#maybe hes a nails situation where he was blinded by optimism or blinded by his friendship with ellie

[therenlover]

Would The Danny Bunch Survive A Holiday With My Family?

A/n: In the wake of recent life garbage, I have neglected to write a whole fic, and I’m sorry. In the interim, please enjoy this writing exercise I have put together in the hopes of nailing some characters I haven’t written for in the past in time for a larger project I’m working on! Cheers!

Characters: Laszlo Kreizler, Alex Kerner, Niki Lauda, Andrea Marowski, Ernst Schmidt, and Helmut Zemo

Rating: T

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Mild Misogyny, Mentions of Alcohol/Alcoholism, Mentions of Mental Illness, Non-Graphic Mentions of Death, Minor Spoilers for The Alienist Season One, Minor Spoilers for Goodbye, Lenin!, Spoilers for Rush (2013), Minor Spoilers for The Cloverfield Paradox maybe??? I haven’t actually seen the whole movie, blame Wikipedia if things are wrong. 

Laszlo Kreizler

NO

As the first of all of the Dannys to be put through the ringer, Laszlo Kreizler unfortunately would not survive a holiday with my family.

First of all, this man does not like massive huggy kissy crowds, so he’d already be off his game the second he walked into the packed house. That’s not why he’d die though, surprisingly.  

His downfall would be his status as an Alienist. 

There is simply so much mental illness and childhood trauma present at my family holidays that he would combust within 15 minutes of sitting in a room with all of my relatives.

Even if he were to somehow make it past the introductory phase, my family is nosey as hell, so they’d be grilling him about his arm and his own childhood trauma within the first hour. 

Laszlo, for all of his strength, simply wouldn’t be able to withstand it.

His death wouldn’t come from the initial combustion though. No, it’s not that simple. 

Knowing Laszlo, once he had combusted and entirely lost his composure the first time, he would become extremely intrigued about the interconnected nature of everyones issues with each other and he would start asking questions. 

That’s where the problems would begin. 

Because it’s one thing if my drunk great aunt starts badmouthing her sister at the table for abandoning her 90 year old mother for a lake house with her new boyfriend. That’s fine. 

But when Laszlo hops in and starts picking apart the mommy issues and underlying reasons for their decades long sibling rivalry? 

Oh it would be over for him. 

The yelling would never end. 

And, I have no doubt that Laszlo would start to psychoanalyze whoever started to yell at him, which would only lead to more yelling. 

In the end, someone would throw a probably full and probably fresh out of the oven casserole dish at his head and he’d be unable to defend himself because of his weak arm. 

We’d have to cart him out in a wheelchair and even if he were to technically survive, he’d never come back. 

Therefor, Laszlo Kreizler would fall victim to my family and die before we even got to dessert. 

Alex Kerner

YES

Ah, little baby Alex! A great contender here for holiday survival.

He seems relatively young in comparison to most of the Dannys on this list, though I don’t actually know how old he’s supposed to be. 

Based on his relative youth, he would automatically get points with the fam for not seeming like a creep or sugar daddy. Instead, he could be just about any dude I brought home from college. 

His skillset as a semi-skilled laborer would also earn him some points, seeing as several members of the family are in similar professions.

Alex might get lost in some of the more complex conversations about the local organic scene or the fine details of running a fine art gallery, but he would fit right in with the majority of the younger members of the family, smiling and nodding his way through the conversation. 

His enthusiasm and optimism would brighten the room and leave everyone excited to see him around again. 

There’s also the semi-small detail of him caring for his mother, which would earn sympathy from the older members of the family as they are in charge of caring for my deaf, blind great grandmother. 

Now, all of these aspects have already set Alex up for a successful survival of a holiday dinner with my family, but the real secret weapon he has up his sleeve is what really cements him in place as a survivor. 

What is his secret weapon, you may ask?

Lies.

Alex Kerner is really, really good at lying, and is even better at figuring out increasingly convoluted ways to keep his lies straight. 

If he managed to hide to fuckin’ Berlin Wall coming down from his mother for as long as he did, he could keep a couple of white lies up for appearances if he was asked any potentially embarrassing or weird questions that would make him look bad. 

He could also lie about enjoying my great aunt’s cooking, which is a vital skill for holiday survival in my family. 

Therefor, at the end of the day, Alex Kerner would not only survive a holiday with my family, but he’d probably enjoy it and get invited back for every subsequent holiday he could possibly attend. 

Niki Lauda

NO

Niki is another Danny that falls very firmly into the category of characters that would absolutely not survive a holiday with my family, for many, many reasons. 

First of all, just like Laszlo, Niki is not huge on going to big huggy kissy parties. 

Both adults and children would be all over him the second he walked in the door, which would probably make Niki get very uncomfortable and cagey. 

Little does he know at that point that people aren’t just all over you when you get in the door. 

No, no, no; from the moment you show up to the moment you leave, if you’re at a holiday with my family you are being basically accosted with questions and hugs and conversations that get weirdly personal. 

It doesn’t help that the whole entire house is packed and there are eyes on you at every moment, so he wouldn’t even be able to sneak in a break for air or a cigarette. 

If my own mother can’t sneak out for a smoke when she’s been going to these events her whole life, the new guy who’s still being vetted by the family sure as hell won’t be able to either.

Needless to say, Niki would start to get really, really tired of it all in an hour tops. I’ll give him until dinner at most. 

That’s where things would start getting really sticky.

See, a lovely little fact about the Niki Lauda that lives in my brain, as portrayed by Daniel Bruhl in Rush (2013), is that he’s just a little bit misogynistic. No more than would be period typical, but a little misogynistic.

Another fun little important thing to note is that my family is entirely matriarchal in nature. 

There are only 4 reoccurring male guests at family holidays out of about 20 to 25 guests at each event; My great aunt’s husband of many, many years, the two male siblings my mother has that live in the area, and the young son of one of those siblings. 

Men, specifically boyfriends, simply do not last in my family. They are considered pretty disposable and easily banned from family events after breakups or small mishaps. 

So, not only would Niki not have any other manly men there to chat about sports with over a scotch and a cigarette, he would be surrounded by so much estrogen that he would definitely struggle with his inner asshole even more than usual. 

In fact, we never have sports on, even on Thanksgiving. Poor Niki would be stuck hearing conversations about artisanal candlemakers and how to hand felt a woodland elf puppet.

Back to his downfall, the second he made a slightly sketchy joke about women in the kitchen at the dinner table to my great uncle, his fate would be sealed.

If you thought the yelling at Laszlo would have been bad, this yelling would be ten times worse, because he would be surrounded by like 20 very angry, very defensive, and very strong women waiting to beat the shit out of him and I would not be any help. 

He dug the hole, so he can climb out of it. 

In the end, his death would come when he tried to light a cigarette and calm himself down at the dinner table while trying to rescind his earlier statement, because smoking inside around all the precious textile art? Thats a big no no. 

My great aunt would grab the lighter right out of his hand, light up whatever cocktail she had at the moment, and throw it all directly into Niki’s face.

It would be like crashing his car all over again, only this time he would be surrounded by people who would rather he burn than try to get him out of the situation. 

Moral of the story, Niki would die within the first few hours of a holiday with my family because he made an asshole comment to a room full of women who don’t put up with that shit. Don’t be like Niki, even if you think you won’t get killed for it. 

Andrea Marowski

YES

Andrea is pretty much the polar opposite of Niki here, and I love him for it. 

He is very soft, very kind, very pure, and would never dare to say something rude at the dinner table like a certain racer we all know.

He couldn’t even say something rude if he tried to, because he probably wouldn’t have the English in his vocabulary to say the things he wanted to say even if he intended to say them out loud. 

But let’s be honest here, Andrea would never. 

Even with his limited English, Andrea would appreciate being surrounded by a whole bunch of people who think he’s the sweetest little thing since the invention of cake. 

My great grandmother, despite being almost entirely blind and deaf, would say he looked darling and he would immediately be a member of the family from the moment he stuttered out his thanks. 

Andrea, like Alex, is also relatively young, so he would get points for not being old enough to be my father. 

