#deep state’s puppets are deciding our future

[awesomecooperlove]

🏕️🏝️🗼

[angelofrainfrogs]

Break My Mind: Ch. 4

~Coauthored by @zeitghest~

Fandom(s): Five Nights At Freddy’s: Security Breach

Description: Gregory must be dreaming this time. No sooner had he come to accept this strange reality where everyone is alive and well, than he’s sent back through time and space to the weekend he got trapped in the Pizzaplex. He’s supposed to help his family get on track for a better future, yet… didn’t he already succeed in his own timeline? Confused but relieved, Gregory drops back into his new life in the mega mall. In fact, who should be waiting for him but Michael, clad in a security uniform and searching for his missing family! Only—the night guard seems a bit more withered than when Gregory last saw him. Not to mention that cold look in his silver eyes…

Rating: T

Read on Ao3

William had let a toolbox drop loudly on the table as he heard Henry’s stark explanation. If Michael hadn't made the eye roll-inducing, incredibly stupid mistake of shoving his Remnant father inside what was essentially steel armor, he might've protested the choice of killing his son. Still, the same boy he used to feed and tell stories to—the boy that people had compared him to for years was a monster. One he should have rid their lives of long ago.

Charlie might not care much for William. Not since his drunken incident... But she was still a bleeding heart. Running a hand through her short and choppy hair, she quietly asked: “You alright, Will…?”

“—Fine. I'm fine,” he insisted, stepping away from the workbench to quickly avoid the discussion. “Let's not speak of it. Gregory, come here, my boy. We should wrap your wrist before the bone sets strangely. Henry? Be a lamb and help me unroll this gauze. My fingers are too round...” Will spoke with a smile in his voice as he tried to focus on the silliness of the situation, pushing the deep-set anxiety and fear of his son far down in his blackened heart.  

Will was good with kids. There was a reason Henry had decided to open a children’s entertainment venture with him, after all. He just… wasn’t the best with them all the time. Especially his own.

“I’ve got you,” Henry told him, coming over to assist trying not to dwell on how he’d repeated that statement at nauseam over the years.

“Henry, will you take a second look at these blueprints for me?”

I’ve got you.

“Hen, we need to order more supplies; our stock’s run low.”

I’ve got you.

“Old sport, do you think you could watch my little ones for a bit? I have to get these designs finalized by tomorrow…”

I’ve got you.

“Henry… I-I’m so sorry, I… there’s been an accident…”

I—

I can’t stand you anymore.

That was when it had all ended, their relationship torn apart and never fully repairable. But now, sometimes, flashes of the old William came through… and it was those moments Henry clung to that let him know the good friend he remembered hadn’t always been a figment of his imagination.

“Here, Greg—” With the gauze sufficiently unrolled, Henry glanced to the boy watching him with that intense, silver stare. “—Will’s going to hold your wrist while I wrap it. This’ll hurt, but try not to yell, okay? Bite your shirt or something if you need to scream. We don’t want to attract attention.”

As Charlie, independent as she was, worked on her arm alone, she watched her dad and uncle interact with Gregory. William carefully kneeled as the child trusted the flat of his palm to his fuzzy grasp. The Puppet intervened to help Charlotte, diverting her attention. Her leg springs certainly needed tuning, but for now, Puppet got to work on setting Charlie’s arm back into its own joint. Her friend’s mind just seemed to be in a different state; the last thing Marionette wanted was for her to accidentally severe another connection by accident.

All Charlie could think of was a simple question with no easy answer: why was it so easy for William to be this good person now?

One fateful day it had to be her that he took his anger out on. Sure, she’d be the first to admit that maybe she'd overstepped and made her former uncle mad.

But she thought he loved her like family.

Her gaze was far-off and distant as she observed the tender way that William worked with both her father and their new friend. When Gregory looked as if he was about to cry, a hand shot up to caress the boy's cheek.

“Gregory—I don’t know if you know this, but the last time I got hurt, I told my dog about it,” William began, successfully getting Gregory’s mind away from the pain as Henry wrapped his tender wrist. “Yep—you know what the mutt said to me? He told me: ruff.” He spoke in a deadpan as the tears dissolved in Gregory’s eyes, pain replaced by laughter.

It was so strange how William operated sometimes. As if his own body was haunted by the person he once was, in moments of hardship supporting their little group, only to turn and become cold-hearted the next minute...

The sheer ridiculousness of the joke made Henry snort, though he was quick to correct when William turned that cheerful rabbit face on him.

“I’m not laughing because it was good, I’m laughing because it was so dumb,” Henry insisted, though that sort of stupid humor seemed to be just the thing Gregory needed right now. Will had successfully curbed the tears before they came, and soon Henry was putting the final piece of tape on the gauze to hold it in place. He gave Gregory’s hair another ruffle and stepped back. “Alright, kiddo—all done. Just try to keep pressure off that wrist and it should heal up nicely.”

Turning to check on his daughter, he was pleasantly surprised to see Charlie moving both arms now.

“Oh, fantastic job, sweetheart!” he praised, coming over and lifting her arm to make sure all the joints were functioning properly. “Look at you—a natural mechanic. Makes me a proud papa bear, I’ll tell you that.”

He sniffled loudly and wiped a metaphorical tear from Freddy’s grubby face. Even the forlorn Henry Emily could be funny when the time called for it.

...Henry was a bad liar; always had been. That was why William handled PR and customer service at the diner back in their heydays. Will knew that dumb puns were some of his favorites, even if Emily would never admit to it.

Charlie was distracted momentarily in her work as her father approached her. It was a good thing too; she was going to snap the screwdriver in hand using if she didn’t calm down.

“I learned from the best,” Charlie reminded, side-eyeing Henry with pride. She redirected her anger into something productive—something she could physically fix and see the change in. “Mike really whipped Puppet around badly. She was completely missing screws for her leg joints…”

How Michael was still so fucking resilient after all these years, Henry had no idea. With all the things his rotting body had been through, it was a wonder he still had all his limbs intact. Henry would hate to see the state of him under all those bandages, especially if that glimpse of his face earlier was anything to go by…

“Sorry we let him get you, Puppet,” Henry apologized, his heart going out to the ever-protective robot. In a way, by this point she was like another daughter to him—silent and watchful, the Marionette kept tabs on her big sister’s whereabouts and made sure she was safe. Peering closer at Charlie’s handiwork, Henry gave an approving nod. “Looking good, though! You’ll be back on those legs in no time.”  

The Marionette just gave a little shrug. It was her job after all. It didn't matter how many times she broke for the people she loved. As long as they were all collectively okay, then the robot considered her mission successful. Were it not for her and Charlie's unintentional fusion all those years ago, maybe she would've given up—accepted long ago that her purpose had long-since been rendered obsolete. The Puppet waved her lanky hand, attempting to tell Henry not to worry as Charlie found another replacement bolt for her thin joints.

Gregory inspected his bandages, wiggling his fingers experimentally. The swelling had gone down, but with his wrist still immobile, it left Gregory to wonder how long it’d take for the Remnant to help fix the break. Reasonably, it’d only been an hour since his incident with Mike. But Gregory was impatient.

The more he ruminated on Michael's violence towards him, the more his resentment was beginning to grow for the man. Especially as he saw what Mike was doing to the people around him.

What made the Aftons like this? Gregory was far from any armchair psychologist—even he knew that some things like violence just run in the family. Still, though... it hurt to see it happening to someone he loved so fiercely in other circumstances.

“You look mad—are your bandages not tight enough?” asked William, pulling Gregory from the rage he seemed to be stewing in. 

“Huh?” the boy asked before actually being able to process what he'd been asked. “No—No, they're great. Thanks for helping with that... I'm just still pissed that Mike tricked me still.”

