[i]the speaker is viola, a character of mine. she's part of an interplanetary sort of police force, and very high up in the branch that's tasked with destroying threats to the balance of things. she's [b]not a good person[/b] and this is [b]not a good argument[/b]. it's propaganda.[/i] Valued officers, Reports have come in of various complaints towards our method of doing things. I assure you that your complaints are heard, and your leaders place the utmost importance on your mental state as part of our operative family. To that purpose, we wanted to assure you that all we do for you is meant for the protection of your loved ones and of generations to come. The eternal argument of whether or not the ends justify the means is more of a philosophical struggle than a physical one, but it is still worth addressing. The taking of a life is a traumatic experience. For the sake of our organization and for your fellow officers, there have been many of you that have been convinced to pull the trigger. Please understand that, rather than ending a life, you are allowing thousands more to flourish. When killing for the sake of the organization, you are not mindlessly firing bullets into the void. You are making a direct hit against the enemies of sentient creatures across the known realm. For each of these villains that you weed out, innumerable generations are then granted the ability to live in peace. Even more impact is killing for the defense of yourself or one of your officers. In these cases, the person whom you are saving will go on to weed out many more violent miscreants - or perhaps even inspire young, brave soldiers to take up arms against the evils of the realm. There is nobody to fight for us, officers. The gods are not benevolent. They do not love us. There are few things that you can trust on the field - your gun, your team, and your purpose. May you bless your own path.

Chilling! When a monologue mixes the word "understand" with organized murder.... *shivers* To hide under a rock or overthrow...?

[i][b]Scrambling Four Words[/b][/i] [i]Wil is a sailor and smuggler between two empires in a petty endless feud. One side is bureaucratic and very prim n' proper, while the other has an active hollywood vibe and a love of scandals n' energy. Between them is a vast ocean of little islands that thrive on this illegal trade. There's a very famous - or at least highly glamorized - serial killer from the hollywood side. It's a time before any form of internet or fast communication (further crippled by the divide between the two nations) and so nobody really knows about his location or even a vague description of him unless they've been in the area for a while - which Wil has not. He was only a little aware of the murders that had recently taken place and knew even less of the mysterious murderer when he agreed to take Carver into the middle ocean. Carver's the killer, if you hadn't figured out. This is an import part in the beginning of Wil's story. Up to this point, he was a bit infatuated, but he's finally putting the pieces together. He's trapped on a boat in the middle of a lonely ocean with a serial killer.[/i] Wil felt the breath leave his lungs in a rush. The thought had crossed his mind, and now he couldn't uncross it. Carver stood at the bow of the boat, one hand held steady on the side and one hand at his hip, confident as ever. He was still wearing that same worn white shirt as always. It was the one he wore at the dock when will first found him, the one with faded stains on the hem. It was innocuous - it meant nothing - but Wil's mind began to race nonetheless. "Thank you," Carver said, voice low and warm. "What?" "I don't say that enough, I think. I left behind a really awful situation back there." Wil watched Carver's head turn downwards in a calculated gesture of pain. It was nothing he hadn't said or done before. "You gave me a way out." A sudden slap of guilt hit Wil as Carver crafted that same pitiful expression he always wore when looking for sympathy. "A way out of what?" Wil said, and it sounded numb even to his own ears. "I don't...want to talk about it, exactly, but it was hopeless. I felt hopeless." Carver drew his lower lip under his teeth and looked up through his lashes. "So, thank you." "Well, you did pay me." "Oh, don't be so humble!" Carver put his hand on Wil's shoulder and leaned in. They were sharing breath. A few days earlier, still stuck in that haze of quixotry, Wil would have been breathlessly delighted. Now, the warm puffs of air felt toxic. "I'm not trying to be humble," he said truthfully. Reality was sinking into his bones like a slow poison. He had helped a serial killer escape. "You would have gotten out one way or another." A shadow passed over Carver's face. "I don't know if I would, actually," he mumbled. Wil's mind scrambled. Was that honest, or just another fabricated half-truth? "Really, I got out because of you. It was all thanks to you." "It wasn't my [i]fault[/i]!" Wil blindly pushed himself away and stumbled to one side of the boat. That was louder than he had meant it to be. His breath rattled in his lungs, rapid-fire breath in time with stuttered heartbeats. "I mean...it's not my...it wasn't all me. You don't have to thank me." But that flicker of recognition had already lit up Carver's eye. "Oh, but it was your fault," he said, voice like silk, stalking towards Wil like a snake uncoiled. "It wasn't." He sounded afraid. He sounded vulnerable. Carver grinned. "Okay, maybe I would have found away out anyways, but you really went above and beyond, Wil. You didn't drop me off at the first island like a bag of dead weight. You even taught me how to sail." He stroked the mast of the ship with an innocently thoughtful expression. "It's a good skill, really. I can make it anywhere in the world I want now." Some challenging spark of indignance in Wil hadn't quite been snuffed out. "Not really. You need my boat for that." "I'd like a boat like this, someday." Carver hummed, eyes still on the sleek sides of the Marie-Ann. "Someday, if you no longer need a boat, I'll take good care of her." "I'll need a boat as long as I live." He finally looked over at Wil, sprawled on the side of the boat in the same position he'd fallen in, a queue of terrified and angry expressions taking turns on his face. "My statement still stands," Carver said softly, "and I think I'll be needing a boat of my own [i]very [/i]soon." Wil paused. "Is that a threat?" In a single smooth movement, Carver walked down and knelt beside him. He leaned forward and Wil held himself deathly still. He could feel his breath brush against the shell of his ear. "Yes," he whispered, "so behave." Carver gave him a dry kiss on the cheek and stood. When he spoke next, it was at his normal volume. "Really, I mean it. It'd be too quiet sailing alone. Anyways, I'm heading off to bed. You've got the first night watch." Wil sat motionless until the sky darkened enough for the stars to shine. He felt something sick and frightened in the pit of his stomach. Around him, the ocean stretched endlessly. There was nothing in sight - no one - except for them.

