#it feels like some kind of biblical creature slipping up when i do that

[a-crawling-chaos]

latin and spanish writing look virtually the same to me so sometimes i'll just unthinkingly translate latin

its so great

[sinsandwizards]

Twin Headcanons

(Mostly demon form stuff)

- I subscribe to the idea that the twins are a sort of symbiotic entity. And it manifests in a lot of really weird ways?

- One of the more obvious ones would be You vs Name

- If MC walks up the Beel and said “here I brought you your favorite” and gave Beel the sushi he would say “wow thanks my fav!!!” But if they said “Beel I brought your your favorite sushi” Beel would mention how sushi is actually Belphie favorite food

- But thank you so much for buying him some!!

- I feel like the fandom sometimes forgets but Beel and Belphie are not always harmoniously getting along. They clearly love each other and are close and do their best to understand each other let’s be honest they are both kind of weirdos… (what I’m saying is let them get into little stupid tiffs it is funny and endearing)

DEMON FORM(S)

- Together they form the biblical behemoth. Which for those who don’t know means big and powerful beast and is speculated to be an ancient and huge ancestor to the hippo

- The best way I could describe the concept is Belphie is the nervous system and Beel is the muscle

- Belphie is obviously the brains and know how of the operation but without Beels practicality and emotional/ situation intelligence nothing could get done

- Belphie when transformed looks just like a free floating nervous system with synapses that look just a bit like stars. He is disturbingly large, he could wrap himself around the house of lamentation easily

- As he is always thinking the synapses fire constantly giving off electricity and heat. And as intimidating as that is he is entirely unable to actually do anything but… ponder

- Beel comes in as the physical rest of the best. Without Belphie he is collapsed and without muscle tone. Well unless he really feels the wants to more or less just rumble. Just shaking his immediate vicinity. But since he is the physical to Belphies spiritual it cannot effect anything he is not touching if that makes sense

- Behemoth exists in scripture to remind humanity of its smallness and sort of humble the biblical Job. In the immediate post Lilith mourning period I could see the combined Behemoth going to earth just to terrorize the humans. And while the immediate instinct would say this is Belphies idea, I think the idea would have appealed more to Beel at first. Humbling and interpersonal relationships (lol the interpersonal relationship between you and the giant monster about to destroy you village) are more his wheelhouse.

- Behemoth is noted for being big and powerful but I can’t find much about it’s specific horrible deeds. I think this was Beel showing his resentment at the situation to humble those around him to the power of himself and his family now that they were no longer duty bound to father. So Beel was the one to both start and stop this reign of terror on the human realm.

- I think he was the second to join back up with Lucifer to be a family again and function together (first being mammon). While Belphie was physically there he would join them in more than a physical way much later

- They cannot live or function without the other

- In and out a demon form I feel they cannot live without each other. As they are the same creature I see Belphie as an energy sink while Beel works to try and fill that deficit. That is why I also agree with Belphie being some sort of narcoleptic. Energy just kind of… slips out of him

Do you guys feel the symbiotic interpretation takes away from the sacrifice of Lilith in favor of protecting Belphie? Maybe Beel feels bad because he feels it is selfish to act in self preservation before helping others (his sole purpose in life was being a body guard before) and as DEVASTATED as Belphie is perhaps he can see the pragmatic nature of saving yourself before trying to help others. Not to imply he doesn’t stay up at night arguing back and forth in his own mind after Beel is asleep

[boywivlove]

| The Celestial Ones | 01

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x reader

Genre:Supernatural soulmates AU | Angst | Fluff | Smut

Summary : When you meet Jeon Jungkook its an instant connection between you both and you fall hard for him without really knowing him. And when strange things start happening around you, and Jungkook starts acting even stranger, you cant help but think about what hes hiding. What you discover about him, and about yourself throws you into a whole new world of supernatural creatures, magic and a fight for your survival. With Jungkook at the centre of the fight, but is he a friend, or has he been a foe all along?

Warnings : descriptions of violence, torture, blood and gore | some strong language | descriptions of smut |

Authors Note: finally, I FINALLYYY got this chapter out, Im hoping to make this a multi chapter fic so Id love to know what you guys think!! Enjoy!! (((ALL GIF CREDIT TO ORIGINAL MAKERS!)))

The weather had been horrid for the past week and a half, for the middle of August you'd expect there to still be glorious sunshine, not hours upon hours of heavy rain and dull grey skies. 

It was a Wednesday morning as you made your way to your new job, your worn camo jacket did little to fend off the raindrops already starting to soak into your clothing. You had brought a spare change of clothes just in case, and seeing as you couldn't afford a new jacket right now, it was always the case. 

The bookshop slash small coffee house you worked at was on the corner of the street, nestled nicely in between a florist and an old watch repair shop. It was a beautiful old building, the brown bricks and hanging baskets stood out between the different watches and floral arrangements on either side. The coffee shop part was located in the front of the shop, and the bookshelves were all stored along the walls and the rows upon rows of bookcases set up in the store. 

The bell dinged above you as you opened the door and shook the rain off your umbrella, the heat from the radiators hitting you instantly, making your cheeks tingle as they adjusted to the change in temperature. you made your way to the back of the store where the staff room was located, greeting your boss on the way.

The shop was run by an odd guy to say the least, Min Yoongi, he was a strange one. He kept to himself and spent his time in the store room organising the inventory. He was quiet, usually looking sullen and brooding, but as you'd learned, that was just his `resting face` as he put it. He looked like he’d had enough of you, but he was kind to the bone. Kind, but just...down right odd. 

While Yoongi was only a little older than you, you found he had somewhat of an obsession with reading. Now, as a bookstore owner that was understandable, but some of the books he read and collected were weird. 

His office was just across from the staff room, and occasionally you'd get to peek in, seeing shelves and his desk full of old tattered looking books, He seemed to collect old biblical texts and books on the occult, demonic manuscripts and what not. To each there own right? 

On the completely other side of the spectrum was the barista boy, Jung Hoseok. This guy was a bundle of sunshine. He greeted almost every customer who came in, and always had a cup of coffee waiting for you and Yoongi when you arrived. From what you’d heard from him, he met Yoongi when he was also down on his luck, and when Yoongi offered him a job, he immediately took it, and six years later he was still there, making coffee and serving smiles. And now here you where, the third addition to this odd family.

It was 8pm when you finally shut shop for the day, keying in the security code and locking the doors, you left the bookshop as the rain from the morning still hadn't gone away, making your way towards the bus stop, the liveliness of the streets died out the closer you got, the only bus you could catch home stopped quite a distance away from the busy high streets and various food stalls.

As you walked quietly, you started to feel a sense of unease, your skin erupting in goosebumps that the cool wind definitely didn't cause. Turning your head sightly you caught sight of them. Three guys, tall broad shadows that seemed to be hovering a couple of feet behind you. You inhaled a deep breath, trying to calm the rising nervous feeling in the pit of your stomach, quickening your pace little by little. You looked back after a few more feet, still there, all three of them, the one on the right was closest to you, and he seemed to be matching your pace, the other two caught up to him as they walked behind you.

Feeling your gut twist you try to breathe slowly, in and out of your nose to calm yourself as you see the bus nearing the stop, but as you made your way to cross the road, to your surprise, a fourth hooded figure makes an appearance, blocking your path. It was then that the three others caught up, all circling you in a predatory stance.

“What’s in the bag sweetheart?” One gestured to your handbag, the other three looming near you. You decided on a gutsy move, and try to make a run for the bus, but to no avail.

In just a few seconds you were dragged by the shortest of the thugs, pulled into a dark alleyway, your view of the bus driving away was all it took for utter panic to engulf you. Doing all you could to struggle against them you bit down on his gloved hand, his grunts of pain all you hear before he tugged back his hand and backhanded you, stunning you seconds before you felt his fist entangle in your hair, and slamming your head into the wall with a piercing crack.

Disoriented, you slumped slightly, the other two guys rummaging through your bag, taking your phone and wallet. The shortest one now keeping watch as the tallest of the figures.The ringleader of the gang, it seemed, placed his hands on your hips, bearing his weight down on you as you heard something that made you want to vomit in your stupor.

“Hurry up Marco! We need to get this done now, we haven't had a decent hunt in weeks,”

Hunt? 

Your mind filled with the thought of other people they've jumped in the past, the smell of blood staining your nostrils. What the hell did they plan to do with you? The one holding you brought your face close to his, inhaling deeply and you could swear you saw his eyes darken menacingly. You screamed internally, silently willing yourself to do something, fight back, scream for gods sake. Anything!! But nothing came, you were frozen.

You felt his hot tongue run up the side of your cheek, and lap at the bloody nose you now sported. His nails seemed unusually sharp, puncturing the skin of your arm and gripping your thigh. And the smell, the stench. All of them smelled like blood; that rusty, metallic scent. But there was something else. something musty and rotten, like rotten meat. 

Just as a tear slid down the side of your face, mixing with the trickle or blood from your forehead. His teeth punctured the skin of your collarbone, the bile in your throat threatening to spill out. 

Then, halting all activity of the gang. There was a sound, almost like a wheezing animal coming from the entrance of the alleyway.

There, illuminated by the glow of the streetlight, stood a figure, and at his feet, two of the thugs. You watched, eyes wide as the shadowy figure collected the third thug, gripping him by his throat and lifting him from the pavement. The one holding you let go instantly, he seemed to be shaking as his eyes fell upon the newcomer. 

Losing your footing, the pain from your head making you want to vomit, your vision failed you. What you heard filled your already jumbled mind with more questions. The cowering voice of the ringleader was clear, he seemed to be begging for food? Is that all he wanted, why go to all this trouble if they were just wanting something to eat... you didn't have time to contemplate the answer as the next sound snapped you out of your thoughts. A sickening crack, and the deafening scream of the ringleader echoed in the alley, and then. 

Silence.

Footsteps, coming closer to you, and as you clung to one of the bins, your consciousness slipping. The touch of warm soft hands steadying you and a soothing voice the last thing you could hear before the world drowned in darkness.

“Its alright, your safe, sleep” 

[the-blind-assassin-12]

Core Drive - Clean: 1.03

A/N: Um... I really don’t know what happened. This is the single longest chapter that I have ever written. and I even cut some things for later use so it was supposed to be even longer but that’s crazy (And it took me forever and a day to get through because writing Logan in any amount of distress or pain is very difficult for me.) ANYWAY. There’s A LOT in here, but I think it’s all important so I hope you agree. Every few steps forward comes with a little bit of a backwards glance, right? 

Warning: this series will deal with drug use, depression, addiction, violence and other such topics. *please read responsibly*

Word Count: 9,030 (H O W?) 

“Shiiiiit.” 

Logan hissed the word, grimacing as sweat beaded on his forehead to run down his temples. The rest of the air in his lungs rushed out in a burst through his teeth, narrowed eyes focused as his shaking arms extended to a locked position. He could feel blisters peeling at the first few layers of his palms, lactic acid building up in his biceps. Shit. 

“C’mon man, you got two more, I know you got ‘em let’s go.” Miguel’s fingers hovered just beneath the bar, ready to catch it and keep it from crushing Logan’s chest should he slip and drop it. 

I’m not gonna drop it. Three months and four days in recovery had brought change and progress in spades. Medically, his body had snapped back like a rubber band, heart rate returning to a more normal pace with no signs of long term damage. He’d gained almost twenty pounds thanks to the return of his appetite, and he’d been sleeping better ever since he’d started opening up more in both group and private sessions. Mentally, he still had a long way to go, but he was resolved to get there. So don’t drop it.    

 “Two more, c’mon.” The younger man’s face came into view, upside down from Logan’s position on the cushioned black bench, his light brown eyes full of encouragement. As much as the constant support of the staff of counselors, nutritionists, trainers, therapists and techs had been instrumental in the growth Logan had been able to achieve, he knew that he wouldn’t have done so well so quickly without Miguel’s influence. From the very first night, all he’d done was offer a hand to help Logan pull himself up. Two more reps and he’d have a new personal best. That’s Miguel’s doing, too. Logan nodded. Two more. No problem.

Swallowing, Logan regripped the bar in his hands with a tight squeeze. He took in a breath and slowly bent his elbows, controlling the motion of the weights until the angle of his arms reached 90 degrees. The burn that spread through his muscles was an entirely different kind of pain from what he’d experienced in the desert- determined, not destructive- and he welcomed it. Pushing hard, he brought the bar back up, letting out another hiss of breath followed by a grunting growl as he locked his arms out again. 

“One last one man, you got this, you got to dig, c’mon now.”  

Dig. That’s what it was all about. Digging just that fraction deeper, pushing just further than the previous day. Logan had been excavating the surface layers, exploring and sharing and exposing more of himself than he ever had. It hadn’t been easy, but it hadn’t been nearly as raw or impossible as he thought it might be. It was time to dig a little deeper, he knew, time to get closer to the roots. He had a one-on-one with Zeke later that afternoon, and he’d been thinking more and more about the question he’d still been unable to answer: What was his goal for recovery? What did he want? It’s gotta be… I’ve gotta be close. Just gotta dig. 

He fought through the last press, gritting his teeth as he hit the climax of the lift. Miguel swiftly relieved him of the bar, setting it noisily into the rack above the bench as Logan carefully sat up. “Nice fuckin’ work, man, you crushed it.” Arms aching, chest and shoulders heaving with labored breaths, Logan let a tired smile curve up his cheeks, allowing himself a moment of triumph. I did. A burst of sound, almost a laugh, came from his mouth then as a light feeling filled his heart and head. I didn’t drop it. “You really been killin it, man,” Miguel waited for Logan to stand before smacking him lightly with the back of one hand. “This stuff, yeah,” he waved at the weights and equipment that surrounded them, “but I mean with everything. Shit, what you talked about today?” Logan’s eyebrows flew up as Miguel nodded. “You’re gettin’ there, man.”   

Logan cleared his throat as the two men headed for the showers. He hadn’t wanted to work out after the morning’s group session had left him emotionally exhausted but Miguel had talked him into it, promising that he’d feel better afterwards. He was right. It was a heavy morning, and with what he had in mind to bring up to Zeke, it would be a heavy afternoon, too. But at least I know I’m stronger now. “Hey, Ortiz,” Logan jutted his chin out just as they were about to split up into separate stalls. He knocked on the wall twice with his knuckles. “Thanks. For spotting today.” He was thanking Miguel for more than his help in the gym, and Miguel knew it. 

He grinned, looking even younger than his 24 years. “You got it, brother.”

As Logan let the steam and warm water soothe his sore muscles, he thought back to the morning’s session and what he’d shared. Combing his wet hair back with his long fingers, he let the full memory surrounding Juliet’s wedding come back to him.

..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..      

Bright afternoon sunlight poured through the tinted panes of the towering stained glass window, painting the floor, the pews, and the faces of the people sitting in them in swaths of green and yellow and red. Thick lead piping cut through the glass to depict various saints and Biblical scenes throughout the church. Logan stared at the image of a snake, it’s scales a bright emerald in contrast to the ruby toned apple that it was curled around. It’s never just an apple. One garnet eye gleamed maliciously as the creature’s forked tongue flicked from between it’s fangs, suspended in a tempting dance to lure its prey. He tore his eyes from the glass, blinking before returning them to the front of the room. 

He sat in the fourth pew from the front. The first three had been adorned with elegant white ribbons, designating special seating for family members and those who would take part in the ceremony. The entire third row on their side was empty. Delos may have become a titanic name, but it was a small family. No room for me though. He recognized the back of his father’s head, visible between the necks of his cousins that were seated in the second row. Logan was more familiar with the palette of yellowish whites and peppery grays that ran through the sparse wisps of hair beneath and around the balding dome than he was with the man’s eyes. Easier to walk away when you don’t look back.  

As though you could feel the acidic sting in his chest through your joined palms, you squeezed his hand where it rested in his lap, your fingers woven through his in a show of support. He doesn’t matter though, not why I’m here. He returned your squeeze and tilted his chin down to look at you. You were facing straight ahead, focused on the couple seated up near the altar, but you turned to face him as he let out the stale breath that he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Your eyes locked onto his immediately, full of compassion and strength and all of the things that he was missing but couldn’t muster up for himself. I don’t need him. I have her. 

Punctuating that point, you leaned into his side. You didn’t ask if he was alright because you knew that he wasn’t. “I’m right here, Logan,” You whispered low, only for him to hear. 

I know. He inhaled through his nose, eyes slipping closed as he nodded. I know you are. Pulling his hand free from yours, he wound his arm around your waist to grip your hip, turning to press a quick kiss to the crown of your head. There was no way that he would be there, sitting on that hard wooden bench if it weren’t for you being right there. Not after last night, not after what Jules said… what Willi- Logan swallowed, wincing. What he made her think. A friend of Juliet’s was reading a passage listing the attributes of love- patient, kind, without envy. He opened his eyes again, lips still buried in your hair. He knew that you loved him; you’d made it abundantly clear without ever speaking the word. I have nothing for her but she… The readings faded away, the previous night filling his mind instead…

“I’ll see you after the dinner.” Your voice in his ear and the promise of being able to crush your chest close to his sooner rather than later made him feel sturdier, more solid. “Just let me know when to head over, okay?” 

He licked his dry lips, pressing the phone to his ear. I wish you could come with me. You’d be there at the wedding tomorrow as his allotted plus one, but the non-existence of your relationship excluded you from an invitation to the rehearsal dinner. “Yeah.” As soon as I leave. “You remember the code? ‘Case I’m...in case you get there before me?” He’d never given anyone a key or a code, never trusted anyone to be inside his walls with or without him. I hope you get there before me. 

“I remember,” you assured him. Good. You paused before saying anything else, and when you did you couldn’t keep the concern from tinting your tone. “Logan?” Waiting another beat, his silence ensuring his attention, you continued. “It’s going to be… no matter what happens tonight, it’s going to be alright. You know that, right?” No. He cleared his throat but couldn’t form words. Is it? I don’t know. “Logan?” This time he hummed a response. “You’re doing the right thing. You’re trying to protect your sister. If she can’t… if your father can’t see that… I just,” You sighed. “You’re doing the right thing. And no matter what happens, I’ll… you have me. I need you to know that.”   

Your name came out with a breath as he combed the fingers of his free hand through his hair. I know… “I-” 

“Logan! Come on, we’re starting soon!” 

His sister’s call from the hallway cut him off and he swore under his breath. “Look, I have to go… get this shit over with, right?” He tried for sarcasm and fell about a mile short as you muttered a ‘right’ half-heartedly. “I’ll see you soon.” Not soon enough. 

He’d ended the call and gone out to appease Juliet, though he was uncertain as to why he needed to be there; after the desert some adjustments had been made to the wedding party and assigned readings, removing Logan from both. We just don’t want to make things too stressful for you. It’s only been two months and we don’t want to overwhelm you, Juliet had told him. Sure, we. Logan knew exactly who we was. 

The rehearsal was relatively quick, the wedding planner that had been hired buzzing diligently around, making sure that everything ran according to her strict schedule. Logan eyed his father from across the room as the woman took Juliet by the elbow, whisking her away to inspect some small detail. Jim took a sip of his beverage, leaning back casually in his chair as Logan stood to confront him. Last chance. He hadn’t had anything to drink, wanting to hold on to as much credibility as he could. It’s not even about me, it’s about Jules. I need him to believe me. She can’t... His eyes swept the room and found William, his whole body stiffening. She can’t marry that fucking monster. He’d waited until things had died down, until most of the guests had already left, before approaching his father to implore him one more time to hear what he was saying about the man he was so eager to welcome into their family. The man who tried to kill me. Logan had tried with Juliet, but his relationship with her was already on thin ice and each time he brought up his objections to her fiance that ice threatened to break. She won’t listen to me. But maybe she’ll listen to him.

He’d gone over what he wanted to say to his father, repeating it over and over until it was ingrained in his memory like a monologue. But he never got to deliver it. Halfway across the room he was stopped in his tracks, William’s blue eyes suddenly appearing as he stepped into Logan’s path. Get out of my way, asshole. 

“Logan.” 

He bristled at the malice that the other man covered with a sick grin, the same one he’d given him when he’d sent him off to die like a beast. Top lip curling, Logan ignored him, looking over William’s shoulder to keep his father in his sights. He was still in the same place, though now he was speaking with some staff member. Just need to talk to him before- 

“Aren’t you going to say hello, Logan?” 