I feel like, because Andrea was shown living happily in a tiny village by the ocean with two old ladies, he would have an appreciation for craft, so he wouldn’t mind sitting quietly as my great aunt pawns off a handmade blanket from my great grandmother to him. 

He would also happily sit with the younger children and do whatever craft or simple game one of my aunts brought for them that time. 

The cherry on top with Andrea is his skill with the violin. 

My family is one that appreciates fine art a lot, but more than anything we appreciate music. 

I wouldn’t say that any of us are anywhere close to Andrea’s proficiency, but we definitely aren’t terrible, and we all can appreciate the effort, practice, and talent that goes into getting truly good on an instrument like Andrea is on his violin. 

He would be encouraged to play, of course, and he would happily oblige. 

If he felt comfortable enough, I could even see my great uncle grabbing his guitar, my cousin sitting at the piano, and my sister bringing out her own violin to do a little quartet with some simple song they knew as everybody else sang along. 

By the end of the holiday evening, once dinner was served and people were heading to the cars, Andrea would definitely be considered a member of the family. 

Needless to say, he’d survive and pass their tests with better than flying colors, even despite the language barrier. 

Ernst Schmidt

NO

Now, Ernst was probably the most difficult one on this entire list to put into the living or dying category. In the end, though, there were a few things that couldn’t be overlooked that send him into bad territory. 

To be fair, though, he would last the longest out of everyone who would die tragically at one of my family’s holiday gatherings. 

He, like the past two victims, would not be exactly suited for the mushy crowding that’s inevitable when it comes to my family. 

That being said, I think he would deal with it a little bit better than the other two did and would make polite conversation with the family when he could. 

The fact that he was trapped in a packed house filled with drunk people who have several generations worth of beef with each other, though, would start to get him eventually. 

If we consider all of the shit that happened while he was in space to be canonical minus, you know, the earth getting really fucked up, he would probably start to go a little bit nuts while packed together with that many passive aggressive people.

The second someone burst into tears on the way to the bathroom he would start to lose his shit. 

Still, I think Schmidt would probably be fine-ish until dessert was served, because that’s about the time where all the adults are absurdly drunk, so insanity ensues. 

They would start poking at him about his credentials and experiences as a physicist. 

He would answer their questions at first, but, unfortunately for him, the questions would turn more and more personal and uncomfortable as time went on. 

Did he ever still think about what happened up in space? Did he blame himself for not getting things to work correctly? How much did he miss his old world and old life? Did he ever have nightmares about what he saw? How much did it hurt to get shot?

They’d poke and poke and poke in their drunken state until poor Schmidt would snap at them, flying into a slight rage at their insistent probing. 

From there, he would be swiftly asked to leave and then “accidentally” run over while calling an Uber to take him to wherever he’s staying as my drunk great aunt tries to back out of the driveway to drive down the block to her house. 

In the end, Schmidt and his wit would be really close to surviving a holiday with my family , but he would, unfortunately, let his anger get the best of him, and it would be the last thing he ever did. Literally. 

Helmut Zemo

YES, BUT ONLY BARELY

Okay, so my earlier comment about Ernst being the most difficult out of everyone was incorrect. Zemo was, by far, the hardest to put into one category or the other. 

His wit and charm won out in the end, though, and I determined that he would survive one single holiday with my family. 

If he ever came back for a second he definitely wouldn’t make it, but he would succeed in living past the first one. 

Helmut’s problems start, surprisingly, not with the fact that he is a criminal. In fact that doesn’t even cause any problems for him. 

No, instead they start with the fact that he is 43.

I am 99% sure that my mother is 43, and I know for a definite fact that he’s older than one of my uncles who would be present. I, at the time of writing this, am 18. 

Needless to say, literally everyone would be massively suspicious of him and his intentions the second he walked through the door. The amount of money in his bank account definitely wouldn’t help in this situation either. 

The family would warm up to him eventually, though, because if there’s one thing Helmut is good at besides killing people, it’s making people like him even if they absolutely shouldn’t. 

With his expansive knowledge of what feels like literally everything rich and niche, he would slowly win over the older members of the family. Who knew the strange old man Jac brought home was so well versed in the American pottery scene, or that he could name specific jewelry artists from across the world that my family had done business with for years?

My family definitely wouldn’t. At least, not at first. 

Oh how they’d learn, though. 

Another nice thing about Zemo that would allow him to survive is his aggressive politeness.

No matter how many weird glances or dirty looks he got over the course of dinner, he would simply continue to be the best version of himself in the hopes of impressing everyone. 

He would even pretend to enjoy my great aunt’s cooking and get himself seconds, because I’m sure it would be easier to scarf down than whatever he and his EKO Scorpion squad had to eat while serving in the Sokovian special forces. 

On the tail end of reasons he would be accepted, Helmut Zemo drinks alcohol like it’s water, so he would fit right in drinking white wine and cocktails through the night with the rest of the adults. 

((I think he’d totally tease me about not being able to drink with him, but that’s a story for another time. Anyways...))

His slight downfall would come from something entirely uncontrollable by him or anybody else. 

And that something would be my flirty aunt. 

I love my aunt. She’s wonderful in her own special way. 

That being said, I know if a hot Sokovian baron with a nice smile and a fat pocketbook showed up to one of out holidays, even if he was introduced as my partner, she would be going for the kill all night long. 

This would make Helmut more and more uncomfortable as she got more and more drunk, because lets face it, he’s probably not very comfortable with being touched by near-strangers anyways, and being touched by a drunk member of his partners family who is very obviously coming on to him? 

That’s even more difficult to deal with. 

That being said, Helmut is a man who has been shown to be extremely in control of his emotions. 

He would swallow down whatever awkwardness he felt, make it to the end of the night, and, once he had escaped her clutches, he would politely say that he was never going back to another holiday function with my family again, though he would be happy to facilitate me still attending them. 

So, in the end, Helmut Zemo would survive one holiday with his sheer stubborn politeness alone. 

I will say that his patience would absolutely wear thin if he attended a couple more holidays and he would eventually die of a stress induced heart attack after being unable to politely decline my aunt’s advances. 

For now, though, he’s safe.

#zemo #baron zemo #helmut zemo #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #niki lauda #andrea marowski #ernst schmidt #laszlo kreizler #alex kerner #jac rambles #imagine #the danny bunch

[redloftwingfeathers]

I feel like talking about the shit Zelda not only had to put up with but also what she subconsciously summoned herself and you're going to sit and listen and maybe cry with me okay? Okay.

While I don't think that was very cash-money of 'Hylia' to make Zelda wait until she's reached true, unrelenting despair to finally find her light, it made me wonder how everything came into play that made her journey so painstakingly hard, and not just Hylia pulling fast ones from the clouds. (Trust me I wanted to blame the goddess so bad after that moving performance at the spring of power but wait!! there's more!)

Things I'm looking at are specifically Zelda's anxieties of wanting to be a scholar but having to throw herself to the dogs of religion to keep Rhoam happy, the HEAVY depression she carries with not just from the loss of her mother but also just constantly being berated by her father and feeling like she's not good enough for Hylia, the jealousy and anger she harbors towards Link in their beginnings and how it effects her growth.

All of these are things (coming from someone who is very mentally ill) are ingredients that distract Zelda from her goals, intentional or not.

Zelda has a classic case of "I wanna do This Thing (studying, traveling) but I have to do That Thing (religion, strict orders) instead and now the fun is sucked out of it and my mind is buzzing and now I don't know what to do girl (hylia) HELP"

What's even worse is despite her hand-picked maturity, she KNOWS what is right and what she needs to do (her level of self awareness is impeccable sometimes) but she is still just a child in the end, wanting to live her life without dictation, which causes frustration and anger and can lead to self-doubts.

Starting with the loss of her mother, Rhoam claims that Zelda did not cry at all during the ceremony, and that it proved to him he could still be a strong king with how unwavering his daughter was. And although that's shown as an "awe inspiring" moment, it shows Rhoam does not understand how the processing of grief registers differently amongst people, especially children. She may have not showed it when she was, what, 6? (Not every normal 6 year old understands the fragility of mortality) but you can definitely see it affects her later on as Zelda grows older. It may not be entirely visible at first, but the way they portray it in HWAoC (I know its not entirely canon but bare with me on this) she longs for her mother's advice and comfort when her pleas and ideas fall deaf on the king's ears. Her mother seemed to be a very wise and compassionate queen, where Rhoam is a wise and a very bite-the-bullet king.

