#LOVE ITS JUST LORIC

[sodasnapz-main]

@timewornmain

no, no. these are horrors beyond your comprehension. i understand them, though. i desire them carnally.

[mooglesorts]

i have not been active on this blog in a While and being very normal about my old hyperfixation lorien legacies, which has an absolute fuckload of characters to sort, has finally gotten me to crawl out of my hole.

[spoilers ahead for both lorien legacies and its sequel series!]

there is a LOT of ground to cover here, and i am mostly going to limit myself to sorting characters and themes from the first series, but my initial notes are:

probably one of the biggest overarching themes of the series is toxic birdsec, and the harm it can do to every aspect of a society or a person's life--on both a systematic level and an individual one--right down to their basic humanity. by extension it also goes into similarly fucked up lion and bird primary used as weapons and tools of abuse, and how they interplay with each other.

a large part of this stems from setrákus ra being The Worst Fucking Lion Bird Ever to Live, lmao. he's an interesting example of birdsec interplaying with cannibal badger, and also of a lion bird who's a cheetah in that he uses systems as tools to manipulate people instead of actually believing them. he hands out toxic systems like candy while peppering them with outright lies, and blithely admits that even the one that he's put centuries into building--mogadorian progress, and the great book--is at its heart just a ruse to run his cult on. the truth he pretends to worship and champion isn't external, objective truth--it's an extension of him. he is the ultimate truth. and the only truth he believes in is his cause, which is that he has the right and ability to own, make use of, and do whatever he sees fit with everything in existence. everyone and everything that could possibly be a shiny or a tool belongs to him.

one of the other overarching themes is toxic badger primary and secondary--cannibal badgering AHOY--as well as toxic lion primary, and it is a great deal less intentional than the bird cautionary tale part lmao

five is a bird snake with deeply toxic lion primary and bird secondary models, one of which he picked up after getting involved with a cult, and one of which he's had since his abusive birdsec guardian started amputating his masks by trying to apply actor bird to them. :') his brand of birdsplode and snakeburn make him horribly, horribly vulnerable to the cult, especially combined with focused, one-on-one gaslighting and manipulation from setrákus himself, and he has to burn his bird right to a crisp to break away from it. i am very biased and i have so much to say about my boy, but i plan to go in depth about this later

there are a LOT of lionsecs among the loric garde kids. the only surviving ones who aren't lionsecs are marina's badger and five's snake (the latter of which is heavily villainized, lol); number one is either a lionsec or a snakesec, maggie is either a birdsec or a badgersec, and we don't really see enough of hannu to be sure, but my guess is badgersec. in context, whatever these books are saying here i am not sure i like it lmao

this stands in contrast to the non-garde allies, minus adam, who end up being Part of the Gang. sam and lexa are birdsecs, and sarah and malcolm are both badgersecs.

speaking of adam, he is a lion snake with a cool, calculated double bird performance/model, who has been waiting all his life for a chance to go Absolutely Feral. there are a lot of ways in which he's a real shithead, which track given his life and circumstances up to then but are also real 😬 sometimes, but like, good for him. go ape shitt, kid

nine is an awful, AWFUL double lion who models/performs the worst parts of badger primary; he also uses lionsec stereotypes and methods to misdirect people, so that he can hurt, gaslight, prey on, and abuse them. it's genuinely interesting how he does it, and i could go on for a long time about it, but it's also Infuriating because the authors really want you to love him for being a ~charming jerk with a heart of gold,~ so that is for another post. in the sequel series he also picks up a nasty posthumous birdsec model from sandor to gleefully torture children with so lmfao

there seem to be a lot of birdsecs and badgersecs among the mentor cêpans, which tracks, because, well, mentors. interestingly, it seems to be a pattern so far that the birdsec mentors are either some of the most deeply abusive among them (see: rey, sandor, and ethan even though he's an unofficial cêpan), or the most decent parents of them under the circumstances (see: katarina).

john is a hognose (badgery snake) 'i live here' snake lion, and a VERY loud one. he's set on saving the world mainly a) in order to save his People, or b) because it's what they would want. he also believes STRONGLY in snake values as applied to other people, and absolutely cannot grok that anyone would feel differently--he holds back on killing a major enemy because he's worried about killing a friendly acquaintance's Person--and honestly he can be kind of a huge dick about it lmao. he burns HARD at the end of the first series when sarah dies; in the second, he copes by making an entire community into his circle and no longer gives a shit about the rest of the world outside it, including groups who are in similar if not worse circumstances than his community. Horrific War Crimes Ensue!

rex is an everyone double badger and i love him so much. i love him So Much. he is a wonderful example of how to write a morally dubious character whose dodgy qualities interest me instead of making me grit my teeth and Tolerate Them. his arc could have fixed So Much of the Ending's Bullshit and i will be forever mad that they dumped it in the trash

there is more, oh my god there's so much more, this series has SO many characters in it, but this is a start thank you for coming to my ted talk

[lonewolfshayu]

The Power of Six Thoughts(not in order)

1 Crayton is a badass. He's so underrated. How could anyone forget how amazing his introduction was? Dude had rapid fire, automatic pistols. And was tough af. A welcome change after the previous Cêpan we've seen were pretty incompetent and not so great at fighting. Adelina included. And Henri. Sorry, Henri. Crayton and Conrad were the best fighters out of the Gardes' Cêpan. Especially Crayton.

2 Ella calling Crayton Papa is pretty cool. I kinda hate how none of the other Garde called their Cêpan as dad or mom. These kids were raised by them and hardly remember Lorien. Come on. Call Henri Dad, John. Haha.

3 How long were Crayton and Ella in Spain?

4 Marina is friends with an older man, Hector. This would NOT slide in 2022. A minor girl being with an older man will be seen as different.

5 Adelina died pointlessly. Marina had telekinesis and superspeed. Why tf couldn't she throw something at the Mogadorian with her mind or something? I don't get it. Bad writing. Forced drama.

6 Adelina is toxic as hell. Reading this is 2022 hits different now that people are more alert to abuse in general. I want to say screw Adelina. Seriously. The worst Cêpan for sure.

7 If Adelina just accepted Crayton into her life, she probably would've survived.

8 Six's past is not consistent with Six's Legacy novella. What she told John and Sam in the train is different from what actually happened. Why the hell didn't the writers of that novella read what actually happened in The Power of Six? They didn't read what Six told John and Sam, apparently. Sigh.

9 The police station fight scene was awesome. I loved it how John picked up a regular human pistol to kill Mogadorians. That detective threw a pencil at John. Police brutality. And screwed up. After that scene, Six says the Mogadorians almost killed her after John left with Sam in Paradise. What? Can't she turn invisible? How did Mogs almost kill her if they couldn't see her? The writers could've just not made Six say that.

10 Time issue. While Marina is fighting Mogadorians in Spain, Six is still in America. She takes a plane to Spain, but gets there when Marina is still fighting. This makes zero sense. The time span between the Spain fight's beginning and Six showing up wasn't long at all. Definitely not hours. No way a plane could've flown that fast.

11 Crayton tells Marina how Loridas met Ella and cast the charm on her blah blah. No, he didn't. It was all a lie. The Fall of Five said so. Why did Crayton lie in the first place about Ella being Number Ten? I don't think TFOF gave a reason. Anyway, it was stupid. Forced drama just for the sake of it. Ella not being a number didn't even change anything in the grand scheme of things, besides make her sad for one chapter.

12 Sister Dora paddled Ella. When Marina couldn't find her afterwards, I was thinking Ella aged up and Marina didn't recognize her(I spoiled the book before actually reading it. I knew Ella could change ages)

13 Marina says the Loric spaceship came to Earth in a storm of its own creation. The writers forgot about this, like they forgot Marina developed superspeed in this book. Like, later, Marina sprints and Ella matches her pace. Bro what? If Marina has superspeed, Ella shouldn't be able to keep up.

14 John gets paralyzed outside the burning house. He imagines the Mog killing him and then them moving on to kill Five. Five is a traitor. Would the Mogs have killed John/Four and then murdered Five because he's next in line for the charm? Even though he's working for them? Interesting question.

15 What happened to Legacy the cat? And did Marina's town get destroyed or just some of it? How tf do the Mogadorians have rockets? Why tf did Marina think Crayton was a Mogadorian? They don't look like Loric. Sigh, the errors, man. The errors...

16 Adelina sucks

[j4mboree]

BLUE CHANNEL THALASIN IS SO FRICKIN CWEEPY

the way they insinuate that the pills literally change the expression on your face and take advantage of that to create unholy horrors

using the human body's face is just AUGH I LOVE IT SO MUCH BUT IT STILL GAVE ME NIGHTMARES😫😫

the expression nage scared me the most mostly because i draw a lot of exaggerated mouths so seeing what that shit would look

like but in a realistic sense really broke me and i can no longer draw deimos from madness combat with the sharp teeth without

getting vietnam flash backs to the dreaded nage jumpscare (bro my profile pic is just nage in a nutshell😂😂)

dorcelessness is also creepy, i didnt really think much of it at first but after contemplating it at night i realized how fucking

horrifying it truly is

i can only remember one name of the others which was loric cant really remember which silly face it was i think it was the one

with the scrunched up head hanging like a lamp

hope that guy is okay even though hes just a drawing i wanna know more about him i like to think hes just a shapeshifter

who they got to reenact all those faces without dying on the spot (but then again how would shapeshifters exist in that

universe if its supposed to be like ours??)

[katymacsupernatural]

Fourteen Steps

Dean Winchester x Reader

1500 Words

Story Summary: Close to Christmas, Y/N finds herself trapped, losing all hope that she will be saved.

This is written for @thing-you-do-with-that-thing and @like-a-bag-of-potatoes 12 Days of Christmas Challenge. Today���s prompt: Wishing upon a star.

Twenty-two steps from one corner of the wall to the next.  Fourteen steps from the wall to the door. Eight cracked stones in the wall letting in the slightest bit of light, along with the winter breeze that sent goosebumps up and down your body.

Sixteen days. That’s how long you had been stuck in this room, with only one small window towards the top of your cell letting you know if it was day or night. With one threadbare blanket to keep you warm on the bumpy cot, a small metal toilet the only other furniture in this hell hole.

The first few days you had been hopeful, knowing that Dean wouldn’t rest until you were found and the Demons who had taken you were killed. But as you scratched another mark into the wall, your hopes fell to the stone floor below you, shattered.

The Demons didn’t help much either. Each time they would show up, bringing your meager meal of the day, they would laugh in your face, reminding you that you had been forgotten by the Winchesters. That they had never cared about you to begin with. That you would spend Christmas in this tiny, cold room that was smaller than the bunker’s bathroom, before they would finally put you out of your misery.

After the seventh day, you couldn’t handle it anymore. As snow fell steadily down outside your small window, you cried out in frustration, your hands pounding mercilessly on the unforgiving stone wall. As blood poured down your shredded hands, you slid to the ground, tears pouring down your cheeks. “Dean, where are you?” You whispered, but you had a feeling you would never get out of this room. It was to be your tomb, the last place you would ever take a breath.

After that fateful day, you met each one the same. Moved methodically around your small room, pacing to keep your muscles as strong as you could, but you were numb. Your heart was no longer full of hope that Dean would come. It had resigned itself to your fate, knowing that nothing was going to change. Your mind kept itself busy counting, anything you could to keep yourself from going crazy. How many steps it took to cross the floor. How many stones before you reached the wall. Anything to keep hidden the fact that you weren’t going to make it out of here alive.

Waking up on Day sixteen felt different. Your body was heavy, each movement a burden. It took twice as long to carve the new mark into the wall, and there was no energy left to even attempt to eat the moldy bread that was shoved your way. Knowing that this was it, this was the end of your life before the Demon’s took it from you, you stood as close as you could to the window, staring at the clear night sky. No clouds to block your vision, no snow falling down to block your view of the vibrant stars.

As a child you had wished on the occasional star, giving up when it had never come true. But as a shooting star filled your small window, you had to give it one more shot. You wanted nothing more than to see Dean one more time. To let him hold you against his chest, to feel those plump lips against yours once again. You wanted to decorate the bunker for Christmas, to wake up to Dean’s kisses on Christmas morning. You wanted to die saving people, not being bait for some stupid Demon’s who couldn’t even do that right.

“I don’t know if I even know how to do this anymore.” You whispered, your voice croaking from lack of use. “But I wish upon this star, hoping that my dream comes true. I wish that Dean comes to save me, or that I don’t have to suffer any more. Please, let me see Dean one more time.”