He was surprised when William placed a careful, plush hand to his shoulder. “Good. Use that anger. Learn from it. Don't let him trick you again.”

“But don’t let it fester,” Henry had to add, sparing a glance over his shoulder. He hadn’t meant to listen in, but they were in a small space after all. Moving back to Gregory’s side, he gently rested a paw on top of his head. “Use the anger, yeah—it’ll help get you past any hang-ups when it comes time to face him. Just… don’t get too lost in it, alright?”

The last thing they needed was another psychotic Remnant-infused kid on their hands….

Henry could see William shifting out of the corner of his eye, but before he could say anything there was a loud bang on the sealed door. Everyone whipped around to stare at the thick metal as a familiar voice came through, muffled but insistent.

“Guys, come on…” Michael sounded half-tired, half-amused. “I’m impressed you tricked Freddy, I’ve got to admit… but there’s only so much you can hide. He’s a smart bear, after all. Now will you open the damn door and hand over the kid?”

“Shit!” Henry hissed, instinctively snatching Gregory into his arms. “Damn it—we need to get out of here now.”

The way they came in was clearly out of the question—who knew how many robot lackeys Michael had by his side. But hopefully that would mean the back way through the stage lift was uninhabited…

Charlie had run out of time to fix her Puppet. There were still so many weak points in her legs. It wouldn't be long until Michael figured out how to bypass the door—being a security guard meant he had unfiltered access anywhere.

“Keep him busy—” Charlie whispered harshly to the others, trying to buy time with money they didn't have.

Gregory's eyes widened at the intrusion. He thought they would be safe here, but Michael turned out to be a much more active enemy to have. It was a shame there was no room for compromise in his heart.

William stood up, moving towards the door as he would say with a roll of his eyes. “What makes you think we have the kid?”

Gregory knew they had to do something. Maybe... Maybe that room was still here; the unused storage space that Vanessa and William bastardized in his own timeline. He scampered to the far side of the room, looking for that fake wall behind the mostly barren shelving unit, pulling manual after manual off the shelves looking for the false one that would open the door.

Michael was busy patting down his pockets in search of the access card he needed. The Master Key would be able to unlock any door, no problem—he just had to find it first. The sound of William’s voice made him pause to let out a scoff.

“Father, please—do you think I’m stupid? I know you’re not letting that little Evan-clone out of your sight again until you’re decommissioned.”

Which Michael would very, very much like to do once he got this damn door open…

“Fuck!” the guard shrieked in a sudden bout of rage, throwing his hands in the air only to slam them hard against the door. Turning to Glamrock Freddy, who was watching him with a concerned tilt in his brow, Michael gave the bear his instructions. “I left the fucking key in my jacket; I’ve got to run back to the office, but you start trying passcodes on the keypad; I don’t remember the stupid code. Do not leave this spot until either I get back or you get in—understand?”

“Yes, Officer Michael,” Freddy replied, nodding his head in deferment.

With an annoyed click of his tongue Michael sped off, shoes pattering against the tiled floor of the Pizzaplex. As asked, Freddy immediately set to work cracking the code for Parts & Service. There was a child inside who needed his help, and he was going to reach him—along with that false rabbit who dared take on Bonnie’s likeness.

William laughed to himself, hands on his stomach as he felt his disintegrating rib bones bend at the effort.

“No, Michael, I know you're stupid—” He'd say as he heard Mike speeding off, as that was something he himself could see him doing. Going towards Gregory, who'd been frantically throwing books and manuals off one of the shelves, he placed a firm hand on the kid's shoulders.

“Calm down,” William intoned, seeing how worked up he was getting. Those few extra seconds spared to them might help in the long run.

“There was a room here! I-I thought maybe....” Gregory attempted to explain, upon seeing the lost look in William's tired and milky stare.

“Son...,” William began, wincing when Gregory began to look desperate. “You can't run from all your problems forever. Sometimes, you have to face them head on. Even if it's scary.”

Before Gregory could protest the idea of fighting Michael, Charlie closed up the Puppet's fabric outer lining, shouting to them that she was all done.

“The stage lift!” Henry exclaimed, frantically pointing in that direction. “If it still works, we can take it up and give them another runaround—buy us some more time!”

Freddy heard the shout, redoubling his efforts to crack the code. He should be able to figure it out with no problem due to his logical processors, but there was this haze in his electric brain that made it hard to access that feature. It seemed Michael’s need for total control had some downsides.

“Do not go anywhere!” he called, blue-tipped claws working tirelessly punching in one number combination after another. “You must come with me, superstar—I only want to keep you safe!”

“Ignore him,” Henry snapped, ushering the group forward. Now that Puppet was functional, she could speed along with Charlie and offer some extra help to guide Gregory on the right path. “If the stage lift works, we go. If not…” His bear face grimaced with all the emotion it could.

If not… they’d have to strong-arm their way past Freddy.

Freddy's voice was convincing, genuinely upset that he couldn't get to him. It broke Gregory's heart to tell the bear “no” when it sounded as if he only had the best intentions for him. Gregory knew by now that this was a mirage, a trick orchestrated under Michael's tyrannical rule.

“I-I'm sorry Freddy!” Gregory called, William scolding him to be quiet as he snatched him up into his arms. “I don't trust Michael—”

“Change of plans—run. We're running now,” Will corrected, looking back over his shoulder as they stepped onto the platform. “How the hell do we get this thing moving, then?”

Charlie knew this would probably be a bad idea; the standing controls were over past the workbench. Abandoning her group, Charlie raced for the controls as William and Henry stepped upon it. It was all ready to launch. All she had to do was slam the button...

Charlie smacked the giant green button with her palm. A pneumatic hiss jolted the platform and sent them at a measure pace above. Far too fast for her to sprint and jump onto it, she watched her family lift above.

“I'll find another way!” she assured them, much to every member of their party’s protests.

“Charlie?! Charlie, god damn it!” Henry shouted, reaching out to grab her. He was stopped from going over the edge at the last second by William's firm grip on his arm, and Henry could only watch as his daughter shrunk out of sight. He shook his head, muttering as he paced towards the center of the platform. “Damn it, she's going to be with them alone! I've got to go back for her; we can't leave her with Michael when he's so pissed...”

As if summoned by his name, the other door to Parts & Service opened with a sudden hiss. Michael was back with the access card, practically shoving Freddy out of the way in his haste to get to the others... but his efforts were in vain. He let out a growl of frustration, seeing the stage lift already slotting into place above. Again, they'd just barely escaped his reach.

Well... not everyone, it seemed.

“Hello, Charlie,” Michael sneered, fixating on his former friend-turned-robot. He'd forgone the mask now, seeing no point in wearing it since Gregory had already gotten a clear view of his rotted face. He'd given up the amiable convincing angle of recruitment—now Michael was hell-bent on brainwashing the kid by force using any means necessary.

And if he could take out a big piece of the competition right now, that would help his cause greatly.

***

The Puppet looked about ready to jump off the platform after Charlie. The fall would ruin any chance of her landing safely without breaking a second time, so Henry was quick to snag a spindly arm while she writhed on the floor, reaching for the person she couldn’t grab as Henry lamented her departure. When the platform slotted into place up top on the main floor, the moment Henry’s grip eased Puppet shot off like a bullet without a word. Their group was scattered, and William growled impatiently.

“Why the hell did she do that?! We could’ve fought them together! DUMB—” William fretted, holding the worried Gregory tightly as he jumped from the stage and into the food court. “Stupid... UGH! We have to get Gregory to safety.”

“I'm not leaving without Charlie!” Gregory hissed, looking back to the stage, fighting William's hold on him as they both struggled for dominance.

