Sonmi's Couples, Characters and Writing - Posting Welcome

[Lierre]

That one was sweet. <3

[Ineedatribal]

Sorry for the late-ish reply, but I loved it. Thank you so much! ^^

[Sonmi-451]

Full name: Elizabeth Eleanor Marie Gates (maiden name Lightning)
Description: "She was incredibly beautiful, probably more beautiful than me and at least as beautiful as Amanda, with a frame that was obviously long, lean and muscular even incased in a metal suit – she was at least Amanda’s height as well – and tan skin that just perfectly accented her otherwise light features, as well as just an aura of power that, after seeing that same thing around Marsha and Amanda, convinced me that she wasn’t mortal, and probably wasn’t human either. Medium-length blonde hair that hung down to little bit below her shoulders framed a downright stunning face with bold cheekbones that looked like they were used to taking on a hard expression and a perfect but equally bold nose that just added to the idea that she wasn’t someone to be messed with. However, the thing that completed the look that she could kick your ass without even trying too hard was her eyes.
They were exactly the same color as Amanda’s, but they were far less motherly and warm and far more stormy – it was like Amanda’s eyes were the warm flame of a pure gold candle and this girl’s eyes were like the pure lightning that crackled and razed anything it touched – and it was obvious that those eyes had seen a lot more than they would have liked. However, it was also obvious that the owner of those eyes was content, down to her very soul, no matter how hard and tough she appeared..." (from Perfect)
"She was tall, somewhere approaching six feet, with sun-darkened skin that offset her little-longer-than-shoulder-length blonde hair. Sunglasses covered her eyes, but he could feel her gaze on him just as surely as he could feel the sun on his back. She was absolutely stunning, all hard muscle and curves, and she walked with an easy, almost loping and arrogant grace that screamed for itself her familiarity with weapons and violence. The way she approached him, as if she had all the time in the world and was completely confident that he wasn’t going to go anywhere, was more than a bit predatory, and made him think of a wolf walking towards a rabbit. " (from Darklighters)
"The outsider girl moves like the lightning that sparks in her unsettling, ancient golden eyes, and the first thing I know she's thrown herself at me with amazing speed. A split-second later, I find myself staring up at her on top of me, an incredibly sharp and very cold blade being held at my throat.
The first thing that I notice is that she is all hard muscle and soft curves, a wonderful contrast that surprises me with how well it fits together, and the second thing that comes to mind is that she smells unusual, like the aftereffects of a storm – ozone. It is not a bad smell by any means – I personally love the smell of ozone because it means that it has just rained, and God knows that rain is very precious nowadays – but it just an odd one, because I certainly have never smelled a woman who is scented like ozone, especially when such a scent seems to be as much of a part of her as her eyes.
Her eyes seem ready to break the heavens over my head and subject me to the most violent parts of nature's wrath, and, as I stare deeper into them, I can't help but be fascinated by how old they are; according to her eyes, she should have lived five or six thousand years. I know very well that the stories about the immortals, the people who actually did live that long, are actually very true – I have read more than my fair share of transcripts of questionings of immortals, none of which ended well for the immortals – and the possibility that this girl could be one of them wasn't outlandish at all. She certainly isn't an American, that's for sure; she would have been long dead on Marks – I can easily come up with eleven for her without trying very hard – if she was.
She is absolutely stunning as well as absolutely cold – the look in her eyes is calculating, and I can tell that she is weighing the pros and cons of killing me in her mind – and she is definitely no stranger to blood and killing. She and I are one in the same in that respect, then." (from Marked)
"He looked up from the battlefield report he was reading to find her standing in front of him next to a stunning blonde girl with golden eyes filled with lightning that he found more than a little unsettling... It was as she regarded him with that gaze full of sparks, that stare that could electrocute him at any given moment, that he realized, with a sort of sinking feeling in his stomach, where he had seen the look in her eyes before: on martyrs who smiled as they were hung up on crosses... . She certainly didn't look like a martyr – she was fourteen, fifteen, looking eighteen or nineteen by sheer virtue of how truly beautiful she was, and the stubborn set of her jaw indicated a bone-deep defiance that he was sure was the bane of many adults – yet there was no mistaking the alarming intensity in her gaze, the lack of fear that was almost frightening for what it would make her do." (from Min-Ekan-untitled)
"Elizabeth Eleanor Marie Gates, maiden name Lightning and nickname Lizzie, was very much like her brother in her grace and beauty and brokenness and very unlike him in the methodology of her internal fracturing. She was tall for a woman – at five-eleven, she was only three inches shorter than Sebastian – and incredibly fit – she won a gold medal and set the world record for the woman's hundred-meter dash at the Olympics in London when she was only seventeen – and stunning just like her brother, with blond hair that hung a little beyond her shoulders, a trademark smirk that curved her lips and revealed her beautiful smile often, and golden eyes of the same color and electric quality as her brother's. She possessed far more pain and age in her stare than Gruffen did, though, and for that reason it was almost incongruous to think that she was the younger sibling, nineteen to his twenty-two, especially with her collection of scars that was much larger than Gruffen's." (from Sebastian-Soleil-untitled)
Physical Qualities/Background Info: 5'11"; 150 lbs; nine percent body fat; fastest woman to have ever lived in the 100m dash (9.53 sec - possesses a gold medal from London 2012 for the event); covered in burn scars on her arms, torso and legs and with horizontal scars from her attempts to cut her wrists and take her own life on her forearms; born 2/13/95; attends Arizona State University on a football scholarship as a quantum physics major
Family/Lineage: Father is Tom Lightning, god of lightning and humanity's goodness incarnate; mother is Amanda Lightning (maiden name Grant), two-millennia-old immortal; siblings are Gwillan and Gruffen (identical twins - three years, four months and two days older) and Timmy (deceased - was approximately twelve years younger at time of death)
Friends/Allies/Acquaintances/People Important to Her: Min - has been her best friend since both girls were thirteen; Kellan - was her psychiatrist during her period of being suicidal; Cassandra - is the person she discusses her mental scars with; Sam Brooks - is who she helped save the life of and then became friends with; Sebastian - is the person she wishes desperately was straight for her own benefit and is very good friends with; Sarah - is the person she wishes desperately was straight for her brother's benefit and is good friends with; Nymeria - is the person she is reasonably good friends with and talks about her mental issues with upon occasion; Abby - is the person whose life she thinks she should have saved and so who she loathes herself over for not being able to rescue from the Triple Crown