[b]No Plan Survives[/b] [i]Here it is. It's pretty short and I'm not sure how much it follows the prompt, but oh well. This "underdog team" is made up of the agents of a time deity, kind of a lower god than the main four in my universe but the most "human" and sentient of all of them. Her grandchild and a girl name Juliet are the only two constant helpers the time deity has, but twins Mya and Victoria worked for her pretty often in their youth. They were often joined by a boy named Altid. He's a whiny guy with serious dependency issues, but he and Mya were good friends for a while. An earlier conflict that the twins came out of earned them different gifts from the deity. Mya can move things with her mind and perform basic mind reading/control, while Victoria can change the shape of her body. Both use these abilities very rarely as they are extremely tiring. [/i] A bang rattled the building. Victoria felt the floor under her feet go unsteady. "Yeah, that's not a good sign." "None of this is a good sign," Mya hissed. "We've gotten past the point of 'not good'. We're solidly in 'definitely very bad' territory. There is no longer any need to state the obvious, because it's pretty clear right now that this is [i]not [/i] an ideal situation." "That attitude isn't going to make it any better, y'know." "Take this seriously for once! Altid's still out there!" "He'll be so touched to know you care! There really is a heart under all that - woah!" Mya grabbed her sister's arm and pulled them both out into the hallway. Every few moments, the walls rattled. The hotel had been bustling with activity just a few hours ago, but was now all but empty. No bellhops were there to greet them, no lobby boys there to get their coats. A low chorus of screams oozed in from the outside. The glamour of the stained glass in the winding stairwell was overruled by the inky blackness outside. It was hardly noon. A platter of pastel macaroons was still sitting near the concierge's desk, and Victoria grabbed the blue one at the top as she ran. "So, what's the plan?" "Plan?" Mya laughed humorlessly. "There is no plan. This wasn't supposed to [i]happen[/i]. She should have given us warning for something like this. She should have [i]known[/i]." "So the plan is panic?" She stopped, turned on her heel, and faced Victoria with a grim expression. "The plan is run, get Altid, shoot at whatever non-human entity comes near you, and survive." "So panic is in there." "Oh, yeah." "Here." Victoria placed the macaroon into Mya's palm. "You shouldn't fight on an empty stomach. Your strategy's bad when you're hangry." "You take it. Your strategy needs it more than mine."

