#Metro Labyrinth

[gorore4]

manga of the day 09/11/2024 Metro Labyrinth - When I Woke Up, I Had the Strongest Job, so I Teamed Up With a Chipmunk and Wandered the New World

good non-isekai fantasy manga in which one guy simply wakes up ina dungeon, has a mascot chara and the developments are interesting enough with a good setting already established the fan tl keeps the mascot's dialog quiirk by changing it, makes for a pretty good localization that doesn't take away any charm from the original one thing worth noting is that after a certain chapter the setup changes to something different and it does feel a bit weird but it makes it up with world building

[opal-owl-flight]

Agents agents agents + a couple of ocs! I remembered that my cephalopods come in many patterns so I decided to explore that!

Notes abt patterns below-

Cap3: has many scars, most have healed. Though some of the sanitation effects remain around their wrists and hands, as well as their tentacles... their left eye is almost blind.

Agent4: Naturally glittery skin and tentacles, kind of accents the metallic patterns acquired from getting partially washed out by Order. Those arent metal fingers, those are patterns!

Additional design note -- she used to be way more sparkly, but the loss of her faith in herself made her colors fade. Easier for Order to wash her out then, no?

Neo3: fucking beaste. Kept trying to eat falling into the fuzzy ooze during her mission and now has a part of it in her dna. Sometimes gets more mammalian features (fur, hair, claws...on one occasion she sprouted a tail!)

Agent8: Same as the first design I made, now with added jelleton inspired patterns due to Side Order! Maybe bc she destroyed a bunch of em wkdndk

The rings have been with her awhile, she had decided to show em off once she got out of the Deep Sea Metro.

Agent5: Patterns reflect his time in the labyrinth -- rain, the sea, the rings reminiscent of the foam kicked up by changing tides.

Agent6: ...this is just Mags! His hair shimmers like crow feathers dipped in gold. His ink is actually yellow, but he really doesnt like his hair being that shade -- so he changes it manually to reflect his preferences. His magic circles are the one set of tattoos he allows to show through in this inkling disguise.

His stripe pattern is referencing his patterns in his original form! He looks like hes always wreathed in golden flame.

(His size meanwhile befits his fighting style -- dual wielding splatana stampers)

The last two are Croissant and Melon, the first owned by @pastille-pain!

Melon: her ink is naturally pale. The powdery patterns are reminiscent of snowfall and moonlight simply bc I like that aijdje. Theyre pearlescent/opalescent, shimmering as she moves. When she gets emotional, she starts to glow with colored spots!

[mothhue]

I remembered my question.

How exactly does Subcon Well… work? It’s a well. Wells are for drawing water. But water is everywhere. So what purpose does the well serve? Why do they even have it?

〜 Anon of Hearts ♥︎

Ah, very good question! In ahuw, the subcon well is less of a well, and more of an entrance to a series of old, abandoned underground tunnels.

They probably used to be mines of some sort, but are now a labyrinth of confusing entrances and caverns that lead nowhere. It's probably not haunted... probably. Maybe. (Additional info under cut)

-Some tunnels can lead you to some forgotten treasures, and some may lead to a certain metro! The cats tried expanding the metro lines into subcon at one point, but the project was quickly cancelled when they managed to run into the old caverns and they started to face "this place is pecking haunted" problems.

-Instead of sending you down there to clean it up, snatcher's job for you is to find a way to block it off for good. (The occasional wandering lost metro cat or haunted statue coming out of there has annoyed him long enough)

-the way to win the level is to reach a big boulder deep down in the tunnels, and block the entrance off with that. You’ll have to parkour your way back up though, and with a giant rock. (good thing you're underwater and don't have to worry about balancing it well, time to put that new hookshot badge to use!) Sisyphus hardcore simulator good luck

-Snatcher gets surprised because he wasn't expecting you to actually find a way to block it, he's also slightly disappointed that you came back alive in one piece.

-the entrance to the mines are bigger than the picture I accidentally drew it too small 😔

[magical-boy-tsukasa-official]

[An doesn’t think she’s ran faster in her life. She enters the metro station with Rui behind her, freezing as she sees the entrance to the labyrinth. She steels herself, knowing they don’t have time to hesitate. She pushes forward, nearly falling over herself when she’s inside the labyrinth. it’s an incredibly realistic, almost peaceful recreation of the sky, as if they’re all floating. The only thing that breaks the illusion is the various bird-like familiars floating around as well. She shakes her head, powering forward until she spots Tsukasa.]

tsukasa…! stop!

- @magical-girl-an-official

[Tsukasa had his soul gem out, staring intently at it. His soul gem is very clouded, practically almost dark. And he doesn't intend to do anything about it. He's just waiting for it to turn into a grief seed. His plan comes to a halt, however, when he he hears a voice.]

...!

[Tsukasa quick to back away, holding his soul gem close.]

Stay back! I don't want you see this, please! Save yourselves!

@magical-boy-rui-official

[black-arcana]

WITHIN TEMPTATION's SHARON DEN ADEL Guests On 'Labyrinth' Single From Ukraine's BLIND8

Ukrainian band BLIND8 has released a new song, "Labyrinth", featuring Sharon Den Adel of Dutch symphonic metallers WITHIN TEMPTATION.

This collaboration is a landmark moment for BLIND8, which formed just before the Russian invasion of Ukraine and has become a leading light for rock music in its homeland whenever circumstances allow. They will be joining WITHIN TEMPTATION as the opening act on their "Bleed Out 2024" European tour this autumn, playing arenas across mainland Europe and the U.K.

The song is also being released worldwide via WITHIN TEMPTATION's own record label Force Music Recordings.

Sharon comments: "'Labyrinth' is not just a song; it's a testament to the enduring power of music. And even with Roman, the singer, and Ihor, the bass player, currently having been mobilized and in training for the war, BLIND8 continue to defy the odds, proving that even in the most challenging times, art can shine a light in the darkness."

BLIND8 remain committed and hopeful of spreading their message of solidarity, perseverance and defiance across Europe at the end of this year, playing to their largest audiences yet in huge arenas, when they support WITHIN TEMPTATION. The musicians have said that this song is their testament to the fact that even in the darkest times, music has the power to inspire and unite people.

WITHIN TEMPTATION will embark on a huge arena tour of Europe in the autumn of 2024. Joining them on this tour will be both WITHIN TEMPTATION's recent collaborative artists and longtime friends: singer Tarja Turunen (on select dates),German metalcore band ANNISOKAY, BLIND8, GREEN LIZARD and Ukrainian producer and vocalist Alex Yarmak.

The tour starts in September with two shows in The Netherlands (that sold out within days) and will continue throughout Europe in an array of impressive arenas. A number of dates have already sold out, with tickets running low across Europe.

Last fall, WITHIN TEMPTATION co-sponsored the Ukraine Aid Operations boat fundraiser for the Ukrainian Marines. They donated 6,000 euros for 30 patches, which they packaged with a limited-edition box of their latest album, "Bleed Out"

Four months ago, Den Adel spoke to Metal Musikast about WITHIN TEMPTATION's music video for the band's "A Fool's Parade" single, featuring Ukrainian producer and vocalist Alex Yarmak. Recorded amidst the streets of Kyiv with renowned Ukrainian video director Indy Hait, the clip captures Sharon at important Ukrainian landmarks. Asked what it was like to make a music video in the capital city of a country at war, Den Adel said: "Well, I was never scared to go there, because I was in good hands, to my opinion. We were helped to do this video and to organize everything, what we wanted to do in Kyiv, by the organization called Music Saves Ukraine. And they told us about the app that you had need to have. For instance, if you go into Kiev, which we did by night train from Poland, because there's no commercial flights from Amsterdam to Kyiv anymore. So we had to go by night train from Poland to Kyiv. And they told us to download an air-alerts app because everyone in Ukraine has that, and you can select a region that you are in and any incoming dangerous drones or airplanes, like MiGs, who are carrying a supersonic bomb or anything, they will put that in the app and you know what the danger is and how much time you have to go to a shelter. And there's shelters everywhere, even in the hotel that I was. And we once had to go underneath the metro station, because there was a MiG on their way. And sometimes it has a bomb, sometimes it doesn't. It's sometimes just looking and scouting where they can do something with the next airplane. And this time it wasn't wearing any supersonic bomb, which was good for us because it can wipe out a complete area in a matter of seconds."

In March 2022, WITHIN TEMPTATION was one of the artists who took part in a telethon concert in support of Ukraine. "Save Ukraine - #StopWar" united more than 20 countries and bring together more than 50 participants. The marathon was broadcast from Warsaw on the Polish TV channel TVP. In addition, broadcasters from many countries around the world rebroadcasted the marathon on their local channels.The "Bleed Out" album was released last October.

[fromtraveldiaries]

Notes from the land of the rising sun

If you think the Paris subway is a marvel, wait until you step into Tokyo's intricate underground labyrinth. The Japanese subway system is an experience that best reflects the essence of Japanese culture and efficiency.

The first thing you notice when you step into a Tokyo subway station are the orderly queues - on the escalators, at ticket counters, at entry and exit gates, and while boarding trains. The Japanese have transformed queuing into a well-organized and methodical art form, much unlike the Indians for who queueing is a rather abstract and a largely inscrutable exercise. This queue discipline extends beyond transportation to restaurants, take-away counters, and billing counters, where you find patrons patiently waiting their turn for service.

Another striking feature of Tokyo's subways is the pervasive silence. Compared to the prattle on the Paris metro or the pandemonium on the Indian metros, the Japanese subway is a quiet sanctuary. The Japanese are a quiet people who keep to themselves during public transit, their animated conversations are reserved for meal times. Food, often accompanied by drinks, is a more communal experience that's filled with lively discussions and noisy chatter. On buses, trains, and the subway, one finds commuters reading novels, manga, news, diaries, or watching anime or otherwise engaged on their phones. This quietude carries onto the roads, streets, and other public places. There's no honking and people talk in whispers in most places, except of course in eateries. Most Japanese folks like to go out with their friends and colleagues or have social gatherings in eateries. They love to take their time during such meals, which are almost always accompanied by drinks. The conversations are loud, full of banter and laughter.

At every station, you also have a helpdesk that actually works. We used these at many stations and were very impressed by the service we got. While returning from Kanazawa to Tokyo, our Shinkansen (bullet train) developed a snag. We were informed on board about this by the railway staff. They dropped us off at Nagano, where more railway staff were waiting to assist us. They put us on a train to Matsumoto, where more staff were waiting to help. We were put on a train to Shiojiri, where another set of helpful staff put us on a slow Azusa train to Shinjuku. During the whole time, everyone was apologetic and insisted that we collect our refund for the Shinkansen from the Shinjuku station. We had booked our tickets through Klook, so weren't really sure if we were eligible for a refund and how and when (if at all), we would get any refund. To our surprise, the lady at the helpdesk counter gave us an almost complete refund in cash, no questions asked. She said that they had been informed of the Shinkansen glitch and were expecting passengers such as us to alight at Shinjuku. She also profusely apologized for the inconvenience. At how many Indian stations can you expect this service?

In contrast to India's metro stations, where photography is 'strictly prohibited', one is free to click away in Japanese subways. We didn't find a single place where photography wasn't allowed or one had to pay extra charges just to click.

Respect for individuals is on display everywhere and in everyone. Courteous gestures greet one at every turn and we were quite surprised to find people bowing to us even for trivial interactions. We also learnt to bow in return with gratitude. Starting from clearly designated 'foreign friendly taxis' to courteous strangers going out of their way to assist you, you feel truly welcomed in Japan. You also feel as if you are a celebrity when you step into an eatery, for as you step in, the staff, including the chefs and the kitchen staff, boisterously greet you with a loud shout. Google what this means and you'll see what I mean.

At restaurants, you are invariably served ice cold water with ice cubes in long tumblers. This is the way of life even in cold winters. You can, however, also order warm/hot sake that really fires you up on wintry nights. While Tokyo offers a plethora of culinary delights, vegetarians might feel the need to seek out specific eateries. The cuisine draws heavily on raw food, mostly seafood, with minimal oil and spices. This is where the super helpful convenience stores like 7-11 and Family Mart offer a variety of options, including liquor. Japanese convenience stores have more variety of liquor than one finds in the regular wine shops back home.

That the Japanese are punctual is well known, but their service levels are at a different level altogether. At Kanazawa, we requested for a taxi at the hotel reception which was on the first floor. The receptionist made a call to a local cab company and informed that a taxi would arrive in three minutes. True to their word, by the time we descended the stairs and reached the ground floor, the taxi was already waiting for us. In both Kyoto and Tokyo, we noticed many shops displaying merchandise outside their doors and well out of their sight. In several grocers' vegetables were left unattended with price boards. People leave their umbrellas outside when entering shops. We also observed most households leaving their stuff outside at night.