Romantic Interests: Kodiak -
“Kodiak,” I breathe, as I realize how ironically – because he's a son of Kuro and Kuro got me into this mess in the first place – perfect he would be for me right now, and I call him up a second later.
He picks up on the second ring with a greeting of, “Hey, miss electric girl. How're you doing?”
I clear my throat, in an attempt to make my voice sound as normal as possible, and respond, “Not so good, Kodiak. I need someone to talk to.” After a tiny pause, I add, filling my voice with sadness – which isn't hard at all – “I need you, Kodiak.”
“I'll be right there,” he murmurs, his voice sounding oddly strained, and I've just slipped my phone into my pocket and stood up when a gateway opens up in front of me and out steps Kodiak.
As soon as he sees me, he crosses the gap in between us and wordlessly wraps me in a hug, his lean, strong arms holding me against his muscular and incredibly warm frame.
After a few long moments of comforting me this way, he pulls back and stares down at me, his golden-amber eyes a few shades darker than my own locking onto me, and asks me quietly and sympathetically, “What happened?”
“A lot has happened, Kodiak,” I say, accompanying my words with a bitter laugh and a shake of my head, “but basically I...” Here my mouth stops working, as if it is so disgusted with me that it can't bear to repeat my actions, but I force myself to continue, “cheated on Luke after being sent to an alternate dimension by your father and just told Luke about it. As you can imagine, he didn't take the news particularly well.”
“Oh,” Kodiak exclaims quietly, but he quickly recovers to tell me reassuringly, “He'll come around, Lizzie, when he realizes that you didn't really have a choice in the matter.”
“But that's the problem, Kodiak: I did have a choice, and I chose to sleep with James Matthew Forrester. Hell, I even thought about Luke right before and I didn't even hesitate in putting him out of my mind and having sex with someone else! There is no excuse for that, Kodiak. There is no excuse.” I sigh deeply, almost reveling in my helplessness. “I don't know if Luke's going to come back; I've given him lots of reasons not to. I don't know what I was doing with Forrest beyond being attracted to someone I had no right to be attracted to. I don't know what I'm going to do now that Luke's gone and there's a gaping hole in my life and my chest; hell, I don't know much of anything anymore.” I sigh again and look back up at Kodiak to find his face is mere inches from mine now and our noses are almost touching and I can see all of the incredible shades of amber in his eyes. Wait, when did he get so close?
“But that's the beauty of not being gods, Lizzie: we don't always have to know,” he tells me, his gaze locked on mine, and I'm just starting to wonder about the odd mix of emotions in his eyes when he steps forward and kiss me.
The first things I register are that his lips are incredibly soft and warm and the muscles of his torso underneath my fingertips are incredibly well-defined. As the kiss goes on, I realize I probably should pull away, but it's not until a wave of wrongness, like my body recognizes Kodiak as someone that I shouldn't be with – which, oddly enough, I never experienced with Forrest – washes over me that I finally work up the willpower to do so.
As I feel Kodiak gazing down at me almost desperately, obviously looking for some sort of response, I continue to stare purposefully at his chest, not ready to break his heart quite yet. “How long have you wanted to do that?” I ask him in a whisper, refusing to look up at him and give him any indication of what I'm thinking.
“Basically since I first laid eyes on you, but it wasn't until later that I realized what I was feeling,” he replies softly, his arms still partially around me, and his response startles me into finally looking up at him.
As soon as my eyes land on his face, I wish I hadn't looked up, because the hope and apprehension warring on his face is so painfully reminiscent of Luke and Forrest that my heart aches in remembrance. “So you've wanted to kiss me for two years?”
He shakes his head, a small, nervous smile playing at the corners of his mouth, as he corrects, “Lizzie, I haven't just wanted to kiss you for that long. I've been in love with you for two years.”
“No you haven't, Kodiak,” I say, refusing to let him delude himself – or force me to break another heart today. “You loved Ellise, but you're just attracted to me.”
“But that's the thing, Lizzie; even when I loved Ellise, you still took up a corner of my heart, and when she broke up with me and you took my side, that corner just got bigger and bigger until it was the entire area. It was you, Lizzie, the whole time.” He reaches a hand up to gently touch my face, and I take a step back and out of his arms to prevent him from doing so.
“No, it never was me, Kodiak,” I insist, almost getting angry at him for bringing this up now, after everything else that has happened to me today. “And this will never feel right, no matter how much pain I'm in.”
“Oh,” he says lamely, and I grit my teeth against the pain in my chest his word conjures up. After a moment of standing there awkwardly, staring at the ground with his hands in his pockets and his shoulders slumped, he looks back up at me and says, “Well, I guess I should go now then.”
“Yeah, I guess you should,” I agree, my tone tight with anger and frustration and sadness at the fact that all the boys I think are safe, that all the boys I think I can just be friends with, never are so I never can be.
Kodiak opens up a gateway back to his dorm at the Air Force Academy and has one foot in when he looks over his shoulder at me and tells me, “Goodbye, Lizzie. I hope for your sake Luke realizes how lucky he is to have you soon.” (from Marked)
Is rather uncomfortable friends with Kodiak now
Jackson -
Sunlight floods my eyes, and I feel someone stir next to me. For one moment, for one glorious moment, I am filled with the idea that the person next to me is Luke, that everything is going to be all right, that the scars covering my mind, body and soul don’t matter anymore. Then I inhale, and Jackson’s sharp scent, tinged with the pain and hatred he always feels, invades my nostrils and burns away any fantasies I had.
This is the fourth night in a row I’ve spent at Jackson’s apartment – actually at the order of my parents, if you can believe that – because I stay mostly sane and mostly non-suicidal when I’m around Jackson. My heart hurts a little bit less, because I know that I’m not alone, that Jackson won’t and can’t leave me like Luke did, and I even think about trying to regain my life and find some purpose for living around him.
Unfortunately, being with him like this feels like a lie, because I know I don’t and won’t ever be able to feel the way about him that he does about me. However, I also can’t bring myself to tell him this, and truly cut myself off from everyone, because being incredibly lonely is much worse than faking a relationship.
“Good morning,” he murmurs quietly as he gently kisses the back of my neck. When I don’t respond, because I’m so filled with a desire for Luke that I can’t even breathe, Jackson sits up and looks down at me concernedly as he asks, “You thought I was Luke, huh?”
“Yeah,” I whsiper in reply, my throat being blocked off by my bleeding heart.