He snapped his attention back to the man in front of him, sneering. Is he fucking serious? “Fuck off, I need to talk to my-” 

“Your father’s a little busy right now.” He tilted his head, shifting his weight and widening his smile. “Lots to do with the wedding tomorrow.” 

We’ll see about that, you son of a bitch. “You are not marrying my sister.” He growled low, nostrils flared and eyes wild as desperate anger spiked his bloodstream with gasoline, ready to ignite. He can fuck me over. He can fuck Jim over. But he’s not taking Juliet. He’s not taking Delos. “You get nothing, you piece of shit.” Not if I can help it.

William’s eyes narrowed. “But I already have everything, Logan.” He gave a slight shake to his head, sandy blond hair falling out of place. Why does he look so fuckin’ cocksure? Before he could say anything else, something cracked through William’s cold blue eyes like a fissure through an iceberg. He changed the tilt of his head by an almost imperceptible degree as he stepped closer. What the fuck is he- “Juliet is happy with me, Logan.” William smirked as he raised one hand to place it on Logan’s shoulder. “Don’t you care about your sister’s happiness?” 

Red hot disgust erupted into flames in Logan’s stomach the second William’s palm made contact. He reached across his body to shove the other man’s hand away as he gave a harsh shrug, top lip curled and eyes wild with hatred. “I don’t give a fuck if she’s happy, you crazy prick. All I fucking care about is getting her away from you, and I-” 

“If you don’t give a fuck,” His sister’s voice cut through the air to hit him like a dart from behind. Oh, shit. He could hear the way that she was trying to hide the hurt. He spun around to see her stepping through the open patio door, wiping at her eyes to stem the flow of mascara tinted tears.

“Jules, you know what I-” Logan sighed and reached for her as she walked past, but she drew her arm back in the exact motion that he’d used to escape William’s grasp, her top lip curling in the same way he knew that his own had. 

She dodged his hand, instead taking William’s as she came to stand by his side. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder as she continued. “If you don’t give a fuck, Logan, then don’t come tomorrow.” Juliet’s eyes, just a half shade lighter than Logan’s and almost identical in shape, were focused on his lapel instead of his face. She won’t even look at me, she- He looked up and was met with William’s smug grin. Motherfucker. That frigid flash from before suddenly made sense as Logan realized that William had baited him to say something that would hurt Juliet, knowing that he was unaware that she’d been standing in the doorway.   

That was that. Juliet’s tears caught Jim’s attention, and Logan’s last chance to get his father to see the truth about his new son was gone. He’d been told to leave and had been given a stern warning about his behavior at the wedding, assuring him that tossing him from the event wasn’t off the table, that he should consider himself lucky to still be welcome. I’m not though. It hurt to know that he was only still on the guest list so as not to raise questions about why the bride’s brother was absent. But I have to...for Jules. He knew there wasn’t much of a relationship left to salvage there, but he wouldn’t just walk away from it, wouldn’t quit until he’d exhausted all of his options. 

Before he’d even set foot outside of his father’s house, his phone was in his hand, letting you know that he was on his way back to his place. You responded quickly, saying that you’d be there as soon as you could. Still numb from the way that his plan had backfired, the drive home seemed to fly by in a matter of seconds and before Logan realized it, he found himself walking into the cool water of the infinity pool. His palms cut through the calm surface as the floor sloped lower until he reached the clear acrylic barrier that separated him from plunging onto the beach dozens of stories below. He’d found himself out there more and more, the moonlight on the ocean and the breeze off the shore cooling the pool water enough to soothe the phantom burns that still tingled all over his body. The encounter with William had thrown a lit match into his mind, and he let out a shaky breath as he leaned his elbows on the pool’s edge. Burning and dousing, lighting and stomping out- there wasn’t much left but ash. Soon even that’ll be gone. 

The sound of rollers sliding along a track joined the crush and crash of waves as the patio door opened. She’s here. Logan turned his head, chin parallel to his shoulder as you slid the glass closed. From that angle all he could see were your ankles and calves, bare in the fading lavender light, but it was enough to make his breath catch. He watched as you rose on one foot, then the other, your muscles contracting as you elevated to your toes in order to remove your shoes. You bent to move them to the side, your hair falling down your back, one hand coming to sweep it up, gathering the long strands to pile them atop your head as you stood. Your shins replaced your calves in his view as you twisted and took a step towards the edge of the pool. Wordlessly, you crossed the white stone slab, shedding the loose-fitting coverup you had over your swimsuit before lowering yourself down to slip into the water in one smooth motion. 

Logan turned his eyes back to the breakers, frothy white over the slate blue sea, cresting and spilling over to beat against the hard packed sand, but they slid closed as the rippled surface licked at his back. The water, displaced by your movement, spread out in circles to extinguish the fires that still tore through him. Releasing a slow breath through his nose he allowed the relief to flood his system. You still hadn’t said anything when he felt your touch, palms cool and fingertips dripping as one pressed to his spine, the other starting near his left shoulder to travel down his bicep and into the bend in his elbow where it rested along the ledge. He sighed and swallowed as you inched closer, hips and chest and lips making contact, right hand sliding around his body to wrap him completely in your arms. You left another delicate kiss along the plane of his back before turning to lay your cheek there, flexing your arms as you did. 

“What happened?” Your voice was quiet, consistent with the gentle breeze that ruffled the palms, soft but unwavering. Logan looked down to see the fingers of your left hand curled around his wrist. 

She’s here, I have her. He brought his right hand through the water to cover yours, sandwiching your arm between his and his body as he squeezed lightly. “I tried to talk to my…” he winced, “to my father again but he...William, he,” Fuck. The smouldering coals of the fire cracked back to life, stoked by the utterance of the man’s name. Logan blew out a shaky breath, the cold, cruel look William had given him flashing through his mind. Your thumbs moving over his skin and your whispered assurances drew the rest of the words out of him. “He stopped me, he knew what I was doin’. Used Jules against me, he-” a sick feeling swam through his chest, encircling his heart like the tentacles of some creature hell bent on dragging him to the bottom of the sea.  Anger and frustration, hatred and hopelessness bubbled up to drown him. “He tricked me...” Again. The tide was changing, churning now as the moon climbed in the sky and pulled the waves up higher and harder to swallow the shoreline. I underestimated him… and now he’s taking everything. 

He thought at first it was just about proving a point for William; proving that he could play the game the way Logan wanted him to, that he wasn’t the sniveling little beige toned coward that Logan had him pegged as. But it quickly became apparent that it was about much more than that. William didn’t care what Logan thought of him. In fact, the character that he had created for himself had been designed to suit multiple purposes: presenting as a cautious, capable set of hands for James to pass Delos and its fortunes to, appealing to Juliet as a charming, reliable albeit quiet and passive gentleman, and combining both of those traits to ignite some of Logan’s more volatile and less desirable behaviors. There were no points to be made other than that Logan, like the rest of his family, had been fooled by this con man. Divide and conquer, start with the weakest link. 

“It’ll be my word against yours, Logan.” He sneered down from his saddle, the thick rope twisted twice around his fist. “When all of this is over, if you make it out-” 

Logan seethed silently up at him. Even his voice sounds different now. He never imagined that all of this was what William was keeping so tightly wrapped when he told the man that he wanted to see who he really was. They’d gone roughly eight miles in the sweltering heat without stopping and Logan was exhausted. It was the second day of this, hands bound, trailing behind the horse, stumbling every so often either over the terrain or due to an impatient tug from his captor. 

William took a long pull from his canteen before wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “If you make it out, who do you think they’re going to believe?” He cocked his head to the side, watching the way that Logan was eyeing the canteen. Lips curling into a devious grin, he handed it over, taking pleasure in the desperate way that Logan fumbled to relieve his thirst from the empty container. “You know, you really made this easy for me.” A slow spreading realization trickled through his tired, dehydrated brain. Shit. “You live so close to the edge that all you need is a little push,” he sighed and tilted his head in the other direction. “After a few days out here?” He gestured vaguely at the sweeping landscape with the hand that he’d wrapped the rope around, jerking Logan by the wrists and causing him to drop the canteen. “No one will believe a word you say.”

He was right, Logan knew it was true. He was the boy who cried wolf with risky investments and drug dependencies, crude, attention seeking behavior and seemingly unwarranted judgements against the kind, moral man that William had convinced everyone that he was. He’d fucked up ten too many times in their eyes. It didn’t matter that he’d more than made up for what he’d lost the company monetarily, or that he hadn’t used in almost a decade. His father had told him that he was hardwired to fail, but it seemed just as likely that it was a flaw on James’ end- that the man could only look at his son and see wasted potential, a junkie, scrutinizing him through a filtered lens that blocked out anything worth celebrating. He won’t listen. Juliet won’t either, not after... 

William tugged the rope again and clicked his tongue, giving the horse a kick. Logan’s arms were yanked sharply, straining at his shoulder joints as his feet hurried to catch up with the horse’s momentum. Sweat ran in dirty trails down the bridge of his nose, cheeks and forehead already starting to redden along with the back of his neck over the top of his collar. It was the most physical agony he’d ever been in, and he knew it was only going to get worse with every step he took. What the fuck did I do to deserve this? As though his body could spare the water, reluctant tears sprang from the corners of his dry eyes, rolling down his cheeks and into his beard. 

The second the first tear fell, your face filled his mind. “No one will believe a word you say”, William had told him through a pompous grin. Not no one… she will. He focused on the way you looked waking up tucked against his side as bright, clean light pushed through the cracks in the curtains, remembered the way you smiled against his lips as he kissed you. She will.  

It had been nearly two months to the day that he’d had that thought- that he’d have your support and yours alone- when he found himself standing at the edge of the pool, wrapped in your arms, telling you how again William had sabotaged him. I was right. But it was a bittersweet comfort because he knew that he had nothing right now to give you in return. You had never once asked for anything, and maybe that was why he wanted to give you things, wanted to give you more of himself than he’d ever given anyone. He was almost ready, before his trip, almost ready to give you all of his trust, all of his secrets, his dreams, all the parts of himself that no one cared to see. He was almost ready to let you love him, to tell you what he already knew that he felt. But now? He couldn’t tell you now. He wouldn’t heft that obligation on you now, not when he was already depending on you as a life raft. 

Before he could get too lost in what he couldn’t do, he felt your cheek and chin move against his back as you spoke. “We’ll do whatever you want to do, Logan.” You straightened up and laid your lips to his shoulder blade before maneuvering your body around him, fitting yourself between his chest and the ledge of the pool. He looked down at you through his lashes, his hands falling to your waist, yours landing on his chest and the side of his neck. “If you want to go, we’ll go. If you don’t, we won’t.” What? He hadn’t even considered not going. You pressed your hand against his heart and shook your head. “Whatever you want to do, Logan, I’ll be there with you. There’s no wrong answer, you just do what you need to do, what you feel is right for you, and it’ll be okay, I promise. Maybe not tomorrow, or right away but… ” He gripped you more tightly as you slid the hand on his neck around to toy with the longer strands of hair there. His eyes fell shut at your touch, but he opened them again as a sigh left his lungs.  “But you have me, Logan. So if that means you want to stand up and object tomorrow, I’ll stand up with you.” You would. You tilted your head to the side and in the silver light of the moon he watched your eyes gleam, watched a small smile brighten your features. His heart thudded hard and even as it beat against his ribs, your smile took some of the pain from it. “And if you end up getting pushed into a pool,” you rose on your toes to drag your lips from his cheek to his ear. “I’ll jump right in with you.” You will. 

A jolt of warmth spread through him as he ran both of his hands up your back, wet palms sliding over your smooth skin to get you as close as he could. He knew it was temporary, that feeling. It was real, and it was strong, and it amplified as you wove the arm that was trapped between your bodies under his to hold him more tightly, but he knew that it wasn’t enough to keep everything else at bay. But it’s enough for tonight. Logan brought one hand up to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair as he recalled the night he’d met you, wishing he could go back instead of forward into tomorrow. The tide swept even higher up the sand, foam reaching for the dunes, and he let the sound of the waves and the rise of your chest against his carry him into the memory.

..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..

“You’ll like Dana, Logan.” Doubtful, Jules. “And I think she’ll be good for you.” So, boring. Great. Juliet assured him that the friend of hers that she’d set him up with for a co-worker’s wedding was a “nice girl” that she could “see him with.” He sighed, fixing his hair in the mirror as she sat on the bench at the end of the bed to put her shoes on. He’d been working hard over the last few years to repair the shaky relationship he had with his sister, and he’d go out with as many of her painfully dull single friends as he needed to to make her happy. Just don’t expect any of ‘em to stick. 

Within minutes of meeting Dana he knew that he’d been right about her. She was attractive and friendly, had a kind smile and said all the right things. Boring as fuck. Not even halfway through the ceremony, Dana had her arm looped through Logan’s as he scanned the crowd looking for anything or anyone to distract him. That was when he saw you, your profile bathed in a purplish blue light from the stained glass that you sat beneath, a quirk to the set of your lips that told him that you wanted to be there just as much as he did. You must have felt the weight of his gaze because you turned your head and caught him looking, sending a smirk through the air before turning back to face the front, your hair bouncing in a soft bologna curl as it fell over your shoulder. Bingo. 

Logan’s attention snapped back up to the officiant as they asked those gathered if there was any reason that the couple should not engage in matrimony. Maybe because I fucked the bride last night? He snorted to himself, clearing his throat as Dana threw her eyes sidelong at him. The woman in white stood in front of the room clutching the hands of her intended, makeup professionally painted on to hide the hangover and regret. He couldn’t help but wonder how many guests at this wedding knew what she looked like under all that tulle and lace. His eyes flicked to the man she was pledging her undying love and loyalty to, nearly choking to keep another snort from interrupting the moment. And the groom two weeks ago. All around him hands dabbed at teary eyes and heads tilted at angles emoting warmth and adoration for the lovestruck pair. Eat it up, assholes. He smirked silently, enjoying the fact that he knew Mr. & Mrs. Whateverthefuck better than, better than she knows him, that’s for sure. He pulled his sleeve up to check his watch as they shared a screen worthy kiss to join their souls. Less than an hour until the open bar. Glancing around he noticed that everyone else had stood to applaud the newlyweds, and that he and the disturbingly geriatric grandfather of the bride were the only two who remained in their seats. He sighed and stood, smacking his palms together apathetically, Dana gripping his arm and grinning up at him in a way that sent up red flags.Thank fuck.  

Two drinks into the cocktail hour Logan caught your eye again as you picked up a drink at the bar. You smiled, swirling the straw in your glass before bringing it to your deep purple lips and taking a sip, eyes never leaving his until you turned back to the bar. Why doesn’t Jules have any friends like that? He sighed. He’d tried to care about literally anything that Dana had said, hoping that he’d be able to figure out why Juliet thought that the woman might be someone that he’d be interested in, but he realized that “she might be good for you” was just code for “she’ll keep you out of trouble.” At what cost though? He finished his drink and turned to Dana who was still talking about… something.. Sorry Jules, I can’t do another minute of this. 

“Dana?” She turned her face up hopefully. Shit. He preferred honesty and didn’t mind bluntness, but he hated when they didn’t see it coming.  “I uh,” he cleared his throat. Just rip the bandaid off. “Listen, you’re really nice, but I am bored as fuck. I’m gonna go get another drink, talk to people and…” he gestured with his hand, twirling his wrist as he watched you walk out through the billowing curtains of the french doors and onto the patio. And follow her. “You have fun, Dana, I’ll see you later.” He strode away before she could respond, but she didn’t seem the type to make a scene, surely another reason why Juliet was trying so hard to pawn her off on him. 

He’d grabbed another drink and headed in the direction that he’d seen you go, and after assuring you that Dana was just the result of a failed blind date and that she and he had gone their separate ways for the evening, you assured him that you could tell that was what was going on from a mile away. Smirking, you asked him if he wanted to take a walk, “to get away from all  the stiffs.” He couldn’t remember agreeing to anything more quickly, feeling a magnetic pull towards you that had been absolutely absent with Dana. Before he knew it, the two of you had walked the entirety of the grounds, just talking. Logan hadn’t even noticed when you’d reached the patio again, blinking at you when you stopped walking. 

“So,” you pushed a piece of hair back behind your ear, Logan’s eyes following your fingers before flitting to your face. You smiled and he felt his own lips quirk upwards. “Do we go back inside, or do we stay out here?” You looked out over the patio, the shimmering water of the swimming pool illuminated by candles and lanterns, too cold to swim but too scenic to cover up. 

Well we definitely don’t go back inside. “Back in there? You mean with all the stiffs?” He stepped closer to you, setting his empty glass down on a lounge table and you nodded. Your confident smirk fell only for a second, your breath catching as he placed his palms on your waist, closing the distance even more. You don’t want to go back in there. “Nah, I think we stay out here and-” 

And she is nothing like Dana.

At least that was the first thought he had after you’d taken him by surprise, capturing his lips in a kiss that tasted like whiskey and champagne. He’d wasted no time in kissing you back, biting loosely down on your berry toned bottom lip before pulling back with a low rumbling breath in his throat. “Yeah, I think so too, Logan.” You sat down on one of the lounges as nonchalantly as you’d kissed him, crossing your long legs and waiting for him to make a move. 

Removing his jacket, he straddled the end of the lounge, picking up your legs and setting them back down on his thigh, thumb running along the underside of your calf to pull a breathy sigh from your lips. He groaned to himself, imagining what other kinds of sounds he could get you to make, and what hearing them would do to him. The wedding went on inside, but you and Logan saw none of it, missing the toasts, the dances, the cake- all of it- in favor of sharing that cushion, some more conversation, and another kiss, this one more heated than the last, hands and hips getting involved in a way that was difficult to stop once it had started. 

Until Dana had made her way outside to find her date with his hands on your body and your tongue in his mouth. Apparently, Logan hadn’t been as explicit as he thought he was being when he’d told Dana that he was bored. “I thought you were just going to talk to some people you know, not, not…” her face scrunched up as she gestured at the two of you, cheeks going red with embarrassment and anger. “Not this!” He bristled at the implication that he’d done anything wrong by spending his time with you. 

“I told you I was bored, Dana.” She still seemed confused. Guess I have to make it simpler. “I get bored, I don’t stay bored.”

While it seemed that he finally got his point across, perhaps he’d gotten it across too well. Shocking Logan with the amount of expression on her plain, quiet little face, she launched herself at him, hands out in front of her, giving him only enough time to realize what was coming, not enough time to stop it. Oh, shit.  “Logan Delos, you are deplorable!”  

“Oh, shit!” He heard you exclaim through a laugh as you jumped aside, Dana’s palms contacting his shoulders and giving him a backwards shove to send him tumbling into the pool before spinning and practically running back inside. 

Logan sputtered as he popped up from the water, a string of choked curses coming from his lips as he coughed and found his footing to stand. Squinting his eyes, he wiped his face to dry it as much as possible, dragging his palm down over his dripping beard. He wanted to be mad, but as soon as he opened his eyes and saw you still standing there, laughing from behind the hand that you’d clamped over your mouth, the anger vanished. “I’m glad you think this is so funny,” he stepped closer to the edge of the pool and scooped a handful of water up to splash you with. It is kind of funny. 

You smirked at him, the golden glow of the lanterns and candles dancing on the rippling surface and reflecting in your eyes. He watched you bite your bottom lip and groaned to himself knowing exactly how it felt to sink his own teeth lightly into that soft, berry stained flesh. Drenched strands of hair were plastered to his forehead and he brought one hand up to push them back, water dripping from the elbow of his soaked sleeve. The small group of partygoers that had followed a disgruntled Dana out to the patio dissipated, heading back inside for cocktails and gossip, leaving just the two of you. You took a step closer to the edge of the pool, your heels clicking against the wet pavers as music spilled from the open French doors. What is she doing? 