Despite the absence of dustbins, Tokyo remains remarkably clean. Littering is a rare sight, thanks to the civic sense instilled in its residents. Further, there's no expectation of a tip for any service that you hire. Taxis and restaurants return you the exact change and you are expected to pocket your change before leaving. In fact, tipping might be considered offensive in many places. Should you run out of coins, there are machines installed in most public places that take your notes and provide you with coins. To help you tender exact change, these machines are also installed in all buses. By the way, the Japanese bus drivers are smartly dressed, polite, and greet you when you pay and get off. Compare that with the Indian buses and our drivers.

An ubiquitous presence throughout Japan are the vending machines. The offer everything, from beverages to snacks, and refreshments to souvenirs. Game arcades are also quite popular, lined up in most tourist locations. We spent a fortune on the vending machines, collecting souvenirs that are quite cheap but of exquisite quality. Tokyo, Kyoto, and Kanazawa are filled with rows and rows of these vending machines stretching on for blocks altogether.

Tokyo is unbelievably busy at all times of the day and night. The trains are always filled and the stations are always crowded. Folks are either going to work or returning from work at all hours. Whether the well-groomed crowd of Ginza, the diverse crowd of Shibuya, the aloof funky of Shinjuku or the dignified crowd of Monzennakacho, the residents of each district have their own way to go about their lives. School kids, even when returning late, show impeccable discipline, immersed in their phones, reading manga, playing games, or watching anime. There were many places in the US and in France where we felt unsafe during our travels. The less said about India, the better. In comparison, we never felt unsafe throughout our visit in Japan, not even for a moment.

This trip to Japan has been a revealation to say the least. From the land of the rising sun, arigato gozaimas.

[aurinkos-toybox]

subway

dolls aren't allowed to control or manipulate any "thing" larger than themselves.

our doll took trains often. a city as big as this one, many errands forced it to spend time navigating the labyrinth of transportation maps afforded to it. after a while, the most common errands became second nature, as did the metro rides that facilitated them: down the stairs, swipe at the turnstile, wait at the platform, board, wait, de-board, exit at the turnstile, up the stairs, and onward.

spending time on the train was a gentle respite for our doll. it saw a world, vast and colorful, it wished to explore someday. strange buildings and rolling hills, signs pointing to a million different lives possible for the city's other inhabitants. an urge to jump out wherever she pleased to explore, even for a few minutes or an hour if it felt brave, had to be latently suppressed each trip.

it's stop had arrived. out of the metro car, down the stairs our doll went - crisscrossing other travelers on their way out of the platform. this was one of it's usual trips - an errand to obtain a new chess set, a pair of French candles, a half-dozen package of tinned fish, a luxury notebook with a proprietary typeface - to a familiar vendor. the shop's owner recognized the doll, sometimes slipping a thank-you note alongside homemade chocolate samples after ringing up it's shopping list.

the bag was heavy on the doll. before stepping back towards the platform, it hesitated: the weather was unusually sunny, gentle rays of light shining down on a park designed alongside the multi-story row of shops that felt like a third or fourth home to our doll. and so it spent a few minutes sitting down on the grassy knoll, enjoying the chocolate and stuffing the shopkeeper's note into it's blouse pocket. a row of orange colored bikes stood in a rack at the park's entrance, free to use with a deposit refunded when the bike was returned from use. it sighed, gazing out further into the horizon to acres of park yet to be explored.

dolls aren't allowed to control or manipulate any "thing" larger than themselves.

[neddie97cherry]

Songs that remind be of JJ maybank

Breaking dishes -Rihana

Supermassive black hole- muse

…ready for it -Taylor swift

Bang! -AJR

Why I love you- jay z

Runnin (lose it all) naughty boy ft Beyoncé

Bad Reputation- Joan jett & the black hearts

Where’d all the time go? - dr. Dog

Black out days- phantogram

Bed chem- Sabrina carpenter

Look after you- the fray

Daddy issues -the neighbourhood ft syd

Friends- chase atlantic

It hurts now that your gone- I don’t like mirrors

Sailor song- Gigi Perez

Chateau- angus and Julia stone

Style- Taylor swift

That’s so true- Gracie Abram’s

The spins- Mac miller

Gilded lily - cults

Never felt so alone- labrinth

Sex money feelings die - Lykke Li

Tumblr girls -G-easy

Seven- Taylor swift

Scott street- phoebe bridgers

Sidelines phoebe bridgers

I know the end -phoebe bridgers

Lady killers g-easy

Call your mom - Noah kahn

Work song- Hozier

Lights are on- Tom rosenthal

Ghost of you - 5sos

The last time- Taylor swift

Evermore- Taylor swift

Cruel summer Taylor swift

How did it end -Taylor swift

Loml- Taylor swift

Softcore the neighbourhood

After hours - the weeknd

Somewhere only we know -keane

Heat waves- glass animals

Why’d you only call me when your high- artic monkeys

Cigarette daydreams -cage the elephants

Labyrinth - Taylor swift

About you -the 1975

You get me so high - the neighbourhood

Apocalypse- cigarettes after sex

Adventures of a lifetime- Coldplay

Midnight city -m83

Shake it -metro station

The thrill - wiz khalifa

My blood -Ellie Goulding

Favorite crime- Olivia Rodrigo

Atlantis - seafret

Ceilings - Lizzy alphine

Meet you at the graveyard - cleffy

Hold on- chord over street

Right where you left me -Taylor swift

How to save a life -the fray

[jflashandclash]

Tales From Mount Othrys

Axel: Into the Lion's Maw IV

Axel had a horrifying realization: if they bottlenecked to get into the Labyrinth, they would bottleneck on the way out. He could imagine their meaningless march into a massacre, Kampe shoving each demigod to their death in an orderly fashion.

Upon stepping into the corridor, Axel was pleased to see that Lucille had been right about remaining calm. Kampe was, contrary to the bottleneck visual, an excellent strategist.

There was a massive corridor inside the entrance. Above them stretched a curved lattice of ornamental windows. Their floral and geometric designs were interspersed with white and green mosaics. Leaves and muck obscured parts of the glass, only allowing a few rays into the vast space. Where the light did break through, dust danced lazily in a snowy haze.

This was beautiful. Maybe eerie? But nothing like that horrors he’d come to associate with the Labyrinth. Alabaster said this was a foolish place to enter, that they’d lose a quarter of their army just getting through the maze. Axel rarely questioned Alabaster’s logic in mythological matters, but, seeing this…          

Several giants stood towards the far end of this massive chamber, presumably to lead their eventual charge. Earlier, Luke said the ground around the Zeus’ fist entrance was weak. If they sent the giants in first, they could likely widen that entrance.

Axel lowered his gaze. They didn’t have metros in Belize and, in their short stay in Los Angeles, Santiago always hired private cars. It took him a heartbeat or two to recognize the indents in the floor as tracks for a train. The monsters and demigods crawling in and out of them looked quite comfortable in the abandoned subway station. Axel just hoped no ghost trains came through to make everyone go splat.

Behind him, demigods coming in had a similar gasp of appreciation and relaxation. Someone mumbled, “Wow… so much better than Matthias’ horror game simulation.”

Lucille’s shoulder brushed his as she released his hand. “It’s lovely, isn’t it?”

Axel huffed out a laugh. “Wish you could show Ethel?”

Lucille gave another weak giggle. She lifted her pilum towards her mouth, the same motion she would normally use to cover it. “Not my ideal romantic outing, but maybe, one—”

“Daughter of Aphrodite,” thundered from the far side of the room. Kampe made the title sound like an insult. Axel almost couldn’t see Kampe amongst all the giants. It was strange seeing them in battle gear. Seeing them made him think of the Triple A Chimera Dance and the horrifying death contraption Matthias had rigged to transport them like weasels in a titan-sized backpack.

Lucille nudged Axel’s shoulder. “Stay close. I need someone I can trust in battle.” The levity vanished. She meant it. Cho, Axel internally swore, was dissidents in Luke’s troops so bad that even Lucille was worried? He swallowed.

Others parted until they were at the lead of the demigods, several lines back from Kampe.

Kampe and the giants were already lumbering forward. The tunnel shook, sending more dust particles cascading into the dim light rays. Their march forward was both deafening and devastatingly wordless. Hundreds of feet of various kind—hooved, scaled, and mammalian—droned into an eerie oppressive din. No one spoke.

This tunnel led to a narrow one with less natural illumination. Well, there was a dim, continuous glimmer ahead of them. The floor seemed to almost… glow. Despite this, various demigods fumbled for lights. The monsters were unbothered by the darkness, but Axel could sense the mounting panic in his fellow soldiers.

His own chest had constricted. This reminded him of the cage matches—

“We’re okay…” Lucille cooed. Axel could see she’d turned to walk backwards, so the demigods would hear her without risking mockery from the monsters.

The fear evaporated. Axel couldn’t be sure if it was Lucille’s charmspeak or… his fingers had reached back to brush the cool metal of the lion helm. He hadn’t consciously meant to touch it, but it felt comforting.

The tunnels snaked, curved, elevated, lowered, and altered from metal to concrete to mud. There were scuffles ahead. Potentially foes that Kampe and the giants extinguished without real resistance.

Despite how Axel hated to admit it, he wished Jack were here. He would have feigned a newscaster, giving everyone live updates in rhyming verse, likely with acoustic or kazoo accompaniment. He could imagine Kampe trying to squash him as he asked her what kind of battle ballad she would want after this victory. If Jack was here, they would have known exactly what was happening ahead when Axel had to grab Lucille’s arm to prevent her from bumping into a Scythian Dracaena.

Axel’s ears perked up and strained forward to hear. There was a disagreement. Kampe hissing, “But, the string says to go this way. This is the most direct route.”

Was the air thinner down here? It was colder. Axel could see puffs of air as it evaporated out of the anonymous metal helmets around him. The demigods’ reverence and obedience to Kampe seemed to ebb with each strained breath in the tunnel. Whatever argument was happening made the demigods apprehensive. He could sense some sort of rising tension in the way they glanced at one another.

“Can you hear them?” Lucille murmured.

Axel parted his lips to answer when someone thundered, “You fool! That could bring the tunnels down upon us!”

And a shriek of pain.

The demigods startled. Axel knew the movement: the nervous shuffle of a herd before it sprinted to panic.

Lucille shifted her pilum into the hand with her shield. She squeezed Axel’s shoulder, or he thought she did through the armor. “Keep everyone calm.”

The light pressure left. Like Lucille was flitting backstage, she slipped amidst the monsters, the plumes of her helmet becoming indistinguishable from horns and tails bobbing in the dull lighting. He could almost envision her pirouetting.

Keep everyone calm.

It’s not like Axel’s little knowledge of Maya magic was fear-based. Or like they mostly knew him from murdering people “for sport.” Or like what Alabaster taught him about the Mist was used to blend into and out of shadows.

Oh, he would be as natural at this as Flynn was at childrearing. He hoped Lucille could settle the dispute quickly.

Whispers of worry wormed their way behind him into a growing, writhing mass. “Hold,” he growled.

They died down. The Dracaena ahead of him jumped.

Yeah, a natural. He couldn’t say something without scaring the monsters, let alone the demigods.

He hoped Lucille realized that directing sword lessons and commanding an army were very different activities. Why did she and Alabaster seem to think he’d be such a natural at it when Pax wouldn’t even listen to him?

Are they different? the helm—was it the helm?—hissed.

No one else reacted. Axel wondered when others could hear the lion’s helm or… or had he just imagined it talking? He reached to feel the cool metal. Whether the lion’s helm or his own thoughts—cho, he was beginning to sound like Jack—it was right: maybe directing sword practice was similar to commanding troops.

And neither one involved freezing up like Pax had pantsed him in front of Aphrodite.

Axel pivoted away from the monsters to face the demigods. “Lucille has gone to confer with Kampe. Take this time to check your equipment. No one wants their first battle tactic to involve tripping on untied shoelaces.”

Nervous laughter. A decrease in tension. Murmurs went from worry to routine: all of these soldiers were used to checking each other’s armor. Axel knew there was comfort in repetition.  

Until one voice spoke up, fluttery and quick.

“The tunnels ahead are too narrow for the monsters to pass. Kampe could start a panic. They’ll trample us.”

Axel didn’t recognize the voice. It was high with a fragile quaver, like Pax when he was acting pathetic to get something from someone.[1]

Everyone stopped checking their armor. The tunnels went quiet. They stared, in unison, to Axel’s side.

A hand clutched his shoulder. This wasn’t the comforting grace of Lucille’s hand, but a shaking, icy pain. Axel swallowed. The speaker had bent his armor by touching him.

Her irises were wide, so wide and such complete discs of blackness; Axel could imagine ink overflowing and dripping down her face. The sclera was more red than white. Dark circles encompassed her eyes. In an insomnia competition between her and Axel, she wouldn’t just win, but make Hypnos beg her to take a break.

Her rags reeked of urine and defecation. Of rot and unattended sweat. Scabs of varied age crusted her arms, neck, and shoulders. With her other hand, she absently picked one open, revealing a glimmer of tainted gold.

Ichor.

“Chris said you could help me,” she whispered. She stood a little taller. “He said you were strong.”

Chris. Chris Rodriguez.