A few moments go by in silence, neither one of us knowing what to do or say, until Jackson breaks the quiet by gently rolling me over so that I’m facing him and telling me sincerely, “I may not be Luke, but, so help me God, I will do everything I can to help you and make this less painful on you if you’ll just give me a chance. You have to let me in for that to happen though, because I can’t help you if you always shut me out.”
“Jackson,” I begin quietly, my voice cracking as I’m overwhelmed with pain and sadness, “I can’t, not after Luke. He’s the only person I ever truly loved and let close to me, and now he’s dead.” I almost spit the last word, because it’s my fault that he’s dead, but manage to keep the anger and self-loathing I feel at bay and continue, “I won’t do that again, especially not to you.”
“Lizzie, I’m not as breakable as Luke was,” Jackson reminds me gently. “I can take whatever happens and survive it all too.” He pauses for a moment before finishing, “And I would too, for you.”
“Jackson,” I start, swallowing with difficulty, “I don’t need or want you. I need Luke, and you’ll never be him.”
“Lizzie, you loved me before you loved Luke, remember?” Jackson’s tone is desperate and pleading now. “You could learn to love me again.”
“No, Jackson, I can’t!” I exclaim, hesitating for a moment to give myself time to organize my thoughts. “Luke changed me so much, so much that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to love another person the way I loved him. Besides,” I add, “there’s always that word of advice about what to do when you fall in love with two people.”
“Lizzie, if everyone followed that, the world would be a much different place,” Jackson tells me urgently, but I brush right past him.
“And I’m not going to make that same mistake,” I respond, rising to my feet agilely and crossing the room to stand by the door.
I place a hand on the doorknob and am just about to leave when Jackson calls out to me, “Lizzie, please!” I turn around to meet his gaze and have him tell me, “I know I’m not Luke – I know I’m not anywhere close to being Luke, in fact – but just give me a chance, and let me show you that I can make you happy, even if I’m not him.”
“Jackson, I could give you all the chances in the world, and it wouldn’t make a difference,” I reply. “I don’t need or want your fire of hatred and anger, Jackson. If I wanted more fire, I’d be the spark and burn myself again.” I pause for half a second before adding, “In fact, I don’t know how I could have ever thought I wanted you, when you’re so not right for me.” I turn back around to face the door and stare at the textured wood for a moment before turning around one last time and telling Jackson sincerely, “I’m sorry.”
I then exit without another word, and it’s at that moment that I truly fall out of love with and let go of Jackson Lucas Carter. (from Triple Crown)
Is still very good friends with Jackson because a part of her never stopped caring for him as a friend
Thalamon -
See here
Never saw Thalamon again (he passed away) after leaving him the first time and her last knowledge of him is that he painted a mural of her on the wall of his palace as a sort of dedication to the way she broke his heart
Marshall/Marcus -
See here
Both deceased
Sam Turgon -
“So how are you doing, truthfully?” Sam questions, leaning towards me and meeting my gaze concernedly. You know, for all that Forrest is beautiful, Sam is even more stunning, with his bi-colored brown eyes that are composed of a ring of brown so dark it's almost black around his pupils and another ring of amber to make up the rest of the iris.
“Truthfully, it feels like there are termites eating my heart from the inside out.” I hug my chest tightly, as if I can hold myself together and prevent myself from coming undone.
“It'll get better, Lizzie. Luke'll come around,” he assures me quietly, placing a gentle hand on my arm, and I nod, if only to humor him, before scooting closer to him and resting my head on his shoulder. Immediately his arm wraps around my shoulders, holding me to him and speeding up the process of his body heat seeping into me, and I curl up tightly against him, drawing my knees up to my chin and staring off into space somewhere in the general direction of the coffee table.
“You know, Sam, I don't think I've ever loved you more,” I tell him quietly, and he shifts so that he can look at me. I can feel his eyes on me, attempting to read what I mean by that, and eventually he gives up trying to figure it out himself and just asks me.
“How so?” His voice is a gentle, lulling murmur in my ear, and the tenderness I feel for him grows every second I am around him, every moment I hear him speak, every time I come into contact with him, the least broken of my broken boys. When I'm with him, I can pretend like Luke and Forrest never happened; Sam helps me forget all the tragedy in my life. Being around him, someone who will love me eternally but is perfectly content to be my best friend for the rest of my life, helps me to put out of my mind those boys I care far too much about and therefore hurt.
“You're safe,” I tell him quietly and truthfully. “I can be with you and not have to worry about your feelings for me or my feelings for you. When I'm with you, Luke seems a little more distant, my problems a little smaller, because you're solid and steady and totally and completely safe and so I can pretend everything isn't half as bad as it is. And that's why I love you, Sam Turgon. I love you a whole hell of a lot for that.”
I feel Sam smile, and I lean into his lips when I feel them on my temple. He gently brushes hair away from the side of my face, and he regards me for a long moment before leaning in and kissing me on the cheek too. “Well, I'm glad to have captured at least the smallest fraction of your heart,” he finally says quietly, and I shake my head at him.
“Sam, you've captured a lot more than that. You and I both know that,” I half-whisper to him, and, a second later, I reluctantly pull back to gaze over at him and say, “I'm tired. Could we go to bed now?”
“Of course,” he tells me with a smile as gentle as his words, and he gets up from the sofa to bend down and heft me in his arms before I can make a move to stand up myself, and I don't fight it. For once, I'm glad to have someone take care of me and be by me always and never leave my side, and I rest my head on his chest as he carries me upstairs to his bedroom.
Gently he deposits me on the bed, and I peel the comforter back and slip under the sheets as he strips his shirt off – he prefers to sleep without a shirt on, no matter what temperature it is in the room. He climbs in next to me a moment later, and I snuggle up to him, resting my head on the pillow next to his and placing my hands against his chest, feeling the layers of muscle underneath his soft, smooth, naturally hot skin.
If this were any other man but Sam, my mind would be buzzing with thoughts of whether or not any other articles of clothing of his or mine would come off tonight and what I should do if he wants to have sex and I don't or I want to have sex and he doesn't and what we'll do the morning after. But it's just Sam, my Sam, and so I can just sleep.
“Goodnight, Lizzie,” Sam murmurs in my ear after shifting once more to hold me closer, and a faint smile crosses my face when I feel his lips on my forehead. He is just Sam, just so totally safe, that I find myself more peaceful when I'm around him.
“Goodnight, Sam,” I echo in return, and I close my eyes a moment after, the last image in my mind before I drift off Sam looking down at me with a soft, loving smile on his face.
For the first time in a month, no dreams of Abby or Timmy come and haunt me and I sleep through the night. (from Marked)

