#selfpara?

"I swear fuck tequila....smooth my ass it all taste the same, never try to outdrink an Irish android! He doesn't even get effected by alcohol!" The Shigofumi grumbled to himself stumbling into the bar far too early for anyone to be up. Or so he thought, His workers were already setting up for the upcoming night which only made the old man groan again. To do it all over again.

He slept the day away now walking into his establishment in his bathrobe and slippers holding a mug of steaming hot tea. The picture of a hangover. "Hey boss this came for you" His worker slid a box over to him. He glanced at it confused "A gift for me?" Setting down his mug he ripped open the box getting excited.

The dark purple puffy jacket was the first thing he saw, he smiled brightly pulling it out of the box "Oh this is beautiful!" The color was an almost perfect match to his wings. Pulling the tie of his robe he pulled it off quickly slipping on the jacket. A perfect fit. "How does it look?" He asks the bartender doing a little twirl in nothing but his boxers and jacket.

Going back to the box he took out the wax and pen, both extremely thoughtful gifts. Grabbing the box and leaving his tea behind he went back upstairs to his home to text the Demon.

[TEXT:LITTLE LOCKIE] You're too sweet, thank you for the gifts Hemlock! I love it all!

[TEXT: LITTLE LOCKIE] You should help me with the feather wax lol I can't reach back there

The night that his name was called, he destroyed his room, drank half of the liquor he had in stock and honestly cried. He wasn’t young, not like the star struck lovebirds from 12, but still. It was wrong. Yelling out in frustration, he through the book from his hand and took heed of the claw marks he left on his hand. 

They're standing there in the kitchen, one of the few times that they're all in the house together. They're oddly quiet, like they know something is about to happen. Normally his mother at least attempts small talk. Now, she's so focused on stirring her perfect little cup of Irish brew coffee that he swears there's a pot of gold at the bottom of her cup. His father is engrossed in his newspaper, reading the same tired stories that the Falls Church newspaper prints everyday. Anything new is old for the Wrights, considering that, the majority of the time, his father is the one making the news happen. This little overlap in their schedules is a golden opportunity, but he's almost sad that it's come. He has to do it now or he'll never do it. 

He wonders if it's weird that the first person he thought of was Vetis when he stood up. Vetis, the demon. It's almost ironic. His parents, who he loves more than anything, can't see through him. They see him, Thomas Wright, lacrosse star. They don't see Tom. They don't even care to remember Tommy. Yet the kind demon sees through him like glass.

He practically is glass, considering how fragile he is. He doesn't know how he's gotten to this point. He was strong once, when he had his walls up. He realizes now that reinforced glass is still glass all the same.

I have something to say.

It hurts first.

Like some kind of chemical burn, not quite breaking the skin, but instead permeating through it, bubbling and burning him inside and out. It's like everything he's ever hidden inside himself is surfacing and it's hurting like hell. It's all ready to explode out of him and it will, any second now. He's surprisingly calm on the outside, the only trace of his anxiety being the sweat crawling down his forehead. He hasn't said it yet, so there's still a ghost of a chance that he can get out of this. But he can't. He knows he can't. If he doesn't tell him now, the burn will persist and he'll go insane from the scald. Three words and he'll be free of it. At least, he hopes he will be.

Next, he thinks of Jack. He would say that Jack was the reason he's doing this, had it been days before. Now that he's actually here, he thinks it has nothing to do with Jack. Jack's simply the catalyst that accelerated the process. He's thankful for that, he thinks. He'll know after it's over.

I like boys.

After that, it's just numb.

First, they're just quiet. Not an awkward quiet or an uncomfortable quiet. It's more of an eerie silence, like the air around them is empty. He isn't getting any kind of reaction and for a moment there's a tiny glimmer of hope for him. Maybe they see how bad he's hurting. Maybe their parental love is kicking in. For once.

He's wrong.

They're yelling now, but he can't quite make out the words. It's like he's 5 years old all over again, listening to them chastise the only other gay one in the family. That's what he is. He's the new Tish. The family gay.

....disgrace.....they'll think.....future.....

When they tell him to get out, he's practically delusional.

There's like a weird sense of bliss around him, like he's finally happy for the first time. He knows he can't keep this happiness for long. Once it all sinks in, he's going to spiral. For now, he doesn't care. He's just packing away, a lost little smile on his face. He has nowhere to go. He wonders if that means he's homeless now. It makes him chuckle.

He thinks of Katherine now. Would she open her doors to him? He doesn't know if she considers him so close. She's his only real option, he supposes. If she says no, he figures he's still going to be fine. He's been alone for the past 18 years of his life, he can manage a little longer.