“But you can’t.”

Chris Rodriguez, Matthias and Pax’s close friend.

 “Can you?”

Chris Rodriguez who vanished into the labyrinth.

“You can’t help anyone.”

Chris Rodriguez who went mad.

���My name,” her soprano quavered so violently, it blurred to euphoria, “is Mary.”

-----

Footnote:

[1] It only worked on Jack.

Jack, “MY BABY NEEDS ME!”

-------

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! And thank you for your patience with me from last weekend! I plan to release next weekend, since I skipped a week, and then resume every-other-week. A job application+school kicked my ass XD Seriously, thank all of you so much for your continued support, likes, and comments. (And artwork, JACE! THE ARTWORK) I appreciate how kind everyone has been as I get my feet back under me and am hoping to respond to asks/tags soon!

[redd956]

58 Books Reading List

Originally made for myself; decided to post it (Have already read several, and some I added many for others to look into because I read them and they were fire)

CW: Primarily depressing????

Dracula by Bram Stoker

Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo

The Fox and the Hound by Daniel P. Mannix

Animal Farm by George Orwell

The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne

Metro 2033 by Dmitry Glukhovsky

Dune by Frank Herbert

Of Mice and Men by John Steinbeck

Watership Down by Richard Adams

Who Goes There? by John W. Campbell

Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain

Iron Widow by Xiran Jay Zhao

Catch-22 by Joseph Heller

Don Quixote by Miguel de Cervantes

The Liar's Club by Mary Karr

Felidae by Akif Pirinçci

House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski

A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens

The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley

Aeon Legion: Labyrinth by J. P. Beaubien

Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings by Maya Angelou

Reading Lolita In Tehran by Azar Nafisi

The Last Unicorn by Peter S. Beagle

Percy Jackson & The Olympians by Rick Riordan

Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison

Night by Elie Wiesel

A Wrinkle in Time by Madeleine L'Engle

The Exorcist by William Peter Blatty

Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe

The Catcher in the Rye by J. D. Salinger

Holes by Louis Sachar

The Jungle by Upton Sinclair

The Hobbit by J. R. R. Tolkien

Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neale Hurston

Moby Dick by Herman Melville

The Plague Dogs by Richard Adams

The Call of the Wild by Jack London

The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho

Raptor Red by Robert T. Bakker

Beloved by Tori Morrison

Lord of the Flies by William Golding

The Book Thief by Markus Zusak

Life of Pi by Yann Martel

Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer

Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris

Slaughterhouse 5 by Kurt Vonnegut

Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones

Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett

Shadow of the Conqueror by Shad Brooks

Le Morte d'Arthur by Thomas Malory

The Outsiders by S. E. Hinton

A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens

All Quiet on the Western Front by Erich Maria Remarque

Middlemarch by George Eliot

The Color Purple by Alice Walker

The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

[blueskittlesart]

the subway station is hell. every time a story section forces you to actually get on the correct train instead of just fast travelling with the map i suffer for like ten minutes running in circles

ok listen my hometown is just outside of dc and i used to take both the metro and metrobuses like. semi-regularly. i have never once gotten lost in a real life subway station. idk if tokyo subway stations are actually like that or if persona 5 decided to build a fucking underground labyrinth just for shits and giggles but i think if i had to navigate those hell tunnels in real life i would probably end up trapped for days on end

[apoptoses]

To Bring You My Love Armand/Daniel ~2k PG armand hates the subway/cuddling/gratuitous description of how daniel sounds and smells

@rainbowcarousels put the idea in my head to rewrite the subway ride from Pale Shelter from Armand’s pov, just to see how it would be different. Naturally I had to run and do it. You don’t need to have read the bigger fic to enjoy this but I recommend you do so anyways, for extra context.

Also on AO3.

The 72nd Street Metro Station was a monstrous thing.

Armand had a far off memory from his youth of visiting a bee keeper. He didn’t remember the finer details of it, but the experience of seeing the man reach into the wooden box and pull out a panel of honeycomb was one he could not forget. Great viscous globs of honey dripped from the panel, tantalizing and sweet, but what stuck out in Armand’s mind was the bees. The deafening sound of them as they crawled atop one another. It had been difficult to tell where one insect ended and another began, and yet none of them seemed to mind. They stepped on one another without any grace or care, entirely focused on some task the bee keeper had tried to explain. Armand had been unable to take in any of his words. He was too amazed by the swarming, writhing mass before him to hear him.

As he followed Daniel to the gates, subway token in hand, Armand felt as if he were within the swarm.

He would have held on to Daniel’s arm. He was becoming fond of doing that, even though he was perfectly capable of tracking him through any crowd. But Daniel was angry with him. It was understandable, of course- Armand remembered being so unhappy when his master took his leave of him. It was only that he couldn’t bear to explain the necessary steps of keeping Daniel safe.

Daniel had only recently begun to drop his guard around him. Less and less he was thinking about the thing Armand was. If Armand explained to him the necessity of clearing out younger vampires from the city he was in, of hunting them down one by one and dispatching them from their immortal existence and all that entailed, how could Daniel ever look at him and not see him as nothing but a monster? And then the thirst he’d begun to experience around this boy every time he got his heart rate up-

No, Armand could not think of even acknowledging that.

Instead he examined the subway token, a round gold coin not unlike those he’d used to purchase his first set of fine clothes in Venice. There was a Y shape cut out in the middle. He had the passing thought to ask Daniel why, what that meant, but then Daniel was putting his in the slot already. He copied him, watching in fascination as the coin clinked inside the box and the turnstile unlocked to allow him to pass through.

The people around them buffeted Armand about like a ship tossed around on the sea. He kept one eye on Daniel as he scanned the crowd.

Men in business suits. Ladies in bell bottoms and platform heels. Children tugged along by harried parents. A small group of nuns in full habit, chatting as they swept by. A homeless man, asleep on the cold hard floor. A man walking a dog, yes, a dog in this indoor space.

Armand had been in great crowds before, of course. Venice at midday had been a busy place and he’d had to keep the laces on Riccardo’s doublet wrapped around his hand to keep himself from getting lost. But that had been during the day, with the sun shining down and the sea breeze wafting away the smell of humanity. The artificial light within the subway was eerie in comparison. It made the people look like ghouls as they rushed from place to place.

He’d stopped to watch a jazz band play, crammed into the corner, raucous but largely overlooked. Daniel tugged at his sleeve and through the labyrinth they continued.

Together they clattered down the stairs. Down and down and down until they came to the platform at last; that dimly lit, dank place, stinking of sour water and piss. The platform was unbearably crowded. Armand could hardly imagine how they all expected to get on the train, much less where they could all be going.

“Hieronymous Bosch was wrong,” Armand said as they stood at the edge together and waited for the train to come.

Daniel gave him a curious look. “Wrong about what?”

“He painted hell as a fantastical place, lit by fire and full of strange mythical beings. He was wrong,” Armand said. The tunnel had begun to shake. Even the rats down on the tracks scampered to safety. “This. This is hell.”

The train roared like some great beast as it rushed into the station, so swiftly Armand’s hair blew back from his face with the breeze it brought with it.

Daniel laughed and took him by surprise with the way he put his arm around his shoulders. “I imagine most of New York would agree with you.”

The train doors opened. Before Armand could step aside the crowd spewed forth from within the train car, jostling even his immortal form hard enough he stumbled back against Daniel. The car appeared narrow, and covered in graffiti. Armand wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to get in but then he hardly had a choice. People were pushing from behind and he and Daniel were caught up in the current.

Perhaps this was an experience he would enjoy in the afternoon, when he could take in the sights of people on the seats and the tunnels blurring together outside the windows. But now, during rush hour, Armand was in the belly of the beast. People were packed in so tightly he could imagine it would be difficult for a mortal to breathe. It was hard for him to remember to breathe, as unnecessary as that function was for him.

And the sensation of it-

Hundreds of hearts were pounding around them all at once, the sound intermingling with their owners’ thoughts until it was deafening. There was the smell of a thousand different soaps, laundry detergents, aftershaves, all synthetic and cloying. The alcoholic tang of hairspray. The underlying hint of piss and body odor and something herbal that brought Armand straight back to the days he’d spent in a brothel smoking hemp. Around every person an aura burned, colors blending and blurring as they swam before Armand’s eyes.

Armand had learned to tune out his unnatural senses ages ago, but this was a test even for him. He was completely subsumed by the sensory experience of this narrow, miserable train car.

Somehow Daniel pushed them through the crowd. Got them over by the door, where they could lean against the filthy glass. Wrapped one arm around Armand’s shoulders, the other around his waist so that he was held close, protected from the crush.

“I hardly need protecting,” Armand murmured.

A half truth. Against any predator he would be fine, even in close quarters such as this. But against the heaving smells and sounds of the subway car?

Armand needed all of the protection he could get.

“Yeah, I’m aware of that. It’s the rest of the people in here I’m worried for, trust me,” Daniel joked and patted his back.

The doors shut with a dull thud. The monster they were within lurched to life. Around them the crowd stumbled but Armand’s feet stayed firmly planted on the sticky floor.

He couldn’t recall ever having been so close to Daniel before. Certainly couldn’t recall Daniel ever holding him so willingly, but if there was any time it would be a miracle for him to forget his anger and his hesitance around Armand it was this.

Armand rested his cheek against Daniel’s sternum. Slipped his arms around his waist and closed his eyes. Let himself drown in this boy as the rest of existence faded away into the background of his mind. 

Once Armand had found the smell of cigarettes acrid. He’d hated the smoke, the nicotine that stuck to the works of art around him and stained everything hazy yellow. But in coming to know Daniel he’d come to find it a comfort, sharp and familiar as he buried his face in his t-shirt and inhaled the remnants of his evening cigarette. It blended with the smell of the cologne Armand had found for him; the cinnamon and clove and frankincense. A smell that took him straight back to old Venice, that he’d searched so hard in the dark department store to find.

You’re using the aftershave I left for you.

Yeah, well. Waste not want not, that’s what my mom always said.

Armand hardly meant to nuzzle against Daniel like some desperate housecat. It was only that he couldn’t help it, not when Daniel rested his chin atop his head and stroked his shoulder.

He was so warm. The quiet rasp of his breathing joined the rhythm of the blood that rushed through his heart. Daniel had eaten something for dinner and Armand could hear the wet gurgle of digestion within him, an old and unfamiliar sound that was delightful to his ear. Armand curled his fingers in his shirt and pressed his cheek harder against his broad chest. 

Above him Daniel was wondering if he’d ever been held or comforted as a child. If maybe that was why he didn’t do such things for Daniel without being begged.

It felt as if a fist had clenched around his heart. Armand had hurt this boy and yet here he was, sheltering him from the torment of the subway. Daniel was truly better than he deserved.

His violet eyes met Armand’s in the smudged glass on the door. Armand, unable to hold his gaze, squeezed his eyes shut. He would do better. He had to do better. Daniel had no idea how much he’d come to mean to him these past months, that Armand was considering breaking every vow he’d ever made to himself just to have him for the handful of years that was a mortal lifespan. For now that he had been held in Daniel’s arms how could he not seek this out every night from this one forward?

The subway train was beginning to slow. Armand could barely hear the squeal of the breaks above the pounding of Daniel’s heart.

He kept his eyes closed as the doors opened and let Daniel guide him to step back from the rush of people exiting the car. A new flood of humanity got on. Around them the sounds and smells shifted with this new jumble of commuters but Armand paid them no mind. He was safely enclosed in his little space between Daniel’s chest and the cold metal door; in the familiar and wonderful experience of him.

“How much further, Daniel?” he mumbled.

Daniel stroked over his arm, up and down, again and again. His heart picked up when Armand turned his face and rested his forehead on his clavicle. When he swallowed Armand could hear the wet click of his throat. 

“Seven more stops and then we’ll be there.”

I should have just gotten in the car with him, this is a pretty shitty way to travel even for someone who’s curious about anything and everything.

Armand inhaled deeply and ran his hands up beneath Daniel’s jacket. They came to rest on his shoulder blades, fingers spread out as he tried to gauge the width of them. Daniel was so delicate and yet so strong. For the duration of this subway trip Armand could pretend he was mortal again, just a young man curled up in his lover’s arms.

The subway was a perfectly pleasant way to travel, Armand decided. Seven stops could not pass by slowly enough.

[themistymountainscold]

thanks eli ily @edgyeli <3

rules: pick a song for every letter of your url

c - carnavoyeur - queens of the stone age

a - almost (sweet music) - hoizer

p - paranoid android (triple j like-a-version) - ball parl music

t - the labyrinth song - asaf avidan

a - apocalypse - cirgarettes after sex

i - if only - dave mathews band

n - never sorry - jeremy renner

r - razzmatazz - I DON'T KNOW HOW BUT THEY FOUND ME

e - everything moves - bronze radio return (second fav song rn)

x - dreams where ur murdered - x lovers (going by artist for this one 'cause i don't have any songs starting with x)

s - sunlight - spacey jane

h - hell above - pierce the veil

u - united in grief - kendrick lamar

s - strangers - kenya grace

b - breezeblocks - alt-j

a - am i dreaming - metro boomin

n - no guts no glory - star-lord band

d - devil like you - gareth dunlop (fav song rn)

npt: @starrrgazingbunny @thestarwarslesbian @t3mpest98 @teawolfpirate and anyone else who wants to do it really

[realtorjamier]

D.C’s Best Picnic Spots!