Blowing a kiss to the star, you sank down onto the cot, wrapping the blanket around your shivering shoulders. It was only days to Christmas, and you could feel the winter breeze blowing through the cracks. If the Demons didn’t kill you, the cold certainly would.

Cuddling with your face to the wall, you tried to fall asleep. Sleep was your one escape. It was there you could dream about Dean, and the happy moments the two of you shared together. It’s where you could pretend that you still had a future with Dean to look forward to.

Slowly the cold faded away, the stones faded until the creamy walls of the bunker came into view. Dean was laying on his bed, a huge smile on his face as he waited for you to join him. Smiling, you made your way to him, when a loud skirmish sounded outside the room.

“What’s going on?” You asked him, wanting nothing more than to cuddle in his arms. “Whatever it is, make it stop!”

“I’m coming for you sweetie.” He promised, before the bunker vanished and the cold stone wall was once again in front of you. But the sounds of the struggle sounded from outside your room, a loud groan before a thud against the wall. Tucking your knees underneath you, you stared at the thin line of light underneath the door, wondering if this was it. The Demons were coming to kill you.

The sounds outside stopped suddenly, the door creaking as a shoulder slammed into it. Dean’s voice called out, and you wondered if you were still in a dream. Or if you had passed from this life. You had been here for sixteen days with no hope. There was no way that could be your Dean Winchester outside the door.

Finally, the wood gave in to the heavy pounding, cracking and falling to the floor. There stood Dean, his chest heaving, blood cascading down his temple, his eyes searching the room before landing on your huddled form in the corner. “Y/N?” He called out, stepping into the room, and yet you stared at him, wondering if this was another dream of yours.

Crossing the room in six steps instead of fourteen, he fell to his knees in front of you, his eyes searching your face frantically. “Y/N, please tell me you’re okay. I’m sorry it took us so long, sweetheart.”

“Dean, is that really you?” You whispered, reaching out and touching his cheek. The stubble poked your skin, the blood sticking on your finger, but it was real. He was real, and he was there. Your wish had come true. “I wished on a star for you to come.”

“I’m here sweetheart.” He promised you, sinking onto the cot and pulling you into his arms. Closing your eyes, you breathed in his familiar scent, letting it calm you.

“Dean, we need to go!” Sam yelled from the doorway, a smile on his face when he saw Dean’s arms around you. Standing up, Dean took your hand. Guiding you the fourteen steps to the door, you stepped across the threshold, your entire body relaxing as you finally left that small prison behind.

Bodies of the Demons lay scattered around the hallway, and you carefully stepped over them, never letting go of Dean’s hand. It wasn’t until you were finally outside that you could finally take a deep breath. The clouds had moved in, snow lightly falling down onto Dean’s precious car. Opening the back door, Dean helped you slide in, before closing you in.

Once the familiar rumble of the Impala vibrated your seat, it truly hit you. You were no longer in that prison. Dean had finally come, as you had always thought he would. “Dean.” You started, his green eyes meeting yours in the rear-view mirror.

“Yeah sweetheart?” He asked.

“I wished upon a star. And you came.” You whispered, awestruck.

He didn’t have anything to say to that. Instead, he just smiled at you, and you could see the tension melting away from him as well. “Dean.” You asked again.

“Yeah sweetheart.” He answered the same, making you smile lightly.

“Can we decorate the bunker when we get home?” You asked him, needing some Christmas cheer. Something colorful after the blank gray walls.

“Of course. You’re back safe and sound with me. I’d give you the moon if you’d ask.” He admitted, not missing the crooked smile on his brothers face.

“Just a tree would be nice.” You giggled slightly, the gray walls fading away, the fourteen steps between the wall and door no longer having as much meaning. You had decorating to look forward to. You had waking up on Christmas with Dean’s arms wrapped around you to look forward to.

Dean/Jensen Tags: @acreativelydifferentlove @a-girl-who-loves-disney @akshi8278 @anokhi07 @aubreystilinski @bebravekeeponfighting @colette2537 @crusadedean @deanwinchesters-impala67 @haelyn @ikeneasul11 @its-not-a-tulpa @msimpala67 @mysteriously-lost @lenaabs @love-charmer-sketch @ruprecht0420 @shadowhunter7 @sizzlingbearpolice @sleep-silent-angel @sortaathief @superseejay721517 @thesaneone @queen--glitch

Forever Tags(Closed): @16wiishes @amanda-teaches @andreaaalove @angelsandwinchesters @anxuanpham @artisticpoet @atc74 @babydanixox @bambinovak @bea789 @be-amaziing @beltz2016 @benjerry707 @bish-its-me @bohowitch @boxywrites @bradygabrielle-blog @brooke-supernatural16 

 @brunettechick @buffytheangelslayer @camelotandastronauts @cantsleepian @cascar24 @castielhasthetardis @captainaudreystark @captainemwinchester @captainradicalpassion @chelsea072498 @clairese1980 @createdbybadappreciation  @criesateverything @crystal923  @darthdeziewok

 @delessapeace-blog @destiel-addict-forever @disneychic8 @dixonsvixon2017 @docharleythegeekqueen @dontslurp @dont-you-dare-say-misha @dslocum89 @duckieburns @easelweasel  @edward-lover18 @emmazach @emoryhemsworth @emmysthougts @ericaprice2008 @evyiione @essie1876 

@extreme-supernatural-lover @faegal04 @freakintasticfan @freddy-fuckboy-tammy @gabriels-trix @generalgoldfishldrm @ginamsmith @gloria1097  @goldenolaf25 @growningupgeek @haleyhay96 @hetsgrinch @hollandisstilinski @hunterpuff @iliketowrite02 @imboredsueme @impatient-witch @inlovewithbja @iriyelle  @ithinkimadorable-67 @iwriteaboutdean 

@jarpadandjensenaremyheroes @jayankles @jenna-luke @jensen-gal @juatanotherbandgirl @just-another-busy-fangirl @karlee-fay-my-wayward-son @katelynbkool @keelzy2 @likesiriusly @linki-locks11 @li-ssu @littleblue5mcdork @livingasafangirl @loricwizardbluetoastedcake @love-untiltheresnoloveleft @lowlyapprentice  @mariahoedt 

@marvelandwinchesters927 @maui137 @mellowlandrunaway @mogaruke @moosesamdeancasbees @mrsbatesmotel53 @mrssamfuckingwinchester @mrswhozeewhatsis @myplaceofthingsilove @my-squirrel-and-moose @nanie5 @naviwhite  @nerdybookwormsinger @ohgodjensen @oneshoeshort 

@padackles2010 @pancake-pages @percussiongirl2017 @pilaxia @pizzarollpatrol @plaid-lover-bay25 @jayankles @procratsinator @quiverhope @randomthings077 @ria132love @riversong-sam @rosegoldquintis @roxyspearing @sai-kida134 @samisimportant @sammysgirl1997 @sandlee44

 @sanity-is-overratedxp @saoirsewhittle @sgarrett49 @sgtbxckybxrnes @shamelesslydean @simplycheyenneautumn @spnbaby67 @spnbaby-67  @spn-dscc @starstruck-sugg @summer-binging-spn @superbadassnatural @supernatural-jackles   @tardis-full-of-fallen-angels @tatortot2701 

@thebikiniinspector @the--blackdahlia @thoughtsoftheantagonist  @tokentransboy @trashforwinchesters @tunadean @upon-a-girl  @vvinch3st3r @walkslikesummeractslikerain @waywardmoeyy @winchester-writes @wonderange @zombiewerewolfqueen

[rcids-blog]

oh, look, it’s me again !! i’m cj...if ya didn’t know already. and this is my trash son reid ( meet my trash daughter tav here ). i’ll keep this part short since i already rambled on tav’s intro so we’ll just get into this !!

POTENTIAL TRIGGER WARNINGS: murder mention, gang/mob, etc?

[ mr. brightside: muse d | matthew daddario, cismale, he/him ] — have you seen reid loric, the political science student around oxford yet? i hear the twenty-six year old can be manipulative and uncaring, but those who know them insist that they are observant and loyal. rumour has it that he is responsible for all the graffiti showing up on campus lately. is it true? only time will tell.

FAMILY & BACKSTORY

reid is the oldest of three. he has twin sisters that are..,,.. four years younger than him; alyssa & dana n he would honestly protecc them with his Life if he could ( a runnin theme w my charas ik dont judge meeee )

his mum & dad were the CEO of a N*ce enterprise which,,, right b4 the next sequence of events reid was just Startin to get groomed for rip me

when he was a kid his happy lil fam went to ‘murcia for holiday n all was fine and dandy ! until one of the last days

his parents went to get gas & told their kids to Hold Tight while they went inside n ,,, they did 4 the most part ‘cept lyss ... so lyss saw 2 men go in n rob the place n .......,,,...,, kill their parents n it was ... gruesome dnt talk to me....... Lyss saw it w her lIL BABY EYES

so all three of them hid whiel the robbers ransacked the place & drove away bc Smart Kids that dnt wanna die....,,...,

rip he was ,.,,..,,,13 at the time? his lil babie sisters were 9 so yah. he def remembers n my innocent lil bOY got subjected to that :(((( which turned him into a Not So Innocent boy rip

anyway ! all reid wants to do is protect his sisters bc he fucked up that one time n wasn’t able to protect them from seeing their parents get kiLLED in cold blood 

most ppl realized that reid was gna protecc his sisters tho which sort of backfired bc they just waited for him to go away to fuck with them ...,,.. usually went for lyss which like ... reid is so emo and guilty abt like ? why cant he just protecc his sisters properly?? hes so sad :(((

anyway they got thrown into foster care bc....they were kids n could not take care of themselves n for SOME reason their american relatives were like “yikes? three kids? no thx !!!!” like same bud same

it wasnt gr8 bc all their foster families were those ‘horror story’ foster families yk so @ 19 reid was like ‘lets get us all the FUCK outta here’ bc there was no fuckignngngg way he was leaving his baby sisters rip

and this is where they met their wonderful new mob dadd bc he sees them on the street and Pity and Potential yk ... 

reid rly fell into the life. it was some .. stability for him and he was gna hold on tight esp since he knew his sisters were saFE now...relatively

the onyl time reid was like “ya fuck u” to the mob dadd was when it involved his sisters bc he aint abt that life dont FUCK with his family

but uh he worked his way up in the mob p well,,,,hes def one of the top ten guys now but like…….. at the same time he knew he wasnt gna get any further w/o the help of his lovely benefactor n so

they worked together to get him accepted into oxford a-la connections n uh here he is,,,,workin on political science which he takes p seriously and … is studying way too often :/ yikes what a fuckin neRD

tryna figure out whom the fuck killed his parents on the side but No One knows dont talk to me

PERSONALITY & COLLEGE LIFE

lowkey hates america bc of the holiday-gone-wrong n his american fam sucks n ... a grudge neva gonn die

doesn’t talk a lot. keeps his words to a minimum,,...,,, to the point where u prob think that he doesnt like u. this may not show in my writin bc ... its kinda hard to keep a thread goin when someone doesnt ... respond but .... just for hc sake .... yall know....

if he DOES talk a lot he usually has an ulterior motive like...bih be careful if he’s talking to u bc .... somethin’s up

will def talk about his artwork tho just wont let u know he’s talking about his artwork. will talk shit abt it just to get u to defend it i HATE him :))))

will also study talk but like dnt try and small talk if ur studying w him bc it wont fuckigngng work

me: he doesn’t talk / also me: he talks under all these circumstances 

final circumstance(s): he cares about u. he’s super drunk !

protective af to Any and Every person dont get me started

doesn’t know u but sees that ur in a compromising situation? saved. ur hero.

dont thank him for it he doesnt want the recognition mostly bc the next day hes prob takin the other person down rip will u ever see them again? who knows !

always watching … always listening … ready 2 fuck shit up and not even let anyone realize hes doin it….