“I’m sure you’re still incredibly fast, Lizzie,” Sam replies with a smile that reaches his eyes and makes the burning passion in them – that only exists in his eyes when he looks at me, because I’m the only one he ever has, ever does and ever will feel that kind of passion for – look even more attractive, as I can’t lie, Sam is very attractive, probably more physically attractive than Luke. Sam is tall and muscular – he’s six feet, six inches and two hundred and twenty pounds of solid muscle – and a shade of tan that compliments his eyes and hair perfectly. He has absolutely perfect straight and white teeth as well and, to top it all off, he has one of the most truly attractive faces I have ever seen, his eyes just completing the whole look. He is also incredibly intelligent and a very nice guy, to top it all off, and he happens to be completely devoted to me with his entire existence too, so I don’t think I could do much better than him, outside of Luke, of course. I guess the only issue with Sam – and it’s an issue that made him originally hate himself in the moment he fell in love with me – is that he is twenty-four, or six years and three hundred and sixty-two days older than I am. However, when we’re both one thousand years old – if we both make it to one thousand, because I’m not so sure I’ll really want to go on living after Luke dies in sixty or seventy years – that age gap won’t matter very much, so I might end up with Sam at some point. I feel like I almost owe it to him to end up with him at some point, considering that he has devoted his whole life to me and will never look at, much less love, another woman ever again, so it would be rather cruel if he were denied romantic love for his whole life. It wouldn’t really be my fault if he was though – I mean, I definitely didn’t ask for him to fall in love with me; in fact, I broke his jaw (although it healed up right away afterwards because of his immortal body’s ability to heal itself, and I broke my hand in the process) when he told me that he had fallen in love me with me – but I still would feel very bad for him if he just spent the rest of his life following me around and never getting to experience romantic love like he should. (from Lizzie-saves-Luke-untitled)
See here
Is best friends with and will eventually have one child with (because of Luke's initially being sterile) and then marry (after Luke's passing) Sam
Forrest -
After a moment of silence, in which time Forrest watches me and I think about my children, I suddenly realize that so far all we have talked about is me, despite the fact that I am but one-half of the people in our conversation. “Enough about me,” I announce, bringing the topic of my life to a close. “What about yourself, Forrest? What have you done since our last meeting?”
“Not much of anything but reluctantly be President of the United States of America,” he responds, and I raise an eyebrow.
“Reluctantly?”
“I have tried numerous times to quit and abdicate the position to someone more suited and better for the job, but every time the people of this country have risen up and made it very clear that, if I succeeded in leaving, they would storm my residence and forcefully install me as President if necessary,” he explains, and a smile comes across my face at his humility and at how much the people love him. He truly is the best President the United States, in any form, has ever had.
“Do you perhaps have a wife and/or children to occupy you on your almost-nonexistent downtime?” I question, and he shakes his head, his eyes becoming sad.
“No, no wife or children. I decided it was best to let the Forrester line die with me, lest I inadvertently create a copy of my father.” His mouth tightens at the thought of that, and I can't blame him; even after thirty-five years, he is still running around cleaning up his father's messes and giving the people the power his father stole from them. “Besides, the only woman I would ever want to marry and have children with I met when I was eighteen, and for some reason I haven't been able to forget her ever since.” He looks over at me, and the continued love in his voice hurts my heart some.
I can come up with no reply to that, so we simply sit in silence for a few seconds before Forrest meets my gaze and says, “You know, you have changed greatly from the dangerous, violent, pain-in-the-ass teenager with a tendency towards martyrdom who I fell in love with so long ago, but I still find myself loving you, because I know that you are still that teenager, just a grown-up version of her. However, in light of all of your other changes, I can't help but wonder if you still go by Lizzie.”
“Of course I do. I have not changed that much, my dear Mr. Forrester,” I tell him with a laugh, despite the fact that his other words are painfully true and we both know it.
We are overtaken by quiet again until Forrest looks over at me and asks the question that has undoubtedly been gnawing at him the whole time I have been in his dimension. “Lizzie, why are you here?”
His eyes are locked on mine and he knows me well enough to be able to tell when I am lying from simply seeing my eyes, so I know that I have no choice but to tell the truth. However, I never planned on being dishonest with Forrest anyways; I got that all out of my system two thousand, nine hundred and ninety-four years ago.
“To let you know that, no matter how many years have passed between one visit and the next, I have not forgotten you, and that I never will.” I pause for a moment before continuing, “You know, a friend of mine believes that there is no such thing as falling out of love with someone; once you give part of your heart to someone, it is theirs for the rest of eternity, and, in my case, he is completely correct. I loved you as much as I could from the moment I first broke into your kitchen window and tackled you, and I still love you, James Matthew Forrester. I know that it does no practical good to tell you this now, after so many years have passed and I am married again, but I thought you would like to know that your feelings never were unreciprocated, no matter what I told you back then.”
Forrest lets out a long breath I don't think he was aware he was holding as he gazes over at me, and, as I watch him, I am struck by how well he has aged. There are wings of white at his temples, and he has a few wrinkles, but he has grown into his years and he is still an incredibly attractive man, his eyes shining as bright as they always have. “Is this... is this a sort of goodbye, then?” he finally asks, meeting my gaze and again forcing me to be truthful. “Is this the last time we will ever see each other?”
“Ever is a very long time, Forrest,” I tell him quietly, returning his stare evenly and solemnly. After a moment, I rise to my feet and bend over to give him a kiss on the cheek, his scent filling my nose one last time.
“Regardless of where time takes us and regardless of whether or not we will meet again, I wish you safe passage on the never-ending road. Goodbye for now, James Matthew Forrester.” I give him one last look, just as I did the first time I uttered those words, and smile before turning away, opening a gateway and leaving, satisfied that, if I have just left him for all eternity, at least I gave both of us closure before doing so.