Where to go, what to bring

Dining al fresco in D.C. doesn’t have to break the bank. In fact, if you want to avoid making reservations, waiting in line and eating elbow-to-elbow with strangers, planning a picnic is a great alternative. There are so many scenic (Instagram-worthy) spots to throw down a blanket and enjoy this simple and charming tradition. Here we’re sharing some of the best places in D.C. for a picnic – as well as some tips to make your picnic pleasant for all involved.

Hauling your provisions 

Although traditional picnic baskets are cute, your best bet is to purchase a modern, sensible picnic backpack since activities in D.C. typically involve walking some distance from your car or taking the metro and hauling a heavy hand-held basket will be cumbersome. Check Amazon for some great options. You can find backpacks with comfortable padded straps and efficiently organized compartments for cutlery, plates, napkins, a cooler, a blanket and more. You might want to invest in two backpacks and share the load with a friend.

Picnic food ideas

Reimagine the ordinary sandwich, chips, and soda. Take it up a notch and serve baguettes; or take it up two notches with quiche, charcuterie boards, fancy salads, and refreshing cocktails. Make sure most of your meal consists of finger foods (easy to eat) so you don’t have to worry about multiple plates/cutlery. And don’t forget dessert! 

Another culinary option: order food-to-go from your favorite D.C. restaurant. You’ll still need a method to transport it to your picnic destination, but letting someone else prepare and pack the meal will involve less work on your end.

Don’t forget to pack

Sunscreen

Anti-bacterial wipes

Wet naps

Garbage bags

Bug spray

Places to picnic

We’re providing some tried-and-true venues here, but there are so many more possibilities. Wherever your destination, make sure you learn about parking options (or Metro stops) in advance. Also, do a little research to make sure your spot is picnic friendly and open for visitors.

Between Constitution and Independence Ave., SW

Known as “America’s Front Yard,” this iconic spot is punctuated by the Lincoln Memorial and the Washington Monument and flanked by Smithsonian museums. The long, grassy swath is often crowded, but people-watching can be just as fun as gazing at the patriotic landmarks.

1100 Ohio Drive SW

Located at the southern tip of East Potomac Park between the main branch of the Potomac River and the Washington Channel, Hains Point offers beautiful views of the Potomac River, the Anacostia River and the Washington Channel. It’s an ideal spot for bird watching and also has a playground and restrooms. A four-mile loop allows you to take in the many different species of cherry trees while hiking or biking. 

Located on the Potomac River and accessible by George Washington Memorial Parkway

This 90-acre island is a memorial to America’s 26th president and features miles of trails through wooded uplands and swampy bottomlands. Ranger-led programs are available. 

16th Street and W Street NW

A spectacular cascading fountain, reflecting pool, statues, and more will be your backdrop at Meridian Hill Park (also known as Malcolm X Park). If you’re there on a Sunday afternoon, you’ll most likely be able to watch a full-blown weekly drum circle party starting at 3 p.m., a tradition that began in the 1960s.

The Yards Park (and Dancing Fountains)

355 Water Street SE

This public space along the Anacostia River has gardens, water features, a dog run, a boardwalk and a shaded overlook.

Wisconsin and K St., NW

This 10-acre park curves along the Potomac River shoreline and includes a large fountain, benches, overlooks and large open lawn areas. A labyrinth with geometric turns encourages quiet contemplation as you wind your way from the outer edge to the center. Stadium-like steps leading to the river edge are a favorite place for picnickers. 

Hirshhorn Museum and Sculpture Garden

Independence Ave. SW and 7th St. SW

The sculpture garden is free to enter, offering more than 30 works of contemporary and modern art displayed year-round — and picnics are permitted.

[mariacallous]

We are still in the early phase of Operation Swords of Iron, the name of the Israeli military response to the horrific Hamas-led massacre of more than 1,400 Israelis on Oct. 7. Israeli Defense Minister Yoav Gallant has predicted a “long war.” Amid an intensifying aerial bombing campaign, the Israel Defense Forces (IDF) are gearing up for a large-scale ground invasion of densely populated Gaza. The IDF is expected to face stiff resistance on the ground by Hamas, Palestinian Islamic Jihad, and other groups, which will try to leverage the urban terrain, civilian population, and vast labyrinth of underground tunnels—dubbed the Gaza metro—for asymmetric advantages in this fight.

The IDF, built around a system of universal conscription and reserve service, is considered one of the best militaries in the world. Its air force and special operations units are the envy of many a NATO general. A key element that makes the IDF a potent force is the United States’ long-standing commitment to maintaining the Israelis’ qualitative military superiority over potential adversaries by providing roughly $3.8 billion a year in military assistance. Coupled with the IDF’s lavish use of Israel’s thriving tech sector, this allows the IDF to field an expensive, high-tech military, including cutting-edge air and missile defense systems, stealth fighters, as well as advanced intelligence, surveillance, and reconnaissance (ISR) capabilities.

Yet it may be exactly this IDF quest for high-tech superiority over low-tech adversaries, such as Hamas, that has clouded its vision. Not only did the IDF’s sense of technological superiority contribute to its failure to anticipate a sophisticated combined arms attack on Oct. 7, but it may also be a tactical disadvantage in the expected ground campaign in Gaza. This wouldn’t be the first time it has been a problem: Analysts have pointed out that a “cult of technology” contributed to the IDF’s poor performance in the 2006 Lebanon War.

The reasons the IDF’s high-tech focus can backfire are interrelated. First, at the level of strategy and politics, Israel’s trust in technological superiority helped policymakers and senior military officers fall victim to the illusion that there were no hard choices to be made in Israel’s military strategy. Second, overreliance on such technology at the tactical level contributed to a defensive mindset within the IDF that may have allowed important skills, such as the ability to conduct complex combined arms operations when attacking, to atrophy. These weaknesses in the IDF’s ability to attack have been identified by Israel’s defense community as an issue for many years, and the IDF is currently in the middle of a process of doctrinal and structural adaptation as it experiments with a new warfighting concept. This incomplete process makes the timing of the impending land campaign suboptimal, to say the least.

Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s strategic myopia and hubris that led him to be blindsided on Oct. 7 was enabled by the trust that the IDF and Israel’s other security services had in their technological sophistication. It did so by creating the sense that Israel could have its cake and eat it, too, without the need to make any trade-offs: It could strive for better relations with its Arab neighbors while convincing itself that it was managing and containing Hamas and its allies—avoiding any need to deal with the immediate military threats posed by highly motivated, disciplined, and increasingly technologically sophisticated nonstate adversaries in Gaza and southern Lebanon.

The best symbol of this attitude is the “smart” border fence, a barricade along the Gaza Strip 20 feet high, 40 miles long, and fitted with sophisticated sensors and remote-operated machine guns. The fence, also called the Iron Wall, led to the tragically mistaken belief that there was no need for large numbers of IDF boots on the ground to guard against intrusions, which permitted more IDF ground forces to be deployed to the West Bank and elsewhere—or not to be raised at all. This false sense of security was compounded by the belief that Israel’s Iron Dome missile defense system, first introduced in 2011 and designed to intercept short-range rockets and artillery, would offer adequate protection against rocket and artillery attacks from Gaza and southern Lebanon in the event of a larger-scale conflict. Further cementing the belief that there were no longer hard strategic choices to make were Israel’s sophisticated ISR capabilities, which make Gaza, southern Lebanon, and the West Bank some of the most surveilled and watched swaths of lands in the world. This, the Israelis believed, would provide ample warning time to respond to any emerging military threat.

At the strategic level of political and military decision-making, the fixation on high tech had direct consequences for the character of IDF operations. For one thing, it helped shape a more defense-oriented tactical doctrine relying on firepower (primarily missile strikes from the air) rather than maneuvering ground forces to achieve military objectives. This doctrine is best expressed by the IDF’s strategy of “mowing the grass”—attacking the Hamas leadership and some of its militaryinfrastructure to manage rather than eradicate the group. This strategy required only limited ground incursions into Gaza, the last of which took place in 2014.

One consequence of the “mowing the grass” strategy was that the IDF saw even less need to be ready for large-scale ground operations. As a result, the combined arms skills of its line units on the ground have declined in recent years. Instead of preparing for future wars, these units were busy policing the West Bank and protecting settlers.

In trying to remedy its overreliance on defensive tactics and limited attacks, the IDF is currently developing a new operating concept called Decisive Victory—which risks falling into the technological trap once again. Decisive Victory is built on the same sorts of premises as many new operational concepts of NATO militaries: multidomain, combined arms operations supported by artificial intelligence, where dispersed and more autonomous forces apply precision firepower to quickly defeat an adversary. This involves a combination of precision strikes from the air; smaller, more agile, and more rapidly deployable ground units; and the use of machine learning to help identify, track, and engage targets.

Decisive Victory, in short, is built on the premise that superior ISR capabilities paired with AI and smart munitions will increase the IDF’s combat effectiveness while reducing the size of the forces needed to effectively conduct military operations. As the Oct. 7 attack showed, however, if the technologies underlying your conception of warfare are destroyed or overwhelmed and you lack boots on the ground, overreliance on technology creates a single point of failure. Without traditional military assets such as larger-scale, rapidly deployable forces, the IDF risks having no Plan B to quickly respond to a dynamic attack or other fast-evolving military situations.

To be clear, the IDF has not yet implemented the new operating concept, in part because of delays in the five-year Tnufa program of military reforms initiated in 2020. Another reason is that the IDF is still testing and experimenting with its new operating concept.

For example, the IDF set up an experimental unit of special operations forces called Ghost to test some of the core tenets of Decisive Victory. (The unit’s commander was killed in combat on Oct. 7.) Elements of Decisive Victory can also be found across many other units within the IDF, and its tenets are certainly impacting operational planning for the upcoming ground invasion of Gaza.

What does the IDF’s continued fixation on high-tech solutions mean for an invasion of Gaza and beyond?

At the tactical level, the IDF never had the illusion that emerging technologies will make military conflict any less bloody or combat-intensive. As the IDF has acknowledged, casualties on both sides could be severe and the campaign protracted, despite the IDF’s preference for short and decisive operations. This could be compounded by the lack of combined arms training of both active and reserve units, with the exception of a number of elite formations.

Even if the IDF has shown itself to be highly adaptable to swiftly changing tactical situations in the past, going into battle right now could still prove risky. Its forces are in the middle of doctrinal and technological adaptation, premised on the belief of emerging technological capabilities such as AI. In practice, the half-abandonment of existing doctrine combined with only a rudimentary understanding of the new operating concept could lead to a marked increase in friction during IDF operations. This could degrade the impending offensive to little more than the familiar “mowing the grass” tactic but on a larger and more protracted scale. An overall victory could prove illusory.

At the political and more strategic level, the continued belief in qualitative military superiority based on superior technology could lead Israelis to be overly optimistic compared with the reality of the war. This could allow the Netanyahu government to muddle through despite the likely failure—at least for a while.

[gabriel-gabdiel]

Fantasy of Evolution Chapter 4: Manic Pixie Dream Girl

Florante is having trouble telling reality from fantasy at this point. Does he even want to be involved with Jenny’s angel and demon nonsense? 

Which side should he choose? You’d think the angels’ side is the right path, but he has enough darkness in him to go demon too.

You can also find more chapters of my original fiction here. Please enjoy.

First | Previous | Next

Dismissal time came and went.

The friendless, listless Florante Galang shuffled towards his school service—a public utility jeepney (PUJ) turned private vehicle—in order to repeat the Groundhog's Day loop of him going home from class, waking up again to return to the same class, and having no one to talk to as he ended up scoring mediocre grades on his quizzes and quarterly exams.

Oh joy. It was like he was stuck in Groundhog's Day. The same day repeating over and over.

But the same could be said of every other student in Fatima School of Mandaluyong. He couldn't really complain.

He was neither the first nor last kid to be bored of the repetitiveness of school. Socially awkward kids were born every day.

Also, it wasn't as if the Philippines had its own version of the Groundhog's Day holiday either. Florante just liked that particular Bill Murray movie enough to reference it in his mind monologue; it was his closest point of comparison.

The only other metaphor he could think of was the eternal afterlife punishment of the Grecian mythological figure Sisyphus endlessly rolling a rock up a hill only for it to roll back down by the end of the day so he had to roll it back up again the next day. Forever.

He looked up. The ominous skies were in a dark mood, with the gloomy clouds looking particular dense and opaque. However, at least it hadn't wept out a dreary downpour.

He felt his spine tingle as he walked inside a parking lot that, just yesterday, served as a battleground against an indescribable floating monstrosity. The stuff that nightmares were made of.