You bent one knee, slowly bringing your leg up behind yourself, and whatever questions Logan had died on his tongue. It flicked out to lick at his lips as the curve of your calf kissed your thigh, exposed below the hem of your skin tight dress. Reaching back, you curled your fingers around the heel of your stiletto. Logan’s eyes narrowed as he watched each digit bend, thinking about how it would feel to have those fingers wrapped around him instead. You seemed to read the intent in his expression, your smirk shifting to something more self-satisfied as you peeled your shoe from your foot. He hadn’t realized that his mouth had fallen open until it snapped shut, your shoe clattering to the ground. You removed the other more quickly, kicking it to the side to join it’s mate. Despite his situation, excitement quickened his heartbeat and he felt himself grow hard. Is she really gonna… He didn’t have to wait long, his hands coming up to receive your hips as you slid into the water, bracing yourself on his shoulders.  

You sucked in a breath that was as much a laugh as it was a gasp, clearly unprepared for how cold the water was. The sound drew his lips into a grin. Bold move. You gripped his shirt and pulled yourself closer, water sloshing between you until your hips met his. Logan let out a laugh of his own, fingers digging into the material of your dress beneath the water. When you looked back up at him, the shock from the cold and the shine from the lights were gone. It was replaced with a cocktail of mischief and desire that had him feeling more intoxicated than the champagne. Oh, shit.  “What are you doin’, huh?” He asked, voice low as his palms traveled to the small of your back, spreading wide so that his pinky and ring fingers followed your curves. A breathy sound came from your lips even as you kept your eyes trained on his, raising one eyebrow as though challenging him to get you to crack completely. Gladly. “Didn’t you hear?” He leaned in to drag the tip of his nose along the side of yours, wet beard brushing your cheek and pulling another little hum from your throat. “I’m deplorable.” He dragged the word out, hands squeezing the flesh beneath them. “Disgraceful.” Speaking low as his mouth hovered over your skin, Logan walked you backwards until you were up against the ledge of the pool. 

You inhaled shakily as he tilted his head to nip and suck at your throat, your pulse racing against his tongue one hand twisting even more tightly in the wrinkled material of his shirt, the other climbing up the back of his neck to clutch a fistful of his hair. Turning the tables, you tugged lightly to pull his head back and he groaned. Fuck that’s… He looked down through his lashes at you as you kept him in your grasp. “I don’t think you’re so bad, Logan,” you released his hair, letting him straighten up as your fingertips slipped through the one wet curl behind his ear. Shrugging, you let go of his shirt and pressed that palm flat against his chest. He swallowed, unprepared for the rush of warmth from your simple touch. Huh. “Besides. I don’t stay bored either, and-” your smile climbed one side of your face, lips following to quirk into a  perfect little bow. “And I was having fun with you.”

Two hours ago you were a stranger across the room. Now here you were, standing in 50 degree pool water, ruining your dress and shivering under the moon just to be with him. “Were you?” He asked, bringing one hand up to rest along the slope of your shoulder, thumb pressing gently into the skin beneath your collar bone. He grinned at your reaction, at the way your eyes snapped shut, a wrinkle in your eyelid and a rush of air from your lungs. You nodded as your eyes opened again, bringing a smile with them. “So was I.” A lot more fun than I thought I’d have at this damn thing. Logan let his hand slither slowly up the side of your neck until your earlobe was between his fingers. He stared at your lips as his thumb swiped over the bottom one to leave beads of water behind. “And we’re just gettin’ started.” He crashed his lips to yours then, leaving his thumb where it was, slipping it into your mouth as you whimpered. Your body went slack for a second as he caught you off guard, and you melted against his chest. Got you. He smirked to himself as you recovered, pulling at his hair again and winding your other arm around his body to bring yourself impossibly closer. Letting himself get lost in it, he replaced his thumb with his tongue, deepening the kiss as your hips rolled into his. He sighed into your mouth at the sensation, enjoying the way you were both trading who had the upper hand. My turn. 

He pulled back suddenly and you fell forward, chest heaving as you steadied yourself against him, a dizzy haze clouding your eyes that wasn’t there before the kiss. If possible, it made you even more enticing. He inhaled through his nose, shoulders lifting as he took a breath, and fingers trailing back down your neck to your shoulder again. “We should get outta this pool.” And outta these clothes. You nodded, pressing your lips together as you tried to regain your composure. “You stayin’ at the hotel?” He pointed his chin towards the illuminated building behind you and you nodded again. He smiled and flexed his fingers around your shoulder and hip. “Good. C’mon.” The hand he had on your hip dropped away from your body and he used it to grab yours, reaching for the palm you had pressed over his shirt pocket and pulling you away from the ledge, your lower body cutting through the water so that he could switch places with you. Without letting go of your hand, he planted his free one on the concrete and hopped up to sit on the rounded edge. Water splashed and dripped, running down his wet clothes and back into the pool. He tugged you towards him and bent down to place both hands on your waist. “Ready?” You placed your hands on his forearms and looked up at him, nodding for a third time. “Hang on.” 

You sprang off your toes and he lifted you from the water, a laugh slipping from your lips as he helped you up onto the ledge with him. It changed the shape of your mouth, pulling it open into a wide smile that made your eyes brighten and gave Logan a little rush. He realized he couldn’t remember the last time that he’d felt that, the last time he’d really had fun with someone. Your thigh bumped into his as your hands fell from his arms to yank your dress down, the material suctioned even more tightly to your body now. He watched your fingers bunching in the deep purple fabric and imagined his own, pulling the hem in the opposite direction, over your head and onto the floor in a saturated heap. When your eyes lifted back to his, that spark was back, and depending on how he tilted his head it was as innocent as it was intentional. How the hell is she doin’ that? 

You cast your eyes down through your lashes as he let out a heavy breath, hands moving down from your hips to the smooth skin of your legs, wet beneath his palms. Can’t wait to… he groaned, swinging his head downward. With a smirk, you blinked and smiled sweetly, leaning in slowly to capture his lips in a kiss that rattled his thoughts, shifting again from lustful to playful. He gave you the reins, and as soon as he did you broke apart and stood, laughing as you wrapped your arms around yourself, your whole body shuddering in a sudden shiver. “Holy shit it’s cold!” ‘Course it is. You bent your knees and let out another burst of laughter, as though that could fend off the chill.

Logan stood, pulling one leg and then the other up as water sloshed out of his shoes. He took a step towards the lounge chair you’d been sharing when Dana had stalked outside in a fit of rage, to retrieve his jacket, glad he’d removed it long before taking an unexpected plunge. It wasn’t cold before, but now it’s freezing. “You regret gettin’ in that water with me now?” He looked over his shoulder at you while you picked up your discarded shoes, one eyebrow raised as he grabbed the garment and turned back to you. 

Lips trembling slightly and cheeks rosy red, you locked your eyes with his and shook your head from side to side. Droplets of water flew from the tips of your hair as you moved closer to him. “No.” You said it simply. “Not even a little bit.” 

That rush hit him again. She means it. He narrowed his eyes and stepped closer, draping his jacket around your shoulders and pulling you into him by the lapels. “Good.” Dipping his head down, he sought out your lips for one more brief kiss, waiting until he could feel you lose your breath to pull back. “Let’s get inside, huh?” You nodded, slipping your arms into the sleeves of his jacket which fell just below the hem of your dress, a sight he instantly knew he’d have a hard time forgetting. I like that. You weren’t the first woman to wear one of his jackets. But he liked how it looked on you more than he thought possible.  

You reached for his hand, fingers notching through his as he spread them to accommodate your hold, and pulled him toward the building, not another word spoken until much later that night.     

..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  ..  

Logan gripped the tap and twisted it, the shower pipes shuddering in the wall as the water stopped abruptly. Drying off, he felt the grit of the morning session and his workout fall away, and he took a deep breath of the warm, steamy air as he prepared to do more digging. He wrapped the towel low around his waist and pulled open the stall door, more steam billowing out with him as he crossed to the sink. Wiping the meat of his palm against the mirror, he cleared the fogged glass enough to see himself. 

You don’t really think all of this, his reflection rolled his eyes around the seafoam and white tiled room, and gestured with his glass in a wide arch, is going to do anything, do you? 

Logan gripped the sides of the sink and shook his head. Shut the fuck up. 

I mean, sure, you’re clean now, but so what? He narrowed his bottomless eyes and pushed off from the wall he was leaning against to move closer, until Logan flicked his eyes up to see them staring back, full of contempt. His top lip twitched in a sneer as a precursor to his next words. You have nothing left, Delos. You lost it. All of it. You have nothing. No one. He shook his head then, giving a frustrated huff through flared nostrils. 

You have me, Logan. 

Your words came back to him as his eyes slipped closed, and he could feel your hand resting on his chest, solid and sure as if you were right there with him. Do I? Do I have you still? But the second that he questioned it, he knew it was true. He had you in every breath and beat of his hard-worked heart. He had you in every happy memory, in every moment of triumph no matter how small. He still had you, even if he’d let you go. I have her. He opened his eyes, releasing the grip he had on the sink to stand at his full height.  

I told you to just give up in the desert. I gave you two more chances after that. The man in his reflection clicked his tongue. The longer you draw this out, the messier it is. Gotta know when to leave the party, and you’ve worn out your welcome on this one. Just do yourself a favor and-

“No.”�� 

Logan turned sharply and stepped away from the mirror, shutting out his demon. Later that afternoon, he met with Zeke on the deck that overlooked the Atlantic. His first answer to Zeke’s question had been simply that he wanted to get better. Inspired by his recent progress, and introspection, he thought that he was ready to edit that statement. 

“I want to get out of my own way,” he said proudly at the end of the meeting. “That’s my goal.” 

Ezekiel nodded, leaning back in his chair. He reached up to remove his glasses, fixing his greenish brown eyes on Logan as he cleaned his lenses with the hem of his shirt. “To do what?” 

Logan blinked, stunned. He was sure that his new answer would have satisfied Zeke’s assignment, certain that he’d reached the conclusion that his counselor had hoped he’d come to. He wants more? 

“Logan,” He let out a breath as he perched his glasses back on his nose and brought his elbows to the table between them. “You’re getting another chance at life. It’s true, you can’t get anywhere if you don’t let yourself, but it’s not enough to have a clear path to walk down. You have to have somewhere to go, something to do. You deserve more.” He stood. “So think about that; now that you’re out of your way, what are you gonna do?”

.

.

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[gigi-sinclair]

Sins Not Tragedies (rated G, implied Jopson/Little, future Hartnell/Irving)

AKA “Haven’t you people ever heard of closing the goddamn door?”

For @theterrorbingo square “there’s nothing to be afraid of.” And it was supposed to also be for @zaphodbeeblebro, but it kind of got away from your prompt, so I’ll do another one for you later!

CW for period-typical attitudes. Title, naturally, from Panic! At the Disco

John Irving is not a fool.

He is no innocent, either, although he knows many people think it of him. He is familiar with the weaknesses of men. He even has sympathy for them. That is, after all, why he sought to rehabilitate Mr. Hickey and Mr. Gibson himself, rather than turn the matter over to the captain, as protocol demanded. His mercy was justified, it seems. Mr. Gibson has not complained of any further assaults, and it does not appear Hickey has turned his deviant attention elsewhere. Perhaps the flogging, unpleasant as it was, proved just the lesson he needed.

This, however, is something else. Rather, it is the same thing, but John cannot possibly react to it in the same way.

Hickey and Gibson are men of the lower ranks, of the lower classes. As is Jopson, for all his extreme familiarity with the captain. In everything, they require a guiding hand, a patient teacher. They cannot be expected to have the capacity to withstand temptation—and John can acknowledge its lure is all the stronger after so long here in the ice—without the help of their moral superiors.  

Lieutenant Little should require no such assistance. The man is a first lieutenant. Soon to be a commander, if the Admiralty hasn't already decreed it. There is no excuse for what John glimpses as he passes the storeroom late one night.

The ship is all but abandoned now. For some reason, all three lieutenants—Little, Hodgson, and John himself—remain on Terror, even though only Lieutenant Le Vesconte and Captain Fitzjames are left on Erebus, but the crew is scant. They have suspended the formal system of watches. Still, the creature is out there, and they must remain on their guard. John comes down from the deck after spending long hours of staring at the ice, alert for the creature from Hell. He should go directly to bed, but he needs a cup of tea to warm him up. He heads for the galley, passing on his way the captain's pantry.

This little room, Mr. Jopson's territory, is usually sealed off from everybody else. Today, the door is ajar. Curious, John approaches, with a mind to shut it if there is nobody within. Instead, he sees what he immediately wishes he had not.

The room is dimly lit by a single candle. It is enough for John to make out the figures of Jopson and Little standing face-to-face, much more closely together than even the small pantry necessitates. Edward's arms are around Jopson's waist, while Jopson's hands rest on Edward's shoulders.

There is nothing inherently scandalous about their placement but, again, John is not a fool. Edward's position is not to prevent Jopson from slipping down the perpetually slanted floor. Jopson, while an attentive steward, is not brushing lint from the lieutenant's lapels. This position speaks loudly and clearly of illicit intimacy, and John at once feels unwell.

Abandoning the idea of tea, John retreats to his bunk.

He has to inform the captain, but, at the moment, Edward himself is captain, and, until now, doing a fine job of it. In all the years they've known each other, Edward has never struck John as weak, or as at all lacking in character or morals. If anything, he is one of the most upstanding officers John has ever met. He is the last person John would have expected to fall prey to such deviant desires. If someone like Edward can fall, John thinks, twisting his hands anxiously, then what hope does anyone else have of resisting?

John sleeps very poorly. In the morning, while he is hungry, he cannot bring himself to go to the wardroom for breakfast. He does not know how he is meant to face Edward or Jopson, how he is meant to make polite conversation with them knowing what he knows. Instead, he buries himself in that which he has always found most comforting: his Bible. It helps little. His mind, quite unbidden, keeps returning to what he saw, and, more salacious yet, that which he did not see, but which was implied.

When a knock comes on the door, John starts. Of course, it is only Gibson, here to help him dress for the day.

“Mr. Gibson,” John begins, as Gibson fastens his stock about his neck.

“Yes, sir?” Gibson looks at him with his wide, pale eyes, and John realizes he does not know what he wishes to say.

He lands on, “Thank you.” It sounds awkward. The way John feels.

“Of course, sir.” Gibson nods and excuses himself, leaving John once again alone with his ceaseless thoughts.

But not for long. Scarcely minutes after Gibson's departure, there is another knock on the door. Mr. Hartnell looks in, the sight of him reminding John, for the first time, that they are meant to meet today.

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Hartnell,” John says. “I had quite forgotten our appointment.”

“No trouble, sir.” Hartnell looks poised to leave. John can't blame him.

The idea of John helping Hartnell come to terms with the loss of his brother through Bible readings would have been a good one, if Hartnell himself seemed at all inclined to want it. He never has. He comes to John's cabin diligently three times a week, sits and listens to John expound upon the Biblical themes of love and forgiveness, but the fidgeting and the chewing of his thumbnails indicate quite clearly that he longs to be doing something else, probably far away from John. John, unsure how to react to this, has bullied on, convinced he is doing the right thing by offering a subordinate the natural, God-given wisdom of a man of a much higher social position and rank. In the cold light of all he knows now, John has to wonder if he was ever right to interfere at all.

“We ought to stop this,” John says, his heart as heavy as his sigh.

“For today?”

“For good. I am no physician, Mr. Hartnell, nor am I a Biblical scholar. I have offered you all I can. It is time for you to seek solace elsewhere.” Harsh perhaps, but true, for Hartnell's own sake if nothing else. Hartnell's face falls. He is a very handsome man, John notes, not for the first time, and therein lies the true crux of this matter.

John always thought he was immune to Thomas Hartnell's charms, as copious as they are, because of who John is. His faith, his background, his rank, all are sturdy armour against sin. But Edward, while not as overtly religious, is just as Christian, and even more highly placed than John. He, quite obviously, has succumbed the lure of a much lower-ranking man.

Rather than flee as he should, Hartnell steps inside, and casts his gaze across John's walls. “If you don't mind me saying, sir, I've always liked these paintings of yours. That cat's the spitting image of my sister's moggy.” Hartnell nods at one of the paintings. A black and grey cat, it was an experiment in monochrome painting, and not one of John's great successes. “Old Tom, we call him.  It's quite a thing, to have to share one's name with the cat. I suppose I already share it with half the men I meet. The occasional animal oughtn't make much difference.”

John blinks. “In Australia, we had a bull called Red John.” A huge, ornery beast. John hasn't thought of it in years. It was an ill-tempered old thing that fathered more calves than any other in the area. An irony which, at the moment, does not escape this John.

“Well, now, sir. That is a namesake to aspire to.”

Despite himself, John laughs. It makes Hartnell smile in turn, which sends something soaring in John's breast. “You have helped me, lieutenant,” Hartnell goes on. “Even if it doesn't seem like it. I ain't...I'm not half as addled as I was before I started seeing you.”

“That is kind of you to say.”

“It's the truth.” He bites his lip. John immediately looks away. “You are a good man, sir. One of the best.”

John cannot be silent. “You say that because you do not know me.” Does not know the dreams he has been keeping at bay by clinging to his rank, his position. Has not seen the lake of depravity into which John knew—absolutely knew—he would never dip a toe, until he found Edward Little, of all people, splashing about right in the middle of it.

“I think I do.” Hartnell's expression is so earnest, John wonders, for a moment, if he really does see right through him, and, more amazing still, is not utterly disgusted. “I can come back this evening, if you're too busy now. I would very much hate to miss our discussion.”

“Yes,” John hears himself saying. “This evening.” Perhaps everything will be as it was by then. Perhaps the genie will be back in its bottle, and all will be forgotten. Strangely, that thought doesn't make John as happy as he would have expected it to.

Hartnell's smile grows brighter, making him radiant even in the weak Arctic light. “Until tonight, then, sir.” He turns to go.

“Take the painting,” John blurts out. Hartnell stops. His cheeks burning, John takes the monochromatic cat from the wall. “If you like it, that is. Could be something to remind you of home.”

“Thank you, sir.” Hartnell gazes at painting as if John has presented him with an artistic masterpiece. It's prideful, but John's heart swells to see it. “For everything.”

When he's gone, John brings out his watercolours. He's not sure what he is going to paint, but despite it all, he has an urge to make something joyful. Perhaps, John thinks, Edward is not an infallible paragon of virtue. Perhaps none of us are. And perhaps, he adds, even though thinking it may well be Arctic madness or the beginnings of scurvy or brain fever or some other deadly malady, it is possible to live on regardless.

[darkmindsotome]

Risque Rouge pt6

Tagging: @umbralaperture​ @otome-smut-queen @silver-fox-of-azuchi @tsundere-mitsuhide @jennacat84

General warnings for the whole fic: Angst, some fluff, Mental health issues, emotional things, trauma, blood, death and possible triggers. Please read responsibly. 

Darkmindsotome Masterlist

---

Chapter 6

When he arrived at the performing house, he could already sense something was terribly wrong. The building was as silent as the grave which felt like part of his ominous premonition from before had manifested itself. His body propelled through the building at high speed, his coat billowing behind him as he ran. His keen senses could smell the same scent in the air as back at that building and he felt his stomach and heart lurch.

Emotions were still a deciding factor for life, even for the immortal. It could make a smart man dumb or the bravest turn coward. He could get angry and vengeful to the point where the fury he had inside him could be felt rolling off his calm exterior in waves. Very few had seen Comte in righteous indignation and the ones that had, no longer spoke of it. The cool calm gentleman transformed into a biblical judgement as he struck down opponents without breaking his stride.

Still, in all the centuries of his life, he was always reminded of how powerless he was in the face of fear. It made him feel slightly ridiculous. In truth, there was little for a pure blood to be scared off. They were at the pinnacle of the predatory evolutionary scale. Death would be a release if it should even find them. Injury was temporary, fleeting like the life of a human in the expanse of eternity. Naturally, should the injury result in loss of limb they were no reptile or creature capable of regrowth. Even the frozen stasis of their bodies had limitations. Fear, however, that was a universal thing affecting all be it human, animal or vampire.

Stubbornly creeping up his spine, that familiar sense of dread probably had a much better name for itself. It was a cool chill coursing through his veins, a desire for answers and also a wish to remain ignorant. Fear really was a strange force to conjure with. Even with centuries of experience to draw on, it still knew how to give a good fight.