I stare after the spot she walked out of my life again from for a few moments after she's gone, and, when I am finally able to look away, I gaze down at the grass underneath my feet, my mind distant, my heart aching and my throat hurting from holding back tears.
I can't believe she's gone. I can't believe she came back just to leave like that, I keep on thinking to myself until I recognize the words for lies, until I acknowledge that I knew, as soon as I saw that she had come back, that she was not going to stay. Hell, I knew that she wasn't going to stay from the very first moment I laid eyes on her, but that didn't stop me from loving her all the same.
Finally I look back up at the spot where her gateway was and murmur, “Goodbye, Elizabeth Eleanor Marie Gates,” before turning heel and walking back up to my office, finally coming to accept the fact that, while she would never be mine and while I would never see her again, I would always love her. (from Marked)
Kuro -
. I am drawn to what I am not and never will be, as inexorably and inexplicably and self-destructively as moths flock to their flames, but I suppose that I am not alone in that. After all, even Lucifer loved God – or so says Milton, anyway.” He stares over at me with eyes full of more torment than I could have ever imagined he would ever know, and he appears supremely broken himself as he finishes quietly, “Such a fact explains how I feel about you.”
As much as I'd like to be unaffected by his words, I find my breath catching in my throat, and I have to battle my surprise for a moment to regain the ability to speak. “I... I'm not good,” I tell him, but my voice is made quiet by my shock and so my reply is rather weak.
“You see, Miss Lightning, that is one of the qualities that you possess that separates you even from other living martyrs: as damaged as they may be, they all still have a general unfailing faith in their own goodness and the virtue of their actions of martyrdom. You, however, have the opposite: you are the almost proud owner of an unwavering belief in your own cowardice and weakness and general moral depravity.” His stare is knowingly sorrowful as he looks over at me, and I can't help but hate that look in his eyes, that combination of sympathy and sadness for my plight, as if he could ever understand what I've gone through and still struggle with in the ghosts that haunt me everywhere I turn, and superior knowledge of my opinion of myself, like he knows that I'm not what I say I am and I'm wrong in my assessment of myself, despite how much more I know about myself than he does.
“If I were truly good, Kuro-” – my voice is make tight by anger at his assumed greater understanding of me; he knows truly nothing about who and what I really am and he never will, if I can help it – “-I would be dead.” I hold his gaze almost fiercely as I end, and he regards me with that infuriating sad knowing in his eyes for a long moment before he finally just shakes his head and sighs deeply in a way that just angers me even more.
“You just don't understand, Lizzie, all that you have done-” he begins, and that's all I let him get out before I can't hold my tongue anymore and the words start pouring out of me.
“No, you don't understand.” The emphatic quality of my words surprises him into silence, and I hold his gaze with a certain ferocity at the defense of my own moral inferiority as I continue, “You have no ------- clue what you're talking about, Kuro. You say that I'm so goddamned good and heroic and decent, but where's your proof? How the ---- do you figure I'm anything but the awful coward I know myself to be? Because I have proof of my own atrocity in the form of an eleven-year-old girl who died in my arms while I was useless to do anything but sing her to death and all of the people who gave their lives for me and my causes – which I really never even personified, by the way – and the pain and longing on Sam's face that he tries his damnedest to hide but that I can see that much more clearly every time I look over at him and the burn scars that cover Luke's body and that are as surely my fault as if I had taken a blowtorch to him and...”
I surprise and anger myself descending into tears for a moment here, and I wipe my eyes in irritation at myself and my weakness as I take a second to collect myself and then finish, “So let me say it again: if I were truly good, I would be dead right now.”
Kuro contemplates me for what feels like a miniature eternity of silence, his mouth pursed, brow furrowed and eyes darkened with sadness, and when he speaks again the sorrow I hear in his voice makes his truly sound all 8,680 years of his age.
“And you see, Miss Lightning, it is precisely because you are so utterly convinced of your own awfulness that you are so truly good.” I open my mouth to protest, even though I'm not quite sure what I would even say – I wasn't expecting him to say something like that – but he doesn't allow me to speak, as he continues before I can interrupt, “Your all-encompassing belief that you are a bad person tells me that you would undoubtedly think yourself atrocious even if you had saved Abby and Luke hadn't been burned alive with you and the fate that you had received was happier than the one you currently have, because then you would blame yourself for the people who died fighting against El Nieve or the other children who perished in the Triple Crown or some other loss of life that occurred during the process of the revolution that you started and led that you truly couldn't have helped in any other way besides not fighting against El Nieve, and if you had done that you would loathe yourself for your cowardice.” He pauses for a moment, looking over at me expectantly, and after a moment of holding his stare fiercely I am forced by the truth of his statements to lower my eyes grudgingly, at which point, his victory secured, he keeps talking. “Nothing you ever do will be good enough for you, Lizzie – you could save the world without losing a single life in the process and I'm sure you'd still hold over your own head the fact that you stepped on someone's toe along the way – and so you will never be good enough for you, and that is why you are so inherently decent: you will never settle or truly accept anything that you perceive as negative or detrimental in the slightest, and since the world is full of so many bad things you will never stop pushing and working for better. That is also very possible very destructive, as you may never be able to find peace or fulfillment within yourself, but it is your nature and so I suppose that you will just have to find some way to live with such a fact – or die with it, as the case may be.”
His eyes are full of an interminably ancient sorrow as he regards me, and his voice is similarly aching as he murmurs, “Your entire family is like that in one way or another. Not your mother, so much, as she is not a Lightning, but most certainly your father, as his duties as my counterpart compel him to never settle for things to be as good as they are, and your brothers, in how both the knowledge and love that they possess is not enough for them because it is not of the sort that would truly free them from their inner struggles. And of course you, my dear Miss Lightning, will never be truly content with the good that you do because you cannot accept in your heart that there are consequences to every choice, even morally right ones, and that you cannot help some of what occurs because of the decent choices that you make. With the amount of power that you possess and the sort of decisions that it compels you to make, there will always be someone getting hurt no matter what you do, and you cannot find it in yourself to be content with the fact that you have spared the majority pain. You can't save them all, Lizzie, but you hate yourself for that one lost almost as powerfully as you would if you had lost them all because you cannot come to terms with the fact that not even you and all of the incredible and wonderful things that you can do can control everything and rescue everyone and have a perfectly happy ending. You can't do it all, yet you just cannot accept that such a fact applies to you, with all that you can do.”
His gaze is distant and full of a sadness that seems to predate even consciousness, a primordial ache in the chest that stems from a sensation of wrongness that we as living beings knew even before we knew of ourselves, as he finishes quietly, “Such a quality is both your greatest treasure as well as possibly, I fear, your hamartia.”
Despises but is also rather subconsciously drawn to Kuro, and as such their relationship is a particularly interesting one
Luke -
See here and here and here and here
Will love Luke with the entirety of her being until the day her consciousness ceases to exist because he will forever be her boy with the sky-blue eyes; he and what happened to him is also one of the major faults that she holds over her own head and loathes herself for
Possible Ships (my personal ships): Lizzie-Jackson, Lizzie-Sam, Lizzie-Kuro, Lizzie-Luke
Children: Will have three - Xavier Marshall (oldest/eighteen for reference), Selena Marie (year younger/seventeen) and Timothy John (three years younger/fifteen)
Favorites: Color - sky-blue (like Luke's eyes); food - smoked salmon; book - Cloud Atlas by David Mitchell; quote - "Don't let 'em say I killed myself for love, Sixsmith; that would be too ridiculous. Was infatuated by Eva Crommelnyck for the blink of an eye, but we both know in our hearts who is the sole love of my short, bright life." (from Cloud Atlas)
Will probably add more at some point, but for now, as an end note, Lizzie is the character that, of all of the people running around inside of my head, is the closest to me, an alter-ego of sorts for me, if you will