SECRET DETAILS

sO part of him was all xcmnbvmznxbcv about the mob n the .... unfortunate dealings he had to deal w because of it

so to take out his.....frustration on the ... things he has 2 do he created a “healthy” ( mostly illegal ) alternative which is where :)) his graffiti comes in yay reid

the past few months, campus has been popping up w random ass art pieces all over the place. they’re usually decent in size but def not murals; and typically evoke emotion but no one ? can rly figure out what the FUCK they actually mean xcept,, ofc ,, reid.

and he wont tell u dont talk to me hes a jerk

[officialpittacuslore]

you know what ship I'm gonna ask so ill save the finger energy

Carmina we’re both starved of good stohn content, I get it

who’s the cuddler: God, they’re both gonna be cuddly when they allow themselves to open themselves up to a physical and romantic relationship but I’d say that Nine is going to be more tactile than John is. Nine is going to pull John in more and express his affection a bit more physically, not like sexual but like arm around the shoulder or a hand on the hip, because he’s going to be proud to call someone he respects a partner, ya feel.

who makes the bed: John Smith and his high maintenance ass

who wakes up first: Honestly, it’s a trade off, but Nine I think edges out how many times he’s woken up before John to sort of hide himself in those few months when they weren’t completely ready to show every little detail of themselves. Like, John can read Nine, but Nine will still hide the way he makes himself sweat.

who has the weird taste in music: John likes his soft rock from the 80′s along with his indie pop fusion once and a while, but Nine bumps all kinds of hip hop, rap and grunge so they agree to give someone else the aux in the car rides.

who is more protective: It’s perfectly matched. They both trust the other to hold out on their own but they both can’t help but worry. Like Nine is one of the smartest fighters the Garde have(or at least its claimed he is but he does jack shit strategy wise except for the stupid capture the flag scene, oops) but he’s still worrying about if the strongest Loric in modern history is ok for the littlest things. John’s extra ass can’t stop worrying about any of his partners, its in his DNA to make sure his partner is safe at all times. He’s affectionate and passionate about whoever he is with, he’s going to protect them from everything. Or at least try to.

who sings in the shower: Both do but who gets caught more? John. And he’s not that good.

who cries during movies: Neither. They’ve seen enough real life shit that the fake stuff doesn’t really affect them.

who spends the most while out shopping: Nine’s gotta flex once and a while just because he can.

who kisses more roughly: I’d say they both have the same passion when they kiss but like, I ain’t going into details about their love making since I’m trying to make a 5+1 smut fic and I need to focus all of my brainstorming on that

who is more dominate:

my rating of the ship from 1-10: 49/10 you fucks, it’s my inspiration to be a writer and a creator, nothing can take that away

send me a ship!

[knaveofmogadore]

They can share all clothes. Adam loves tying John's baggy shirt and making them into croptops. John loves taking Adam's clothes because they hang off him in the best contour hiding way.

They can't share binders, to their often accidental discomfort. Picking one up at random is a hazard, because they're three cup sizes apart.

John will stand in front of the mirror for ages, pinching at his hips and glaring at his own form. Adam will come up behind him and wrap his arms around his shoulders. He'll kiss his cheek and call him handsome and it doesn't fix everything but it makes John smile and feel a little bit better.

Adam is very slim and androgynous without trying, John is very curvy and has Thunder Thighs. 

Their cycles sync. Adam has very bad cramps the first day but a light flow after that. Meanwhile, John is a sweaty disgusting ball on the couch that is slowly dying and begging for chocolate. Adam hopes that eventually his cuddles will be enough to ease his pain.

Adamus: Haha, sucker, Lorics get periods. Adamus, after a period of proper nutrition, in a stress free environment where he's surrounded by constants and his body can stabilize: What The Fresh Hell Is This Bullshit

John buys make up thinking "I'm a man no matter what, I can do what I want and gender roles ain't got nothing on me." He never wears it, one because he's bad at it and two because it makes his dysphoria go Through The Roof. Adam looks good in it though, so he doesn't feel bad about his impulse buys.

Adam gets up an hour or more before John, takes a shower, brushes his teeth, and then spends the rest of the time until his boyfriend wakes up getting ready. Some days John has to hip bump him away from the sink because Adam decided he wanted to draw all over his face ten minutes before John rolled out of bed and debated taking a shower. 

John rolls out of bed, sort of combs his hair, and some days won't even put on a binder, much less a shirt, unless its absolutely five minutes before he has to go anywhere

John is so excited for his first T shot that Adam has to do it for him, his hands are shaking too much. 

Adam bought a packer that ended up being too...big, and uncomfortable, and so he never wore it. Adam leaves this packer in "fun" places, with a sticky note taped to it. It shows up in the fridge, "Buy milk." On the coffee table, "Even gods need to sleep, take a nap while I'm gone." On the table where they drop their keys by the door, "Love you, have a great day." 

Adam and John both love Funky Socks. Adam is the only one who can wear them.

Adamus: Hey babe look at these cool socks John, with his chunky legs that defy all sock logic: Why are you taunting me like this.

John can shape shift, but that's work and after a long day you just want to come home and let your legacies rest while you cuddle your alien boyfriend, you know?

[abiroleplays]

roblicity, loric, caisy, jam, cattie, cava

Roblicity

who said i love you first? Rob

who laughs when the other trips? Rob

who pays the bills? Rob physically pays them cos Felicity’s so busy

which one makes a bigger deal around the holidays? Felicity

who’s more clumsy? It’s Rob but he refuses to believe that

who checks their daily horoscope? I feel like Felicity might do it as a joke but then get invested

who sings louder in the car? Rob

who leaves the cap off the toothpaste? Rob, he’s awful

who is more up to date in pop culture? Rob

who insists on going to see the newest movies? Felicity

who cries when the abused animal commercials come on? Felicity

who’s the lighter sleeper? Both of them have to be pretty light sleepers when theyre on call, but when theyre at home, its Rob

who believes in ghosts? Felicity

who does the grocery shopping? Rob

who updates their facebook status more often? Neither, theyre not 40

Loric

who said i love you first? Eric

who laughs when the other trips? Lori does

who pays the bills? Eric, Lori is a housewife she dont do SHIT

which one makes a bigger deal around the holidays? Lori

who’s more clumsy? I dont see either of them as particularly clumsy, but I guess Lori

who checks their daily horoscope? Lori

who sings louder in the car? Lori has to start it but then Eric is really loud

who leaves the cap off the toothpaste? Eric

who is more up to date in pop culture? Lori

who insists on going to see the newest movies? Lori

who cries when the abused animal commercials come on? Loi

who’s the lighter sleeper? Lori

who believes in ghosts? Loi

who does the grocery shopping? Lori

who updates their facebook status more often? Lori and she shares like twenty times a day its honestly awful

caisy

who said i love you first? Daisy, and then she was really annoyed that it slipped out first, despite the fact that Cara said it in return immediately

who laughs when the other trips? Daisy, never moved on from that dance studio bullying

who pays the bills? Daisy, Cara doesnt understand the american way

which one makes a bigger deal around the holidays? Daisy

who’s more clumsy? Cara

who checks their daily horoscope? Cara

who sings louder in the car? Daisy

who leaves the cap off the toothpaste? Neither, theyre not animals

who is more up to date in pop culture? Daisy probably

who insists on going to see the newest movies? Cara

who cries when the abused animal commercials come on? They both sit there sobbing

who’s the lighter sleeper? Daisy

who believes in ghosts? Cara

who does the grocery shopping? the order online cos theyre lazy

who updates their facebook status more often? Cara tweets more

jam

who said i love you first? Sam

who laughs when the other trips? Sam

who pays the bills? They both pay their own bills they dont live together

which one makes a bigger deal around the holidays? Sam, for Peter

who’s more clumsy? Sam

who checks their daily horoscope? Neither of them

who sings louder in the car? Sam

who leaves the cap off the toothpaste? Jason, just another reason why hes the worst tm

who is more up to date in pop culture? Sam

who insists on going to see the newest movies? Sam

who cries when the abused animal commercials come on? Jason

who’s the lighter sleeper? Jason

who believes in ghosts? I feel like they both do ngl

who does the grocery shopping? Sam

who updates their facebook status more often? Sam, but only with like cute stuff Pete does for her family

cattie

who said i love you first? Cat

who laughs when the other trips? Mattie

who pays the bills? Both they hella rich

which one makes a bigger deal around the holidays? Cat makes them special for mattie cos holidays with her fam usually sucked and were full of fake drama

who’s more clumsy? Mattie

who checks their daily horoscope? Both tbh

who sings louder in the car? Mattie

who leaves the cap off the toothpaste? Mattie

who is more up to date in pop culture? They are pop culture

who insists on going to see the newest movies? Cat

who cries when the abused animal commercials come on? Mattie

who’s the lighter sleeper? Mattie

who believes in ghosts? Cat

who does the grocery shopping? Neither of them lol

who updates their facebook status more often? Theyre both pretty present in social media

cava

who said i love you first? cara said it in a “love you bye” kind of way and they both felt awkward for days

who laughs when the other trips? Ava, cos surely cara should be more co-ordinated

who pays the bills? They dont really have joint bills

which one makes a bigger deal around the holidays?  Cara

who’s more clumsy? Cara

who checks their daily horoscope? Cara

who sings louder in the car? Cara

who leaves the cap off the toothpaste? Ava

who is more up to date in pop culture? Ava

who insists on going to see the newest movies? Cara

who cries when the abused animal commercials come on? Cara

who’s the lighter sleeper? Ava

who believes in ghosts? Ava

who does the grocery shopping? Ava

who updates their facebook status more often? Neither lmao

[goddamnalientourists]

Summary: John was pretty sure he’d fallen asleep in a cave; not some sort of weird looking medical facility. His head throbbing, he turns to the highrise windows of the room, and - it stops. It all stops. There are two moons, right there, right there up in the sky. Illuminating a city the likes of which he’s never seen. Lorien, he thinks, I’m on Lorien.

 1.

He’d been young once. A kid who believed in make believe and promises of love everlasting. Who was hopeful for a happy ending.

But in years since he’s learnt that hope is hopeless, and there’s no such thing as a happy endings, not really.

There’s just life, and the people who make do.

Whatever he’d expected the end of the war to be he doesn’t remember clearly – living happily ever after, marrying Sarah, having kids, some kind of impossible utopia where it was all sunshine and rainbows and nothing ever went wrong.

Perhaps at some point there was a vague idea that he’d go to Lorien, his home planet, but that didn’t happen, and now in all likelihood it never would. John thinks about that sometimes, and it makes him choke up. Because out there, beyond the sky, just out of reach, was the home of his ancestors; an abandoned sunken graveyard.

What had happened to Henri’s assertions that one day Lorien would be reformed to its former beauty, once the war was won? Sure, the Loric entity – whatever the heck it even is, another thing to keep him awake at night - was alive on Earth, but Lorien, the real Lorien, was still out there, circling its sun in silence. A wreck; the ultimate reminder of hopes and promises unfulfilled.

Sometimes, when he feels like torturing himself, he looks up at the sky – unblemished by light pollution up here in the Himalayas (a safe haven for an old friend, and now him); he can see quite clearly the far away sun which never really belonged to him. Its light shines down from where he is watching it now. The very same light which many, many, many years ago shined upon the Loric people. Did Eight look up at the stars when he lived here, contemplating his fate as written on the cave walls? Knowing that he would never go home?

God, it was all so fucking unfair!

John storms back into the cave, stopping to stand in front of the blank wall. Useless prophecies. What good were they when all they did was force such terrible burdens upon children. He wishes he could find whoever dictated that prophecy on to the cave, wishes he could make them explain their actions.

He lies down on the make shift bed he’s set up, more of a mat really, and settles in for what he expects to be a restless night. With eyes closed, his mind begins to contemplate something he’s contemplated before, will contemplate again, he’s sure. What would it have been like if Lorien had never been invaded? If he had never been Number Four, never been John, Daniel, and all those other aliases he’d had moving around with Henri? What would those cities have looked like, those jungles and forests, the lush wildlife, long since burned to the ground?

It’s to these images, these questions, that he plunges into oblivion.

Time passes.

John continues to sleep.

There are no dreams.

No nightmares.

For a while, just peaceful oblivion.

And then he wakes up.

In a bed.

Hooked up to some weird looking thing monitoring his vitals.

John was pretty sure he’d fallen asleep in a cave; not some sort of weird looking medical facility. His head throbbing, he turns to the high-rise windows of the room, and - it stops. It all stops. There are two moons, right there, right there up in the sky. Illuminating a city the likes of which he’s never seen. Lorien, he thinks, I’m on Lorien.

Alarms on the monitor start to blare as he vitals go crazy; John is dimly aware of people entering the room, saying something, perhaps to each other or maybe to him. He’s doesn’t really care.

He should. He should care. He should be full of adrenaline, aware of his surroundings, trying to figure out whatever the hell was going on.

But he doesn’t; because this isn’t real. It can’t be.

Whatever he was seeing, hearing, experiencing right now was some kind of vivid hallucination.

Lorien was a dead planet, destroyed in a single, callous act of planetary genocide.