He reassured himself that it didn't really happen anyway. It was all just a dream. Like him killing his bullies with special powers and whatnot.

Florante Galang pushed his idle musings of his friendless existence to the back of his mind as he skipped going to his school service and decided to ride the UV Express Toyota Tamaraw FX (a metered taxi) from Mandaluyong to Makati instead.

His body moving on its own.

***

Fantasy of Evolution

An Urban Fantasy Story by Abdiel

How far will Florante's delusions take him this time?

Disclaimer: This work may reference copyrighted material, the use of which has not always been specifically authorized by the copyright owner. It is believed that this constitutes a fair use of any such copyrighted material as provided for in Section 107 of the US Copyright Law. All copyrighted material referred to in this work belongs to their respective owners. All rights reserved.

***

Chapter 4: Manic Pixie Dream Girl

***

As the Philippines' financial center, Makati served as the city with the highest concentration of local and multinational companies in the nation. It was filled to the brim with banks, department stores, malls, and corporate offices as well as foreign embassies galore.

In particular, Makati's Ayala  Avenue contained the Philippine Stock Exchange's biggest trading floor. The city also ended up becoming Metro Manila's major entertainment and cultural hub for good measure.

As far as Florante Galang knew, Makati was the city of rich kids, business people, and trust-fund babies. Their biggest problem there was finding parking for their cars, since most of its residents owned their own car and rarely used public transportation (mostly taxis and buses).

Galang exited the FX and ended up wandering around the streets of Makati, with only one particular destination in mind.

His own gut feelings or instincts guided him through the unfamiliar labyrinth of an urban jungle.

Dully, with his body on autopilot, he asked around for the street where Jennifer Tolentino or the Tolentino Family lived. Remembering the first time he met her, with her telling him she lived in Makati.

He talked to tricycle drivers, passersby, and security guards in private subdivisions, asking where Jenny's address was (as indicated by a Post-It note he found in his bag), stopping to eat at the local 7-Eleven as a light squall of rain made the pavement glisten from neon lights.

Before Florante knew what had happened, he ended up in front of Jennifer's apartment in Makati again.

Like he sleepwalked over there. Or rather, commuted there instead of went straight back to his home.

Wait, again? Was he there before…? How did he even know it was Jenny's apartment?

Jeez. What was wrong with him?

***

Florante's blurry eyes cleared, only for him to see an apparition of the glasses-wearing girl in the horizon, her hair blowing from an unseen wind.

"Flor," she beckoned him after reaching him, holding a plastic bag containing what he presumed was her dinner.

"It's Florante," he said without thinking.

"I don't care," she answered back with a pout before smirking. "You look like a 'Flor' to me. Be mad. I'm still gonna call you Flor from now on."

"O-Okay." He felt his cheeks grow warm in spite of himself. Yeah, she did kind look cute in this light, didn't she?

He pushed back such nonsensical thoughts, with him trying to remember why he went there in the first place.

"So what brings you here? How'd you know my address? Or my phone number? Did you ask one of our classmates for it?" she asked, which made him become defensive.

Oh right. He called her first before going there. Right? Did he or didn't he…?

"No, no! It's not what it looks like! I mean, I…!" he stammered before blurting out how he found out about the address, not knowing how else to broach the subject of him seeing her name and face on all those older yearbooks in the library.

He became a stuttering mess. Their meeting didn't pan out as smoothly as it would've on T.V. and the movies, with them coming to a mutual understanding of what had happened after the jig was up.

She didn't even bring up how he told her that he remembered their fight with the spaghetti monster. This further convinced him that his fever dream of murdering his classmates was actually just that. A dream.

A bad dream. A nightmare. A power fantasy. That was just him blowing off steam from being bullied by using his own imagination.

His real self could never do such a thing. Right?

Oh wait, why'd he go there at Jenny's place in the first place? He had to explain himself!

He unzipped his bag then produced the photocopies of the yearbooks he got a hold of. One was her graduating in the 1960s. Another was her address from the yellow pages. Another, a Post-It note of her same address.

"I didn't believe the dreams I had were just dreams until I saw this," he said, finding the courage to speak and confront Jenny about his recent discovery, his mind a white haze.

Jennifer palmed her face. "I sure hope you realize just how bad this looks, right? You got my address and phone number from the yellow pages without me knowing then you went to my apartment unannounced."

"…I-I'm sooo sorry," he apologized profusely.

"…You just won't leave things well enough alone, can you?" Jenny said with a resigned sigh. "Come with me, then. Let's talk."

***

She led him to her apartment. They took the stairs instead of the elevator to get there since it was just located on the third floor.

He panted from the effort of climbing stairs but put up a brave front.

He kept his asthmatic wheezing to a minimum after realizing something that sent shockwaves to his whole body.

Florante's heart skipped a beat. This was his first time going to a girl's home.

Or even a classmate's home, to be honest. He didn't have any friends to speak of back in Fatima High, after all.

Florante entered the small rental apartment Jennifer Tolentino lived in, thinking it was about twice the size or more of his bedroom.

He excused himself as he stepped within the threshold of the apartment, looking around for Jenny's parents. However, they weren't there.

'Where are her parents?' he wondered. Were they away on a business trip? Was she sent to live in Makati to get her closer to school? Or maybe she was living with an aunt and uncle? A guardian?

Did her family live in the province? Did she live alone? Were they alone right now…?!

Florante gulped hard before he became aware of his wheezy breathing again. He took out the asthma inhaler inside his bag and took a puff. He then started breathing manually to calm himself down.

'Relax,' he told himself.

Oh boy. What'd he gotten himself into? At the back of his mind, he vaguely wondered if any of what was happening was normal. Wasn't he stalking her by doing this? She mentioned that was the impression he gave.

He then remembered he didn't really call her. That was also a daydream. Why did she somehow expect him to get there…?

Déjà vu filled him inside to the brim. Did he somehow end up here in her apartment because he went there before or something?

"Gabriel," she called out, which awoke him from his stupor.

Gabriel? Oh, right! That was what she called him back in his dream. Or was it a dream? Or was he dreaming right now?

Like he did when he wrote her address on a Post-It note and jumped on the roofs of houses and buildings from Pasig to Makati like he was Spider-Man? Wait, did that even happen?

He struggled to speak and stumbled upon his words.

"Gabriel? As in the Archangel Gabriel?" he asked her without thinking. "Why are you calling me by that name? Isn't he a legendary angel?"

Had he asked the same question before?

Jenny shook her head and patiently smiled, motioning for Florante to sit on the couch of her living room while she made some tea. "You're so picky with names. You don't want to be called Flor or Gabriel. But you're the same guy, in the end."

It was easier to hold a conversation with her in his imagination because in reality he was usually alone and barely talked to anyone.

He went straight to the point, saying things that would've embarrassed him in real life.

"I saw you in my dreams lately."

An awkward pause passed between them, making him regret saying anything.

"Oh. Is that so?" she asked, her lips as flat as a line as she blinked at him several times. Or she was batting her eyelashes at him?

He presumed she had just teased him with a nice dollop of sarcasm. Damn his inability to read social cues!

"Um, I didn't mean it like that," he clarified, feeling his cheeks grow warmer by the minute. "I mean, uh... I'm having déjà vu all over again. I've seen this dream before. We've talked inside your apartment before."

"Really now," she said, taking a sip of the tea she had laid out for the two of them on the table, her hazelnut eyes penetrating through him like the concentrated beam of sunlight from her magnifying lenses for glasses.

Florante turned away, his hand covering his mouth. His face on seeming fire.

A few weeks or months ago, he'd think his capricious feelings for Jenny was a betrayal of his crush on Laura Reyes, the prettiest girl in their class. However, that ship had long ago sailed.

Perhaps him moving on from Laura to Jenny was why he "saved" Jenny from his wrath in his other dream/nightmare where he murdered all his bullies with magical/supernatural powers?

Or maybe he should stop being so shallow? Honestly, falling in love with any pretty girl that treated him nice was pathetic. Ah, who knew? He should get his head out of the gutter. What was he doing there anyway?

More importantly, did they really just fight a gigantic spaghetti monster using elemental superpowers and, uh, super-fast germinating moss?

"Why'd you visit me from out of the blue, Flor?" Jenny asked, with her using that irksome nickname again. However, Florante ignored it.

"…Y-You're much older than you look, right?" he blurted out.

She raised an eyebrow at that statement. "Pardon me? What do you mean?" she asked, adding, "Don't you know it's rude to ask a girl her real age?"

'Only if you're talking to a middle-aged woman,' he thought to himself. However, he could feel the onset of a wheeze in his asthmatic breathing.

"It's true, isn't it? You're not a real teenager."

She dwelled on his words. "What if I'm not?" she asked gently, her voice barely above a whisper. Her dulcet tones sent tingles down his spine.

"So how old are you really? Was that really you in the 1960s yearbook? Are you an immortal? Am I an immortal too?"

"You could say that," she said, to his surprise. "Yes, that is a picture of me. I'm amazed I was able to get away with enrolling in the same school too, but the registrar never bothered checking who the other Jenny Tolentino is."

He shivered in spite of himself.

"They must've thought it's just a funny coincidence. Or that she was a relative of mine with the same name. Or they simply don't remember," Jenny explained.

Florante then asked, "Am I like you? Since you called me an Ophanim back then. I knew that wasn't a dream! You really did pretend to be a high school teen! We're both…!"

He gasped then let out a long exhale to prevent himself from hyperventilating.

"Did what happen the other day… yesterday… whenever it happened, really happen? You remember it too, right? The spaghetti monster?" he dared ask.

She must've known. She just said she received his call, even though he could've sworn he only called her in his dreams. He didn't have the courage to call her for real! Or visit her apartment for real. But here he was now.

Unless this wasn't real either.

Florante racked his brain of vague, forgotten memories of his past dreams, unsure of he was inside yet another dream, only this time more lucid. How lucid was he anyway?

Him mentioning the spaghetti monster incident made her snap back into attention, which jolted him backwards and made him murmur an apology by reflex.Was it something he said?

"So you remember me calling you an Ophanim, huh?" she asked.

He nodded slowly, with him not quite looking at her while he recalled their last significant interaction with one another.

"What's an Ophanim again? A wingless angel, was it? Is it that monster I transformed into where I could see everywhere because I had a hundred eyes or something? Just like that spaghetti monster we fought?"

He tugged at his collar, squirming in his seat at the intense gaze Jennifer gave him. Like fawn shrinking back at the headlights of a speeding truck.

Was he not supposed to carry on their conversation from last time? Did he do something wrong?

She softened her stare, the glint from her glasses disappearing, revealing her almond eyes. "That's right. You and the monster we fought are both Ophanim, Gabriel."

"There you go again," he said. "My name isn't Gabriel. Or Flor. It's Florante. And who are you supposed to be? Michael? Uriel? Or maybe…?"

"I'm Raphael," she said, confirming his suspicions.

"The ninja turtle?" he joked, but he then bowed his head and looked away when he saw her deadpan poker face, murmnring an apology for his lame joke.

"Well, that's… cute," she said of the joke, then asked, "What do you want, Gabriel?"

"…What do you mean?" he asked, inching away from her.

Instead of answering his question, she took another sip of her tea. "Fine. What else do you remember, Florante?"

Her using his full name caught his attention. He answered her question after a deep breath, sensing that she was testing him somehow.

So he told her everything.

***

Florante told Jennifer that he remembered his fever dream of murdering his whole class and destroying most of the school before facing off against Laura Reyes, who also somehow also got her own angelic powers.

This made him idly wonder if she were a wingless angel too. Wait, she had wings, right? She might even be a winged angel instead. He also recalled that Geronimo "Gerry" Jacinto faced off against him with his own superpowers too.

Gerry couldn't be an angel. He was more of a devil. A monster. A demon. His bully and daily tormentor being a holy being of light and goodness just didn't sit well with Florante.

Wait, didn't Jenny refer to the spaghetti creature as a demon instead of an angel…?

Then he talked about how he and Jenny ended up fighting against the tentacled monster from out of nowhere at the school parking lot, with her killing it with enchanted(?) moldy bread with mold that spread across its body like gangrene.

He then finished with him dreaming about going to her place before he ended up doing so anyway at the spur of the moment, resulting in déjà vu.

He left off the part where he wasn't sure if what he saw right then was itself a lucid dream or reality. Maybe because he feared this would result in the dream ending like before, so he kept that last bit to himself.

Let him dream this particular dream of him talking to a girl and being alone with her in her apartment for a little while longer.

"Well…?" he asked. She'd been listening in silence the entire time, with only occasional nods and sips of tea to break his long monologue. "What do you think? Did what happen the other day… yesterday… whenever, really happen? You remember it too, right?"

She then told him, "I'll be honest. I'm not sure if you're Gabriel just yet."

What she just said made Florante even more confused than before; like he was talking some sort of oral exam and happened upon a trick question.

"Pardon me? What do you mean?"

"I suspected you're Gabriel but I'm not yet sure because you're just an Ophanim right now."

