#I can’t tell if they’re stupid or malicious or lying to themselves | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

calitraditionalism · 4 years ago

Text

Arc Two: Chapter Twelve

(AO3 counterpart here.)

It was a lovely day, all things considered. The thick patch of clouds had drifted off overnight, and the air was cool in the shade and pleasantly warm in the sun. The stones of the Clast camp were not hot yet, just sitting at a comfortable enough level of heat to stand and rest on. Aside from an argument between a native and one of Redheart’s followers, the camp was peaceful. Cats were sitting together and swapping conversation topics or gently batting each other after a dark remark. Beetlefoot watched a black apprentice chase and wrestle with a white one, saw Mistface stretched out and asleep against a sunny wall, listened in to Darkpelt coaching Littlepaw on retorts, much to Laurelclaw and Flyfang’s horror.

“That is entirely too bad of a swear for her to learn,” Flyfang was saying, trying to sound outraged and very poorly masking her amusement.

“It’s nice and effective, though, isn’t it?” Darkpelt replied, cheerful as ever. “That’ll stop any cat in their tracks.”

“Darkpelt, she’s an apprentice,” Laurelclaw protested. “Can’t she just use other words?”

“Well, where’s the fun in that?” Littlepaw tilted her head towards Darkpelt, who nodded approvingly. “Shouldn’t I learn all about language?”

“And I can’t exactly teach her how to hunt or fight,” Darkpelt added. “This is all I can give to our next generation.”

Laurelclaw, looking scandalized, muttered something, and the trio of mollies burst out laughing, to which he looked even more scandalized – though, like Flyfang, he was visibly on the brink of admitting that whatever he said was funny.

Beetlefoot, sitting in the shade by himself, just on the outer rim of the settlement, glared at the ground, tail twitching. How this whole “making friends” thing came so easily to everyone else was beyond him. Even Mistface, who hated talking to anyone but his family, had no trouble charming whoever he wanted to. Beetlefoot had caught Snowshine looking at him multiple times this past week, and besides her, Greyleaf had been more willing to take breaks and spend time with his brother. And Greyleaf himself – even with that nervousness, he was speaking to strangers and his Clast charges with increasing ease.

Beetlefoot just didn’t get it.

To be fair to himself, he had grown up in the Brae family, known as the hyper-conservative, reclusive and hostile gang of rumored inbreeding problems, all the way in the pine forest on the mountain to the east. They were not inclined to kindness nor socialization. He wasn’t given proper lessons on doing anything but scowling and getting out of places as fast as physically possible once he was old enough.

Still, from what he had heard, Flyfang was from the Marish, who weren’t much better, and she came out fine. It seemed like everyone else had some simple understanding of casual interaction except him.

He did his best to ignore a stab of an emotion he didn’t want to name, but knew what to call it entirely too well, that tightened his throat and gnawed at his ribcage.

In the Fleet, he had expected to at least find comrades who could tolerate his awkward presence for a while, but even there he was an outcast. The worst part was that it wasn’t even actively malicious – they were all just disinterested in him. He didn’t know how to talk to anyone and they didn’t teach him.

So here he was, in this constant state of sitting alone and being stuck with his stupid thoughts.

Aggressively, he shook his head. Enough of this internal bemoaning. He could find something to do that wasn’t whinging. Maybe he could visit Nettlecloud.

He stood up, unaware of his tail lashing once or twice, then turned around and stalked away along the wall of the house. When he got to the corner, he stepped away and started on a long circle around the settlement. He made himself straighten up and keep his tail still, and he decided to walk instead of trot. He didn’t know if he had much eagerness to go at a fast speed for once.

He passed several houses and the paths splitting them up. No cats were in the shade or even close to the edge of camp. He supposed that was good.

It turned out to be very good, because on a house set back just a little farther than the others, he overheard Redheart’s voice. Immediately, he stopped and crouched, using a hunter’s stalk to get closer to a small crack in the wall that seemed to go all the way through the stone and let voices carry. He settled there, ears perked.

“…with Coyotebite and Brightblaze on the second one,” Redheart said.

“That still leaves Bluetpetal and her kits,” Greyleaf replied. “And Ryestripe, if he does decide to come with us. He’s been saying he might change his mind.”

“Right…” Redheart hummed quietly in thought. “Peregrinefang did say something similar to me. If she agrees, she can protect them on the way. Perhaps I should go with them instead and split the first group up a little.”

“Maybe.” Greyleaf sounded like he was thinking too. “We really should get a look at the edge of the border ourselves. I heard what Thistletooth said, and he described it in great detail, I know, but it’d be better for morale if we can say with certainty what lies ahead.”

“And more cats would be inclined to follow us out,” Redheart agreed. “Still, there’s a lot to do here. I can’t find a good time to leave for that long of a trek.”

“Hm.”

There was a pause – a very heavy one – and Beetlefoot waited patiently for the conversation to continue.

It was Greyleaf who broke the silence. “Have you talked to the Runagate recently?”

Beetlefoot froze in place.

“They might know more, is all,” Greyleaf continued, voice low but perfectly calm – casual, even. “They’re always by the border, right?”

“I haven’t spoken with them recently,” Redheart said. “But you’re right. I’ll have to see if I can contact them tonight.”

The sound of a thick-furred tail swishing on the floor, and Greyleaf’s voice dropped down so quietly that Beetlefoot had to strain to hear. “They need to be more careful. I saw them at dawn today, walking around the stream. We got lucky that no one else was up.”

Redheart sighed. “I’ll tell them, if they come to me. Now is not the time to be seen.”

Silence again. This time, it went for so long that Beetlefoot finally crept away, every hair on his back bristling. He started on his walk again, now at his usual brisk trot with his tail bristled and lashing on its own. He was very thankful that no one was around to see him.

The conversation swirled in his head at record speed, coming to the end of it over and over, and he still had trouble grasping it.

It was one thing to be stupid enough to leave the Territory, and one thing to bring cats along to potentially starve and die in the outside world. It was another to be speaking with a demon, and invite it so close to a huge colony of innocents.

Beetlefoot had never been sure if the Runagate was real. Some part of him had always been afraid of it, much as one would be afraid of the blurred things on the edge of their eyesight, but he had not seen proof of its existence for himself. He wanted to make up an excuse – say that Redheart and Greyleaf were hallucinating, or lying to themselves. But the way they spoke of it, like it was a friend…

Beetlefoot picked up his pace. His tail started switching back and forth.

He couldn’t talk to Darkpelt about it yet. She was in the middle of the clearing and talking with cats who were not a part of this mission. Pulling her away to explain what he had just heard would very easily be seen as suspicious. Laurelclaw wouldn’t be much help – kind as he was, Beetlefoot could see him getting frightened and blowing their cover by acting afraid around Greyleaf and Redheart.

That left Mistface, then.

This was not going to go well.

Beetlefoot started looking through the paths between the houses, trying to find Mistface without stepping into clear view and possibly calling attention to himself (loathe as he was to admit it, he was quite alarmed and a bit frightened, and he knew it was showing on his face). The instant he caught sight of a pale grey pile of fluff, he jerked sideways and almost ran up to the tom.

“Mistface,” he hissed. When he didn’t get an immediate response, he prodded Mistface’s shoulder. “Wake up! This is important! And keep your voice down.”

Mistface attended to both orders, his irritation vanishing and replacing itself with concern. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Beetlefoot’s ears slicked back. “I’m not the one you should be saying that to.”

Mistface’s eyes roamed over him, the concern growing a little more. “What’s happened?”

Beetlefoot looked behind him, ahead of Mistface, and around them. No one was nearby. His claws unconsciously scraped at the stone under his feet.

“I’ve just overheard something your brother said,” he said. “And you are not going to like it.”

#warrior cats #steorra #arc two #chapter #chapter twelve #mistface #beetlefoot #greyleaf #redheart #laurelclaw #darkpelt #littlepaw #flyfang

4 notes · View notes

phantomphangphucker · 5 years ago

Text

A King For Tonight’s Fentertainment - Chap. 2: The Horde Plays Spot The Lord

Summary: Because, of course, Red couldn't keep her mouth shut. Add in, of course, his mom doing her usual. And, of course, Danny just can't fucking die.

Danny goes wide-eyed as Red slowly points to the air just above her head, pretty well sure she’s making some kind of reference to his crown. Which, if she’s able to see his ecto-field and his shedding off ectoplasmic energy, she’d be able to see his Ghost King shit. Danny gets jolted out of his worried gaping by Maddie’s gasp, “Danny, sweetie, how? It is you. But how? And, and the cape? Sweetie?”. Danny grumbles incoherently to himself, firmly annoyed at this confirmation of his worries. Sure his Ghost King shit looks great, and he rocks it; but the point of keeping it all invisible is so others, can’t, fucking, see, it.

Dash runs up, “oh I call bullshit!”, promptly nabbing the visor away. “Fentelephone?! What the fuck?”, Dash gapes as he raises and lowers the visor repeatedly, before just passing it off to people. Dash collects himself as the other remaining students and teachers all take turns gaping at Danny; while Danny looks around awkwardly at the stupid amount of attention and inquisitive eyes. Dash smirks, making a blatant attempt at making sure Danny keeps his loser wimp title. While Danny’s distracted by Maddie awkwardly patting at his shoulder, Dash walks over and shoves Danny’s other shoulder, “you’re the only one who could make a freaking cape look so lame, Fentoenail. You managed to make it look damn pathetic on your weak little loser frame”, Dash scoffs, “bet it’s some kind of weirdo loser crown. The ultimate weirdo, king of the freaks”. Danny can’t help but snort and rolls his eyes exaggeratedly at Dash. King of freaks wasn’t exactly wrong, and he was grade A fucking weird, nearly one of a kind. It’s a fair bit hard to be weirder or freakier than being half fucking dead.

Maddie turns towards Dash and puts her hands on her hips, “excuse me, young man?”.

“Uhh..”, Dash backs off rapidly.

But the odd settling in of normalcy is jarred away, as a ghost unicorn slams into the shield followed by an ectonet. Danny tilts his head up, full well knowing that’s Skulker he’s sensing and the net’s probably Skulkers. Sure enough, Skulker comes into view. Skulker looks around before shaking his head, “I’m not even going to ask, whelp. Also not foolish enough to even attempt breaking your barrier”. Danny groans and points over his shoulder at the two GIW agents, who are aggressively trying to grab onto the visor but everyone’s basically playing keep away. Skulker sighs at the agents, “seriously?”, looking back at Danny, “you better keep them in there”, grinning maliciously, “or maybe don’t, I could use some new prey”.

Danny snorts but Maddie speaks to Danny before he can respond to Skulker, who promptly flies off looking to avoid any Phantom trademarked humour, “Danny! Ignore that! You should know better than to converse with ectofilth!”.

Danny looks back down towards his mom, “uh, isn’t getting Amity back to the Human Realm more important than who I talk to?”. Mr. Lancer raises an eyebrow, “Human Realm? Would that happen to be another term for earth?”. Danny puts his hands up again awkwardly and takes a step back, “heh heh”, promptly bumping into Dex, a tenth grader. Who’s wearing the visor and now attempting to feel the cape, Danny attempts to not laugh at how silly the guy looks; mostly failing. But this results in agent G nabbing the visor away.

Red grabs and drags Danny away from the, starting to get too close for comfort, crowd. Maddie scurrying after and grabbing onto his other wrist, jerking the two teens to a stop. Danny looks back and forth between the two huntresses yanking on his arms and sighs. While agent G shouts at Danny, “you! Not a ghost but you’re freaking leaking ectoenergy! You might as well be! And-and you’re wearing ghost clothing! Ghost items! No human should stoop so low as to be anything like those ghost freaks!”. Both agents start stalking towards him, while Danny glares at them over the petty insults before yanking his wrists free of their respective gripping ladies.

Danny backflips over top of Red. With Kwan, the one now wearing the visor after punching agent L, easily seeing Danny’s cape billowing and flapping in the air. While the GIW agents stalk after Danny aggressively, agent L glaring at the jock but ignoring him in favour of harassing the ghostly teen.

Red spins around, “Danny what?!?”, as Danny lands softly behind her. While agent L snaps, twitching the ectogun in his hand, “trying to hide behind a proper human! A ghost hunter at that! You’re worse than ectofilth! A human donning the clothing of monsters!”. Agent G points at him, “you’re probably why there’s latent ectoplasm here! Or it’s the fault of those ecto-artifacts! Relinquish them! Or we will shoot you! And we won’t feel bad about shooting some human who lowers themselves to that of those ectoplasmic entities!”.