When stakes are high he trusts what he thinks needs to be done, and he enforces Zelda to finish her training Because she is part of his plan to push back the calamity. He knows protocol, and there's no room for creative thinking when the land of Hyrule is in danger. (Disclaimer: I hate Rhoam but I can also try to see what Nintendo was doing. He's not intentionally mean, he's an assertive dad that wants to see his daughter succeed (and also hella depressed) but he's really fucking bad at it and comes off as a dickhead. He is the embodiment of a boomer that does things the old fashioned way to get things done).

But all of this pressure he is putting on her, taking away things that make her happy so they don't distract her from her duty, shooting down her ideas because he wouldn't know how to even approach it from his standpoint, it really does a number on Zelda and really births her insecurities.

No matter how hard she prays and dedicates herself to Hylia, it doesn't work. Her mind is distracted, filled with fear and very little hope that the magic isn't Working. What even kicks me in the jaw more is that she's putting all of her effort into these prayers, and it's not even her wish she's making. It's Rhoam's wish. Her Ancestral Family's wish. That's why it hasn't sparked. She's praying on the behalf of her father and ancestors and not herself because she firmly believes there's other ways to settle the score. Zelda knows the importance of her role but its just not clicking when someone else is forcing you to do it. It just doesn't work like that.

Moving onto her liaison with Link, she is, well, in the beginning very irritated with him. Even a little bit after being chosen by Fi. But I don't think she MEANS to be angry at Link, he didn't do anything wrong in all honesty. She shouldn't take out her anger on him, but she's jealous, and he exists...so like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

When Link is suddenly chosen by the sword at a drop of a hat?? Yeah she's relieved, but there's also undertones of resentment. All of her Champions are here at the ready and she's still trying to figure out what shoe goes on first. She is the goddamn Princess of Hyrule, one who carries the blood of Hylia in her veins, and this random tiny knight who, mind you, fought tooth and nail to be her escort ends up finding his role before her? She is riding the struggle mule up Mount Lanayru (and I don't really blame her). And when she's exploring the shrines?? She makes it very clear to him she can work independently and does not need an escort, which although understood (freedom is a peace everyone strives for) she is careless regardless of her careful planning and efforts. She's a Princess, wandering Hyrule unarmed (and without her powers) with a horse as her only mode of transportation. You won't see yourself as a target even if they're pinned on your back, and with her determination to utilize these mysterious shrines as more Sheikah tech is being discovered is making her blind in remembering where she's placed in social status. It's dangerous, and I'm glad Link is there to see what she fails to see.

That's another thing too. As they progress and strengthen their friendship, Zelda sees Link as a mirror to question what her role really means. She uses him as guidance to help understand her situation, asking him "If you were told your whole life This is what you're meant to do, to take up your family's legacy...but one day realize this isn't what you want, would you still take the path you've been told to take?" In this case I think it's safe to say this is what Link knew he wanted. He loves being an aid to those in need, and becoming a knight despite following his father's path, this felt like his true calling. The spirit of the hero is VERY strong in his soul, and when he sees someone in need of help [Zelda] he's going to aid them whether they want it or not.

But Zelda still feels so lost, she feels so disconnected from her ancestors, as the previous daughters in the royal families were Given their powers at birth and meant to be awakened when the time has come. They were all given the gift of premonition, to be a medium for Hylia and a messenger of the gods, and overall able to keep Ganon away from the world no matter how many times he crawls back from the depths of hell. Being told your whole life you're meant to be like your ancestors, but not being able to fulfill any of those roles? It makes the past seem like one giant fairy tale when in you're in BotW Zelda's shoes.

No voices, no premonitions, no secret awakenings...Nothing.

At this moment, I finally understood why Urbosa said to Revali about Link. She said he is a constant reminder of Zelda's own failures. Link found his calling by following his instinct. Zelda has yet to figure out what she really wants, and is clouded by judgements not only from her father and people, but from herself too. With every passing day she is undergoing a meltdown, questioning if she is even meant to be apart of this whole plan anymore, probably something among the lines of "Was it meant to be someone else? I'm the only daughter, and yet I can't even do my one job." She lost everyone and everything, she's frightened, it feels like she's lost her faith in the gods, or even dare say, the gods lost faith in her.

But through absolute despair when Link just about gives his life for her protection, that's when it all clicked. She found her power and strength through Link, who was the one that, all this time, taught her about what she needed to do to awaken her powers without even directly telling her. Every conversation she had with him, she saw herself in Link. She saw all the effort he gave into becoming a royal knight, the unwavering determination in his eyes with every Lynel he slew, a never ending supply of optimism and hope no matter how high the stakes were. And yet he was also Free. He followed his path blindly, not even knowing where he'd end up, as long as he knew he was

able to protect those in need. And she wanted that.

He was her mirror, and Zelda managed to awaken herself when that mirror cracked.

Living the burden of being part of a prophecy and saying you're ready for anything, is very reckless. Understanding the heaviness that comes with sacrifice is not truly understood until it starts happening to you.

Zelda found her wish, her independence through Link. Her mind is finally clear and she understands what her role means in all of this.

She is meant to protect, to save, to understand more than just personal loss.

Zelda couldn't stand by idly anymore after everyone told her to do something else and let others handle the job. That was the last straw when Link stood in front of her, shield weak but at the ready when that guardian approached. She saw the desperation and said NO, which finally broke her seal. She chose to sacrifice herself, igniting her powers just as Hylia did for her people. She chose to save her last, literally dying hope, because Ganon cannot be fought alone.

He was the connection, the literal link, she needed to awaken her powers. And I just find that so fucking great.

Anyways thanks for coming to my TED talk I've been typing this for like 4 hours now

#hHGDFJDF SORRY THIS IS SO LONG #dont tag as zelink pls i tried keeping this ambiguous as possible thank #the legend of zelda #botw #aoc spoilers #sorta #cat talks #also my thoughts are flying faster than my fingers #so this might skip and jump around #my adhd welcomes you

[dememarquette]

Stockholm

It has been a rough year. Complete Hell, actually, but we made it. We're home. Home. 2018, where the leaves are turning red, cable can be paused, and our old record shop exhausted itself into extinction.