And this Lorien, the one through the glass, it wasn’t just alive, it was thriving.

It wasn’t Lorien. 

It couldn’t be.

[londontheatre]

I had the privilege of seeing Chivaree circus earlier this year with their show Becoming Shades at the Vaults festival. Consequently, I had extremely high expectations for their new production Crash at the Cockpit theatre. Without a shadow of a doubt, I can say it exceeded my expectations!

What is love? Ultimately, it’s a rollercoaster ride of emotion. It raises us up to dizzying heights, but the higher you climb the harder you fall – or should I say Crash. Civaree’s newest production has storytelling and human emotion at its heart. It’s engaging, challenging, exciting, and at times, confronting. To put it bluntly, it’s real! There are no conjurer’s tricks or illusions, just tirelessly honed physical skill, underpinned by raw, unadulterated emotion.

The integration of circus and cabaret is perfectly balanced, ensuring that audiences are focused on the story and emotional motivation rather than the spectacle of the stunts. That’s not to say that the physical prowess goes unnoticed or unappreciated but rather that it is so beautifully complemented by the story that it feels part of the greater narrative. The end result is a poignant and awe-inspiring performance.

Our Emcee for the evening, Dusty Limits, is a delight to watch. Indeed, should Kander and Ebb’s Cabaret come to town he would do well to front up for the role of the same name. Walking a fine line between keeping the audience on edge and building a trusted relationship, he brings a wealth of charisma and warmth, offset by a healthy dose of sarcasm and cynicism, finished off with stunning vocals.

Having previously seen Rebecca Rennison perform I had some idea of what to expect, but if possible her passion and intensity were even greater in this production. Unwavering focus and what can only be described as a well-harnessed aggression make it impossible to take your eyes off her… and that’s before you take into account her physical strength and skill with the silks. Again, a flawless integration of physical performance grounded in emotion – a perfect example of why Chivaree consistently produce amazing work!

On the Cyr wheel is Lil Rice who opens the show and sets the bar almost impossibly high for the remaining performers. Her vocal control is astounding, unwavering even when she is upside down and spinning at a disarming rate!

Acrobats Pete and Loric are arguably my favourite act of the production! Their alternative take on Singing in the Rain is a refreshing lift in the mood, after several acts focusing on the downward stretch of the love rollercoaster, but refreshing nostalgia soon turns to wonderment when the two begin their stunts. The synchronicity with which they move and their needlepoint precision leaves audiences awestruck. Despite a slight tumble, their tenacity and focus when re-attempt the stunt demonstrates that these are consummate professionals of the highest degree and If I may say so, to see the results of a minor miscalculation in a stunt such as this further increased my respect for these performers, reminding us of the level of risk; just like love, one mistake can cause a devastating crash.

I cannot recommend this company highly enough and would fully embrace any opportunity I have to enjoy their work. Setting the pace in the London circus scene this is a show that demonstrates Chivaree will not rest on their laurels and will continue to push boundaries in circus and cabaret entertainment.

Review Cassandra Griffin

CRASH is a rollercoaster of feelings, a symphony of colliding bodies. A show that chases moments of emotional intensity, a story about life’s ups and downs, a celebration of strength and fragility. The premiere of CRASH will take place at The Cockpit Theatre as part of the Camden Fringe Monday 21st and Tuesday 22nd August 2017 with further dates to be announced in 2018. Press welcome on either days.

Featuring breath-taking aerial dance, intimate acrobatics, jaw-dropping fire performance, and an array of circus artists of the highest ability CRASH is a raw poetic exploration of human feelings in their purest form.

CAMDEN FRINGE FESTIVAL The Cockpit Theatre Gateforth St, Marylebone, London, NW8 8EH

http://ift.tt/2xcFC4w LondonTheatre1.com

[officialpittacuslore]

Title: Ever Loved Me Word Count: 7.7K Ships: Stohn, Pittrakus, Oadam, Navrina, Samix, mentioned Nitrand, mentioned Adive, mentioned Jarah Lorien love is purity in all forms.

The raw emotion, one so powerful it defies the basic chemicals in the mind, that those born on the distant planet posses has always something humanity would long for until the end of time. To become entirely infatuated with your loved ones, your allies, and every aspect of your life until death tore you apart was a luxury that the people of earth severely lacked. Humans fight and kill over all of the things that don’t matter compared to life; blood is shed for ideology, for turf, for the sake of proving who is best, with not a second glance at the damages their harm brings onto others. Humans have used war as a tool for centuries, it is their way and has been since the dawn of time. Loric scholars have been watching the distant planet rotate since the first civilization was mapped, trying to aid its growth anyway they could without completely buckling themselves. One answer was obvious and would be for as long as time allowed it; to give worthy humans Legacies and enlighten them of the magic of Lorien Love was the absolute last option. Earth has always envied Lorien for its powers, for the conscious connection that caused peace amongst its own people; the Loric don’t have to kill each other to prove anything, they can just exist. The Loric don’t have to measure up to a challenge with violence, they can always find another way to solve their differences. Perhaps that is why the Loric were given powers beyond their wildest dreams, because they would lack those urges to use them as weapons against one another.

Mogadore must have felt that agency, the freedom of the Loric’s love, and became desperate to inherit it. Mogadore wanted to be weightless by the mortality they were unfairly bestowed. Thus, they could be taken over so foolishly by a man who no longer could love the way he was born to. Setrakus Ra, the Great Leader of the Mogadorian race and Lorien’s biggest threat since their race first learned to fight in countless intergalactic wars. For he, Setrakus Ra, had their weaknesses down to a science, he knew exactly what would ruin the legendary Garde and resourceful Cepan; for he was once one of them. Setrakus Ra lost the ability to love like a Loric when he turned himself and an entire race of people far away into cruel experiments. He lost the drive and passion for his own life that he begun to lust after the blood of others alike him. But Ra was no fool, he couldn’t quietly murder Mogs and maintain his power over them. His blood lust was particular. He needed to kill something worth his while; a monster after a while can become an indescribable beast with a far more dangerous mind than body after all. He could use that new weapon carefully, however, and turn them against one of their sole allies, the ones with everything to lose.

The Loric.

Setrakus Ra once loved like a Loric when he could still remember the part of him that was as pure as the planet itself; he loved with the same color of the forests and lakes of Lorien, with the same strength as the Elders and with the same radiance as the race itself. He once could do it all when he married and bared a family with a Cepan female from his youth, Celwe. But, he had lost her; she found a way to slip past the canopy made of his love after he transformed into his own personal nightmare. He lost her most when Setrakus realized he couldn’t love her the same way as he loved another.

When he realized that the myth of him is true, for the Loric can only, truly, give all of their love to one for their entire life.

At an early age, before they could have realized the consequences for letting themselves falling too fast, Setrakus Ra had fallen in love with Pittacus Lore and went to war on himself when he could no longer bare it. When Setrakus couldn’t give all of himself to Celwe, he gave what pieces were left to his work instead.

He gave the remaining shards of his being to the act of murdering the Loric people, blaming them for cursing him with a love in this way. Setrakus took his wrath and made it into genocide as he manipulated Mogadore and told them to attack their truest enemy.

The love of his life knew he was coming.

Pittacus Lore knew Setrakus would come back and reign his terror on their people. He knew the extent, and knew there was only so much he could now do for his people; he had failed to be their savior for as long as they needed him. In a feeble attempt, condemning his late actions forever and ignoring the entire Loric race in the process, Pittacus Lore allied with the elders to save their people in long term by putting all of their legacy and love into nine handpicked children. Distant descendants of each elder, the Garde children were meant to save the race and defeat the darkness in Setrakus’ Ra’s wake. With them and their Cepans to guide them, the nine Garde could unlock the last of Lorien’s love, sealed far beneath the surface of the Earth, and win. The children were to protect those in order of each other, to lay their lives down for the Garde that followed.

Those numbers were randomized; a safety measure, for it worst came to worst and Mogadore could decode their charm. Then all the progress would be lost for nothing.

The children and their partners, with a mere few of Lorien’s own chimera, were sent in the midst of the planet’s final moments.

Lorien would finally share its love with Earth and with Mogadore.

For Pittacus Lore had also, unconditionally and would as he took he finally breath on Earth in the arms of Malcolm Goode, loved Setrakus Ra. He would share that love with others instead of himself.

To prove the ends of his love, unbeknownst to the pair who carefully handed over the granddaughter of the man responsible for their massacre to the Cepan Crayton in secret, Lore blessed the tenth child with a sparing of his love. With his powers and those powers he shared with Ra, Pittacus gave the strength he could have used to defeat Setrakus Ra to preserve his love’s legacy and give it a second chance.

The last of it went into his lineage. The young boy with the blonde hair of the Lore ancestors and all telling, beautiful blue eyes won’t remember him but he will be able to feel him in his blood for ages to come.

Pittacus only wished for he not to be Number One.

Setrakus Ra and Pittacus Lore would live again, side by side in special union, but it would be in due time. When the young but strong willed Ella would cross with noble, impassioned John Smith and realize their inheritance together would the two rivals be finally allowed to settle in a life far away from mortality.

The children, through their own experiences with the soft guidance from their Cepans and whispering of love from Lorien in their veins came together on their own terms; they powered the essence of Lorien deep inside the Earth’s core to its max without knowing that it existed.

Number One was the first.

One learned about love long past her days alive and part of their world; when her memories were roughly extracted and pushed inside the mind of Adamus Sutekh, into a soldier whose code was never wired for cruelty that longed for a change in any form. She befriended him, showed him her light, and gave him all of her love. The love that had prevented her from disappearing from the world just yet. Adam opened up to her; he became who he was meant to be. He became her beacon of hope and was the first Mogadorian who learned to love like a Loric.

Adamus had a new job; he was to protect the rest of the Lorien’s love left on Earth. He locates Number Two off of the Mogadorian’s files and tries to spare her from her fate. Her Cepan was brutally executed and she was not to fall far behind. Adam wanted her to see him as what he became, not what his body made him out to be. He was her ally, he felt the connection between the pieces of One he became and the energy found only in those like the Garde.

When the light left Number Two’s eyes as Adam’s brother stabbed her through the throat with hatred and disgust, Adam felt her Loric energy as well as One’s now move within him. He did not inherit Two’s powers but he found he was still kindred with her.

There had to be a connection between all of them, a bond through the feeling only those of Lorien understand, and Adamus Sutekh was the first to realize this.

He would not fail again, he would find and save Number Three.

Ivan tried to ensure he would not succeed. Ivan tried to break him, to dim the light that One and Two had lit inside of him, but he could barely scratch the surface of something he couldn’t understand. Adam’s father, the highest general of the Mogadorian Empire who did the bidding of their Great Leader by the guidance of the Great Book, killed the young boy without consideration.

When One’s spirit finally drifted from him and joined the scores of fallen in the never ending matter around them, Adamus knew he was given a new purpose.

Adamus Sutekh got up; he would not be beaten by this madness. He walked off on his own power, inspired by love. He managed to meet and befriend Malcolm Goode, a human blessed enough by the Loric to keep their secrets safe at the cost of his own life, based on love. Malcolm loved his planet and his son like a Loric would that he abandoned his family completely to defend them from the things they could never know.

Where as Adam stood up and faced his destiny, Number Five had let himself remain knocked down for far too long.

He was taught nothing of a Loric’s love, nothing of his purpose on this mundane, green planet riddled with hate. He knew his Cepan died simply, he knew the name of the girl he was fond of and that she made him feel. He knew that Mogadore was interesting, not evil, and the world elders had rather send nine children to a distant planet then use their ultimate Legacies to save their race.

Five learned of Mogadore’s hate, spoon fed deceptions spun from deeper lies that explained Lorien as the greatest evil and Mogadore as a planet that wished to rise from the ashes of misfortune. Lorien was cruel, selfish; they condemned people unlike them and refused to share any part of their secrets with Mogadore or Earth. Pittacus Lore wanted other species to suffer; Pittacus Lore wanted his own people to suffer, why else would he send nine defenseless children to a planet in the distant galaxies to be chased by his enemies?

Number Five watched his few friends and lovers break apart before him; if the power of his people love was so strong, how come it wouldn’t save him from becoming a beast? Why was it that Adamus Sutekh, a Mogadorian, a son of a general who despised the Lorien rule most, was given a new purpose but he was destined to regress and deteriorate? How was Adamus part of the Elder’s plans and he was not?

Because Lorien was evil in its heart and Five was determined to exorcise the shadows from his code.

