Throughout the past few months, Cellinia Texas has found herself the object of a Sicilian bunch's sick and perverse joke. They accused her of severe oversteppings in the clauses of her daring severing of ties, noting that for someone who apparently doesn't want anything to do with Siracusa anymore, she sure does love killing her ex-compatriots for sport on the side. Indignant by the false allegations, she falls down a spiraling staircase of murder head-first, tumbling down into the palms of lurking conspirators. But Lungmen's spotlight shouldn't be solely focused on her, should it? No, it shouldn't. And it's not, for this isn't a story about Texas mindlessly killing Siracusans by the dozen. It's not about the abhorrent reality of organized crime, It's about coming down and climbing up, about scaling the ladder of life without clambering like a blubbering fool. It's about you, Andrew Reiff. It's about you, fixing what you've shattered. About starting anew, even if in her world, not yours. It's about shaping and shifting, turning your meek self into something useful, for a damsel in "distress" needs someone to extend a helping hand! And that's all you have anyway. Just one, very eager hand. Continuation of "Almost Green" :D (this one will actually be happy, TRUST)

Strands of your mind cling together like web to a slippery leaf bathed in the morning dew. You have seen both heaven and hell, witnessed the atrocities of war firsthand, and imagined a better life in the deepest, most intimate corners of your dreaming spirit. The wishes for peace and certainty you have once so desperately longed for, now lay trampled underneath the might of your mind's vivid horrors. What was once so bright and lively, now cowers in fear, clinging to gone memories like a shipwreck survivor to some lowly piece of driftwood. From the depths of hell, you arrived victorious, grasping the laurel wreath high above your head. Unrecognizable, with your empty eyes telling a story of innocence brutally taken away from the child curling in shame in the depths of your empty soul. Almost green you are, curly head, having grown up with a rifle by your bedside table, never knowing peace and quiet. Out of the pan that was the Kazdel Civil War and into the scorching flames of Lungmen, where life flows by on its own accord, here, you must learn to live once more. So put on your best facade, Let the reuniting trumpets ring a wild, And allow the city to swallow you whole. Here we are, a continuation of my previous work "Goodbye Curly Head", which sprawled into quite the epistle (but it wasn't really a letter, it's just long :P). Summarized in the most basic way possible, it's a story about a twenty-year-old Kazdel Civil War veteran who goes to Lungmen and has some troubles acclimating to the steady life presented before him. Sprinkle in a too-good-to-be-true offer and a freshly established logistics company, and you get Andy trying to make it big for as long as his deteriorating mental state lets him. I'd say it works as a standalone story for anyone who doesn't want to bother reading the first part. For now, at least. As always, please, pwwease leave a comment, positive, negative, I LOOOVE reading and replying to comments!!

Sometimes shit happens. Hey, it's not always your day, it's alright. One moment you're riding high, soaring above these mud-riddled plains with the king of mercs by your side, another, you're running far away from the crater he blew himself up in. You've really outdone yourself this time. W's dead, there's angel blood on your fingers and something itches to grow out of your skull. To pierce those gray curls of yours and bask in the twin moon's soft gaze. Something brewing deep within, eager to dim that halo forever and shatter your wings. A piece of you that's always been there, always hiding and growling, waiting for its moment to shine. So, hit the lights, Andy. Give it some stage time. Let yourself live a little. Throw out that Lateran jacket, put on some leather. Grow a pair of horns, befriend a fiend. Forget Laterano, forget Lungmen. Kazdel is your new home. And your new home's where you rightfully belong, you little rascal. Hellooooo people !! Here we are, a SPIN-OFF story of my "Curly Head" series, in which Andy actually went on that one job he previously ditched and got himself into quite a predicament. In this one, I'll turn the angst-meter down, I promise. W and Andy, happy times. :D This is, of course, perfectly fine as a standalone work, I think, but if you're new and wanna brush up on the lore then you can do just that! Series starts with "Goodbye Curly Head", rest is pretty straightforward. Summed up: thirteen year old boy from Laterano ships himself off to fight in the Kazdel Civil War for peacekeeping reasons, situation turns to shit at the end of his tour, forced to stay in Kazdel and make money as a merc, meets up the first W's crew at the age of sixteen, circus-slapstick follows. Ps: I'm not giving up on "Almost Green", only taking a small break and also delivering some much needed fluff-ish stuff. Tell me you thoughts in the comments, I tend to reply to every single one of them and love reading through them all! Have fun!

Through thick and thin the Law shall prevail. A new sense of purpose awaits us, children of light, in the land where it all began. The darkness in which we once cowered in fear, now curbed by the might of our endless light. Come, brothers, come, sisters. Let there be peace among the wicked, just as the Law dictates. Peace and certainty is all that you have ever longed for, little angel. A bright, stable future. A roof without holes above thy head. Acknowledgement and recognition of thy existence, feverish dreams of grandeur. Greed born from yearning, treacherous vines of rapacity taint your innocent soul. You seek a future that does not exist. Let thy fingers hold the fragile line between dream and nightmare. Let thy light navigate the path. Shall thee give in and falter, O' land of old, envelop his body in thy unending flame of chaos. Spit out nothing but an empty husk, the remnants of a smile once so bright. Shall thee prevail, O', Great Kazdel, I ask of you, the impossible - take mercy on the innocent. Don't let the radiance dim and don't let the mind turn bleak. Wake, young traveler. Bid thy farewells and burn thy bridges. It's time to say goodbye, curly head. Cross post from AO3. For a shorter and more on-point description, look no further! I had something silly written up before throwing it out in exchange for that wall of text upstairs. It's a little story "about a young, dumb sankta who's been dealt a bad hand at life, looking for his place in all this mess. The pointless search for a better future leads him far, far away from home, to a country forever ravaged by war and misery - Kazdel, the promised land where devils roam free and peace feels out of place." Anyway, it's quite lengthy, but hopefully enjoyable? Slide a comment if you want, I'll give you a tiny kiss on the forehead. Man, do I love comments. (Lastly, to point out, English is not my native language, but I don't think it'll be much of an issue ;3)