“Like fuck you will; Henry, let's go!” the rabbit snapped harshly. The child clearly still didn’t understand the gravity of the situation. Charlie's body may be broken, but in the end, her soul would still be here. Gregory could be lost to them forever should they go back to save Henry's daughter. It all felt like a catch-22, as refusing to save either made William feel...

Well—like a murderer.

Henry was nearly beside himself with conflicted thoughts. William’s line of thinking was valid: Charlie's soul was forever tied to this place so long as Michael was still around to cause chaos. But the thought of seeing his daughter's broken, lifeless body again just—

“...Let's go. We have to keep moving.” He made the decision with a hardened gaze, brushing Gregory's hair as he sped past to take the lead in a quick attempt to soothe. “Puppet's going to help her; she'll be alright. We need to find cover before someone else spots us—I don't doubt Michael will call for backup as soon as he realizes we're gone.”

William couldn't help but feel as if he was failing the Emilys once again with his actions. He tried to tell himself that this was the necessary course, despite how it made him feel.

“Charlie's going to be alright. Alright?” he tried to assure the last two remaining members of their little party. Quickly, he followed Henry, their path unknown. It was merely a matter of moving undetected now.

Gregory didn't care how badly these strange-looking suits smelled. He buried his face away in William's chest to chase away the sight of potential Glamrocks coming to harass them further. Henry told him he was brave... And Gregory wouldn't scream if he didn't actually see any danger heading their way.

If Henry remembered correctly from their previous forays through the Pizzaplex, there was a small storage room behind one of the food stalls on the first level. It wouldn't provide much in the way of protection, but the sheer amount of stuff in there should give amble cover to hide out a little while. Henry led his companions there, only spotting another animatronic at the last second when they rounded a corner. It looked like a flash of grey fur, though he couldn't be certain—and he wasn't going to stay and find out.

Once the trio were inside the room Henry shut the door, shoving a broom through the handles for good measure before ushering them to the far back. Only then did he sit heavily, taking a second to process as he put his face in his paws.

Charlie would be alright.

She was strong, and so was Puppet—together, they were unstoppable.

***

Charlie whipped around as the door swung out of the way. Squatted in a defensive position, she was ready to break into a run at a moment’s notice.

Michael... She had mixed feelings on the guy. Roughly, he was on the same metaphorical par as his father in terms of how much she wanted to punch their lights out. Repeatedly.

“Mike...” Charlie was unsure of the fate that might befall her now. She doubted Michael missed her—hell, he barely missed his own brother after his untimely passing. Though she’d much rather have backup to dole out revenge, it might be necessary to act on her own here and now to save Gregory. She would not let another child die on Fazbear property, no matter the cost.

“Look, Charlie,” Michael began, crossing his arms and slouching slightly to one side. “I don't know why you're still involved in all this—William got an even more tortuous death than you and he's going to rot in that suit for eternity. I made sure of that.”

There was a hint of a truly deranged smile curling the edges of his lips now, those eerie silver eyes locked onto Charlie's own.

“Why don't you just rest? Give up the ghost, so to speak.” Michael let out a soft chuckle at his off-color pun. “I don't want to hurt you again... but I will if you keep getting in my—Freddy, will you stop fucking pacing?!”

Michael suddenly snapped his head to the side, staring down the Glamrock who'd frozen in his tracks. Wide-eyed, Freddy clasped his claws in front of his torso and hung his head, hating that he'd somehow annoyed the guard yet again.

“I am sorry, Officer Michael—I am simply worried about Gregory,” he confessed, and though his words seemed genuine there was a hint of something dark in his eyes. “I do not trust those older models—they are broken, and I fear they cause a great threat to his well-being.”

“That's so true, Fredbear!” Michael replied, sounding as if he was talking to a small child. “Which is why we're trying to get rid of them. And I need your help again—hold Charlie back while I get a head start, will you? They can't have gotten far.”

Freddy was more than happy to comply, nodding as he turned his full attention to Charlie and started towards her with arms outstretched.

Charlie couldn't get a word in edgewise with Michael's psychotic monologuing. She screamed and nearly ran in place as she tried to avoid Freddy's once-gentle arms.

“Don't! We're not your enemies!” she said, though there was no convincing the well-meaning bear. He nearly knocked the unneeded wind out of her with his grasp, her back now pressed against Freddy's chest as he hoisted her into the air.

“MIKE! Please! Please don't do this to Gregory—he's just a kid!” She nearly sobbed from the futility of it all. “Don't hurt him anymore! This can all end tonight if you just—” Charlie pleaded, but her chest plating felt it might burst if she kept struggling and talking in vain. Freddy's grip was like an iron vice, clearly seeing her as a threat at Michael's command.

“I won't hurt him if he stops being a little shit,” Michael responded simply. Satisfied that Freddy had her, the guard turned and began walking off, taking the long way around to the main floor. As the bear followed obediently, Mike lifted his Fazwatch to his mouth—it'd been specially altered to connect to all the Glamrocks so he could control them more easily. “Everyone, the kid's somewhere in the main atrium. I want him captured and brought to me now—use force if necessary.”

There was a chorus of responding growls and affirmations, causing Michael to smirk as he lowered his arm. No way was the kid getting away now.

In Freddy's custody, an annoyed scowl stretched across Charlie’s face as Mike led the two of them towards the surface.

“Could you tell your teddy bear to stop squeezing me so hard?” Charlie joked darkly. “Feels like I'm being strangled again—it's not like I can go anywhere even if I slipped out.”

“I am sorry—”

“Freddy, don't apologize,” Michael snapped, cutting the bear off. “You're not actually hurting her, she's just whining.”

Freddy fell silent, though he did loosen his grip just a tad. Not nearly enough for Charlie to wriggle lose, but enough to not risk crushing some metallic ribs.

This was all for Gregory's benefit, he kept reminding himself. Michael was a guard and had the child's best interests at heart, despite his... abrasive nature. Surely that had to be the case—why else would he be doing all this?

“You're such a bastard, Mike,” Charlie groaned, head hanging forward as she felt less claustrophobic without the unneeded grip around her chest. Now that she could take in more simulated breaths, she tried to goad him into talking more—the best option was to waste his time in favor of buying her friends some instead. “You're wasting your energy, too. We're going to get Gregory out of here. Just you wait...”

Suddenly, there was a skittering ahead; the sounds of something quick hitting the ground in a short run. Whatever it was had darted out of sight, disturbing their walk for just one moment. Charlie felt her mechanical heart kickstart—but, in rare form, not from fear.

“Oh... Oh man, Mike, you fucked up now,” Charlie warned, cryptic as she smirked to herself. She just prayed her hero would be quick, hopefully learning her previous lesson when dealing with Michael Afton...

“What?” With narrowed eyes, Michael peered through the darkness for the new foe. He’d heard that sound far too many times to have any doubt as to what it belonged to.

“Ugh, don’t tell me you got that hunk of junk working again…,” he groaned, slowing his pace ever so slightly and unhooking his taser from its holster. The Puppet caught him unaware last time, and he’d nearly gotten his own limbs ripped off in her frantic scramble for power. She might look skinny and harmless, but she was really fucking tough.

“Freddy, don’t let Charlie go no matter what happens,” Michael said, not even bothering to turn around. He knew the bear heard and would do as he was told. Freddy trusted him implicitly, after all—Mike had made sure of it.

Charlie hung limp. There wasn’t a thing she could do in this cramped hallway. There was a chance she may be able to force Freddy’s arms open, but there was an equivalent chance he could snap her in half like a dry pizza crust first. Before them, the hallway tapered open into a row of costume racks and stacked crates blocking their path. This made Charlie laugh; Puppet was fucking with him. She wondered where the animatronic had gone, but even she could hardly predict her longtime friend.

