I've been feeling uninspired as of late so I just typed out some short blurbs. Sorry if it's all incohesive and repetitive :'( Also times are all over the place so some are in the past and some are more recent

"Sometimes," Connor sighed, putting his hands behind his head since Cadyn had stolen all the pillows off his bed, "Life sucks. Really bad."

Letting a spoonful of ice cream fall back into his bowl, Cadyn set the bowl on the nightstand, reclined back in a chair. "Yeah."

"Sometimes, I hate Shadowhunting."

"Yeah."

Connor gazed at the ceiling, his thoughts unfiltered as he spoke. "Sometimes, I feel like dying."

"...Yeah."

"But like, I don't want to be dead but sometimes I want to die."

"Yeah."

"Is that morbid?"

Cadyn nodded a few times. "Yeah."

They were silent for a long while, contemplating.

"Are you depressed?" Cadyn asked, sitting up a little straighter and mixing the melted ice cream.

"No. That's just the mundane millennial part of me talking."

"Okay, good."

"I'm glad you're here."

Offering a comforting smile, Cadyn glanced over at him. "Yeah. I know."

Taking the letter back when it was handed to him, Connor looked away on instinct, ashamed. He gazed at the letter again, reading it over a few times as if to convince himself that it said what it did.

"I don't understand," his father started, watching him with a hint of disappointment. "How did you not get in? If you are going to try out for such a school, I expected a son of mine to at least not fail the tests."

"I didn't fail them," Connor responded quickly, holding out the paper again and pointing to how the board of the Scholomance had worded it. "I did well. I had done well and they did not think I would be a fit. That is different."

"Your mother and I spent too much money on you and your brother to waste it on a failed initiation," scoffed his father, making no move to acknowledge the paper. "We hired the best trainers and sent you to the Academy and you still only present mediocrity. Have you any idea how much money-"

"Is that what you're concerned about? Money?" Tucking the letter in his back pocket, Connor raised his hands to run through his hair to attempt a leash on his frustration. "By Raziel, that is the last thing you should be worrying about. You act like we're on the brink of poverty because of the way you've gone out of line for us." His tone grew sarcastic, biting back a harsher comment.

He had never been close with his parents, nor had their relationship been particularly volatile, but he found that he had not been able to have a conversation with either of them as of recent without dissolving into an argument. Fatigue strained his expression, sore from the hours he had spent honing his aim with a bow only to find that it was not enough to convince the Scholomance that he was worthy of their acceptance. It seemed his father had higher hopes for him, which he almost found surprising.

"And look at where that got both of you." Coldly and formally, his father stared him down to keep him silent. "You need to remember that you are a Shadowhunter and that your actions reflect that of your family name."

"What family name? That's full of shit, you acting like we're some distinguished family that I just brought down." Disgusted, Connor bit his tongue to unsuccessfully quell his temper. "I remember I am a Shadowhunter, but I am also a person and, if you haven't noticed, things haven't been going that great recently."

"You do not speak to me like that," his father reprimanded, a hint of his English accent rounding his vowels. "I know you are grieving, but there comes a time where you need to get over yourself and grow up. It is no excuse to act in disrespect against your family."

"Grow up?" Startled, Connor let out a humourless laugh. "Since when was apathy linked to 'growing up'? My brother - your son - died and you're telling me to get over myself? Do you hear what you're saying?"

"I hear what the Scholomance is saying and they don't want you because you're delicate and they've rendered you too unstable to study at their establishment. Does that sound like a proper Shadowhunter to you?"

Scoffing, Connor shook his head. "They're just saying I need time and I'll try out again next year...I don't see why it matters to you. When has anything in my life ever mattered to you?"

"Connor, you listen to-"

"Oh, right. Now that you don't have a replacement child, I suppose the stakes have raised, huh?" Stepping back, Connor scowled, hating the way his mood often took control. "Whatever. Sorry I didn't do as well as you envisioned."

"You misunderstand. I only want what's best for you."

"I understand perfectly." Offended, but mostly dismayed, Connor tore his gaze away from his father to stalk away. He'd regret his words later, of course, but he didn't have a care at the moment. He shouldn't have expected anything different.

Studying the symbol on his wrist, Luca could not assign meaning to the deep, dark lines that marred his skin.