Now Danny’s just flat-out annoyed, verging on angry. Making his ectofield pulse aggressively and threateningly; which Maddie, having easily re-obtained the visor from Kwan, flinches at. Not liking seeing her son be anything close to ghostly. Knowing he was highly ectocontaminated was one thing, this was another. Clearly the agents weren’t really wrong, her boy was ghostly. But even still, she’s not about to tolerate anyone berating or threatening her son. Maddie turns and snaps at the men, “you will leave my son alone! I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for this”, turning back towards Danny, “right sweetie?”.

Red twitches slightly, “uh yeah Danny, care to explain all of”, gesturing at the air above his head and around his shoulders, “this?”.

Agent L barks, “we said remove your ghostly possession now!”. Agent G speaks up as-well while taking a step forward, ectogun creaking in his hands, “and please, mam, step away from him”. Danny groans, wanting everyone to shut up.

He doesn’t get his wish as Red snaps her head around, “oh shut up, I trust him more and faster than I could shoot the both of you. Which is damn fast by the way”.

“There’s nothing lowly about me. No, I’m better for this”, Danny sighs, steeling himself, before looking up and smirking. Placing a hand on his hip and moving in a way to drag his cape over half of himself, the white flames of the collar licking energetically at his chin and cheek. It still being invisible making the mildly threatening effect lost, but it makes Danny feel more powerful all the same, “no, I’m just right. And no I won’t be “relinquishing” anything. Not like I actually could anyway”.

Danny puts his hands in his pockets and rocks on his heels, looking around with a goofy grin. Officially deciding he’s gotta pretty well open up here, cause, like, everyone has seen his shit now. Smirking and turning back to the men, who still have their guns point towards him, “even offing me ain’t gonna make these babies fuck off. Naw, you’d have to double kill me. Make a ghost of the ghost of the person, ya know?”, tapping his chin, “ghostify me to de-ghostify me? Ghost the ghost to ghost the not ghost. Sorta. Words are a wonderful thing, huh?”.

“Danny get to the point for fucks sake”.

“Sweetie, what do you mean you can’t take it off? Surely you could and that would solve part of the issue, right? That stuff’s what’s making the ectofield and shedding ectoenergy, right?”. Danny can’t help but inwardly cringe at Maddie’s words. But it was a damn good cover story, and the crown really did have its own ectofield so it wasn’t even lying.

Sighing and slumping before straightening up, clearly seeing everyone paying acute attention to him, “you’re not wrong, nor are those moronic agents. But y’all are also not right”, Danny then mutters to himself, “I mean they’re straight fucking wrong about the pissing on ghosts crap, but that’s not really new information”, before looking to his mom. Smiling softly, “we’re not here cause of my accessories. Me removing it, if that was even possible, would achieve nothing. No, we’re here cause two idiots dumped fucking pixie dust meant to send ghostly lairs to the Ghost Zone, onto a ghostly lair. This place was a lair long before I got any of this stuff, my stuff is not at fault. It never was”.

“Bullshit! I said before! Ghosts can’t have earth lairs! They ca-”. Danny cuts the agent off, tilting his head back and groaning loudly at the sky, “oh would you shut up!”. Snapping his head back down, forcibly keeping his angry ectoenergy out of his eyes as he responds, “I would have thought, after all these years. All ‘o y’all would have realised you’re useless twats. You can’t tell the difference between ghost fact and ghost I-believe-this-cause-I’m-a-bigoted-moron. A ghost could take a piss on your front lawn and you’d think they were bleeding or part dog or some shit”.

Paulina, wearing the visor now, whimpers a little, “even the air energy thingy looks angry”.

While Danny steps out from around Red with an intense gaze on the two agents, hair fluffing out like some anime bullshit, “but there’s one thing you guys do get right about lairs. If you wanna destroy a lair, or, in this case, make a place no longer a lair. Well, you’ve gotta destroy its keeper. Little late to do that though, since y’all already zapped us into the Ghost Zone, like crappy teleportation lightening. And somehow, I doubt that even if lightning struck twice, that it would send Amity back to the Human Realm”.

Both the men raise their weapons at him but Danny just shrugs, glaring at their faces and paying the weapons no mind, which is a bit disconcerting to the men, “so you’re kind of in a catch twenty-two, kill the lair keeper to rid Amity Park of its ghostliness but thusly making it impossible for Amity to return to the Earth Realm. Or get Amity Park back to the Earth Realm but thusly failing in your mission to rid Amity Park of ghosts and all things ghostly”. Both men grit their teeth at him while Danny just laughs mockingly, “but then again only one of these two options are actually options. Two things impossible to you but only one with any real possibility. Possible impossibility. Sorry not sorry, you can’t destroy this lairs keeper”.

Dash sputters, “what the hell happened to Fentripod, how could that weak loser seem even slightly threatening...”. Earning nervous nods from both Paulina, who’s clinging to Dash’s arm, and Kwan, who’s more in awe than startled.

While Danny walks up to the men, letting their guns push into his chest, chuckling darkly, “even white suit scum like you will hesitate pulling the trigger on a seventeen-year-old human kid”, smirking as multiple people gasp, “you're right, no ghosts got a Human Realm lair. No. But a human certainly does. Heck! Amity Park isn’t even the only human Ghostly Lair. Though-”. Maddie cuts Danny off, starting to become a bit put off by his unusual aggressiveness, even if it’s thickly laced with mocking humour, “Danny what are you saying?!? I’m the leading scientist on these matters, that shouldn’t be possible?”.

Danny’d like to get to actually finish speaking for a change but doesn’t get to respond as he picks up motion from the agents, motion aiming to harm him. Danny quickly twists and leans sideways, avoiding an ectoshot from agent L, before springing backwards. Maddie turns on the agent, “WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING”, before punching him in the face.

Danny whistles and smirks at the downed agent. While agent G gets his gun right into Danny’s face, and just as agent G goes to shoot. Danny thoroughly confuses the agent by smirking, “you’re wasting your time”, before agent G fires the gun.

26 notes · View notes

neosy · 5 years ago

Text

all the angels -- &gael

careful.

*********************************************************************************************************

it’s late when gael starts closing his shop for the night, clearing tables, cleaning up loose oil and trying to keep everything as tidy as he possibly can in such specific quarters, the concrete of the walls and floors something he’d always hated, something that prevented the space from ever being too comfortable. he still tried to make it welcoming, his intentions that all species, mechanical or not, would be content coming here for whatever repairs they may need, whatever broken things needed fixing. he loved the feeling of bringing something back to life, something stationary beginning to move again, though admittedly that wasn’t the whole reason he had opened a shop here -- flashes of a certain face, of a certain voice that he hadn’t seen in awhile bouncing around his mind. gael didn’t like persephone, he didn’t like the people, he didn’t like the planet but ares had chosen the location for him, and gael wasn’t one to complain, wasn’t one to be too picky. he ached to think about it, to think about him, instead busying himself further he started wiping down surfaces and shutting down different machines, storing different parts.

it isn’t until he’s almost finished that it happens, that the world pauses stark still, it’s so late, he should’ve already been home, he should’ve been sleeping, but he wasn’t and because of that -- a sound like a boom reverberates through the room, his heart stuttering in his chest as he turns, presses his back against the wall. not one or two but three men stand in his shop, tall, wide-shouldered, and looming, they make their way towards him. he can’t even speak, his throat closed up, his heart vibrating in his chest, eyes wide. it happens too fast. they throw tables and wreck everything in their paths, hands outstretched towards him, he tries to disappear, to move, to do anything but he’s frozen in his spot, he’s scared, oh, god, he’s scared and they don’t have any desire to lessen his fear, his pain, because as soon as they’re close enough there’s hands on him, blunt force swinging at his skull that cracks the world open a bright red that flares into black.

then he’s floating, he’s detached, the feeling of rumbling the only thing that tells him he’s alive, the feeling of the world moving underneath him, he doesn’t know what it means, he doesn’t know where he is or where he’s going, hasn’t even begun to process what has happened.

when he wakes up he’s in a room not unlike his shop -- concrete walls, concrete floors, but this was not made to feel kind, not made to feel welcoming. it was cold, his eyes blinking, the world blurred. he tried to move, something was wrong, something was sore, everything hurt, everything hurt so badly that his lungs struggled to find air, they burned when he pulled in breath. his arm of flesh and bone, the one he was born with moves slowly, moves poorly, he feels the blood pumping through it, feels his heartbeat in every move he makes. the one that’s mechanical, the one he built and relied on is gone, confiscated surely, taken out of uncertainty -- an arm built by man can do many things. he immediately feels it’s loss, feels half as useful, half as strong as he had when he was ambushed. he feels more useless than ever, feels taken apart.

he blinks wearily, relieved that they hadn’t taken his eye, then he tries to sit up but just as quickly drops back to the floor as the room spins, as the blood rushes to his head. he doesn’t know where he is, he doesn’t know what’s going on, there’s a terrible throbbing behind his skull, radiating down his neck, down his spine. he’s alone for a long time, how long exactly he isn’t sure, not even aware of how long he’d been out, how many hours or days had already passed. was anyone looking for him? what did they want with him? besides occasional illegal modifications or under the table repairs he was innocent, especially among those alive on persephone, he hadn’t done anything worthy of this, didn’t have any information worth extracting. was there even a reason at all?

when the door opens he finally sits upright, legs sliding him back against the furthest wall, that wretched heartbeat blaring in his ears, his face warm and flushed, so afraid he feels tears welling up, he feels prepared to beg already, to plead to be free before even finding out why he was there, before they could even touch him. one eye glistens big and brown, the other glows dully, a bright blue staring up at the intruder, a wide-open face, not the face of a criminal, but that of a child, of fear and hell. the man smiles down at him, a large scar ripped down the side of his face, the grin is terrifying, his back is straight and tall but he squats down to be level with gael, his eyes so dark they seem black in the poor lighting, bleached hair falling long down his neck. he looks at gael and says, “this doesn’t have to be so bad. we just have some questions, just need you to hold tight until we get what we want. no one needs to get hurt anymore than this, right?” it sounds like venom, sounds like poison on his tongue and gael flinches at the baritone of his voice.

he doesn’t respond at first, waiting for a blow to land, waiting for permission to speak, for something, anything, but when the silence stretches he tries to calm himself down, tries to breathe, tries to slow the shaking of his body. “what do you want? what is this about?” he hates the way his voice sounds, the way it breaks, the way he has to choke it from his throat. he feels pitiful, feels weak. he hates that in himself, he hates it so suddenly and intensely, so fiercely, he hates that thing that makes him who he is, that horrible, horrible weakness. he bites down on his tongue, jaw tight.

“we’re looking for someone and we think you might know where he is.” that horrible smile widens, it spreads like a disease across his face, the place where his lips are scarred pulling, making him look more sinister still. “we’re looking for the machine known as ares.”

of course that’s who its about, of course it’s ares, how could he be so stupid? who else would it be, who else is dangerous enough, who else is important enough? of course it was ares, of course it was. he says “i don’t know, i don’t know.” and his voice is shaking, the one arm he has pulled tightly against his chest, his whole body vibrating in shock, pumped with adrenaline and fear. he says again, “i don’t know!”

“you’re lying to me.” to man sneers and there’s a click, gael’s eyes following down to a knife positioned between the man’s fingers and he begins playing with it casually, flipping it open and closed and something between a whimper and a groan escapes gael’s mouth, his head slamming itself back against the wall so hard he sees white, the fear seizing his lungs, his body struggling to find air. gael wasn’t meant for these things, wasn’t trained in it, had never lived through anything like it. he wasn’t strong enough, he wouldn’t make it if they tried to force information he didn’t have from him, couldn’t even find a good lie to cover it.

it sends ice water, a chill visible under his skin. “please, please! i don’t know where ares is, i don’t know when he’ll be back he doesn’t tell me.” gael thinks that maybe that’s because of something like this, thinks that maybe ares doesn’t tell him in case gael where to find himself in this situation, in case gael sells him out, in case he could be tracked. ares knows that gael is weak, he knows it, he knows he’d cave, not because he doesn’t want to protect him but because he can’t handle it, he’s too fragile, too easy to break. then again, he’s always thought that was what ares liked about him, what he wanted from him.

it’s ok when it’s him, it’s always ok when it’s ares’ being the one to hurt him but this man in front of him, his twisted smile already turning to a wolf, to a snarl with shown teeth, sharpened canines, no, this would not be ok, this would not be survivable, not for someone like him.