“Oof—” Charlie said out loud, looking at the tall stacks of abandoned crap blocking their way. She snickered to herself, hoping the inconvenience would piss Mike off the way that his existence did for her. “—Looks like you’ll have to go a different way. You know, unless you feel like crawling over all that shit. Or, maybe Freddy’s huge ass could crush the crates.”

“Shut up,” Michael snapped, grinding his jaw and balling his hands into fists.

Great. Just great. Yet another fucking inconvenience.

It’d take just as much time to clamber over the blockade than it would to turn back and use the stage lift like the others. It’d surely reset by now, and with the other Glamrocks ordered to the atrium Michael would have his choice of robotic backup when he left Freddy behind to hit the button.

…Then again, this could be just what Puppet wanted. Either way, Michael knew he was about to get even more annoyed no matter what path he took.

“Ugh—come on,” he said, shoving past Freddy and his captive as he marched back to Parts & Service. “I’m going the other way.”

“But, Michael—”

“I don’t want to hear it, Freddy!” The guard let out an annoyed huff. The bear was seriously starting to get on his already-fraying nerves. “Damn, did they have to make you so fucking pushy?!”

Charlie began to snicker at him again. This was rich. After so much torture at the hands of the rogue security guard, she really needed to see her former friend’s annoyance in person. In a way, his incompetence was lifting her spirits.

“Wow.” She laughed out with hard roll of her bright green eyes. “Even your lackeys disagree with you. So—are you ready to admit you don’t have any clue what you’re doing yet?”

Charlie knew that this might be poking the bear, more literally than figuratively. She couldn’t care less. He had it coming, and it was her turn to rub dirt in his eyes over this whole debacle. She swore that she could even see Mike sweating in the dim emergency lighting of the backrooms.

“I have a plan; you and your stupid friends keep messing it up!” Michael sneered, stopping in his tracks to point an accusatory finger at her. This was all supposed to go the way he wanted, and yet those springlocked bastards had to show their faces again after Mike thought he'd done away with them for good...

Not only that, Henry somehow made an android for his supernaturally-inclined daughter before he'd gotten skewered, creating two annoyances for Michael to deal with now that the Puppet was back online.

No more, though. He was getting weary of the chase; his body wasn't what it used to be, after all.

Finally, he reached the stage lift, angrily slamming the button to call it back down. He remained in contemplative silence as it returned, only speaking when he walked up the small ramp to get on the lift as it ground to a halt.

“Freddy, listen to me,” he hissed, glaring at the bear. “Keep. Her. Down. Here. You got that? I don't care what it takes. If I find out she got away from you, I'm going to have to reconsider your position as my top friend...”

“You do not have to worry, Officer Michael,” Freddy responded quickly. There was no way Mike would actually follow through on that should he fail this task... was there? He was Freddy Fazbear—he was meant to be number one.

Without further prompting he pressed the button, sending Michael up top while he remained with Charlie down below.

Charlie scoffed; she wasn’t going to stay here for long. For now she was just being hugged too tightly for her liking by one of Michael’s walking murder machines. Charlie heard Freddy claim that he only wanted to keep Gregory safe, but she wasn’t so sure about that. It wouldn’t be a risk she would take otherwise.

There was a moment of silence as she was left with Freddy, as uncomfortable and tense as it was awkward. The bear seemed to take his job seriously. After all, in his mind, kid’s lives were at stake here. Freddy’s naturally good nature was being taken advantage of with whatever faulty program that Mike uploaded to the Glamrocks…

It gave Charlie an idea. Though she doubted it would work, she still had to try.

“…Friends don’t do that, you know,” Charlie put out there gently. She knew it was a long shot trying to convince Fazbear that he was being used. It took Charlie years to figure it out herself, and she wasn’t even brainwashed!

—To her knowledge, at least.

“...I do not know what you mean,” Freddy said tersely, keeping his grip tight and secure as he walked Charlie back to the middle of the repair room. “And I do not think I should be speaking with you, as you are a bad influence, like the others.”

(Oh, if only the poor bear knew how wrong he was.)

***

Up in the main atrium, the stage lift ground to a halt. Michael immediately hopped off, grimacing when he landed a bit too hard for his liking on the tiled floor. Looking around, he was relieved to spot an “ally” stalking nearby.

“Monty!” he called, summoning the gator over with a wave. Excellent—he managed to find the best muscle and the one that fought back the least. “Has anyone seen that kid yet?!”

“Heeeey, Mike!” the gator drawled, walking over with an apologetic shrug. “Nah, sorry—we've been lookin' but we think they're hidin' out somewhere...”

“Of course they are.” The guard huffed, starting off in a random direction. “You, come with me. I need backup now that Freddy's preoccupied.”

“Ooh, Fredbear's in trouble...,” Monty sang, then snickered as he followed along obediently.

Michael simply rolled his eyes. Despite his tendency to provide unnecessary commentary, at least the gator wasn't going to question his decisions.

***

In the world above, Gregory and his new-old friends were making do with the limited resources they had. Gregory had come to realize how little the original suits could do compared to the shiny Glamrocks. Their spring-loaded interiors made them tough enough to stand the test of time—but they stunk like sin and were slow to boot. Luckily, Gregory was used to being around gross things in his life by this point. Even right now, he was surrounded in a dimly lit kitchen dry-storage area with various spoiling foods knocked down in an attempt to barricade the door to get in. It wouldn’t stop the stronger animatronics, but it would give all of them time to prepare…

Things were looking grim, but with a lack of anywhere to go, Henry’s idea of storing themselves away inside the pantry for the time being gave Gregory an opportunity to relax. He felt on edge, but reminded himself that no matter what happened, at least it wouldn’t kill the boy. Unfortunately, there was a chance that he could turn into some emaciated, oxygen-deprived corpse before he hit fourteen.

As he ate chips and cold queso, Gregory sat across the floor from his current guardians. Both were tense and silent; if a few things were still the same as in his original world, Gregory could infer why they weren’t speaking to one another. He wondered how either could stand to be in the same room after the things he found out. 

“I think Charlie’s fine right now.” Gregory broke the silence, trying his hand at optimism. “Michael’s probably too busy looking for me… She’s smart; I bet Charlie’s already figuring out how to find us.”

“For sure,” Henry said absently, as if he was just responding for the sake of giving Gregory an answer. Then he blinked, sitting up a bit straighter after if suddenly realizing where he was.

He couldn’t afford to get lost in his head right now. Gregory needed his protection, and while he did trust Will to try and keep the kid safe at this point, with the old Brit solely relying on supernatural power to move his suit it made him less than ideal in quick situations. Henry needed to keep his wits about him—and he also needed to make sure Gregory didn’t get pulled into their depressing aura.

“Yeah, I’m sure she’s just fine,” he tried again, injecting a smile into his voice for good measure. He reached over to gently pat Gregory’s head, nodding to his snack. “How’s the food? I know it’s not The Ritz, but hopefully it’ll give you some energy for a bit.”

“It’s got… flavor,” Gregory answered with a lopsided grin, a stringy, coagulated strand of cheese stretching from the chip to his mouth. “…I don’t know if it’s good or bad. But it’s a flavor for sure.”

William was looking far-off to the door. At first, Gregory hated feeling bad for this man. Yet even if he had somewhat of a sordid past, the amount of times Will had already tried to protect him in this timeline made it very hard not to sympathize. It was impossible to forget the hell William had put him through in his own space-time, but it was quickly growing clear how all these small details added up to change his perception.

“Will?” Gregory called, earning his attention with a slow blink in his direction. “I was wondering if you guys went to the basement a lot…” Looking to Henry, he directed his question openly. “Have you ever seen more ghosts? You know… other than Charlie?”

William’s eyelids fell halfway, as if he was furrowing eyebrows that no longer were attached to the outer layer of the suit.

