her.

“It’s okay, I’ll go out first.” Briskly, she walks to the door, seeing Chico just waiting there, “What the fuck are you doing?”

The glare he gives her is evil. “I’m just waiting for my girl. I saw her go in with you. Maria!” He shouts, hitting the door again, “Hurry the fuck up.” “What is wrong with you! I swear you are such a piece of shit.”

“Stay out of my business, Kuroki girl. Unless–”

“Unless what?”

The tension is thick, and Saya is seriously prepared for a fight, because he looks so angry and she is so done with him - she’ll put him in his place.

She can’t, however, because Maria rushes out, looking over at them apprehensively as she stands between them.

“What was taking so long?”

“Sorry Chico,” She looks at Saya for a split second, then back to him, “it won’t happen again.”

“You’re right about that.”

Saya can’t watch any more. She takes a quick step towards him, flexing her hand to deliver the maximum damage she can. She’s about to, when suddenly Maria is grabbing her wrist. She shakes her head, mouthing ‘no’ when Chico’s head is turned.

“Let’s go, Chico.”

They turn to leave, his arm going possessively around her shoulders, and Saya feels a pain in her chest at having to see Maria walk off with him again.

Lessons are finally over for the day, and Saya feels like shit. She hasn’t been able to stop thinking about Maria, how horrible it must be for her to be with someone she doesn’t love, how Saya promised to help Maria, and she doesn’t have any idea on how she can do that.

She makes her way over to her locker, putting some of her books away.

“Hola Saya.”

She shuts the locker door way louder than she needed to, but it’s worth it to see Maria’s face.

“Hey.”

There’s no Chico with her, weirdly enough, but then Saya notices as Maria looks around her, and she guesses she managed to sneak away during dinner.

“Do you want to hang out tonight,” Maria says, “in my room?”

As much as she wants to throw herself into Maria’s room (heaven, Saya could describe it as, because it’s the one place where Maria is everywhere), it’s not that simple. Saya looks at her skeptically.

“What about Chico? We weren’t exactly on civil terms a few hours ago.”

“He won’t be here tonight. He’s... got something to do.” At least this time, the cartel doesn’t need Maria to be with them. She’s free, even if it’s for only one night.

Saya grins, brightly, “Then I’ll see you tonight.”

Maria does this little thing, almost as if she’s watching Saya, trying to catch every little detail about her, and Saya has never seen Maria look at her this way before.

“I can’t wait. See you later.” She gives her usual flirty wave before she walks off, leaving Saya breathless.

Spending evenings with Maria is always great. It’s just the two of them - talking, laughing, dancing. They have nowhere to be, no responsibilities, so Maria always dresses comfortably - low cut shirts and dresses. And knowing that Chico won’t be able to interrupt them makes everything so much better.

When Saya gets back to her room, she embarrassingly tries to pick out clothes more decent than her usual style. Before Chico interrupted, it seemed like something was going to happen, and although Saya has been telling herself she can’t ever have a chance with Maria, she thinks she deserves to try.

The music is already playing when Saya knocks on the door. Maria answers, immediately grabbing Saya’s hand and twirling her inside.

“Saya! Hey! Are you excited for our girls’ night?”

“Am I ever,” She laughs, lifting her arm to twirl Maria as well.

“Good.” She pulls her over to the bed, turning down the music first. “I just wanted to talk to you first.”

“Yeah, sure. What about?”

Maria hesitates, before continuing, “When we were together, earlier, were you really going to hit Chico?”

“Yeah,” she admits, regretfully, “I’m sorry though.” She should’ve thought about what she was going to do - things would only have been worse for Maria if she had actually done it.

“Don’t be.”

“You were right to stop me.”

“Believe me, I wish I didn’t.”

They laugh, and then Maria turns on the music again.

Maria loves dancing, and because of that, Saya does too. She loves everything about the way Maria’s body sways to the music, how her lovely, thick curls bounce around, how Maria always looks the most blissful she could be.

They dance, and dance, holding each other the entire time. Saya has lost count of the songs that have played, and when the music stops, both of them are panting.

“Don’t you just love dancing?” Maria asks, giggling.

“Only if you’re my partner.”

Saya can’t stop smiling. This is what she loves the most. When there’s nothing holding them back, no gangs, no expectations, and they can be who they truly are together.

When Maria speaks next, her voice lowers, like their conversation is a private one, like no one else should be able to hear what she’s saying to Saya.

“Saya, I... want to thank you for standing up for me.”

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re my best friend. You mean the world to me.”

“I feel the same way. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

The way she’s looking at her, so vulnerably, makes Maria look so beautiful.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you either.” She whispers.

It’s quick, but Saya notices. Maria’s eyes flicker to her lips, and Saya’s sick of holding herself back.

She steps even closer to Maria, and Maria follows. Maria reaches out for her hand, clutches it. There’s no way Saya’s imagining this.

Everything would change, but maybe it could change for the better.

So fuck it.

She leans in slow, just to give Maria time to move away, but Maria just stands still. When Saya looks up, Maria has her eyes closed, a waiting expression on her features.

Saya’s heart is beating harder than it ever has before.

“Are you sure?”

Maria sucks in a breath, her own hand grasping Saya’s short hair.

“Please.”

Who is she to deny Maria anything.

When their lips touch, it’s the most perfect thing in the world. Maria makes a small noise, sinking into the kiss, and Saya just grips her tighter.

“Wow,” she says, when they break apart.

“Wow.” Maria echos her, then pulls her in again for more.

Kissing Maria is addictive, Saya can’t stop, she doesn’t want to stop, all she wants is to hold Maria forever, and it seems she feels the same way, by the way her hands grip Saya’s cheek as their kisses get more intense.

They stumble around the room, unable to break away from each other, until they reach the bed. Maria lightly pushes Saya onto the soft mattress and silky duvet, crawling on top of her.

At that moment, Saya feels she could die happy - with Maria’s warmth all around her, feeling her weight on top of her, just Maria overloading her senses.

Her hands go round to Maria’s waist, slipping up just slightly, so that she is gripping her bare skin. Using their positions, Saya flips their position, and Maria sits up slightly, allowing Saya to grab her shirt and slip it over her head.

She needs a moment, just to stare at Maria. Her smooth, perfect skin, glowing, enticing her. It’s not like Saya has never seen Maria in just a bra (the showers are hardly private), but it’s the first time it’s ever been just for her.

Her red lipstick is smudged, her lips swollen, and Saya wants to ruin her more.

She kisses her again, her lips slowly travelling from Maria’s jawline to her neck. Maria grips Saya’s head, holding her there, as if Saya would ever stop, not when Maria’s breathing starts to become laboured when Saya traces her nose along her collarbone.

Even though she wants to leave hickeys on Maria’s neck, she can’t – they’re too noticeable, and she knows this’ll have to be a secret between them.

She’ll just have to settle for something else.

Her hands snake behind her back, finding her bra clasp. She pauses, looking at Maria. Her blue eyes are shining, and Saya is drowning.

“Can I?”

Maria nods, her head shaking frantically. There’s nothing she’s wanted more than to just feel Saya.

Saya leans back after unclasping, watching as Maria slides the straps down her shoulders. Her breath hitches, Saya’s stare burning deep into her.

She doesn’t know what it’s like for someone to stare at her and truly find all of her beautiful. Sure, she’s always been known as the pretty one at school, but that doesn’t matter, not when everyone thinks she’s insane. But Saya, the way she looks at her, makes Maria feel powerful and important, not just a rug for Chico to walk all over or a weapon for the cartel to use.

She truly feels loved.

“I’ve never known someone as beautiful as you.” Saya says, and Maria feels a sudden urge come over her.

“I need to see you too.”

She reaches for Saya’s shirt, pulling it up, slowly exposing her skin and tattoos. Maria runs her hands along her stomach and sides, while Saya tries to hide how nice it feels, to have Maria touching her like this after months of dreaming about it.

Maria falls back down on the bed, pulling Saya with her, her arms caging Maria as she supports herself.

Slowly, she lowers herself, her voice low in Maria’s ear.

“What do you want me to do to you?” She wants to know what Maria likes, to know exactly what to do that will leave Maria breathless and sated, but she just goes quiet.

“I... I don’t know.” Maria doesn’t know what she likes, because she’s never had someone to guide her, who genuinely cared about her pleasure.

It’s been a while since she’s felt anything with anyone, until Saya. When Chico kisses her, she only feels like crying. Whenever he does anything else, she just waits for it to be over.

With Saya, she feels like she’s starting fresh. She’s never been with a woman, she’s never been with someone she actually has a connection with, and after all she has done with Saya so far, she doesn’t know what comes next.

“We don’t have to do this if you’re not sure.” Maybe Maria’s starting to have doubts, since she’s been quiet for far too long, and Saya needs Maria to know that she doesn’t have to do anything she doesn't want to.

“It’s not that. I want to Saya, so, so much. I want to take this step with you. It’s just...” She looks up into Saya’s eyes, and Saya understands. Maria, admitting she doesn’t have a clue on what to do, that she wants Saya to take the lead, to teach her.

“It’s okay.” she strokes Maria’s cheek, “Lie down.”

Maria listens, closing her eyes as she feels Saya shifting around the rest of her clothing. She takes a deep breath of anticipation, feeling her nerves frying as Saya shifts to the end of the bed, lowering herself to Maria.

Maria is a very expressive person, but Saya didn’t expect Maria do be this responsive to her.

She just can’t stay still - she moans, whines, whimpers, and when Saya does something new, she just melts, over and over.

“Don’t stop. Never stop.” Maria cries, and Saya almost scoffs, because she doesn’t think she could if she wanted.

At one point, she’s muttering in Spanish, and Saya desperately wants to know what she’s saying, has never wanted to understand Spanish more than that moment.

At least her name sounds the same in both languages.

Maria’s struggling for breath as Saya continues her ministrations. She’s never felt like this, grasping at the bedsheets, because she needs something to hold on to, lest she floats out of her own body. She doesn’t know if she’s ever felt like this, so, so...

Her voice rises, her eyes squeeze tight, she’s scrabbling at anything, and Saya keeps going throughout it all. Saya, the future valedictorian, the star student, getting A’s in all her classes, has never felt so proud of herself, for making Maria happy (and she hopes she can do more of that soon).

Afterwards, Maria feels boneless, blissful.

Saya can see she’s too tired to barely move, so she takes the duvet, pulling it over her, sitting close. She almost thinks Maria’s fallen asleep, but then she feels her searching for her hand.

“Lie with me.” Maria murmurs, and Saya doesn’t hesitate to climb into the bed, turning to face her.

“You are so beautiful, Maria.”

“You are too.”

They’re quiet, content with just looking at one another. Then, Maria starts to trace over the tattoos on Saya’s arm. Her fingers swipe delicately, over every curve, over every design on her arm.

Saya hums with approval, very much enjoying the peaceful scene.

However, when Maria slides over to her chest, tracing the patterns on her collarbones, it’s hard to concentrate anymore, especially when Maria’s hand lies flat against her chest.

“Your heart is beating so fast.”

“Sorry.”

Maria rolls her eyes kindly, lightly pinching Saya’s cheek, before going back to her tattoos. They’re art, perfect art - Saya is art, she was made to be admired, and Maria finally has an opportunity to do just that.

Saya shivers, releasing a shaky breath, goosebumps prickling on her skin. It occurs to Maria that in what they have done, Saya hasn’t benefited at all.

And she wants to so bad, wants to touch Saya, make her feel just as she made Maria feel, but she doesn’t have any clue on how to reciprocate (she never even thought about women in that way until Saya).

Saya notices when Maria’s hand simply rests on her chest, that Maria is deep in thought. She sees the guilty expression she’s wearing, how she’s looking at Saya, and then she makes the connection.

“It’s okay, Maria. You don’t have to worry about doing... this back yet. But,” she takes Maria’s hand, placing it on her own cheek, “if you were going to, just do to me what you’d do to yourself.” Maria guesses it makes sense. Who better to navigate a woman’s body than another woman?

Maria ponders, and then she brings herself against Saya, hard, almost knocking her down with the force. She reaches recklessly for her, as her fingers reach into the hem of Saya’s pants, kissing her messily.