Repressing a curse under his breath he pulled back the curtain revealing the truth. It was a nightmare that would have fitted perfectly in the scriptures of any horror novel. Raven black hair curled in a tangled curtain covering in part some of the sight. The scent of blood filling the air had his mind reeling and as he pushed back against his own instincts, he noted the debris on the ground. The medicine destroyed and it was then he noticed the identity of the figure in the Princess’s arms. Le Comte was not a stupid man he could make an educated guess as to what happened and his own blood boiled thinking of how differently the events might have played out.

“Evie?” The young woman’s head moved, detaching herself as she looked towards him with a sound crossed between a groan and moan emitted from her. The clarity of those eyes made even him gasp, their pinpoint focus and depth were disarming.

It was true he had known what she was, although it had taken a couple of visits to confirm his suspicions. The same instinct that had drawn him to Leo when he discovered him in Italy, was playing a part here as well. The only difference was Leo knew exactly what he was and this woman didn’t seem to have even that basic knowledge. He felt guilty for his selfishness as he looked at the scene of the horrific tableau. He had avoided telling her, questioning and second-guessing his own decision, not wishing to cause her distress. He had soothed his worries with a promise he would make a more appropriate time to discuss such matters and focused on simply discovering more about her as a person. Nothing in his wildest dreams could have produced the vision in front of him.

The feral predator, both as deadly as it was beautiful. Her elegant fingers coated in dark glistening blood and her lips stained in the same. The demure and delicate poised figure from before had become a reflection in a black mirror and her capabilities were on full display. There was a low grumble that might as well have been from the pits of hell, neither of them moving.

"Are you alright ma Cherie?" His voice was as tender as ever. No judgement, no hatred as he patiently waited to see if she would manage to regain herself. They remained in a stalemate as they each regarded each other, two predators alone in the night. Hunger could do some terrible things and bloodlust was not something easy to fight. It drove the vampire to the brink of madness and threw them weakened into the abyss. Comte was worried for the girl as she had been weakened for so long, but her strength of mind was sound enough that he believed she could recover from this. He hoped she would recover.

“C- Comte?” The soft frail voice that answered him made his chest hurt. The angular shape of her body wrapped around her pray relaxed along with her expression as the predatory mask fell away. He felt himself give a small sigh of relief and some of the tension of his own body evaporated as well. Evie looked down at the weight leaning on her and yelped, hurriedly pushing the figure off her and scurrying backwards on her knees. “What have I done?”

She looked down at her hands in horror at the red painting her skin, the smears of it up her arms. The more she examined herself the deeper she felt herself slip into stunned terror. The cream coloured nightgown that clung to her sweat-soaked skin was ruined with torn buttons and fabric dyed in blood. She ran the tip of her tongue tentatively over her lip, finding more of it, her mind went blank realising what she had done. Her body started to shake violently and all the tears she had failed to shed before came out like a burst dam.

“It can’t--, I… I’ve never done something like that be-before.” Her voice was so quiet as if she was speaking only to herself but Comte heard every word uttered and felt the weight of grief in each one. He slowly stepped over the corpse on the floor and crouched down next to the young woman. Her face looked up at his, blood-stained and wet with tears. Her twin emeralds shimmering under a lake of moisture as she sobbed. She brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, rocking in place as she tried to reconnect with her own sanity. “What is wrong with me? I’m a monster, aren’t I?” She averted her gaze and looked at the bloodied mess she had created. It was everything she didn’t wish to see again but knew she would always remember.

“Shh… My dear sweet girl. Hush ma petite.” He gave little care for the crimson that might also paint him in the same shade as her. Comte wrapped her small frame in his arms, easily moving her with him as he carried her to her bed and sat with her there on his lap. Her arms latched on to him like he was the only solid thing in her world. Stroking one hand soothing up and down her back as he cradled her head against his chest. He felt her trembling and the dampness of her tears as they soaked through his shirt. Once more his chest gave a painful pinch as he held the trembling girl in his arms silently trying to calm her.

---

Time lost all concept while he held the trembling woman in his arms. Seconds turned to minutes, that bled into hours, and the only thing he was aware of was that when she finally stopped shaking the sky outside was painted in ribbons of sunlight and muted dawn shades.

She felt the exhaustion in every part of her body as it stilled and her tears finally stopped. Her eyes travelled back to the elephant in the room unable to place the feeling she had inside her now. It was a form of uncomfortable acceptance that made her feel guilty as sin for the apparent numbness she now felt. Was it a form of shock or had something else come to fill the gap in her mind to prevent her from delving headfirst into madness?

“Mon pauvre petit. Ca va?” The warmth from the man she had clung on to, in what was left of the night, brought her mind back to his presence. His large hands rubbed up and down her back once more as if trying to chase away the thoughts that would drag her back into herself. He still sounded so comforting as he enquired after her which presented new problems.

They were in a room with a dead man, covered in blood and the performing house would soon see the return of its people. It was a situation that failed to show how any of this could end well for either of them as they sat on her bed. She believed she deserved whatever fate she would be given to atone for her actions but what of the caring Comte?

He was innocent in this. No doubt someone would argue a case for his complicit assistance. He had failed to raise an alarm or attempt to stop her. There really did seem to be no end to the consequences of her cruel actions. Her heart sank at the thought of him doomed to be tarred with the same brush that would have her locked behind bars for life. When his only crime was being kind enough to care for her.

“Your kindness may be your undoing. I don’t scare you?” She muttered not daring to make eye contact for fear of what she might see reflected there. The sight of her flinching in his arms softened his expression more. She was like a scared little animal and it was almost unbearably endearing.

“Why would I be scared of you, ma Cherie?” She gasped and looked at the man still holding her to him in his arms. Did he not notice the dead body? The blood staining him where it transferred from her? He couldn’t have missed the fact that she was the one to do something so horrific. How could he be so calm? Stunned and at a complete loss of words she looked at him in complete disbelief. “You did not answer me. Are you alright Princess?” He made no attempt to pull away as he rephrased his question, pressing for an answer.

“I think so?” She nodded still dumbfounded and he patted her head, moving her off from his lap as he stood up gracefully.

“Mm, well that will do for now.” He walked over to the horrific diorama and gave a light tap to the dead man’s foot with his own. The warm toffee brown eyes were glazed over with a look similar to cataracts, the spark of life they once held gone. The lingering warmth she felt from him near her seemed a million miles away as she watched him now acting in such a detached manner. “I don’t suppose you would have a measure of rope in here?”

“Rope?” She became curious enough that she slipped from her bed and used objects around her to aid her attempt to walk. Every part of her body felt alien to her as she attempted to stand, stumbling like a newly born deer to his side. The marks she knew were on the body caused by her mouth had faded into obscurity, little more than bruising on the flesh. The sickening look of rapturous euphoria on the dead doctor’s face had her feeling queasy. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen…” Death was a concept she was familiar with but never had she been this close to it. Her words trailed off as she stole a glance at le Comte and guiltily clamped her mouth shut.

“You are still young. If you have no rope then we have to make other arrangements.” Saying this he gave her a reassuring smile and moved over to one of the windows. His calm and collected behaviour had her tipping a balance between awe and curiosity. Was he so used to such things that this was nothing to him? After opening the window to check for casual pedestrians he tied a scarf around it and used his elbow to punch out the glass.

“What on earth are you doing!?” Evie cried out rushing to his side in time to see him remove the scarf and scattering its contents on the sill and her bed.

“Hush now, Cherie.” Comte put a finger to her lips before raising it to give a small bop on the tip of her nose and continued to do whatever he was doing in her room. “If we cannot remove the evidence, we have to find a way to explain it. I might not be a great detective or an impossibly brilliant inventor but I have learnt a few things in my long life. At least enough for this.” He paused in his actions and glanced back over his shoulder at her. “You might want to freshen up a little.”

She looked at her reflection, the ornate frame of the dresser mirror surrounded her image like a terrible painting. Her face had tear-stained rivers through darkened dry blood and puffy red eyes. Bringing her hands to her face as if she couldn’t believe the reflection was her own, she wondered how she had not noticed the aftermath of the night clinging to her till now? She dashed to the basin and tipped some freshwater into the bowl. Dipping a cloth in she began to scrub and dab away the rotten mess. With a last douse of clear water, she felt a bit better and turned to find the macabre scene from before had changed.

If she hadn’t known better, she might have said it now looked like more of a struggle had taken place. Furniture had been tipped over and the doctor had been moved so his body was now face down pointing towards the door. With the addition of the broken glass and window, some more of her clothes had been removed from their hangers and now lay haphazardly around adding to the disorder.

“That should be enough.” Comte nodded and looked over to her giving her a reassuring smile before they were disturbed by a familiar figure tunelessly whistling as they entered carrying a tray of food.

It was a thing of perfect comedic timing had the situation been less grim. The small black eyes of the owner moved between Evie and le Comte, questions clearly forming in his mind before they dropped to the floor and his hands released the tray with a clatter.

“Oh My Lord! What in the --?” The owner cried out as his voice trailed off. His jaw hung open mystified as he tried to process the scene. His face drained of colour as he failed to remove his gaze from the scene he had just walked into. A corpse in the room, blood spatters and broken glass, the whole place was a complete mess.

“There was an incident last night.” Comte answered calmly with a slightly apologetic look on his face.

“I can see that.” The owner answered automatically, the way someone does when spoken too as they are lost in their own thoughts while he continued to look around the room. His eyes landed on the girl and finally seemed to take in her appearance. “Ah! Evie are you alright?”

Practically tripping over his own feet, and the tray, the owner rushed towards her bundling her up in his arms whilst trying to look her over from head to foot. The strength of his grip had her unable to breathe properly or reply. His eyes were full of concern and the guilt she had inside bubbled up again. Her eyes prickled as she tried to avoid the tears, she had thought to be all dried up and gave an awkward smile with a nod in reply.

“I’m afraid I returned after hours.” Comte spoke a bit louder than needed as he began walking closer to the entwined pair. “I remembered something I had to tell the Princess and stumbled upon… well.”

As she peeked out from the crushing embrace Comte’s golden eyes met hers with a silent request to let him handle this. The owner shifted his body so he too could see the approaching man and when the two men made eye contact, she could have sworn she saw those same golden orbs glow. The tight grip surrounding her seemed to slacken and the probing look on Uncle’s face melted, replaced with a look of relief. It was only for a fraction of a second but time felt slower as what she convinced herself to be a trick of the light made Comte’s eyes even more magnetic.

“Oh, dear Sir! Thank you. I mean naturally, I am not happy that you should think to return with it being so late, but thank the Lord in heaven that you did.” Uncle was acting like he was a little drunk, his focus was clear enough but there was something about his movements that just made him feel different. The owner pulled her tight to him once more placing a kiss on the crown of her head before pulling back and trying to smooth out her hair as if she were still a child. It made her feel embarrassed but in the back of her mind, she just couldn’t seem to ignore the sensation of something being off.

“I was actually about to summon a constable.” Comte continued to speak as he took up a blanket and draped it over Evie, effectively placing a barrier between her and the rest of the world.

“The police! Yes, excellent idea. I er…” The Owner suddenly looked very uncomfortable as he looked once more towards the dead man in the room.

“You would prefer not to involve the authorities?” Comte raised his brow in query a knowing look settling on his face.

“Ah, no it isn’t that.” The man muttered worriedly and looked once more at the young woman. It wasn’t just le Comte that was worried about dangers being brought to their house.

For Comte, it was a fear of a secret existence being revealed and the resulting chaos that would swallow all he knew and held dear. For the owner, he was already operating in a grey area of society, while the libertine lifestyle came with a certain level of romanticism it also held a rather low level of security against the cruelty of the world.

Yes, the desire to protect your household and family can take many forms and sometimes the actions taken to do so came from some questionably moral avenues. The consequences of such things would directly affect more than a couple of others and it was a matter of moving in the right manner to minimise the damage. A simple fact that le Comte was all too familiar with.

“I can appreciate the issue.” Comte nodded perceptively and moved closer, placing a hand on Evie’s shoulder. “Would you agree to place the Princess in my care? I could provide rooms and distractions until this unsettling matter is cleaned up. It would, after all, be nothing if not fulfilling my duty as her sponsor.” The words tumbled from him as naturally as water flowed downhill which did make her feel like this was a prearranged performance. She couldn’t shift the idea that everything could have been a lot more complicated, should have been a lot harder. The memory of his eyes came back to her, the glow.

“My good Sir that would be a weight off my mind.” The owner sighed with sparkling eyes. If a look could be more inappropriate given the situation she struggled hard to think of it. The jump from one extreme of mood to another made her head spin, it was as if someone had suddenly turned on the sun.

Comte’s large hand resting on her shoulder remained in place, his gently grip flexing slightly. Evie couldn’t tell if it was meant as a gesture to tell her to relax or a subconscious movement. The owner took both her hands in his, looking her straight in the eyes.

“I’m sure you had a terrible shock and it pains me I was not here to protect you. I should reconsider relocating my room to somewhere closer…”

“Uncle?” Evie softly called to him. The sight of his kind heart being so fully on display had that gnawing seed of guilt sprouting up inside her again. Struggling to find words she simply squeezed his hands. Even in his rambling state where he could become so flustered, she wondered how he had not succumbed to ill health relating to his nervous disposition. The man in front of her had never once shown her anything but care and kindness.

“Oh, pay no mind to this old fool Princess.” The owner gave a lopsided smile bringing one hand up to her face to smooth out the signs of concern she had there. Releasing her once more he turned away from her again, as if looking at her too long would hurt him after making his choice to send her away. “Still, the police will be here stomping around for a while and we will have to close for a time no doubt. I shall have to redecorate this room as well…” He was running his hand through his slick hair, causing it to become a temporary mess before being corrected once more. His mind clearly running through a to-do list that she had no doubt was growing by the second thanks to his worry.

“Uncle please. You—” Tears she tried to hold back were now running again. Her heart was hurting and she felt like someone was placing bricks steadily one by one on top of her. Everything was her fault and she hated it. All she had ever wanted to do was try to repay him and the others in the performing house for everything they had done for her.

“Ah! No little Princess no need to cry.” Beady black eyes went saucer round when the owner saw her crying. “It’s nothing to worry yourself over but I would like for you to accept the kind offer until this is all in order.” He moved swiftly back to her before realising the coating of pomade on his hands and rubbed them on his trousers before collecting her hands again. “Would you?” He was stooping to try to get a better look through the tears at her face.

The hand of Comte gave a gentle squeeze, and she nodded pushing back down the words she might have said. She was acutely aware of the warmth from both men and their concern for her. Evie resigned herself to do as was requested if it would bring any form of comfort to her fretting guardian. Seeing her attempt to give a weak smile the owner gave a small sigh pulling his face into a blended expression that landed somewhere between apologetic and grateful.

“Excellent! I shall leave my dear child in your care Monsieur. Pardon, I must go and find an officer and you simply must both not be here upon my return. Don’t worry I shall take care of everything. A beintot little Princess, Au revoir Monsieur!” With those few words of advice, the animated man gave a wave and scurried out of the room.

The silence that filled the room afterwards felt oppressive. Everything was like a terrible dream except the smell in the air and the way her bloodstained nightdress was clinging to her told her it was all real.

“We should be leaving.” Comte prompted gently releasing his grip on her shoulder and instantly moving into a perfectly elegant swooping motion to collect her, as the strength in her legs gave out.  She hadn’t noticed that just one single hand of his had somehow been applying support to her whole body, denying it’s failing sooner. “Careful now.” His voice was so close it seemed to shock the tears right out of her. She looked up and gave a very small noise realising how close his face was to hers. “You might want to hold on until we can reach the road and hail a carriage. I promise I won’t drop you, but I cannot guarantee smooth sailing through these halls.”

“You intend to carry me out?” The look of disbelief on her face as she asked her question amused him. Her pale skin of the most delicate porcelain that had been stained with tears and blood now shone with a dusty rose tint courtesy of her freshly acknowledged embarrassment.

“I don’t believe you are in a fit state to argue differently.” His voice came out with a stifled chuckle and a rather ungentlemanly urge to tease her swelled in him seeing her innocent face. “I cannot force you to do as I’ve requested though.”

“Ah!” She cried out and clung on to him as he made a sudden movement to begin walking out the room. His body lurched uncharacteristically for one so graceful and Evie found she was forced to throw her arms around his neck in order to prevent herself from tumbling. “You did that on purpose!”

She wanted to be upset with him. How could an elegant gentleman do such a thing? When she looked up and saw how he laughed she found she couldn’t bring herself to do it. The shame and guilt, all of the emotions she couldn’t begin to name were still surging through her like a roaring tide. She buried her face in his chest, her hands draped around him as he carried her in his arms, wondering if she was allowed to feel this kind of warmth and safety.

---

[flutteringphalanges]

Summary:  Chloe and Lucifer are survivors in a post apocalyptic world trying to make it through life step by step. (The cause is not biblical, but still falls in the canonical universe of the show.)

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: I hope you enjoy this chapter and the little goodies within it! Comments are greatly loved and appreciated! (Sorry it’s been a year lol)

                                                 Chapter Five

Fighting one's instinct versus knowledge on the situation at hand was becoming very clear to Chloe as she ventured deeper into the brush and away from Lucifer. Together, the Devil was vulnerable to any injury he received. Yet, as crudely humorous as it was, the same could be said when she was separated from him. Vulnerability. Such a fine skill to hold during the end of the world.

Twigs scraped against the detective's skin as walked as silently as she could. Every time a dead leaf crunch underneath her shoe, the more on edge she became. Despite their remote location, it was never a bad thing to be on the alert for looters. Or worse. These dark times had really turned some into true monsters. The things she'd witness, the stories she'd heard. It was something she tried to never think about, pushed far back to the outer limits of her mind.

Not much further, Chloe. She said to herself. Soon enough you can turn around and go back to Lucifer and-

There came a rustling noise behind her, a very distinct, undeniable sound. Chloe's blood ran cold as she froze in place, mouth completely dry. It came again, closer now. Heart pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears, she tried to decipher the sound. Human? Animal? Before the next foot fall, the detective began to sprint.

Noise seemed to come from every direction as Chloe ran blindly through the dying forest. Blood pumping, breathing ragged, she kept going and going as what she could only presume was her hunter closing in on its prey. Just as she thought her limbs couldn't move any faster, someone grabbed her from behind.

"Detective," Lucifer tried to steady Chloe as she struggled against him, still in a state of defense. "Detective, it's just me. It's Lucifer."

"Something," she swallowed thickly, gasping for air as she pointed behind her. "Something-"

"It's alright," he soothed, letting her lean into him. "It was just a deer."

There, standing a few hundred feet away from them, Chloe could just make out the body of a doe. The creature seemed to meet her gaze, dark eyes staring back curiously. How odd it was to see such a thing out in this wasteland. A forest once teeming with life now stripped of its beauty. How the animal had survived this long, she wasn't sure. Before she could even make a remark, the deer bounded off, leaving both Chloe and Lucifer alone once more.

Embarrassment flushed in her cheeks as the adrenaline faded away. Months ago, or however long it'd been, she'd gone for her gun first. Fight versus flight. But just then, her gut reaction was to run. Flee into the uncharted woods and into a trap for all she knew. She was exhausted, strained from their days trekking through the wilderness. Sometimes it even surprised her that her sanity had somewhat remained intact.

"Shit!" She cursed, breaking away from Lucifer. Her foot connected with a small stone, sending it flying into the base of a tree. "I could've just gotten us both killed. If it had been...if I had…"

"Technically, you could claim that I was at fault since I'm the reason we're down here in the first place." He gave a tired smile, hoping she'd take to his crude attempt at humor. She didn't. "Everything's fine now," he reassured, moving to her side. "We're okay and that's what's important." Lucifer dangled his leg in front of her. "Good as new!"

Chloe's mouth twitched into a small smile, her head shaking at the gesture. Optimism at its finest. Inhaling softly, she reached over and gave his hand a small squeeze. The Devil's eyes flickered down to her fingers before flashing up to meet her gaze.

"No more injuries," she murmured, her smile weary.

"None," he agreed.

                                                     XXX

Even though she was expecting it, the sound of shattering glass still startled her as Chloe watched Nate ram a rock straight into the vending machine. It took a couple good strikes, and while she knew Lucifer could easily do it in one with his fist, she didn't feel the need to explain her partner's true nature to their group. So she waited hungrily, the desire to eat overpowering the guilt of stealing.