He pondered her words. "Meaning?"

With steepled hands, she said, "You're a newborn angel. We call newborn angels Ophanim or Thrones. Your multi-eyed self is your true form for now."

"What do you mean true form? Stop joking! Am I Gabriel or not?"

"Newborn angels don't necessarily have famous identities. However, the truly exceptional ones might graduate to Cherubim or Seraphim level. Based on what you've accomplished before, I suspected you've become the newest avatar of Archangel Gabriel."

Her answer gave him a headache. "So you think I'm Gabriel but you're not sure?"

She shrugged. "You may or may not be the Archangel Gabriel. Right now, you're just a wingless Ophanim who could use your angelic powers while in human form. An egg but not quite the chicken."

"…And you're not an Ophanim yourself?" he asked.

"I've already gotten my wings," she answered with a shrug and a wink. "You still need to earn yours."

"…So what are we exactly?" he dared ask. "What are angels supposed to be?"

Jenny took her time sipping her tea. Since she was about to proverbially spill it.

"Angels. Demons. Devils. Monsters. Deities. Demiurges. Higher beings. Celestials. Different cultures call us different names. We might even be considered gods. Or superheroes."

"Really? Superheroes?"

"…Nah."

"Oh."

Jenny took another sip of her tea with a small smile. She murmured something under her breath that Florante couldn’t quite catch.

"What was that, Jenny?" he asked.

"So did you really intend to kill your classmates back then?" The bespectacled girl asked, the hair on her head starting to dance and twirl from an unseen gust of wind. Weird. "Even if it was a dream, no person normally dreams of something so grisly."

"This again? It's not my fault! It was the dream me that killed Laura! And the rest of our classmates! I would never do that in real life! Stop blaming me for something I subconsciously did!"

"Is that so?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I swear if I knew my dreams had real consequences, I wouldn't even imagine doing that to anyone," he said. "Look at me. I'm pathetic. I wouldn't even hurt a fly or a cockroach."

She sighed and let the awkward silence linger between them for five minutes that felt like eternity.

Not that the squirming, gulping Galang counted the seconds or anything.

"Fine. Screw it. It's my turn to tell you everything. Florante Galang, you're a candidate to becoming the Archangel Gabriel. Congratulations."

***

From a distance, Florante heard the rumble of thunder. He shuddered, but it felt like the rest of the room shuddered with him, which made him wonder if he had just felt an earthquake as well… or was it just him? He couldn't tell.

Did the drizzle outside become a downpour? Oh my. He should've brought an umbrella with him.

"A candidate?" Galang repeated. "Like a presidential candidate? I could be Gabriel or not?"

"Or you could be Schrodinger's Gabriel," Jenny said, giggling. "You're Gabriel and not Gabriel at the same time!"

"Shredder… what?" he asked, unfamiliar with the reference.

She cleared her throat. "Never mind."

"N-No. Tell me what you meant!" he insisted.

"I mean, just read about Schrodinger's Cat from a trivia book, man," she said. "Anyway, we're getting off-topic. Yes, you're a candidate. An avatar. You could become Gabriel. Or some other famous angel. And Ophanim like you can become Gabriel too."

Florante clasped his hands in front of him, seemingly deep in thought. "In my dreams, several of my classmates manifested powers of their own. Are they also angels? Or Ophanims?"

"Very good, Florante," she said, which made him frown at her condescension. "Yes, they're also wingless angels. They're also candidates to becoming Gabriel. If they develop their powers correctly, they could end up awakening as Gabriel themselves, if not other angels, gods, or deities of history."

"Wait, wait, wait. Aside from Gabriel, they… we could become famous angels like Michael, Raphael, or Uriel? Also, by gods and goddesses, do you mean Greek or Roman ones? An Ophanim could become Zeus or Jupiter? How about the Norse All-Father Odin?" Florante queried.

"More or less," came "Raphael's" unhelpful answer.

"And what makes you so sure I'm a Gabriel candidate?"

Jenny shrugged. "I can tell. Or at least the Raphael within me can recognize him from inside you. Whether or not you're worthy to bear his name shall be seen later on."  

The thunderous rumblings arouind them grew louder and harsher, producing a droning sound. However, for some reason, the two both ignored the rampaging elephant in the room.

"Wait," Florante said, his mind going a mile a minute but his mouth still stuck at the starting line. "What must I do to win the, uh, candidacy?"

"Evolve from an Ophanim to a Cherubim and then a Seraphim," Jenny replied. "You must evolve the right way to, or else…"

"…Or else the other candidates will end up winning? Is that it?" he finished her sentence for her. "So how do I evolve to become Gabriel?"

As he said the words, he wondered if he even wanted to become the avatar of an ancient archangel in the first place.

To himself, he wondered, 'Do I even want to be Gabriel?'

It sounded like so much responsibility to live up to the Archangel Gabriel.

Another thing occurred to him. He asked, "And that spaghetti monster you called a demon. Can he become a candidate for Gabriel too? Or is he supposed to be the avatar for Satan, Lucifer, or whoever instead?"

"Ah. You figured that one out too, huh?" she said with a sage nod. "You're quick on the uptake, kid."

"So…?" Florante urged.

Jenny said, "W-ell, in the case of that spaghetti monster, he might've been an Ophanim at one point, but because he let his powers control him instead of the other way around, he ended up becoming demonic instead. A Minion instead of a Throne."

"Minion?" Florante repeated. He didn't like the sound of that. "What the hell are minions? Wait, don't tell me. They're like Ophanims. They're baby demons!"

"That's exactly what they are," confirmed Jenny, who got up from her seat in excitement. "Good call. So there you go. You have the potential to become either a demon or an angel. An Ophanim or a Minion."

Galang then asked, "How can you even tell when, um, someone is an Ophanim or Minion? A demon or angel? They're both monstruous, to be honest."

He also got up from his seat, which made him stumble and grab hold of the nearest furniture to steady himself. Was it vertigo or did the room spun on its own?

He didn't know what was going on.

To be quite frank, his head throbbed with the information overload. So he was an angel that could also be a devil? What? Or rather, the avatar of biblical angels who somehow ended up here in the Philippines? Really?

"I guess that's the point?" Jenny said with a shrug. "A demon is just a fallen angel, after all. Whether they have bird wings or bat wings. Halos or ox horns."

"…Monsters by any other name, am I right?" they heard someone say, like it had access to the P.A. system in their minds.

The two shuddered, feeling a chill deep down their spine. They looked at each other, realizing they both felt and heard the same thing.

"Did you hear that?" asked Jenny.

"Yeah," acknowledged Florante. "What was that?"

Jennifer looked him straight in the eyes. "A demon."

They felt the presence of another. Another one of them. Or perhaps more than one? They couldn't tell.

Unbeckoned, they stood up and headed out of the room, following that dreadful feeling from its source.

***

Just like in Florante Galang's nightmare of decimating Fatima High School and killing all of his bullies—or fellow Gabriel candidates (which included collateral damage like Laura Reyes)—the skies grew dark once more.

As the cliché went, it was a dark and stormy night.

The rain fell in torrents—except at occasional intervals, when it got checked by a violent gust of wind that swept up the streets—rattling along the apartments, condos, and housetops, and fiercely agitating the fluorescent bulbs of the lamps that struggled against the ominous darkness, its fuses ready to burst.

The two angel avatars also heard rumblings from the epicenter from which people on foot and inside vehicles as well as vermin like mice and roaches avoided, resulting in a chaotic mess of a traffic jam and a fleeing crowd on the verge of a stampede.

"Let's go," said Jennifer Tolentino, who took hold of Florante Galang's hand to accompany him towards the horrible something that had caught their attention.

The demonic presence that acted like the source or fault line of an earthquake that shook the world itself right at its core.

Rather than get repelled by the negative vibrations that reverberated into their very bones the closer they got to them like the rest of the living things in flight mode that surrounded them like a sea of humanity or an ocean of life, the two angelic avatars felt somehow magnetized by the dark presence, their heads glowing with an aura unseen by others like ultraviolet light.

An inner brightness spilling over their heads and spreading out from the center like the nuclear fusion of a star, thus making their heads glow with a spherical aura. The corona of the sun. A literal angel halo.

Jennifer's halo glowed a greenish blue hue while Florante's glowed a fluorescent white and sky blue color instead.

This inexplicable aura was what allowed them to part the living sea of mice and men, with people unconsciously or subconsciously avoiding them. This allowed them to make their way to the demonic presence they felt and heard.

To the voice that talked to them right inside their heads.

They ran towards oblivion and uncertainly in an adrenalin rush, but somehow, the virgin Florante couldn't he happier.After all, he was running hand-in-hand with a cute girl. What was there to complain about?

Jenny, whose first impression on Florante was that of a timid mouse, perhaps a talkative gerbil, had always made his heart flutter but in a way that one would find a kitten or puppy adorable.

He wasn't sure what he felt for her now was necessarily a crush.

However, she somehow looked different to him now, with her heaving bosom, glistening face, and reddened cheeks as she brushed her slightly damp hair to the side while running with him.

Like she suddenly transformed into a hot librarian right before his eyes.

In the middle of their sprint, an out-of-breath Florante said from out of the blue, "Thank you."

"…Huh? For what?" Jennifer asked.

"For humoring me and listening to what I have to say," he said in candid honesty. "I appreciate it."

She smiled. "No problem. We're both angel avatars, right? We might as well stick together."

"You bet! I like a girl who understands me but I can confide to as well," he blurted out without thinking, only for him to realize what he just said a little too late. Not knowing how to take it back.

"How am I supposed to respond to that?" asked the sheepish Jenny, who looked away and hid her eyes with the glint of her glasses.

She then stopped running hand-in-hand with him and let go of his hand, which startled him.

However, before he could apologize (again), she beckoned him to keep following her before she began running again, which he did.

He kept trailing her from behind as he resisted the urge to keep looking at her behind.

Soon, they realized there were no longer any people around them. Or any signs of life. No birds. No bugs. No signs of life. Nothing.

The stalls and stores were empty. Completely evacuated. No one dared remain in the exact direction they went: A pulsating pitch blackness.

"Do you feel that?" asked Jenny. "The heat from your face? Your head?"

"Y-Yeah," said Florante, but he had another type of hotness in mind, his eyes avoiding the jiggle of her heaving bosom as she ran towards the black maelstrom.

He had a feeling she had just changed the subject from what they were talking about earlier.

"That's your halo. Your spiritual energy. Your aura. That's where your powers come from as an avatar of Gabriel," she explained. "You weren't able to detect it before, but you can feel it now, right?"

"Yeah, I think I can," he said with a wheeze and a gulp that turned into a coughing fit, unable to meet Jenny's curious gaze.

"It's because you're getting used to your powers now… Wait. We're here."

He then looked up after she stopped from her run. They'd reached their destination: A church.

"Where are we? What church is this?" Florante asked.

"Guadalupe Church," Jenny answered.

The Guadalupe Church or Parish, also known as the Nuestra Señora de Gracia Church, was a Baroque Roman Catholic church located in Makati City, Philippines.

Florante would later learn that the building was once occupied by both the Filipino revolutionaries of the 1890s and American forces of the 1900s during the Philippine-American War. In World War II, it served as the garrison for the Japanese invaders.

It now currently stood as one of Makati's premier tourist attractions as well as one of Metro Manila's most popular wedding destinations. Had Florante learned of this earlier, it would've made his head spin. He certainly envisioned marrying Jenny in the middle of their run.

However, something more noticeable than the church itself caught the pair's attention.

A tornado of blackness, ash, and what could be best described as tendrils of sentient smoke moved between them and the church ruins.

A crawling chaos. A grotesque mockery of reality beyond comprehension.

Again, like before with his confrontation with Laura Reyes or the parking lot spaghetti monster, Florante was at a loss for words describing what was before him.

This new creature was another indescribable eldritch abomination straight out a child's nightmares. Or even man's primal fears.

The formless, mindless disaster then coalesced into what looked like a tall, lean man made of shadow. He, if it were a he, had neither beard nor hair. He was instead an ebony cesspool. The Black Death personified. A humanoid typhoon.

His own tarry aura melted into a shapeless robe made of a heavy dark fabric. Like his aura had become his own clothes that converged unto him into the singularity made from a dying star.

His dense living black hole seemed to drown out and absorb what little light surrounded them, like waves of the Dead Sea or nimbus clouds blocking sunlight or moonlight. This made the comparatively faint halos of "Raphael" and "Gabriel" stand out more.

Although he was as horrible in appearance as an Ophanim, Florante couldn't even begin to imagine describing the shadowy tendril man as anything other than demonic. A Minion.

"H-Hey, you wouldn't happen to have one of those moldy pieces of bread with you by any chance, right?" Florante half-joked, half-expecting himself to need to transform into a Throne to match the power of this Minion before them.

The disembodied voice from before then spoke, but both Jenny and Florante realized somehow that it didn't enamate from the creature before them. Rather, it came from some other source.