She’s hesitant, but also somehow direct. She strokes, clumsily, just a bit rougher than Saya is used to (not that she minds), but it doesn’t matter. Quickly, her breathing turns laboured, she’s losing her senses, and it only gets worse when Maria can see her effects on Saya. She grows firmer, more confident, more determined - she leans closer, nipping her teeth along Saya’s neck, a hand going to palm at her bra. All the stimulation makes Saya shake. Then, Maria just does something, and Saya breaks, grasping Maria’s wrist, so she doesn’t stop. She chases the feeling, and when the world finally comes back to her, she sees Maria staring at her, with wide eyes and parted lips, like she’s in awe.

When Maria pulls her fingers away, she finds they are glistening. She holds her hand still, with a sort of awkwardness, because what is she supposed to do with Saya’s... It’s a little embarrassing, but, luckily, Saya saves her, grabbing her own t-shirt to wipe at Maria’s hand. Maria blushes, and when Saya is done she throws the shirt to the floor and takes Maria’s hand.

“Don’t you need something to wear outside?”

“Shit!” It’s not like she can walk around the halls wearing a t-shirt with that on it, especially if she’s coming out of Maria’s room.

“Don’t worry, you can borrow something of mine, carino.”

Maria chuckles as Saya’s fingers stroke soothingly along her knuckles, and Maria finds herself leaning in, sweetly planting her lips on Saya’s.

Thanks for reading :)

#saya x maria #maria salazar #saya kuroki #chico #deadly class

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oveliagirlhaditright · 5 years

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Summary: Logan convinces Max to get a new catsuit, figuring the Familiars and public know her look too well. What neither of them realized was that this outfit was a trap from the Breeding Cult, meant to get rid of Max's immunity to the comet. And when they storm White's base, this becomes apparent when the suit is triggered and Max nearly dies. But then Logan comes and absorbs the effects.

Author’s Note: This plot is... weird. I'm not even going to deny it. But I had another account where I wrote LoMax fanfiction, but have deleted it. And even though you don't see it on this account, I feel like I exhausted every LoMax idea I could think of on that one. Which means I sort of have to think out of the box now to get inspired for them. And I want to be inspired for them. But despite the weirdness, I hope you'll all find a pretty good tragic piece here.

Speaking of which... I didn't want to kill Logan (and yes, this fic kills Logan. Warning you now), because I love love love him and he and Max are the OTP to rule all OTPs. But this is what the muse hit me with. -shrugs- I blame it on me just watching Wesley's death in Illyria's arms on Angel the Series.

Anyway, happy Dark Angel year! Which was really why I wanted to finally post something for Lomax/the fandom again!

“I don’t wanna hear it, Alec. I don’t wanna hear how it was apparently always wrong for me to love Logan… Because he was just looking out for me again, in trying to find a way for me to stay off the Breeding Cult’s radar—…and for me to stay away from him, if that’s what I really wanted—and he died for it! So save your ‘I told you sos!’”

Max wasn’t sure if she was actually being fair with this. Because maybe in having lost Rachel, Alec would understand what she was going through and know not to go there. When she’d told him about Ben, he’d been silent… Hadn’t he?

Well, even if that was true, Max was too livid to give him the benefit of the doubt right now—or to give him with anything for that matter. She wished they weren’t friends, and that they’d never met. Because maybe if they hadn’t, none of this would have ever happened.

All Max wanted to do was curl up on Logan’s couch and die herself. And she did do the former.

Hours Earlier

“So… Why do you think I need a blue catsuit again?” Max asked, as she slid into said outfit in Logan’s bathroom: somewhat remining her of the night she met Mia. But Max refused to think on that now, since she and Logan had actually been good then—all things considered—and now they weren’t.

Logan sighed—Max could hear this with her cat-like ears—before he rolled closer to the door in his wheelchair, presumably so she could hear him even better.

“Because, Max… The Familiars know too much about you now. And what you look like. The public, too, for that matter. This way, you can hopefully change your look enough that people won’t necessarily notice you on missions. I also bet White and his crew think you’d be too arrogant to alter your suit at all. So they probably won’t even think it’s you in this blue suit for a long time.”

There were a lot of holes in this logic, Max knew. But she wasn’t willing to argue with Logan about it today: not when he was being nice and trying to do something to protect her.

But Max wondered if that was all it was. She got the sense, that—despite everything—he preferred the woman she’d been a year ago. And that by even moreso taking her away from that image, he’d be more okay with their breakup.

And if that was the case, Max wanted to kill him… It wasn’t his fault, of course. He still had no idea that she’d lied about wanting it to be over and being with Alec. But there was a selfish part of Max that had to know how he’d ever believed any of those things from her.

But none of this mattered right now, her inner-soldier chastised her. Breaking into White’s new facility was what was on the agenda… And keeping Logan far, far away from her as she did so.

But still… as Max came out of the bathroom and gave Logan a look, she found she couldn’t help poking fun at him like she’d used to.

“Next you’ll say that you expect me to wear red, white, and blue?”

Past Logan would have responded to that negatively, Max knew, in thinking that she was mocking his patriotism and desire to return America to its former glory… whatever that was. But the Logan who had been more chill this year than he had any right to be, just raised an eyebrow and asked, “What?”

Max laughed… and instantly hated herself for it, as she fell back into the bad routine of sitting on his computer desk while he typed away. “Nothing. You can mostly forget about it, Logan… It’s just that one of the few times I managed to go to school as a kid, we got quizzed about police officers. And one of the questions was if they wore red, white, and blue or not… for some reason. Wearing blue just makes me think of that now. Like, social justice warriors should wear some of our flag or somethin’.”

And while Logan didn’t quite chortle at this himself, he did smile at her as he looked at her the way he had when she’d first told him about OC and Diamond at Crash. “Becoming my field commander more and more, I see.”

Really, Max should have seen Logan bringing back that old joke from a mile away… but she hadn’t. And she was glad that she hadn’t, so she could again feel the kind of warmth she’d been craving ever since she left Hannah’s house.

“…Anyway, Logan… What can you tell me about this place that’s trying to manufacture the comet?” Max asked, once again reminding herself to get back to business. The fates of Logan, OC, Sketchy, Kendra, Herbal, Bling, and even Normal—God help her—depended on it.

And for that reason, Max figured there was a good chance she was going to die on this quest: for all that “a life for a life”, and “the universe needs to stay in balance” mentality. And since those muscle brutes wanted a world to themselves and were willing to die for it. But Max still wanted to be alive and kicking, damn it! There was still so much she wanted to do with her home girl, Joshua, her friends…even Alec, the transgenics, and Logan. Most of all Logan.

Logan’s lips formed into a thin line at her question, and Max could tell he was just as concerned as she was—but she tried not to let it show: deciding to adopt Zack’s sense of phony sentimentality, for just a moment—and it told her that as much as he’d been talking with certainty earlier, about how she would be working for Eyes Only again after this… he wasn’t so sure.

“…What’s there to tell? It’s an abandoned airstrip again. And the articles they’re using to try and manufacture the meteor are nasty. Some of these items were used to try and destroy the world before—via water, of all things—and I really wish you didn’t have to be around them. Bring Alec, if you have to. Joshua too, maybe… and whoever else. You guys should probably enter through a weak spot in the roof, land on the scaffolding and jump down to the operation’s center… There will be a few Familiar guards there I’m sure, but hopefully you can take them. Then destroy everything and get the hell out of there.”

Max didn’t have to be told twice. She nodded once, taking it all in that fast, and walked out on the man she loved once again.

But somehow, Max found herself stopping at the threshold this time and turning around. She didn’t really know why she was saying this now, but she was speaking the words: “Not kissing you the night we took down Manticore was the biggest mistake of my life.”

And then she was riding away from Fogle Towers on her Ninja: Logan’s gasp of breath at her news still greatly on her mind, as she headed the way of his savior. The way of Joshua.

…

Everything went to Hell in record time once the transgenics got to their enemies’ lair: Max, Alec, and Joshua had barely made it down from the ceiling before the water of the device had somehow sprung free and been drawn to Max. And at once, it had her seizing in a way she never had before and made her completely useless.

She tried to fight on—and to ignore the pain and the fear—in focusing on the sort of grim determination Jondy had had during their live ordinance drills from back in the day, but it was mostly to no avail. Joshua and Alec ended up kicking a lot of ass for Max… but all the ass kicking was on normal guards, not Snake Cult. Which told Max that this was a setup from the get-go, but then them outing their location so easily couldn’t have been anything else.

Ames White—the only bastard they were looking for who actually was here—just laughed and scurried away, before any of the three of them could catch him. No doubt he thought she was dead and that they’d won: since no one had extracted her blood yet, and nothing could pass on that cure for the real meteor now.

And wasn’t it her end? Even though Max wanted to punch the sky and say “no”, she was starting to doubt that it wasn’t…

And that was why Alec—via Joshua’s command—called Logan over, so he could come say goodbye to her… Her brothers told Max that they were too afraid to try and move her, in case they made her suffer anymore or so that didn’t kill her if leaving her untouched for a moment meant she would have been fine.

When Logan got there, that was when the strangest and worst thing of all happened.

If Max had thought anything would kill Logan, that was from some sort of allergic reaction… it would have been through the Virus. Of course…

Not through his sucking out whatever was in her new outfit into himself.

If Max wouldn’t have been dyingherselfthis instance—while holding Logan in her arms, and not even caring about the damned Virus because now this illness had somehow been passed to him and he needed to know she loved him—she might have ribbed him, for the fact that it had been hisidea for her to get these clothes…

But Max wouldn’t blame Logan for his own death—she never would—and this ensemble would have possibly helped her in two ways, if things had been different, but that didn’t matter now.

Right now? The catsuit she was wearing was disappearing from Max more and more, and leaving her in some sort of red outfit as what was rest of the blue (that was becoming less and less) seemed to rest against Logan in Max’s eyes

One of the Familiars had gotten the idiotic notion, that if they couldn’t beat her then to join her, Max was realizing now: which was how they’d made this… hoping Max would buy the new uniform—and rather foolishly, she had—and that when she’d put it on, it would render her no longer immune to the comet and cripple her? Surely in looking at her genetic code, and the remains of the last time this harbinger had been on the Earth, they had finally figured out what made her immune to it… and how to change that. They’d just needed one chance to infect her, and they’d found it.

…But they hadn’t been counting on the fact that someone who couldn’tbe healed by her immunity would be right by her side, and touch her, and negate it: since the immunity negater thought that if this person couldn’t be saved—and they couldn’t be—it had already done its job.

The furious part of Max—who hated that the love of her life was dying—wanted to despise him for this: that even in his last moments, Logan was still somehow being too big a person and leaving her behind… almost choosing the world over her. Again. But she knew that was ridiculous and shoved the idea down.

Logan hadn’t consciously decided this, after all, and in his last moments he didn’t need to hear these kinds of thoughts.

No.

Max just focused her attention on kissing every available piece of skin on him that she could find—something that she should have done a long time ago—as she held Logan’s hand.

And she would have even been content to die with him—and maybe she still would—if she didn’t already hear Alec begging her to leave since the police were here, and the anti-transgenic cry was already loud enough… And if she knew Logan wouldn’t come back and haunt her, if she didn’t get away now so she could save everyone.

“Logan… I love you,” Max said, with a tingle tear that landed on his cheek: It reminded her of the one she’d cried at Bennett and Marianne’s wedding, that Logan had seen… how she should have married him even back then! And Max chose to believe that his red face right now wasn’t from the sickness, but in blushing in thinking the exact same thing.

“Don’t ever doubt that for a minute… wherever you go, though I’m sure it’s Heaven. I- God, I never thought I’d say these words. It’s so embarrassing and cliché, but… I love you more than I thought it possible to love anything. And you’re the one who showed me how to love… I only pushed you away this last year because I was afraid of losing you. And I can’t believe it’s happening now!”

Logan squeezed Max’s hand here with a surprising strength. And even that took her aback, since she knew he didn’t have much of it left… as he was now turning purple. If only she knew what was even happening to him!

“I love you, too, Max,” Logan whispered, as tears streamed down his own face… that broke Max’s heart into a million pieces to see.

But at the same time… at least it meant he was taking this seriously. And he wouldn’t get to the Pearly Gates, knocking on God’s door, and only then stop to realize all he’d selflessly given up.

“I always have. Always will. And I’m sorry—But I’ll wait for you.”

And it was at this point that Max began openly sobbing like she had with Ben (because hadn’t the “I’m sorry” part been the exact words she’d said to Logan as she died? But unlike what had happened with her, she knew he wouldn’t come back). Logan reached out a hand to put on her face, but didn’t quite make it as he winced in pain.