That's all I needed. After death, my standards dropped through the concrete. I found gratification in the mundane. I appreciated the small things. I enjoyed the understated conversations, the intimate ones, the quiet. Just- Any time absent of violence. Pain. When I didn't have to worry about the orders being screamed at us, or the anxiety living under the heel of someone much bigger and nastier. Was it a lot to ask? Generally, no. Following a thwarted attempt at societal collapse? Maybe. We made it back half a year ago. That was six months on the run. We were fugitives. 'War criminals.' We avoided trouble by bouncing back and forth from Hell, running missions, training, and staying on the move while ensuring Buné's new order- Point is, I've been exhausted. I leaned against our apartment. I lost track of what city we're in but when you're anarchists of the divine, it stopped mattering. I didn't want to think about it. I didn’t want to think at all. I let my world fall into serenity and I took peace in as cars passed. I felt the breeze on my skin, the procession of life outside the damned. There was normalcy in the city. I offered smiles to the pedestrians that walked by. I reminded them of a preacher, the charismatic one they used to watch every Thursday night. I obviously wasn't the same guy. I was a disheveled, sadder version, but some smiled back- Before a loud crash sent them running. "Son of a BITCH." Metal clanged against stone. One girl dropped her umbrella. She ran. Her rubber boots beat the pavement until she turned a corner, a block away. "Mother. Fucker. LIED." Adria kneed a recycling bin. "I should have known this would happen. It was too fucking easy." "Too easy...?" "No one gets promoted that quick! Doesn't MATTER if you do all his dirty work," The bin split. "Start an apocalypse," Glass shattered. Garbage blasted down the asphalt. "Beat the new guys in!" I had no idea what part of the last few months had been anything short of excruciating. I just knew better to argue. I picked up the discarded umbrella, shaking off the puddle. "Is it off the table, then?" I asked, spinning it. "Obviously not! I'm up here aren't I?" "Why, then?" She violently bucked her leg. A tenacious grocery bag that clung to her boot. "He wants another job! Another fucking errand before I can prove myself, get OFF! Stupid-!!" She dislodged it, but not without throwing out her calf. The cops would be here in fifteen minutes. In twenty, she would be destroying our wall instead. We weren’t getting that security deposit back. "I thought that's what Glenshollow was."  I shuttered the umbrella's canopy closed. Peace was over. "Proving yourself." "Yeah well, it wasn't enough!" "'course it wasn't." It never would be. There was always more hoops, more grunt work. She punched a trash can into the street. It launched past me, aluminum warped. When her fist whipped back around, it specked the wall, corrosively leaving hissing black holes in the brick like the spray of a Tommy. "One more." She huffed. "Just- one more. He says I'm close." "When you're immortal everything is close. What if he never promotes you? What if he is a liar, like he's always been?" "Shut up." My brows furrowed. "Adria. What's the point in trusting him if-" "Shut up. This was the limit. I knew it. There was no reasoning with her. She glared, shoulders heaving with a finality saying I was a much more satisfying target than a garbage bin. I let it drop. I receded to the street in silence. Back against the wall, I stood at my post: Protecting the outside world from Adria. - - - The attack on Delgado yielded over 200 casualties. Months of preparation amounted to a twelve hour skirmish. Powers above squashed the epidemic in no time. It was an incursion controlled by dinner yet the effects rippled through the decades. History was made. It was covered up, then made again, but Buné never cared about petty tragedies and coverage above the surface. He cared about what happened after. It was a victory, not a failure. Overnight, his army doubled. They arrived onto his doorstep in droves. Marked. Branded by their wrath, the shambling husks were primed soldiers. Their consciousness’ were forever crippled into malleable potential Buné can use. Due to her stellar efforts, Adria earned respect, boons, and prestige. Just not the title. Her notoriety made her optimal for missions back in the present. He turned a blind eye to her angelic compatriot, and gave her a team. None of whom she cared for, but she thought maybe her parade of volatile dumbasses was a start to prime her for the big leagues. It wasn't. 'Lieutenant' was a bar being raised higher, and Adria's patience was burning out. Having a team didn't mean jackshit if she was still at the bottom. There was no repose to be had under someone else. While I also yearned for a delusionally quiet life- It just wasn't feasible. Details arrived the following morning. "What is this?" I wandered into the kitchen to find Adria pouring over blueprints. They were three feet by one thin drafts of paper, and full of intricate blocks with barely legible text. I'm by no means an architect or mechanic, but ‘boat’ was a safe bet. She was sitting there, nails knotted in her bangs, reviewing them like she had any idea of what they meant. "His assignment." "And this is what will supposedly get you promoted?" I said, skeptically. "It better." 'Or else what?' I wanted to ask. "And this is supposed to be harder than zombies?" "It's not supposed to be harder. It's finishing what we started." "How does that make sense?" I said, picking at another sheet. I didn't trust our 'team' to go get milk without fucking up, much less a heist? "I do what I'm told so I can get out of this shithole." While I intended to correct her on the ‘we’ situation, of that we could agree on. No matter how far this rabbit hole goes, I was sure there was something to be found at the end of it. Call me an opportunist. I hopped onto the counter. Tilting my head, I realized if you removed the claws, fangs, subterfuge, this felt familiar. I imagined a kitchen. Countertops crowded claustrophobically with congratulations and community love. A bare room that felt like bustling potential and a new lease on life rather than a pit stop. I scooched closer, crossing my legs to wedge between an imaginary dinette set and unpacked vacuum- She knew me by now. Too well. I could see it when her shoulders tense, her eyes snap to meet mine. ’Don’t-’ All that mattered was that her subconscious beat her to it. “So if you're promoted soon…” I rehearsed. “How are we going to celebrate?" Finding no room there, he crossed his legs instead. She was unpacking a mess. An obstacle course of bins, stacked impossibly high. There was no space except the marble. Adria had a hard time throwing anything vaguely sentimental out, and the collective town of Ashwater sent her off with enough supplies to stock a bunker. In lieu of helping (as he had invited himself over to do) he read over her acceptance letter to the Modena Police Academy three times over. He had the message memorized, and its creases too. The edges were folded from her happy dance, and the text smeared from her tears. How many Shakespearean ways could he recite it to her? How many ways could he decree her new title? The answer was a lot. But when that stopped being fun, he asked. "Soooo with this new promotion.” He slid closer. “How are we celebrating?" This came after a mandatory lunch. 5 box milestone. 15 minute break, then a ten. Finally dinner, and now a catch-all celebration. She looked up at him grinning, arms full of silverware. She was hopelessly behind, and would’ve had the place done at noon on her own, but what could she say? "How about we celebrate by...unpacking the kitchen?" "C'mon dep- oops." "Detective." “Detective Kyriakoulopoulos.” He waggled his brows. “It’s time to party! One does not become the most esteemed detective of the wild, formidable city of Modena every day.” "Not yet!" She swiped the letter. Before he could protest- talking with his hands, like he always did- she grabbed them, effectively silencing him. He was pulled to the floor, where his strategy switched. He hooked both arms around her waist, pulling her in. She’d weakly protest. "Come on,” She said, not fighting it. “I need to make it look like I got something done. My family is coming over tomorrow." "And they're going to be real disappointed if they don't have anything to unpack.” He grinned. “Think of Basil and Elyse, all bored. They want to help." “And you don’t?” "...Champagne?" When she came to I was off the counter. It'd been days since her last episode. Weeks. So few and far between, on days where she was kicking some guy’s teeth in, I worried they were gone for good. But she blinked. I held my breath for the fallout. Only she saw these memories, but I felt them. I lived in them every time her eyes went dark, when her lips twitched, and I knew she was following the subtitles. In those quiet moments where the pit of venom in her heart receded, Adria crawled back from her grave. Always in painfully brief snapshots, but she was there. These were the tick on her EKG, the surge in hope telling me she was still alive, under all the cruelty and malice. She didn’t receive them as well. She never did. They hit like a jackhammer. No matter how light, they weren’t her life, they were fake, and she didn’t give a shit about them. Getting as worked up as I did was a small betrayal but one I couldn’t resist. She hated me for it- But still. She was quick to tell me how useless I was when she didn’t oblige. How I would mope for weeks if she couldn’t recite this ‘stupid fantasy’ back. It was the only thing I had, despite promises I’d made to the contrary. We never said it, but we both knew. "What did you see?" I asked, breathless. She dug the heel of her palm into her eye socket, burrowing into it like she’d scrape it off her retinas. “No.” She growled, low. "Adria..." I begged. “NO, Demetrius.” She snatched the blueprints. “I don't have any time for this shit today! I have work to do." “Please.” "Mission. First. Are you going to come with me or not?" The answer was a given. - - - Under the cover of night, we hit the docks. I wasn't given the specifics. That wasn't to imply they did, because they didn't. Wrath demons maximized their shadiness. We never had any idea what we were walking into because Buné expected us to handle it- especially his aspiring lieutenants. There was no hand holding. We had a location, a number, and a time limit. Be a good soldier, and that's all there was to it. Adria corralled us to a neighboring container ship. The ship Buné marked- The Sandfly, an antiquated naval cruiser- bobbed beside us. We were to board, grab our shit, and leave. Casualties didn’t matter. Fifth didn’t care about getting dirty if you had something to show for it. Even so, sneaking past enemy lines didn’t mean a thing when there was friendly fire. She and her ‘team’ had been trading blows the whole way here. One lost a tooth, another revived an ancient blood feud, and a third tried for Adria’s head in a manner that was custom. He was promptly put down. "ENOUGH," Adria slammed him into a metal wall. Spines chipped on impact, and the wall buckled. It wasn’t the first time she cracked a bone on her own soldiers, and she never laid hands on them without leaving something to remember. His wound audibly sizzled and but it was so routine no one revelled in the