“well, then you better hope he comes to find you fast.” it’s malicious, it’s evil and tainted so horribly, he sounds sure, sounds like he means it, like gael should be hoping, should be praying.

but he doesn’t know about that. gael doesn’t know how important he actually is, doesn’t know that if it comes down to ares’ own survival or gael’s that he’ll put himself on the line. maybe it’s just his own lack of self worth, his own insecurity, or maybe it’s the truth, but he doesn’t know for sure ares would look for him, doesn’t know how long it’ll take him to realize he’s even gone. the thought just adds a sense of hopelessness, a different kind of panic. gael grits his teeth, voice wobbling, trying to hold in the fear, the tears, the anxiety that makes him feel as if he’s going to throw up, like he’s going to cry. “you’re overestimating how important i am. no one’s coming.”

the man looks at him for a long time, something moving behind his eyes, eyebrows finding themselves higher on his face as he says, “you better fucking pray you’re wrong, because we’re not wasting resources. if he doesn’t try to find you you’ll fucking starve or we’ll put you down ourselves. our sources say you’re important to him but it is possible you’re just a mechanic with a happy ending. what a shame that would be.” and suddenly he reaches out and immediately gael freezes, panic shooting through his mind until he can’t control himself, his arm tightening around his body, curling into himself, fist tight in his own shirt, just now noticing the dried blood down his neck and he screams, desperate, afraid, urgent,

“don’t touch me! don’t touch me! please don’t fucking touch me! i can’t, i can’t, i’ll die, i’ll die!” and he’s greeted with grit teeth and a hard laugh, forced and cruel, a hand clamping on his wrist, pulling it from his body with the strength gael doesn’t have, had never had, and the touch of a blade sliding down the back of his arm.

everything turns white.

days pass like this, days never end this way, he bleeds and scabs over only to bleed again. he gets interrogated every day, sometimes by the same man, sometimes by others. by the fifth day he’s numb, by the fifth day he doesn’t speak anymore, doesn’t beg. he does cry, though, he can’t help it, he does scream sometimes, but he was always been too easily broken. he hasn’t eaten since he was put here. he feels empty, he feels hollow, he can’t move without his ribs and head and everything aching so he stops moving. the days stretch on with nothing to do but feel pain and stare at concrete walls. he doesn’t know how long he can do this, so little time had passed but he’d already asked them to just to kill him, to get it over with, had said over and over that no one was coming. he already believed it.

by then they talk to him, and it’s sick, really. they know for sure he knows nothing and yet they still do it, they still press him and press him and when they grow bored they talk to him. they talk to him about all kinds of things, but he hears one name the most, “beom-gyu.” apparently he’s the boss, apparently he’s busy, and apparently that leaves all the torturing and handling prisoners to the lesser members. poor them, he thinks, how unfortunate for them. they have the nerve to vent to him, and the worst part is he listens. he listens and stares blankly at them when they sit across the cell and tell of their woes. people always told him he was easy to talk to. his brown eye is dull behind the iris, his muscles never loosen, always tense, always tight, and his blue eye glows on, the only part of him that still looks entirely alive and it’s not even real. his body turns weak quickly, and the few times their words fall on deaf ears he’s punished for it, quizzing him for fun, stringing him out, breaking him down.

so he listens.

he listens, and listens, and listens and somehow it keeps him sane, something outside the bareness of the room, the steady cold temperature of the floor, the hurt in his limbs, the disastrous deterioration in his mind. everything was swollen and sore, he barely slept, when he did it was curled into a ball in the corner of his cell, only feeling safe trapped in his own limbs, his own flesh. he doesn’t even try to escape, doesn’t try to fight, hasn’t attempted even once. he shuts it off the best he can, he doesn’t think about what life was not even a week ago, he doesn’t think about what it could be a week from now, a month from now, he doesn’t think about death. he doesn’t think about ares. they say his name so often that gael’s learned to separate it from the person he knows, learned to make it just another word, no face behind it, no love. sometimes, for just a moment, he hates him. he can’t help it, he thinks it’s his fault, his fault he didn’t prepare him, his fault he didn’t protect him. gael gave up everything to help ares, to love him, and now he was going to die for it. now he was scarred from it, even if he somehow escaped, even if ares came now, a thought gael had given up on, gael didn’t know how to get past this, if he even could. he knew that wasn’t fair, knew he took the risks on his own, knew how dangerous ares really was and, god, he loved him, he loved him.

how easy it was to ruin him so wholly. weak, weak, so weak, he knew it would happen this way, knew he would rot too quickly, he’s not strong like ares, not invincible like him.

and so he waits and waits and waits and hopes that it’ll just be over soon.

#all the angels #tw torture #tw kidnapping #tw violence #( penned -- gael )#serenity. gael.

1 note · View note

eleanor-writes-stuff · 6 years ago

Text

making out in the mouth of the devil [one-shot]

For his first assignment as Snoke’s apprentice, Ben is ordered to retrieve a powerful Force-sensitive child from Jakku named Rey. Together they become the most feared and powerful Force users in the galaxy. Together they learn to hide parts of themselves away from Snoke. Together they find strength and comfort and love – until the day Snoke finds out and tears them apart.

But now Snoke is finally dead, Kylo is the new Supreme Leader, and he can’t wait to see Rey again.

Enter Kira Ren, summoned to the Supremacy by a suspicious Hux. She’s Snoke’s most prized weapon, she’s pissed that her master is dead, and she has no memory at all of Ben’s love for her.

For Day 3 - Canon Divergence of Reylo AU Week.

It’s the ‘Ben and Rey trained under Snoke together/some of TFA happened/very little of TLJ happened’ AU no one ever asked for! Come for the angst, stay for the angst. Also, a happy ending.

Also available on AO3.

The sleek black transport, a TIE fighter much like his own, boards the Supremacy just a day after he declares himself the new Supreme Leader.

Kylo chokes on a lump in his throat, thinks maybe his heart has dislodged itself at the sight. Because there’s only one other Silencer in the entire galaxy, only two of these customized ships he’d overseen the creation of, and there can only be one person flying that ship.

“I thought she might be interested in an audience with you, given… recent events,” Hux says from where he stands next to Kylo, eyes fixed on the same ship. His lips curl into something between a sneer and a smirk, a look only the insufferable General could be capable of. We have a guest, the kriffing piece of work had claimed when he barged into a meeting and insisted that the Supreme Leader had an urgent matter to attend to. A guest, as if she hadn’t grown up on this very flagship with them, as if the Supremacy hadn’t been her home up until two years ago.

She emerges from the ship, and while some part of him notes Hux moving forward to greet her, Kylo himself is rooted to the spot, incapacitated by his first glimpse of her since the worst day of his life. In his mind he pushes Hux aside, runs to her and picks her up in his arms, kisses her in front of the whole damn ship because there’s no one to stop them now, no one to fear, Snoke is dead and he’s Supreme Leader and finally, finally there’s nothing standing in their way–

In reality the blood in his veins turns to ice when her eyes perform a cursory sweep of her surroundings and she fixes him with a hateful glare the likes of which he’s never been on the receiving end of. Dread gnaws at him, Snoke’s last words taking on new meaning as she continues to glare at him until Hux steps forward and pulls her attention away.

“Welcome back, Lady Ren,” Hux simpers as he moves to take her hand, only for her to brush past him and leave the general rushing to catch up.

“Make sure that my things are moved to my old room,” she commands without so much as a look back at Hux. “And no one is to touch my ship.”

Her eyes snap back to him then, and Kylo finally regains control of himself, steps forward to greet her as she makes her way towards him, sure strides with her head held high and her shoulders straight, every inch the intimidating Knight the whole galaxy warns each other about in hushed whispers.

He can’t wait until they’re out of sight, just the two of them, when she’ll let the tension drain out of her shoulders and look at him with an uncharacteristic softness in her eyes, maybe even tears, Force knows he’ll probably shed a few of his own, it’s been so long–

“Kylo,” she says curtly as they meet each other in the middle. Up close, the passage of time is undeniable: her face has lost what little roundness it had before, her bone structure is more prominent than it had been, and her eyes… her eyes have that look to them that he sees in his own reflection every morning, a look that speaks of things he’d spent the better part of a decade trying to shield her from.

Painfully aware of Hux hovering just a few feet behind her and the rest of the ship watching, Kylo offers her a mere nod. “Kira.”

It’s not a name that comes naturally to him, not the one he’s spent the past two years whispering in his mind, but it’ll have to do for now. “We must speak,” she declares, and doesn’t wait for a reply before she’s stalking away and into the bowels of the ship.

Kylo wastes no time in following her, allows himself to be yanked into the first empty room they stumble upon – an interrogation room with a locking door and thick walls, coincidentally.

“Rey,” he breathes as soon as the door is secured behind them, lunges forward to take her face in his hands and kiss her for the first time in two years. “Stars, I’ve missed you so much–”

She sends him flying through the air before he can get within two feet of her, his back colliding painfully with a wall of instruments. “Murderous snake!” Rey snarls, her outstretched hand squeezing his windpipe from across the room. “Our master? How could you? How could you!” Her fingers curl into a tight fist, and he nearly blacks out before he can summon the willpower to fight against her chokehold.

“What–” Kylo sputters as he staggers to his feet. “What are you talking about? Rey, don’t you see–”

“Stop calling me that!” she growls, brushing aside her cloak to reach for the saber at her hip. “I’ve had enough of your manipulations to last me a lifetime, Kylo Ren!”

Her familiar purple saber comes to life with a hum, and he watches in a dreamlike-haze as Rey comes closer, charges at him with every intention of–

“What are you talking about?” he grunts, his own saber crackling to life just in time to lock with hers. “Rey, I don’t understand–”

“Did you think I would forget?” she seethes, stepping back with a frustrated cry to disengage from him. “Did you really think two years would be enough for me to move past a decade of your treachery? And now this!” Rey adds before he can ask her what the hell she’s talking about. “I should have known this day would come. Our own master, Kylo! Are you really so much of a monster that you would kill the man who rescued us, who made us everything we are?”

When she charges at him again, he’s prepared to parry her blows. Fighting against each other is a pointless exercise when he’s the one who taught her everything she knows, and there’s only so much space for her to back away in this cramped room. Before long, her back lands against the wall with a thud and their blades screech as he knocks her saber to the ground.

“I killed the man who tore us apart, the man who took you away from me!” Kylo reminds her, his saber just close enough to her throat to keep her still. He searches her eyes for recognition, for understanding, for anything other than the blazing hatred he can’t make sense of.

Rey lets loose another frustrated cry as she calls his bluff, shoves at him knowing that he won’t actually hurt her and ducks under his arm to stomp across the room. At the door, she calls her saber to her side and extinguishes it.

“You can stop lying now,” she tells him coldly, her eyes suspiciously bright as her hand hits the control pad for the locks. “The pathetic, weak, stupid girl who thought you loved her – she’s long gone. And know this, Kylo Ren: I won’t fall for your tricks ever again.”

She sweeps out of the room, her cloak swirling behind her in a flurry of black wool and blood-red lining. In her absence there is only the crackle of his saber and his own harsh, winded pants as he slides down to the ground and tries to make sense of the past twenty minutes.

“Rey,” he murmurs, bits and pieces slowly falling into place in his mind. “What did he do to you?”

It’s strange, being back on the Supremacy after a year on the Finalizer.

“Home sweet home,” Rey mutters in the elevator, and he reaches out to squeeze her hand just once. He wishes they didn’t have their gloves on – skin-on-skin contact is the only way to really calm her down – but then again, he wishes a lot of things.

Rey turns to offer him a tight smile anyway, despite the nerves bleeding into their connection. He wants to tell her to breathe, to calm down, to center herself before Snoke can get suspicious, but the doors slide open before he can do so and suddenly they’re out of time.

“My children,” their master’s voice rings out across his cavernous throne room, far more unsettling than Ben remembers it being. A year of communicating via holo had dulled the edges of Snoke’s malicious presence, but now it’s returned to hit the both of them in full force. “Come, come forward. We have much to discuss.”

Rey shuffles forward on reluctant feet; Ben positions himself in front of her to keep Snoke from noticing. “Master,” he intones when they reach the center of the room, dropping to one knee.

Beside him, but a safe distance away, Rey does the same.

“Look at you,” Snoke rasps in that paper-thin voice he’s known ever since he was a child. “My children, so strong, so loyal, so obedient… so, so foolish.”

He tenses at the abrupt shift in Snoke’s voice, how it’s suddenly grown cold and sharp. Panic floods their bond; Rey knows as well as he does that this sudden shift never means anything good.

Ben sends her a wave of reassurance as he raises his head to look at Snoke. “Master, I don’t–”

“Silence!” Snoke’s voice echoes off the red walls. “I will not have you lie to me, Kylo Ren. Not any more than you already have.” He pushes himself off his throne, rises to his full height to present them with the grotesque sight of his decaying, deformed body. “Did you think you could lie to me? Did you think you could hide from me? I know every corner of your mind, I know every dark thought, every paralyzing fear, every sickly-sweet daydream.”

Snoke turns to Rey then, and even with her head bent and her eyes still firmly fixed on the ground, she can feel it. Her breath grows short, her heartrate picks up – he sends wave after wave of calm at her, whispers reassurances into their bond, but all of it is lost on Rey, blinded by her panic.