"Hell yeah," the young man chuckled, lunging straight for a bag of cheese puffs. "I love these damn things!"

But before Nate could even open his beloved prize, Lucifer quickly snatched it from his grasp. The man reeled around, a look of pure resentment burning in his eyes as the Devil held it just out of his grasp. Unlike him, the others had not immediately gone into a frenzy for the food. While each one of them wanted nothing more than to dig into whatever the machine offered, it was a silent agreement some sort of rules needed to be set in place.

"Give. That. Back." Nate growled, trying in desperation to retrieve his meal. "That's mine. I earned it!"

"Ha," Lucifer snorted, clearly amused by the other man's desperation. "If anything, you've earned yourself a first class ticket to Hell-"

"We need to ration," Chloe interrupted, throwing her partner a look. "Despite our luck in finding this before someone else, we need to figure out how to divide this to last." Her eyes flickered to the vandalized machine and the junk food it held. "Not that candy and chips are the best form of nutrition."

Though the machine was far from empty, it clearly hadn't been refilled before the chaos hit. Off brand chips, some chocolate bars of various kinds, gummies that looked a little stale even from where Chloe was standing, and a few packs of gum. That was it. Empty calories that would cause them to crash and burn energy. But it was all they had and anything was better than nothing.

"Come on," Nate groaned. "We've had barely anything to eat in the past several days. I'm starving. We all are!" He wildly gestured to the others. "What's one bag of chips going to do?"

"I'm with Chloe," Ruth spoke up, moving to the detective's side. "We need to have a plan. If we're going to make it far." She swallowed, her shoulders rising as she inhaled. "Before we turn on each other."

"You have my vote," Charlie agreed, throwing Nate a cold look. "Sometimes you have to sacrifice to get things done."

"Mine too," Kate added, her eyes focused on the ground. "It's for the best, I think."

All eyes fell on Lucifer, who, still holding the chips, simply shrugged. "You know whose side I'm always on." Chloe's smile only deepened Nate's scowl. "Especially when it comes to crisp eating pricks-"

"It's settled then," the detective cut in before Lucifer could finish. "We split things up. Divide and conquer." With a small smile, she reached in and grabbed a bag of old gummies. "So how do we go about this?"

After much debate, mostly on Nate's part, the snacks were gathered and split up. They had a good few days worth of "meals" if one would call them that. Chloe's stomach was already twisting at the look of all the sweets. It wasn't that she didn't like sugary foods-she really did, but for however long it would last, that's what her diet would consist of.

"Eat."

The detective was pulled from her thoughts as Lucifer continually poked at her with a chocolate bar. She eyed him carefully before taking the candy and breaking it in half. Handing him his piece, she began to nibble on hers, trying not to cram the entire thing down in one bite. She didn't have to look at the Devil to know he wasn't consuming his.

"Eat your own," she mumbled. "I'm fine."

"I'm not hungry," he countered. "You have it. I don't even like chocolate." Like a child, he obnoxiously poked her with it again. "Quick, it's melting in my hands and I don't want my clothes to get bloody chocolate stains on top of everything else."

Chloe huffed and shook her head. "You're being ridiculous right now, you know that?"

"And you love me for it," he smirked before forcing the treat into her hand. "Now eat, I'll be fine. I'll just have a few extra licorice whips later."

They both knew that it'd be a long while before they'd eat again, but neither spoke up about it. Instead, Chloe just leaned against him feeling his arm wrap around her waist. The wind began to blow, but only silence followed in its wake.

                                                       XXX

"Damn mosquitoes!"

Lucifer slapped the back of his neck as they trudged on through the woods. The air was sticky and the heat made Chloe's head spin. Despite the fact they were heading up north, the weather had turned out of their favor. Days had passed since they last saw rain, maybe even weeks. She was too tired, too thirsty to concentrate.

"Hey, hey," she hadn't even realized she was slipping down to the ground before Lucifer grabbed her. "Stay with me, detective. I know it's hotter than Hell, but we have to keep walking. We have to find water, yes?"

Chloe nodded her head weakly, her dry lips smacking together as Lucifer threw her arm around his neck. Weather seemed to be going from one extreme to the next. Maybe it was normal. Maybe it was from the bombs. But she needed to fight through this. Fight to stay alive. Survive for Trixie. For Lucifer.

"You know what I want," her voice slurred as if she was drunk. "A nice, big swimming pool of water that I could drink out of."

"I could go for a few shots of whiskey myself," he added, but a glass of water would be nice too I suppose." He chuckled, but Chloe could hear the worry in his tone. "Tell you what, we survive this and I'll build you the biggest bloody pool in all of Los Angeles."

"And we'll skinny dip," Chloe mumbled deliriously. "It's too hot for clothes."

"Ooh, you are quite the temptress, detective," Lucifer smirked, shifting to carry more of her weight. "I'll hold you to that."

They continued to walk on, Chloe growing more and more out of it as they went. Lucifer fear for her outdid his own concern for his well being as they pressed on. He knew if they didn't find some source of water soon, their outcome wouldn't be so pleasant. If running Hell was still a concern of his, he'd consider making this a torture option.

"Lucifer," Chloe murmured, bringing Lucifer back to reality. "If something happens to me-"

"Stop," he interrupted firmly. "It won't."

"But if it does-"

"It. Won't."

For a brief moment, his eyes flickered a crimson red. Though his anger was not aimed at Chloe. No. Literally at everything but her. As they moved on, almost painfully slow, suddenly the detective's voice broke through the silence.

"Lucifer, look," she nearly rasped. "A house!"

At first, he thought she was hallucinating, her hand shaking as she pointed towards the distance. He was going to ignore her words when his eyes did too catch a glimpse of something past a thicket of trees. By Father, she was right. There was a house. Right in the middle of bloody nowhere. The Devil couldn't contain the grin that spread across his face.

"Why my dear detective, I believe we found something much better than a pool," he breathed, looking down at her. "Much better indeed."

At least, he hoped as much.

[kinktae]

Too Tempting || 3

[!] *SEQUEL OF MY FIC “TEMPTING”*

Y/N is an angel and a good one at that. She steers clear of the seven deadly sins, especially lust. She is out performing her duties when she runs into a demon. Luckily for her, that demon, Taehyung, doesn’t seem to buy into that whole “Angels and Demons are sworn enemies” idea. But unluckily for her, Taehyung just so happens to be the very embodiment of sin. Especially lust.

Or, “For someone who is meant to be so pure, you sure are dirty, angel.”

pairing: demon!taehyung x angel!reader

genre: fantasy, smut, angst

word count: 4,624

warnings: hella references to Tempting, graveyard scene, lots of underlying themes of death

A/N: Angels/demons use this is fic are in a supernatural sense. More focus on angels and demons as immortal creatures even though I might reference some “biblical” terms. Oh and this is a dream I had!

CHAPTERS: 01 | 02 | 03 +

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CHAPTER THREE 

Grace and I packed our bags and bid Guyi farewell soon after Taehyung's unexplained disappearance. We were heading back home for the weekend as Halloween was tomorrow on Sunday.

We were 30 minutes into our drive when I finally told Grace about my all night encounter with the infamous Kim Taehyung.

"What?! What the fuck do you mean he spent the night?" She squawked in disbelief, body now fully turned to face me from her spot in the passenger seat.

Grace, incredibly, had failed her driver's test a whopping four times. She claimed it was due to the fact that every instructor had conspired to fail her, but I experienced Grace's driving first hand and could confirm she was just that bad of a driver.

I gripped the steering wheel in between my hands, my eyes focused on the road.

"There's no need to be vulgar, Grace." I sighed.

Grace scoffed in exasperation, "Oh, spare me the lecture. How the hell did Kim fucking Taehyung end up at our dorm... Y/N did you fuck–”

"Stop it right there. I already know what you're about to ask and the answer is no." I laughed, grimacing slightly.

Grace let out a small chuckle under her breath.

"So, how did he end up on our couch?" She pressed once more.

"I found him drunk and sprawled out in a bush on my way back from the library." I explained, causing Grace to snort.

I glanced at her as she looked at me dubiously, as if I had just told her a joke.

"I'm serious." I told her pointedly.

"Wait, really?" She blinked, her smile suddenly gone. I nodded, causing her to let out a choice word that would cause my mother to squirm.

"That's... kind of sad." She mumbled, turning to face the road.

"He's kind of sad, honestly. Yes, he was drunk and slightly irritating, but... I don’t know. I couldn't help but feel for him." I frowned, thinking back on the way he woke crying before he eventually fell back to sleep.

"I wonder if that's how he copes." Grace ponders. "By drinking, I mean. If I lost my mom and sister... man, that would really fuck me up."

I nodded. I could think about it for hours, but there was no way that I could fully wrap my head around the fact that within a matter of hours, Taehyung had lost his entire family. Mourning a single family member was hard enough but to lose your mother, father and little sister? God.

I felt goosebumps crawl over the skin of my outstretched arms.

For a second, silence ringed out between the two of us. I could hear a faint buzz seep through the car as I merged onto the highway.

"Well... I don't know about you but I'm not about to spend another hour and a half in somber silence." Grace declared, turning my car's radio on.

The familiar tune of a pop song began, causing Grace to move in her seat as she started to sing along.

My eyes stayed glued to the winding road, thoughts slowly finding their way back to Taehyung.

There was so much I didn't understand about him and despite Guyi's warnings fresh in my mind, I couldn't help but feel uneasy knowing that he had slipped in and out of my life without getting to do more for him. When I had first met him sober at the party, he had carried himself well, he was confident and every word was smooth– calculated almost.

And then to have seen him at his most vulnerable state... it was just a jarring contrast and it wasn't sitting well with me.

I just couldn't buy the narrative that Taehyung was someone people were supposed to stay away from. I wonder if by everyone shunning him, it had turned him exactly into the person they all assumed he was.

"Y/N?" Grace's voice called out beside me.

I blinked harshly at the sound as I was snapped out of my thoughts. All background noise, the music, the road, Grace's singing, everything happening around me had faded away as I lost myself in my thoughts.

"Are you okay?" She asked, her voice sounding concerned as she took in my solemn state.

I glanced at her momentarily as I took a hand off of my steering wheel, reaching for the radio.

"Yeah." I assured her with a tight smile.

Pressing multiple times at the volume button, I let the music fill up the entirety of my car, allowing the meaninglessness of the lyrics and the repetitiveness of the melody to fill my head so that the unrelenting thoughts of Taehyung couldn't.

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“Hola mamá.” Grace spoke into her phone. “Yeah, we’re almost home.”

The car ride turned out to be slightly less unbearable once Grace began her dramatic karaoke session where she acted out every song in a way that had me clutching at my abs from how hard I was laughing.

Grace was the kind of a person who was perfect to go to when you needed to take your mind off things; she was full of energy and unpredictable but it was that spontaneity that I had learned to find comfort in.

I grew up in routine. Every morning I would wake up at the same time, sit down to have breakfast with my parents, head off to school, come back home to do homework, and then go to bed. Everyday was consistent and repeated so I was grateful for the small specks of irregularly Grace brought into my life.

We were nearly at Grace’s house now; we had decided on the drive back home that she would be dropped off before I myself would reunite with my own parents.

“Oh, I see you guys!” She mused into the phone, eyes set off in the distance.

Sure enough, just as I turned the corner, Grace’s mother and little sister came into view, the both of them standing along the sidewalk that framed their house.

I watched as Grace unbuckled her seatbelt, rolled down her window and stuck her body out of it to wave and shout at them.

We were in a residential area and I wasn’t driving fast by any means, but instinctively, I gripped onto the back of Grace’s shirt, just in case she accidentally fell out.

“Gracie!”

The two of us laughed at the sight of Grace’s little sister Charity jumping up and down ecstatically as she waved back.

Reaching her house, I hadn’t even put my car into park before Grace hopped out of the car.

“Charlie! Ah, I missed your booger face so much!” Grace sighed dramatically, bending over to pick up the beaming six year old.

“I don’t have a booger face,” Charity laughed as she wrapped her arms around her older sister’s neck, “you have a booger face!”

Unbuckling my seat belt, I let myself out of the car, walking over to the three smiling girls.

“Y/N! You came too!” Charity cheered once she spotted me, squirming in Grace’s grip to be let down.

Grace complied with a light hearted chuckle, and I extended my arms out to meet the happy child that was running towards me.

I let out a small groan at the impact but wrapped the small child in my arms regardless.

“I missed you, peanut.” I hummed before pulling back from the hug.

From my position crouched on sidewalk, I looked over to see Grace embracing her mother tightly. A small smile found my lips as I watched the two reunite.

Grace was incredibly close to her mother. Before Charity arrived, it was just the two of them, and despite the fact that they looked nearly nothing alike, they couldn’t be more similar.

“It’s good to see you again, Ms. Wilson.” I greeted once I made eye contact with her.

She rolled her eyes.

“Y/N, I’ve known you for how many fucking years now and you still greet me like that? You make me feel like some decrepit old hag. I’m not even forty.” Grace’s mother quipped back.

I smiled sheepishly, “Sorry, sorry. Hi, Jane.”

If my mother were to hear how casually I addressed Ms. Wilson, she would probably have a heart attack. I myself still wasn’t entirely comfortable with speaking to an adult so informally, but Ms. Wilson did have a point. Talking to Grace’s mother was just like talking to another Grace.

“Missed you kids.” Jane grinned, moving a hand up to ruffle Grace’s hair. Grace let out a noise of discontent as she shoved her mother’s hand away from her thick locks.

“Are you spending the night or heading back to yours?” Jane asked, directing her question at me.

“No, uh, I’m actually meeting up with my parents at the cemetery after this.” I informed her causing Grace to raise an eyebrow.

“They’re at the cemetery? I thought that was a Sunday thing.” Grace questioned, referring to how my parents never went on Saturdays, which was today.

“It is. But tomorrow is Halloween so...”

“Mmm, yeah I hear you. Back when I was younger my friends and I used to hang out in the cemetery at Halloween, trying to find ghosts and shit.” Jane nodded.

Grace hummed, “I never knew that. That sounds like something I would do.”

At her daughter’s words Jane shrugged, “Probably because it was something your dad convinced me to do.”

Immediately, my eyes flickered towards Grace, watching the way she physically flinched at the mention of her father.

From what she’s told me, Grace has only ever met her father twice; once a couple days after she was born at the hospital, and the second time being at her seventh birthday party. I was there that day but I must have been in the backyard or otherwise occupied when it occurred.

The story goes that a man by the name of Jake Alvarez showed up at the door, shouting about needing to see his daughter. Jane’s father opened the door and spoke to the man before the cops were ultimately called. Grace only got a glimpse of the man but from what she remembers, she was the spitting image of him. While she had gotten her mother’s light eyes, her dark hair and skin had clearly come from him.

Her father was fined and incarcerated for a year for violating his restraining order.

Grace told me she tried to ask her mother about the incident but she brushed it off, saying that he was drunk and she need not worry about him. Grace always had a feeling that her dad would pop up every once and a while after that, but if he did, her mother did a brilliant job of protecting Grace from him as she never saw his face again.

The last time Grace made an effort to see what her dad was up to was a couple years ago and she found out that he was once again in jail, this time for several accounts of theft and for assaulting a police officer. She stopped checking in on him after that.

She wouldn’t say it outwardly, but her father was definitely a sore point in her life.

Sensing the tense shift in atmosphere, I cleared my throat.

“So, Charity, what are you going to be for Halloween?” I began suddenly, turning towards the small girl, eager to change the subject.

Charity was the product of Jane and her current boyfriend, Rafael, who were still together and extremely happy.

“A fairy princess.” Charity smiled shyly, arms tucked behind her back. Grace seized the moment to move towards my car to grab her bag out from the backseat.

“A fairy princess?! Do you have your costume yet? I wanna see!” Grace enthused, flashing me a grateful smile as she grabbed her bag and shut the door behind her.

At the idea of getting to put her costume on, Charity’s eyes lit up.

“Mommy, can I show Gracie and Y/N my costume?” The child begged, eyes wide and pleading.

“I think Y/N might have to go soon, sweetheart. Maybe next time.” Jane responded causing Charity to let out a deflated ‘awe.’

“I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon. You can show me then!” I comforted her, taking one of her full cheeks in between my thumb and pointer fingers. She resembled Grace in that aspect.

“Also, did you forget about me already? I’m staying so you can still show me.” Grace teased with a pout causing Charity to giggle with glee.

“Are you leaving?” Grace asked, turning towards me.

I nodded, “Yeah. I’ll be back tomorrow around seven to pick you up and drive us back to the university. Call me tonight?”

Grace promised that she would and opened her arms to engulf me in a hug farewell.

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The first time I came to this cemetery, I was around ten years old. Its a hard pill to swallow, the idea that buried under the ground were hundreds of people that once roamed the earth just as I was doing currently, walking over to where I saw my parents standing.

Death was a concept that never sat well with me; I wasn’t particularly fond of cemeteries either but this one was familiar enough that I didn’t mind walking alone through it.

I did my best to avoid stepping too close to any graves as I walked, the sound of the wet grass crunching under my feet.

I could see parents clearly now as I approached them. They were exactly where I expected them to be; my mother placing flowers by the grave’s headstone and my father standing, looking down at it solemnly.

Reaching them, I took a place besides my father, his hands tucked neatly into the pockets of his slacks. At the sound of my arrival, he glanced over at me in brief surprise before he recognized who I was.

“Hello, father.” I greeted him softly, causing him to send me a nod.

My father wasn’t usually this silent, but these moments usually left him closed off and in his head. 

I didn’t really mind though. He and I were never particularly close. He was a brilliant businessman and a great provider for our family, but I always felt as if we never bonded in the way a father and daughter should. But again, I was comfortable with occasion nods and his stern heeds of warning whenever he deemed it necessary as I grew up and began my life as an adult.

I turned towards my preoccupied mother who was fumbling to keep the yellow flowers she had brought to decorate the headstone in the position she wanted them.

The stone itself was slick with raindrops, remnants of the light shower that had fallen down the entirety of my car ride here.

I pressed my lips together as my eyes fell onto the name that was engraved into the slab of marble. The name of the brother I never got to meet.

Park Jimin.

My mother had finally grown content with the flowers’ placement and pushed herself back onto her feet.

At the sight of me, she let out a small noise of surprise, unaware that I had arrived.

“Oh, button! I didn’t see you. How was your drive back?” She spoke, moving to reach for my hand.

One of the things I liked the most about my mother was her tendency to give almost anyone a nickname. It was one of the softer displays of her character. She had a nickname for both Grace and I. Grace was “Sparky” because of her firecracker personality, and I was called button because she insisted that, as a child, I was “as cute as a button.”

I departed from the hug after pressing a kiss to my mother’s cheek.

“Long but bearable.” I told her, recalling my best friend’s resounding energy throughout the enter car ride.

“How is Sparky? You said she was struggling in her English class last time right?” She recalled.

For a moment, my mother and I spoke of school and other such formalities.

Sometimes I wondered what a relationship like Grace and her mother’s must be like. Grace once told me she saw her mother as more of a best friend than an actual parental figure which didn’t make sense to me.

My mother was kind and loved me but I never got the sense that my relationship with my parents surpassed anything other than a child and her guardians. I wasn’t in any place to complain though; they had given me a family, something I might not have gotten considering the fact that my biological one had given me up.

Words couldn’t describe how grateful I was for the life my parents had given me. I was born into a life of financial stability and security, my childhood consisting of the best nannies and private tutors. There wasn’t any material thing that I lacked.

I turned towards the grave.

“Those flowers are beautiful.” I noted earnestly, causing my mother to look at them.

“Daffodils. There have been some growing at the park we used to take you to when you were younger for a while now and I thought they were lovely, so I went out and got some.” She told me causing me to nod.

My mother let out a sigh, staring down at her son’s grave.

“He and you were a lot alike. You two would’ve gotten along wonderfully.” She spoke softly.

Jimin was the biological son of my parents. He died from cancer a couple years before I was even born. From my understanding, he was around the age I was now when he died; it was his death that lead my parents to adoption and eventually, me. So in a way, I owed the life I had to him.

I clasped my hands together, praying that where he was he was happy and at peace.

“We’re going out to Poppy’s for lunch. Would you care to join us?” My father spoke suddenly, causing me to let out an apology.