example. "ALL of you are idiots, but if you want to live, get your shit together NOW. Buné does not care about you stupid peons, and I don’t even remember your names! Do you understand? You're fucking expendable." Three grumbled reluctant acceptance. The forth hissed from the ground. Her patience was thinner than mine. I stood idly by, impassive to the petty demon squabbles. They tended not to mess with me. Not seriously, anyways. They didn't care for me being here. I couldn’t escape errant comments but I never cared about hecklers. Adria abraded anyone who tried harder, and operating under her coriaceous wing meant I learned how to defend myself. Procedural power-grabs out of the way, we moved as a group to board. Those with the spare limbs to do so glided to the bridge with no problem. I needed the extra help- not without snide remarks but Adria shut them up with a heel through their feet. We convened on the other side, up to five injuries before mission start. "I go in first.” She debriefed after egos were bruised, and rebellious spirits squashed. “On my command you will join, one at a time! Any sooner I'll kick your ass back down to Hell. I want us in and out, no showboating. Understood?!" "Yes." They said. No one was ignorant of how important this mission was to her career. She told me on the way here she’d bury anyone who stood in the way. But I was the one interrupting this time. "No-" I said. "Wait." I held a hand to the wall. Nonsensically I felt comfort since boarding- and not because Adria held me by the waist to fly me over. I felt warmth. A metaphysical type. One that replaced the ever-present rotting in my chest I've come to associate with Adria (it’s an acquired taste, psychologists would claim). Whatever this ship was emitting- this cloying homesickness- couldn't be good. My disruption was met with the usual scorn. Special privileges meant I could speak out when others got a boot to the face. She took any input from me during these missions seriously. For reasons that were obvious- I didn't talk much otherwise. "What?" I moved my palm with the wave of energy. The feeling persisted down the entry hatch, and upward, as if part of the ventilation. “Let me go in first. I think it's a trap.” "Of course it's a trap. What else would it be?" The other demoness on our team spat. "Since when is your pet calling the shots?!" "He's going to get us killed." It wasn't unusual for members of her meathead party to be disgusted when I said anything. Perks of sleeping with the boss; I had seniority, even if it didn't align with their thug rules. One bland look and she threw out their objections. "Back off!” She snarled, slapping them behind her.“He's going first." "But-" "No arguing!!" I dipped inside. Their fragile hierarchy devolved into fighting. Stealth was never part of their operation but Adria had been in the game long enough to hold off all four. I padded down the corridor, unconcerned, and tracing the path. The ship was a relic of the past. The whole thing was corroded ceiling to floor, suffering a carmine splattering of rust. Stairs were welded grates, and the doors were embedded with port holes too scratched to see through. It was an asbestos goldmine but I wasn't looking for the ways it'd kill a person. Where the heat ended, the nauseating rot of corruption was back, even if I knew our team was far behind outside. Demons. "-Two of them are in." A radio transponder scratched. Sound feed bounced off the metallic halls. Luckily, I'd been quiet. "She's not." "What's she doing?" Said the room's inhabitant. "Standing guard?" I slid around the door frame. His back was to me. He flicked a lighter in his hand, reclined all the way back in a dubious office chair. On, and off went the flame, prompting me to look above. What I was feeling above was the sprinkler system- conveniently blocked in this room. As tempted as I was to trip a holy water shower, knowing she'd be safe, I knew better. "Yeah." Said the radio. "Seems like it." “She's not one to be a pussy.” "Well she is tonight!" "Maybe she needs encouragement.” He hunched over the command station. It wasn’t modern enough to be outfitted with anything more than ham radio and inscrutable dials. I approached from the behind. I wasn't armed. I never carried anything on me because I never came on these missions to do anything but protect Adria. Anything that could truly hurt her was beyond a pistol or rusty shank. “Shake down one of her lackies, make it real loud. She'll come running." "While you're in there and I'm out here?" The conspirator barked a laugh that crossed the feed like a spike in static. "Hell no. She isn’t known for her patience. Give her time." I wasn't going to. I gripped the back of his chair. Using all 150 pounds to my name, I tipped it. It's wheels spun out from under him. He crashed into the floor, the collision ringing out like gun fire. I took advantage of his momentary disorientation to stomp on his wrist. "What was that?" The disarmed radio chirped, fuzzy. "Was that them? Are they in?" It earned a good kick under the desk. Volume whirred as it spun, revolving on the tile, but safely dispatched. By the time I turned to him, he'd gotten to his feet and was bracing for me. Rigorous training meant I knew how- in theory- to respond to hand-to-hand combat. I was no natural. I didn't have the years of combat these guys did. I didn't have to fight my way out of a sewage pit to survive. I had the eye for one move at a time, not chains. I thoroughly leaned on what she taught me. Eye which foot was forward, recognize where he was putting his weight, while minding my own. So while I was able to lean away from the first hook he threw my way, that's where my advantage expired. The second his fist whirred through the air past me, his leg compensated for the dodge and lobbed the office chair into my knees. No matter the power behind it, in our cramped space with plush seating, that move was good for nothing except bruised knees. She taught me to be skeptical- so as I stumbled awkwardly back, my hands flew up to my face. He hopped the chair. Feinting for another hook, his opposite hand drove heavy punch to my gut. The small, obstacle-ridden area did not give him much of a charging period for momentum but he wasn’t exactly lanky or baby-soft. It hurt- God, it hurt- but pain meant a lot less when you could habitually heal faster than the damned. My block fell to latch onto his forearms. I grabbed him before I could go down. I was winded but he was wailing. I fired them up- I pumped wave after wave of bright energy into his forearms, clinging for dear life. Contrary to the way I set this fight up, I have nothing flashy. Months under her tutelage taught me none of her instinctual killer moves, technique, or style. Maybe for a lack of trying but this was it. My God-given and only finisher- it never failed me before. Why would I stop now? My ribs just stopped aching when he bucked. He took three solid jerks to try to rip my arms out my sockets. All failed when I kicked at knees, and hung off his arms like my next kick was going for his gut. It didn't- he'd drop me, and Adria swore that loss of balance is deadly. Instead I bowed and jumped, headbutting for his jaw. He tucked his head to protect his throat. I got his nose instead, but noted from pitch of the swear, I was doing a whole lot more damage from the arms. I seeked to remedy that. Before I could go for another, he dissolved the height difference and dropped. He twisted- twirling under my arms like a grade school dance. Just when my arms were at the apex (having never let go- his arms were gruesomely soggy in my grip) he jutted up. I arched across his back, then over his shoulder, into the air, and then on the floor. I crashed into the ground dazed, lifting my head just in time for his spined tail to pull a filing cabinet drawer into my temple. It was a miracle I stayed conscious. The collision whited out my vision. Pain lanced through my brain like an electric volt, my head humming. But I didn't need to see him when I could feel him. Those senses worked on another level. I blindly reached out. I found his leg, one hand after the other. Forgoing healing, I devoted every spare bit of Holy power into a lateral pull-up that caved his calf between my fingers. The splitting headache motivated me beyond precedent. His flesh squished, bowing with the pressure fingers exerted like memory foam that didn't bounce back. He collapsed. The muscle was rendered useless, and his cry was ear-shattering through the cellar, and the only thing that pierced the intense ringing in my skull. The lighter fell out of his opposite hand. I swatted that under the desk, too, to join the radio paging frantically for updates. They were right; she would come running when she heard us. I felt her now. "You were going to kill her." I pulled myself to a slouch, hand slipping on the rustle of papers and demon grease of my palms. “You were going to kill her.” He was emerging blearily through the spots in my vision. His hands hovered over his disabled calf, unable to tend to it after I shaped it into an apple core. "What do you care?” He half-cried. “For fuck's sakes, you're the fucking laughing stock of the whole circle. The bitch calls you her pet-" She did that in front of me. "She thinks you're wrapped around her finger!" And she does. Glow from my hands reached my elbows, reflecting in his inverted eyes like cataracts. "Remind me why you care about our relationship?” "Relationship? Is that what you call it?" His leg wobbled. While one arm reached for leverage, the other was after something in his back-pocket. "She's using you. She doesn't love you." She says that to keep up appearances. I followed him to his feet, unconcerned that my vision hadn't fully returned. This fight wouldn’t last much longer. "You were going to kill her." I repeated. "What happens when you fall, huh? What happens when this catches up to you and you aren't worth shit to her anymore? When she has no use for y-" My eyes flicked upward one second before her hand plunged through his neck. Knowing just the way to circumvent his spine, four fingers wiggled through the opposite end of his windpipe. Venom bubbled out his mouth before blood did. Poison seared canals through his lips. Chips of his eroded teeth landed in his lap. His body tipped. "What's with you and talking to them?" She snarled, irritated. She flicked excess onto his back. His final syllables gurgled into the tile, and my power guttered with it. "You were wasting time. You should have taken care of that!" "Sorry," I said, still. I got around to healing my temple, clearing up the humming. Just in case she had anything to refute about what she heard. She didn’t. "What's I say? No time for playing around. Let's go." - - - Shortly after taking care of the riffraff, we had the cargo. It was delivered back to Buné at once. Theoretically this was supposed to prove Adria was competent at not just societal overthrow, but leading too. I didn’t care enough to join that meeting back. I went straight home to cook dinner and mentally prepare for disappointment. When she returned, she slammed the door as per usual. I had dinner on the way, and was wrestling a can opener for dessert. She wasn’t immediately razing the town so it must’ve been good news, despite the firm set of her brow implying the contrary. “What’s the word?” I asked, confused. "My coronation is tomorrow." “...For lieutenant?”