“Have you…?” William asked, almost accusingly if Gregory didn’t know better. 

“I asked you both first.” Gregory was firm, willing to be stubborn if it meant getting the whole truth from them about the resources they had at their disposal. He wasn’t going to play these games with the rabbit.

“Uh…,” Henry wasn’t sure how to respond at first. God, how he wished he could save this kid from all the horrors this multi-layered Pizzaplex had to offer…

If only they’d gotten Gregory out, busted a damn wall open if they had to just to set him free. But it was far too late for that now. Maybe if he’d still been human, Henry would be less forthcoming with information. The less Gregory knew, the less traumatized he’d be at the end of all this. Now though, with those silver eyes staring sharp and inquisitive at him through the darkness, Henry realized the kid didn’t have that luxury.

“…There’s no point hiding anything, Will,” he murmured, fully resigned to delivering unfortunate information. So far, to Henry’s knowledge the only “ghosts” Gregory interacted with were himself, Will, and Charlie—none of them technically “children” when they died, though Charlie was pushing it.

The ones in the basement though… they were a different sort of entity altogether.

“To your first question: no, we don’t go to the basement a lot,” the bear went on, not quite able to meet Gregory’s gaze. “The reason being the answer to your second ask: unfortunately there are other ghosts down there. Three, technically, and… something else.” He glanced side-eyed at Will, not really sure what they should categorize Ennard as. Letting out a sigh, he added: “They’re… not nearly as friendly as us, though. In all honesty, we don’t feel very welcome down there, so we tend to stay away.”

Gregory's mouth twisted in a frown. None of the ghosts wanted to see them? It was a stark contrast to how excited the kids were to break the monotony of it all reuniting with their old friends in his original world. 

“So you haven’t tried asking them for help?” Gregory asked, William’s eyes snapping to attention at the kid.

“No. And no, we won’t be leaving this pantry until we’re sure the coast is clear,” William replied, shutting down the idea fast.

Gregory wiped the crumbs from his hand and protested. “But we’re flailing out there, Will! And they have Charlie!”

Gregory and William stood now in a stand-off. The looks that they sent one another were haunting reflections of the past. It was like William was speaking to his own kid, the same challenging look he would give his kin over little disagreements, if not just a slight more measured when observing Gregory.

“Charlie will be fine. I—we can’t lose you, Gregory! I won’t do it again…” William sounded increasingly more upset. It wasn’t rage, as he never raised his voice, but his raspy cadence cracked with the strain in it. “Sit down and eat your crisps. We’re not asking poltergeists for help while you’re still hurt.”

Gregory crossed his arms and parked his butt on the hard floor.

“They’re chips…,” he grumbled; the tough love was new, especially coming from William Afton.

“Greg, have some compassion—Will’s British, he can’t help it,” Henry remarked, his tone surprisingly unbothered for such a tense conversation. He’d only been half-listening to the bickering, the gears in his mind turning as he mulled over their circumstances.

As usual, the kid had a point. Besides the fact it was driving him crazy to sit in this room doing nothing while his daughter was out dealing with who knows what, it would be a good idea to recruit others to their cause…

“…Look,” Henry began after a heavy silence, and he could feel the scathing look William’s emaciated face was giving him under that bunny mask. “I’m not saying it’s a good idea—and lord knows they’re not going to be happy about us bothering them, but… we can’t stay in this pantry forever. Sooner or later, one of those animatronics is going to bust down that door, and I’d much rather at least be trying to get ahead instead of being sitting ducks for Michael’s amusement.”

He looked to Gregory then, gaze serious as he rested a paw on his knee. “Greg, you’ve got to understand—these spirits are angry. It’s might not be easy trying to hold a civil conversation with them, let alone asking them for help… although at least they all hate Mike as much as the rest of us, so it’s possible. No matter what happens Will and I will protect you, but it might be rough down there—do you think you can handle that?”

Gregory’s long frown at being told “no” flipped upright at Henry’s joke. William had heard it all before—this was just a reused quip in Emily’s comedy repertoire. Though, he couldn’t lie that it may have made him smirk internally.

When Gregory processed just how pissed these ghosts might be, he remembered his first encounter with Cassidy. She was a spitfire who only managed to calm down a fraction once he got to know her.

“I can handle it; promise,” Gregory said with certainty. He capped up his jar of fake cheese and tossed the bag of chips aside.

William was compliant, though he really didn’t like this plan at all. If he had it his way, they would all be sitting barricaded in this room and pretending as if a manhunt for their blood wasn’t going on in the outside world. Yet here he was lumbering towards the makeshift wall he made and grumbling. “I think you’re both nuts.”

But then again, these little luck-based plans were getting them progress. He begun to move aside the barricade, tossing things out of the way and placing the wire frame shelving upright again to free their path.

“Took you this long to figure that out?” Henry quipped, standing to help William move things out of the way. This was good. Everyone was on the same page now, and they had a semblance of a plan. They were going to get through this.

Unbeknownst to the hopeful trio, the manhunt for Gregory was far closer than they wanted it to be. The sound-proof pantry may have kept them hidden, but it had the unintentional effect of blocking sound for them, too... and with Gregory not hooked into this Pizzaplex’s camera system, they had no way to tell that their presence had been noticed.

“Mike—” The gator stopped in his tracks, placing a hand on the guard’s shoulder and cocking his head as he spoke in a low whisper. He wasn’t on par with Roxanne, but even Monty’s advanced hearing could pick up on such noise from just around the corner. “—I think I hear somethin’… like heavy stuff movin’ around.”

William looked around, peering into the kitchen area with a cautious glance. He then held the door for his party to move through. Looking to Henry specifically, he told them: “Age before beauty; after you Hen,” in a playful manner. He may not be the best one to stay optimistic at times, but he wasn’t going to bring down Gregory’s excitement for his new plan.

Gregory had already been in front of Henry, closest to William. He rolled his eyes and told them with a teasing laugh: “You’re both old as hell!”

He came through the doorway and into the kitchen prep area… Only to freeze at the shadow peering at them from behind the door.

There were in fact two shadows, but the smaller one was near-impossible to see with Monty’s hulking frame backlit behind him. Only the dull, incandescent silver eyes gave any indication that their worst enemy was standing directly in their way.

“Hello again,” Michael remarked in a tone as casual as if they were discussing the weather.

“No, no, no!” Henry hissed, instinctively throwing Gregory behind him. Sandwiched between the two first generation springlock suits, the boy was surrounded by fuzzy-coated layers of pissed off steel and bone.

“Yes, yes, yes!” Michael mocked, taking a step forward. He paused when Henry slouched in a more defensive pose, raising his palms half-heartedly and speaking in a deadpan tone. “Oh no, someone’s angry…”

Then he spit out a laugh, lowering his hands to his hips. “If it’s any consolation, Charlie was still functional when I left her; I didn’t feel the need to ‘kill her’ again for no apparent reason—she’s already been through that enough.”

His glowing gaze flickered to William, evil and taunting. Michael knew he should just grab the kid and go before they got any ideas, but he couldn’t help rub salt in old wounds. Besides, it’s not like his father could hurt him from that death trap of a suit.

Gregory was beginning to hate the semi-decomposed smirk of Michael Afton, and just when his fear of Monty had finally ebbed, he was reminded of how formidable of an enemy the gator once was. Squished between his only remaining friends, Gregory watched as William glared hard at his son.

“You spiteful little shit…,” William growled, likely not making their situation any better. Sure, Michael was laughing now, but William had an edge he didn’t know about. “Did you come here just to be a smarmy jerk? Or are you going to give up?”

William always considered himself good at bluffing, even despite being dealt a bad hand and backed into the corner of the kitchen. Gregory peeked out behind Henry, grasping onto his grungy fur as William backed them further, putting space between them and the enemy.