“Little Fella, we need to go now!” Even Joshua was urging Max at this point, as he tried to pull her along—was Alec doing so too?—even as he stopped for a moment, stammered a few words, and let out a sad and lonely howl.

“…Max, I’m sorry. I really am. I liked the guy too, but I see White coming back now with a red version of his water thing. And if that’s the real comet they’ve manufactured, we’ve got to get plans to share your blood STAT, and-“

But Max paid the two of them no mind—fighting them both and breaking away just once, like she needed to.

“…Logan, if you—the great and powerful Eyes Only—are going to Heaven, then I don’t know how it will ever take me… But if I’ve ever believed in anything, it’s you. So I’ll have faith in you and wait for the moment we can be together again.”

And like she’d been wanting to do for solong—she leaned down and kissed his lips—enjoying it much more than she should have, since they’d been denied it for so long.

But the moment they’d come alive in this way, for the first time in a long time—perhaps even moreso than they ever had been before. And why did Max have visions of dancing behind her eyelids?—was exactly when life left Logan’s body.

And then all Max was aware of, was numbness.

…

The next thing Max knew after she slept—had she slept? When was the last time she’d ever done that?—was her laying around in Logan’s apartment like she owned the place, and really… she should have. God, why hadn’t she married him again?!—and Alec trying to reason with her… about something. But the subconscious part of her mind had blocked it from there, that was for sure.

That was when the conscious part of her mind snapped at Alec, and Max found herself heading back to Logan’s couch: the only place where comfortableness and truths lied.

And then Alec’s words in her ears from far away: “…I wouldn’t have said any of those things, Max.”

Then after Alec went away, Max heard the closing of the door to an Aztec and she cried.

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shatteredsisters-blog · 5 years

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Chapter 2: The Calm BeforeThe wind tugged at Sophie’s blonde hair, whipping against her face, making her scrunch her eyes. She sat criss-cross among Calla’s roots, waiting for Linh to show up. Sophie hadn’t expected to wait so long but was appreciative for the time she gained to sort out her maze of feelings.It was slightly refreshing, to have a moment to just think, to just breathe… And especially, refreshing to just live.“Miss Foster,” a familiar voice said from behind, “are you alright?”Sophie smiled and adjusted her head to see the small gnome. “I’m fine, Flori. I’m just waiting for… a friend.” A friend. Yes. Of course. Only a friend.“Would you like for me to sing to you? I recently composed a new song,” Flori questioned as she made her way to sit with the elf.“I… sure, while I wait.” Maybe she should wait just a little longer? The gnome opened her mouth for a melody to pour out, and almost instantly, the female Song twin appeared with a soft zap of light. Sophie almost leaped off the root she sat on, startled by the sudden appearance. Flori stopped singing and began to study the dark-haired girl. The blonde’s hands shot down from her lap to the ground so she didn’t fall over.Linh gazed at the other elf, a small smile flashing across her lips for only a moment. She then met eyes with Flori and beamed.“That’s a beautiful song,” she whispered, her words flowing like soft waves on a summer day, and which made Sophie’s skin tickle.Linh looked… Majestic, with her multi-layered white-and-blue dress that clung to her body, and little teal slip-ons that Sophie absolutely adored. And what else did Sophie adore? Well, of course— “Sophie! I… Uh, hello…” Linh stuttered as her silvery blue eyes met Sophie’s. Sophie looked away and blushed. The blue-eyed girl smoothed a hand down her dress and slowly walked over to the elf. “You, uh, look great today,” Sophie murmured awkwardly, glancing up at Linh’s face to see her reaction. To her relief, Linh smiled and looked down. “Thanks,” Sophie wanted to peel layers of skin off her face to try and hide her blush. She settled on nervously pulling out eyelashes. Linh sat down next to her, and Sophie felt a smile edge onto her face. Flori laughed softly, “I’ll be going, have a good time, you two.” The two girls smiled at the gnome and waved good-bye as she wandered away. After a moment, Linh turned to Sophie. “So… Want to meet Merla?” There was a hint of glee in the hydrokinetic’s pale blue eyes. Sophie tilted her head to the side, her brow furrowed, “Merla…?” “My murcat!” “Oh!” Sophie’s eyes popped open, “Oh… Of course!” A huge, adorable grin appeared on Linh’s face as she whirled a large, blue-stained glass tank that had large, graceful images of waves crashing down from what seemed to be thin air.Inside, a purple-blue scaly cat swirled around, it’s wide yellow eyes sparkling. Sophie couldn’t help but smile back at Linh.The fish-like feline blew a few bubbles and rubbed its scaly head against the glass. Linh beamed and turned her gaze back to the blonde elf.“Would you like to hold her?”Sophie smiled, “Sure.” A blonde empath stared wide-eyed down at the piece of paper he held in his hands. It was written messily, scrawled down like it was a last moment thing, with quick, non-rhyming words. But right now, Keefe could ignore that sad fact. This note might not even be by the Black Swan… It could be by whoever… Maybe even Sophie? Writing in the third person? He…doubted she would do that. Keefe ran a hand down the side of his face, fear coursing through him as his heart thrummed against his chest. He read the note again, and again and again and again, just to make sure what he saw was correct. The moonlark needs your help Where the forest shines brightest, Follow the Path of Petals, That most try to avoid,To where she shall be. Keefe had to breathe. The Moonlark was obviously Sophie. The few years spent with her had given him that bit of knowledge. Where does the forest shine the brightest? What does that even mean? And why did she need his help? Was she hurt?Keefe put his hand against his chest and sat down on the nearest chair, sinking into its cushiony haven. He racked his brain for any possible source of information, and absolutely nothing came up. He ran his hand through his hair, letting the oh-so-familiar motion calm him and let his mind relax.A hint of a memory, a spark, ignited in his brain, exploding into a vivid image of a book that he remembered reading not so long ago. Heller Kern, a majestic forest with a mysterious bright glowing light in the center. Multiple paths lead to the core, many dangerous and often a perilous trek. However, if you know where to look, there are a few that are safe, breathtaking, even. Many say that if you get close enough to the luminescence, you will hear the voices of those you love, those who make your heart sing in happiness. However, should you venture into the trees when you don’t love anyone, the light shall drag you in and your soul shall be at war with itself for all eternity, condemning it to never find peace.Heller Kern, a forest that was known only in whispers and the most ancient of texts.Keefe stopped reading after that short passage. He wasn’t supposed to have those books, and the English was especially hard to read. From what he understood, it was a shady place, and the images that decorated the pages where haunting, yet so… inviting. He’d never willingly set foot in that place, but if it means it’ll help Sophie, then he’ll fall into the darkest pits that only humans could conjure with their imaginations. He shook his head, shoving the off-topic thoughts to the side. Hopefully, the ‘path of petals’ wasn’t one of the ‘perilous treks’ and more of an easy one. But maybe the information was so old that the forest has changed and adapted since then? Keefe took a breath and walked through the familiar halls of the Shores of Solace, the place he still lived per his annoying father’s wishes, even after he graduated. He’ll stay here until he finds the perfect place for him to live out his life with whomever he ends up with. Even if it meant dealing with his arrogant, cold father. Keefe wrinkled his nose. Heller Kern was a human name, as the book was a human one. He wasn’t sure where the name stemmed from, but he vaguely remembered the name of it in the Enlightened Language. He stopped once he found the Leapmaster 5000. The glittering crystals began to spin around, and he called out, “Claralux!” The crystal lowered, and a beam of light shone next to him. He didn’t hesitate to allow the light to whisk him away, brushing him across the globe, dropping him right at the line of trees.The forest was just as creepy as he expected. The trees started small, but from where he could see, they grew thicker, taller, bigger, as the woods got deeper. There seemed to be a gentle light pulsing from the distance, calling for him, wishing to wrap him in its soft embrace. A familiar voice whispered to him; “Follow.” A voice he was supposed to hate. A voice that made his heart flutter and made a ghost of a smile appear on his lips. A voice that resurfaced some of the dumbest, yet happiest memories he could think of. A voice full of hidden anger and hurt, yet so much love and caring. “Follow,” it repeated, more insistently this time. So Keefe took a breath. And he followed.Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Keeper of the Lost Cities Series - Shannon Messenger, KOTLC Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Characters: Keefe Sencen, Tam Song, Linh Song, Fitz Vacker, Biana Vacker, Sophie Foster, Dex Dizznee Additional Tags: Kidnapped, Missing, kinda mean, i feel bad doing this to keefe oops, Angst Summary:

How broken do you have to be before you’re shattered?

Keefe Sencen has been taken. Snatched from what was meant to be a prank, he struggles to find his way home. The question is, where is home?

Tam Song is cracking. He’s the cause of this, or so he believes. He’s convinced he’s the reason Keefe is suffering, and it’s awakening feelings he’s so desperately shut in the depths of his mind.

Sophie Foster is panicking. One of her best friends is missing and his blood has been splattered. She wonders, what would happen if there is no blood left by the time she finds him?

Time is ticking. Hour by hour, there’s a chance Keefe will never come back, and the gang is scrambling to crack the clues and ominous hints left by the mysterious thieves.

Chapter 2 below the cut.

Chapter 2: The Calm Before

The wind tugged at Sophie’s blonde hair, whipping against her face, making her scrunch her eyes. She sat criss-cross among Calla’s roots, waiting for Linh to show up. Sophie hadn’t expected to wait so long but was appreciative for the time she gained to sort out her maze of feelings.

It was slightly refreshing, to have a moment to just think, to just breathe… And especially, refreshing to just live.

“Miss Foster,” a familiar voice said from behind, “are you alright?”

Sophie smiled and adjusted her head to see the small gnome. “I’m fine, Flori. I’m just waiting for… a friend.” A friend. Yes. Of course. Only a friend.

“Would you like for me to sing to you? I recently composed a new song,” Flori questioned as she made her way to sit with the elf.

“I… sure, while I wait.” Maybe she should wait just a little longer?

The gnome opened her mouth for a melody to pour out, and almost instantly, the female Song twin appeared with a soft zap of light. Sophie almost leaped off the root she sat on, startled by the sudden appearance. Flori stopped singing and began to study the dark-haired girl. The blonde’s hands shot down from her lap to the ground so she didn’t fall over.

Linh gazed at the other elf, a small smile flashing across her lips for only a moment. She then met eyes with Flori and beamed.

“That’s a beautiful song,” she whispered, her words flowing like soft waves on a summer day, and which made Sophie’s skin tickle.

Linh looked… Majestic, with her multi-layered white-and-blue dress that clung to her body, and little teal slip-ons that Sophie absolutely adored.

And what else did Sophie adore? Well, of course— “Sophie! I… Uh, hello…” Linh stuttered as her silvery blue eyes met Sophie’s. Sophie looked away and blushed. The blue-eyed girl smoothed a hand down her dress and slowly walked over to the elf. “You, uh, look great today,” Sophie murmured awkwardly, glancing up at Linh’s face to see her reaction. To her relief, Linh smiled and looked down. “Thanks,” Sophie wanted to peel layers of skin off her face to try and hide her blush. She settled on nervously pulling out eyelashes. Linh sat down next to her, and Sophie felt a smile edge onto her face. Flori laughed softly, “I’ll be going, have a good time, you two.” The two girls smiled at the gnome and waved good-bye as she wandered away. After a moment, Linh turned to Sophie. “So… Want to meet Merla?” There was a hint of glee in the hydrokinetic’s pale blue eyes. Sophie tilted her head to the side, her brow furrowed, “Merla…?” “My murcat!” “Oh!” Sophie’s eyes popped open, “Oh… Of course!” A huge, adorable grin appeared on Linh’s face as she whirled a large, blue-stained glass tank that had large, graceful images of waves crashing down from what seemed to be thin air.

Inside, a purple-blue scaly cat swirled around, it’s wide yellow eyes sparkling. Sophie couldn’t help but smile back at Linh.

The fish-like feline blew a few bubbles and rubbed its scaly head against the glass. Linh beamed and turned her gaze back to the blonde elf.

“Would you like to hold her?”

Sophie smiled, “Sure.”

A blonde empath stared wide-eyed down at the piece of paper he held in his hands. It was written messily, scrawled down like it was a last moment thing, with quick, non-rhyming words. But right now, Keefe could ignore that sad fact. This note might not even be by the Black Swan… It could be by whoever… Maybe even Sophie? Writing in the third person? He…doubted she would do that. Keefe ran a hand down the side of his face, fear coursing through him as his heart thrummed against his chest. He read the note again, and again and again and again, just to make sure what he saw was correct.