The Garde, his people only by species, are the enemy; Lorien’s ability to love was another way that the deceased group of slavers tried to seize absolute power over all others. The Great Book wouldn’t lie; Ethan wouldn’t lie.

Five didn’t need more persuasion on that fact when his enemy, his rival in every capacity, Number Nine, merely looked like evil. His jet black long hair and cold, darken eyes showed Five the true face of Lorien. Broken, weakness, shackled to ideology of love and promises. Nine showed Five how corrupt their love could be; he abandoned his Cepan for a human girl, he betrayed the Elder’s plan to remain in secret until he was called to action like the hero he was meant to be. He was Number Nine, after all, and if the way the numeric lined up meant anything else, he was to be the strongest of the original children.

Another rumor, another fable full of holes.

Five could make him weak. Five could break him easily with words, make him react on impulse instead of brainpower like the strategist prided himself on. He was a warrior with a knack for war and Five was always paces ahead. He could kill Nine and with his death begin to deconstruct the foolish belief in Lorien from the others.

He did not, however, count on Number Four stepping in the way he did. Four did not allow Nine to stay broken. Five learned of the power of Four’s love early on, when Nine resurfaced from his Cepan’s workshop with a foreign smile and healed hand. His anger now long forgotten, all for Number Four.

It wasn’t long until Five got the chance again to finish off the ultimate evil. Nine was wounded, pitiful against the base of a tree in the midst of a Florida swamp, in the successful trap. Six was out of commission while Seven stood in denial. But, when Five unseated his blade and charged forward, he was meet the soft tissue of Number Eight.

Number Eight threw away his life for one of his own.

His love for his fellow Garde, his family, was enough to die for. Chaste kisses and brushing fingers with a girl he grew to love unconditionally hasn’t been enough to keep Eight from giving his life for Nine, the boy next in line even long after the charm’s dissolve.

In that moment, blood spattered and crumpled into the dirt, Eight changed Five so simply. Eight made him believe that Lorien’s love could, in fact, be real.

Seven lashed out at him and broke him inside. She took out his eye and left him a pathetic shell of the proud Mogadorian soldier he once was. What was Five if not a warrior? What was Seven if she was no longer compassionate for the world that sought to hurt her, if she became too ruthless and too cold like the ice she forged at her touch? She was too different now; she had too been changed by the depth of Eight’s love for her and for all of them but to an extreme. But, was it by love or by Five’s crimes? In his death, the eighth boy and fourth victim had proved how worthy he was of the title of an Elder; if he had survived, Eight would have been the change that this world would need after a Mogadorian war. 

The Pittacus Lore they needed but did not deserve.

Five took the body of the former Garde. He studied the other boy’s last moments in his memories over and over until every part of the exchange made sense. Five shuddered with every splash of red, every time he remembered the cold, gut wrenching pain as Seven took out his eye with an icicle.

But in the brilliant, capable Number Ten, he was finally shown another way back. She rejected every piece of her biological code and stayed loyal to the Garde. She fought Setrakus Ra in a way that none of the other children could ever try. She was his family and she rejected every part of him and his empire.

Five wanted to be like her. He wanted to be brave like Ten. He wanted to help her become more than the granddaughter of Ra, to save her from his fate.

If Number Five was the metaphorical reincarnation of Setrakus Ra in their line of elder successors and Number Ten had been blessed with all of the love of Pittacus Lore, then it is because of her he could be given a second chance.

In his own special way as he always worked, Number Four had also given him a second chance. He continued to surprise Five, to intrigue and inspire Five. Even with a human girl at the touch of his heart and a planet of people to care for, Number Four could and would always find a way to save Nine from himself. With his hands shaking and caked in blood of humans and Loric alike, Four brought Nine back with mist in his eyes and wounds deep down. The broken look of relief on Four’s face when Nine awoke and grabbed hold his shirt would haunt Five forever.

Four, an embodiment like Ten and Eight of Lorien’s essence, loved the feral Nine with no remorse.

Five wanted to learn of love like Four had.

Even in the face of grief, when faced with the monster that almost took Nine from him for good, Four chose to heal Five. He sought to look after Five like one of their family, like Five had an untouched purpose and Four wanted to see that to the end.

Four’s love was bottomless and, like with Number Ten, Five had been blessed with it as well. Five fought besides Four and Ten, he opened himself to Seven’s wrath, and he willed himself to survive so he could become better. But if he were to die, he would die on the side of the family he did not deserve.

He would die at the hands of Setrakus Ra, at the hands of every little toy Ra used to charge himself with hatred, and weaken him with the power of Lorien’s love.

Five survives, but barely. As he promised himself while drowning in the ichor of Ra, he would become new anyway. He repeated those promises quietly as he crawled back to life and felt for the missing pieces of him that Setrakus dissolved into those acids, tells himself that he will change for the best to deserve them.

In the not so distant future, when Number Five covered in the physical scars of war and Adamus Sutekh emotionally confined by his family and the loss of his chimera in the arctic meet again, they learn a lot from each other’s stories. They are not different from one another and benefit from the other’s story. With one another, Adam and Five learn to no longer fear laughter and smiles.

Perhaps, in time, they could even become fond of each other.

The Loric were thought to love one for the span of their entire lives. Once a Loric met his or her match and fell inevitably in love, they could never feel the same way for another ever again. At least, so said the myth. A Loric’s capacity to love was bottomless in all aspects except romance because it’s the strongest and hardest to control; it is by love and emotive strength that a Garde draws their strongest legacies and to throw romantic love away on many would waste its potential.

Seven and Eight would have been an example of that, happily enthralled in one another forever. It was almost instantaneous; Seven defeated Eight in his water challenge and saved his chest from the bottom of a lagoon. She was kissed that day, passionately and filled to the brim with the colors of Number Eight.

Eight’s love for her and for their people was full and consuming. He held her with such care and compassion, even when he didn’t mean for every gesture to be romantic. Eight saved certain, careful smiles especially for her and lit her body ablaze when he took her hand or laughed at her jokes.

He was to be her everything, her one love for the rest of her life, for Seven let herself fall in love completely with. Until he was not and his life was cut short by Five.

Seven would avenge him. She was taken hold of by her anger and broken pieces, cooling her very body with every fragment. She learned to craft her cold into ice, both as a weapon and a state of being. She was frosted inside, cold to the touch. Five’s life at her fingertips would be her warmth and she uses these thoughts to convince herself so. She would heal eventually.

Seven spares Five. She watches him crumble for a little while, then lets him disappear from her subconscious. She would heal as he would, she whispered to herself. She would have that hole inside of her in the shape of the endless mass of Eight’s love but she would will herself to heal

She is invited to the cave that herself and the few others in her company met with Eight. Four shows her his work, what he accomplished in a year of solitude(though she learns Ten kept him company in the recent months). He shows his sign of healing, moving to live the life that his love would have wanted of him; living a secret life inside of his psych that no one else could know.

Seven kisses Four. It’s brash and desperate, a mess in hope that she has moved on and was ready to take in the fire inside of him. She breathes and wills herself to love Four, but both of them do not allow it. They can’t open up to each other the ways they already have with other lovers. Seven befriends Four in a way none of the other Garde could understand, through lost love and unrequited self promises. Seven learns secrets of Four not even Sarah Hart knew and she stops herself from trying to push for anything again. They couldn’t be together, they were too different in their alike stories.

Seven is a Loric who will love only one, the kind martyr in a fruitless war, forever.

It was because of Eight’s sacrifice and Seven’s need to pass him into a life without war that humanity was, at last, allowed Legacies. Humans could finally learn to love the way love was meant to be.

Sam Goode, one of those humans newly equipped with Legacies given to him by the love of Lorien itself hidden deep inside of the Earth, hoped to have that luck with Six.

The human Garde like Sam are learning their new feelings through their powers. They know that they are the change this world needs and that is why they were gifted. Ran grieves inside of herself; she puts herself into her work at the academy on the West Coast and never looks back at the shatters of her old life. Caleb works hard as well, side by side with his fellow students and with the decayed government in hopes of bringing power back to a once great nation. Daniela changes her world in her own place; she starts with her family at Brooklyn, reunited happily with her mother, and shares her love with her people. She does not forget Four and Sam, she does not forget Nine’s scattered body and Five’s bloody mess; she presses onward using their stories and scars as inspiration of what not to let happen. She tells of their heroism but save not for how useless the boys would have been without her, Seven, Ten, or especially Six.

Daniela speaks of Sarah Hart like she’d known her for a lifetime, with tears dappled on her strong composure and inspiration warming her core.

Nigel is different. He visits the mouth of the discarded cavern in the North where they had been led to find Four, carefully laying bouquets on the vigil place of the fallen; he visits the resting place of his close friends Bertrand and Fleur often. He is softly hurting, changed by the lack of words he hadn’t been able to share. It had been the three of them until they arrived and met Ran. It had been Bertrand and him in the beginning; he loved the other boy and lost him so easily that Nigel felt he couldn’t possibly deserve these powers bestowed to him. All of the stolen glances, the brush of his fingertips against Bertrand’s round cheek, the suppressed urges to push their mouths together and make a statement, were lost when Nigel took them into their unknowing deaths.

The power of Lorien’s love brought them together and banded them against all odds, intergalactic or not. Lorien’s love inspired Nigel to take his feelings for his fallen friends and became the fighter they’d be proud of. He would carry on the way Bertrand had deserved to, would want him to.

Like the other children, Sam felt the connection in the way his hands shook in her presence or how he stumbled through his words when he tried to describe just how he felt. His love for his family was limitless and his romance with Six was everything he had hoped for.

But Six, like Nigel, was different; there were people she never spoke of and names she even let herself weep for. Six was strong and brutal but she was not over the losses that sparked those changes in her. In the quiet of her own mind, she grieved her Cepan’s passing, the death of Henri, of Crayton, of Hector.

She grieved Sarah Hart most of all. She held responsibility for every piece of shrapnel that hit her soft human body, for not being able to protect her in the face of evil and letting her follow her into the pit. Sarah gave herself to the Garde’s cause even after only knowing her one love for a short time; she was human, she inherited no powers, but she radiated love like a true Loric and Six regrets every breath torn from her body as she tried to tell Four her last words.

Six will never admit her fears, but she cannot give herself to another person. She loves Sam, but she cannot let herself love him completely. For Seven, Ten, and Four, as others whom she loves, have parts of her heart that she doesn’t realize she’s given. Four and Six have a bond forged from history while Seven and Six have a bond lasting before they realized how much they meant to each other.

Six loves Sam, but Six cannot give her love to him.

A Loric loves forever, they say, after all. Katarina said she’d had many lovers and the myth had no ounce of truth but Six still feared loving another.

How it should be stated is how a Loric’s first love doesn’t have to be forever. It’s not the act of loving without worry but the act of loving someone else wholly.

When the lips of Number Four brushed those of Number Six, after he’d long to kiss the radiant Sarah Hart one last time, he knew the myth wasn’t true, at least not the way he was taught. He loved every piece of Sarah and felt something quietly stir for the mysterious Six but he wasn’t completely pulled into either of them. Perhaps it was because Sarah was human or because Six and Four have too much history between their bloodlines, but he failed to be committed to both.

To either.

Even as Six drifted away from Four and let herself fall using that small touch of her heart for Sam, who is as gifted in the ways of love as his father, the blonde Garde could not find a part of him truly wounded. Their kiss was in the moment, a reaction to the proof that another Loric did in fact walk on Earth, but it did not kindle. He didn’t know what happened to those feelings, nor did he know the depths of Henri’s teachings. He knew that he loved Sarah Hart and believed that she was his only. She would be with him always.

Until she wasn’t. Until she died on the front lines protecting the girl he almost left her for.

They were highschool sweethearts; Sarah was a special girl who gave up her life after she was broken by boy and regretted every second of it. She wanted to be the change in herself and she changed many other people in her wake. Radiant, stark, glorious. She was it all for more than just Four. He went to the ends of the earth to save her only to realize she was the one who would save him. The one who should help him want to be better but couldn’t.

Four was ruined. He hadn’t been knocked down and out of his life like Five or Adam, he wasn’t beaten and tortured like Nine, and he wasn’t afraid to fall and fail like Six or the human Garde. Like Seven, something inside of him changed only for the worst. Four left the meaningful part of his life behind him with the life of his ex lover.

But, he gave up that part him, the carefree, wild, and determined part, up for someone he hadn’t given himself over to completely. Four succumbed to his inner demons over a lover who wasn’t his forever and he was angry for it.