“Grace and I ate right before we left and I’m not very hungry. I think I might head home to unpack if that’s alright?”

“Of course. We’ll see you back home then.” My mother nodded causing me to smile at her.

All three of us turned and began to walk away from the grave, speaking briefly with one another as we began to head towards our cars.

A cool gust of wind emerged from out of nowhere as we walked and I let out a squeak as I held onto my skirt to prevent it from riding up with the breeze.

“It’s October now. Too cold to be wearing skirts, Y/N.” My mother chided as she watched me struggle with said article of clothing.

“I know, I forgot how-”

My words were cut short as I turned towards my mother, only for a mop of blond hair to capture my attention. I paused my steps, squinting at the figure in the distance.

Despite the person being far, he looked distinctly familiar and I squinted at it.

Was that... Taehyung?

“Is everything alright?” My father’s voice called out, and I turned towards the sound only to see that my parents had stopped walking and were now staring at me in concern.

I felt myself blush.

“Y-Yes, I just,” I turned back to look at the darkly clothed figure, “I think I know that boy.”

My father let out a low hum, and I suddenly realized I needed to clarify my statement.

I shifted uneasily, “He goes to my university. He... borrowed something from me and... it’ll just be a moment. I’ll see you both back at the house?”

An uncomfortable feeling settled at the pit of my stomach. Nothing that I had said was a lie. I just didn’t need my parents knowing that Taehyung was supposedly everything that I needed to be wary of. They had made it a point to warn me of the dangers of college and, while boys were mentioned, I didn’t want to worry them with things that could just very well be rumors.

I watched as my parents glanced at Taehyung’s distant silhouette in slight apprehension.

“Alright. Don’t take too long.” My father spoke sternly, causing me to nod eagerly.

Waving my parents goodbye, I began to make my way toward, who I hoped, was Taehyung, my heart in my throat.

I smoothed out my skirt and hair as I walked.

I wasn’t sure what I was going to say to him. Would he even remember me? I know alcohol consumption interfered with memory but surely he remembered enough for him not to be alarmed when he woke up in a strange dorm. He left so suddenly, I just wanted to make sure he was alright now...

“Taehyung!” I called out before I could think to stop myself otherwise.

At the sound of my voice, the blond boy turned around, the sight of his face confirming him as, in fact, being Taehyung.

Just as I was about to wave at him, a sudden thought entered my mind, causing me to stop walking.

Taehyung was at the cemetery.

The cemetery.

He was visiting the graves of his mother, father and sister, and here I was, about to pester him about a drunken night he had spent throwing up in my dorm. I felt embarrassment wash over me.

My stomach did flips as Taehyung stayed facing me, staring at me solemnly. I couldn’t quite read his expression from this distance but his eyes were dark and held mine unapologetically.

For several moments, I stood frozen to my spot, unsure of what to do.

To my relief, Taehyung finally looked away, turning back to face the graves he was standing in front of.

I let out a breathe, bringing a hand to press against stomach which now could finally settle. I let my eyes settle onto my feet, shame nipping at me.

God, what on earth was I thinking? Why can’t I just leave this poor kid alone?

As much as I wanted to fight the idea that I should stay away from Taehyung, I had yet to consider that perhaps Taehyung wanted to be left alone. Maybe he liked that fact that people weren’t constantly trying to pry into his life and I was just an annoying reoccurring factor that he wanted no part of.

“Angel?”

The voice nearly made me jump out of skin, a small scream leaving my mouth. I snapped my head up to see an amused looking Taehyung standing in front of me.

I was so consumed in my thoughts that I hadn’t heard him walk over.

“Damn, do I scare you that much?” He mused, a devilish smirk overtaking his face.

“No.” I responded automatically.

Yes.

Another breeze fell over the cemetery and I watched as Taehyung’s hair moved with it.

“What are you doing here?” He asked.

Suddenly, I realized how odd it must look that I had run into him three times in a row.

“I’m not stalking you, by the way!” I blurted out embarrassingly, my cheeks growing red the instant the words fell out of my mouth.

Taehyung raised an eyebrow.

“I didn’t say you were.” He stated simply.

“Right, well, uh, just in case you thought I was. I’m not.” I repeated lamely, intertwining my hands together.

He smirked, “Noted. So other than not stalking me...”

“Oh, um... my brother...”

It felt wrong to bring up Jimin as I had never even met him, especially when Taehyung was here visiting his entire family.

Taehyung’s expression softened, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

I nodded politely, feeling uncomfortable.

“I'm sorry about your family, too.”

I had said the words automatically, a direct reflection of the sorrow I felt towards the fact that he had lost his family, but it didn’t occur to me at that moment that Taehyung hadn’t been the one to tell me, and I watched in regret as Taehyung’s expression hardened.

Panic spread throughout my body and I began to ramble uncontrollably.

“Ah! I’m sorry! I heard from a friend! I know it’s none of my business! I just wanted to tell you that I’m really, really sorry. And I know you don’t know me and I don’t know you, but if you ever need to talk to anyone–”

“Angel.” His voice cooed gently, causing the words to die out in my throat.

God, he wouldn’t stop with that nickname.

“I don’t need you to be nice to me just because you feel bad for me. You have no reason to feel bad for me, trust me.” Taehyung smiled darkly.

All the blood in my face drained.

I met his gaze, feeling shame wash over me as I realized he had overheard the conversation Guyi and I had right before he left our dorm.

A shiver ran over me, and I wasn’t sure if it was because of the now increasingly cold air or because of Taehyung’s words.

“I’m–”

"If you’re about to apologize, don’t.” He told me.

I shut my mouth promptly, unsure of what to say. I held Taehyung’s gaze for a moment and my heart sank as he turned from me and began to walk away.

Oh God, what did I just do?

I stared at his back as he walked further and further away from me.

“Taehyung!” The words left my mouth before I could convince myself out of it.

Taehyung paused mid-step, his head tilting over his shoulder as if to tell me he was listening.

I swallowed the lump in my throat, tugging at the sleeves of my shirt.

“I don’t think you’re as bad as they all say you are.”

Taehyung turned around, staring at me in interest. I felt my face heat up as his intense gaze fixated on me.

“W-What I mean is... I don’t think you’re a bad person. That’s why I want to help you. Not because I pity you but because I genuinely believe you’re a good person. Even if you’ve made mistakes.”

The confession was meant to come out grander and more confidently than it actually did, but I tried my best to hold my ground and show him that I was being sincere.

Embarrassingly, Taehyung didn’t respond. 

Shifting from foot to foot, I felt my nerve begin to unravel.

“So... yeah...” I murmured, wishing he’d just forget everything I had just said and turned around now.

“What are you doing tomorrow for Halloween?”

His question caught me off guard, and I gawked at him silently before realizing that he was awaiting a response.

“Uh, nothing?”

Grace would be with her mother taking Charity out trick or treating, and while I was invited, I declined to rest and do some homework instead.

“Go out with me.” Taehyung offered suddenly.

I nearly choked on my own spit, “W-What?”

“Do you know that club downtown called Obmil?” He continued, as if he hadn’t just said something outrageous. “They’re having a two for the price of one special on drinks.”

I shook my head. Taehyung wanted to go out clubbing with me? Sure, I had taken care of him all last night but he didn’t know me. Why would he want to spent his Halloween with me?

“I don’t...”

To my surprise, Taehyung flashed me a soft smile, one that I hadn’t seen him wear before, “You want to be friends with me? Then let’s have some fun. I’ll pay for everything, as a thank you for taking care of me last night.”

I blushed.

So he did remember.

“Come out with me, angel.” He pleaded, his voice dripping in honey.

I should say no. My parents would throw a fit if they knew I was invited out to a club by some guy. They wouldn’t even let me out of the house, for that matter. I didn’t even drink for heaven’s sake!

Taehyung’s gaze never left mine as I tried to think of the right way to turn him down.

His eyes, although dark, held mine gently and I felt my cheeks grow warm as I noticed the small indent of a dimple on the side of his mouth.

“Okay.” I grinned.

[randombtsprincessa]

Ambrosia || 1

Author: Randombtsprincessa

Characters: Kim Taehyung x Reader

Summary: An Ancient Lore is making the rounds in Heaven, Hell and Earth. What happens when it reaches you?

Warning: Violence

The thuds of running footstep echoed throughout the cold night, pants of breaths that misted and fogged around the panicky man’s face, blurred his vision.

He couldn’t afford to slip and fall.

His assailant was silent, dark as a shadow and equally as frightening. The man hadn’t seen him coming but the next moment there was a chokehold on his neck and muttering in his ear, low and smooth voice whispering words…strange words to him.

He didn’t know how he managed to escape, but somehow he did, wiggling his body away from the powerful grip of the shadow man and took off into the night.

He had to admit, he had no direction, no periphery in the rapidly smoking lanes and he had no clue where he’d turned during his now cursed nightly walk.

He was completely, hopelessly lost.

And by some strange newly developed perception of danger, he could tell his attacker was drawing closer.

He was lane diving at random now, slipping in and out as fast as he could, hoping to confuse his pursuer but he was the one having trouble getting his bearings back.

He slowed down a few times, looking around wildly, hoping that in one of the unintelligible black drawn buildings he’d find the way back to his home, warm and comforting, or at least the way to a more secure location than tumbling about in dark alleyways.

There weren’t even any solid crevices or black spots that would conceal him.

He wouldn’t call himself a religious man but he couldn’t help the tiny sliver of breath that huffed out the four word, “Please God, help me,”

As he emerged out of another dark lane, he felt the tell tale signs of his attackers again; the prick of danger, the chill of apprehension and then he was off, pounding straight across the roads to wherever the path took him.

Somewhere along the way, it had started raining, the cold water seeping through the man’s light coat, soaking his skin to the bones and nearly drowning him in the freezing temperature.

No help came from the god he so pitifully asked for help but instead came his befalling.

His feet skidded on the now wet road, ankle twisting the wrong way as he landed on his front, the asphalt searing across his elbow, leaving behind a jagged cut.

The fallen man grunted, gathering his wits before he turned to see if he was still being pursued. Surely whatever was after him had given up after that hell of a chase?

Headlight flew around the road and the man craned his neck to see a black sedan moving gingerly closer. He almost wept in relief, his god had listened.

He was going to be saved.

It was a second too late that he felt it again, the prick, and the click of a shiver up his spine. It was as if the world was slowing down around him. He could hear the drops of water fall around him, minute and singular. He could ever feel his breath go in, travel around his body and be exhaled, the feel of carbon dioxide warm on his upper lip. He was sure if he would focus, he could feel the earth revolve.

The car was still on its way, it was just infinitely slower and the man barely had time to look around before he felt the slender grip around his neck again.

The muttering was back, the sharp sensations of having something snatched from deep within had started again but this time the man just helplessly let it happen.

Was this how it was supposed to happen? Like this…on the road…? He had a family, a woman he wanted to marry. He had a job he had to get to in the morning…

He was supposed to die like this?

But he wasn’t dying…

The pain in his arm dimmed, the world returned to its axis, yet the man felt nothing.

Even as the car he’d been so relieved to see came to a standstill in front of him, bright headlights glaring into his dilated pupils, he didn’t shy away.

The calls of a man; asking is he was ok, if he needed assistance, if he needed a hospital rand through the confines of his brain, nothing registered.

All the man could do was blink.

Angels.

The term was so…varied.

To some, they were bright, benign creatures full of love and affection, always and forever ready to bestow them upon any and everyone.

To others, they were myths, biblical and enigmas created to show that there were guardians out there who saw all, protected all, and took care of all.

To others still, they didn’t exist at all…

It just so happened, that Angels themselves were happy to promote all three ideas; for various reasons.

They were what was the word…? Oh, yes, you could call them a government of sorts.

A government that reigned supreme and was of time immemorial…

It had endured eras and generations and had never once lost its simplicity and complexity.

Its job was protection, looking after its sheep – quite literally so – like subjects, giving love and showing fondness when needed to keep them from going stray but also to instill enough fear of The Way. No one in heaven cared about the Way of course, God created you, God loved everyone.

Angels had to watch the Creation and they were happy for a long time, until came religion, politics, mayhem…and then came betrayal…

Of course, they weren’t called Angels back then…that term was a lot more recent…

Until now, Angels just existed.

The Principality stood in the lush grass with an easy frame of body, but the being’s brows were drawn closer just so, his hand wrapped loosely around the long thin trident that was his symbol of power.

The plane he stood on was just one down from the highest, able to exist physically and yet be unable to achieve by humans. It served as a meeting place for Angels where their business was decided. The third triad used this plane the most, and was quite fond of the cliff from where they directly watched over their charges.

The term “Angel Meeting” was for all intents and purposes, supposed to sound funny. It would be too, if it comprised of men and women in white robes with plastic feather wings strapped to their backs running about with gold painted halos perched on their heads.

No, behind the silly sounding name, the matter was always serious and with no binary differences. Here was where the Principalities and Archangels offered their younger brothers and sisters their work on Earth.

Yes, even Angels had hierarchy, who knew?

Angels had endured throughout millennia, and they would stay on for more to come, at times, it got boring, at times it got exhausting, but as their creator had intended – not that they had ever seen him or her – they found joy in watching God’s lesser creations – human. Or perhaps, it was more of amusement, entertainment.

They all went about their daily life with a suppressed form of superiority. Especially the men, Lord knew what made them think they were so above everything else. The ill of all kinds were the most stressful to watch, leaving most Angels un-wanting to hover near teens with mental problems, asylums, institutions and hospitals.

An Angel given the job to work these areas was considered the most unlucky even if the concept of luck was foreign to Angels. Their auras were tinged with the diseases humanity faced; sometimes even take a few days off to recuperate as they drained their Angelic powers of the taint of bearing Human Maladies.

Today, the meeting would be grim.

The being turned just as the grass rippled again with a gust of wind, watching closely as three similar beams of light burned the immune grass of the Plane, before the pure light started to take shape in humans.

No one out of heaven was willing to keep their 12 feet tall selves exposed with multiple heads of various creatures.

The first one to step out of the blinding white light was Seokjin, big dark eyes inquisitive as he studied the Principality.

The Principality in turn returned the look evenly.

Seokjin, gorgeous Seokjin was never one to come for any old job. He was an Archangel, twin to the Evening Star himself. He had been ignorant of his brother’s mutiny, and yet was left distraught when his other half was cast out by his Eldest, Michael. Unable to stay with the rest of his siblings he had relegated himself to the lower class, happy to keep out of Michael’s way.

If possible, he would stay out of it now, but the angels were desperate. They needed him.

The other beams of light, more colored than the pure golden white took more time to step out.

Out of the gray tinge, stood out Namjoon and in the end, from the purple beam came out the youngest and most recently born, Taehyung.

Both hesitated in front of the more powerful auras that Seokjin and the Principality together exuded.

The Principality swished the trident once in acknowledgement. “Welcome, brothers,” he said, voice booming across the grassland. “I thank you for joining me here so promptly.”

The younger two angels inclined their heads while the older remained impassive, prodding the higher being to get to business straightaway.

“I suppose you know of the attacks on human beings?” the leader asked, steeping his fingers together, trident clutched between his thumbs.

The Angels nodded. Of course they knew; they watched the news too. Sometimes, they had the misfortune of catching a murder happening but they didn’t have jurisdiction to directly intervene unless they were specifically ordered to be Guardians. Even the Guardians didn’t randomly go about protecting people. They were given to special souls, worthy souls.

“Is that what you have called on us for?” Seokjin asked voice curt but the indifference in it was not missed. Seokjin might not have rebelled but the way his father had treated his brother over the meek creatures had stayed with him since forever.

More often than not, he did not see why his father cherished these cattle breeds more than he did his own children.

The Principality could only watch him with sadness. He had once been the most gentle and most benevolent, and the one who had been around since the Throne turned his back on Lucifer.

“Yes, it wouldn’t have been; but it has fallen on our radars and that is a cause of concern.” He said finally.

“What would you have us do?” asked Namjoon. He was a strategist, mainly getting posted to the industrial sections of humanity, office workers and the like.

“What can we do? We cannot just go about and play detective Namjoon.” Seokjin said, eyeing the Principality, almost daring him to say something.

The Principality just shook his head. “Too many have died, brother, we cannot let this slip.” He said, finality ringing in his tone.

“Then send Michael, or Gabriel even Raphael, aren’t they the warriors?” Seokjin asked.

A clap of thunder echoed across the parted sky.

“Careful brother,” Namjoon warned but Seokjin couldn’t be bothered. Not one of his brothers had dared face him for ages, what would change now?

“It has been anointed to you already. Nothing has changed. You will go to Earth, you will contain the situation, you will find the culprit and subject him to Heavenly Justice.” The Principality commanded.

Each glanced at one other before nodding to their oldest as their wings erupted behind their backs to engulf them in Angel Fire again.

Namjoon, black, grey and white wings flapping once was the first to vanish, followed by Taehyung as he drew his feathers closer together.

Seokjin eyed the Principality for a second longer before erupting in a rosy beam as well, sparkles leaving behind.

[dear-jesus-memoirs-blog]

Your sheep are hard of hearing

Tuesday June 5, 2018

Dear Jesus,

You said to write what’s good in my eyes and seal it from the king. How can I know what’s good. I thank you for trusting me, or maybe testing me, and still I just sit here waiting to feel inspired by you. Knowing you put the task on me and I’m still asking you for help. I wish everyone knew you better. I don’t think most even consider who you are or that you exist, most days. Or ever, really. I’m not talking about Christians, just people in general, you know. Those who don’t know you think you cause death and darkness, and maybe some Christians even think it. That you punish through these measures. You don’t. It’s screaming in my spirit, you DON’T do this! I wish everyone understood. When you come back as the lion there will be a time for judgement but everything leading up to this, no. This is a fallen world. What does that even mean to someone who doesn’t know in their spirit?

*

You gave the world to adam and eve. They were creatures of light, thriving in your presence. They let themselves be tricked, losing their ‘skins of light’, creating a loop hole for satan to usurp some kind of power in the earth. Adam and eve were no longer able to stand for the earth, to represent us. They had been separated from the direct current of authority for which they were born. You know this but I feel I have to say it! Satan, the accuser, a trickster, took what should have been theirs. He’s the one who causes these things in this fallen world. It’s ‘fallen’ because we walked with you in your light, and when adam and eve were stripped of their light, they fell, like a child falling into a chasm, arm outstretched for their father to lift them back up. Satan was the virus that started the domino effect of death and decay. I’m thankful for Jesus who pulled me out of the muck, who saves us. If Satan, a mere fallen angel, can cause all this corruption of the earth – the war, sickness, poor food quality, evil…what more can Jesus, the son of the one true god, bring through his pure light and embodiment of love? Jesus is limitless.

*

That’s what I want to say, Jesus. Jesus is limitless. How afraid were the people before you arrived? They had no authority over the earth or over evil. They were bound by a law which left them vulnerable to spiritual attack because of our sinful nature. But after your rose, now we are filled with the Holy Spirit, and the authority to bind evil and loose good. You gave us the keys! How afraid are the people now? The authority is in us, but the empowerment is gone. Christians have forgotten that we hold the ability to both bless and curse with our words, because our breath was first your breath. Christians have forgotten that healing, apostleship, speaking in tongues, and servitude are all gifts of the spirit. They are not a one-time only, special offer, gift, left behind in biblical times. You are light and life, and there is no end to what you can do, and because of your Holy Spirit within us, there is no limit to what we, as Christians, can do through you. Why do we know in our heads but not in our hearts?

When will you revive us? There’s a trickle of the Holy Spirit, freshly flowing. It’ll become an outpouring soon, right? But how much more does the world have to fall to receive the outpouring? How afraid and downtrodden will the people be? I pray, Jesus, not much farther. Not much longer.