Age 7: [Gresham's School] A scaredy cat who is easily pushed around by the other boys and girls, but he doesn't mind as long as he is included. It already gifted with playing piano (since 5) and joins the boys choir (6). He loves music more than anything.

Age 11: [Gresham's School -> Dante's] The lowest point for Nikolay when he was at Gresham's. He had lost most, if not all of his friends due to a devastating rejection (10) of another. He spends his time playing piano and other instruments & studying instead of socializing. His depression and patience proved fruitful in the end, but he was transferred to Dante's at the beginning of their school year (12). Academically he is always between 3.7 and 4.0, but it only drops when he misses classes and forgets to turn in work.

Age 18: [Dante's] Nearing his last year. It's filled with ups and downs, but he eventually bounces back 120% with the support of friends and family. He applies to Cambridge's music program (19) after being threatened by Damien enough times during the year they both took off to work. Yes, they live together and single-handedly finance Ikea.

Age 22: [Cambridge] Almost kills himself working towards his BA's in musical education. Doesn't find enough reward in professional musicianship and would rather help mold minds instead (that and he loves kids). Wants to earn a doctorate (knows this for certain) and literally juggles school and the planning stages of his thesis (but has to change the entire thing when he moves after graduation (22). 

Age 30: [San Francisco Conservatory] Moved to America with Damien and to be closer to Blake & Addie after his graduation from Cambridge (Even if they are in Colorado). He took some time off to get adjusted to America, but found a job as a music teacher for an elementary school (22-24). Also simultaneously worked at a middle school (23-30). Was accepted to the San Francisco Conservatory (23) to work towards his Masters Degree in Music Education. Graduates San Francisco Conservatory with a Master's and immediately works towards his Doctorate (26). Works at the high school level (26-35) and gets his doctorate and a position as a professor at the Conservatory (30).

Oh right, he gets married & a US citizen somewhere in between all that. Sorry Damien. They go to Spain for a few weeks. No one asked what they did. It's better if no one did.

Age 38: [San Francisco Conservatory & Julliard] Works solely at the Conservatory (30-??) and also accepted a position as an ELearning professor for Julliard (32) (He refused to move on the grounds of having a small child). Is happily married with one daughter and is more laid back now that he's pretty much done with being a student for 95% of his entire existence thus far. He also likes the long holidays. Dislikes having to actually fly out to New York to teach a lecture a few times a month. 

He wants another cat.

--

I didn’t happen that often to her; getting rejected when she was on the hunt for a meal. She had learned to be more than cautious so she always changed her form when she was ‘active’ and she never tried to approach someone without a little observation, estimating the situation, checking out if he or she really was alone and could be potentially interested in her.

Still in very little occasions she overlooked some variable or her target was simply too stupid to understand what she wanted from him. The guy whom she had chosen for the evening was quite strong and although she normally avoided choosing such targets as a precaution, he was the only person she was interested in this club that night. It was not as crowded as usual - after St. Patrick's Day some people probably intended to economize a bit so she decided to try it with this one. What’s the worst that could happen? This rhetorical question should be answered half an hour later in a rather unpleasant way..

While she observed the man he had tried to hit on a woman, had been rebuffed pretty hard and then started to get himself drunk. Actually more or less perfect conditions for her aim, that’s why Letha couldn’t be dissuaded from her plans even when her target was surrounded by a group of men, which patted him on the shoulder and obviously told him stupid jokes. Normally it was better to not have too many witnesses around but these kinds of people didn’t really count. As the guys were withdrawing again her target disappeared inside the toilet rooms for quite a while and Letha had time to drink up.

Instead of returning to his place at the edge of the dance floor afterwards, however the guy walked purposefully to the exit and disappeared and so the succubus had to hurry to catch up. ‘Hunting’ outside the common flirt- and dance areas around a club was not only more time-consuming but also dangerous - luckily the guy in front of her hadn’t gone too far and did not show the slightest inclination to go home right now. He leaned against the stone wall of some small side street near a street lamp and took a pull on a cigarette, a beer bottle in his left hand. Letha smiled to herself and took a deep breath. It was showtime! If you dealt with the issue of human prey scheme for so long and so intensively as she had to it almost went automatically to embody exactly the woman the man would most be interest in. So instead of approaching him as confident and upright as she would normally have done it, she first pulled down the shoulder straps of her dress a little, wrapped the carrying strap of her handbag clumsily over her shoulder and kind of stumbled uncertainly towards the man. When she saw that he had noticed her she acted surprised and immediately lowered her eyes.