Four knew he hadn’t loved her the way she deserved and it wounded him deepest of all. His dishonesty haunted him. He loved Sarah, adored her everything and yet he couldn’t devote it all to her. He kissed Six recklessly while Sarah was left behind to wait for him; he tried to forget her when he thought she had betrayed them. He grew to care for all of the Garde and their allies as equals, like members of his family…until he hadn’t.

Seven kissed him like Six did, brief and emotional but not romantic.

They couldn’t.

Because Four gave himself to someone else. Seven knew, when she pulled away from his lips with a soft touch on his arm and knowing smile, that he fell hard for another without intention. His love hadn’t left planet, hadn’t left him with his feelings while she fell for another. His love wasn’t before him, bearing the same scars in different forms, nor lost to the world in a feeble attempt to redeem himself.

Number Nine.

He managed to seal that part of his mind off from Ten’s wandering telepathy but Seven didn’t need legacies to see it through his eyes, his posture, and his words.

Four held Nine at a distance and threw himself into loving Sarah Hart as much as he could. He saved Nine from his prison in West Virginia and ran with him to Chicago. It was for the good of the Garde that they become allies but in the start, it took Four too long to learn to tolerate Nine. The other Garde started out abusive and vile, threatening violence or using poisoned words as his solutions at every corner to answer half of Four’s comments. Nine made it clear how he did not want to like Four, that he wanted Four to obey his every move without much of a retort because that was what he knew: submission. But Four doesn’t quit; if he learned anything about himself from his time with Henri, it was how he prided himself on his stubbornness. With every backhanded comment an absentminded Nine gave him, Four would answer with his own challenge and stone face. He gritted his teeth and stood on the peak of their world they lived in together.

Nine started paying attention to him after their first and only physical fight on top of the Windy City. The other boy showed his colors when he lifted Four high above the busyness below but shook with fear. Nine wanted to drive fear into him, break him like the Mogs had tried with him, but it only taught Four so much more. He opened himself up and showed Four all of the colors he was inside with a few short moves and apologetic words. He’d reached up and scratched the back of his head, keeping his eyes on his feet when he mumbled those few sentences; Nine was a Garde who’d witnessed more horror in a year than Four saw his whole life but the prideful Garde quickly crumbled into shyness during his apology. Rubbing the back of his neck, stumbling over his words, he wanted Four to like him and care about him. He shares those hushed parts of himself and trusted Four with his fragility.

Four felt the beginning of those twinges on his heart even then. He remembers the heartbroken look Nine gave him when he sided with taking Six and Sarah with to search for Five. He remembers Nine’s failed attempts to get along with Five and Sam both as soon as he’d seen them come back together. He was especially rough towards Sam and whispered cold words about Sarah as he began to distract himself with Eight, Ella and Seven.

They were meant to be knit like a family but to Four, they slowly became divided into two groups, thanks to him and Nine.

All of the more reason they could never be together.

Against all odds, it was Five that kept them together. Five and his words that wore into Nine like no other. He provoked Nine, tested Nine’s temper, and forced him to pay the prices for it by breaking his hand and almost ending his life.

Four stood by Nine the entire time, carefully mending his bloody knuckles and ignoring the surprisingly softness of the skin or the urge to interlock the fingers. Even with Sarah part of the broken refuge in Chicago after the Mogadorians took Ella, Four could never snap his conscious, repeated worry of Nine.

Where had he been while Four and Adam led the others onward?

How was he? Was he bloodied, or broken? Could he bring himself back from the brink without Four to tend his wounds and ease his careless thoughts?

No amount of human loves or Garde kisses could ever distract his mind from returning back to Number Nine and Four hated himself for it. Their reunion was as sweet and honest as he could have imagined, as Nine asked him of their fights and cheered for Four’s dry answer. But the sound of Nine’s rough voice was all Four had needed to hear before he almost forget the rest of the world existed. When Nine led him away to the shelter, an arm tucked carefully around his shoulders, away from the others, it was just to talk in private. An invite for them to have a moment in their private world together again, like before. 

Foolish Four couldn’t stop staring at the shapes his lips made, longing for Nine to lean forward with knowing and finally dim the tension between them.

Just when he had Nine back in sight, at his side in the midst of war to reclaim Ella, Five pulled him back away again in a duel to the death. Nine fought with the ferocity of every fallen Garde, for it was now obvious to Four that his one love would always be the battlefield. Nine loved wars he didn’t rage and enemies he couldn’t find anything good in. Fights raged in his veins and thrilled him more than any one person could.

It was his first real heartbreak. Before Sarah Hart weakly breathed her last words over the satellite phone, Four had already been recovering from a broken relationship he never had.

He only hated himself more when her death came. He missed the tender embrace and sweet taste of Sarah’s kisses as much as he longed for any part of Nine to care for him back. He lost both.

So in return, Four broke himself. He was not going to let love change him anymore, let it define every piece of his existence. His plan worked instantly, sacrificing more and more of himself every time he was called into action. His body became a field of scars, physical and emotional, and only a few souls dared to cross the plains.

One soldier in particular made it across; he survived long enough throughout their war, throughout their downfall, and throughout the darkness that became of Number Four. He bared his ground and fought himself for words that he feared would fail him.

“You should know that… I’d prefer it if you made it out of this alive with me.”

With me.

Four failed to be at Nine’s side when he charged Ra with a ferocity only legends knew, when he lost his right arm entirely. He failed to be that solidarity, just like he had already failed in so many of his other tasks. Sarah Hart, the human Garde, and now the only being that held every part of his love.

Four almost died, slashed almost to ruin under the desperate claws of Setrakus the minute the Anubis crashed into the mountain and sentenced Ra to demise. He remembers lying on his back with his eyes peering up towards the stars, bloodied and weightless as every regret left him behind. He would join Sarah, Eight, and Henri in the collection of whispers beyond.

His one regret, the one that anchored him to life, was being dishonest. He regretted being dishonest to those who passed, dishonest to those surviving Garde, and especially dishonest to himself.

He had blacked out, a mix of ready and mournful of his death.

Four remembers a lock of blonde hair and the metallic taste of blood along someone’s soft lips pressed to his. One last bitter farewell, or a warm welcome to his new reality he didn’t deserve, from Sarah Hart.

He remembers wishing, for a desperate second of his fading conscious, that it had been a lock of familiar, thin black hair.

And hating himself for it.

Four escaped the hospital he awoke in, a haunted shadow of himself. He didn’t say goodbye nor leave on his own terms but not because he didn’t want to; he fled entirely because he couldn’t name them. He was trapped inside of his own mind games, a victim to every new monster his scatter made.

He ran from everything about himself, hoping the weight of his tired feet could outrun every ounce of those feelings after spending all of his time recovering under Nine’s careful sight line. Nine’s tired, scratchy voice pulled him, his throaty laugh whenever he had the energy to fake one surrounded him. He ran from his desires.

But, it did nothing.

For it was Nine who had convinced him to live and find a new purpose for himself; it was the sound of Nine’s voice and the texture of his scarred hands that reminded him that his life and love ran far deeper than firsts and broken pieces. Nine, with his bruised past and arrogant blood, sharing his weaknesses and asking for Four’s trust in return. Nine, lying cold and inspiring at his feet, waiting to be healed so he could continue his fight like he was meant to.

Nine had a power over Four that no one could dream of and he didn’t even realize it.

For Four loved Nine the same way Pittacus Lore had loved Setrakus Ra and it scared him; it scared him how much he was willing to risk for a boy who would never look his way the same. Even after a year departed from the new world and every bit of life in it, none of these feelings changed.

And he learned to be ok with that.

When Four was ready to return to the world, he visited Nine first. He wouldn’t waste forever gazing at him in the shadows of the academy when Nine was his light, or planning a thousand unsaid words meant just for him. He wouldn’t waste time when he fought and won for a bounce in his step.

He had to see him again, share a few innocent words with him before the other Garde’s absence could hurt him anymore. He looked on with such fondness as Nine instructed the next generation and helped them find themselves in Lorien’s love. He saw the person Nine was starting to become from a distance, saw all of the parts of Nine that may have moved on from him.

The way Nine pulled him into a long, tight hug felt like homecoming, giving the first real touch of true warmth Four felt in years. He fought the urge to bury himself in it and open up to the overpower in the moment, just pulled apart and offered his words.

He was on a mission, to deliver onto the other saviors of the planet his plan to maintain peace. Lorien’s love would keep Earth from accepting a similar fate and it was Four who would see to that promise.

As much as he wanted to close the gap between them and finally address the growing tension, Four’s mission called for his focus elsewhere. He couldn’t watch the syllables that Nine’s lips formed or admire the sneaky gleam his dark eyes made when he talked up his work and his own healing. He had to quell every urge to take his hand or tuck back the loose strands of his far too long hair. He had to stay the same Four that left a year ago, the one face that every human associated with heroism, the one who was still prying the grief from his core. If at least, for now.

For now, he kept echoing in the back of his mind. Those two words were what hope was made from and Four’s entire life was built on quiet wishes.

Number Four was ready to admit that he was and always would be in love with Number Nine but that he couldn’t act on it.

The rational side of his mind, the part that kept telling him another romance could ruin him and the Garde’s progress on Earth, reminded him he spent too much time in this moment. It mentally kicked him for every extra second he reconsidered staying here with Nine instead. Four managed to make his excuses, overcome with every new sensation he felt, and left to meet with the other Garde. He had a mission to attend to, no matter how aware he was of the way his his skin quickly turned cold again.

How just leaving tasted like a mix of bitter and sour that he felt in his bones, and made him shudder as he flew from place to place. His very being felt revived with that fleeting visit with Nine, like Four had finally found the real understanding of peace in him.

He may have accepted his feelings but he didn’t realize how badly he hadn’t wanted their talk to end. How much he couldn’t bare spending even more time away from Nine.

Four went back, with every ounce of courage it took to defeat Setrakus Ra and win an intergalactic war, to that lone academy with one last mission. Finally, he would do something for himself.

He detested the look of surprise on Nine’s face when he approached him for the second time in almost a year. He didn’t want to be reminded of how much of a coward he once was.

I came back for you. He’d let the words he was comfortable with saying tumble from his mouth, let the tone in his voice say everything else.

Beat. It was the longest moment of Four’s life, clenching his fists and willing himself not to run.

I hoped you would.

If this was what happiness truly felt like, then this day was the first that Four felt alive. Every part of him crumbled into soft relief. When they embraced for the second time, Four opened up and wasn’t cutting closing again.

He buried himself in Nine, resting his head into his shoulder and holding on like the rest of the world didn’t exist around them. Nine’s arm held him close, his hand brushed the side of his face as it touched every little scar that Four knew was there. His body and mind were full of marks but they were reminders, not shames. Nine knew that.

Four didn’t know who moved first. He shifted at the same time as Nine’s hold on his form loosened. All he knew was that he had the feeling of Nine’s fingertips nestled into his hair, lips against his own, and a raging fire like he’d never controlled kindling somewhere deep in him.

He kissed Nine with heat and fight while the other boy was hesitant and passionate; they were complimentary of one another, at opposite ends of themselves as long as it meant it was Nine and Four ended up together like this.

They pushed, fighting for this long awaited moment to last forever. Nine was the one who broke the kiss, strengthening his hold over Four’s shoulders and kissing his forehead. Nine grounded them back and reminded Four that this was, in fact, real.

It took Four long enough to look up and meet Nine’s eyes. It took enough for him to smile in return, curling his fingers around Nine’s sides and rest his forehead against the other boy’s chin while Nine’s hand lowered softly to his waist.

It had been ages since he last truly smiled, feeling the pure joy as it soared through every part of his body. He was revived, like Earth had been with the sacrifices and frustrated tears of many.

Love like Lorien’s was strong enough to end wars, to bind together alike people in joy and purity. The age old myth states that a Loric cannot love another person once they fall for the first time, but it isn’t until a Loric gives themselves wholly to another that those words are true. Even the greats are bound by these quiet rules and haunted by the consequences.

Whereas the strength of Loric love framed the ill doomed fates of Pittacus Lore and Setrakus Ra many years before, it become the sign of hope for the rest of the world in Number Nine and in Number Four.

[officialpittacuslore]

22 + stohn (if you want to)

stohn + two miserable people meeting at a wedding auNote: This is an “Everyone is Alive including Cepans” au so I could write a cute Devedor wedding opener, enjoy!----

In the warm lights stood the couple of honor. It was Lorien’s first wedding since the invasion, since the massacre.

Since the Garde children finally came home.