[Ineedatribal]

Locked Doors....................................Penelope......................................Shut Windows

Heaven is perfect, heaven is wonderful.
Or at least that's what Penelope was always told.
But even in heaven there are things to be hidden.
Even in heaven everyone cannot be trusted.
Even in heaven there are locked doors and shut windows, with secrets behind every one.
And even in heaven, those locked doors and shut windows and the secrets they hide
Can mean death.

Part I:

Death really wasn't painful, Penelope reflected. One sharp burst, and it was over; her pride had been more hurt than her physical body because she had died in disgrace, a hated outcast. But in heaven, everyone was beautiful, everyone was perfect, everyone was the same. There was no conflict, because everyone knew everything about everyone, so their were no secrets. Or so Penelope thought.

She longed to take her mask off, as it just felt wrong, but her fear of the punishment - being cast out from heaven, never to return - was greater than her urge to rip the thing off her face. Taking a deep breath, she lowered her pink eyes and kept her gaze well away from anyone else's; in heaven people could read each other's minds with just one second of eye contact and thinking about breaking the Holy Rules was just as bad, with the same consequences, as actually disobeying them. It was interesting, she thought, that structure and rules - the same things that caused so many problems and so much restriction on Earth - were used to make everyone free in heaven. But she was just a lowly angel, one of millions, not fit to think about such things as the many paradoxes of heaven, and it was treason against the most holy and perfect Lord God himself if one were to think about such things. And there was another contradiction - you knew everything but were only allowed to think about certain things. Everywhere she turned hypocrisy was blatant, but she was the only one that seemed to know or care. Perhaps that was because she was, like always, an outsider, different, this time shunned for thinking about the unthinkable. It was the story of her life- and now apparently her death.

The first whisper she had heard in almost a thousand years tickled her ears and pulled at her curiosity, drawing her towards its source. The thought that eavesdropping probably wasn't smiled upon crept into her mind as she stood silently with her ear pressed against the door; however, the idea that heaven was based upon unity and all-knowing was being violated merely by the closed door, so she figured that her sin could be excused in the wake of the huge one she had discovered.

"We will die if we are caught!" a sharp voice murmured, and Penelope instantly knew who it was: Laviticus, the Most Noble and Righteous Chief of the Elders Council.
"No stupid angel is going to find us out; they still think heaven is perfect!" the sly, intelligent Marcus, the Most Noble and Righteous Overseer of Justice, shot back, and she could picture in her mind exactly what he looked like, the vivid image of his stunningly handsome, almost cruel, mask-hidden face filling her mind. Gritting her teeth slightly at the insult against her and all of her fellows, she resolved that she would listen to the best of her ability in the name of the justice of heaven. Although, with the Overseer of Justice being involved in the scandal, she didn't know who would deal out his punishment.
"Now, what we have to do is find some way to get rid of that old fool Aurelius..."

Penelope's eyes widened in horror as she listened to their plan; they were going to try to murder His Holiness Aurelius, King of the Angels, and then claim themselves Princes of the Angels in his place.
"Such treachery must be stopped!" she murmured to herself, then floated off silently to go expose their wrongdoing to all of heaven.