"Pardon me, but I can't stand to look at this farce anymore," said a sharp-dressed foreign man—a Caucasian person with a sharp nose, even sharper spectacles,  and auburn hair—in English.

"Who are you?" Florante called out, surprising himself with his own bravery when talking to the scary foreign stranger.

The man in the business suit—formalwear known to Filipinos as an Americana—ignored him, though. This businessperson that looked like a Makati expatriate or even a visiting company CEO addressed Jennifer instead.

"Are you honestly indulging the boy's delusions until now, Raphael? How cruel of you. You know he's no angel. He's actual more of a demon, to be honest. With destructive power like his, he should be on our side."

"Mammon," said Jennifer, naming the demon before them. "Stay out of this. He's mine."

This made Florante jerk his head and stare at Jenny by reflex, his cheeks burning at her bold proclamation. 'I-I'm hers?!' he thought.

Aloud, Galang asked her, "You know him? Wait, his name is mamon (Filipino sponge cake)? Seriously?"

She rolled her eyes. "Not mamon. Mammon. The demon Mammon."

"Tell him the truth about himself already or I will," Mammon threatened with a smirk. "I'm getting impatient."

Thusly, Florante shot a Thunderbolt at Mammon.

A pinprick or lasebeam of light producing a vaccuum of emptiness around it, rendering the surroundings into rubble with a loud sonic boom.

The businessman cackled and stopped the supersonic assault with one hand, transforming to a huge-headed goblin with a long nose, ram horns, and a stogie for the briefest of instances before returning to his avatar's human form.

"Flor!" exclaimed Jenny in spite of herself. "What are you doing? You're no match for him right now!"

"Well now. I see you've convinced the young lad to side with you using your avatar's… feminine charm, Raphael! Bravo. You're quite the devilish temptress, if I do say so myself. Like Jezebel. You'd make a fine demoness yourself.."

Despite being fully clothed, Jennifer covered herself with her hands by reflex and shame after hearing Mammon's remark. "You're such a pig."

"Well of course, I am!" said Mammon with a smug grin. "I'm a demon."

The halo of the Archangel Gabriel's avatar flared like a ring of fire or a celestial ball of gas and plasma, his bright corona traveling all over his body and enveloping him in a white and blue light while he crackled with arcs of electrity.

Finally, the demon Mammon addressed Florante. "I don't blame you for siding with her, kid. Raphael's avatar is a pretty little thing, not going to lie. However, you were born ten thousand years too early to take on the likes of me. I've forgotten more than you can even remember."

With his arms crossed, Mammon floated away. Barely baring his fangs at Florante's best shot. None the worse for wear.

No wait, he hadn't hit him with his absolute best shot yet.

Galang then summoned a bolt of lightning at himself to reenergize his body with millions of volts of electricity while increasing the potency of his offense. Remenbering how to control his powers from his dream of destroying his bullies and taking on a flying spaghetti monster that was apparently an Ophanim/Minion like himself.

A wingless angel or a hornless devil. Good or evil. Those were the two choices for a Throne such as him.

Just then, as suddenly as him shooting a Thunderbolt at Mammon like an arrow, the hornless devil in the form of a personified maelstrom of pulsating darkness diverted its full attention towards Florante and unleashed its irresistable might unto him like an endless deluge.

Unlike Mammon, this shadow man came at him in full force.

'…Oh boy. Here we go.'

He was making the correct choice siding with Jennifer Tolentino, right?

She was an angel. One of the good guys. And the demons were the bad guys every time since the beginnning of time.

Right?

***

The lean, mean shadow man with gangly spider limbs and a pulsating aura that emanated from his head to toe like smog or smoke made strange clicking noises as he shifted positions with his strange jittery dash.

The crawling chaos didn't speak and bore no trace of an expression on his dark face. This belied the whirlpool of bone-crushing force he brought with him as his mere dash forward sent the Gabriel avatar buckling and reeling.

Fortunately, Galang's halo of blue-white light created a dome-shaped wind shield composed of gyroscoping jetstreams and slipstreams that absorbed the brunt of the Minion's force. Vacuum tornadoes ripped apart the church along with blockbuster ligtning strikes.

This tall man whom Florante bore no ill will towards. This Minion of the Archdemon he truly wanted to blast to Kingdom Come, Mammon. This Ophanim. This Minion. This was a fellow… angel/demon avatar. Just like him.

Who was to say he wouldn't end up like him? A mindless beast to be hunted down by angels. A fallen angel. A demon. A devil.

Was this really his war to wage anyway? Did it even matter if he chose the side of the angels or the demons? Was this what he asked for after esentially committing social suicide? Wasn't he biting off more than he could chew, foolishly facing off against devils and demons?

Florante charged bolts of high-voltage lightning on one hand and bolts of thunder-inducing energy bullets on the other hand then hurled them one after another at the tentacled ebony monster.

Biting his lower lip at the frustration of not being able to shoot that manipulative bastard Mammon instead.

Why were they fighting again? To become avatars to millennia-old angels and demons? To become pawns on a chess game they didn't ask to be a  part of?

They were practically just the same pawns, right? It was implied that this crawling chaos was also human before, like him.

If his dream of killing his bullies wasn't a dream—if none of these fantastic events were dreams—then his wish to be helpless no more just came with a heavy caveat. A Monkey's Paw wish, if you would.

Unlike the flying spaghetti monster that could regenerate itself endlessly, the crawling chaos before them and its black pulsating mass of tendrils responded quite differently to Florante's typhoon onslaught.

Even though he showcased denseness as black and bottomless as the ocean depths, his great mass or "halo" of tidal waves that densely compacted themselves into humanoid form remained unmoved by Galang's cyclone winds and plasma blasts.

No wonder Jenny didn't use quick-growing mold spores or an acorn to attack this Minion. How could any of those weaponized plants stand a chance against this force of nature?

Maybe this time, Florante had no choice but to revert to his true Ophanim form and face off against the Minion as force of nature against force of nature. Monster against monster.

"No, Florante! Don't…!" said Raphael's avatar to Gabriel's avatar, her body seemingly pinned to the wall. "Don't change into your Ophanim form and lose yourself! Or you might become a Minion yourself! A mindless beast controlled by your own powers! That's what Mammon wants!"

The bespectacled young (or young-looking) girl's hair ended up toussled by unseen winds or some sort of force of nature like gravity that blew everyone else away like a hurricane.

And indeed, before Florante noticed it, he had started to transform, his human form disappearing and reforming into a gyroscope filled with rings adorned with flaming eyes once more.

"Since Eden, no more could man have wings to bear him to paradise. Henceforth, he walked," said Mammon telepathically to both Jenny and Florante.

The two looked heavenwards at the smug demon watching over them from high above his proverbial pedestal. Right now, he lived in their heads rent-free and they loathed having him invade their thoughts like that.

"However, this man has discovered the path to recovering his lost wings. Will he rise to paradise or be another fallen angel, his feathered bird wings turned into leathery bat wings? His halo turned into horns?"

God dammit. How was Florante supposed to fight against this monster any other way than become a monster himself?

On that note, why shouldn't he be a monster? What was wrong with becoming a Minion over an Ophanim anyway? What was the difference between one monster over another?

Nevertheless, because Jennifer told him not to transform into his Ophanim form, he didn't.

The shadow creature then came upon Galang's dithering, fluctuating form that went from human to Throne and back agaain like a flickering light with his own crashing black waves of dense aura, threatening to swallow Florante under its immense mass compacted within a lean form of a tall humanoid tentacle being.

Galang resisted the irresistable, turning his sky-blue halo into a country-sized pacific storm that made the crawling chaos' oceanic depths roil, churn, and bubble. Like the desperate cyclone howling back at the black sea, which only made its angry waters angrier.

Florante didn't ask for this. He wanted to stop being socially awkward, make friends, and for his bullies to leave him alone, not get new supernatural enemies to fight and deal with the burden of waging someone else's war!

Meanwhile, Mammon again spoke to their minds. Toying with them.

"Asking a woman if she lives nearby is often a predatory tactic. That info can expose so much. If you're around the area a lot, especially alone. Or if you're isolated and from out of town and vulnerable."

Both Florante and Jenny said, "What?" at the same time, their heads turning to look at Mammon again.

"LIGHT ARRAY!"

The embarrassment Florante Galang felt from being called out by the devil himself fueled his halo enough to finally release the much-delayed pinpoint bursts of concentrated pure energy he'd been gathering all that time.

The energy projectiles shot out like explosive bullets from his five fingertips, which finally decimated the humanoid maelstrom off of him.

Unlike with the regenerating spaghetti monster, his Light Array shots actually obliterated the maelstrom of shadows, turning them into stains on the pavement from the purifying brightness of his holy light.

That was Florante's best shot. The special technique he created from scratch to shoot at all his bullies at the same time with a wave of his hands and fingers.

At least now he could use his powers in a less shameful way: To defeat a monster that threatened to destroy the city instead of petty yet deadly revenge against his meanest classmates.

***

Florante screamed to the heavens and the unseen Mammon, "I didn't stalk her! O-Or I didn't mean to! I was following a lead on why I've been dreaming the nightmares I've been dreaming, okay!? Seeing her face on an old yearbook was suspicious! I had no malicious intentions!"

They both couldn't see Mammon at that point—the coward made himself scarce—but they could hear the smirk in his voice. "But I didn't specifically say you stalked Raphael, Ophanim. You came up with that conclusion. Methinks the lady doth protest a bit too much."

Galang's head almost twisted off of his neck like a bottle cap as he shot a glance at an out-of-breath Jenny, her hair a mess and her clothes disheveled. Meanwhile, his own stomach was in knots.

He gulped and muttered, "I meant no harm, Jenny! I didn't want to kill our classmates, believe me. I-I didn't intend to stalk you either! I-It just… came off that way. B-Because I wanted to know more about what's going on with me, and you're the only other person I know who's like me…!"

Mammon then added, "Literally you cannot risk divulging such information to him, Raphael. A man is a threat. A man approaching you alone is a threat. You should've known better. This is a woman's constant reality."

After a deep breath, Jenny adjusted her glasses, which magnified her hazel eyes. She then smiled at Florante and said, "Don't worry, Flor. I understand. You didn't mean any harm, right? It was all a harmless dream to you."

That smile. That damn smile. Florante wanted to protect that smile.

Mammon's disembodied voice then snarled at the pair.

"…You actually believe his lies, Raphael? He thought it was all a dream, so that makes it okay? By now, he should've figured out that it was more than a dream. That it wasn't manslaughter, it was murder with intent. A massacre. He's also a stalker for good measure. Stop excusing his crimes."

"I've just about had enough of you, man! SHUT UP!" said Florante, his fingertips again burning with blue and fluorescent white electric light.

"Stop lying to yourself first, kid. You wanted to kill your classmates. You reveled in every death. Even the ones who weren't your bullies. If you weren't sick in the head, you would've just humiliated them as revenge for them humiliating you. That's why you dreamed that dream. It was the first time in your pathetic life that you felt in control. Give in to that desire and set yourself free!"

"Show yourself, demon!" Just one shot (or five or ten shots) of the Light Array was all he needed. He just wanted to land just one right on Mammon's smug, beak-nosed face.

"Look at you go. You feel brave now, don't you? Like you're Raphael's personal Knight in Shining Armor. Or her lost puppy. But she knows the truth about you. How dangerous you are. So she's telling you everything you want to hear for now."

"Stop being such a pathetic coward and fight!" Florante said. Not really listening to a word Mammon said while he continued to gather energy from his fingertips in concentrated pinpoints of light.

"Kid, you've got it bad for her, don't you? But she's just using you. She'll learn soon enough that you can't have sympathy for the devil. That what you did is unforgivable. Don't you know, kid? We live in a society—" Mammon started.

"No, you live in a society! I live in my meticulously crafted daydream universe that I've been using as a coping mechanism since childhood!" said Florante.

Mammon chuckled. "No. You're a back-of-the-class loser who has gone on a power trip and became mad with power."

Alas, the demon's plan of buying the crawling chaos time to recuperate worked. The shadow man returned in full force. Or rather, the shadow men cometh.

The tall, dark, and devilishly bleak Minion manifested himself into multiple avatars of all shapes and sizes.

When he got aethered by Gabriel's embarrassment-fueled Light Array, he regrouped his atomized particles and spread them across Makati towards the nearest of its fleeing denizens, turning them into his own avatars.

What the crawling chaos lacked in healing powers, he more than made up for his ability to take over the bodies of others like some sort of black lung virus. The black plague made flesh and bone.

Florante willed himself to shoot at the numerous avatars, even though when they got blown apart, they didn't atomize into tendrils but instead burst like sacks of blood and guts.

The Light Array made short work of most of them, but that technique took too long to recharge, so he had to settle for Lightning Strikes, Lightning Bolts, and supersonic Thunderbolts for the rest of the avatar army.

He soon realized he wasn't killing the crawling chaos but innocent people.

These new avatars of the crawling chaos were collateral damage. Men, women, the elderly, and children—entire families—running for their lives up until the humanoid typhoon took over their bodies and turned them into shadow people like him.