While he was certain they were fairly harmless, he could not find anyone to satisfy his curiosity and tell him what they meant. Even demons he had asked did not know what the crests symbolized. The sight of them hinted at evil and he wondered silently if they were a reflection of what power he had summoned, finding dark magic to be far too enticing. The thoughts of demons muddled in his brain, but he had been good at tuning them out, for after a while, they started to become noiseless static.

Many demons were objects of pity that, when harnessed, cried out with feeble lashes of claws and teeth for blood. Luca had never given in to their wants. A few times, the stronger demons had set alight his demon blood where it grew hungry for the ripping of veins underneath his hands but he swallowed back such urges and had a cigarette.

He pulled his sleeve down to hide the crest. It reminded him of a bruise - black blood, soul rifts, and ichor blossoming from where it festered under his skin.

"If you ever leave your Hunt, sweetheart, you know you'll always have a place with me," Nyx murmured, his fingers working at a ribbon around Aspen's neck to tie it neatly. "You know that, right?"

Aspen lifted his chin slightly, the ribbon slightly constrictive though he didn't complain. "I know."

"I have enough money with a few business partners to buy an establishment in the Towns. You could work for me, kid. I'd have quite a few positions available." Pulling back, Nyx admired him, his eyes slits as a sliver of light fell across his face. "I'd pay you quite a sum. You could buy things for that…friend of yours."

"I think he'd hate it if I worked under you. I don't blame him." Slipping his arm through Nyx's, Aspen straightened and waited to be led through the front door and onto the street. "You haven't made a good impression."

"I don't need for him to like me. I just need him to know me." Possessively, Nyx kept his arm close to his own body so Aspen couldn't stray. There were all sorts of social events he attended, usually with Poppy on his arm when Aspen wasn't around, and he was dressed smartly in a suit, which looked a little odd in the Towns, but Nyx never cared about standing out. Feeling bare without his cloak, Aspen shivered, staring at the ground where they walked along familiar streets.

Swallowing, Aspen cringed when a gust of cold air weaved between his wings. "Where are we headed? You never specified."

"Just a social gathering. I'm going to make some deals," Nyx answered, "So you better be on good behaviour. I trust you will, now that we've passed that rebellious stage of yours."

Aspen kept his reply silent, uncomfortable.

"And as a gift, I'll take a bit of the edge off, okay?" Reaching into his pocket with his free hand, Nyx pulled out a small packet, extending it towards Aspen. "That's expensive stuff. I promise it'll keep you in a good mood."

Taking the packet gingerly, Aspen appeared on the verge of a protest before quieting at the glimmer in Nyx's eyes. If it was what he wanted, he was in no position to object. He had grown used to gifts being requirements and he rubbed the plastic between his fingers until it came undone, raising it to his lips. A dusting of the powder had escaped from the packet, shining on his fingers where it glimmered in holographic colours; it was of faerie origin, no doubt.

The powder dissolved on his tongue and it was almost too sweet, his expression morphing to one of slight disdain. Swallowing it, Aspen yearned for a bit of water to wash the taste down though he cleared his expression of all dislike.

"This an upper or a downer?" He asked, tucking the empty packet in his pocket.

"Why don't you find out?"

"I like to know what I'm taking before I head out to places," Aspen sighed, crumpling the packet and sticking it in his back pocket. "I feel off when I don't know, like I'm waiting for something to happen."

"I think you're just being sensitive because of recent events." Nyx's remark was indifferent, his gaze flickering to the side now and then to study Aspen's expression. "I know you've been thinking about it."

Unable to outright admit such a thing, Aspen grew quiet, his steps light as they crossed the street. His name seeped in and out of his thoughts, recoiling at the burning touch that was still imprinted in his side. It wasn't like him, to feel so invaded, and he berated himself for being so unsettled. Sometimes he wracked his mind to try and think, really think about what had happened, but all he could remember were hands and teeth and fire and the way his breath grew short and his heart fluttered at the sound of his name.

Sometimes it felt like there was someone else in his skin.

"Aspen." Nyx's voice broke through his thoughts, stopping him on the side of the street. "Don't look lost. It's unattractive."

"Sorry-..." The word faltered in his mouth. "I didn't mean to."

"I just want what's best for you." It was a lie, of course, but it sounded sweet to Aspen.

"I'll be good."

Gently, Nyx placed a hand to tilt Aspen's chin up, his expression contemplative. "Now keep your chin up, sweetheart. I'll make sure you have one hell of a night."