Part II:

"I am not lying!" Penelope's throat burned like fire from lack of water and her voice was low and cracked due to overuse, but she knew that to become silent would mean her death.
"You must be, because the Most Noble and Righteous Overseer of Justice and the Most Noble and Righteous Chief of the Elders Council could not be involved in such a scandal! You should know that telling such a defamatory lie, especially one involving two of the most important angels in heaven, means-"
"Execution; yeah, I know." Penelope affixed her questioner with a stunning magenta that had wooed many a man during her mortal life; generally she was discouraged from looking anyone directly in the eye due to the fact that her irises were so much prettier than what was normal and therefore acceptable, but she figured that, considering the situation she was in, her eye color was the least of her worries. "I am not crazy, and I am not lying. After all, would I tell a lie that would kill me?" She managed to keep her voice calm and level, even though the inner turmoil she was experiencing was equal to being thrown in a hurricane.
"No, I suppose not." Her questioner seemed sobered by her cool words, or perhaps just was taken with her sheer beauty; Penelope didn't care which it was, since he had shut up finally. "But, but... then everything we've been told about heaven being perfect is a lie!"
Now it was her turn to be stunned. "Yes, I guess so," were the only words she could muster. As her brain began to process the enormity of the lie they had been told, she murmured out loud, "Well, doesn't that mean that heaven doesn't exist? Because heaven is perfection, and if there isn't any perfection, then how can there be heaven?"
"I... I don't know. I don't know anything anymore." His voice dwindled into nothing, and she almost felt sad for him, even though a moment before he had been threatening her with death.
"I don't think anyone does, so you're in lots of company, even if it isn't so good." His mouth twitched involuntarily at her comment, and Penelope gave him a small smile.
"Too true," he agreed. "Well, you might as well go." He gestured towards the perfectly white door and she rose from her seat gracefully. Just as she was about to exit, she paused and turned, saying to him with all of the sincerity in her heart, "Thank you."

"Heaven is just an illusion, and so is perfection," Penelope murmured to herself, not angry but resigned to the fact. "What is this place, then, if it isn't heaven?" The landscape around her was stunningly beautiful but eerily silent; surely a real heaven would be full of life, not of lies. "It it perhaps hell in disguise? Or is it maybe still Earth, and my death and all the time I've spent here are just illusions as well?" The thoughts chased each other around in her head like an eternal game of cat and mouse, giving her an unbearable migraine. Falling to her knees, she brought her hands clumsily up to her temples, attempting to stop the pain that was making her see double.
"What is happening?" she asked aloud of the wilderness around. Her question remained unanswered as she collasped, unconscious.

A story I did for the CS Pet Pairs thread. Should I continue?

I noticed this story in the Pet pairs thread! I think its amazing! ^^ You should continue.

[Tabuu]

Amazing <3 You should defiantly continue. One question, though: how can you be executed if your already dead?

[Sonmi-451]

Well, you can be in heaven and then be executed and then be completely dead with no other afterlife to move on to, or at least that's the theory I made up for the story. XD And thanks Ineedaballoondog.

[Aeli]

Could you please make a story about a clown? I don't know what else to say, I just think that that would be interesting. X3

[Mercess]

Pet's name: Three (Male)


Pet's name: Hallow (female)

Could you do a story for this couple?

[Sonmi-451]