“Kira Ren,” Snoke laughs mockingly. “Scourge of the galaxy, destroyer of worlds. I have wondered, my child. Wondered how someone who burns entire villages to the ground and rips minds to shreds could be so soft, so weak at the very heart of you. I suppose now we know.”

“You have always been weak! How many fires has Kylo set for you, how many innocents has he tormented in your name, all to keep me from realizing how sentimental you are?”

“Master, please–” Rey sobs, her entire form trembling in fear and shame.

“And now this!” Their master shoves an image into their mind with barely any effort, rips through their carefully constructed barriers to slap them with a vision straight out of Rey’s dreams: the two of them on a quiet, peaceful planet somewhere, no Snoke or First Order or Knights of Ren here, just Rey and Ben and their child between them, Ben’s hand on her stomach while the baby kicks–

“Pathetic,” Snoke scoffs. “What a disappointment you turned out to be, the both of you.”

“It’s not her fault,” Ben says, scrambles to his feet to position himself between Rey and their master. “I’m the one to blame, Kira only went along with–”

Snoke waves, sends him skittering across the floor. “Save your breath, my child. You embarrass yourself by even trying to lie to me.”

“What…” Rey whispers from her spot on the ground, finally daring to lift her eyes up to meet Snoke. “What are you going to do to us?”

A smile stretches across his face, and it strikes fear into their hearts. “Oh, my dear, sweet Rey: nothing, my child, nothing at all. But perhaps the better question would have been, what are you two going to do to each other?”

They fight against it, they really do.

But when Snoke locks them into place in front of each other, Ben’s saber at her throat and Rey’s at his heart, and tells them to either fight each other of their own will or kill each other under his will, there is no other choice.

The battle goes on for what feels like an eternity, the two of them reluctantly circling each other before Snoke warns them to get on with it. Their blades come into contact again and again but neither of them land any blows, and out of the corner of his eye Ben can see Snoke getting impatient, bored, lightning crackling threateningly at his fingertips–

He slows down by two seconds, feigns to the left as expected but doesn’t correct himself when Rey swings her blade, and allows the blow to connect.

The pain knocks him off his feet; Rey’s cry of horror tears at his heart while Snoke hisses in satisfaction.

“Ben!” Rey screams, throwing her lightsaber aside as she falls to her knees and gathers him in her arms. “Ben, why?”

His right eye won’t open, or maybe he just can’t see out of it anymore; it’s hard to tell when he can still hear the sound of his flesh sizzling against the saber, when he can clearly feel where the fabric of his shirt has melted into his skin . “I don’t know what he’ll do to the loser,” he whispers as Rey pushes his hair out of his face, “but I couldn’t let it be you.”

Rey lowers her forehead to his, careful to avoid his open wound. “I love you,” she sobs against his lips. “No matter what happens after this, I love you, I’ll always love you–”

She shrieks when two medics pull Ben away, a whole team of them appearing out of nowhere. Of course Snoke had no intention of losing either of his apprentices; death was never a possible outcome, but Ben knows their master is capable of a fate even worse than that and whatever it is, he cannot, will not let Rey suffer through it.

Through the bond he sends her what little peace he can muster, draws it from the knowledge that he’ll bear the brunt of Snoke’s ire and she’s safe for now. I love you, Ben reminds her as the medics roughly drag him away.

“Kira,” he hears Snoke call out, sees her slowly turning around to face their master. “My child,” Snoke intones warmly, “my greatest triumph, my most dangerous weapon-”

They drag him into the elevator. The last he ever sees of Rey is her back turned to him, her shoulders slumped in defeat and heartache.

The next morning, Hux decides to review some surveillance footage.

“I thought Lady Ren could get some closure by witnessing her master’s last moments,” he says neutrally when Kylo comes storming into the room, having only found out about this when he asked a passing trooper about Rey’s whereabouts.

Rey stands in the center of the room, her eyes trained on the screen. They’ve paused on him entering Snoke’s throne room, just seconds before the conversation begins.

Not that anyone other than him will ever get to hear it; Snoke was ridiculously paranoid about this one specific thing, and never allowed any audio recording equipment in his rooms. The holo is entirely visual-only, which is why he doesn’t move to override her when Rey turns to the officer manning the controls and orders him to proceed.

Kylo can feel Hux’s accusing glare on him as the recording plays, but he’s too busy reliving the moment to bristle at the General’s continued suspicion.

It was Hux’s fault he was even in Snoke’s throne room to begin with – the rat had somehow found out that he’d chosen to spare Han Solo on Starkiller Base, to let his father get away instead of killing him the way Snoke had commanded him to. Hux wasted no time in reporting this back to Snoke, who demanded a meeting with Kylo the second he boarded the Supremacy.

Without audio, there’s no telling that Snoke was berating him for his weakness. Perhaps I was wrong to send Kira Ren away. You, Ben Solo, you were the sentimental one all along.

It was the first time his master had mentioned Rey since that awful day, and Kylo couldn’t help himself. He lunged forward, demanded to know where Rey was and what Snoke had done with her. Snoke threw his head back and laughed, reaffirmed that Kylo really was the weak one after all. Kira will be pleased to return, I think. Even more so when she learns that she will be replacing you.

Throughout their time apart, the only measure of solace Kylo had found had been in the knowledge that Rey was far away from Snoke, away from any hurt he could inflict upon her. The thought of her coming back, of her taking his place and kneeling before Snoke every day, carrying out his twisted orders, bearing his rage and torment when he’s disappointed… that was what had compelled him to draw his saber against his master.

Rey and Hux aren’t privy to that, of course. All they see is Snoke mocking him, and then Kylo’s saber crackling to life. Snoke only laughed harder then, telling him he wouldn’t dare, egging him on.

Do it, Kylo Ren! Be the Sith your grandfather never became, kill your master and take your rightful place. Do it, you coward!

One minute Snoke was laughing and snarling like a crazed beast; the next he had Kylo’s saber firmly embedded in his heart.

Rey gasps when Snoke falls forward, further impaling himself on the saber. Hux plasters on a mask of shock and horror, but Kylo knows there isn’t even a single shred of grief in him, that all he’s thinking about is turning Rey against Kylo so that he’ll have an ally when he finally stages his coup.

On screen, Kylo stumbled forward, pulled his blade out of his master’s chest. Blood came gushing out, staining Snoke’s robe as he turned his head towards Kylo. This is far from over. You and I will meet again soon, my apprentice, when your beloved sends you to me for what you’ve done.

Kylo had been confused, had reached out to yank Snoke up by his collar with a demand to know what he was talking about.

Let me show you, Snoke had laughed cruelly even as the life drained from him, just how weak love makes a man.

His last words hadn’t made sense then. They do now.

“He was proud of me,” Kylo lies when Rey and Hux turn accusing eyes on him. “Surprised, but proud. He said he never thought I had it in me, to carry on the Sith tradition.”

Hux looks genuinely confused. “The Sith tradition?”

Of course he wouldn’t know; terrified of the Force as he is, Hux has gone out of his way to avoid any and all encounters with or knowledge about it.

“The Rule of Two,” Rey says dismissively as she takes deliberate, measured steps towards Kylo. “But Snoke wasn’t a Sith lord, and neither of us are Sith,” she says quietly, for their ears only. “He would never have agreed to this.”

To the rest of the room she says, “Destroy the recording. It upsets me, and I have no wish to stumble upon it ever again.”

Hux springs into action, halting the officer with a frantic gesture to pause. “Wait, my Lady, what about–”

“You saw it as clearly as I did, General: Lord Snoke intended for this to happen,” Rey shrugs. “He seemed pleased that it had. I do not see evidence of any of your claims,” she adds coldly. “This has been a waste of my time.”

“But… but-!” Hux sputters as Rey makes to leave the room.

“A word,” she snaps at Kylo as she brushes past, and he follows her out into the hallway expecting a repeat of yesterday’s fight. She must have her reasons as to why she protected him from Hux, but there’s no way Rey – this Rey, Kira Ren through and through – will let him get away with it.

Rey stops right outside the door, showing no signs of anger. “Did you know,” she begins almost conversationally, “that I’ve picked up lip reading?”

Kylo’s ears start to ring.

“Snoke was the one who revealed your tricks to me, the one who told me that you were just using me all along,” Rey continues, leaning against the wall opposite him with her arms crossed. Her brows knit together in thought, perhaps confusion, as she asks, “So what was all of that?”

That was the truth, he wants to scream. “Rey, I–”

She shakes her head, pushes herself off the wall. “No. Don’t. I don’t want to hear it. Not yet, anyway,” she adds hesitantly. “I just wanted to let you know that I intend to stay for the foreseeable future. I am the Supreme Leader’s to command, and until you find need of me I will remain here.”

He’ll never give her another mission again if that’s what it takes to keep her onboard. “Okay,” Kylo croaks, like the broken-voiced adolescent he hasn’t been in years.

“Okay,” Rey echoes with a final nod, and walks away.

He’s only been training under Snoke for a standard month when he’s sent to retrieve Rey from Jakku, but he’s learned more than enough in that short month to pass several important lessons on to her.

“Hold on to your name,” he tells her the day Snoke assigns her a new one. “Hide it deep down and never use it, but don’t let go of it. Don’t let go of yourself. Build a new self over the old one, but never forget what brought you here.”

“Clear your mind,” he teaches her when she asks him how to hide things. “Isolate it, put a hundred obstacles between it and him, but make them small, subtle, tiring to navigate. A wall can be torn down, but a maze… a maze is trickier.”

“Don’t let him destroy you,” he murmurs into her hair, holding her close and rocking her gently after the first time Snoke barges into her mind and points out all of her weaknesses. “Be strong, and hard, and cold, but never forget that being kind and soft and warm isn’t weakness, it’s what makes you you.”

It’s selfish, maybe, to tell her to cling on to all the things that’ll make her transition harder, but the plain fact is that he can’t bear to see her lose everything that makes Rey uniquely Rey, can’t bear to lose the kindness and warmth she shows him.

“You too,” Rey sniffs even as she looks up at him defiantly, determination blazing in this tiny twelve-year-old even as she clings to him for comfort like the child that she is. “You need to stay you. Don’t let him take you away from me, Ben. You’re all I’ve got.”

So together they learn how to walk the line, how to be both Kylo and Ben, Kira and Rey, how to give Snoke what he thinks he wants without showing their master all that hides at the center of his maze or beyond the seemingly-endless ocean of her mind. Together they stay them, and he gets to watch Rey grow up with all the softest parts of her intact, with all of her secrets safely hidden away.

So safely hidden away, so well protected, that even he doesn’t know any of them until the day she throws herself at him, newly seventeen and never kissed and so, so desperate to make the most of what little privacy they have on their first official mission together, far from Snoke’s watchful eyes.

“I love you,” Rey murmurs against his lips, climbing into his lap and twisting her fingers into his hair. “Ben, I love you so much, I thought I could hide it but–”

He gently pulls her off his lap, presses a soft kiss to her forehead, and promptly runs back to their ship where he locks himself inside his quarters for the rest of the day.

“Ben,” Rey knocks hesitantly at his door a few hours later. “Ben, I’m sorry. I thought you… but it’s okay if you don’t. It was stupid. I’m stupid. Please, can we just forget this and go back to normal?”

She moves from pleading to making light of the situation to raging against him for being a child and running away from his problems. Forty-five minutes later her voice has grown hoarse and thick with tears and he can barely make out her whispered, “Please, please, Ben, I can’t lose you, you’re all I have, please–”

He opens the door without warning, and she nearly falls over from where she’d been leaning her head against it.

Rey quickly wipes her tears away and flings her arms around his neck. “I’m so sorry, we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, we can pretend it never happened and go back to the way we were, I’ll never say anything again–”

“You’re a child,” Ben whispers brokenly into her hair. “You’re a child and I’m a fucking monster for this.”

“Am not,” Rey mutters, stepping back to shove at his chest. “I’m seventeen, and you’re only twenty-two, and I know I was just an annoying little kid when we met but… I’ve changed, right?” she asks quietly, her hand curling into the fabric of his shirt. “So why can’t we?”

The young woman standing before him doesn’t look anything like the child he rescued from the desert. And therein lies the problem, really.

When Rey was tiny and weak and scared, it was easy to protect her, natural even. He simply did for her what no one had ever done for him, what he’d always wished his parents had done. When she grew taller and stronger and more confident of herself he was proud, and he told himself it was the kind of pride family felt for one another, the kind of pride he’d always hoped to inspire in his own kin. But then Rey grew beautiful and brilliant and began to hold her own against him, and it became clear that she no longer needed his protection, that she wasn’t that tiny little kid anymore.

And suddenly, as if that realization had shattered a dam Ben never even knew about, everything was different. Teasing looks became heated glances, playful interactions gave way to charged moments, and now here they are, Rey’s hand over his heart and her heart in his hands.