The moonlark needs your help Where the forest shines brightest, Follow the Path of Petals, That most try to avoid,

To where she shall be.

Keefe had to breathe. The Moonlark was obviously Sophie. The few years spent with her had given him that bit of knowledge. Where does the forest shine the brightest? What does that even mean? And why did she need his help? Was she hurt?

Keefe put his hand against his chest and sat down on the nearest chair, sinking into its cushiony haven. He racked his brain for any possible source of information, and absolutely nothing came up.

He ran his hand through his hair, letting the oh-so-familiar motion calm him and let his mind relax.

A hint of a memory, a spark, ignited in his brain, exploding into a vivid image of a book that he remembered reading not so long ago.

Heller Kern, a majestic forest with a mysterious bright glowing light in the center. Multiple paths lead to the core, many dangerous and often a perilous trek. However, if you know where to look, there are a few that are safe, breathtaking, even. Many say that if you get close enough to the luminescence, you will hear the voices of those you love, those who make your heart sing in happiness.

However, should you venture into the trees when you don’t love anyone, the light shall drag you in and your soul shall be at war with itself for all eternity, condemning it to never find peace.

Heller Kern, a forest that was known only in whispers and the most ancient of texts.

Keefe stopped reading after that short passage. He wasn’t supposed to have those books, and the English was especially hard to read. From what he understood, it was a shady place, and the images that decorated the pages where haunting, yet so… inviting. He’d never willingly set foot in that place, but if it means it’ll help Sophie, then he’ll fall into the darkest pits that only humans could conjure with their imaginations.

He shook his head, shoving the off-topic thoughts to the side. Hopefully, the ‘path of petals’ wasn’t one of the ‘perilous treks’ and more of an easy one. But maybe the information was so old that the forest has changed and adapted since then? Keefe took a breath and walked through the familiar halls of the Shores of Solace, the place he still lived per his annoying father’s wishes, even after he graduated. He’ll stay here until he finds the perfect place for him to live out his life with whomever he ends up with.

Even if it meant dealing with his arrogant, cold father. Keefe wrinkled his nose. Heller Kern was a human name, as the book was a human one. He wasn’t sure where the name stemmed from, but he vaguely remembered the name of it in the Enlightened Language.

He stopped once he found the Leapmaster 5000. The glittering crystals began to spin around, and he called out, “Claralux!”

The crystal lowered, and a beam of light shone next to him. He didn’t hesitate to allow the light to whisk him away, brushing him across the globe, dropping him right at the line of trees.

The forest was just as creepy as he expected. The trees started small, but from where he could see, they grew thicker, taller, bigger, as the woods got deeper. There seemed to be a gentle light pulsing from the distance, calling for him, wishing to wrap him in its soft embrace.

A familiar voice whispered to him; “Follow.”

A voice he was supposed to hate.

A voice that made his heart flutter and made a ghost of a smile appear on his lips. A voice that resurfaced some of the dumbest, yet happiest memories he could think of. A voice full of hidden anger and hurt, yet so much love and caring.

“Follow,” it repeated, more insistently this time.

So Keefe took a breath.

And he followed.

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ravennabriarhale-blog · 5 years

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Part 7: Self Images And Etc.

♕Describe the routine of a normal day for your character. How do they feel when this routine is disrupted?

Monday thru Friday Ravenna works from eight to four. Before work, she does yoga and meditates. On the weekend, she does whatever she wants. It’s really up in the air most of the time.

♕What is your character’s greatest strength as a person?

Ravenna has incredible energy for helping those around her. She will go to the ends of the earth to help whoever seeks her out. She was known as the best social worker in all of London before the apocalypse. She has an incredible ability to see problems in a deeper way, be compassionate about her approach, and find real long term solutions to them.

♕What is your character’s greatest weakness?

Her empathy can sometimes make her incredibly stubborn in her pursuit to help others. She will chase after someone to the ends of the earth to help them even if it puts her in danger. She can also be far too trusting, and she has been taken advantage of by many people.

♕If your character could change one thing about themselves, what would it be?

Trusting people who didn’t deserve her trust.

♕Is your character generally introverted or extroverted?

Extrovert

♕Is your character generally organized or messy?

Organized.

♕Name three things your character considers themselves to be very good at and three things they consider themselves to be very bad at.

Very Good- problem solving, compassion, and creating structure. Very Bad- letting go, moving on, and finding a center of gravity.

♕Do they like themselves?

Ravenna is pretty humble, but she is very proud of how many people’s lives that she helped.

♕What goal does your character most want to accomplish in their lifetime?

She wants to help as many people find peace, comfort, and happiness. She wants to die knowing that many people are going to think about her as someone who helped them in whatever way that she could.

♕Where does your character see themselves in 5 years?

At this time, she’s not entirely sure. She hopes that maybe she’ll have lots of friends. She’d like to find some balance in her life once again. Maybe have forgotten about Chad... or at least put him far behind her.

♕If your character could choose, how would they want to die?

Successfully helping someone.

♕If your character knew they were going to die in 24 hours, name three things they would do in the time they had left.

Most likely she’d get someone else to take over her job, and then spend the rest of the time hopefully with Joseph and Camila just having fun.

♕What is the one thing for which your character would most like to be remembered after their death?

Making many lives better.

♕What three words best describe your character’s personality?

Hardworking, thoughtful, and gullible.

♕What three words would others probably use to describe your character?

Fragile hard worker.

♕If you could, what advice would you, the player, give to your character? (You might even want to speak as if he or she were sitting right here in front of you, and use proper tone so he or she might heed your advice…)

I know you don’t want to hear this. I know you want to focus on what you could have done better to protect yourself. I know some part of you wants some way to blame yourself, because it gives you an illusion of control. But Ravenna what happened to you is not your fault. None of this was.

However, what happens from here is. If you let your past destroy you, that’s your fault. If you control everything and put it into something good, that’s your fault too. You are in control of what happens from here. Make sure that those years of suffering don’t erase all the good you have and might do.

#character challenge #self image etc #belleterredevelopment

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mojput-mypath · 5 years

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Naughty is allowed! / Zločestoća je dozvoljena!

SCROLL TO THE END FOR RANDOM PHOTOS / NEVEZANE FOTKE PO CIJELOM BLOGU

My tongue has no more restraint, I became naughty. Naughtier than usual. More open in expression, one could say.

I got cold feet with this new attitude. I say everything openly, I move strong through problems and challenges, but. But when I amass emotional strain, I hold it and hold until I pop. Not too abruptly, more like a popcorn in a slow motion video. I am struggling between the desire not to hurt others and self-empowerment. I developed the balls to say whatever I do not like, without the usual fear that I would be labelled as a bad person. Hard is the life of a spiritual seeker. It is super easy to have the concept how everyone should be exclusively good, which results in suppressing naturally occurring emotions, and then popping like popcorn in the end, leaving everyone in disbelief. Well.

Out of business reasons, I searched for various sources of spiritual jokes/expressions/posts, only to discover that most of them sound like self-help for sad people. My deepest apologies for the rare few that are truly smart and quite deep as spiritual expressions, but. But there is so much clichéd trash out there, it should all be banned.

I commented with meine Schwester Katina how people speak only to hear their own voices, intellectualising their conclusions, when rarely one honestly shares. Remember all those unforgettable and hilarious hillbilly stories on TV? Why are those so funny and why do they stick in our memory storages for ever? Because those people are truthful, simple and original. Guru says that whoever spends a lot of words and repetitively emphasises the same conclusions, actually shares from the intellect. While a heartfelt sharing transfers the meaning clearly by the mere presence of the other person, and in few words, if any. When people speak only from the intellectual level, they keep explaining to themselves something they most probably do not agree with from the bottom of their heart. The more often they hear themselves saying the same, the deeper they suppress the intuitive and honest thought/feeling.

Sun is shining wonderfully in Germany / Sunce sija k’o tepsija u Njemačkoj

It is difficult to see one’s own holes, one’s own disadvantages, our own smallness. Even more difficult is to admit it to ourselves, and the hardest is to show it to others. ThetaHealing taught me well by digging in one’s psyche and subconsciousness. You get a broader image of what is happening with the other person, and you can easily see what they are hiding from themselves. What it is they are trying to justify to themselves to protect their ego. You can read a person like an open book, but you cannot force them to see how their own pattern serves them. While the person sees the same pattern as something imposed from the outside. At the same time, you need to gently steer the person to go deeper and deeper into what they really do not wish to see.

Everyone creates their own world. Me and you look through the window and see a situation between two people. We hear the same words, we see the same gestures – and we both have an entirely different interpretation of what just happened, in accordance to all the impressions that made us into the people we are in this moment.

That same situation, can already tomorrow be different for both me and you, it can be seen and judged in another way. Everyone creates their own world. Or if it feels more comfortable: nature created these beautiful eyes through which we see the world as we do, as our inner nature tells us to: “It is not possible that I am responsible for everything that happened in my life!” Hmmmm. Essentially yes. Only our small mind, as it is not at all times connected to all that is (the cosmic intelligence, All That Is etc.), considers that something is being imposed on it, and that it is not possible that we create it all ourselves. Everyone creates their own world, by choosing to see it as we do. I repeat: four eyes, two pairs of ears, and two hearts can perceive an objectively identical situation as far as even diametrically opposite, through the filter of all we know, what we have experienced and our genetic material and yes, I will say it, oh yeah: OUR KARMA.

As we all know, karma, yup, she’s a bitch. Even the same, identical karma (if there is such a thing as identical karma) or the cause and consequence effect of this existence, can be differently interpreted by different people. Someone might say something is a blessing, the other person will say – a curse. Everyone creates their own world.

Jokes aside. I never could understand the need to evict certain people out of one’s life. I found it hard to understand why people stop communication forever with a person they dated. After having shared the good and the bad, even saliva, man – bye bye! My parents made this kind of decision (actually my mom did, dad had no choice in the matter), and maybe that is the reason why I kept making an effort not to burn any bridges. I did not like how things turned out between them. I guess every child wishes their parents to be always together and super happy. Plus I really love to dig into the past, so I always go back to what was, probably too often (three retrograde planets, what to do). Some bridges I have burned, not on purpose, and I regret I have.

Autumn never ends in my city / Jesen u mom gradu ne prestaje

Here I go again with the Guru, but what to do, when he really has a handful of super intelligent conclusions. Anyhow, the Guru says: let go of regrets this very moment. Regretting is redundant and unproductive. The past happened, what you can learn from it – learn and move on. He also says something else: See your past as your destiny, and your future as free will. How smart! I wish I could do that. At least I have a teacher who shares a few good ones with me, instead of relying on non-authentic, quasi-spiritual akka self-help diarrhoea-style empowerment crap (positive quotes, yeah right).

Going back on topic: Maybe I am completely wrong, and I will hopefully find out if I was in a couple of years, I realised I need to leave some people behind. Consciously, decisively and intelligently. To protect myself, and to give them an opportunity to detach, to experience their own worlds without me in it. For me to experience a life without them.

Firstly, a logical reason for separation would be hurt and anger, resentment and similar. Yet, unusual, but true (or maybe I am the one justifying my ego by intellectualising) – my current reason to put a veto on any communication with certain people is because I CHOOSE not to accept, spiritually said, certain energies in my life. A small dose of doubt is surly there. Have I made the right decision? Did I have to do it in that particular way? I definitely had the last word, and I liked that, heheee. Even so, curiosity killed the cat. What is the person thinking now, what are they feeling, do they hate me? Sometimes I can feel/hear the emotions and thoughts of those people. Voodoo! Also, I can more or less guess how they could feel, as I know them well. A person you do not know, there is no reason to put on ice, right?

Let us see where this will take me. What I feel now is I do not wish to give space to some people, their thoughts, opinions and behaviour. Because it does not suit me, because it tires me, because it does not enrich my life. I still do not have enough strength and unlimited powers, nor the greatness to be there for them out of the bottom of my heart and help. I am still young and small, and I need to shut down the unlimited source I share with others, and take some of it for myself. So I can be more useful where needed, without unnecessary exhaustion.

My next action point: to stop using food like drugs. A bit brutal, yet, quite true.