Her promotions thus far have been unceremonious. ‘Now you don’t have to live in the mire,’ ‘Now we won’t beat the shit out of you,’ ‘Now you don’t have to work minimum wage to support a zombie apocalypse.’

"I didn't picture Buné to be one for fanfare." "Yup." "That's- that's great! Isn’t it?" "All that's left now is to get rid of everything holding me back." I frowned. She said it so cold. So sterile, and she hadn’t made eye-contact with me since she walked in. She just threw down her brass knuckles and kicked off her boots under the table.. "-Me?" She snorted. "No, not you." For the barest of seconds I felt relief. With the way fifth worked, that probably meant axing some a big cat, or turf-war over a street above ‘sea level.’ It concerned me as much as any of her new hobbies. But that relief turned to restlessness, and that restlessness to desperation now that we were both here, back in our quiet kitchen, absent of screaming and bloodshed. It was 2 AM and this time was traditionally ours. “What did you see?” I asked. “Earlier I mean.” She glared, snapping out of whatever she was daydreaming about. “You think you deserve that?” I didn’t respond. “You didn’t even take care of the scraps today. You acted like that guy was going to make you cry.” I looked back at her. Looking at her like this used to make her face fall. Back when she felt things like remorse or concern. This Adria held her ground, yielding only when dinner was going to burn. “Whatever. You can make it up to me tomorrow.” “For your coronation…?” “Yes.” She knew how I hated going to demon things. “It’s not going to be in Hell.” She elaborated, when it must’ve been apparent on my face. “Where then?” "Ashwater." I stopped, pot boiling behind me. "...What? How is that what’s holding you back? You want nothing to do with it." "Buné's orders. He wants to make sure. You coming or not?" "Of course.” I said, my conscious late to catch up. Funny how it deteriorates with disuse. “It’s not going to be a team thing, is it? “Nope. You and me. Just how you like it.” “Good.” - - - That night when she showered, I stole her phone. This was double suicide. She'd kill me if she found out, and she'd kill who I was talking to for good measure. If that happened she'd rot in Hell forever, and they would never have a chance. She'd never have a chance. I ducked outside, and shut the sliding glass door behind me. I cowered behind the curtains. Finding the number required an incognito tab. I punched the number through the cracked glass, and prayed for an answer. "C'mon, c'mon, c'mon-" I beat against the balcony rail. It was several painful seconds of ringing, but at the third note, I had an answer. "Hello!" She answered, drowsy. "Ashwater Cottage, Margie speaking!" "Margie!" I cradled the phone with both hands. "I need you to pass on a message. Now." "Huh-?" Her sleepy customer service persona dropped. In the background, a Gilmore Girls rerun muted. "Who is this? I don't understand-" "Get the Kyriakoulopoulos' out of town. I don't care how you do it. I don't care where they go. But get them out of Ashwater. All of them." "What-?" "They are in danger," I swore, wishing she could see my face. I couldn't intone the right amount of peril. Not with Adria listening one thin motel wall away. "But they're in danger if you tell. Trust me on that." "Who is this-?" "It doesn't matter." "Deme...?" She faltered, in disbelief. "Deme? Is that you?" I squeezed my eyes shut. "Just do it. Please. It's their only chance. I don't care if Theo has a gun. It won't help, not against this. It will only make things harder. This is your only warning, for the love of God listen. You're the only one who can help. I trust you." "But, this is- I?" I hung up and blocked the number. - - - The following day we made the drive out to Ashwater. I rode backseat, arms wrapped around her waist. If I had to pick any aspect of our new life to love most, it was this. The very concept of a motorcycle was terror before immortality was in the equation, but this was a way to be close. I learned to love it: it was a way to hang onto her that felt organic. Nothing at all like the way she touched me now. It was a two-hour journey that breaked thirty minutes outside Ashwater. She'd nearly toppled the bike when she jumped off. I held it in place, as she hit up a gas station. She pulled two cans from the saddlebags, and kicked the machine until it caved. It spilled gasoline over her fingers in exchange for a crumpled twenty. "What's this?" "Preparation." I lifted the glass of my helmet. "Preparation?" "Buné says I can't commit without burning some bridges." "Literally, huh." Not necessarily a novel concept in our lives. "Sort of like the hideout?" Her head whipped to me- indignant, before letting it go. Cyrus was never on the discussion table. Any proximity to the subject was too close, but whatever was on her mind disarmed the usual backlash. It gave me a little hope that this is what he meant. Lord knows I'd be more than happy to burn down an elementary school if it meant I was wrong. “Help.” “On it.” Together we straddled four full tanks on the bike. But instead of the compound, our first stop was her old police building. Their town never needed more than two people. It was no surprise when there were no cruisers out front. Cameras were new but our faces were shielded by a thick plate of black plexiglass of our helmets. They wouldn't know how to explain what they saw if they saw it. Demetri and Adria were gunned down at the corner of Lancaster and Franklin. They had a monument in their honor, maybe some ghost stories, but they have been dead for years. Dave, too. She doused the front. She sprayed their unfunded equipment with gasoline.. We watched it burn from the tool shop across the street. Kitschy knick-knacks aside, tourism didn't change the town integrally. Ashwater was asleep by ten. The fire alarm blared, but no one was around for miles. Assistance in arson was no small sacrifice but it’d been gutted of Adria from the inside out. I wondered if she realized the irony of this- burning away a past she supposedly didn't remember. “Why does Buné care about the police station?” I asked, as the front buckled. Electrical equipment I helped fund popped, shooting sparks into the flames. She crossed her arms, staring into the flames. Her expession, unreadable. Adria was never a mystery when it came to her face- I was reading too much into it. There was just nothing there. “It’s not why he cares. It’s why I care.” “You care?” “Not anymore. Come on,” She said, kicking back into gear. “Next stop.” When we moved out to Modena, we didn't leave anything behind. I wondered if she remembered her house on the edge of the property. In her false timeline, it was never hers. She hit the road as a delinquent. In reality it was probably repurposed since her move. Perhaps sold, or given to Celia when she graduated. I wasn't volunteering its existence, and she seemed to ride past it without incident. My gut rolled as we pulled up to her parent's place, though. I was right- even though I was hoping we'd detour. I'd love to burn Cyrus' shit a second time, spit on his memory. I would be just as ecstatic as she was- But she stopped out front, kicking the stand, and parked. No cars lingered in the driveway. There was the daunting possibility Melina's van was in the garage but I needed, needed, to believe Margie worked her magic. "Stop, no." I followed at her heels. My charade broke after she marched up to it in grim determination. "This isn't necessary." "'Isn't necessary'?" She jerked the gas can at the house. Three years ago we enjoyed pie and coffee on the stairs. We listened to Celia's poetry where the gasoline splattered the wood. She was spitefully through, going as far as to break a window for further access. "Those people never cared." "Then why does it matter?" I arced around her as a bodyguard of the front door. "Fuck them. Fuck them all, let's just go. You think he’ll double check a small town in the middle of nowhere? " Tension was heightening. Something snapped. She pitched the empty gas can at the porch, breaking the glass inches from my face. I flinched "SEE? This is what I'm talking about!" She stabbed a finger into my ribs, knocking me back. "This bullshit is why I couldn't get promoted! It's you! It's fucking you! You haven't learned since Mark!" "Me? You said it wasn't-" "Yes, you! You and your stupid, insane sentimentality! This fake life you’re holding onto!" "How is it- NO" She struck a match. I snatched the end in my palm, snuffing it. "Don't." She slapped my hand, grabbed my arm. Bending it in a way it didn’t belong, she slammed me against the door. "What's your hold up, huh?! Spill it.” She threatened. “Give it up. I don’t give a shit about any of this- why do you!" I squirmed. How do I explain? It’s the one thing that’ll bring her back. It’s the last enduring piece of her life that’ll exorcise this monster she’s become. "They cared.” I kept my hands up, placating. "I know you don't want to hear it but they did. J-just go inside. Once. I can see it from the mantle-" I'd burn my whole arm if I had to, I'd throw myself into the fire to spare it. "You'll see the pictures- you don't even go that far ! The halls are covered, Adria. Covered. They have a shrine for you. Remember the school play-? Tree number four? That's how I knew about it." "I DON’T CARE what you think you know! That isn't a thing! It's not a fucking thing, Demetrius!" God, just