“Ben?” she whispers, eyes wide and lower lip caught between her teeth and–

“Force help me,” he mutters before he pulls her close and curls one finger under her chin to tip her face up, meeting her halfway for a kiss. “Force help me, but I love you too.”

It’s the first of many stolen moments, far and few in between for the next two years until the day Snoke announces that Kylo is ready to be stationed at a flagship of his own and Kira will be allowed to go along as part of her training.

They’re still so, so careful, but there are nights when they risk sleeping in the same bed. On one such night, Rey curls into his side and says, “If I only get one good thing in this life, if I only get one thing to call my own in this whole galaxy, I want it to be you.”

“I’m already yours, sweetheart,” Ben tells her, pulls her closer and kisses her like it’s the last time.

It is.

They start sparring together.

There’s surprisingly little to do as Supreme Leader, and even less as a Knight with no mission. At first they try to keep their distance, to make sure they never head to the training room at the same time. Then they start going at the same time but separately, backs turned to each other with half the room between them.

Then Rey shows up just as he’s practicing with his saber, deftly twirling the hilt in one hand, and her little scoff draws his attention. “Show-off,” she accuses, lingering in the center of the room when usually she’d immediately head over to her side without so much as a hello.

“I’d like to see you do better,” Kylo retorts, and suddenly it becomes a daily routine for the two of them, an almost-playful dance between two adversaries who know they’ll never catch each other, who know that’s not the point at all.

It’s almost like old times, when he taught her how to fight in this exact room, and sometimes Kylo just can’t help it, sometimes he looks at her from across the room while they’re cooling down and wishes things were different.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Rey growls on a particularly noteworthy day, having disarmed him four times and pinned him down twice.

“Like what?” Kylo asks innocently, leaning against the wall.

“Like you… like we… I don’t know, just stop!” she demands, throwing her bottle at his head. It sails across the room in a perfect arc, and he ducks just in time. “Stop looking at me like that, stop holding back when we fight, stop treating me like I’m fragile and you don’t want to hurt me!”

“I don’t know how to stop,” Kylo says, dares to move closer; distance isn’t going to stop her if she decides to aim more projectiles at him, anyway. “I don’t know how to stop loving you,” he admits, eyes intent on Rey as he steps into her half of the room.

Rey summons her saber and lights it up. “Stop lying!” she screams as she charges at him. “It was all just a trick to make me weak. You never loved me, you led me on like a fool and made me love you but you never loved me back!”

“Of course I loved you back!” Kylo insists as his own saber comes to life, and it’s barely a moment’s work to disarm Rey, her eyes swimming with tears and her movements clumsy with emotion. She engages him in hand-to-hand, tries to kick his legs out from under him, so Kylo wrestles her to the ground and pins her underneath him instead. “How could you even think that, Rey? Of course I love you, I’ve always loved you. Stars, you’re the only thing in this whole forsaken galaxy that I’ve ever loved.”

He looms over her, hands pinning her arms to the ground and face just a few inches above hers. Rey shakes her head desperately, tears streaming down the side of her face as she struggles underneath him.

If she really wanted to, she could throw him clear across the room with just a thought.

Kylo leans down and presses their foreheads together, calms her down with tiny, soothing noises as he slips into her mind. It’s easy, painless, as familiar to him as his own and as natural as breathing – after all, he was the one who taught her how to hide the island in her mind, how to navigate the ocean around it.

“Shh, just show me, Rey,” he asks gently, and so she does.

She shows him memories of how he started eyeing her predatorily when she was just a child, of how he both thrilled and terrified her in equal measure, of how he made her succumb to him, made her give him everything while he gave her nothing but pretty words and empty promises in return. And then: the day Snoke found out because he was the one to tell their master, because it was a trap all along and he only made her fall for him so that he’d have a weakness to exploit when they dueled each other in order to prove their worth to Snoke. In her mind he is snarling and vicious and out for blood, and it’s only by some unlikely miracle that she finally cuts him down and proves herself to her master.

Rey’s anguish is still fresh even after all these years, and he finds himself crying into her neck as he retreats from her mind. “Rey, no. No no no no no, this isn’t how– I would never– I love you, I’ve always loved you, please remember, please come back to me.”

Her hands slip out of his hold, and seconds later he feels her fingers carding through his hair. “Then prove it,” she whispers, gently guiding him back up to look at her. “Show me the truth. Show me you love me.”

So he does, pressing his forehead to hers once more and telling her to take anything, everything.

Their bond, dormant for two years, begins to stir as Rey hesitantly slips into his memories. It had been forged in a situation much like this one, after all, the two of them inviting each other into their minds to see the dreams they shared, the future they hoped to have.

In his mind Rey finds memories of their earliest days together, how he taught her to keep her thoughts safe and did everything he could to protect her from their master. She discovers that she was the one to kiss him first, that she’s always been the one to lead while he struggled to reconcile their new relationship with the much more innocent one they used to share. She remembers the secret side-trips they would take during missions and the memories they made together, the hopes and dreams they shared with each other late at night, the night she dreamt of their family and Snoke discovered everything.

She relives how he deliberately let her land a hit that day in Snoke’s throne room because he couldn’t stomach the thought of Snoke punishing her, and slowly opens her eyes.

“You kept the scar,” Rey whispers through tears, one hand gently tracing the faded line down his cheek.

“It was the only thing I had to remember you by,” he confesses.

Rey bites her lip to muffle a sob, shakes her head as fresh tears stream down her face. “Ben,” she cries, and surges up to kiss him.

He’s fifteen when his parents send him to Luke.

They’ve spent years arguing over the decision, his father refusing to back down, refusing to let his kid ‘get all tangled up in this mumbo-jumbo’.

And then Ben gets so angry he causes a mini-tornado inside their house, and the next thing he knows Han is dropping him off on Yavin 4 with a poorly concealed look of fear lurking in his eyes.

Luke doesn’t fear him, not at first, and that’s a welcome change from how it’s been at home so Ben decides it’s not too bad, being here. But then there are thoughtful looks, moments when Luke considers him with a slight tilt to his head and shadows in his eyes. And then there are concerned looks, when Luke crosses his arms in reproach after an incident and tells him he needs to try harder. And then finally, Luke looks at him with fear in his eyes and stumbles backwards, turns and runs into the forest. It’s almost a relief because it’s been hanging over him for nearly a year now, the knowledge that it’s coming, that one day he’s going to wake up and Luke will have that look in his eyes, the one his mother has always had, the one his father had the last time they were together.

The day it happens, Ben already has a bag of supplies hidden under his bed and a crappy but working ship hiding in the forest. Luke comes back while he’s packing, an apology dying in his throat as he realizes what Ben is doing.

“Ben, please, I’m sorry. I saw something from my past and I freaked out, it wasn’t fair of me–”

“No, it wasn’t. It’s not fair that you look at me and see a ghost. It’s not fair that my mom looks at me and sees a monster. It’s not fair that my own dad looks at me and sees a stranger.”

“You have to understand–”

He shoulders his bag and brushes past his uncle. “Goodbye, Luke.”

Luke sighs in defeat. “Let me know when you reach home, at least. And tell your mother I’m sorry I failed the both of you.”

He doesn’t say a thing, just keeps walking into the forest until he’s in the ancient ship he’s been fixing up whenever he has a spare moment between Padawan chores. When he finally breaks atmo, the coordinates he types in aren’t for any of the planets his family calls home.

Ben heads right for the darkness, the thing in his head that’s been calling out to him for as long as he can remember, the thing that sent Jedi Master Luke Skywalker running into the forest like a scared child.

Snoke welcomes him without a moment’s hesitation, looks at him like he’s something to be prized rather than feared. It’s the first time in his life that he hasn’t felt like a burden, a mistake. So when Snoke tells him that there’s another Force-sensitive out there who needs his guidance, another lost kid who’s all alone and scared, he wastes no time in getting on a ship and heading straight for Jakku.

She’s eleven when he finds her, a tiny little thing fighting off Teedos and slavers with a staff that’s too big for her. He can feel it, though, the way the Force guides her movements, the way it strengthens her limbs. Luke Skywalker would take one look at this girl and see disaster. But Ben and Snoke, they look at the girl and see potential.

She glares at him when he approaches her, her staff held out threateningly even as her tiny chest rises and falls rapidly as she tries to regain her breath.

“Do you want to be strong?” Ben asks without preamble.

The girl looks at him cautiously.

“Come with me and no one will ever even think of hurting you again,” he promises, getting down on one knee to make himself less intimidating as he offers her his hand. “You’ll never have to be scared again.”

“I’m not scared,” the girl scoffs, a defiant tilt to her chin. The accent surprises him; Coruscanti, in this desert hellhole? How in the world did she even get here?

He remains on his knee, one hand held out to her. She considers it for a long while, looks up at him and allows her hardened features to melt into something hesitant. “I’m not scared… I’m just lonely.”

Ben knows loneliness all too well. “So come with me,” he says, “and you’ll never be lonely again.”

The girl lowers her staff. “Promise?”

He nods. “Promise.”

Staff secured in one loosely curled fist, she surges forward to take his hand. “I’m Rey. Who are you?”

The name he should give her is Kylo Ren, the name his master has just bestowed upon him. “I’m Ben,” he says instead, and they walk hand-in-hand to his ship.

He wakes up a few hours later to something out of a dream: Rey, wearing only his shirt, sitting on the foot of his bed as she stares out the viewport in his room.

She doesn’t turn around, her eyes still fixed on the stars. “He took you from me,” Rey says quietly. “He took everything that was good and beautiful about us and twisted it. He took our bond and told me it was something dangerous, something I had to lock away. He took our love,” she chokes, her voice thick with emotion, “and convinced me that it was a weakness, something to be ashamed of, something to hide away.”

Ben crawls over to her and pulls her into his arms. “He’s dead now,” he reassures her, rubbing soothing circles into her back. “He’s gone forever, and we have each other back.”

Rey turns in his arms to look him in the eye. “Let’s burn it to the ground,” she growls. “Everything he stood for, everything he worked so hard to establish – I want to burn all of it to ash.”

“Then we will,” Ben promises her easily, brushing his lips against the bare shoulder exposed by his too-big shirt. “We’ll destroy the First Order and start something new. Anything you want.”

“I just want to be with you,” Rey murmurs, leans in to kiss him soft and slow now that they've got all the time in the world.

It’s a new galaxy, with him at the helm of the First Order and his parents somewhere out there trying to mobilize their forces against a threat that no longer exists. And Rey, Rey is something new too, the woman he’s always loved and the woman he’s always tried to protect her from becoming, the terrifying Kira to his Kylo. There’s a whole new life just waiting for them, so many possibilities and no more obstacles.

Ben disentangles their limbs, slides down to the carpeted ground of his quarters and gets on one knee. Rey stares at him with the stars from the viewport reflected in her eyes, with the stars he’s always glimpsed within her eyes when she looks at him.

“Rule with me,” he whispers, holding out a hand to her the way he first did all those years ago. “Be my Empress. We’ll make something new out of the ashes, we’ll build an Empire, and nothing in this galaxy will ever tear us apart again, no one will ever have the power to come between us.”

The old Rey would’ve said no; the old Rey wanted them to run away, to leave it all behind, to hide in a tiny cottage and live a quiet life and raise their children away from the rest of the galaxy.

Rey takes his hand.

And nothing comes between them ever again.

I had Big Plans for this AU but then I ran out of time and wrote it at some ungodly hour in the morning while being sleep deprived so here we are. But hey, it's needlessly long as usual so at least I'm on-brand. Also, second flashback fic in a row. What am I doing???

As always, thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed at least some part of this hot mess, and please don't hesitate to reblog/like/comment!

#reylo au week #reylo #rey/kylo ren #rey/ben solo #reylo fic #star wars #rey #ben solo #kylo ren #canon divergent #fic: mouth of the devil #my fics #fic archive

34 notes · View notes

paladin-of-freedom · 5 years ago

Photo

Violence isn’t always the answer, nobody is saying that.

Violence should always be a last resort. But, importantly, it is still a result if all else fails.

And historically, violence of the oppressed against the oppressors has been needed for the sorts of large sweeping change.

You speak as if the energy companies didn’t already know what you have to tell them, because frankly you are naive. They knew that their business would harm the planet and specifically lead to massive loss of human life. Their researchers told them this 50 GODDAMN YEARS AGO and they still haven’t done a single thing to move to green energy.

Your ideas approach the problem as if these people are stupid. They aren’t. They’re intelligent and malicious, and assuming your enemy is stupid is dangerous hubris. These are people with a vested interest in killing the planet, who have highly trained experts on staff to vet claims about alternative energy that might be a scam. You aren’t going to “trick them” that way, and you might get disappeared for trying. Just look at Jeffery Epstein if you doubt for a moment that anyone with a ton to lose wouldn’t find a way to make you go away if they felt you threatened their power.

