#yet they like froth at the mouth for any excuse to label him a villain

[coockie8]

God, Sonic X lol You know Sonic is a genuinely pure-hearted person despite his flaws, 'cause if my friend-group had that little faith in me as a person after I had saved every single one of their lives and the entire planet on multiple occasions, I would literally never speak to these people lmao

Yes, I am at the Sunshine Ball episodes XD

[fyodorsuggestions]

Dance while we Burn

The spray of blood is messy, the arc of it perfect, the spatter of it beautiful. Oh is there anything better than this, can there be anything better? So many freed of the sin of existing so simply and so easily, without a second to suffer, without the breath to scream. This is easy, this is simple, this is kind. No bullets tearing through muscle and bone, bringing pain with them and taking lives as they go. No knives slicing through throats and leaving nothing but searing agony in their wake, no bones breaking, snapping, cracking under unnatural pressures.

There is no God of War on a rampage here, no fire racing through the streets and eating men whole. There is no God of Light searing the infidels and burning sins with Their divinity. There is no Goddess of the Hunt tearing through the poor domesticated cattle. There are no boys with birds’ feathers stuck to their arms, there are no wolves prowling by, there are no rich Kings or mad dogs, there are no exotic pets or idealistic fools.

There is nothing but a silent spectre bringing death, there is no delusional psychopath waging his war against innocents. If there is a God here, if I am it, then I am the one who seeks to soothe the world. I am the one who wants nothing more than equality and innocence, purity, I want to scrub the earth clean; scrub, scrape until my fingers bleed. And if I can’t, if the filth is a stain, if the corruption is too deep, then I will raze it all to the ground and salt the earth after me.

Isn’t that what a just God would do? Isn’t that what a good God does? To protect the people He so loves, to bless them and protect them, wouldn’t He destroy the devils underfoot to save a soul? So tell me, is what I’m doing so wrong then?

“Is it? Tell me if you want,” I murmur as another body falls to the ground, another of many, a woman with soft brown hair. She didn’t have a chance to suffer, my curse is merciful at least, as violent as her death is she felt none of it. Dead the instant my fingers brushed the nape of her neck, dead before she could even feel my presence behind her because all of humanity deserves a swift death.

I smile as I leave her there, bleeding out onto the already bloody tiles. The entire building gets to look like a sadistic madman’s macabre wax house, full of figures so carefully crafted they can’t be real and so bloodied you hope they aren’t. Oh but they are and I’m not, a madman, crazed maybe but not insane. Flitting from room to room, feeling my heart racing in my veins as I slip behind all of these poor unfortunate souls and release them from this pitiful existence as I was meant to do.

Hiding behind screens works but only to a point. There comes a time when you need to do these things yourself and if my servants would prefer to do nothing but bitterly serve then I won’t use them. If my dear worshippers want to go back on their belief then I won’t stop them but I won’t trust them either. No, if the Wolf wants to accuse and claim I’m so much worse than him, then who am I to contradict his beliefs? A better man would transcend the label, a foolish man would fall for the machinations and a stupid man would even twist his own morality to sate the hunger under his skin.

“Isn’t it convenient I am greater than Man then?” I laugh as I slip on a smear of blood and crash into a wall. The impact of it is enough to snap my teeth together and blur my vision, it hurts, oh it hurts, but I don’t really care. The laughter bubbling and boiling in my throat scalds my tongue as it pours out of my mouth, it burns my lips as froths past them; crazed isn’t the word for this but it isn’t sane either.

Laughter ringing through a morbid house of horrors should be crazed shouldn’t it? Bouncing off the walls, dancing down the halls, it should send chills down the spines of whoever’s left alive, it should act as herald and death bell but this isn’t that. Throwing my head back as I dash down the corridor, slipping and sliding through puddles of blood, this isn’t how a madman acts or sounds. My laughter is joyous, almost reckless and wild, childish? Am I nothing but a psychotic child playing at being God?

“Oh does it matter?” I snicker as I crash into a door hard enough to bounce off it, hard enough to tell the last few people alive that their death’s arrived. The last few people in this restaurant who don’t even realise what’s going on, who probably won’t right up til they’re slumping to the ground.

“Hello, can I help you?” a woman asks as I let myself in and she’s all bright smiles and innocent eyes. She looks like any other manager of any other restaurant, inconspicuous and approachable even though any other manager would’ve already called for security when a strange man walks into their office. She doesn’t know who I am but she’s used to well dressed people filtering through her office as they please, she probably didn’t even care when I slammed against her door because this normal.