Full name: Aellamina Eragon (Aellamina = 'Lightsouled' in Jayme Bellor, the Tongue of the Dead and native language of the Underworld)
Description: "He stole a glance at her to find that the moonlight only made her lovelier: with intense golden eyes fixed straight ahead, long brown hair that fell in waves to well beyond her shoulders, deeply tanned skin a rich light brown and an aura of power about her that spoke of blood she did not wish for, all bathed in the silver glow of the moon, she looked like a goddess, ready to rule the world with immense power and charm and beauty. In fact, he realized with a start as he noticed the set of her mouth, the almost sad determination of her eyes, she looked like her mother, the real goddess." (from Min-Ekan-untitled)
"She's stunningly beautiful, just as attractive and right around the same age as Lizzie – she, like Lizzie, could pass for twenty-one easily, maybe even twenty-five, but is probably only around eighteen or nineteen – but in a totally different manner from Lizzie. Instead of being blonde with electrifying eyes, she has medium-brown hair about the same length as Cassandra's, golden eyes that are more the color of the moon on a cloudless night than of a lightning bolt, skin that is a little naturally darker than Lizzie's, and white smile in the middle of her nearly-perfect face that is made all the more striking by its contrast with her darker features." (from untitled short story)
Physical Qualities/Background Info: 5'11"; 150ish lbs; born 7/25/95; attends Arizona State University as a pre-med; has a prophecy hanging over her head dooming her to be essentially the world's fail-safe by destroying the universe if it is ever overrun by evil ("The one with soul of light/shall rise up from the ashes/and save the world from its plight/by channeling the light of the world/and sacrificing her life/so that evil and goodness may never cause strife again")
Family/Lineage: Father is Doro Ayune ('New Moon' in Common Tongue/English), one-thousand-year-old Prince of the Underworld and direct heir to the throne; mother is Aurora Borealis, four-point-three-billion-year-old goddess of balance and Queen of the Northern Lights; grandmother (on father's side) is Doro Mise ('Crescent Moon' in Common Tongue/English), Queen of the Underworld; grandfather (on father's side) is Fenris Eragon, High King of the Underworld; siblings are Maugrin ('Warrior' in Common Tongue/English - chosen human name Evan) and Doro Kalepe ('Black Moon' in Common Tongue/English - chosen human name Troy) - the three are triplets with Min being the oldest by 20 minutes and with Troy being the youngest
Romantic Interests: Ekan -
He opened his eyes to the sort of leisurely feeling that only existed on a Saturday morning and a concentrated warmth next to him, and a smile crossed his face as he rolled over to face his princess. As he realized exactly how naked both of them were, a part of him began to regret what they had done last night, but that part – for better or for worse – was very small indeed, and the vast majority of him was simply giddy with happiness at how his relationship with Min had progressed – for, no matter how little he had wanted to admit it before, he had always wanted this to happen to see that Min cared enough about him to go to bed with him.
“Good morning,” he murmured when he felt her move against him, and a moment later she opened her eyes to meet his gaze sleepily, the cobwebs of dreams still clouding her golden stare.
However, after a few seconds, as her incredibly-intelligent mind began to function at its top level again, her eyes became sharp and he found himself watching her carefully, almost obsessively, to see what her reaction to last night would be. After a moment, she averted her gaze to curl up against him and bury her head in his chest as she echoed quietly, “Good morning,” but not before he could see the almost horrified realization change to sadness in her gaze and feel the response like a punch in the stomach.
“Min, what is it?” he questioned quietly, drawing her eyes back up to his almost unwillingly, and he found himself thinking that he would much rather just have her tell him the truth right now and break his heart all at once instead of crumbling little pieces off one at a time and just prolonging his agony.
“Ekan, last night was wonderful,” she began, and he could hear the sincerity in her tone as well as the 'but'. “I couldn't have asked for a better time or way or person to go to bed with for the first time.” She took a deep breath, undoubtedly to steel herself – it was a small comfort for him to see that this wasn't easy for her either – before continuing, “But I realized right after we... finished last night that it didn't feel right, that I wasn't supposed to do that with you, that I... that I don't love you like that, in the way that I would feel comfortable having sex with you.”
Her terribly truthful addition of, “I'm sorry,” at the end just seemed to make his agony even more acute, and he found himself almost unconsciously simultaneously pushing her away and scooting away from her to put the space between them that now seemed appropriate.
“Min...” Her name was like an exhalation of breath, a combination of a sigh of longing and a half-sob of sadness and a gasp forced out by the weariness at having worst fears come true. He almost wished she'd say something else, just to break the silence, but she just lay there staring over at him with sorrow and – much, much worse – self-loathing in her eyes, and it was upon registering that emotion in his princess's gaze that he finally found his tongue again. “Min, don't blame yourself for this, for not loving me. The heart works in mysterious ways, after all, and I don't blame you for not loving me, so don't hate yourself for how you feel, for something you can't help any more than you can help anything else in your heart.”
“Ekan, it's just... you're the best I'm ever going to do,” she murmured as she met his gaze, and his heart ached even more acutely as he saw the genuine desperation in her eyes. “I want so desperately to like you like that, to have that spark of romance with you, but it's just not there, and I just don't love you like that, Ekan. For both of our sakes, I'm sorry.”
The weight of the emotion of her last words – he could feel the sincerity of her contriteness as he stared over at her, and he could sense that it wasn't just for him, either; she was apologizing to herself for letting him get away – hung in the air for a few long moments before he dared to break the heavy silence.
“Min, don't apologize,” he told her gently, not having the energy to speak with the anger that part of him felt; a part of him – the same part of him that was a conniving, perverted bastard, but unfortunately a part of him all the same – really did blame her for not loving him, after all of the effort that he had put forth to make her care for him in that way, after he had made it very obvious that she really wasn't going to do better than him. That part of him almost felt like she owed it to him to love him like he deserved, even thought he knew that loving someone because you owed them that was not a reason for love at all. “I know that you wish you could love me, and that is some comfort, but I don't want to hear about your contriteness; trust me, I know of its existence enough already.”
He hated the emotions his words conjured up in his princess's eyes – such a beautiful gaze didn't deserve to be the home of such ugly feelings such as self-loathing and sorrow and a desperate remorse – but he couldn't help his tired, weary tone; that was but how he felt at the moment, for it seemed as if his heart had been steamrolled over by her reaction to their night together. He supposed that, in the back of his mind, it always occurred to him that she could respond like that, that it was possible for her to realize that she didn't love him romantically, but he had been so caught up in the fact that he was living the fantasy of being in a romantic relationship with his princess that he had never really given the possibility much thought; in his delusions, he and Min were already picking out baby names.
“Ekan, I still love you like I always have, like a best friend, but I just... something like this isn't going to work out between us,” she told him, and he nodded slowly as he sighed deeply, feeling far more overwhelmingly exhausted than anything else.
“Well, not seeing you at all is so much worse than not seeing you with me, so I would still like to be your best friend, if that is possible,” he finally said, giving her the biggest smile he could summon up, and he found himself almost consumed by guilt as saw how she reacted to his words almost like she had been punched in the gut, and he sighed as he realized why that was: he had been honest with her about how he felt, about how he loved her, and in doing so he had reminded her of how she didn't feel the same way, when she felt that she should.
“So let's just go back to being princess and guardian again,” Min suggested, and he nodded his consent; after all, what else could they become now?
He climbed out of bed and dressed almost mechanically here, shrugging on his clothes with the robotic speed and efficiency that overtook him when his mind was otherwise occupied, yet he couldn't help but feel her interminably sad and remorseful gaze on his back the whole time.
After a little while of silence, he found himself dressed – although he was sure his entire appearance was rumpled, disheveled and weary – and he had just reached the door of her bedroom after slipping on his shoes and socks when her voice stopped him and, as he turned back around the face her, part of him irrationally but desperately hoped that she was going to change her mind and tell him that she did want him and maybe even invite him back to bed.
But her eyes were still sad and regretful as he met them again, and she told him quietly as she watched him with a sorrow that seemed far more ancient than the one even he felt, “Even though this didn't work out between us, I'm glad it was you I slept with for the first time.”
He gave her a wan half-smile that he knew had to be absolutely fake – he could just feel the falseness in it as it sat on his lips – and held her gaze for a moment longer before tearing away and walking out of her quarters slowly, part of his mind abstractedly wondering what Alyra would make of all of this. (from Min-Ekan-untitled)
Jackson -
Currently a work in progress; see here for a rather outdated hint of them - Min will end up marrying him
Children: Will have two - Alyra Elizabeth and Lucas Ekan
Favorites: Color - midnight blue (the color of the sky at twilight); food - spaghetti; book - The Road by Cormac McCarthy; quote - "He rose and stood tottering in that cold autistic dark with his arms outheld for balance while vestibular calculations in his skull cranked out their reckonings. An old chronicle. To seek out the upright. No fall but preceded by a declination. He took great marching steps into the nothingness, counting them against his return. Eyes closed, arms oaring. Upright to what? Something nameless in the night, lode or matrix. To which he and the stars were common satellite. Like the great pendulum in its rotunda scribing through the long day movements of the universe of which you may say it knows nothing and yet know it must." (from The Road)

[sparkle.+bballmta]

Yes Yes Yes YES!!!!!!! They are so good!