But back to the main topic: have we tried everything? We know that they have the science from their own experts, we know that they persist in destroying the planet. We know that the government has had to fight tooth and nail to allow even meager subsidies for green energy. And we know that still they persist, they launch deliberate disinformation campaigns. And simply put, they have had every opportunity for half a century to change, but they’ve doubled down again and again and again in destructive fuel mining and usage and harmful emissions have mostly happened since the 1970s.

And now they managed to shift the focus, when the evidence was so overwhelming that they couldn’t keep lying, so that lawmakers are focusing on consumer emissions that, even if we entirely eliminate them (never gonna happen) 90% of current emissions will still happen.

So let’s discuss murder for a little bit. Firstly, murder and killing are not synonymous. Murder is an unlawful killing, which by its definition implies that lawful killing exists, and it just so happens that self defense laws give some guidelines for this.

Now, before anyone starts: I’m not a lawyer, I’m not your lawyer, this is not legal advice, I don’t condone any of you doing this.

But the doctrine of self defense states that a person is justified in using lethal force if it is in defense of themselves or a bystander from a perpetrator of a violent crime (attempted murder, severely violent assault, sexual assault) that they are otherwise unable to escape from.

So: will global warming kill us and/or others? Absolutely, and it’s already started. The surge in immigration on the southern border of the US this summer included some of the first refugees fleeing the effects of climate change: farmers whose land was no longer viable for crop growing due to the extremes in temperatures.

Is there anywhere to run? Not exactly; the whole planet is affected and we can’t get off permanently yet.

So... yes. While a court of law likely won’t buy it due to them not recognizing climate change as an imminent threat to safety, I think that morally, someone loses the deontological protections against violence that innocent people have, when their greed leads them to knowingly destroy the planet and endanger human life as a whole in pursuit of profit.

I’m no killer, but I certainly won’t shed a tear for those deranged sentient extinction events.

521K notes · View notes

franciium · 5 years ago

Text

So, big update on my living situation...

But I’m not sure if I mentioned what’s been going on with my life, but here’s what’s been happening:

1. I moved out on my own in December to a shared household with two girls whom I’ll dub ‘J’ and ‘N’.

2. Things been rather peaceful up until we noticed ‘N’ has been falling behind on the household chores. We go to talk to her about it and she merely waves it off saying ‘well it’s because I’m busy with school and work’. Been understanding, but told her to let us know if she can’t do it for that day so we don’t have to wait on her to clean the kitchen, clean the bathroom, or clean the floors.

3. ‘J’ been rather nosy with my business and wouldn’t leave me alone about it whenever I get into one of those ‘no-talking’ moods. Wouldn’t even let it go even when I am obviously uncomfortable about wanting to talk about it. Had to lie to her about being ‘fine’ because she simply wouldn’t let it go when I told her to back off.

4. Was let go at my part-time job because they simply can’t ‘afford to keep me’ even though I’m pretty sure it’s because I kept reporting to them about how I was being harassed and bullied by my co-worker over something so fucking stupid that she’s holding a grudge over. And because she’s worked there longer than I have, they probably think it’s easier to let me go.

5. Got news that there would be an inspection being conducted at the house I’m staying at because apparently some previous tenant reported to the city’s housing/renting department that there’s too many people living at the household. Failed all three inspections, and was not told about it. Was also not told about the fact that having too many renters in a household was a thing and was left unaware of this when I was living there.

6. Sometime around my birthday, my grandmother passed away and I’ve been trying to cope with the fact that she’s gone along with four greedy asshole relatives arguing amongst themselves about who gets the money/house once my grandfather passes away too....RIGHT OUTSIDE THE CHAPEL WHERE MY GRANDPA CAN DEFINITELY HEAR THEM.

7. Got a new job working at Costco with better working conditions and better people who aren’t intentionally trying to make my life a living hellhole.

8. Sometime in May, the entire household gets an eviction notice with two month’s notice to move out by the end of July. Anxiety through the goddamn roof and been dreading this because I wasn’t expecting this. Was forced to look around the area for a place that was affordable to rent.

9. ‘J’ decided that it would be best if we try to rent a house together to cut down costs effectively and that we ‘got along well’. I was more for it for the former of the two reasons, and decided that if all I had to do was put up with her being fucking nosy in exchange for not having to shell out so much for rent, then so be it.

10. ‘N’ is still not doing any of the chores and ‘J’ decides to guilt trip me into confronting ‘N’ about it. Because ‘I’m the only one who didn’t say anything about it’ despite not knowing she went up and talked to ‘N’ about it plenty of times. Pissed off ‘N’ greatly where she slammed the door in my face after I have to confirm that she was going to clean up the floors the night of.

11. ‘J’ found a place we can move to, and I’m waiting on her for an answer from the landlord because I’m left out of the conversation for some reason or another.

12. Find out the DAY OF HER MOVING OUT that she decided to drop me as her roommate because she found out I was lying to her about the whole ‘not-wanting-to-talk’ thing and proceeds to complain about how I ‘make too much noise in the kitchen’ (clearly wasn’t since all I ever did was open the fridge, use the microwave, closed the doors very softly, and washed the dishes as quietly as I can). Then DEMANDS I apologize to her for being the source of her stress. I never complained about how her cat meowing loudly at 3am in the morning, how she keeps pushing and pushing at me to talk or do something because she’s too chicken shit to man the fuck up and uses her anxiety as a crutch (bitch I fucking have anxiety too but that doesn’t give you the right to guilt me into doing shit), leaves food open on the countertops and sink, leaves dishes and empty can of cat food in the sink. Yet I’m the biggest issue? Okay, whatever.

13. A day after ‘J’ moves out, she comes back a day later to scream at our currently-at-the-time landlord. Later learn landlord is being scummy by deciding to take a portion of her security deposit to pay off some bills. Landlord screams at her to get out, and I’m quietly laying in my bed waiting on the both of them to leave while I’m trying to calm down. Inwardly cursing at ‘J’ for rocking the fucking boat for both myself and ‘N’ who are trying to move out without any issues too.

14. ‘N’, unsurprisingly, continues to not do any of the chores and probably expects me to clean up. Decided that rather than have to confront her again and make the situation between us any worse, do the chores myself. Very exhausted.

15. After searching for a good while (and realizing how much I hate living in Vancouver), found a place I can live. Only $500 per month with all utilities included. Put down my security deposit.

16. However after putting down my security deposit, come to realize that the nice dude is crazy. Like, conspiracy theories crazy, but not crazy enough to warrant any sort of physical or malicious intent. He’s also apparently one of those ‘anti-vaxers’, but at least was a compliant one where he will still allow his kids to get vaccinated (thank fucking god) so they can continue their education and what not.

17. The day I was supposed to move (July 26th), he said he had to cancel the rent because rent was being raised. He was told this raise in rent on July 25th, and CHOSE TO NOT TELL ME UNTIL THE DAY OF I WAS SUPPOSED TO MOVE IN. Absolutely furious, frustrated, and hopeless while trying hard NOT to panic. At this point I’ve already told my current-at-the-time landlord I was moving out, and my mom was already on her way to my place to help me pack up and move.

18. Spent the entire Friday cleaning and packing up despite asking my landlord if I could pay the month of August to stay until I found a proper place. Was told to leave a day earlier than was told to, which is ILLEGAL to do. All while being driven around to look for places to rent.

19. July 27th, finished packing up everything and storing my belongings at my grandfather’s house while I’m being holed up at my aunt’s place for at least a month until I can find a place to rent.

20. Somehow, just a few hours before my mom would make the drive back, found a place to live at $550 a month, and thus put down my security deposit and moved all my things there. They’re a nice, elderly Vietnamese couple who took kindly to me, especially hearing my situation.

21. Had to drive all the way to meet the guy who basically ran off with my security deposit and cancelled on me, just to get the money back. He didn’t answer any of the calls, and only replied to texts occasionally, only to realize I won’t let this go until get my money back. Tried to apologize to me before giving my security deposit back, but I’m not having it. Too tired to put up with it.

So...yeeeeeeeaaaaah….

I really hate my string of bad luck, but I’m hoping things are going to go okay from here. I’m not going to expect better. Right now, just expecting things to be at the minimum of ‘okay’.

#fran talks about stuff #DO NOT REBLOG

0 notes

throwingideasatthewall · 4 years ago

Text

Clone Wars Brothers

I know of one of the weakest episodes the weakest relation,

I’m enthused (No I’m not)

Whoa,

It’s red

WHY IS IT RED??

You had one episode about Ven -tress

Is it now her show?

Seriously, what happened in that episode?

Hold up

[Let me ch- -eck]

Nope still is season four

Now with an apparent drop in quality

Great

[ *Cracks open*]

Ai- ght

O-h

B-ea ten

Ah no, he was shocked which yeah should’ve resulted in him being unconscious

But ,“beaten”?

Not the word I would’ve use there,

To be hon-est,

Cr-ea -tor

Oh he exist- ed before her *Spell * So, He’s not exactly Franken stein here (Frankenstein‘s monster if you’re being damn specific] Un-less..

Any-how-

Sense Him,

Bull shit,

But Okay,

(Seriously Dooku is just having all the vengeance today,

Sav-age Op -press

I mean everyone’s pretty equal on energy so I guess an experience And confidence (He can- )

*Seriously what is up with the coughing thing I know that was a something from the Og, But it has to mean something,

And have forseeable consequences

(Aka add to the story)

“A threat..”

Dude you consider-ed Ven -tress a threat last episode,

(Like Maul was apprenticed to Si-d-ious who by all means should be higher on the chain of command than V-en- -tress- -)

(The power chain is all screwy,)

Though I do kind of give them points for addressing the criticism I had last episode, of grievous being assigned assignment way below his belt,

Also excluding a few circumstances this is just constantly kicking with Grievous while he’s down,

And I’m honestly expecting a Face- turn any day now

(Like he got a glow up one episode before it promptly got thrown away, ,) ) “ All of us,”

All of us en-ablers,

“Con-trol,”

You can’t control an adult human being groomer (Se- ntient) . A din-n -er

Also why is the waitress bot fle-e-ing

Like wouldn’t it’s protocol dictate, Either conferring with a customer or Order-ing them to leave?

Like why by any name would you program your waitress bot to panic . And frigh ten- patrons? . Why - A-ight- - W-h

Well, that went on to long to be funny (Having it just cut to him ordering a cheeseburger now that would’ve been funny,)

Also - the hell?

Look nothing about anything that just happened indicated that this guy was on a mission or had any sort of plan other than malician

You can’t show him openly participating in the malici-an one second and then turning around and acting intelligent and on a mission . Not without a transition a whole lot more Of emotion And expla-

Ex;

“Where is it? You sa-”

“Put her down now or I’ll call the author-ities,”

[Catch -es eye- Backs Away - Slow-ly Runs into the alley/ cargo way] [Touches box- has some kind of indicator

[because of now- there’s nothing there, I have no idea what to do with it- Because there was no indicator of what he’s referring to,

Dude just touch the box and was like ‘This must be a clue!’

?? [like you need to throw some sand- or something on there-]

I generally have not feck what they were going for though

[Objectivity needs to reflect with what your chara -cater is saying otherwise I’m just going to assume they’re crazy]

(Aka you don’t need to put all the details out there out-front But you do need some indication. (Again some kind of residue or substance on his fingers)

Again I would have no idea what that would mean but I would have some indication that it meant something in the greater plan and I wasn’t just watching this character go un-accountable

[Sorry but details are im-portant] - ? [So she straight up track ed him right?]

Because if I don’t see a track-ing chip on him. . . I’m going to be a bit mad. . . ? - Yeah those dots are practically on top of each other so they must be in the same feck in din -ner - O-p. - Oh back to this boring plot point, . Maybe it’s gotten better from the documentary, it was . . . ? . They are un-accountable that started a war and people that could and very possibly would’ve murder- ed you at any point,

(I’m not sure jumpiness but generally aggression would be pretty well reason, ( Actually jumpiness at the unaccountable’s would be reasonable)

Also yeah I know her tone is still as dry as sand paper - Zero e-motion - Hey still no e-motion [A lower head and

Quick movement

Aren’t emotions]

Any puppet can lower it’s head and move quickly,

There’s no regrets in her line there’s no conflict. . . No inquisitive-ness there what-soever- - No rais. -ing of the eyebrows or lightning of the eyes,

Nor lightning of the tone or any energy,

Do you know to tell her pupils didn’t widen or move in anyway nor did her body language changed at all

... or her tone?

[that’s how you tell it’s fe’cki’n boring)]

There’s no emotional consequence to this at all

[Entertainment as a field that relies completely on empathy, on emotion, emotional stimuli

If you don’t have that

It’s not entertainment

It’s an animation and logistical voice acting how-to-course

[not that that’s not of value, just that it’s not as advertis-ed, Not as promoted, a problem]

Again what does any of this mean?