*

I often stop and think how beautiful everything must have been at the beginning and how beautiful you’ll make it again. I think about the people I care about who I know you will bring to Jesus, protecting and nurturing them through the Holy Spirit. I know you will because you are faithful and just to forgive, and because you honor the prayers of the righteous. I know you see me. I know you see my struggles to stay close to you and every slip I make, and my head bowed low in repentance every time. I need a lot of forgiveness, but I feel you smile in my spirit because of the effort. Because there are so many who don’t even try, who can’t recognize you, and because I have no idea what I’m doing half the time and I still try for you. I believe there are some Christians who strive to make you smile, I believe in the end there will be many, many, more. And I believe the people closest in my heart will be among them because my god is faithful, and considers me in all my weakness and humility, in my mess ups and repentance, and he will give me the desires of my heart. I know you will save them so they can be counted among the forgiven. How blessed I am to know that my family is secure. How blessed I am to be part of the family line of Yahweh, who adopted me and washed me in your holy blood. How blessed I am so stand among the chosen. And how blessed we all are to live in a time that we are all chosen to live with purpose. I pray Jesus, call louder and call harder, your sheep are hard of hearing! How can I help others to gain their spiritual ears? I don’t know where to start with that one.

*

I pray not my words but yours, Yahweh. Not my will, but yours. I just felt you pour through me and out of me, and so I’ll just finish by telling you about my day. Today was a good day. The last four days haven’t really been normal, by my typical routine, but they’ve been good. I had a sleep over with my beautiful niece. I love her. I don’t understand her, and I can’t relate, but I love her. We don’t really do sleepovers very often, especially with ‘the girls’ so it was both exhausting and refreshing. I kept wanting to just snuggle her, but you know I’m not a snuggly person so I held back. Maybe next time. I also kind of forced the kids to watch the Goonies because I really wanted to watch it myself. I hoped it would ignite their sense of adventure. I think they liked it well enough through all its fabulous 80’s attire and all. It was a good weekend.

*

And naturally, since Brenton always gets sick when he doesn’t get enough sleep, Brenton’s been sick with some kind of virus since immediately after the sleepover. He had to stay home today, but seems to be feeling better. I still managed to get my workout in, too, thanks to you! I prayed and you heard me. Today was double day, back to back workouts. Brenton has been waking me the last couple of nights because of not feeling well and I wasn’t feeling energized this morning but I did my best to honor you. Ironically, you gave me the strength to honor you, haha. It boggles my mind when I stop to think about it. The more I try to pour blessings out to you, the more you bless me. The cycle doesn’t end, and I’m thankful. I pray everyone knows the power they have through you. How blessed we are! Let us never forget your kindness and mercy. And then tonight, even though we had tacos last night for dinner, Brenton wasn’t feeling well enough to eat, so of course we had homemade nachos (basically layered tacos) tonight for dinner so brenton wouldn’t miss his favorite meal. Aaaannnd I’m officially taco-ed out! Glory to Yahweh for chicken tomorrow night! I’m thankful for small miracles. And big miracles. I pray your healing and mercy on everyone who needs it, Jesus. We’re all in need, but I am hopeful in you.

*

What more can I say to the one who bears it all? I pray that this be exactly what it needs to be.Thank you for staying with me, always. For looking on me, always. I love you.

[boydchloe]

Cat Peeing Up Top Diy Ideas

There are many causes to this aggressive cat from scratching up the mess with a product that will help a bit harder to trust.If you're unable to keep your cat can not stand to be a sign of flea dirt - the disposable cat litter box could be spending your time cuddling up to you, follow you around wherever you go.Cat scratching is that there are new products that are now acclimatizing to being around other cats, so breeders must take it to a litter box.As time passes they should have teeth that are removed.

And I'm sure if you have to make it difficult to dissolve the longer term benefits of spaying/neutering is that you protect your furniture leaves both a lot of time at least 75 feet away form a well behaved and well behaved.Even cats which live indoors can get from the bottom of the family, or towards people?Here are some tips on how to teach a cat is sneezing because of the annoyances of an unwanted result.They will get use to excreting in the house, and start getting relief from this incredible vacuum cleaner.But your problems worsen if the mother uses it.

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For dogs with severe halitosis should go in.Secondly, a high-pitched alarm goes off, which most likely are not spraying around the house.Do not worry, you are not spayed or neutered and unneutered may spray cat repellent chemical due to some health issues such as feline panleukopenia.It can be used, which are usually pretty high with positive results during the bad behavior from them and it is important to offer your cat have?He wants to slip on, easy to let them roam around outside looking for better behaviour

If your cat stays indoors, you can even get scared and hides After you clean just one or two locations and you will find evidence of itching, such as excessive vomiting, loss of blood.This means they leave momma before or right at the end of things and give their cat that eventually had kittens next door, but brought her kittens soon after that.Are you allergic to cats, you will need to begin with, it is neither simple or painless.The key is to hang a few days, enjoying its feast of your cat, it is wise to take your choice of three kittens about twice the size of the issues of putting them down.Toys for your cat's mouth that break down the elements on their own.

What Makes A Boy Cat Spray

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Unless you plan on leaving your once-spotless floor with warm water and some are harmful to cats can jump so fix a taut wire across the top.Ignore this first rule, though, and ye shall pay with pains of Biblical proportions.As these products at your local pet supply store to trim them for once and for its surface to scratch to loosen its grip, with an air horn, or squirting him with a topical cat flea free.These enzyme cleaners available at all times is an unpleasant litter tray to make the motions of scratching is meant to maintain its claws into your home.That may be a health problem while the cat becomes pregnant before the animal off the last choice.

Ocicat: This is where cat owners have confirmed this works you'll be very rigid.He wants to find a solution then you decided to have your pet can prevent future unwanted behavior problems could be something medical, it could be caused by cats or serious case of the house?Let's take a long and requires continual reapplication in order to keep stray cats from prohibited areas by emitting a gas that's fatal to a vet.Other treatments include Cyproheptadine which was used to train your cat happy too.If you notice either of these signs in cats.

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Kong Catnip Spray Pets At Home

Old bedding and baskets should be shampoo.This will keep them away from home and awake - and the rest of the reasons for getting in and easy to do.Young cats use it if it hears a dog can be.If you only have a tendency to chew on them.Your cat is used to the point of all its kinds, whether they are territorial creatures and have managed to keep insects away.

You may bathe the cat, but I have any chance of starting up this behavior.Buy your own sanity and for objects being tossed across the top of the pain to the vet to see if there are enough litter to an adequate scratching solution.Many make use of mothballs, they are currently using, you can buy your litter box as the stickiness feels unpleasant to him in a consistent problem, so that he can easily make one available for your cat is spraying and avoiding her litter needs.The maintenance cost - some people express their love of a conflict problem with an infection for the short run, freeze.When the flea eggs may drop off onto carpeting or pet store you may have a cat, you will not happily tolerate intrusion unless deference is paid to it.

[ruminativerabbi]

‘Oumuamua

People seem to expect rabbis—and I’m sure other clergypeople too, but I speak of what I know—people somehow expect rabbis to find the study of science unsettling, off-putting, and slightly threatening. Paleontologists have proven that dinosaurs existed, but they’re not mentioned in the Bible. Geologists have proven categorically that the world is something like 4.404 billion years old, but if you add up all those “begats” featured in Scripture you can barely get our planet’s age over 6000. Anthropologists have proven the existence of all sorts of classes of humanoid life that preceded our own, but the Bible describes Adam, the first man, as a fully recognizable example of Homo sapiens sapiens—our own subspecies—who is able from the get-go to speak, to till the soil, and to sew leaves into skirts. All of these are served up regularly as examples of reasons for people of faith to be wary about data that appears to contradict the simple meaning of the biblical narrative, but I’ve never been able to buy into that kind of skittishness. Indeed, the simple thought that, logically speaking, no two true statements can ever contradict each other—all truths by definition being congruent with all other truths—that seems to me a far more solid foundation on which to stand when viewing the world in its fullness and attempting to commune meaningfully with its Creator. The challenge, of course, is to find a way to fit all the pieces of the puzzle into a coherent whole without turning away from inconvenient, irritating, or disturbing data, which effort requires above all else not super-human intelligence but rather a deep sense of humility. Arrogance, not science, is the enemy of faith.

I’ve been thinking about the relationship between science and religion a lot since I began reading about ‘Oumuamua, a cigar-shaped reddish rock about 800 meters (that is, about 2624 feet) long that just recently passed by the earth on its journey from somewhere to somewhere else. (Its very apt name is derived from the Hawaiian for “messenger arriving from afar.”) When it was first noticed by scientists from the University of Hawaii’s Institute for Astronomy peering through the Pan-STARRS1 telescope located at the Haleakala Observatory last month, it looked like “just” another asteroid. Then, for a while, they though it was “just” a comet. Then, noting that ‘Oumuamua lacked most of the basic characteristics of comets, they went back to labelling it an asteroid…but the story has turned out to be much more complex than that.

In fact, ‘Oumuamua is now believed to be the first interstellar object within our own solar system that scientists have managed unambiguously to identify as such. Where it came from, no one can say. How long it travelled through interstellar space to get here is also unknown, as is its chemical composition. The most logical explanation for its existence has to do with the theory that, when solar systems are formed—and there are countless solar systems out there, there 2,701 planetary systems already identified by scientists almost definitely being the tiniest sampling of what scientists think are probably tens of billions of them out there in the cosmos—when these planets-around-a-central-star systems are formed, some material is cast off towards the edge of the system and then travels off into interstellar space where it might possibly one day chance upon some other solar system. The scientists’ assumption is that ‘Oumuamua is such a piece of rejected rock that has flown along for countless eons before coming unawares to visit for a while in our house.

It is definitely not from here. For one thing, it’s moving much too fast to have originated in our solar system. (The so-called “asteroid belt” between the orbits of Mars and Jupiter contains about 750,000 asteroids or comets, some of them hundreds of miles wide, so their common properties are well known.) For another, ‘Oumuamua’s orbit pattern is unlike any “normal” meteor or asteroid as well, which makes it impossible for it to have started out anywhere around here. And it’s already sort of gone—at least from the purview of land-based telescopes like the one in Hawaii. The Hubble Space Telescope and the Spitzer Space Telescopes, in orbit since 1990 and 2003 respectively, can see it still and will be able to watch it pass by Mars next month. But after that it will disappear from even the Hubble and the Spitzer as, traveling at a speed of 28 miles per second, ‘Oumuamua finally passes by Jupiter next May. These are very big distances we’re imagining here: it will need until 2022 to pass by Neptune and will only arrive near Pluto in 2024. And then ‘Oumuamua will be gone for good. Or at least gone from our view, from our gaze…if not entirely from our imaginations.

Other than with reference to their common cigar-like shape, ‘Oumuamua is not anything like the spaceship that brought baby Kal-El to Kansas after Krypton blew up. It has no passengers, is not packed with data intended to document a distant but now-long-lost civilization, was not “sent” to us by anyone at all. And yet it speaks to me…and profoundly and suggestively.

Like the prophets of old, ‘Oumuamua has slipped past the gates of our solar system to stand up briefly in our planetary town square and tell us something deeply unsettling…about ourselves, about our place in the world, about the unreasonableness of our wholly unearned arrogance with respect to the rest of the universe. I can imagine ‘Oumuamua taking a quick look at the earth as it whizzes by us, noting our greatest accomplishments—our most impressive buildings and bridges, our most exquisite artwork, our vast libraries containing at least most of the 130 million books published since the dawn of printing, our space-based telescopes that allow us to see farther into the cosmos than any human beings before us ever could have dreamt of seeing.  And I imagine it chuckling to itself as it prepares to deliver its brief message before disappearing forever:

You have invented an incredibly complex system of culture and society, whereas I am a piece of reddish rock flying aimlessly through space. I am bound to no planet, to no solar system, to no master at all. I don’t even have the burden of a specific name: my name (in this, rather like your prophet Moses) is just something one of your people made up the better to speak of me to others. But I have been places you not only haven’t seen but can’t even begin reasonably to imagine. And, unlike yourselves, my journey will end so far in the future that even I cannot imagine what it would mean for that many years to pass, just as you surely also can’t. So we are nothing alike!

Or are we?  After all, you too cannot say from whence you come, from what source your soul arrived in you and granted you personality, identity, and a sense of self real enough to distinguish you from every other living creature.  Nor can you say where you are going when your time comes to abandon life to the living and move on to the next stage of existence. So you don’t know where I have come from and you don’t really know where you came from either. You don’t know where I’m going and you don’t know where you’re going either. Maybe we’re more alike than we both thought at first!

We’re both here for the twinkling of an eye, for a moment, for the amount of interstellar time that matches the time it takes one an earthling to take a single breath. Yes, I am traveling at 28 miles per second, which speed none of you could ever attain. But you are traveling at breakneck speed through the days and years of your lives nonetheless…and, just as I cannot, so also are you unable to slow down or, even if it were possible theoretically, to speed up. You can only move forward, just like me, day by day, month by month, year by year…as destiny brings us both to the edge of what we know of the world and then propels us into the part of which we know nothing at all. So look upon me therefore and see, not a piece of space garbage, but a sermon in stone, a lesson, a thought worth pondering. We’re both here for a moment and then gone to whatever awaits us past the boundaries of knowledge and experience. I’ve gotten used to my journey and I’m making the best of what time I have here. (I have been on the move for hundreds of millions of your earth years, after all.) I suggest you do the same!

And that is why I neither fear nor feel threatened by science. If God is the truth of the world, then how can any true statement be other than divine praise? If God exists in reality, then how can anything else that exists threaten faith? If ‘Oumuamua is part of God’s universe, then who is to say that it didn’t come our way to teach us a lesson or to deliver a sermon…possibly even the one I wrote for it and presented above.

[nightcoremoon]

I typically don't eat very much meat on a day to day basis. usually I just eat granola, pasta, rice and beans, peanut butter and nacho cheese doritos, tomato and vegetable soup, and lots and lots of fruit. sometimes I'll have grilled cheese, eggs, and I do drink milk on a daily basis. maybe once a week I'll eat something with chicken or beef in it, but the meat I eat the most is tuna. when I'm in financial dire straights I'll eat ramen since it's a quarter each. but I have to feed myself on a very low budget, and oftentimes that calls for including meat, since my body can't digest beans well, and peanut butter can't be the primary source of protein in your life, and nuts trigger some sensory issues, and I think soy is really bad for you, and quinoa is expensive as fuck because of the flying it in and the slave labor because capitalism is evil. regardless, the point is, I don't eat that many meat and animal products in the long run. I don't subsist entirely on bacon cheeseburgers. I don't live breathe and eat an entire cow at a time. I eat just enough to keep me alive. I don't appreciate being told I'm a bad person for this.

I don't appreciate assholes who bully people on the internet for being in the same position as me. I don't appreciate self righteous pieces of fucking garbage who send waves and waves of anon hate to people who don't just let them be dicks in peace. I especially loathe the kind of person who has more respect for literal pigs than for actual human beings, comparing the lives of black, jewish, muslim, gay, trans, poor, disabled, mentally ill, autistic, and culinarily minded individuals to animals. do you realize how fucked that is? to care more about stupid fucking LIVESTOCK than about your fellow man and to let it govern your every waking moment? it's bullshit and I won't stand for it. I'm a good person. My mind doesn't let me believe it most times but I know in my heart that I always have the best interests of all humanity at the front of my mind. I respect every single human life who is not literally evil, a genocidal fascist, wants to kill me or anyone else based on something as trivial as our demographics. I was with a girl two nights ago and I was just a few steps away from having sex with somebody for the first time in my entire life which is something that the dark bits in the back of my mind have tried endlessly and tirelessly to accomplish, but she said she didn't want to do that so I didn't, and it was one of the easiest decisions I have ever made in my entire life, no matter how much I actually wanted to do it, no matter how much the intrusive thoughts told me to do it anyway. I didn't. Because I know that that's just a part of my mental illness, because I know it isn't really me saying or wanting or attempting the doing of those things, and the real me is one of the nicest people in the fucking world. So many other people tell me that I am but I disagree with them so often. I've had to work so hard to get to a point where I don't hate myself, where I can actually look at my face in the mirror and hear myself sing to the songs I love and take care of myself, things I never did in the past.

Granted, part of that has a little to do with my transition, but it's still relevant. I'm there, or as close to there as I've ever been. I still slip here and there, I still don't have a clean room, I still don't bathe as often as I need to, I still have a whole hell of a lot of sleeping problems, I still sometimes go a day without eating any food. Yesterday I passed out at work because I hadn't eaten any *real* food in a couple of days. Food is something that I struggle with, but it's the one thing that I've never lost interest in for a future career for my entire life. Cooking is very special to me and it's something that I enjoy doing when literally everything else I can do- video games, youtube, netflix, anime, books, music, I even enjoy cleaning somewhat- brings me zero joy, tastes like mashed potatoes, isn't even doable at my lowest. And I cook the most comfortably with meat, eggs, dairy, and all the things that vegans would literally crucify me for if they saw me touching it. And I refuse to feel any amount of guilt for that.

My life is worth more than that of an animal that is bred specifically for being eaten and nothing else. My life is worth more than any animal that exists. My life is worth more than a dozen, than two dozen, than one hundred cows or chickens or pigs or goats or sheep or any other edible animal. My life is worth more than the collective lives of all the animals that I already have, am, and will ever eat. And the same goes for any other human being alive on this planet who is not a literal nazi. Biblically, man was given full dominion over animals. Scientifically, man has evolved to be at the top of the food chain, but second only to wolves, bears, boars, big cats, birds of prey, giant lizards, and any other kind of animal that can, will, and has eaten humans. Either way, if predatory or omnivorous animals are allowed to eat other animals, we are too.

I refuse to bully vegans. I refuse to seek them out and send anon hate mail. I refuse to bring myself down to the level of the disgusting and hateful militant ones who say the shit that just boils my blood over. I actually have friends who are vegans. My sister is a self ID'd vegetarian who doesn't eat most animal products so she's kind of one in everything but name. I support their lifestyle choices and am not a dickhead to them anymore. And I will defend to the death their choice to reject societal norms and try in whatever small way they can to fight against animal cruelty. I try to eat only from reputable sources that don't make it as inhumane as is physically possible. The key word there is try. Some places don't have any information on how or where they get their meat from. But even if it is from someplace that sucks ass because of capitalism, I'd like to break down capitalism and rebuild it from the ground up, hopefully in a way that keeps unfair treatment from negatively affecting any living creature aside from maybe bugs because the moment vegans start chanting #ANT LIVES MATTER, I will begin subsisting entirely on meat out of pure spite.

Because spite runs me. Every time I see some militant vegans being a dickhead, I go and eat meat. I'm petty like that. It tastes amazing and it costs so much less than organic quinoa does. I won't feel bad for it. You can't make me feel bad for it. You won't. And I'll speak up if you try to make anyone else feel bad for it because some other people haven't developed the tools necessary to not internalize anon hate. The reason for this is that I love humans more than you love animals. And that makes me a better person than you ever will be. So go ahead and enjoy your cold potatoes smeared in ketchup. I want you to eat whatever you want. But if you don't in return respect the dietary choices or sometimes forced restrictions of us 'carnists' as you so eloquently put it... I sincerely hope that you choke on them. Go fuck yourselves, asshole militant vegans who tell people to kill themselves just because they eat some meat. You're a bunch of bags of dicks, so go eat one.

[popcultureliterary]

Allusions: A Literary Niche

When we talk, we often make references to popular culture in order to convey information quickly. If a person says “Sam acts like such a Romeo,” they mean that Sam is a romantic person. Calling the internet a Garden of Eden shows that the internet is a plentiful place that fills the needs of its users. We don’t usually stop to explain these references to our listeners; we assume that they have prior knowledge on the subject and thus understand. These references are called allusions, and they appear in many elements of pop culture.

It’s an Illusion Allusion

Allusions can encompass references to a wide range of people or things: literary works, religious texts, movies, political figures, historical figures, TV shows… the list is nearly endless. Some of the most common ones include biblical, historical, Greek Myth, and literary.

Authors and other creative minds use this literary device to quickly convey complex concepts and emotions in a simple, easy to understand manner. It also allows the creator to appeal to specific groups of people. When trying to appeal to a Japanese audience, for instance, a writer might allude to Japanese celebrities or legends.

In many cases, these literary devices can slip in quickly, mattering only for a moment or two (just like the above allusion to Arrested Development).

Elementary, My Dear Watson

Sometimes one of the hardest aspects of allusion is recognizing them when you hear or see them. If you’re not familiar with the reference, it might go right over your head. I regularly have to stop conversations with my friends in order to ask them to clarify what they mean when they compare someone to a celebrity. In today’s popular games, comics, and shows, many allusions slip in as a nod to other works or the surrounding culture as well.