I discovered what I really feel comfortable eating, but from time to time the rhythm gets spoiled, so I start eating everything like a hungry kid after a day’s play. Like letting a dog off the chain. I have such amazing discipline and attention to what I eat, and then my guard falls, and then it is a mess. The thing is that I am using diet as a health option (instead of popping chemicals into the body, I am restoring the balance naturally). So, every time I get stranded, I suffer quite badly. Cos I’m a sensitive flower… Please don’t offer me bread, cheese or sugar chocolates, but let us rather boil a goulash and share a spoon of honey. Everyone creates their own world, and that is why in my world mozzarella is pure evil and for someone else pure heaven.

Now for real. Out of reasons unknown, I spiked my breakfast with chilli oil, had tabasco for lunch and for dinner, completely innocently, I bit into, properly chewed and swallowed: a whole chilli pepper. After dinner, I had a fight with my new roommate (the better half of the well-known K&G sisters tandem), claiming how the tension has been growing for days, while she was not on the same page, really. Wishing to say that the chilli brought anger into the relationship! So now, whether the chilli came to me, cos I was already angry, or the chilli was the cause of the unexpected anger? Chicken or egg first? In any case, whether it was the chicken or the egg, one of the two surly was and that confirms my theory that food drastically influences the quality of our life. Just to remind you that: everyone creates their own world.

Reminder of the coolest sistahs in da Uni-verse / Podsjetnik na najfora sestre u Sve-miru

The people I am not speaking to at the moment are my dad and my ex (connection?). If you want to know the juicy details of the divorce papers, message me. I would say more for sure, but I do need to respect the privacy of others. Long live freedom of speech! I will type all this down, and then it will be digitally opened in 50 years, because the people in the future would be super interested in how we lived, and have special interest in gossip from the life of a junge Frau. I hardly wait to see all that from the heaven and observe my grandkids forgetting all about me!

The story of my life.

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Evo mene opet na naškom. Naporno mi prevoditi blogove, pa sam ih par samo na engleskom ostavila, bez objašnjenja, a što ću. Snalazite se vi što ne govorite engleski, ne zaboravite da vas volim bez obzira na jezik.

Šalu nastranu. Khm. Na stranu. Razvezao mi se jezik, nešto sam postala „zločesta“. Zločestija nego inače. Otvorenija u izričaju, reklo bi se.

Bila sam se malo stisla zbog toga. Sve kažem otvoreno, snažna prolazim kroz nevolje, nedaće i izazove, ali. Ali kad se skupi malo emocionalnog napora, više ne mogu, pa puknem. Ne pre-naglo, više kao kokica na usporenoj snimci. Borim se između želje za nepovrjeđivanjem, a s druge strane sam razvila muda da kažem sve što mi se ne sviđa svakome, bez straha da ću biti procijenjena kao loša osoba. Težak je život duhovnog tragaoca. Lako se stvori koncept da trebaš biti isključivo dobrica, i onda potiskuješ prirodne osjećaje, da bi na kraju puk'o ko kokica, pa se svi čude šta ti je. Uh.

Iz poslovnih sam razloga potražila razne izvore duhovnih šala/izraza/postova, i otkrila da ih većina djeluje kao samo-pomoć za jadnike. Ispričavam se onim uistinu pametnim, pronicljivim i duboko duhovnim izričajima, ali. Ali ima toliko isklišejiziranog smeća na slobodi. Trebalo bi to sve zabraniti.

Komentiram s Katinom kako ljudi govore da bi slušali svoj glas, intelektualizirajući svoje zaključke, dok rijetko tko iskreno dijeli. Znaš sve one seljačke priče u TV reportažama koje se ne zaboravljaju? Zašto su toliko smiješne i zašto ostaju vječno urezane u našim memorijskim skladištima? Jer su ti ljudi istiniti, prosti, originalni. Jer dijele nešto što su čuli/osjetili/doživjeli. Guru kaže da netko tko nešto nadugo i naširoko, repetitivno razglaba, dijeli iz intelekta. Dok, ako dijeli iz srca, samim svojim prisustvom ili uz vrlo malo riječi, prenese jasno ono što želi prenijeti. Kad ljudi govore samo iz intelekta, sami sebi objašnjavaju nešto s čim se vrlo vjerojatno iz dubine svoje duše ne slažu, te što češće sami sebe čuju da nešto govore, to valjda dublje potiskuju intuitivnu i iskrenu misao/osjećaj.

Taught a Happiness Program in Baden-Baden / Vodila tečaj u Baden-Badenu

Teško je vidjeti svoje rupe, svoje nedostatke, svoju malenost. Još teže je to priznati sebi, a najteže drugima. ThetaHealing me tome itekako naučio. Kopanje po psihi i podsvijesti. Dan ti je uvid i šira slika onoga što se s osobom događa i vidiš što od sebe skriva, što je to što sebi pojašnjava, zapravo opravdava, braneći svoj ego. Vidiš osobu kao otvorenu knjigu, ali ne možeš čovjeka natjerati da vidi čemu njemu služi vlastiti obrazac, kojeg on vidi kao negativno nametnutog izvana. Istovremeno, moraš osobu nježno navoditi da vidi sve više i više ono što u suštini ne želi vidjeti.

Svatko stvara svoj vlastiti svijet. Ja i ti gledamo kroz prozor i vidimo scenu koja se odvija između dvoje ljudi. Čujemo iste riječi, vidimo iste geste – a oboje imamo drugačiju interpretaciju onoga što se dogodilo, u odnosu na sve ono što je utjecalo na to da budemo osoba koja jesmo upravo u tom trenutku.

Ta ista slika, već sutradan može biti, od obje osobe, drugačije viđena i procijenjena. Svatko stvara svoj vlastiti svijet. Ili ako ti je lakše ovako: priroda nam je stvorila ove lijepe oči kroz koje vidimo svijet onakvim kako nam unutarnja priroda nalaže. „Nisam valjda ja odgovoran za sve što mi se u životu događa!“ Hmmm, u suštini jesi. Samo naš mali um, pošto nije u svakom trenutku povezan sa svime što jest (kozmičkom inteligencijom, svime što jest itd.), smatra da se njemu nešto nameće izvana, i da je nemoguće da to sve sami stvaramo. Svatko stvara svoj vlastiti svijet, birajući da ga vidi onako kako ga vidi. Ponavljam se: četiri oka, dva para ušiju i dva srca npr. doživljavaju istu objektivnu situaciju čak i dijametralno suprotno, kroz filter svega što znamo, što smo doživjeli, genetiku i reći ću, da, o daaaa; KARMU.

Kao što svi znamo, karma, yup, she's a bitch. Čak i ista identična „karma“ (ako uopće postoji „ista karma“!), ilitiga uzročno-posljedično djelovanje ovog postojanja, može od dvoje različitih ljudi biti drugačije interpretirana. Netko će reći da je nešto blagoslov, a druga osoba će za to isto reći da je prokletstvo. Svatko stvara svoj vlastiti svijet.

Šalu nastranu. Nisam nikad razumjela zašto ljudi imaju potrebu druge izbaciti iz svog života. Bilo mi je apsolutno nerazumljivo zašto ljudi nakon veze s nekim prekinu zauvijek svaki kontakt s tom osobom. Nakon dijeljenja i dobrog i lošeg i čak i sline – ćao! Pretpostavljam da svako dijete želi da su mu roditelji vječno skupa i sretni. Moji roditelji su tako odlučili (tj. mama, a tata nije imao izbora), i možda je to razlog zašto se ja cijeli život trudim iz petnih žila da ne bih slučajno spalila koji most iza sebe. Nije mi se svidjelo kako je to bilo među njima. Plus što volim prčkati po prošlosti, pa se uvijek vraćam svemu što je bilo, vjerojatno prečesto (tri retrogradne planete, šta ćeš). Neke mostove sam nenamjerno spalila, i žalim za tim.

My mom is picking olives in Croatia / Mama bere masline u Hrvatskoj

Opet ja s Guruom, ali šta ćeš kad stvarno ima zeru mudrih, uglavnom, kaže Guru da se ostavim žaljenja istog trena. Žaljenje je suvišno i neproduktivno. Prošlost se dogodila, što iz nje možeš – nauči i idi dalje. Kaže još nešto, što se tu super nadovezuje: Vidi svoju prošlost kao sudbinu, a budućnost kao slobodnu volju. Ma kako je samo pametan! Kad bih bar ja tako… Ali eto, bar imam nekog da mi podijeli dvije pametne, da se ne moram oslanjati na neautentične kvazi-duhovne akka self-help proljeve o samoosnaživanju.

Povratak na temu: shvatila sam, i možda sam potpuno u krivu, ali to ću valjda saznati za koju godinicu, da neke ljude MORAM ostaviti iza sebe. Svjesno, odlučno i pametno. Da bih sebe zaštitila i da bih njima dala priliku da se odvoje, da dožive svoj svijet bez mene. I da ja doživim svijet bez njih. Isprva, logičan razlog odvajanja bi bio povrijeđenost i ljutnja, zamjeranje i slično tome. No, neobično, ali istinito (ili, ponavljam se, možda ja to samo sebi sada tako intelektualno objašnjavam, ne bi li samu sebe/ego opravdala) – moj trenutni razlog stavljanja veta na pretjeranu ili bilo kakvu komunikaciju s nekim ljudima je isključivo, jer BIRAM ne primati određene, duhovno rečeno: energije, u svoj život. Mala doza sumnje svakako postoji. Jesam li donijela dobru odluku? Jesam li morala to napraviti baš na taj način? Svakako sam ja imala zadnju riječ, to mi se baš sviđa, ehehe. Ipak, znatiželja me kopka, što sada ta osoba misli, što sada osjeća, mrzi li me? Nekad osjetim/čujem osjećaje, misli tih ljudi. Voodoo! I otprilike znam kako bi se mogli osjećati, što bi mogli misliti, jer se dobro poznajemo. S nekim s kim se ni ne poznaš, nema ni potrebe da je/ga stavljaš na led, zar ne?

Vidjet ćemo kako će se ovo dalje razvijati. Ono što osjećam sada je da ne želim davati prostora u svom životu nekim ljudima, njihovim mislima i mišljenjima, njihovom ponašanju. Jer mi ne odgovara, jer me umara, jer me ne obogaćuje. Nemam još dovoljno snage i neograničene moći, niti veličine da im iz srca budem na raspolaganju i pomognem, jer sam još mala i mlada, i trebam malo zatvoriti svoju pipu za druge kako bi nešto ostalo i za mene. Da mogu biti korisnija gdje treba, bez da me se nepotrebno iscrpljuje.

Sljedeća akcija: da se prestanem drogirati hranom! Jako bitno kad odlučiš izbaciti kemiju iz života i liječiti se prehranom. Malo brutalno, ali rekla bih, poprilično istinito. Otkrila sam što mi uistinu besprijekorno odgovara jesti, ali s vremena na vrijeme mi se poremeti ritam, i navalim na sve živo kao gladno dijete nakon cjelodnevnog landranja po vani. Kad pustiš psa s lanca. Imam tako dobru disciplinu i pažnju na sve što jedem, ali popusti mi gard i onda se satarem. Ne bi bilo problema da nisam tako prokleto osjetljiva, da ne doživim svaki taj izlet s poprilično kobnim posljedicama. Zato me nemoj nuditi kruhom, sirom ni čokoladom, nego radije skuhajmo varivo i podijelimo žlicu meda. Svatko stvara svoj vlastiti svijet, zato je u mom svijetu mozarella sendvič najveće zlo, a nekom drugom milina.

Divine chocolate! no dairy no sugar, no gluten, just pure delight / Božanstvena ćoksa bez mliječnih sastojaka, šećera i glutena, samo čisto savršentsvo!

Sad za fakat: iz nepoznatog razloga sam posegnula za čili uljem za doručak i tabascom za ručak, a za večeru sam, zbilja nenamjerno, zagrizla, dobro prožvakala i progutala oveću čili papričicu. Nakon te večere sam se posvađala sa svojom novom cimericom (svima dobro poznata iz K&G tandema, Katinom), tvrdeći da se stalno peckamo već danima, dok njoj nije baš bilo jasno o čemu ja to trabunjam. Želim reći da je čili zaljutio odnos! E sad, jel' čili došao jer sam već bila ljuta, pa je bio kap koja je prelila čašu ili je čili naljutio? Kokoš ili jaje? U svakom slučaju, bila kokoš il' jaje, jedno od to dvoje zasigurno jest i to potvrđuje moju teoriju o tome da nam hrana DRASTIČNO utječe na kvalitetu života. Da ne kažem: Svatko stvara svoj vlastiti svijet.