[This is BOR-ING- ] -

[Pretty sure they’ve never met this guy,]

Why. ? [I know because my amulet is pur -ring,] ] [ All said with no emotion, - ] - [Hot cold hot cold how the thing works nobody fecking knows- - ] [why does he look like a damn Muppet.]

[standing out in the field.]

[Why,]

[it just turned off five minutes ago what makes this time so important? ?

Wow that had no emotion or commitment whatsoever,]

It’s a snake

A sen-tient snake,

[ignoring any boom-er symbolism]

The heck kind of logistics does that make?

Like to make sentient?

It has to have the estimated amount of accountable energy,

Of everyone else

[Otherwise you’re just a cruel God]

Like with Zila

She had to be very delicate

*Em

So,how... ?

[”I have no time for you,” * proceeds to attempt to fight them* Constant characterization and consistency, what?

[This is very Stupid]

[Si-lence]

Oh, Ha Ha ha, it’s supposed to be funny because he’s a cheapskate despite that not being establishing no emotion being behind it , ha ha ha ha, so funny

[Damn this movie]

[Revenge against selfish and entitled boomers can be funny]

[Not in this case with no emotion]

[Or establishment]

[Making this unclear if it’s kicking down at your own level]

Feck you

No Emotion!

[No motivation whatsoever!]

Oh yeah sure they say that his thing is fine his brother whatever, whatever

[That’s a whole lot of telling and a fecking an inconsistent amount of showing

* as well as [lower] quality

If you want to put words and explanations over things happening go to documentary school

[i’m sorry I’m just a little pissed about this being called anything but observation]

If you want to do a thing at least make sure to do it properly!

[I’m a fan of en- tertainment]

[As well as observation]

[Seeing either mis-labeled is a damn shame- ]

[Could’ve been pretty useful,]

[Thanks to mislabeling it’s damn wasted time]

[And effort -]

[which again damn shame , ]

*apologies for the excessive use of [the word] “damn”

Unf-ortunately I don’t have anything else to say because there’s nothing much engaging, happening on screen,

[You know this could’ve been an honestly heartwarming message about someone who’s been treated to tox behavior by their peers and cre-ators, [. em-bittered to the world ] struggling to find value in themselves, On a mission by said pro-genitors, And a sandstorm- Cutting com- munication, To said tox influences,

Except for one (Semi)

Unfortunately due to the lack of commitment that didn’t happen,

The scenes with his communication gets cut is dry and tasteless, as well as (emotionless) , The set up is non-existence to poor taste. - And-

[Well I have no interest in his goals so this action scene is pretty pointless] -

[Nor does this have any tension because these guys are Junk -ers, We’ve seen Savage throw round heavier foes, and we have no idea anything ~ about - this guy ~ to give this any tension - no psy-chological weak -ness or dis -like~ - [You’ve turned a concept that could be a less emotionally implausible Franken -stein, Into dry-wall]

With no emotional in-vestment

[You know what would’ve been fun- [Done in writer’s tense;

If the snake and him had started to form a bond; and if the snake had given him some kind of order like, don’t attack those people;

Something that goes against everything that he’s been taught;

As well as the concept of people responding in re-tribution;

If he does; maybe the snakes showing some com- passion,

Since he knows what it’s like to be re-latively helpless-

Or just any sort of em-otion-

Because there is just nothing there~ ~No humanity there-

No humanity-

In this scene~

Not even inhumanity

[The evils in inhumanity

- Toxic humanity-

Or any - Self awareness-

What-so-ever

Any way

The story-

Continues to grate-

On my nerves-

Til the end-

[Oh look it’s fan-favorite; Maul

He’s [Un-accountable-]

If only you had hadn’t establish- ed everyone else is un- emotional puppets

And any outliers as anomalies-

There might’ve been someone to bounce off of

And give us a scale for how “off this is,

As it stands ‘gruff’ is now a per- sonality- - And people randomly attacking and yelling things at each other is a pretty much norm,

Great job taking all the emot-ion out of your supposed to be emot-ionally impactful moment

. *Re-veal

[Good time to contrast any sort of feelings towards -family-

- it’s - wasted- - You know in the most emotionally charged reveal you wouldn’t think they’d want to hide the eyes- the most emotional part of the body-

[then again you wouldn’t be these writers-]

NOTHING!

[Was gained]

Well.

What an awfully cho-reographed (Put to-gether) (Coordinate) Emotionless dull And un-entertaining Mis- labeled Observational Mess, (With no harsh regards) (I pity the animation team that had their efforts so poorly directed. (Stitch-ed together). (Used)

(Po-orly. Exposé (Ex-ecute)

Turning

What could’ve been an emotionally tense and F-ascinating story;

About a person who’s been subjected to talk with behavior since childhood and even in a supposed partnership (in one’s supposed Gen) being sent on a quest, by one of said person (s)

To find their older brother Gen(eration);

Who has since given into enabling

Getting cut off by a sand storm

F(inding a less tox influence

-That seems to show some interest for his well-being,

The communications refusing to work after the sandstorm leading to the implication that the toxic individual abandon him

The emotional res- ponse-

Getting re-abandoned by the less tox individual-

Encountering the older tox enabling gen -eration;

Who not only physically assa -ults him upon meeting

But refuses to ac-cept That (Seeing as how Savage is 22 (And an adult) It means he’s fail-ed and become the very thing he’s grown to dis-like,

And insist on staying focused on his ven- geance

(Against one group of enablers). )

(Expressing similar disposition to his abusers)

(And attempting to return to them;

Having gone through a world of nothing but cruelty)

Into;

Cardboard cut outs enacting an emotion -ally dead story,-

(With no proper set up)

[Not a yank - at the animation team.- -Just the dead soul -less nature of everything,

Involved.]

With no self-awareness,

About what a dry-

0 notes

dfroza · 4 years ago

Text

Today’s reading in the ancient book of Proverbs and Psalms

for monday, August 10 of 2020 with Proverbs 10 and Psalm 10 accompanied by Psalm 52 for the 52nd day of Summer and Psalm 73 for day 223 of the year

[Proverbs 10]

The wisdom of Solomon:

When wisdom comes to a son,

joy comes to a father.

When a son turns from wisdom,

a mother grieves.

Gaining wealth through dishonesty is no gain at all.

But honesty brings you a lasting happiness.

The Lord satisfies the longings of all his lovers,

but he withholds from the wicked what their souls crave.

Slackers will know what it means to be poor,

while the hard worker becomes wealthy.

Know the importance of the season you’re in

and a wise son you will be.

But what a waste when an incompetent son

sleeps through his day of opportunity!

The lover of God is enriched beyond belief,

but the evil man only curses his luck.

The reputation of the righteous

becomes a sweet memorial to him,

while the wicked life only leaves a rotten stench.

The heart of the wise will easily accept instruction.

But those who do all the talking

are too busy to listen and learn.

They’ll just keep stumbling ahead

into the mess they created.

The one who walks in integrity

will experience a fearless confidence in life,

but the one who is devious

will eventually be exposed.

The troublemaker always has a clever plan

and won’t look you in the eye,

but the one who speaks correction honestly

can be trusted to make peace.

The teachings of the lovers of God are like

living truth flowing from the fountain of life,

but the words of the wicked

hide an ulterior motive.

Hatred keeps old quarrels alive,

but love draws a veil over every insult

and finds a way to make sin disappear.

Words of wisdom flow from the one with true discernment.

But to the heartless, words of wisdom

become like rods beating their backside.

Wise men don’t divulge all that they know,

but chattering fools blurt out words

that bring them to the brink of ruin.

A rich man’s wealth becomes like a citadel of strength,

but the poverty of the poor leaves their security in shambles.

The lovers of God earn their wages for a life of righteousness,

but the wages of the wicked are squandered on a life of sin.

If you readily receive correction,

you are walking on the path to life.

But if you reject rebuke,

you’re guaranteed to go astray.

The one who hides his hatred while pretending to be your friend

is nothing but a liar.

But the one who slanders you behind your back

proves that he’s a fool, never to be trusted.

If you keep talking, it won’t be long

before you’re saying something really wrong.

Prove you’re wise from the very start—

just bite your tongue and be strong!

The teachings of the godly ones are like pure silver,

bringing words of redemption to others,

but the heart of the wicked is corrupt.

The lovers of God feed many with their teachings,

but the foolish ones starve themselves

for lack of an understanding heart.

True enrichment comes from the blessing of the Lord,

with rest and contentment in knowing

that it all comes from him.

The fool finds his fun in doing wrong,

but the wise delight in having discernment.

The lawless are haunted by their fears

and what they dread will come upon them,

but the longings of the lovers of God will all be fulfilled.

The wicked are blown away by every stormy wind.

But when a catastrophe comes,

the lovers of God have a secure anchor.

To trust a lazy person to get a job done

will be as irritating as smoke in your eyes—

as enjoyable as a toothache!

Living in the worship and awe of God

will bring you many years of contented living.

So how could the wicked ever expect to have a long, happy life?

Lovers of God have a joyful feast of gladness,

but the ungodly see their hopes vanish right before their eyes.

The beautiful ways of God are a safe resting place

for those who have integrity.

But to those who work wickedness

the ways of God spell doom.

God’s lover can never be greatly shaken.

But the wicked will never inherit

the covenant blessings.

The teachings of the righteous are loaded with wisdom,

but the words of the evil are crooked and perverse.

Words that bring delight pour from the lips of the godly,

but the words of the wicked are duplicitous.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 10 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 10]

Why, O Eternal One, are You so far away?

Why can’t You be found during troubling times?

Mean and haughty people hunt down the poor.

May they get caught up in their own wicked schemes.

For the wicked celebrates the evil cravings of his heart

as the greedy curses and rejects the Eternal.

The arrogance of the wicked one keeps him from seeking the True God.

He truly thinks, “There is no God.”

His ways seem always to be successful;

Your judgments, too, seem far beyond him, out of his reach.

He looks down on all his enemies.

In his heart he has decided, “Nothing will faze me.

From generation to generation I will not face trouble.”

His mouth is full of curses, lies, and oppression.

Beneath his tongue lie trouble and wickedness.

He hides in the shadows of the villages,

waiting to ambush and kill the innocent in dark corners.

He eyes the weak and the poor.

Ominously, like a lion in its lair,

he lurks in secret to waylay those who are downtrodden.

When he catches them, he draws them in and drags them off with his net.

Quietly crouching, lying low,

ready to overwhelm the next by his strength,

The wicked thinks in his heart, “God has forgotten us!

He has covered His face and will never notice!”

Arise, O Eternal, my True God. Lift up Your hand.

Do not forget the downtrodden.

Why does the wicked revile the True God?

He has decided, “He will not hold me responsible.”

But wait! You have seen,

and You will consider the trouble and grief he caused.

You will impose consequences for his actions.

The helpless, the orphans, commit themselves to You,

and You have been their Helper.

Break the arm of the one guilty of doing evil;

investigate all his wicked acts;

hold him responsible for every last one of them.

The Eternal will reign as King forever.

The other nations will be swept off His land.

O Eternal One, You have heard the longings of the poor and lowly.

You will strengthen them; You who are of heaven will hear them,

Vindicating the orphan and the oppressed

so that men who are of the earth will terrify them no more.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 10 (The Voice)

[Psalm 52]

A David Psalm, When Doeg the Edomite Reported to Saul, “David’s at Ahimelech’s House”

Why do you brag of evil, “Big Man”?

God’s mercy carries the day.

You scheme catastrophe;

your tongue cuts razor-sharp,

artisan in lies.

You love evil more than good,

you call black white.

You love malicious gossip,

you foul-mouth.

God will tear you limb from limb,

sweep you up and throw you out,

Pull you up by the roots

from the land of life.

Good people will watch and

worship. They’ll laugh in relief:

“Big Man bet on the wrong horse,

trusted in big money,

made his living from catastrophe.”

And I’m an olive tree,

growing green in God’s house.

I trusted in the generous mercy

of God then and now.

I thank you always

that you went into action.

And I’ll stay right here,

your good name my hope,

in company with your faithful friends.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 52 (The Message)

[Psalm 73]

An Asaph Psalm

No doubt about it! God is good—

good to good people, good to the good-hearted.

But I nearly missed it,

missed seeing his goodness.

I was looking the other way,

looking up to the people

At the top,

envying the wicked who have it made,

Who have nothing to worry about,

not a care in the whole wide world.

Pretentious with arrogance,

they wear the latest fashions in violence,

Pampered and overfed,

decked out in silk bows of silliness.

They jeer, using words to kill;

they bully their way with words.

They’re full of hot air,

loudmouths disturbing the peace.

People actually listen to them—can you believe it?

Like thirsty puppies, they lap up their words.