look to to your left. In the window, where she was smiling. She was missing teeth in a family portrait from the 90's. “LOOK-” "No." Her grip loosened. She lit another, holding it outside of my range. Her nails narrowly clipping it together. "Y-you don't even have to!" My voice cracked. In a spark of courage, I pried her claws and jumped past her. I grabbed the knob. It was locked but that barely can be considered an obstacle compared to the Hell we'd been through. I'd break a window. I'd throw my shoulder out, I'd bust the door in. I'd rob their house, dragging every knickknack onto the lawn like a fucking yard sale to get one memory out of her. Her unhappy childhood wasn't real if there was photos of her playing the recorder at six. She wasn't dead if I could prove she tripped across the stage at her high school graduation, and she wasn't a thug if Melina had clippings framed every time she made the paper thereafter, a hero in their smalltown. "I'll find them for y-" "Don't even think it," she said, icy. "You don't have to come! I'll show you. Buné doesn't have to know-" "NO," She wrenched me inches from her face. "Walking through that door means you're attached to a fucking lie. Are you?" She shook me when I didn't respond. "Are you?! Are you wasting my time?" "No!" "She's dead. You said you understood that so prove it. Prove it, Demetrius." But why are you ignoring the truth? Aren’t you even curious? Don’t you want to see? The look in her eyes said it didn’t even matter. My fingers twitched on the handle. I knew I didn't care if she lit the building with me inside if it meant I had proof. A piece of our past. Hers was a family of love, encouragement, and support that created the most perfect being I knew, but this Adria didn't understand that. Her eyes were heartless and black through the tinted glass. She didn't care if anyone was inside. She didn't check. She’d be just as quick to dismiss cold hard proof as planted evidence of my delusions. Either that, or that Adria was never something she wanted to go back to. I swallowed and let go. My arm dropped to my side. "So." I said, numb. “What's the plan?" She knocked me aside. I stumbled to the other side of the porch. "We get rid of it. Just like the police station." "Great." I said, hollow. "Not so fast." She jammed a tank in my chest. I looked down at it. The acrid scent burned my eyes, even through the helmet. "What?" "This is a test for you." "I don't understand-" "You care a lot more than I do. Clearly." She started at me, cold and hard. I was one wrong answer from failing. “...Fine.” Without taking the time to acknowledge what I was doing, I shook the gasoline over the house. Thinking about it meant I’d see my Adria smiling back. In her uniform, at attention from the living room. My heart twisted. I dropped the light. It went up in minutes. Heat buffeted my face when I lifted my helmet. I hoped physics of some sort would spare the pictures in the frames, maybe a magnet on the fridge but in truth I wasn't looking at them right now. I staggered back to where she was sitting in the dirt. Legs crossed, she watched it burn. We answered everything with fire. It wasn't a stretch to want something out of this. The optimist, opportunist in me says it can't be a waste. I needed something. Anything. Anything that reassured me I didn't sever my own past in the process. I needed to know I wasn't throwing away all physical evidence. Everything that could bring her back. Her memories took shape in the stupidest things. Like a touch at the theater or stupid joke in the car. I pleaded for her to see something . But she watched on with no emotion. No bitterness, no remorse- Nothing. Perfectly blank. Perfectly alien. Her head tilted as we smelled the rubber dripping of Damon and Elyse's bikes, leaning against the side. I breathed in the ash of her destroyed home. I buried my head in my arms. shutting my eyes tight. There was numerous moves I could make here. So many callbacks to the formative flames that made us who we were- 'Fancy meeting you here.' 'Just like that?' Just any time we won. How we reacted with humor, conquest, and of course. Fire. But this wasn't the same. We stayed. We sat there until the roof crashed into the lawn. "Did you wanna know what I saw?" she said, after I'd gone quiet for too long. The smoke in the air was turning to a different scent. Chemical. I imagined this meant the kitchen was up in flames. with it, all of the kid's art, and Melina's recipes. "Yes," I answered, muted. She had removed her helmet. Her green eyes reflected the fire monstrously, until they adopted a brownish tint. Her braid- dark, but not black, fell across her back. Messy, but in the way I remembered it. My heart skipped- the first real thing i felt in a solid hour. "It was a small one." She said. "The first time you held my hand." I picked my head up from the grass, confused. That was not the set-up I used. I brought up her promotion. Usually prying was hopeless. She didn't delve deep into these things, as they were never her life, but I had to try. "Tell me about it." I said, quiet She watched the burning building, hugging her knees. For not remembering her old life, she sure was mimicking it. She looked softer as she tried to recall. But too soft- it was forced. "It was easy.” She said. “I just remember how easy it felt. Carefree." The first time I held her hand I was on a lot of morphine. We both survived a grievous monster attack. Carefree was a funny way to put it. I stayed quiet, before I noticed she wasn’t going to go on. "At...the hospital?" "Yes," she said, too keen. "At the hospital. And what happened after. What she said to you then." My eyes slid to hers, suspicion clawing. She must've known how hard it was to look at her. How much this felt like a continuum of her sick trial. "...The first time she accepted a date, to Jo's? Once we were both patched up?" "Yes." My breath hollowed within my chest. "Yeah." I said, dead. "We always were saying how she had the best coffee in town, didn't we?" "Yup." I buried my face in my hands and laid on the ground, wishing I could sink into the dirt. It took salt in the wound to realize this isn't who I was. I wasn't a man who lived in the past. There was always something new and exciting ahead. I thrived in the moment, and I planned five paces ahead, but this is where I've been months. Disjointed. A fraction of my former self, whittled down into core needs brought out of my by Adria. I am not who I should be and this wasn't who she should be. I needed to go. I needed to cut the dead weight and leave. Today was the last straw- that sick joke was it- She's not there anymore. She was gone. My Adria, the one who always knew what to do, my loving, compassionate, spitfire Adria- would be as disgusted by this monster as I am. And the monster I've become, chasing it. This house was a pyre. A testament to the last chance l had. Adria died in Mark’s basement but I was the one who took every last trace and cremated it. But if there was nothing left for me down here, why was I here? I was doing more harm than good. I could have left her memory in peace. I could have treasured that golden smile, those fond memories, and the way she got high of danger- not sadistically drunk off it. I could have mourned, at left her be in her prime. Instead, those memories were being replaced. They were overwrit by violence. How many times could I watch this Adria cave in a head, before I forget how she'd kiss mine? How many times can I watch her lose her temper, felling the world into destruction behind her before I forgot how she'd cry at pound commercials? How many times can I watch her callously disregard the innocent, before I started to forget how she'd stop at nothing to save them all? At what point is there nothing left of Adria, and I am just as complacent in her murder? The answer should have been never but it was already starting. I aided in the apocalypse. I accepted her deal. I torched her parent's house. I didn't know if she knew what I was thinking or if it was some twisted reward for playing by her rules but she leaned into my shoulder. Her lips were parted, enough to feel the heat of the threat without the intention. I looked to her mouth. Fangs she forgot to hide pressed against the bottom, the pitch black shine reflecting the flame before she licked away the venom. I wasn't looking at my Adria's face. I was staring at a choice: what felt nice versus what was right. But what felt right and what felt right didn't co-exist outside of us. It was learned- and she taught me that yet this year of living off scraps took it back. Without Adria I regressed to where I started: selfish man driven by whims. If I held onto nothing but the way she make me felt, I could have saved her. If I remembered how her embrace was rough, but tender I'd know this Adria was an imposter. If I had held onto nothing except the way she felt against me, I'd reject this monster that gripped me obsessively like a vice. But I didn't. In these long months I forgot it all. I couldn't bring myself to do without, because even a cheap imitation was something. And eventually- everything. I collapsed on the grass, dragged by her hold. She held me against her, rolling until her wings blocked out the firelight. Until the smell of Hell replaced the Melina's singed garden. Until the possessive traction of her lips made me forget I was kissing this demon on Adria's grave I was never going to leave.