"Hangry" In an adorable word

i think so too. always reminds me of those commercials, though....

[b]Ghost[/b] [i]a snippet from a story i was working on. content warning: someone jumps in front of a train.[/i] The unknown lurks in the back of every mind; the nonmaterial tendrils of the mysterious and fantastic pushes forward and back with each breath of thought. It takes a strange sort of determination to bring them into the light—or at least, a strange sort of something. As the light began to fade on the San Francisco horizon, Samael caught a glimpse of that something. He sat at the train station with his older sister, eyes staring blankly forward. Faceless people pushed past each other and chattered until their voices blurred. The world was busy and still all at once. A man pushed forward to the front of the crowd. He himself was filthy, but his clothes were spotless. Samael spotted a tag on his pant leg. In his fighting dirt-covered hands, he held a plastic bag of senseless luxuries; jewelry, cologne, figurines, and other oddities. The thunder of a train drew nearer. The man shifted from one foot to another. His eyes were wide and baby blue, somehow young even as they spun in his sockets like a frightened animal. He took a step forward. Against the falling sun, his new white shirt looked nearly black. Urgency slammed into Samael’s mind. He tugged on his sister’s sleeve. She gave him a placating pat on the head, but didn’t look up from her book. The man stepped forward again. The sun continued to fall. Closer and closer, the train ran light a lightning bolt with thunder in its wake. It shot out of the tunnel like a bullet just as the man tumbled over the edge. Then people turned. Then his sister looked up. A shattered ceramic cat lay on the pavement. It must have tumbled out of the bag, Samael thought. The world was still and busy all at once. In the stagnant chaos, he grabbed the cat and scurried onto the train. The cat stared at him from his desk. It was orange and smiling, softly staring from its perch. Samael thought maybe he should have been more disturbed by the dirty man in the clean suit. Then he thought that he should be less so. Beside him, the clock went on.

[b]these are some notes i typed out for the discord, kinda rambling bout why i liked LyKei despite not being particularly passionate about either character involved. i'm posting it here bc i don't want to keep my stuff exclusive to the discord members lmao [/b] honestly i do think their personalities fit together moreso than andre and kei they have a much more fascinating dynamic i feel like they both, when put together, seem like more rounded characters kei grows calmer as he begins to like you and lycus grows more....excitable ? i think a soft melty kei + bursting-with-affection lycus make for a very interesting couple so do the beginning nervous lycus + smooth kei (where the fic is at) lycus is also like SUPER attention + validation starved like that's his big thing, throughout his lines like "i'll prove myself" and "they'll all see". stuff like that meanwhile, kei is unconditionally accepting but he really does kinda....thirst for affection? like that's his thing and lycus's excitable personality (once you get close to him) really fits with that ...which is also why i think that miranda would be a really good friend for him, but nnot a best friend or romantic interest. she enjoys the quiet of things and the wonder of things poetry in everything and all that she's close to people who are the same (andre) and i think lycus idolizes her for a few reasons that kinda branch from that but they would get into a LOT of conflict, and he could potentially be very draining for her while she kinda pushes down his excitability all in all, they work to subdue each other's "unseemly" traits instead of embracing their good ones which can be really good in small doses!! but really bad for partners.

Those.... are some good GOOD notes. Such a wholesome ship, LyKei is. I love!! <3 Ships who balance each other out and bring out the best in each other.... so good;;;;