“Mike—please just leave me alone…,” the boy begged.  

“No can do, kid,” Michael replied with a shake of his head. “You’re just too good of an ally to pass up—so if you’re not going to join me willingly, we’ll just have do it the hard way.” He lifted his Fazwatch to his mouth. “Roxy, Chica—the child is by the first floor kitchen. Get here asap.”

“Michael!” Henry snapped, as if his harsh tone would actually do anything to sway the guard’s mission. As expected, Michael simply turned his head towards the old bear and scoffed.

“Come on, Henry—you think I’ll listen to you? I don’t even listen to my real dad. Monty?” Snapping his fingers, he pointed to the little face peering out from behind the springlock bear. “Get him.”

Henry growled, reaching an arm behind him protectively when the gator started forward.

“Hey, I don’t wanna hurt ya, buddy,” Monty said with a demented grin, claws outstretched as he stalked towards them. “Just gimme the kid and we can aaaaall forget this and play a game of golf together—how’s that sound?”

“Fuck off,” Henry snapped, totally at his wits end. This made Monty pause, but only for a second before moving again with a raucous laugh.

“My profanity filter’s disabled too, dumbass; you don’t scare me!” His gaze dropped to Gregory, red eyes peering through his dark shades. “Get over here, little guy…”  

William knew he was in between a rock and a hard place now. He could push Monty off and choose to fight him, but that would give Michael the perfect opportunity to strike with his taser. If he attacked Michael in the hopes that Monty would pull back to help his “friend,” he risked leaving Henry and Gregory open for attack…

It was too late; the choice was being made for him. The once-passive bunny lurched forward to give Monty a hard push at his shoulders, aiming to knock him into Michael with the hopes of incapacitating him long enough for their escape. Paws collided with thick shoulder pads as William forced his limbs to move unaided by long-rusted mechanisms.

Gregory couldn’t bear to watch it all; he yelled and buried his face into the disgusting fur-suit holding him protectively. “NO! I don’t want to go!”

Michael was expecting something to snap the tension like a twig, so he was able to avoid Monty ramming into him when shoved back by William’s surprise attack. He had to jump out of the way though, which gave Henry just enough time to snatch Gregory up and book it. They rushed through the kitchens, out into the main atrium where they could head for—

There was a snarl to Henry’s left, and he only had a split-second to react before a lightning-fast grey and red blur slammed into his side. With a shout Henry practically threw Gregory into the air, not wanting to crush the poor kid as he went down heavily on his stomach.

Damn these old suits—they were so much more effort to maneuver than the sleek Glamrocks.

“N-No—no, Gregory, run!” Henry yelled, trying to shove off the wolf who was doing her best to rend his suit to pieces with her sharp claws.

But it was too late.

Before the kid could even think about abandoning his guardians, there was a fizzle of electricity and Gregory crashed onto the floor in a heap. Michael stood above him, a sneer on his face as the taser crackled in his hand.

“You fucking bastard!” Henry shrieked, painstakingly trying to right himself. Michael let out a short laugh and hooked the weapon back into his belt.

“I didn’t kill him, relax,” the zombie said with a roll of his eyes, bending down to pick Gregory up and roughly throw the kid over his shoulder. “He’s just taking a nap. No time to chat, though; we’ve got things to do. See you around!”  

Giving the old bear a jaunty salute, Michael turned and sped off towards the Fazerblast office with his prize, leaving Henry on the floor trying vainly to fight off Roxy. He could hear Will still struggling with the huge gator inside the kitchen, and it sounded like Monty was winning. Henry could help, get them both free so they could find Gregory together…

But just when Henry thought he might be getting the upper hand, Chica appeared and forced him back into submission on the floor. With a deep, gut-wrenching drop in the pit of his stomach, Henry realized they might have lost yet another child to Michael Afton’s madness.

Gregory didn’t even know what happened. The pain from the taser left him blacking out as soon as the metal barbs shot into his skin. Now in the not so gentle caress of Michael’s shoulder, he slept with his startling silver eyes open at attention. It left him staring blankly after his friends—those who still fought to get him back.

“MICHAEL! Don’t do this!” William called, his fists locked with Monty’s as the gator set on bending his wrists back. He wasn’t going to be enough—William did his best to plant his feet as Gregory and his son vanished from sight.

“Gregory!” he called pitifully, glancing sidelong to see the state of Henry being shredded by Roxy’s claws. It was then when he saw his former best friend being dismantled before his eyes that William’s courage wavered. He was pushed onto his back, now parallel to Henry on the ground.

They might not make it out of this one unscathed…

***

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Looking for more? Check out the Chapter Masterlist on Tumblr!

Or check out the entire Wires that Bind Us Series on ao3!

[tuiliel]

I’d like Banshee, Gothic, and Zombie please!

Whoops sorry, forgot about this! Was writing it elsewhere (so tumblr wouldn't eat it) and it got Long, so the rest is under the cut:

Banshee - Have you ever had a paranormal encounter? If so, do tell!

Hmmm... I spent a while debating if like, general witchy nonsense and pagan rituals that include possession "count" but I think I'll tell you about one "on purpose" thing and two that just happened to me?

On purpose: the deepest I've ever been possessed in ritual was the first time I sat my seidr guild's ritual to the Norns and I'd drawn the rune for Verdandi. For those unfamiliar, she's often considered the Norn of the constantly unfolding present (the others being the tapestry of the past and the future-in-flux; they are analogues to the Greek Fates). It was December 2019, and we asked about the illness just then being talked about in China, and the state of world affairs, and to those Big questions they had cutting advice, but that's not really the point here. It started as intentional trance, journeying to find and connect with an entity in a group ritual, but as it progressed, she began using my mouth to speak (instead of me relaying her words to the audience, which is more my usual) and using my arms to gesture (which had never happened to me before). At times she even spoke in unison with her sisters through the seers seated with me (who were both more experienced with possessory work than I was). But my experience of it was very much watching from some inside place, where I was seated by the Well of Wyrd, and Verdandi was reshaping my energetic body while she puppeted my physical one to speak to the room. I came out of that changed; it was something of an initiatory experience.

Accidental Thing The First requires the caveat that I had a new camera and I've always liked taking pictures of graveyards, but to set the scene: Be on your honeymoon! Notice a cute little graveyard with big oak trees. Decide there's definitely enough light left for good pictures. Make a little offering at the entrance and then go wild!

As I was taking photos, I came across a bunch of damaged headstones just sort of laid out in a line, and that was odd, and some of them were civil war era, which was not terribly surprising given the location (Shenandoah). Kind of a weird vibe, but I wasn't worried.

Until the sun abruptly went over the closest Appalachian peak and we were plunged into sudden darkness and the vibe changed, fast.

I'm a witch and sometimes that means I make good decisions and sometimes it means I'm foolhardy, and honestly this was the second one. I was ignoring all the pushes to leave and the rising angry vibe, still wanting to finish looking around, until I was standing near the edge of a drop off on one side of the graveyard, and felt something hit my back, hard enough that I stumbled. I felt it hit my personal shields too, and I do honestly think that without those it might've been strong enough to pitch me over the edge. While I probably wouldn't have died I definitely would have gotten very hurt, because it was like ten or twelve feet down, and there was some mangled chain link fencing and blacktop at the bottom. I regained my footing, though, and moved away quickly to find my newly-wedded spouse, who was easily more than 25 meters away (which I'm using as a measurement because I used to be a competitive swimmer and I'm very familiar with the distance across a pool), and very clearly could not have hit me. I was concerned about the angry spirit following us back to our cabin, so instead of leaving just then, I had my spouse reach out to the deep land spirits, the bedrock, to ask for calm (since that is his Schtick), and I sang two or three verses of Amazing Grace and promised to come back with more offerings in the daylight.