What’s going on here? Is God out to lunch?

Nobody’s tending the store.

The wicked get by with everything;

they have it made, piling up riches.

I’ve been stupid to play by the rules;

what has it gotten me?

A long run of bad luck, that’s what—

a slap in the face every time I walk out the door.

If I’d have given in and talked like this,

I would have betrayed your dear children.

Still, when I tried to figure it out,

all I got was a splitting headache . . .

Until I entered the sanctuary of God.

Then I saw the whole picture:

The slippery road you’ve put them on,

with a final crash in a ditch of delusions.

In the blink of an eye, disaster!

A blind curve in the dark, and—nightmare!

We wake up and rub our eyes. . . . Nothing.

There’s nothing to them. And there never was.

When I was beleaguered and bitter,

totally consumed by envy,

I was totally ignorant, a dumb ox

in your very presence.

I’m still in your presence,

but you’ve taken my hand.

You wisely and tenderly lead me,

and then you bless me.

You’re all I want in heaven!

You’re all I want on earth!

When my skin sags and my bones get brittle,

God is rock-firm and faithful.

Look! Those who left you are falling apart!

Deserters, they’ll never be heard from again.

But I’m in the very presence of God—

oh, how refreshing it is!

I’ve made Lord God my home.

God, I’m telling the world what you do!

The Book of Psalms, Poem 73 (The Message)

0 notes

soulofmolasses · 7 years ago

Text

narrative

grade 7

Underappreciated. I need one stupid word to describe myself? Underappreciated. There you go. How about we play a different game; instead of “go around in a circle and give one word to describe yourself because it’s the stupid first day of stupid school”, how about we play, “I get to be on top for a day, I, the stupid orphan who has nobody, gets to be loved for once in my life?”

Hi. My name is Shadow Star. Sorry if I seem a little demented, maybe it’s because my parents died when I was only 2 moons old, and the rest of my family is “in hiding”, or something like that. Sure, like they’re not just telling the government to spare my feelings and lie about why they don’t want to take care of me. I know why.

And by the way, my first name isn’t Shadow. It’s actually Shadow Star. I have a middle name that I wish I could say I took to the grave with me, but if I have a last name, I don’t know about it.

And, as I was saying, I have nobody. Nobody except the rats on the street. Our town’s only orphanage is broken down, and since nobody cares about Planet X, especially not about our run-down town Orkelia, we’ve never gotten a new one, and we’re one out of four widespread communities on this planet.

What’s Planet X? Oh, sorry, I guess I didn’t really tell you much about my home. I don’t know much about the other planets, but the gist of it is that they’re all in one stellar system, all 26 of them, and they decided, “Hey, let’s name them after the alphabet we created!” So, yeah, that’s pretty much what happened. Planet A is closest to our central star, which has no life on it, and Planet Z is farthest away. Since people tend to thrive more around Planet A, since they have the most heat, A was unintentionally made most important, and Z least, which is probably why only people running from the law go to Z.

But anyways, I live on Planet X, and let’s just say I would rather live with the rats than the boys here my age. I don’t have a house, but I’m lucky that I don’t have to live on the street because of it. I live in an abandoned barn, sleeping in the hay loft with my one lonely blanket.

It really is true; nobody likes me. They either ignore, avoid, or make fun of and try to trip me as I walk through the streets looking for someone who could even look at me with some compassion. Compassion, not pity. They are two different stories altogether. Only one person in my life has looked at me with pity. To that day, pity was another thing I craved, but when I finally got it, I couldn’t believe how angry it made me feel that just because they had a better life than me, they could look at me and think,

“Wow, his life must be hard!” Pity is only wanted in small amounts, and from someone who will actually try to give me a better life because of it. Which, of course, has never happened.

Oh, right, now you’re probably wondering, “Well, who gave you that pity in the first place?”

The person who gave me my only look of pity was the father of the girl who changed my life. She was gorgeous. We met when we were 84 moons old, or about 7 years old, 2 years ago. Her family came here when they got lost and ended up here in Orkelia instead of Suria, the tourist attraction, small but with a simple sort of elegance, which is 20 miles south. It was late, so they only stayed here until noon the next day, then headed off to Suria, but even that short amount of time was amazing. The boys were all jealous, trying to get the attention of who would have been the youngest supermodel of all time, if she had lived anywhere on her Planet C other than on a large plantation with nobody for miles. Of course, none of us were actually trying to flirt or anything like that, but her bubbly personality and natural beauty just attracts people like nectar attracts bees. And yet, out of everybody, she looked to me as her friend. We spent all our time together, for those few hours, and I practically fell in love with her just because she wanted to be nice to me. She gave me that blanket. I can still smell her strawberry shampoo. Her name is Sheen.

She unintentionally taught me something important about life: All good things end. Quickly.

So, as I lie here, her blanket covering my eyes and my stiff back on the hay, I ask myself the question everyone must ask themselves at one point or another,

“Why is it all worth it?”

~~~

My eyes are wide open within an instant. 7:15. Gotta go, gotta go, gotta go. My daily routine is shattered today. At 7:25, the bullies will come looking. Why didn’t I wake up earlier? I’m lucky I don’t have much to rescue from the barn before I run under Ms. Evelyn Mars’s front porch so they don’t find me when they ransack the barn, stealing anything of use and mainly trying to beat me up for the fun of it. Every day of my life. My ripped-leather watch I found in a gutter somewhere must be breaking, or it would have gone off at the time I need to wake up to try and get my hair and hygiene under control before they come. My appearance and smell will have to be put second today.

~~~

After school, I carry on with my day, trying to forget the morning as I walk back home. I’ve been doing this so long I could be completely forgetting the real world, living in my imagination, and my legs would still find their way through the busy streets back to the barn, my home. But I try, I really try, not to let my imagination suck me in too far. I know when this happens, I will either get jumped by one of the gangs who makes fun of me, or accidentally turn one yard too soon and end up falling through the floor of some abandoned building.

It rained yesterday, so I splash from puddle to puddle, trying to look like a normal kid, although I will never be one. I know that in my heart, not just from the fact that it’s yelled through the cafeteria everyday at school. I finally reach a building with salmon pink paint peeling off the wood. Home. I realize with a start that most of the barn floor will be wet from the holes in the roof, since I only bothered to fix the ones that affected the hay loft. So I tromp across the marsh of the barn, listening to my shoes squelch, each time flinching with a mixture of disgust and satisfaction. I shake them off, trying not to get any mud on my torn socks, and climb up the rickety ladder, perched as if about to fall.

It is warm inside the hay loft. I wonder why. There is no reason heat should be in here; there never has been, which is why my highest stealing record is usually met during the winter. I stand here, completely still, waiting for a gang to jump out at me. Nothing happens, so I go to investigate the source. I don’t find anything.

Out of nowhere, I hear a giggle, almost malicious. Hands are tied around my waist, my eyes, my mouth, my legs. I cannot move, so I desperately flail out with my hands as my legs are brought up and I am lifted off the ground, being carried sideways, someone using their fist as a gag. I bite down on it without thinking, and whoever it was stifles a scream, and one of the hands supporting me dips down, just for a second. But they make one error; he does not take his fist out of my mouth.

I have always been a quick thinker. Today, I guess I was more mentally prepared. In that millisecond where his grip falters, I kick out, surprisingly weak, as always, and at the same time, punch the one whose fist is still there, right in the gut, and he emitted such a high pitch I thought the neighbors would come help beat me up too for causing it. I focus in putting all my weight towards the ground until I go completely limp and the two left cannot bear to hold such a tactical arm-flailer any longer. I thud to the ground, and with three chasing after me, one still lying on his back and holding where my fist met his jeans, I make yet another split-second decision, and, instead of running to the town to try to get help, I turn to the forests and fields and sprint until I can’t breathe.

~~~

Each of the planets has one location that can teleport you to any other planet in the stellar system. And so, once I finally can’t hear anything but the chirping of birds and the rustling of trees, no trailing footsteps wondering when the little sucker “Ivy” would get tired, I stop for just a second, and run south.

~~~

My middle name is Ivy. There. I said it. Now back to my life. I’m about to give up, the ice inside my heart growing larger every second, when I see a sign.

Suria

Welcome!

You’ll think twice about that welcome once you see who I am.

~~~

The teleporter stops omitting a blue light, and I step off, feeling a little dizzy, but determined not to show it. I touch my heart, and I can almost feel the skin getting colder, even though this planet is warmer than Planet X. Suria didn’t care about me, and what did I care, as long as there weren’t people my age ready to hurt me in the place I called home.

I look around me, the light of the central star is blinding, too blinding, and suddenly I wish I had taken the broken sunglasses under Ms. Mars’s porch I had seen this morning. But I had left that place behind. I couldn’t go back now. I would have to get used to the warmer temperatures and brighter light here on Planet C.

I think you know why I’m here.

~~~

I’m still trudging along through this big Fashion Avenue planet’s only farm. It has a small forest from the way I came in, climbing over the small fence. I guess they don’t really expect anyone to be breaking in to a farm when they could be breaking into the most popular clothing store in the stellar system, so they don’t have much security here. Then I see it-a sky blue house with white shutters, just as I imagined from the way she had described it to me.

I can almost feel myself growing older as I hesitate on the front porch. Sheen was stressed and tired from not coming to the right destination that day we met- how do I know she even remembers me? But the growing arrogant part of me knocks on the door before the part of me that thinks things through even knows what’s happening. Almost immediately, as if she had been waiting for me, I see the pure white of the door retreat away, a flash of gleaming lavender hair, and suddenly I am wrapped in an embrace. Sheen stills wears strawberry shampoo.

After Sheen has introduced me to her parents again-since they had forgotten me the second they left, not that I expected anything more, we head upstairs to her room. I like this house. It is quaint, simple, humble, but more beautiful than any mansion I could imagine. And Sheen being in it makes it even more so.

~~~

I sleep on the floor after many pleads that I sleep in Sheen’s bed and she will sleep with her parents. I am used to it, I say. And it’s true. With a lock of her sweet-smelling hair drifting down to my face and the rough carpet almost having the texture of hay, I can almost imagine I am home.

But I will never have home. And almost is not enough.

~~~

“What did you want to talk to me about?” Sheen inquires, after we’re safely within the forest, with no chance of prying ears.

“Sheen, I know this might seem sudden, but you have no idea what I’ve been through. I left the barn yesterday because I got attacked-I made it out alright, but I still have no idea what those boys would have done to me if I hadn’t been able to get out of their grips. So, Sheen, you are the only person who cares about me. And don’t tell me your parents do too. They don’t. And don’t you dare tell me I’m wrong.”

She opened her mouth as if about to say something, just as I wondered if I had been too harsh. It wasn’t her fault, after all. It would never be her fault. She uncertainly closes her mouth and makes a tiny nod.

“I am going to run away. I will leave without you, so don’t think saying no is going to ‘save’ me or anything, but I want you to come with me, Sheen. Will you come with me?”

“You’re my only friend, Shadow.”

The comment hits me like nothing else has. Sheen, Sheen, and I’m her only friend? It makes no sense. She is a supermodel. I am nothing.

“I wish my parents could come, but… I understand. Sometimes, only sometimes, I want to escape too.”

Then she holds out her hand and waits. For a moment, I stare at it, astonished that she agreed. She chose me over her starbound life. Then I realize she wants to shake on it, and I grip her hand, almost collapsing of relief. I will not be alone. Even though I will always feel like it, I will not be alone.

~~~

7 Years Later

I watch the muscles on my arm clench, unclench, clench, unclench, as I stroll into Orkelia. I stare at the wall of the old orphanage in front of me, and feeling the need to get out some anger, punch straight through it. Though not much of an accomplishment, given the state it’s in, I still feel a bit of pride as Sheen walks up behind me and stares incredulously, and says,

“Sometimes I’m scared of you, you know that, Shadow?” I chuckle at her remark. Her lower lip twitches a little and I realize she was only half-joking. I brush my finger over her cheekbone, and lean down to kiss her softly. I am afraid she will pull away, but she seems to be in a lighter mood when I come back to meet her gaze.

It has been a couple years since we realized we were in love, and became boyfriend and girlfriend. As tempting as it seems, I didn’t come here to show off both her and my newfound strength to the old boys. At least, not the whole time.

I came here to retrieve something. As I pass through the empty barn door, apparently broken down by something or someone, I climb up the still-standing ladder, grab the blanket, and stuff it in my backpack before Sheen sees that I still hold on to such an emotional part of me. I try not to let it show, but sometimes, only before her, it sneaks out again.

When I look outside, I see someone with a familiar face- the old gang leader. I see a look of horror in his eyes. As I lean down again to make him realize that Sheen is mine now, Sheen looking from me to him dubiously because of it, I feel a surge of glee through my frozen heart. These people hurt me. And these people will pay.

#mywork

0 notes