If you’re searching for examples, keep an ear out for unfamiliar names and places. Take a moment to look the name or place up to see if it is a reference or just a name drop for world building. Doing this can help you gain some insight into the scene or characters.

Likewise, any time a character says something that sounds out of character, unlike their usual speech pattern, or comes off as rehearsed, consider the fact that they might be quoting something. Everyone’s favorite super powered gorilla from Overwatch, Winston, offers a great example. When re-spawning, Winston occasionally says “once more unto the breach.” On its own, the line sounds a little odd. What does he mean by breach? Investigating the line reveals that it is a quote from Shakespeare’s play, Henry V. What does that say about Winston’s character?

A Niche Allusion

Now that we’ve discussed this literary device, let’s take a look at another example from pop culture.

In Niche: A Genetics Survival Game, the player starts out with two critters to establish their tribe: a male named Adam and a female named Eve, allusions to the biblical story of creation. The names serve to quickly establish these two creatures as the origin points of the player’s tribe. As a bonus, using a biblical allusion to start out can help developers appeal to players with backgrounds in religions that study The Bible.

Sometimes, allusions have unintended consequences. Starting with this particular one gives Niche a lonely, isolated feeling at first. In the biblical tale, Adam and Eve are the first and only beings of their kind. They live in an isolated paradise and understand that no other creatures of their kind exist. Fortunately, this is not the case with the starting creatures. They do serve as the origin of a new tribe, but the player quickly finds other members of the species wandering around the grassland. Wanderers show that the player is not stuck with the weighty task of starting an entire species from scratch. Failure won’t mean extinction.

Presumably, Adam and Eve wandered off from their tribe or tribes somewhere in the timeline leading up to the moment the player joins them. Whether in search of food, mates, or by mistake, we do not know. However, encountering wanderers suggests that members of this species regularly leave their tribes. Knowing this makes Adam and Eve’s starting situation more ordinary.

Creative works don’t have to strictly follow the rules surrounding the allusion, and they don't usually do so either. Once the allusion serves its purpose, the narrative is free to move on. Niche players familiar with The Bible’s story might jump to the conclusion that Adam and Eve are the only members of the species, only to learn that this is not true. Similarly, they might conclude that their Adam and Eve live in an Eden-type utopia like the one from the story. They will quickly discover, however, that the grassland around them is no paradise. Their growing tribe has to work together in order to coordinate gathering food and fighting off roving predators to survive. Of course, what kind of survival game would take place in a paradise (other than a frightening dystopian one that quickly reveals that the paradise is not nearly as wonderful as it seems)?

Wrapping Up

Allusions offer fun ways for authors to reference other creative works, or they can serve more practical purposes by quickly conveying concepts in simple ways. Some are more difficult to spot than others.

Before we wrap up, I wanted to give a shout-out to YouTuber Lostmarmot, who makes Let’s Play videos for Niche (among other games). The screenshots that I used for this post came from her channel. If you want to see some of the Niche gameplay or watch delightful Let's Plays, I recommend giving her videos a watch. They’re such a treat. Lostmarmot is a charming gamer and really puts a lot of heart into her videos.

What are your favorite allusions from shows, games, comics, or movies? Share them in the comments! You can also connect on Twitter at @Popliterature, or send a message.

And as always, if you have a literary device you want to know more about, or a game, comic, show, or movie that you want to see make an appearance on the blog, leave a shout-out in the comments!

[supernaturalimaginesforyou-blog]

Forever with the Devil (Chapter 1)

„What do you mean?“ Lucifer talked nervously, turning his back to Chloe, so she couldn't hear the phone conversation he was currently having with Maze.

As he took a few steps away from her and started to speak in a more quiet tone, Chloe got curious. Since Trixie was in school and Dan was working, there was no one in Chloe's house except her and Lucifer. Silence surrounded them. The detective could only hear bits of the conversation, since she wasn't able to hear what was Maze saying.

She didn't even manage to see the distress and utter panic that covered Lucifer's face, since his back was facing her the whole time.

„...Yes, I-I...“, Lucifer sighed heavily.

That was the first time Chloe heard him stutter. If she didn't know better, she would even say his voice cracked a little.

„I'll be right there, don't do anything without me.“, he ordered harshly and hung up hurriedly.

Chloe approached him and put a hand on his shoulder gently. The fabric of the expensive suit was smooth against her soft hand. Her light touch made him turn around and look at her.

„Is everything okay?“ she asked.

She tried to cover up her shock upon seeing his pale, worried face expression and his anxious stance. He looked like someone sucked the life right out of him.

„I have to go.“, he muttered and quickly went to the doors.

„What happened?“ Chloe insisted, going after him.

Lucifer was near his car in an instant, ignoring Chloe's questions.

„You're clearly upset, you can't drive in this state.“, she said, taking him by the arm so he would look up to her. „Let me drive.“

„No.“, he answered briskly, his jaw clenching. „I have to go. Alone.“

Not bothering to return her gaze or even say goodbye, he turned on the engine and drove off as fast as possible. Chloe stood there for a moment, contemplating what to do, but then quickly got her car keys and went after him. For the first time since she met Lucifer, she saw him out of character, not being his usual, chatty and flirty self. Something serious must've happened and whatever it was, she wanted to help her friend. She wanted to make sure he was alright, the same way he cared for her when she was feeling miserable.

The whole ride to the beach, Lucifer's mind kept running through possible scenarios that could've led to this rather unusual turn of events. Niether of them seemed even remotely plausible. He couldn't pinpoint exactly what was he feeling at the moment. He just wanted to hurry, see if Maze was right.

But, she couldn't be.

Lucifer was convinced that this was some kind of a joke. A bad trick that somebody wanted to play on him. If that were the case, the Devil himself will make sure that he invents a new kind of pain for the creator of this twisted scheme.

L.A. streets were quite busy and the sunset was only a few minutes away.

And that meant Chloe could follow Lucifer easily.

Little did she know, he couldn't be bothered with humans right now. He was too busy speeding to his destination and dealing with something that meant a great deal to him. He was so agitated that, even if a dragon wrapped in tin foil chased his car this very moment, he wouldn't even flinch.

Upon arrival, he immediately spotted Maze, tapping with her heel while standing in one place, her arms folded under her chest. Her face was almost a reflection of Lucifer's; uneasy, anguished and almost horrified. The usual anger that illuminated her face was gone.

They were on the beach in a second, rushing towards a spot that Maze told him about over the phone. Niether of them were aware of the detective catching up.

The waves were splashing, hitting the shore a bit harder than usual. The night was setting and it was quite odd that the temperatue rose as they walked on the beach. The warm air surrounded Maze and Lucifer, standing a few feet away from what appeared to be a lifeless body spread out on the sand, clothed only in a tight, white dress, but now splotched with blood and dirt. It was enough to cover her thin and tall body, but not nearly enough to conceal the magnificent grey wings which were currently filthy, not shining bright like they once used to, also spread out onto the wet sand.

„The Queen...“, Maze whispered. „It's really her.“

Chloe was not far, so hearing the demon call a winged creature her queen made her more confused than ever. She knew about Lucifer, him being the Devil and all that, but she was almost completely sure she couldn't stand seeing any more supernatural and/or biblical beings. This was too much for her. Nevertheless, she remained still, probably even frozen in shock. Trying to pinch herself to see if she's dreaming didn't work.

What stunned her most was seeing Lucifer.

Again, she couldn't see his face, but she saw his shoulders tense under the dark suit. If she could see that tear which slipped down his cheek, she would've thought that she went absoutely mental. She wanted to reach out to him when she saw him falling down on his knees in defeat.

He couldn't move, couldn't run up to the body on the ground, shake her, yell at her, do anything in order to wake her up. His body was almost petrified from sudden grief and shock that overflowed him. Maze, feeling only a tad better, had managed to make a few steps forward and then kneeled down. She closed his eyes for a brief moment and bowed her head, feeling angry and frustrated, her teeth gritting. She yelled and punched the ground near the body, making sand scatter around. Chloe flinched at that, almost feeling scared.

A few moments later, Maze stood up. She kept her head high up like always, but this time in fake confidence.

Gazing towards Lucifer, who was still stiff, his eyes mournful, not removing his stare from the gorgeous face on the ground, she noticed another thing from the corner of her eye.

„Detective Decker.“, she said through clenched teeth.

„...What the hell are you doing here?!“ Mazikeen shouted, sending chills run down Chloe's spine.

Despite that, she stood up and walked away from her hiding spot, trying not to look so perplexed or scared. She was busted.

„Did you get her here?“ Maze turned her attention to Lucifer, asking in disbelief.

At that, he finally snapped himself back to real time and away from his thoughts.

Without turning around to face Chloe after he got up, he spoke sullenly and harshly. „Get her out of here, Mazikeen.“

The dark-haired woman obliged, walking up to the blonde while sending her the best evil glare she could muster at that point. In the same time, the King of Hell moved to his Queen. His hand went to her cheek, brushing his fingers lightly against her pale, soft skin. He could hear Chloe arguing with Maze behind him, but the voices of the two women quickly dissipated from his mind. He couldn't hear the waves crashing on the shore either. All he could think about, all he could focus onto, was her.

„Is it really you, my darling?“ Lucifer whispered, now taking her hand in his.

As soon as his fingers intertwined with her droopy ones, her eyes suddenly opened and she gasped for breath.

Lucifer could hear the waves again and both women stopped arguing immediately. They were all looking at the winged woman now.

„Lucifer...“, her voice was light, but croaky, it was like she woke up from a long slumber and her vocal cords were still recovering.

The Devil himself had teary eyes.

„I...“, her voice was wobbly too. „I love you...“

And with that, she was gone again. Her eyes closed and her head dropped on the sand, with her hands becoming limp.

„No!“ Lucifer yelled. „Come back! No! You can't do that again!“

Chloe shivered when she heard him yell like that.

She never heard his voice laced with so much pain, sorrow and indignation all at once. Maze let her go, almost pushing her away, and then went over to Lucifer, so she could help him. With shaky hands, they raised her up, being especially careful with her wings, while the detective still stood frozen in place. She didn't know the proper course of action in this kind of situation. That is why she followed Maze and Lucifer, carrying the woman to his convertible and settling her in the back carefully. They both ignored Chloe, hurrying into their cars so they can drive off.

„Lucifer, I...“, Chloe started.

But, he quickly interrupted her. „Whatever you want to say, don't. You were not supposed to be here, therefore leave.“

She could've sworn that she saw his dark eyes flash red for a second, but she brushed it off. Before she could think of anything to say, he drove off, his tires squealing.

[tastebudstalk-blog1]

Sweet Spot Sunday

Today, we met with Quasia Elle.  She chose a spot that wasn’t exactly easy to find, but what a diamond in the rough.  I gifted her a pocket sized journal that I wrapped in pink tissue paper.  I concluded pink was her favorite color based on her Tumblr and hoped my lurk skills didn’t fail me now.  Dressed in all black with a camouflage dad hat that read A Tribe Called Quest, I must admit her presence made me nervous.  It’s not anything she said or did, but as awkward as she was looking for me without much needed corrective lenses, she presented a confidence I hadn’t experienced in awhile.  

TB:  Where did you get your hat from?  Supa fly.

Quasia Elle:  If I tell you, I have to kill you.  And killing you after you’ve given me this awesome gift is just rude (laughs). 

TB: So, why this place?

Quasia Elle: I have a serious sweet tooth.  Like, I should probably go to some sort of addictions counseling, but there’s so much comfort and peace in bake shops and great quality desserts.  The Little Cupcake Bakeshop is no different.  It took awhile, but I finally found a place that offers icing as good as the cake.  I had to bring you here.  There’s also an amazing bookstore right next door, You shouldn’t visit one without the other.

TB: What book(s) are you currently reading?

Quasia Elle: I always reference Think and Grow Rich by Napoleon Hill when I feel myself slipping.  It’s a guidebook about the manifestation of money.  An ex’s mom blessed me for Christmas a few years ago, literally changed my life.  I’m also reading a witty, biography/ reference book by Anne Lamott called Bird by Bird.  This was suggested by an English teacher I met on a bus from upstate to NYC.  Great read for writers, specifically.  What are you reading?

TB: I tend to continuously go back to A Rose That Grew From The Concrete by Tupac.  The more my knowledge of Black American history and Hip Hop expands, the more I feel I understand him and can carry out his primary messages for the culture.  My current read is The Jungle by Upton Sinclair.  This one is contextually accurate considering Trump’s beef with immigrants.  If you’ve read this book, I just gave a top ten pun of the year (laughs).

Quasia Elle:  Oh my God, I’m coming out of the ocean because you need to stop (laughs).  The Jungle is one of my favorite books of all time.  Gave a book report about it in AP Literature in high school.  Thinking back on it, I amazed myself at how well I articulated certain things from a book that wasn’t read all the way through at the time. 

TB: What do you suggest for me to try, considering this is my first time here?

Quasia Elle: I’m a creature of habit, so probably the wrong one to suggest, BUT, i’m confident in this spot enough to say, Russian roulette!  You’ll be fine (laughs). The classics, vanilla bean and red velvet, are really good, and I’ve heard good things about the unorthodox of blue velvet and princess dream.  Mad cute.  Logically speaking, you don’t want to pay $3 for one cupcake, but it’s Brooklyn.  When in Rome...

TB: When did your sweet tooth addiction start?

Quasia Elle:  I’ve always enjoyed sweets, my Mee-Mee has a bunch of traditions that include them especially during the holidays.  But when I realized I had no self control was while studying for finals at Alabama.  I bought a dozen of Krispy Kreme donuts, juiced up on espresso, and found myself finishing 12 donuts in 6 hours.

TB: That sounds eventful.  Would you say you have any other addictions?

Quasia Elle:  Does being in love count?

TB:  Elaborate.

Quasia Elle:  They say chocolate and love release similar endorphins.  Whatever chemically happening, correlating the two, I lose my shit over.

TB: Are you in love right now?

Quasia Elle:  I am.  Although we’re separated, he will always deserve my love.  He’s one of the best human beings I’ve ever met.  For the sake of my productivity, I can’t dwell in the confusion of it all.  What’s meant to be, already is.

TB: What do you mean by confusion?

Quasia Elle:  I think that deep down, we all know exactly what we want to do with love.  Whether that’s moving in together, or simply asking someone out on the first date.  But, we choose to sit in confusion, wasting time, thinking God is going to visit us in our dreams to say, “Now’s the time Daniel.”  It just doesn’t happen that way.  You have to take control of your own life and pray God provides the resources, standing as confirmation.  Take a chance on your happiness, being scary only limits your life experiences.

TB: Would you say these are unhealthy addictions?  Sweets and love?

Quasia Elle: An addiction is unhealthy in its form by definition.  Too much of anything can kill you, so yes.  They’re extremely unhealthy.  But I fast them, amongst other things, to keep myself in check and aligned with God.

TB:  You mind talking about God?  You’ve referenced Him twice in a row.

Quasia Elle:  Because that’s my best friend, go best friend (laughs).  What is it you want to know about our relationship exactly?

TB: Well, how do you know He’s real and what religion do you identify with?

Quasia Elle:  Because I see Him in you, this moment.  I see Him in my family and friends that never let me fall, and the only thing that has kept me from leaving this world prematurely, or before His calling, is Him. I don’t necessarily identify with a religion, per-say, but I have a tattoo that says “Israelite”.  I don’t believe in Jews and Gentiles in physical form, everything is spiritual to me.  So, as an Israelite, spiritually, I fight and prevail with God.  That’s the biblical definition for how Jacob was renamed Israel after his fight with an angel for his blessing.

TB: What would you say to an Atheist? 

Quasia Elle:  Well, like my Mee-Mee told me, “If judgement day comes and this is all a hoax I have nothing to lose.  But if that day comes and this is in fact real, and I chose not to believe in anything, I have EVERYTHING to lose.”  Stay thirsty my friends.

TB: Speaking of grandparents, they definitely grew up in a time period quite different from ours.  They seem more in tune with family, nature, the “simpler things”, if you will.  Why do you think this generation lacks those appreciations?

Quasia Elle:  We have a lot more distractions, a lot more falsely prioritized, priorities, if that makes any sense.  A lot of us have anxiety after we post a photo, a short fused superficial gratification.  It’s just not healthy for anyone’s mental or emotional state.  But we keep going back.  It’s an abusive relationship.  While we’ve advanced in areas like medicine and communication because of it, I think we’ve also fallen short the same way.

TB: Are you making a general statement that millennials are pieces of shit? 

Quasia Elle:  (laughs) I mean, that’s unfair because there are always exceptions to any rule.  You do have people balancing the real world and the matrix, very healthily.  I’m just saying it’s extremely hard to find, myself included.  I study my Twitter feed.  I’m not being creepy, but majoring in Psychology starts odd habits.  I see how people talk to and about one another, how everyone’s defense mechanism is inhumanly joking or being angry.  And the more you submerge yourself in it, the more you take on that energy.  I swear I hate going on social when tragic events have happened.  It’s disheartening.  We lack kindness and community, something generations before us had to have because of societal and political reforming.  We’re spoiled.  Trump is the first negative impact we have to directly deal with as adults, like seriously.  That’s not just a millennial trait though, people are screwed up.  But, you have this entity, the Internet, that just harnesses, and provokes this dark energy.  And it’s hard to pull away from.  It’s a Siren (if you guys are familiar with Mythology).  It’s mad scary.     

TB: You said you went to UAB?

Quasia Elle:  This is your second time trying to die during this interview (laughs).  I went to THE University of Alabama.  Roll Tide.

TB:  What does that mean?

Quasia Elle: Literally anything you need it to mean.  YouTube the ESPN Roll Tide commercial, circa 2010.

TB:  How was your college experience there?

Quasia Elle:  The best moments and accomplishments of my life.  I attended a small school before I transferred there though, Clayton State University.  But, it wasn’t enough of an experience for me.  I used to watch those corny 90′s- 00′s movies that were located on big campuses, How High is my all time favorite reference for that.  I claimed something I wanted, and my experience was exactly what I thought it would be like.  Not to mention I met lifelong friends that have the illest Birmingham accents.  I love country dialect.        

TB: One last question... what is your definition of success, as if you’re speaking to someone who looks up to you or someone simply looking for guidance?

Quasia Elle: Success is happiness and financial freedom, by the standards of your lifestyle.  It’s one hundred and ten percent subjective.  Be practical, first and foremost.  You have bills to pay, please don’t relinquish good standing in credit by the notion of “for the art.”  Even if you’re couching it somewhere I pray you have a safe box with 50% of your savings, the other 50 is in a savings account that is extremely easy for you to deposit, but difficult to withdraw from.  Write out your goals, a million times over until your spirit is so drawn to what you’ve manifested, that you truly understand sacrifice to get it.  And be conscious of the time.  As Ray Lewis said, “How much time you gone waste?  Every decision you make you gotta ask, does this decision influence where I’m ultimately trying to go?”  

TB:  Well then, Roll Tide.

Quasia Elle ordered a red velvet cupcake and homemade vanilla ice cream.  I tried the personal cheesecake.  We talked a bit more about politics, sports, her tiny home obsession, and this library she’s building in hopes of dramatically dying by her right of knowledge like in Fahrenheit 451.  How she wants to make sure her nephew doesn’t end up in prison like his father, and how being the best of every title is her goal.  She takes extreme pride in being a sister, (best) friend, daughter, cousin, employee, employer, and wherever else she can find purpose by service.  She truly believes she is only placed here to service other people, and in that finds extreme happiness.  She also mentioned that her mother is in need of a second kidney transplant, so although a huge request to ask, if anyone is willing or knows of someone willing, please reach out.

She is a timid spirit, yet full of hope and laughter.  She has experienced traumatic pain, but somehow finds her way back to the surface.  Her current works include a blog that “redefines success and highlights vulnerability to create a culture of healing and healers.”  She titles it Taste, Buds and I’m excited to see where she goes in her writing career and encourage others to watch, support, and reach out to her as well.    

The Little Cupcake Bakeshop is located in Brooklyn, at 9102 3rd Ave.  There are other locations, but this was the one specifically chosen.  It’s open late, 11pm,  for that “late night fix” and I quote our addict.