We made it out and back with no problems, purified ourselves with salt as best we could, set wards on the cabin, and slept fine with no interruptions. And then, as promised, in the morning we came back with coffee and tobacco and did a little trash pickup.

I'd like to go back and see if it has changed at all, and honestly I'd love to bring some kind of paranormal investigator with, because that is the first and only time I've been physically HIT like that.

Accidental Thing The Second is really more just a type of experience I've had basically my entire life - cats that Aren't Really There. I called them shadow cats when I was younger because a lot of them looked like living shadow (and they're not all housecats, I've seen things like panthers and lynxes too, but always felines for some reason), but as I've done more work with the Dead I'm seeing more and more what are pretty obviously just Dead Cats. I'm not sure why they congregate around me, but the one time I was actually living with a cat (my roommate had a grey long haired cat), I kept nearly tripping in my house, trying not to step on a cat that, in retrospect, I could have stepped right through. There was one grey cat in the house - no tabby, no calico, no white 🤣 They're usually friendly, even the wild ones and the shadow ones, so I don't mind them even if I'm not really sure why they're around.

Gothic - Who’s your favorite macabre figure from history?

Ooooh that's tricky. I think I'll give you three again 😂 (why are you making a nonbinary pansexual polyamorous person make that kind of choice, anyway, O List of Questions? Maybe I'll make my own where it's like "Favorite figure(s)" about everything, lol)

Francisco Goya - because holy fuck, his paintings. Literally if you're not familiar, go look them up.

Jack the Ripper - because it's just such a compelling mystery, isn't it? And the cops had no experience so it was handled poorly... Honestly it is so painful that we'll never really know and yet if I could go back in time with like, a kid's forensic kit, we'd probably be able to crack the case in a couple of weeks.

Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley - I mean, she's the original gothic dream girl, is she not?

Zombie - How long do you think you’d survive if a zombie apocalypse happened?

Oh damn so that depends what kind of zombies and how fast they spread and from where, LOL.

If I have time to get to some kind of safe stronghold and there's enough people to be a reasonable unit to defend ourselves, my friends say they'd let my disabled ass just stay inside and tend plants and crap because my knowledge of plant medicine and first aid would be useful. If they're some kind of supernatural thing, the witchy skills would be useful too.

But actually running? Having to kill them myself and relocate and just being constantly on the run with a small ragtag group and very few supplies? I'm probably dead the first time I faint, which is probably within the first two weeks.

Thanks for the ask! 😊

[semischarmed]

Detour, Part 4

Given your previous declaration of your intent to wear his skin, you release a bit of your hold over him to see his reaction. Scott, apparently unfazed, looks to the distance, no doubt planning an escape route. The guy isn’t stupid, so you try to make out his gameplan. You catch the briefest glimpse he takes of the patch of skin where the medallion used to be and you are immediately reminded of the moment of lost control of him in your possession of Alex. ‘Motherfucker. Of course he had a plan’. Despite the risk, you decide to proceed. Scott may have that bod, and his steel will, but that pales in comparison to the years of lust and envy brewing in you. ‘Fuck it, worse case scenario we accidentally give this egomaniac god-like power. What could go wrong? Might as well fuck with him a little’.

You mess with your body’s vocal cords to make sure both your old voice and Alex’s speak. With a unified moan you state “I can’t wait to take a Scottie joyride”. 

You say your part to Scott. “You know, even with how much of an asshole you were back then, I always masturbated , every night, to the fantasy of that thick horse dick ravaging me and shuddering inside my little body.” You chuckle. “Who could have known that in just a few short years, we could both be masturbating that thick horse dick together, to the reality of my little body shuddering inside you.”

Alex adds: “I’ve always wondered what it would feel like, moving around in that tower of muscle”. You lick your lips. “Besides, you have some pretty yoked friends, Scott. Well, since we’re gonna be parading your skin around, we have some pretty yoked friends. We can’t wait to use you, to use that thick horse dick of yours, to cum inside them, to inject them with a little Alex. But don’t worry, even when we get sick of wearing you, we’ll never really leave. We’re gonna fill you in so deep, you’ll never fully get us out. You’re gonna be our little Scottie fuck doll till the day you die.”

With Alex still in the driver’s seat, you walk toward your best friend. He makes you rub your chest a little. “The truth is, Scottie, he feels amazing inside me. I love him in here and I know he’s here to sta-ayy” Alex moans a little “God I love being his puppet. I can feel his strings all inside me, worming into me, slipping, writhing, controlling me.” The Alex-y you makes you show Scott your right hand for effect, which starts spasming unnaturally before you make a quick, veined fist. You chuckle at this attempt to scare him into submission but then begin to ponder if it would actually be possible to transform your entire body that way for the possession. You and Alex strip naked. You then start masturbating your shared body right in front of Scott, as he looks away in revulsion at the sight of his corrupted best friend furiously beating his meat. “Thank you for helping me find my soulmate Scott- well, my soul master. I can’t wait for my little strings to become your little strings” he pouts “Cmon Scott. You’re so cute when you’re angry.” “Hate me Scott! Hate your best friend! Hate the faggot from high school that’s inside him! I want you livid when we fill you up. I want you boiling. Your anger really gets me going. When we pilot you around, I’m gonna make you watch. I’m gonna make you watch the new faggot Scott, faggot you corrupting and controlling your own friends!“ When you finally release, you bring a little to your mouth for inspection.

“We taste even better than expected” you say, breathless, half moaning, “here try some.” you scoop up the rest and try to push it to Scott, who quickly turns to the side. It smears his cheek instead.

You lean your face right in front of Scott’s- till your foreheads touch- and run your Alex-y fingers gently through his sweaty hair. You take a deep inhale from you position. Subtle, musky, another scent you just can’t quite place, it’s altogether manly. He smells uniquely Scotty. You can’t wait till you also smell uniquely Scotty. You rest all of your sweaty naked body right on top of Scott, still facing him. He winces slightly at the additional weight.

“Get the fuck off me!”

Scott spits right at your face. You take a little taste. ”MMhmmmmmm, I cant wait to have all that running inside me, even your spit tastes good”. He grimaces in disgust. Using your power to mentally restrain his movements, you grab his neck and give it a squeeze to force his mouth open. You scoop the bit of the Alex cum on his cheek into his now gaping maw with your thumb. You corral the spit on your face earlier into your mouth and mix it with your own, which you spit back right at his mouth. “Here’s a little primer for what we’ll taste like when we become one” you say with a dirty wink. With your powers, you force him to swallow your new “together” potion. 

“You were always the grand prize“ you say, while you trace your fingers all over your soon-to-be body. “After I let you sell your friend out, did you really think I’d just leave you after that. This new me, Alex, he was just a little detour. How could I know he’d be this into it,” You run your fingers through your hair, “but, in the end, I have to thank you. We were important little detour because- [moan] he completes me” Alex delicately guides your fingers around Scott’s nipples. You tug on them to bring his sweaty chest to yours and in your dark embrace you whisper seductively in his ear “You’ll complete us too....” Scott shudders and you moan in fake disappointment, “you’re such a greedy little asshole, you know, you can’t keep all that man to yourself. We wanna have fun too. We can’t wait to get inside that Scottie party.”

With your newfound powers, you start liquefying parts of yourself, as scott watches in horror. You start with the arm- naked, pungent, sweaty skin become a noxious, sticky, amorphous mass. It’s a horrific sight, for sure, but it becomes even more horrific to Scott when you will your newly created slime to start moving. You make sure to give him a close up of the wriggling stringy fibers of yourself inside the goo.

At this point, Scott really starts panicking.