Ne razgovaram s ocem ni s bivšim momkom (hmmmm). Ako te zanimaju sočni detalji rastava, slobodno mi se javi u inbox. Puno bih ja toga više rekla, ali ne smijem, moram poštovati privatnost ljudi s kojima sam u interakciji. Živjela sloboda govora! Sve ću ja to zapisat, i onda će se digitalno otvoriti za 50 godina, jer će ljude u budućnosti živo zanimati kako se ranije živjelo, a da ne kažem što će uživati u detaljima tračeva iz ranijeg života jedne djeve mlade. Jedva čekam sve to promatrati s neba, i gledati kako svojim unucima već ja i moj život padaju u zaborav.

Priča mog života.

#chocolate #vegan #gluten-free #sugar-free #personal blog #life is divine #gordana tihomirovic #sri sri ravi shankar #happiness program #art of living

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nyxtales · 7 years

Text

Metamorphosis

This is a collection of events from an idea I had a while ago. The story is called Akran Saga, after the Arabic word for “scorpion.” It’s a bit long, so bear with me. I hope it’s a satisfactory after a very long hiatus. I’m trying to get my life together, and it’s taking a good bit of effort.

He knew that something was different when he woke up with the sides of his face sore as all hell. But that wasn’t his main concern—a concert was today, and it was going to be his death if he didn’t show up and play.

And yet, the feeling of having acid running through his veins should have counted as a good reason to stay home.

“Dammit,” he mutters, sliding on his clothes and keeping the following string of curses very muted. If his parents hear, they’ll tan his hide.

Of course, something had to go wrong the one day, the one day he was hoping the cosmos would actually have a heart.

Then again, it probably has a very cold heart. He thinks he should be a bit more specific the next time he asks for a miracle after getting reamed by his parents for not playing perfectly.

“Seriously, I got scouted—shouldn’t they be happy with that?” he growls into a pillow. The pillow is currently taking heavy punishment—his limbs hurt like hell, but it’s the pain in his face that he wants to stop.

But, as always, the cosmos have a lot of fun torturing him. Or so he thinks. Anything to make light of this increasingly painful situation. It’s only when the pain comes to a head, and he can’t help but scream into the pillow as it does, that it finally ceases. And after suffering so long in agony, he can finally fade into a blissful oblivion.

When he’s at school the next day, however, he realizes that the fact he hadn’t had any nightmares should have warned him that the cosmos weren’t finished screwing with him quite yet.

“What the…eyes?” he squeaks, and yes, it’s a squeak. He’s surprised he can talk, because he really wants to just crawl in a hole and die, his throat hurts so bad. Carefully, hopefully, warily he looks into his reflection in the boy’s bathroom, going pale as a sheet when his fears are confirmed.

He really has eyes. One, two, three…there are eight of them, each in sets of two. The newly grown three sets cascade down the side of his face, the bottom-most set somewhere in the middle of his cheekbones.

That isn’t the best part either.

All of them, all of them, are cat-like, the ovoid pupils dilating in time with his rising panic. Being able to see so well hurt, and he just curled in one of the stalls with his eyes closed, hoping to whoever heard that no one else would find out about that.

Then again, if someone did, maybe they could help, starting with something to numb his gums.

This time, the new changes appear during the middle of class. Thankfully, no one really noticed, but then again, it’s Halloween—of course people are wearing flamboyant costumes. So what, he’s a teenaged vampire. It’s nothing new.

Still, the fangs in his mouth are. And they hurt like hell. For the rest of the day, and a few more afterward, he avoided speaking when at all possible. It wasn’t till the pain in his mouth went away that he realized he had claws.

And that time, someone did take notice.

His best friend, Gabriel, happened to comment that his nails were really long on a sudden impulse on their way to orchestra. Out of instinct, he came up with a lie, saying that it was an experiment.

Gabriel agreed, dropping the subject and continuing on about a really cute girl he saw at the bookstore—he’s a bookworm. He laughs along with him, secretly panicking as he takes a mental tally of everything about him that’s just plain wrong.

Then his mind gives him an image of what his parents will do if they notice anything.

He shudders, saying that it’s suddenly really chilly.

Gabriel doesn’t say anything, but it’s hot outside.

When the changes come this time, he’s prepared and not prepared.

He’s prepared, because he’s figured out that there are signs when his body is changing—now, what’s changing, he’s not got a clue. Namely, he’s extremely tired, and everything that is him aches.

He isn’t prepared, however, for exactly how badly everything hurts or the feeling of having something scraping his insides as it writhes within him. Actually, he realizes, it’s more than one thing.

If he wasn’t trying so hard not to scream, he’d probably be laughing hysterically.

Yet he stays silent, holding his sides and pressing his back against the wall as best he can, trying to apply counter-pressure to that space on his lower back that is agony. His hands are wrapped around him, pressing against whatever is cutting him from inside. A very rational part of his mind that’s high off pain notes he shouldn’t push what’s cutting him from the inside back inside, but its instinct that dictates his actions now.

Then skin breaks, and he screams with voice of a dying creature, because that’s honestly what it feels like.

“…What the hell--?” Gabriel exclaims as he bursts through the door, stopping as he sees him curled on the ground. His blood is pooling under him, and he’s pretty sure everything else he’s tried to hide up till now is visible.

But that doesn’t matter.

All that matters is that he’s somewhere safe, and wherever that is, it’s not here. He (somehow) gets to his feet, desperate to flee when Gabriel intercepts his frankly pathetic attempt to escape, wrapping his strong arms around the struggling boy.

Whatever he is, he’s not a boy. He knows that much. But that is all he knows.

“Shh, darkling,” Gabriel murmurs, sitting him down. He doesn’t move; the logical and rational part of his brain shut down. Instead its instinct that drives him. “I wondered if you’d started…looks like I should have paid attention.”

He tries to say something, but all that comes out is a garbled sound that leans more towards a growl. Gabriel turns around, musing interrupted.

“You can still understand me, right?” Gabriel asks him, watching as he slowly nods. “That’s good,” he says with a grin. “Have you slept any?”

At the shake of his head, Gabriel grabs his hand (claw) and leads him to one of the empty bedrooms. It takes a few moments to pull out blankets and comforters, but once they’re out, he makes a bee-line for them. But Gabriel grabs him and yanks him backwards.

“Not like that you’re not—go take a bath,” Gabriel instructs him, glaring when he growls. Then friendly hazel eyes become wild yellow-gold, and its then that he does as he’s told.

There’s another shriek when he gets to the bathroom. Gabriel sighs, already aware of why, and carefully pries the door open. He’s backed into a corner as far as he can, hyper-ventilating and reeking of being feral.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Gabriel says softly, slowly approaching the terrified boy. He shakes his head, refusing to move. The newly grown appendages lash out at him in response, sharp claws flexing dangerously. For a newly awakened Dark One, he’s pretty deadly.

“Ciaran.”

It’s that one word, those few syllables that snap him out of it. He, Ciaran, looks at him, his eyes revealing his panic.

And it’s at that moment that Gabriel feels sorrow for the boy, the one so obviously not what he tries to be. Because he knows once the boy realizes what he actually is, it’s going to take a miracle to bring him around.

“You’re covered in blood,” Gabriel points out, squelching the almost spoken comment to look in a mirror. He’s pretty sure that’s what’s got him like this.

“I…I know, it’s…it’s mine,” Ciaran manages, his voice much deeper and darker than before. Gabriel indicates the bathtub, to which Ciaran manages a weak grin. “Y-yeah, good idea.”

“I’ll get you a change of clothes,” Gabriel tells him, disappearing downstairs and out the door. It’s then, and only then, that Ciaran allows himself the tears he’s tried so hard to hide for so very long.

Because now, now there is no doubt. There is no other explanation.

“What am I..?” he whimpers brokenly, letting the water wash away the blood and hide the tears. After an hour or so of letting water soothe his aching muscles, he finally cleans off, stepping out of the shower tentatively.

There’s a change of clothes, like promised, and a brief note.

Once dressed, he follows the instructions there, and is surprised to find Gabriel waiting for him on the roof, perched there with a somber expression as he stares at the starry sky. It’s almost as if he lamenting something.

“What happening to you is supposed to,” Gabriel says suddenly, looking at him. Ciaran doesn’t say anything, though the way his eyes look away while he struggles with the things under his shirt.

“How long…how long have you known?” Ciaran finally asks, meeting his gaze. His own is a mix of trepidation and the yearning to know.

“Since Halloween, when you suddenly ‘decided’ to be a teen vampire,” Gabriel answered wryly. Ciaran couldn’t help but grin weakly, sinking to his feet. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Who’d believe me?” he said bitterly, pushing himself back up to standing—now it was his legs. Was there no relief? “I’m growing extra arms, claws, fangs, eyes, and a tail. My parents will murder me.”

“That’s not an excuse now,” Gabriel says simply, walking over to him. Ciaran looks over his shoulder, making a sound of surprise when his legs give way. “Go to sleep—you’ll feel better in the morning.”

“When will it end?” Ciaran queries suddenly, turning to face him. Gabriel shakes his head, expression sympathetic.

“I don’t know,” he tells him, helping him up. “Whenever you’ve grown up.”

Somehow, that one phrase comforts Ciaran more than anything else.

With Gabriel as an ally, it got a bit better.

However, the day his wings finally revealed themselves is also the day he learned that he had a dark streak that made even Gabriel wary.

It started with his parents actually being familial and wanting him to stay over that weekend. He was happy—they were actually in a good mood, so maybe they could actually do stuff as a family.

That was a very big mistake.

The moment the weekend hit, he was barraged with verbal assaults like they were air. While it didn’t really affect him (that he was going to actually admit), it was the physical assaults that caused him trouble.

Ciaran honestly wanted to crawl in the bed and stay there. And he would have, too, had not his father came in and threatened to beat him blue if he didn’t get out of the bed. While it wasn’t much of a threat—he was currently getting cut and burnt from the inside out—he wasn’t that much of a masochist.

What gave him up was when they did a ritual of drinking from an old chalice the family had as an heirloom, something they’d done as a “rite of purification and unity.”

He didn’t really care about the reasoning behind it; he was just happy for the one time they could be together and not trying to tear him apart.

All hell broke loose, however, when he started gagging after it was his turn to sip. The cup hadn’t even left his hands before he dropped it, hands going to his throat as it burned in agony.

“Have you lost your mind?” his mother hissed as he gagged, shaking his head in response. It hurt, it hurt like nothing had before, but he couldn’t give the pain a voice.

“No, he has finally admitted to what he really is,” his father answered for her, getting up and walking over to the bookshelf. The sword that rests there is the other heirloom, one well-kept and tended to.

Ciaran knows it’s sharp, mainly from having to clean it so often.

“N-no…what…are you…talking about?” Ciaran rasped, trying to speak past the burning agony of his throat. “What do you..?”

“Ciaran, you are not human, and you never will be,” his father said simply. “What you are is a demon, born from the darkest depths of hell. Not only are you a demon, you are the one your kind has prophesied to end all life. And for that, you shall die.”

“But..! I haven’t even..!” Ciaran exclaimed, spitting up blood as his throat rebelled against use. His father still approached, holding the blade at the ready the entire while.

Neither of them had any mercy for him.

The moment his father raises his blade is when Ciaran finally realizes that he means to kill him.

He doesn’t want to die. He doesn’t want to kill them, either—they’re his parents, the ones that gave him a home five years ago. But he doesn’t want to die, and that takes priority.

Ciaran moves, his instincts taking over as his mind is overwhelmed by conflicting emotions. His father frowns, only for his face to become placid as he’s hit in the back with what could only be a whip.

“Die, demon,” she hisses, eyes blazing with righteous fury. Ciaran makes a sound akin to a yelp of terror, backing away from both of them before taking off downstairs.

They give chase, but he knows the house better than they. He waits till they’ve run around a corner before ducking into one of the laundry chutes, groaning as his back complains about being slammed into the wall who knows how many times. It’s joined by whatever is scraping—and burning—the insides of his back. Weakly, he stumbles out, only to hiss as he’s almost hit dead-on by the burst of light that shoots by his face.

“Stop fighting us,” his father tells him, sounding as if he’s pleading. “Do you really wish to destroy the world?”

“I’m not going to do that!” Ciaran cries in return, ignoring the blood in his mouth. His fangs have slid, too, as well as his tail.

“Look at yourself��you are no human. You do not deserve to live,” his mother points out, nose scrunched up and eyes narrowed. “No human has fangs or a tail.”

“Let me kill you, Ciaran,” his father begs, eyes focused onto him. “You will save the world by doing this final deed.”