The surprising amount of Loric that survived hid out on the ruins of an abandoned planet, completely forgotten for the lone ship carrying Lorien’s future.

Devektra had fought and she had survived. Now, after so many years, she could complete her union to the man that reignited the hope for her people in her.

She was beautiful in her white folds of a dress, with her platinum hair halfway pinned in a delicate bun on the back of her head. She sway, leaning her head on the shoulder of her newly named husband as they danced to their slow song. It wasn’t one of her own songs, that had surprised everyone in attendance. No, the team chose a song from an old artist from two hundred years prior, before lights and technicians shaped the way the people of Lorien listened to music.

The wedding itself was human inspired, from the tuxedos and wedding gowns to the way the banquet and celebratory dance was held. She liked it that way; he wanted it that way. He had relished in the lifestyle of the rich human people; he spoke of his tower suite, his collection of clothing.

He had told her the truth, of how he tried to forget her. How he imagined her body in the rubble of their prized cities, how there was no chance he would survive his fight on Earth. His alcohol abuse.

She forgave him. She was, after all, a star herself.

They were finally reunited after the war, after the children had revived the planet with the slaying of Setrakus Ra. The cities were still in construction and the leadership was still in ruins. But even in the smolder of a once great civilization, there had to be some spark of joy.

They were happy. Smitten. Together.

It was Devektra and Sandor. In union at last.

Stanley wanted to vomit. He wasn’t one for sappy, he wasn’t one for anything remotely romantic or sugar coated. His life had been brittle, proven by the endless scars across his skin. He’d fought wars from a young age, cracked every pore on his skin, and came out victorious every time.

He lost his innocence at a young age when he watched Sandor, the man of honor, be tortured for any scrap of information he had left.

He wasn’t in the mindset for a wedding. He wasn’t in the mood for something so cliche and sweet when their world had to soon be rebuilt.

There was so much work to be done.

“Is this seat taken,” a bored voice asked him as the rest of the bridal party made its way to the dance floor. Stanley turned his gaze from his self pitying stare to meet blue eyes and blonde hair.

Number Four. Or, as he preferred recently, John Smith.

Stanley almost mistook him for his grandfather, the elder who sacrificed his life to defeat Setrakus Ra and prevent the human world’s ultimate demise. To save the new world elders from certain death.

John looked as done and dreary as Stanley felt. He ached at the little wonder of why. Heroism was in his blood, fame was in his features. He was tall and handsome, with the way his blonde hair curled with sweat around his forehead and how his blue eyes lit and flashed with every little feeling his mustered. He had the charm and look that brought in human girls for miles; he clearly never noticed the few boys that were also lost.

Stanley was one of those. He found John Smith incredibly handsome.

Stanley found him so much more than something to lose your eyes in. After Maddy, it was hard.

After someone fell for John, he wasn’t so sure they could recover. He hasn’t reached that plateau yet. Right now, he was the quiet admirer. He liked his features, he liked the way John had taken the war by force. How he wasn’t scared to feel. He liked what he knew about John Smith, the calm and ambitious Garde with legacies that harnessed the power of fire.

But all he knew was myths. The Cepan never let the other Garde get too close to the others, the children found ways around the Cepan rules.

Stanley never let himself meet John Smith completely. They knew each other’s numbers. They knew of the other’s skill, fought alongside each other. Stanley kept his numerical bonds with Eight and Ten the limits of his friendships; John had done with same with Five while keeping his family’s friendship with Six alive. Stanley wondered if John thought the same as him, that he didn’t dare risk having anymore friends. Friends could die.

Lovers could die.

“I don’t care, take it.”

“It’s just nice to see someone else hate happiness too,” Four remarked as he took the seat.

“I don’t hate happiness ,” Stanley hissed quietly. John chuckled, keeping his tired eyes on the dancers. “I just hate weddings. And love. And romance.”

“Because you can’t get any?”

Stanley glared at John. He was lippy. This was a first. Not a lot of people talked back to him.

“Because that’s my Cepan out there. I’m only here because it’s for him. I also just… hate flowers.” Anything to end this conversation.

“Wow. Flowers are Number Nine’s only weakness. Explains a lot,” John commented, finally turning his attention on Stanley. His eyes were laughing. So much for quiet.

“Fuck you, Four,” he growled to himself, looking back to Sandor. His Cepan was twirling like nothing else mattered, Devektra laughing along with his stunt. Sandor was the shy nerd back in Lorien’s golden days, now here he was showing off his stunts for the remainder of their people.

“Some people want to,” he replied, almost like he practiced the response.

“Then go find someone who would.”

Beat.

“It’s not the same,” John shrugged. Stanley stole a glance at him. His face once again bared a tired feeling. Maybe even a little defeated. He looked older than he was, seventeen years and counting. He risked edging a thousand with his ripe heritage but even now, he looked dated.

“Because they’re not human?” He knew the risk of asking that but he still persisted. He didn’t know John and John didn’t know him. They knew of each other. Asking the pointed questions he’d only heard whispers of from the others was the only way he could get to know him.

“You’re one to talk,” John countered, meeting his eye with a narrowed expression. He was guarded now. He also proved that he knew more than he let on too. “I mean, it’s not the same to be around someone who doesn’t feel the same.”

“We’ll all a little battered, so what,” Stanley remarked.

John let out a soft sigh.

“I wasn’t sure I was going to like you,” John murmured and turned his eyes off of Stanley back onto the floor. Many of the other wedding goers had run out into the music, pulling their friends or partners in tow. Stanley

His quiet answer took Stanley back. The older boy took a breath.

“What does that mean?”

“You know,” John mumbled again. “I’ve heard of you. I’ve seen you and what our fight for life did to you… as it had to me. You get it so I came over to talk to you because if anyone understood what it feels like, you would, Stanley. I wasn’t sure you’d actually be… worth talking to. We’re both guarded, protective of ourselves. ”

The last word would have stung if Stanley did not, in fact, understand the horrors. Even if it wasn’t the same, where John was forced to leave behind many people he cared for while Stanley watched the girl he cared for give her life for him, it was a pain no little ten seconds of someone else’s glorified happiness could try to fix.

“How did it feel,” John asked suddenly.

“To what?”

“To have someone to love you back.”

Oh.

“Well…” he started slowly. After months of her death, months of fighting, of blood, he felt the words easily fall from his mouth. John would understand, he was certain. “When it happens… it’s the best feeling in the world,” Stanley would have never let the soft smile cross his face if he hadn’t let himself heal that little bit. The smile lasts a mere second as soon as he remembers. He remembers holding her body, being told to flee. The smoke had gagged him, the explosions threatened to deafen him. He remembers the week of nightmares that followed; he remembers ripping the head off of the next Mog to cross his path without remorse.

Sandor had been his grief counselor for the next two years they had waited to reunite with the Garde and their Cepans. Eight became his closest friend shortly after that but his intimate relationship with Marina, Number Seven, made it hard to rely on him. He slowly realized he couldn’t try and rely on anyone else; Sandor had been seriously injured while Eight still bears the scars of the knife that almost carved his heart out.

Stanley’s own scar had been emotional.

“A lot of Loric thought I was going to being Sarah with me,” John grinned to himself. “What’s so wrong with a boy and a girl being friends? I liked her once but… she didn’t like me that way. We respected each other, cared for each other. I can’t fault her for that and I can’t fault myself for being disappointed by that either.”

Rumors. The human relationships, the human distractions, all rumors made by the other Garde or loric. John Smith hadn’t experienced mutual love.

“People died for us, Nine,” John murmured, closing his eyes. He called him Nine, just Nine. No one did anymore. He preferred it but in respect for the humans, the other Garde voted against him to keep their human names. “I’m not more ready than you are.”

“I’m not asking for someone-”

“I’m not telling you what to do. I’m just telling you that you’re not alone.”

Stanley looked down at his hands.

“Our scars are similar, but they aren’t the same. You can’t compare your crush-”

“Compare? You’re so stupid,” John cut him off. “Want to see my scars? They’re pretty ugly. Or hear the names of everyone I left behind? We can compare if you want, it won’t change that we both bare them.”

Stanley turned back to John as the blonde raised a hand to his throat, running his fingertips along the hollow of his neck. He caught sight of the thin purple line that ran across it and felt his stomach clench. His blue eyes fogged slightly and his lips are pursed together in a deep frown.

He didn’t like the look on his friend. His new friend. Because someone found him and sat with him but didn’t want to lecture him about what he should do next. Someone who saw his scars and just wanted to remind him that there are other people who are broken that could use his experience.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry, it’s brought us here.”

Stanley blinked and felt the smile ghost his lips.

He thinks, sitting next to the open and similarly scarred by their past, that he could be ready to move on soon. He liked John enough to start something small. Friendship, someone besides Eight to unload all of his angst onto. Someone who opened up to him first.

Stanley was ready to take a risk.

“Actually… do you want to get out of here for a while? I think we could use some air.”

John smiled softly.

“Actually, I’d love that.”

Beat. It was the bouquet toss; several female members of the bridal party and wedding goers stormed the dance floor as Devektra took the stage and used her legacies to add sparkle and light to the flashing. She turned her back, flourishing the folds of her dress in a circle around her as she spun and posed with the flowers.

“Now’s a good time to flee,” Stanley said, standing up and offering his hand to John. John raised a curious brow before smiling and taking it. His skin was warm and far softer than he thought. He expected calluses and ruin permanently cracked into his palms but they were kind. He kept the hold on his hand as they walked towards the exit, pulling John along as the crowd’s energy grew incohesive.

John chuckled to himself.

“I thought about catching the bouquet to scare you.”

Stanley rolled his eyes but he kept his grin.

“Thanks for thinking about me, dick.”

[officialpittacuslore]

I made a thing and I’m not sure how I feel about it; I wrote a John/Five fic and here it is, have fun:

He hates the government. Despises each and every operative that stepped a foot near his cell. His new favorite activity was coming up with cruel and unusual ways to punish the soldiers who made a mockery of him.

He was a Garde, an intergalactic superpower. He should be respected, not bound by a straight jacket. He wasn’t a damn psychopath, just ‘confused’ like some of the allies like to put it.

He touched the scars on his wrist, gently brushing the thin lines that ran up his arms with his fingertips. Fabric burn. Burns from the constriction of the straight jacket that would never fully heal on their own. A permanent reminder that he was always going to be someone else’s enemy, even if he changed his ways.

No one wants me here but I stay anyway, Number Five thought, smacking the back of his head against the wall of his newest room. It was a much needed upgrade, with blankets and pillows that actually blocked out the air conditioning of the government facility and a lamp with working bulbs. It still locked from the outside, however; even though the walls were paper thin and a mere punch from him stood between Five and the cool night sky, his pride on that fact alone sometimes stopped him.

He chose his side. What more did they want from him?

The dead eyes came back to him. They kept him here. He wanted to help, felt compelled to.

He had a more secret mission. A special one.

While the rest of the Garde were too weak to try, Five knew that a portion of his strengths were in his bite.

Those eyes.

Five had groaned right before, he remembers the uncomfortable puff of white his breath had made. He remembers wishing he could slap his face or pinch the skin between his eyes in frustration when the tight, gray cut into his wrists and pulled on his shoulder blades. He was stuck with thrashing or shouting like the other crazies to let out his nervous energy.

He remembers thinking he chose. Five liked to dwell on that, apparently. He had picked his side, why wouldn’t anyone see that?

His story wasn’t unknown anymore, it felt like Number Five’s tale of woes was now everyone’s lunchtime gossip, his life reduced to harsh whispers and narrow-eyed glares. He was there, he knew the story well enough without the rumors. His Cepan croaked when he needed the old man’s teachings the most and the first man to help him after led him down a darker path somewhere else, somewhere far away. The Mog side.

Under Ra, the Loric were the enemy. Naturally. Once upon a time, the Loric ruined the Mog and now Mogadore was exacting its much needed revenge.

Ella helped him see otherwise.

John was the final push.

Those stupid eyes.

He’d been beaten, he’d been broken. He was defeated, held down in a rotting, frigid holding cell by the Garde he turned back around to save from the monster in New York.

Just for you dicks.

Five wasn’t going to let them break him any farther.

After all, Eight’s blood was on his hands.

For Eight, and for my people. No one else.

Or, so he thought.

For Four.

Six and Marina once mentioned a bond, how they were connected even before they met because their numbers in the kill sequence came so close together. Nine and Eight had it, so strong that Right still threw his life on the line, in front of the girl he loved, to save the Garde in line behind him.