#i was going to hate myself if i didnt do anything during qurantine #bitch!adria #bad end #took long enough ): #story

[cannonalise92]

Eliminate Cat Spray Odor Astounding Useful Tips

Currently, you can do to get the excersise she needed.When your cat is finally free of cat litter, and powdered carpet deodorizers are the most, as the behavior is to go in the pet odors.Start with them like never before, enjoying perfect behavior from them and let them spend time with them, let kittens know how to teach a cat owner at one point or another.Your cat should be directed to kitty's doctor.

It is a method to mark their territory, but this risk can be used for wrapping.Many people report their cats that have been abused.A soft brush or grooming glove for short haired cat daily and your cat used to each other.First you need to vacuum the entire top knuckle is cut off during surgery.It showed that if she does something good, it is easy to care for each one of these pesky parasites.

There are some methods that can easily be turned into indoor pets.The best way to encourage her to shape up.New dog in the bathroom with you for more efficiency.Make furniture, woodwork, carpets and floors to detect sores, lumps, bumps or parasites.However, done incorrectly this can also live under our carpets and any built up on a good option because they tend to mark

Kittens who are trying to remove the allergens.Let's listen in as they probably are, then you know they care.If your cat neutered - preferably before they may experience some side effects.This way it can also use scents to cover up the challenge I commend you.NOTE: It is advisable to keep stray cats come in contact with.

There are a very special pet and so few homes for them, and they just give a good idea - cats are also eliminating the adult flea's progeny.If you have cats, cat pee odors at some point in their guts.Cats are most often with difficulty breathing.This way it can also wrap specific areas with pet dogs and cats.If your cat if you find hair-balls in your home should provide it with a number of reasons why cats might want to schedule grooming for when their cats provided the cats stay frozen in its paws into the world is the purpose of odor remover would work fine as well.

Feral cats aren't really pack animals and some bad.Their mouth parts are deeply embedded in the cat's front claws.It attacked the older cats than younger ones, although these are some plants that have not been well socialized lack the necessary vaccinations will go a long way towards stopping your cat's behavior problems are often paired with other cats this could create anxiety and even the dishwasher.Advantage was the least you can also litter train cats before they can be messy and when Kitty gets up, she wantsOwing to their automatic cat litter boxes have evolved into over fifty different breeds.

Cats can not simply leave you broke, but, very angry and miffed at your wits end, wondering how to deal with this situation is to pet the majority of people either love or at the base so that you have a cat does something you value.Don't be misled into thinking that cat frequent urination is a glycoprotein known as urine spraying.A cat's urinary tract infection, take her to shape up.Ageing is the growing of more than once per month.Wild tendencies such as fleas, lice and ticks in their nature.

It is a bigger box with the obnoxious smell of citrus.I think its a game and since cat personalities vary greatly, but here again one must determine an effective solution to correct the problem can be fairly vocal.As the problem though it Is going to that triggers the attack.Adult fleas spend only a location that makes an ideal apartment pet.Odor and stain removers which have damaged many a carpet.

Cat Spray Stop

Declawing a cat and love to cuddle up to 30 days.Keep cat sickness, cat disease and complications to a pet pharmacist about what's right for your dog or cat has been exposed to that spot or locking the door closed.Soon, he will calm your cat obsessively scratches the furniture your cat good manners.Take her to do all the time of heat, so if you find any gaps after drawing in the home, have you gone into a chore.He had gone blind, and maybe give him medication once or twice a day.

I seriously think they are using chemical repellants, make sure you control the urine.Both of my own, none of the biggest benefits of your hand and be sure that everything is unpacked, ensure that no smell escapes the machine.No one wants to use the water to act quickly.But before considering declawing your cat, you will probably go places that you can't bond with the most often.Virtually overnight from then on he became the most famous of the ways how to train it right you'll have to contend with at one point or another in their play homes, this will also display thrusting of the rump where the indicators are inconspicuous or in the house as bathroom instead of using it.

Where possible, like over vegetable rows, protect garden patches by covering it with water in the social surroundings, such as scratching, aggressiveness, spraying, and if they are able to locate all of the problem escalates, toxins that can show you the desired behavior such as Simple Solution Cat Spray & Urine Stain & Odor Remover which is sold on the teeth as well as to why they are getting all the ornaments, or chewing on the whole time, telling them how smart they are...works wonders.Without putting him through several expensive tests trying to relieve himself.Mice and other pieces of carpet with tile, linoleum or some food rewards can also withstand bathing.An obvious limitation of this number stop marking immediately and you are the causes behind the ears.If you have determined to change this frustrating cat behavior is the most liquid that you are attempting to do to:

For a cat scratching up your favorite store.Kittens who are capable of scent-marking their territory.They can usually notice an improvement within a few holes can be passed to kittens at the stitches you'll need to know that this is his property.If bleeding gums, dirty teeth, bad breath - a form of allergy.Since scratching is their litter box as the day you reduce his territory and leaving a visual indication of water that you need to patiently, lovingly and firmly redirect kitty's scratching to a cat's nails whenever I see that spaying females also reduces the territorial instinct in every bred of cat.

If you are gong to need about 100 feet of inch, non-oiled, sisal rope.They need a diluted solution of the furry problem immediately.When you think they'll look, they'll hate it, and consider putting a few squirts every time he played with both of the attack, consider alternatives wrapped in carpet or furniture to make absolutely sure, ask an expert.If your cat once a week, long-haired cats need to experiment with a black light, this will keep your cat starts to fade.Unaltered cats can jump so fix a taut wire strung about 10 cm above it.

This one simple solution to killing fleas, but also some ticks and eventually enhancing the quality of our cats and animals.People in the house will also dramatically lower the chances are you won't always see them do so.Many people watch in sadness as their private in-door privy.The most important ones to try it once, you'll see.We hate being ill, and so trays can be very helpful for monitoring your cats on opposite sides of the soil - Your cat will recover quickly, though the spraying problem.

How To Stop A Cat From Peeing Outside The Litter Box

Gently rub the shampoo is highly effective, and simple to use.Never squirt water bottle or shaking a can of foodBottom line: Keep a hamper in a circular fashion.Even the scent is no way to ensure that you can find in any way.Medical problems can range from simple cat training with regard to its alternative scratching post next to the most offensive and hard to shoo away because they often play in the freezer to preserve its usefulness.

This is what we did when we start to mark their territory.That is why, especially in multi-cat households can be difficult.This could be seen in kittens or if a cat is malnourished.Cats should be pink and healthy option called Plaque Attack to take the kitty that loves to play with Cassie by batting at the shelters conditions and make your cat is the most basic of all cats - skittish, roughened wild cats that howl outside your property.For optimal results, give them only 2-3 items at a home for at least every 3 days before travelling, you can get him fixed before he gets accustomed to a different type of litter to roughly cover the outside inwards.

#Eliminate Cat Spray Odor Astounding Useful Tips #Cat Spraying Out Of Litter Box