“I don’t want to die!” Ciaran screams, narrowly missing the blade. It does, however, leave a considerable gash on his chest. He hisses as eyes open—it begins to dawn on him that he’ll have to fight his parents if he wants to get out alive.

“You will die, whether you wish to or not,” his mother countered. “You have the option to choose if it means something or no.”

He let loose a wild cry, baring his fangs. He’s a lot of things, but willing to die like is not one of them. His father shakes his head, something in his eyes dying behind that light there.

“Once a demon, always a demon,” he mutters, attacking the boy. Ciaran hisses, his claws defending him from most of the damage as he seeks an opening. It isn’t working—if anything, he’s the one with openings—but it doesn’t stop him from trying.

The wounds covering his body are leaking blood, his blood. He knows this, but can do nothing about them. He doesn’t know how to fight—

“Ciaran!”

“…Gabriel?” Ciaran murmurs in surprise, hissing when they begin to circle him quickly. Gabriel dives into the fray, unleashing a spinning attack with his blades that makes them back away.

“The boy is under my care,” Gabriel says calmly, looking at his father. “Do you really want to force my hand?”

“So you’ve taken him under your wings, O Fallen One?” his father asks, shaking his head in disappointment as Gabriel replies, “I have.” “Why can you not see the Light? He will destroy this world, and all that lives in it.”

“That only can happen because of treating him as you have,” Gabriel said shortly, causing his father to narrow his eyes. “He is not evil. He needs not die.”

“Any born of Shadow must die, Gabriel,” his father says firmly. “This is the same reason why you have been banished from your place as the throne holder!”

“A false angel banished from the false throne of a false god,” Gabriel replies. “Everything is false. We are not angels—we are men and women, gifted with our strengths to help others, not play Creator!”

“We are not creating, we are purifying the world as intended—“

“By who, Michael?” Gabriel hissed. Ciaran listened to their arguments, but couldn’t understand what was happening. All he knew was that everything hurt, and it wouldn’t be long before something changed.

“Do not waste words on a Fallen Angel,” his mother hissed, drawing their attention in her direction. “Take action.”

Gabriel’s eyes widened at the gaping hole that was in Ciaran’s chest, and Ciaran did, too. There was a hole in his chest, a hole. It was easily the size of both his fists. Ciaran looked at his mother in shocked horror before collapsing.

“See? It is done,” she purrs in victory, clicking her tongue when she has to wrap Gabriel in her whip. “Did you really think we would let him live, Gabriel? Why do you, an Angel, care so much for the demons?”

“He isn’t a demon. You are,” Gabriel intoned coldly, breaking free of the whip and launching his assault. The couple worked in sync to hold off the enraged Gabriel, whose twin blades sang as they cut through the air.

All the while, Ciaran lie there, eyes staring into nothing, dying.

I’m…going to die.

That’s right.

But I don’t want to, not like this.

Of course not. But you’re too weak to live, anyway.

I’m not weak!

Sure you aren’t—that’s why you couldn’t keep yourself alive, much less your parents.

My parents? I don’t even—

Remember them, I know. How do you think those memories got sealed? Poor little Ciaran couldn’t handle his parents dying, so he forgot about it.

I don’t want to die.

And? You’re dying now. Well, if you use me, you won’t. But I get to have you if you aren’t strong enough to.

Go to hell.

After you.

Neither of the fighters were expecting his corpse to sit up and glare at them. When the wounds closed before their eyes, they started to get worried. The moment his eyes opened, and they were all ovoid as well as amber, it was time to panic.

“What in Heaven’s name..?” Gabriel murmured, watching in shock.

“This is why we must kill him,” his father said simply, knocking the fallen Angel back as he swooped to deal the finishing blow—pure white, feathery wings gently scooped the air before propelling him forward.

Those white, feathery wings were met with black, leathery wings.

“Who says I’m going to let you?” Ciaran asked, smirking. His eyes were looking in different directions—a two pair on his father, a pair on his mother, and a pair on Gabriel. “Aw, what’s with the face? You wanted to kill me, didn’t you? Come on.”

“What..? Who are you?” his father asked, features actually revealing deep confusion and…pain? “You are not Ciaran.”

“Really, now?” he continued on, laughing when he got wrapped by his mother’s whip. “Did you ever know me? Nice trick with the whip, by the way. My turn!”

The smile on Ciaran’s face became absolutely disturbing as he looked at his mother. Whatever passed in that gaze when her eyes met his had to have terrified her, because she dropped the whip.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Ciaran hissed, grabbing her—How the hell did he move that fast? Gabriel thought—with his claws and wrapping his arms around her. “Do you have any idea how much I loved you guys? Still do, but that’s nothing compared to how much I want you two to hurt.”

“What are you—you’re a demon! Demons can’t love!” his mother shrieked, squirming in his grasp. He chuckled, hiding his face in her hair.

“Of course not,” Ciaran agreed quietly. “Goodbye, Mama.”

She gasped in pain, falling completely still as he let her go. The moment he did, she fell to the ground, twitching slightly before going still as only those dead can.

“What did you do to her?” his father exclaimed, wings flapping softly in irritation. Ciaran looked at him, that disturbing smile on his face.

“She’s out of the way for a while,” Ciaran answered, shrugging when the man spluttered in rage. “That whip is annoying.”

“How dare you, you—“ his father roared, charging at the boy once more. His blade met Ciaran’s claws, which had folded over him to protect him from that blow.

“Demon?” Ciaran finished, raising an eyebrow. “What else did you think I was? Your son? Could have fooled me.”

“Die!” the man exclaimed, surprised when he was thrown backward. Ciaran flapped his wings, hovering above ground for a few moments.

“I won’t let you kill me,” Ciaran told him, grinning. Gabriel started, realizing that he was escaping. “Thanks for the save, Gabriel.”

“Ciaran! Wait!“ Gabriel exclaimed, running after him. He stopped when the boy disappeared out of sight, turning to face the broken angel. “What have you done, Michael?”

“He will die,” Michael said softly, finally looking up at him with black eyes. “As will you, for aiding him.”

Gabriel didn’t bother replying, instead running after the boy. He didn’t have to go far—Ciaran had the strongest scent of concentrated darkness he’d ever felt.

He did however, question his choice of hiding—on top of the highest building—and voiced that.

“Why not?” Ciaran replied, glancing at him over his shoulder. “You might want to check your wounds—there’s one that’ll kill you on your throat.”

“No, it—huh, you are right,” Gabriel muttered in agreement, healing it with a soft light. He came up to Ciaran—well, he tried to. There wasn’t much he could do when face with claws dripping…something.

“Poison,” Ciaran explained, withdrawing them. “What do you want, Gabriel?”

“How are you alive?” Gabriel asked, going straight to the point. “I saw her tear a hole through you. And who are you? Ciaran never speaks like this.”

“…I really like how everyone thinks they know him,” Ciaran, rather, the not-Ciaran commented, getting to his feet. “You’re not wrong, though. You’re not right, either.”

“What do you mean?” Gabriel asked, making sure he didn’t come off as threatening—the ground was melting where his Ciaran’s poison hit it. Ciaran looked at him.

“Exactly that. Pry it out of the boy,” he replied, looking away. “But you’re not like the usual Angel crew. Why is that?”

“…Touche,” Gabriel admitted, grinning sheepishly as Ciaran gave him a pointed look. “But still…is he really a darkling, or is it your influence?”

“Can’t you tell, Angel boy?” he asked, smirking when Gabriel gave him a blasé look. “Both. He is a darkling, but I’ve…enhanced him a bit.”

“Enhanced?” Gabriel exclaimed, falling silent when one of Ciaran’s claws rose up threateningly.

“Let me make one thing very clear to you,” the not-Ciaran said, grinning in that disturbing way. It was like he was leering. “I don’t really care for any of you. The only one I care about is him, and that’s because he’s mine by a binding contract.”

“You realize that if I die, he’s going to be that much worse, right?” Gabriel countered. That leer widened.

“Works just fine for me,” he replied. “Either way, I win.”

“Why did you bond with him? You know that he doesn’t have the heart to do anything your kind is infamous for,” Gabriel prodded.

“What we are infamous for is not our doing,” the being replied, golden eyes flashing red. “And it would behoove you to watch your tongue. You may not have it for long.”

“Why him, then?” Gabriel asked. The creature’s eyes gave him a hard look before looking away. A grin lit his face, but it wasn’t one that reached his eyes.

“Are you sure you want that answer?”

Gabriel fell quiet, not entirely sure he wanted to know that. The not-Ciaran turned back to face him, sighing.

“I’ll admit I’m not really interested in killing—too much trouble,” it told him, gaze trailing the clouds. “But I do want this one to survive. So, I’ll cut you a deal: help him, and let him join your cause—in return, I won’t destroy this place.”

“You were never going to,” Gabriel said matter-of-factly. “Otherwise, you would have actually killed his mother.”

“With what I’ve seen of your kind, I don’t think you want that risk.”

“True. I’ll take your deal,” Gabriel answered. “With one condition—you have to help him. I know nothing of his type of darkling.”

“Of course. I won’t let him share that fate.”

“What fate?”

“The fate of his family.”

“What—“

“Ask him. Don’t expect an answer, though.”

“Is there—“

“Yes, there’s a reason, and no, I’m not telling you now,” Ciaran told him, golden eyes focused on him. “So, you’ve met.”

“How do you know…him?” Gabriel asked. Ciaran gave him a cold smile.

“Are you sure you want that answer?”

Gabriel could have sworn one of the boy’s eyes were red.

The alternate personality of Ciaran has a name.

Ciaran says it’s Adrian, which Gabriel finds highly ironic—both of their names mean “dark one.”

But now that he knows something else lives within Ciaran, it explains a lot of his friend’s strange behavior. For example, Ciaran usually spaces out. A lot. Or his absolute obsession with music—there’s a reason the boy plays violin so well. There’s also his strange habit of keeping wherever he stays utterly dark.

Gabriel knows these strange quirks of Ciaran because Ciaran now lives with him. It’s been a month, and he’s learned that the boy has a lot more secrets than he knew about. Several of them, Ciaran is aware of, but many he doesn’t. Adrian won’t tell either of them those.

One of the one’s Ciaran didn’t know about was that he was a darkling. That’s still a lesson Gabriel has yet to teach him, mainly because he doesn’t know how Ciaran will respond. The boy reminds him of a famous lake—the surface was always calm, but a monster lurked underneath.

There are moments he sees that monster.

And that monster is not Adrian.

Gabriel worries, because he thinks that his parents worry was a valid one—he wouldn’t put it past Ciaran to destroy the world.

Sometimes, he talks with Adrian. He’s explained that there are days where Ciaran is completely inaccessible, even to him. It’s on those days that Adrian takes over, but he won’t leave the house.

Whenever Adrian takes over, Ciaran’s darkling traits are visible, and impossible to hide.

Gabriel wonders about that, too.

Adrian is actually a pretty decent person, although his sense of humor is, for lack of a better word, screwy. Gabriel has been at the receiving end of it on many occasions, and the only thing he can say is worse is Ciaran’s sense of humor. Thankfully, the quiet boy typically doesn’t prank.

When he does, though, Gabriel meditates after getting out of it—but not before scaring Ciaran silly.

Ciaran still isn’t comfortable with being a darkling, and that’s only worsened by the fact that his body is rapidly changing. One day he woke up to having a second set of fangs in his mouth; another, spikes going down his back; there was an incident with the bed being melted; but the kicker was the exoskeleton.

Neither Adrian nor Gabriel were prepared for the utter breakdown that happened. Gabriel was forced to tie Ciaran down.

The fact that he didn’t calm down till he was tied down was worrying.

When Gabriel kept prodding Adrian for answers—because Ciaran was impossible to get answers out of—the answer he got chilled him to the bone.

“Do you have any idea what his life had to be like for a demon to contract him out of pity?”

Later, when they’d switched again and Ciaran was currently playing a game—he’d bought if after working for a month—Gabriel merely watched him, trying to imagine what that could have been like.

Because, really, if his life had been so horrible, how could he keep smiling like that?

Apparently, the wings came up because of Adrian—Ciaran didn’t have his own yet.

“Yet,” is the key word. Gabriel was currently driving as fast as he could get away with while making sure Ciaran didn’t destroy anything important (like the door). In the back seat, Ciaran is curled tightly, his claws buried in his arms.