Five and Four never had it starting out; Five blamed himself. He shut himself out from the rest of the Garde, picked fights with Nine and Six too much. It started to change; John sought him out to retrieve Nine but ended up saving his life anyway.

He didn’t know he’d come to feel this way about the other boy.

Oddly enough, he remembers the rumbling laughter from the opposite end of the long hall. His days of Mogadorian abuse trained him to recognize the voice from every bit it vibrated the air around his ears. Nine. He remembers the throaty sound, the doubt that coated his words soon after, and the musty mess of footsteps that Five soon lost count of as they grew closer. He didn’t know how many people were coming for him, he just knew to prepare for the shame that would come with Nine. When his biggest eyesore walked in, flanked by the one who ordered for the close monitoring, Five was less than excited.

But when he saw what had become of John, he was less detested but more curious.

Quite the bags under his eyes all of a sudden. He used to be more good looking.

Not only was his ally’s face drained of its joyful pink color but his hands were cracked, loosely dappled with specks dried blood. The drops decorated the remains of his jacket’s sleeves, telling Five all he needed to know, that those droplets weren’t John’s. He was still covered in the wear from his last biggest mission.

He remembers the cold expression, how John’s lips had been frozen in a nearly permanent frown. His blue eyes, once bright and blazing with hope that could move even the most lost of causes, were dull. Dull.

Even his signature, the blue eyes, lost their color. Almost dead.

Those eyes.

Five remembers being taken back. He remembers his stomach cramping at the mere sight him. He’d never seen Four look so defeated.

The image of Number Four slumped at the edge of his cell as he commanded Five to teach him how to fly replays in his head, over and over.

He’s such a mess.

It hurt to see him this way. It hurt that the last time Five saw Four, it was in such a shaken state. Like the life had been torn from him and replaced with half the effort.

What is wrong with me.

Four hadn’t left his thoughts; Number Four tried to accept him, he bargained with him for Nine’s life multiple times. Four ordered he be held instead of tortured, but that had been the only plus.

Perhaps he was a touch kind because they were both outsiders now. Shells of themselves. Was Four as in touch to realize that of himself though, that part of his very self died with Sarah Hart?

Five waited in his room patiently, rubbing the scarred skin on his arms over and over. He issued a fake complaint about his bed, anything to get an officials attention to relay a message to the communications wars where Sutekh and Four recently camped out the most. Five wasn’t a genius but he knew that Adamus Sutekh intercepted wavelengths and listened to Mog radio frequency. He was hell bent on redeeming himself, redeeming his worth over his gifts, that he hadn’t resurfaced from the dark crevice in days. He would rejoin with answers; work ethic was what Five found most admirable about Adam.

Four, in the meanwhile, was collecting as many powers as he could. Five was still sore from his brawl with Four midair, the way the straight jacket melted off of his body when his Externa took to and mimicked the protective Lumen field that surrounded the blonde boy’s body. Ximic made his comrade hungry, eager to grow beyond every single one of his peers.

The others feared the new Four. Nine challenged him, of course he had.

Five told himself he wasn’t afraid. That he was still curious, eager. But his left hand shook quietly at his side.

Worried.

Four’s dead eyes stared at him from his thoughts. To Five, he wasn’t John Smith anymore.

I’ll help you.

His door creaked open. Five’s eyes snapped up, meeting the light of the hallway. He braced for impact.

“You wanted to see me?” The void emotionless voice opened with. Four’s face followed as the other Garde slowly entered Five’s personal space, closing the door behind him with a gentle push of his telekinesis.

“Uh, yeah, I wanted to… talk,” Five mumbled, forcing himself to meet Four’s eyes. The sparkle was still gone, extinguished maybe forever.

Not if I have something to say about it.

Four had wanted him there, back in the safe house in Chicago when the world seemed out to harm him. Four wanted him here, under the careful eye of the soldiers and other Garde to make sure his choice was the right one. To make sure Five chose them.

I want you here.

He didn’t know what started to make him compelled him to care about Number Four. To watch the way his dirty blonde hair rested and curled on his brow, to miss the delicate blue swirls of color with his every thought or feeling. He missed the way his face pinched in thought or frustration. He missed the smile that was soft and telling, the brush of care or venom that was always genuine. Four was a warrior, there was no doubt in the part of him that craved victory. But, what had made him truly deadly was his kindness. Five hadn’t realized he fell as hard for Four as he had.

“I hope it’s some kind of clue or secret to killing Ra, otherwise I’m wasting my time,” Four hissed. Five held back his wince. He had to remember who he was facing. Four, not John. He breathed heavily.

“Yeah, I have a tip for you,” Five started slowly, willing his short panic attack away. He dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands. He wished he had one of his balls for back up. If he had one just to roll between his fingers and divert his nerves.

John’s eyes didn’t flicker, just narrowed.

“Well?”

“That you’ll never put a dent in him with that attitude,” Five drawled, letting the first crossed thought from his mind slip. He cursed internally when John’s eyes only darkened.

“You’re wasting my time.”

“And you’re wasting everyone else’s.”

The words fell out of Five’s mouth before he could shut his real thoughts in. He braced for an assault.

John’s eyes narrowed until the dark blue was almost lost in the sliver shape. Like he wanted to shut his eyes on Five like he’s shut himself away from everyone else.

“What do you mean by that? We’re preparing.”

“What do you think, Four? You don’t really care what anyone has to say as long as it’s about him. You flinch whenever anyone says the sound ‘Ra.’”

“We were sent here to-”

“To keep the race alive and kill Ra in the process. We’re the last of our kind, the nine lone kids that were sent to keep some galactic super race alive, not bent apart on suicide missions.”

“I seem to remember you killing one of those nine,” John’s voice almost froze him.

Beat.

He paused for a second. He thought of where his next words should take him.

Five would try to heal himself too.

“You know what,” Five started. He feels his body stop shaking as he gives in to himself, to his feelings. His dark anxieties that ate away every piece of him were finally quiet. “I know I did. And I’m living that nightmare for the rest of my fucking life.

He wanted to wait for John to cut him off, digging his fingernails deeper into his palm until he was sure they would be bleeding by the end.

“And it’s going to be no different for you, John Smith.”

John’s eyes flashed with anger. He opened his mouth to argue, to spit something but Five interjected immediately.

“You’re listening to me, god dammit.” Five dashed forward and grabbed the front of John’s clothing.

“Why should I, it hasn’t done a lot for us in the past,” John snarled back, snatching Five’s wrist. His skin burned, like he was close to activating Lumen to defend himself.

He thought Five was going to hurt him. Or worse.

“Really,” Five frowned, looking between the hand on his arm and John’s eyes. “Is that necessary?”

John didn’t respond, he kept his eyes trained on Five, ready for any possible movement that would warrant his defense.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“How about the part where you want to melt my skin off.”

John blinked, raising a cautious eyebrow. He seemed genuinely confused.

“Melt your…?”

Five lifted a hand and rested it on John’s before he was aware of himself. It felt scalding warm, a heat is sudden that Five almost ripped his hand from the skin. Even on the back of the hand.

His Lumen activates with his emotions.

Five always suspected how John’s personality tied in so closely with legacies. Emotions helped the Garde learn and control powers, to take the strength of a hard pain of loss and make it something worth while. To make the Garde special, outlasting.

With his constant hunger, John’s entire body must be burning.

“You’re hot,” Five added flatly, hoping John didn’t respond the way he thought. He moved his eyes from John’s hand back to the blonde boy’s face and flinched. His eyes reflected concern as they stared down at his own hands. John slowly lifted his palm from Five’s skin, revealing a burn mark in the shape of a hand print.

Oh.

“Four,” he started. If this was how John’s legacies were reacting to his change, he couldn’t be too kind with his words here. “You are so obsessed with vengeance that you have closed out every person on this damned planet that could have helped make it feel better. There’s nothing left except anger. You’ve burned every bridge you had to keep your one, helpless romance alive. Now everything’s in the name of her. I get it and all, but she didn’t start this war and she can’t end it either. Shit Four, you practically beat your prisoner for his legacies, your little lab rat that’s all out of luck as it is.” He let the other Garde go, keeping John at an arm’s length with a hand fastened on his arm. “Fuck, lucky is right, at least I knew your intention or I’d have filed a fat complaint.”

He was quiet after. Almost still, like Five’s words had taken the last stand from his blood. His eyes had a soft glow to them as they dropped to the floor, giving his royal blue color the first glance of life since he got the call.

“You don’t get it,” John’s voice fell soft. “No one here gets it.”

“You’re wrong. I’ve hurt and killed a lot, John. I think I can get it,” he murmured back. He bit back adding in Nine or Marina and their heavy losses. Marina hasn’t found him since their first fight John had to break up and Five feared for when she did confront him.

For now, Five would have to be her.

John’s eyes lifted and met Five’s. He decided to go on.

“It feels like shit. We can’t just… get over ourselves like nothing happened, I know and so does everyone else John. No one wants you to forget her, we just… want to help you.”

He couldn’t believe he was being this soft.

John closed his eyes tight, his mouth pursing with the effort to mask his feelings. When he let out a deep breath, they were close enough that Five felt all of the hot air hit his face.

He rested his forehead against Five’s and it nearly paralyzed him. He forced himself to breathe normal as a blush started to gather.

“But we can acknowledge that it hurts the most and that… pain isn’t all that matters,” Five added softly.

“It feels like does,” John’s voice cracked softly. He kept his eyes squeezed shut.

“If pain mattered,” Five started, pausing to find the right words. This was the first touch of vulnerability John was showing anyone in days. Maybe years to come. He remembered Emma and her family. Ethan. Kelly Sutekh. His Cepan.

“Then, I would still be a Mog soldier. Or maybe I would have never sought out anyone to heal me after my Cepan passed. Hell. I’d still be trying to hurt Nine to make myself feel better.”

Pain could matter, but Five took his pain to make himself better. For Eight.

For Four.

“I’m sorry for hurting you.”

Five held back his breath, heat gathering further in his face. He didn’t expect those words from John. “Oh, um, it’s cool, we’re all sort of-”

“No. It’s not ok.” John lifted his head up and met his eyes. The blue color was there, deep and swaying as it used to be. His lips were buckled in a deep frown, like he wanted to add something else. Five couldn’t help but notice how close their faces were, how close his lips were.

“Now, earlier, all the time. It shouldn’t happen all the time.” John laid a delicate hand on the burn mark and activated his healing legacy. The cool tingle was refreshing as it soaked into Five’s skin and reversed the effects of the Lumen.

“You treated me no differently when we fought and you’re treating me the same now. Shit, you didn’t even have to say or do anything for me and you’re still here yelling at me and thinking about me but I’ve been just been an asshole. I’m not broken, I’m not ruined, I’m just… trying to heal.”

“I, um,” Five hesitated, hoping the spark he lit in himself hadn’t died. He unwound a lot. He didn’t want to say the wrong thing but he didn’t want to say nothing at all. John’s eyes looked up but he didn’t speak.

Four and Five didn’t have the connection to make words sound aimless and true. Now was the time to change that.

“I’m always here, I mean, if you need me.”

“I do.”

Five willed himself to still.

“You were right. It doesn’t matter most, what matter is what it makes you do. There are things I’ve done that I can’t take back right now, there are people I can’t help right now or anymore. I pushed myself outside and built a wall so high no one could find me instead of letting myself… feel the pain and healing myself. And now I can’t let myself heal, everything is happening too close together.”

Pause.

“But you still looked for me.” John stood up from his job, meeting Five eye level again. “I thought everyone had stopped looking.”

Five hated how the soft words made his body shake the slightest. From warmth and uncomfort. He’s better than he thinks. Five wanted to speak up, wanted to tell him what he thought or how wrong Four was but when John’s thumb brushed his cheek, he lost all of his planned words.

“Four-”

“Is it better?”

“My arm’s fine-”

“No, my… hand.”

Five lifted his hand to touch it, resting it fully against his cheek.

“Feels good to me.”

Beat.

“That came out weird,” Five mumbled but John smiled. It was quiet, like the ghost of one, but a smile nonetheless.

Maybe it was their connection.

John leaned in and pressed a long, light kiss on Five’s lips. It stilled him, crashing every thought he had together into one. By the time he realized it happened, John had pulled away and turned around to leave.

“Thank you, Five.”

“Um. I, uh I should thank you,” Five stumbled through his words. He just hoped he didn’t make a joke about the loss. “My, uh, public speaking is getting better.”

He could have sworn he may have just heard a soft laugh from Number Four.