They'd been morphed into blackened homunculus or zombies puppeteered by the crawling chaos himself.

At first, dealing with the "infected" avatars of the crawling chaos felt like shooting fish in a barrel, but then they displayed bizarre attributes.

Some flew with hand glider wings. Others crawled into corners like roaches. There were those that merged to form a super muscular shadow avatar that tanked Florante's Light Array, Thunderbolts, and Lightning Bolts.

From there, Florante understood.

This man-shaped maelstrom. This walking void containing the vast cosmos unto himself who could affect mystic energies, both demonic and cosmic, on an undefined level.

As World War II veteran and American civil rights activist Medgar Evers said,  "You can kill a man but you can't kill an idea."

This Minion was as unkillable as an idea. And just as dangerous.

"When a man possesses this much power, he does not seek redemption," said Mammon of the crawling chaos before Florante.

***

"Susmaryosep!"

Florante had just told Mammon he wasn't an intentional murderer (or stalker), but now here he was again, forced to murder innocents to keep this shadowy humanoid typhoon in check.

He clung to the vague hope that like with the flying spaghetti monster incident, everything would go back to normal after the crawling chaos's defeat. That everything could be undone. Like waking from a bad dream. Like all of this wasn't really real.

If he beat the Minion, he could revert everything back to their original state, like it didn't actually happen, and save the people he'd just killed to get to the humanoid typhoon. Or the walking typhoid fever.

However, that was all one big "if".

"Change into your Ophanim form. As you are now, you're no match against the Minion," teased the coward Mammon. "Unleash your full power like he has. I dare you, Gabriel."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? You dumb bastard," cursed Florante. "You can't fool me! I bet you convinced this poor Ophanim to turn himself into a Minion the exact same way!"

"So?" said the brazen Mammon. "What if I did? The results speak for themselves. You can't even touch him. Face him with your full power or never wake up from this nightmare."

After deftly avoiding hit after hit from the shadow avatars, Galang got clipped by a five-clawed strike. That was all it took. It went downhill from there.

The distraction made him miss several of his shots, which allowed a number of the shape-shifting zombies of darkness to evade his suppressive fire so as to claw, stab, and bite at him.

Desperately, he wielded a lightning bolt like a sword whip, slicing and dicing the nearest of the undead horde of the crawling chaos's hive-minded avatars.

He pushed them back with his halo's electric vacuum shield, only to buckle under the pressure of an outright stampede of shadow creatures. The weight of hundreds felt like the weight of millions due to the densely packed particles of the Minion's cosmic selves.

His panicked wheezes became a full-blown asthma attack as he drowned in black avatars that clawed, grabbed, bit, slashed, stabbed, and lacerated him to helpless shreds.

At this point, even if he willed himself to turn into his "Be Not Afraid, Child!" form of a frightful multi-eyed Ophanim, it'd be too late.

Then, just as Florante was about to get swallowed by the oily tidal wave of inhumanity that the Minion of Maelstrom mind-controlled like individual puppets, a mango tree suddenly grew and blocked their upsurge in a landslide of broken branches, splinters, leaves, and mango fruits.  

Once again, Raphael's human avatar Jennifer Tolentino saved Florante's life.

She jumped and slid across the unbroken branches of the giant mango tree that served as her wooden barrier between them and the Minion's horde of mind-controlled minions (ironic) that he turned into clones of his wriggly dark self.

"Are you okay, Flor?"

"Y-Yeah, th-thanks for saving me. Again."

How shameful. He was supposed to be her Knight in Shining Armor, and here he was serving as her Damsel in Distress instead.

He didn't even have the energy to correct her nickname of him. He might as well be a "Flor". He might as well have that girly name.

She turned towards him, her green halo and her hazel eyes shining like gems full of light, and unfurled two green-feathered bird wings from her back. The thing that caught Florante's eyes though was her smile.

A sad smile that could break anyone's heart in two.

"Flor, don't be a hero. You don't have to force yourself just to make people acknowledge you," she said.

"W-What…?" he trailed off. "B-But I thought that's what I'm supposed to do as an angel! An Ophanim! I'm one of you, right? Why can't I be a hero?"

She shook her head. "When you do that, you end up blaming yourself, blaming other people, and feeling jealous of everyone. But still, it doesn't have to be like that. Even if people don't acknowledge you, you just need to be someone that you can be proud of!"

"I don't understand," he said.

She silenced him with a quick peck on the forehead.

"You don't have to fight. This isn't your war. You have no quarrel with this Minion, don't you? Even with Mammon, you're only picking a fight against him for my sake. Just be a good boy, okay? Maybe this time, when you wake you up from this dream, you'll decide to forget about all this nonsense and move on with your life."

"…." He could only stare at her cherubic, angelic form, dumbfounded into silence. He later realized that her kiss had healed all the wounds he'd sustained from battle and reenergized him at the same time.

Like man-sized termites, the shape-shifting avatars of the crawling chaos scratched, gnawed, masticated, ripped, tore, and outright drilled right into the gigantic mango tree trunk they'd crashed into, turning it into sawdust in their wake.

She then fell like a hatchling from her nest, her green feathers flying everywhere as she let the horde tear her apart in Florante's stead. Cannibalizing her, to his horror.

"NOOOOOOOO!" Galang screamed himself raspy, his eyes flooded with tears, his fingertips glowing with rivulets of bright-blue energy, his halo shining with multiple arcs of electrical power so elaborate they looked like ancient root systems.

***

Florante Galang realized early on that he really was no hero, much less a superhero.

The first chance he got superpowers, he used it for petty revenge against his bullies, his mindless massacre resulting in his high school crush becoming collateral damage.

He really shouldn't be entrusted with destructive abilities like the Light Array, really.

The realization horrified him, but he honestly wouldn't get any real satisfaction from beating a stronger foe like the crawling chaos or the flying spaghetti monster like he did when he killed his bullies in a fever dream.

He was a coward who used his powers against bullies who couldn't fight back as vengeance to how they bullied him into submission when he couldn't fight back either.

He was no better than the bullies who picked on him.

When faced with the prospect of sacrificing life and limb against a monster that threatened the lives of the whole city of Makati, he came up short.

He had no personal stakes on the matter, so he wasn't as motivated to becoming a hero.

This dark creature didn't bully him so he had no quarrel against him. He had no driving force to beat him. They were actually the same—an Ophanim and a Minion thrust into a fight they had no dog in.

Even when the Minion began using innocent bystanders against Florante, this merely horrified the young Ophanim instead of build his heroic resolve.

Ultimately, Galang was a selfish person who only cared about himself. He was an even bigger coward than Mammon, who became a disembodied voice in their heads that mocked them all the while.

Jenny was right. He didn't have to fight. He had no personal stakes here.

However, there was something she said before she did her own heroic sacrifice that stuck with him.

"Even if people don't acknowledge you, you just need to be someone that you can be proud of!"

Someone he could be proud of, huh? How could he do that? How could he become someone he could be proud of even without the acknowledgement of others? Should he become a martyr?

Florante looked down from his perch atop the gigantic "rotting" mango tree that Jenny had used her life and healing factor on to induce its gigantic growth. Saw the avatars eat Jenny so that not even her bones were left.

There it was. There was his personal stakes. With tears in his eyes, his powers began to grow anew. He knew what he must do.

Like a dying typhoon turning into a low pressure area, only to get a second wind and become a super typhoon as it moved into the moisture-rich tropics that enhanced its shower and thunderstorm activity.

He then saw that the avatars that consumed Raphael's avatar had the dark presence of the crawling chaos leave them. Evicted or otherwise exorcised out of them. Her green aura spread across them all, healing them of the Black Plague that infected them.

This maelstrom of darkness then converged into a singular man. The original avatar that served as a candidate for whoever demon wanted to take control of him.  

Before this living, walking shadow creature could get his hands on more avatars, Florante struck at the unkillable thing as immortal as a concept.

How did one kill an idea or a movement before it could spread across the populace like wildfire?

Practical application. A dose of reality.

Ideas never panned out without a hitch in real life. Let it naturally progress and die in absurdity when applied to reality.

"Light Array!"

Thusly, Florante and Jennifer killed the idea of this Minion by not letting its dark influence spread across anymore innocent bystanders and victims then isolating him inside his one avatar, feeding it with energy until it burst.

Like letting a fire burn itself out before it could spread and raze everything in its path.

"Light ARRAY! LIGHT ARRAY! LIIIIIGHT ARRAAAAY!!!"

The blasts of energy chipped away at the concentrated density of the indefinable cosmic mass densely packed into the shape and sentience of a tall, lean man.

The glowing, electrified Florante then pierced through the layers and layers of negative energy in order to scream at the maelstrom, "Who are you? What are you doing? Why are you doing this? Do you really want to hurt all these people? Did Mammon put you up to this?"

The pacific storm that was Florante blasted the nimbus man with lightning and thunder, converging around him like he was the low pressure area about to become a typhoon himself.

"Did you think the same thing I had when we started fighting? Did you also wonder why we're fighting and if it's worth doing this in the first place?"

After blowing through layer upon layer of darkness and density, like a self-contained black hole made flesh, Galang then went face-to-face with… a kid. Just another kid like him. A tall kid, but a kid nonetheless.

They floated there in the eye of the storm that was Hurricane Galang.

A Minion facing an Ophanim, with both of them wondering what exactly was the difference between them.

Florante grinned at the stranger and said, "Let's stop this nightmare, okay? Maybe it's about time you woke up."

The darkness that surrounded them then shattered like glass, revealing an untouched city and a perfectly intact Guadalupe Church. Just like what had happened with the defeat of the spaghetti creature.

…Become a person he could be proud of, huh? Maybe he could try becoming that after all.  

***

Flor awoke outside the village or street where Jenny's apartment was located. He hadn't met up with her yet or gone to her apartment. Everything that had happened so far was just a fantasy.

Dammit. So even that was just a dream? A daydream, this time.

He then remembered the "last time" they ended up in her apartment and what they were talking about before they were cut off.

Oh, did he have one of those lucid dreams again? The ones you could control consciously? Or was he even awake now?

He'd been having all sorts of dreams lately, probably to escape the hell that was his teenage life as a bullied boy.

The dreams were happening more and more often. It was harder and harder to tell what was real and what wasn't until he did so in hindsight.

"Wait. What the hell am I doing?" he said to himself aloud, shook his head, and left without going to Jennifer Tolentino's apartment.

"Susmaryosep," he murmured under his breath, feeling like he'd somehow dodged a bullet for some reason.

***

The next day went on easier than the last, but only because Florante Galang knew what to expect of today this time around.

His classmates would either avoid him like the plague or talk behind his back as he went about his friendless existence in First Year Section St. Francis of Assisi at Fatima High School.

Oh well. At least his fantasies and fever dreams were interesting enough to jut down in a dream journal, right? Even though his reality was as banal as it could be.

Jennifer Tolentino and Laura Reyes used to sit near him in class, but they now sat elsewhere once their homeroom teacher and class advisor rearranged their seats.

He ended up with some dude who never talked to him sitting in front of him.

During recess, he went to the library instead of the cafeteria today because he usually sat in his lonesome these days.

His usual friends… acquaintances perhaps… well, the people he sat with every lunch, the Dead Kids… were off doing their own things separately. Weirdoes being weirdoes.

He should speak though. He went to the library during lunch. He was a weirdo himself.

He also tended to avoid bumping into the group consisting of Laura and her friends or, much worse, Gerry Jacinto and his barkada (gang).

He was used to classmates and the student body at large looking through him as though he weren't there, like he were a ghost.

However, for some reason, he felt like he had eyes all around him today, but whenever he stared back at people instead of the floor or his feet as usual, they ended up looking elsewhere. As if averting his gaze.

Was there something on his face or uniform? He hoped he didn't do anything embarrassing again. However, such concerns left his mind after his trip at the library.

He had one thing in mind. One person. Jenny Tolentino.

Granted, Florante still had his photocopies of the phone book page full of "Tolentinos" and other "T" names as well as the yearbook page featuring a look-alike Jennifer Narcissa Tolentino.

…Man, he was acting really creepy again, wasn't he?

How shallow was his crush on Laura Reyes that he ended up pining for Jenny Tolentino instead? Ah, whatever.

Crushes were supposed to be shallow attraction, right? You needed to really know someone to develop deeper feelings for them. Or so he heard. He didn't believe in love at first sight, although he had his share of, uh, infatuation at first sight.

Florante simply found Jenny cute because he knew her and they shared something in common. Also, she had puppy dog eyes behind those wide-rimmed glasses.

Why hadn't he looked at her that way before? Must be because of Laura. And because she might be a fellow angel.

Or at least his imagination viewed her as such.

Maybe this was him finally giving up on Laura in favor of Jenny. Maybe.

***

To Be Continued…

Florante starts having issues in being able to tell what's real and what's fantasy as he continues to dream up plot scenarios for his comic book and uses it to retreat from how miserable his real life has gotten.

Farewell, Abdiel