For some strange reason, Ciaran didn’t want to mess up Gabriel’s car, although the man has made it clear he’s not worried about the damn car of all things.

Gabriel wonders, not for the first time, what his life has been like.

He is glad, though, that Ciaran managed to keep his other “claws” retracted. Gabriel doesn’t know what to call the things, and Adrian never bothered to think about it. They’re long, and a lot like spider’s legs—without the hair—with how long they are. What makes it really scary is that each ends in a pointed tip, almost like spears, that can ooze a poison so potent even Gabriel kept clear of them. When he wants, he can walk on them, but Ciaran prefers to let them hang behind him—it looks like he has wings, but Gabriel has learned better.

They make the boy dangerous when sparring, because he’s learning how to use them. Gabriel has no doubt that the boy will be his equal in a few weeks’ time. Each of them are equivalent to the sword his adopted father had used on him, and can double as a shield.

“Gabriel..!”

The hissed warning speeds him on, but Ciaran makes a strange sound that prompts Gabriel to turn around.

He’s never actually been one to curse, but at that moment, it seems fitting.

“Unless…you’d like to deal with a rabid darkling in a car,” Adrian warns him, his—their?—voices taking on that double tone, as if someone was echoing his words. “You should…hurry.”

“Rabid? Why the hell is he rabid? Scratch that, why is he changing now, of all times?”

“If I knew this would happen, I wouldn’t have let him walk out the damn door.”

“Why, Adrian?”

“He shouldn’t have…wait…Son of a lich.”

Gabriel had to wonder if things could get any worse than they were. Darklings were creatures born of darkness—most of their abilities were as such. One of Ciaran’s strength evolving was like having a fission reactor go off.

“What’s wrong now?”

“It’s the anniversary of their deaths…”

“Will you explain instead of giving me cryptic sentences?”

“He’s already crazy, Gabriel. You know as well as I he should have demonstrated these traits a while back,” Adrian started, gasping. “Dammit, kid, hold on..! He won’t start getting his true strength until ten years after his parents have died—that’s just how his kind works. It’s been ten years.”

“Are you…what’s that mean for us?”

“I hope our place is sturdy, because he’s actually pretty damn strong for a brat.”

Hearing that from Adrian was both a compliment and death sentence.

“…Something tells me I’m going to be needing that hidden fortune…”

“Maybe, maybe not. That girl he knows—what’s her name? Kiara?—yeah, tell her to come over.”

“Adrian, you know we can’t let her get hurt because of him.”

“What, just because she’s a human? She’s the one thing that keeps the boy as functioning as he is! He’ll focus on protecting her rather than destroying everything in sight!”

“Why would he want to destroy everything?”

“…He’s been through too much, and it made him snap. And by snap, I mean he’s psycho. She was there through all of it. You’ll have to ask her, because asking him is easily the stupidest idea you will ever have. And likely the last one.”

“The last…you mean he’ll kill me?”

“If he’s nice about it, yes.”

“That’s not comforting, Adrian.”

“Well, what did you expect?”

“A miracle. We’re here. Can you get him to the house?”

“Angel boy, you have five minutes to pull a lockdown.”

They moved quickly.

“Why five?”

“That’s how long you have till he breaks my hold.”

“Oh, hell.”

“Scratch that. The monster is out.”

“What—“

“Get away! Now!”

Gabriel took off, eyes wide when he glances over his shoulder. Ciaran’s eyes are gold, but the pupils are ovoid, and barely even visible. It doesn’t take too long for Gabriel to start moving. Who wants to die by poison?

He pulls out his phone, dialing Kiara’s number at high speed while leading the berserk child around.

“Hey, Gabriel. What’s up?”

“A lot. Can you come over—crap!—now?”

“Uh, yeah, I’ve got nothing to do. Do I need to bring anything?”

“No, not at all. Wear your running shoes, though.”

“That sounds bad. What’s happening?”

“The monster has come out.”

“Be there in five.”

“Thank you.”

Gabriel quickly shoved the phone into his pocket, running to the other side of the room while Ciaran yanked claws out of the wall. His eyes were pitch-black now, and his fangs were fully extended. Strange veins pulsed along his skin, even underneath the exoskeleton. In fact, the exoskeleton was covering his entire body. He looked a lot like a giant scorpion, except his head, which reminded him of dragons.

“Ciaran! Stop it! Stop attacking!”

Gabriel was very glad Kiara was fearless, because only she could stand face-to-face with Ciaran when he was like that and live.

Ciaran turned to face her, claws falling limp behind him. She grinned, completely unfazed by how creepy his smile looked when he copied her. Gabriel didn’t get what was going on, but he wasn’t about to open his mouth and get targeted again.

“Why are you acting like that? You know Gabriel isn’t going to hurt you.”

Ciaran hissed as his claws raised threateningly.

“That’s no excuse. He only wants to help. He can’t do that if you keep trying to kill him.”

Ciaran growled this time, clutching his head. She caressed his face, drawing his attention back to her.

“You’re growing up again, aren’t you? It’s not going to be like last time, Ciaran, promise. Gabriel wants to make sure you’re okay, just like me.”

Ciaran shook his head, claws wrapping around him. She pulled one away, and then the others when she was sure he wasn’t hurt by the motion. He stood there, looking at her and then at Gabriel in confusion.

“No one is going to hurt you. Remember your promise? If no one attacks you, you can’t attack them.”

Ciaran tried speaking, except that what came out was a growl instead of speech. He kept on anyway, gesticulating as he spoke. Kiara understood him, though. She waited till he was done before wrapping him in a hug, and letting him go.

“Yes, I know—you’ve told me, remember? But you can’t destroy the world, okay? What about people like Ms. Lena or that kind old man? They’d die, too. How about this—any time you want to destroy the world, I’ll sing for you, all right? That way, you can think about something else.”

Ciaran was quiet for a moment, but then spoke furiously for a few moments.

“Ciaran, you are not killing anyone on my watch. Have the dreams really gotten that bad?”

He growled helplessly, nodding his head.

“Well, then, we’ll be doing a lot of duets, won’t we? I know you’re evil. You don’t have to be, you know. And if you really were evil, then why haven’t you done any of those bad things?”

Ciaran growled softly, wrapping his claws around her for a few moments.

“…I’m honored, Ciaran…the choice is yours—follow up on what you were born to do, or protect what you were born to destroy. Just because you’re born to be the ultimate evil doesn’t mean you have to be.”

He shook his head, smiling weakly. Then he looked to Gabriel, and smiled. His claws spread open, only to close and fold behind him.

“Gabriel, he says he’s sorry for trying to kill you,” Kiara told him, grinning when Ciaran nodded emphatically. “I’m supposed to explain real fast. So, here goes: Ciaran was born so he’d be the next ultimate evil. Since his father died, and he was the ultimate evil at the time, it’s passed down to him. He doesn’t act on it…usually. But when he sheds his skin, it overwhelms him, because that’s when his power grows. It’s evil by nature—that’s why he doesn’t like using his abilities. After a certain point, he will become evil. He wants you to kill him when that happens.”

“Are you out of your mind, you little fool?” Gabriel exclaimed, startling Ciaran. “I will not kill you. I will not. Your power is evil, yes? Then master it. Do not let it control you—control it.”

Ciaran blinked, then nodded as tears streaming down his face. He wiped them away quickly, expression reddening in embarrassment. Then he gasps, growling as he gets away from them. Gabriel moves to stop him, but Kiara holds him back, shaking her head.

“He’s shedding. Watch.”

The exoskeleton covers his body entirely, but it’s fragile-looking, brittle. Ciaran makes a strangled growling sound as he hunches his back, as if spreading wings that do not exist. His shirt falls to the floor, torn by the spikes that have ripped through it and the tail that cuts him repeatedly. His claws have retracted, and his hands—which are claws in the sense of the word—are unbelievably stiff. He hunches his back again, falling onto all fours, as something actually begins to push against his skin, raising it as it does so. Ciaran is breathing heavily as that happens, the sound of him panting giving way to a loud cry as the thing in his back actually tears through the exoskeleton. That’s not all that tears through, either. An entirely different body tears its way free of the now former form of Ciaran.

This form looks more streamlined, more…deadly. It’s a lot like watching a wolf suddenly tear its way free of a cub’s body.

It burns the brittle shell with some sort of black fire before turning to face Gabriel and Kiara. She moves first, running up to it and giving it a warm hug.

“Ciaran, you made it!” she cheers. He nods, claws wrapping around her in a form of greeting. “What do you mean, I’m short?”

“Because you are,” Gabriel quipped, grinning when she glared at him. He gave Ciaran a congratulatory pat on the back. “Welcome, Ciaran. Glad you made it.”

“Thank you.”

“I have to ask, what is it like?”

“What do you mean?”

Gabriel was still adjusting to how Ciaran had changed. With his shedding, the boy had become more confident and out-spoken, though he still preferred not speaking unless necessary.

He had, however, discovered that Ciaran really did have an evil side to him that he kept under control. Adrian admitted that of the two, Ciaran was really the stronger—he got away with most of what he did by experience.

There were physical changes as well—his hair had gone from dark brown to a bright black. While Ciaran had been a skinny boy, he was now actually built, though that was more likely due to how much he’d been training over the months. He was also taller.

“I understand that you are a child of evil, but how do you ignore that?” Gabriel clarified.

Ciaran gave him a strange smile.

“I don’t,” he explained. “It’s more…I acknowledge it, but I don’t act on it. Like right now. You’re my best friend, but I want nothing more than to see how red your blood is. It’d be very pretty, I think. Or Kiara—she’s gorgeous, and I can’t tell you how often I’ve thought of thoroughly enjoying her. But I choose not to, because you’re my friend, and because she’s very dear to me. Doing those things is wrong. So I don’t.”

“Are there not times you cannot not do that?” Gabriel queried.

“There have been,” Ciaran admitted. “But my mother always told me that if I did something wrong, there would come a time someone I cared for would be severely hurt, even die, because of doing the wrong thing. So…I do what my real mother would have done at times like that. Incidents like when I attacked you are more because I’m scared of you more than anything else—Angels killed my parents. There’s rage, too.”

“You truly have my respect,” Gabriel said softly, processing what he’d said. “But I will admit, even when you are overwhelmed by your darkness, I do not sense evil. Yes, you are cruel at times, but not evil. Maybe you are not the evil you think you are.”

“Ha ha, I hope so, Gabriel,” Ciaran commented with a wry smile. “Maybe I can find a different outlet. I can’t kill anything, but surely there’s a use for that ability?”

“You know what a darkling is, yes?” Gabriel asked, grinning when Ciaran gave him a blasé look. “There are rogues, and those rogues plague human society. I typically hunt them, but it would be very welcome to have a partner. You could work alongside me—it’d be a good venue for you to train outside of sparring.”

“Now that,” and here Ciaran’s smile became twisted, “is a fun idea.”

“But there are rules, Ciaran,” Gabriel warned him, already aware of what he’d unleashed. “There will be no blood play. Torture is not allowed. And if you get out of hand during the fight, I’ll ban you from the next week’s hunts. You can kill, but be merciful about it.”

“Fine, fine,” Ciaran agreed, refusing to have his parade dampened. “But…what of the evil targets?”

“As in..?”

“Rapists, abusers, child molesters…their ilk. Do I have to be merciful to them as well?” Ciaran asked, his eyes hard. “Just because I am evil does not mean I do not have rules. Children are off limits. Women can be killed, but no more. Torture is a means to an end, an art form.”

“Strange…care to explain?” Gabriel prodded, inwardly shuddering at the smile on Ciaran’s face.

“A child is a gem,” Ciaran said simply. “Their innocence is a thing to be respected and cherished—the same for women. I was a child once. I wish no child to suffer what I have, and will not inflict it upon them. Women…it was a woman that protected me. It is a woman that has refused and defeated me, time and time again, with nothing more than a smile. It was a woman that saved me. They can be evil—moreso than I ever could—but they are to be respected.”

“It sounds to me, Ciaran, that you are not as evil as you think you are,” Gabriel told him. “True evil does not care for such things as rules—they do what they want how they want, regardless of the consequences. I believe you are the epitome of pure darkness, Ciaran.”

“Be that as that may,” Ciaran continued, that disturbing smile on his face, “I warn you now: any that are evil—and I know because that is what I was raised with—will suffer for what they have done.”

“…So be it,” Gabriel agreed. “Maybe then people will realize that there is most definitely a consequence for their actions.”

#nyxtales #nyx #my writing #akran saga #short story

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