"Oops, I didn’t want to disturb anyone -didn’t knew someone was there..’specially not someone as good looking .. " she giggled deliberately silly and played with the clasp of her hand bag. If she hadn’t been so focused on her role she would have noticed the unnaturally dilated pupils of the man - or how erratic he drew on his cigarette. As she turned to go the man held her back as she’d expected - but something wasn’t right about it..

"Not so fast, doll, stay. We can make ourselves comfortable here! "

His words were unintelligible and sluggish and the grip with which he held her back roughly on the shoulder was painful. Letha, surprised, looked the man right in the face and almost jumped back, startled. He was on drugs. Not just the “easy stuff” that students would take for some illegal relaxation - but one of those substances which destroyed the brain pretty fast. Whatever it was, he couldn’t have taken it for a longer period of time otherwise she would have noticed the symptoms at the very beginning, she wasn’t stupid! He had been quite normal before- could his mates have given him something? At least that would explain why he had been in those toilet rooms for so long. Anyway, this was out of her range - hard drugs were a lot worse than a strong will or incontestable principles; the man who had downed them was - despite her skills - practically uncontrollable! If Letha feared anything, it was losing control. So instead of continuing to play her role nicely and somehow wriggle out of this mess she made the mistake to give in to her instinct to flee and simply punched the guy. "Get off me!"

The effect of course wasn’t at all what she’d hoped for, instead of letting her go the guy just got angry and pushed her roughly against the wall beside the streetlight.

"Like hell I’ll do, bitch, you can’t come on to me like that- I'll tell you when you’re allowed to go and.." Letha only listened with half an ear. Her heart raced and she looked around whether someone would be around to help. Usually there was absolutely no reason for her to fear humans at all, even if they wouldn’t be flirtatious with her they were at least so sympathetic because of her powers to never seriously hurt her. The guy in front of her instead was unratable - he might turn around and vanish into thin air - or go crazy and hurt her. He seemed to no longer feel any pain because of the drugs; he hadn’t even flinched when she had hit him and it was a miracle that he somehow was still able to form coherent sentences considering the crazy look in his eyes.

Letha did the only thing she could right now, keeping quiet and hoping that nothing would happen to her. The guy seemed to be content with that and relaxed his grip before he leaned forward and pressed his mouth to her neck. Letha had to restrain herself not to be shaken by disgust, but she was used to a lot of things eventually, so she didn’t stop him. Then, however, the guy began to grope her and the succubus’ patience nevertheless snapped. This was her game, nobody would dupe her! She let go of all caution and kicked his private parts to break away while he dealt with it, but the man caught himself far too quickly again and roughly pulled her back at the strap of her handbag. The strap of her dress tore when she abruptly pulled the handbag from her shoulder; she rather lost the bag than being hurt!

She wreathed herself finally out of his grip as quickly as she could and simply ran, so that the guy failed to reach her again and screamed a tirade of insults behind her. Relieved, she turned ‘round the corner, imagining herself already safe when something hit her; the clink of breaking glass resounded and a sharp pain made her cry out. Startled, she touched her aching shoulder and then looked at her fingers, covered in a mixture of blood and beer. This asshole had actually thrown his bottle of beer at her! Fortunately he had only managed to briefly graze her shoulder, it doesn’t bear contemplating what would have happened if he had been targeting correctly and hitting her head!

Letha was boiling with rage though because she still feared the man she didn’t went back. Instead she swiftly turned into the nearest backyard and changed shape, without the extra kick of energy from the actually planned meal and because of the injury, it was protracted and took longer than usual, but she didn’t want to stay in this shape for any other second!

The abrasions were no problem and disappeared almost completely while her appearance was in transformation but everything that literally went ‘under her skin’ couldn’t be change as simply and so the dirty cut remained as it was.

Letha would have been glad to have her handbag with her now. Not because she had something valuable in its pockets (money meant nothing to her now that she had enough and she never took an ID with her when she was on a hunt - after all, she couldn’t get one for every appearance she had and so she just made sure to look old enough to never be asked to show it) but because she missed the thin sweater she usually took with her in her bag. Now she had no choice as to stay in that thin dress with the torn strap and go back home as she was.

Kris guessed that he would probably be in trouble, knowing that it was impossible to skip class in Hogwarts without it being known.  But at that moment he simply couldn't face Potions.  Instead he found one of the banned hallways and parked himself in an out of the way crook.  At that moment he had given up caring; if he was expelled for skipping class in a forbidden passage then at least he had somewhere to go.