When you work for the mafia, laundering their money and giving their people safe places to be, then everything’s normal. Having security cameras on you at all times with no access to the footage is normal, keeping strange hours because you never know who might need your services is normal. For the amount she’s being paid, normal can look like anything, for the amount she’s being paid she doesn’t deserve to burn with the rest of them but the world’s hardly ever that fair.

“Maybe,” I tell her, smiling as she shifts behind her desk, as she glances past me to the open door. They don’t leave door open when they conduct business, they don’t smile as her like this, they don’t bite their fingers and I think she realises. I think she realises something’s not quite right as I reach her desk and no one else follows after me, I think the fear starts to squirm in her stomach as she looks me full in the face.

“Yes I think you can,” I murmur and her brow furrows as she draws the breath to ask oh but she never finishes, the breath never reaches her lungs and the light leaves her eyes before she even feels my palm against her cheek. She barely even makes a sound as she slumps forward, dribbling her mouthful of blood as her brain hemorrhages and shuts down in less time than it takes to think. As I said, nothing is simpler and nothing is easier and nothing is kinder, she felt no pain and now she’s dead.

She’s just another casualty in this war, her and her entire staff, dead in their places without a chance to suffer. Hmm, more mercy than her employers would have offered her, they would’ve had her sacrifice herself for them while not lifting a finger to help her. They value loyalty but so rarely return the courtesy, more’s the pity.

“Your death wasn’t because of who you were or even who you worked for, you were a victim of consequence darling,” I explain with a sigh, “because I can be selfish too and I can be mad and I can be nasty.”

Burning things is an art, arson is a skill and fire is a tool. A tool to start over, a tool for tearing down Empires and leaving nothing behind but ashes. This restaurant doesn’t have a stockpile of weapons, this building isn’t made of wood but we made do, don’t we? We prepare and I prepared for this, I brought my accelerants to soak the bodies with and I know how to start kitchen fires.

When they look, all they’ll find is an unfortunate accident. When they look deeper, they’ll realise complacency is death and demons have their own twisted morals.

“Will you think I’m doing this to get your attention?” I wonder aloud as I carry my containers of gasoline through the building, splashing it wherever I please and watching it mix with half dried blood.

“Will you think I’m a child throwing a tantrum?” I muse as I pour oil into the saucepans and pots and put them all on the abandoned stoves. So late at night there shouldn’t have been anyone here but isn’t that a risk you take when your restaurant isn’t for selling food?

“Will you even stop to consider beyond yourselves? No, I don’t think you ever have, none of you ever have,” I tsk as the oil starts to boil and another laugh falls from my lips. They’re all so short sighted, only caring about themselves and whomever they claim to love as if the rest of the world doesn’t matter. They’re all so selfish, everything is about them and hasn’t it always been?

How do they fill the emptiness in their black hearts, how do they make the most of their lives, how can they rise through the ranks, how do they achieve their goals? None of them care and all of them kill and yet they have the audacity to say they’re better. Why? Because they have more power? Because they don’t really enjoy the evil they do, they had no choice, they were manipulated from birth?

We all were darlings, we all were and yet who among us is accepting responsibility for our actions? You’re letting the villain be better than you? You’re letting the murderous bastard, the evil demon, have higher morals and values?

“I’ve done terrible things but I don’t pretend like I haven’t. I don’t lie, and I don’t excuse,” I giggle as the kitchen heats up, as I pant for breath because it’s so hot.

“I don’t go back on my word and I don’t change my mind after committing so is it really too much to expect honesty from any of you?” I ask, breathing deep as the fire starts, crackling and snapping as it catches itself. Oh it’s intoxicating, it always has been as a pitiful thing in a cold alleyway to the only light on a dark night to now.

“I wish you were here to burn too,” I groan as the fire flares up and scorches the ceiling so lovely. I watch it for a few more seconds, the way it searches for something, anything to latch onto and spread along. Grease fires are hard to fight once they’re out of control and when this one spreads far enough to find the gasoline then it won’t be able to be stopped.

Which is good, I want this building to burn to the ground along with the mafia’s front and their money. Is it petty of me to do this? To take out one of their most lucrative launders just because I needed to burn something? Maybe, but I don’t care because these aren’t good people and even if they had no choice, it doesn’t matter because they wouldn’t have made a better one anyway.