“Look man, I’m sorry! I know I shouldn’t have been such a piece of shit to you in High School. Please! Cmon! You already have Alex.” Son of a bitch! You knew it! Of course he still remembers you!

Caught and preoccupied in your transformation, Scott finds the power to push you off him several feet back. Adrenaline, no doubt, but the man is also pure muscle, so it’s no surprise. “Get the fuck off me! Don’t fucking go near me, you creep!”

“Oh Scott”, you moan his name in a mocking tone. “You are such a great friend. Give me a hug”. Slimy tendrils from your body shoot out force Scott back to your sweaty embrace. You shove your pits at his face. “Mmmmphh!” he shouts in disgust and nausea. You take another deep whiff of his sweaty chest and armpits. Intoxicatingly musky, and again, uniquely Scotty. “When I’m inside you, I’m gonna make you stinky like me” you laugh “we’re gonna smell great together. We’re gonna feel great together. And to your friends? We’re gonna taste great together,“ you exhale, as you lick your thick Alex-y lips and smile an out of place angelic smile.

“You’re never gonna fucking take me, asshole!” He shouts.

You ignore him as you continue your little monologue and start slithering in some of your fleshy mass into his mouth. “And don’t worry,” an unholy harmony of your old voice and Alex’s voice says, “We forgive you for high school. Well.... “. You now moan with a mix your old voice and some new borrowed Scott vocals that your parts have already claimed. “You’ll forgive you.” You now lodge his throat full of you as your liquid tendrils greedily rush down his throat. You want to give Scott the complete experience, so more of your slimy tendrils snake through his biceps and pits, around his vascular back and throat and start jamming straight into his asshole. He moans involuntarily as he feels your wriggling mass pass the g-spot into his prime real estate. As odd as it sounds coming out of him, he even sounds alpha when he moans. You make sure to keep this area stimulated, since you can no longer restrain his body mentally. To complete his Alex infestation, you start pumping his cock to loosen a passage for yourself and then feed more slime into his piss slit. This particular action causes his mouth to open even wider than before, which you use to stuff even more slime inside. 

Despite the raw pleasure he’s in and despite your mass still continually flowing into him, Scott stands and takes shaky steps toward the door. That iron will always did turn you on. You can’t wait to make it yours. You double your speed, and start writhing and twisting erratically as you continue to flow in. When it becomes clear that he is determined to continue, you start streaming into any entryway you can find. Every orifice, every hole in his body- even some small cuts he had on his arm- are flooded with your liquid. His towering form finally falls to the ground, unconscious from the effort he expended, while the last parts of you slip inside.

When Scott wakes, he immediately straightens up. He’s impossibly full, filled to the brim with you inside him, still squirming, slipping through his body parts rhythmically. A little dribbling of yourself spills out and oozes out of his mouth, but you quickly force it back inside him before he reach for it. He needs to take all of you. 

Your future face contorts into one of pain and struggle until it settles in into a scornful, hateful, contempt. ‘How much energy does this guy fucking have?’ you think in panic, as Scott roars and in one fell swoop, flexes all the thick muscles in his body to subjugate your mass. He still looks a little bloated, but the squirming inside him stops. He smirks as feels your powers flow through him. He investigates himself and the new control he has over body parts. He flexes his arms as he starts willing parts of his body to expand and constrict on command. Scott walks up to his mirror. “I told you you couldn’t fucking take me” he says with a smirk. If Alex was a sports car, sleek and smooth, Scott would be a fucking truck, and a massive one at that. The man exudes raw power so it’s no wonder you’re struggling reining him in. Before all hope is fully lost, you feel a spark in you.

“You’re right” Scott’s voice states, unprompted. The squirming and wriggling inside him starts up again and his eyes roll back. “It’s a good thing he took a little detour taking and corrupting my tight piece of ass,” Scott moans uncharacteristically. Scott’s beefy arms start fidgeting uncontrollably “because this...little Alex puppet is... gonna show his best friend how to be a little good meat-suit for his new m-master” he forces through Scott’s vocal cords. Scott’s whole body is now trembling uncontrollably. The writhing inside him has started up again, though this time far more energetic. It was coming from everywhere. He feels his fingers, his legs constrict and relax unnaturally. He screams as his body starts scratching himself everywhere erratically and convulsing, trying to get you out. But you’re in too deep. You’re in his veins, in his muscles, in every fiber of his being. Arms still twitching from the control Alex demands, Scott starts involuntarily pumping his meat. “FUUUUUuuuuCK!!!” he roars in his mix of ecstasy and struggle, before everything in him stops.

----------

Scott sits, unexpressive, motionless. Then, a bit of movement. The corners of his lips stretch slightly and upward into a deranged smile. You twist his nipples hard and do another uncharacteristic moan in amazement. Goddamn he’s sensitive. Raw ecstasy decorates his face- your face as you begin to explore the rest of you. You reward his body for yielding to you by finishing the job you started earlier and continue pumping his meat. You release in a maelstrom. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. In the midst of your orgasm, you feel your body puff and expand massively, impossibly, taut, as deep inside Scott you integrate the core of your being into him fully. You subjugate your new muscles and skin around yourself and force them to re-constrict around their new owner. Tighter. Tighter. You feel his muscles from inside him as you pull them ever tighter until the invisible barrier between you two tears and his hunky form coalesces into you. The Alex part of you forces Scott to smile through the process of his own takeover. “AAAARRRGGH!” Scott screams in one last shout of defiance as your insides and his finally become one. 

Your eyes go wide and start fluttering while you lick yourself clean. ‘mmmmmm fuck’ Of course it tastes fucking amazing, every piece of the new you is amazing. You flex your first of many trademark “he’s the shit-and he knows it-Scotty sneers,” this new face of yours exactly reflecting one you’ve seen a thousand times in high school torment. A face that Alex had never seen until now, on account of being his best friend. Finally, fully, Scott is yours. 

Then his vitality hits. Fuck. Pure power!! “MIIINE” You scream with your new vocal cords as you start punching the air with your power. You adopt a boxer’s stance and- left hook. Right hook. Fuck. With each strike you can feel your own force as this new body executes your every whim. “MIIIINE!” Raw testosterone, raw power. Goddamn. You rush over and start punching and slamming your new beefy hands on the floor maniacally, reveling in finally feeling what it must have felt like in high school from the other side. “MIIINE!” This new jock body is limitless. You run a sweaty hand on his dick, and unsurprisingly it hardens instantly on command. You furiously start masturbating again in a frenzy, if only to release some of his pent up power. “Mine.” As Scott, you have ascended. In Scott, you are a god. With this body, with this soul, you can do anything you fucking want.

You piece together an outfit out of the clothes strewn about the apartment: Alex’s dirty used underwear and his old shirt, which fit impossibly tight on you. Alex always did like to keep things a little tighter than they should be- well, he is you, so you do too and now Scott does as well. You slip your new vascular legs through Scott’s skinniest pair of jeans and your new beast arms through his leather jacket. You‘ve always fancied Alex-your scent so you want to make sure you imprint it into this Scott-bod you now have. Then again, people have pretty unique scents. With you inside Scott, you’re fairly certain this new Scott naturally emanates a noxious combination of both their scents. You don’t put any cologne or deodorant on- why would you ever try to diminish this proof of your dominance over their bodies. 

You check yourself in the mirror and give your nipples one delightful final little twist, your run your fingers through your hair, and give your new self one hell of a Scottie smile before you step out into the world, a new man henceforth.

-End Part 4- 

Whew, what a ride. Hope y’all had fun. Not really sure where else I could take this so this is the final part for now.

[gentrychild]

Naomasa just knew this was going to be an uncomfortable meeting. He knew the couple had separated long ago, he knew for the expressions in their faces that they did not want to see their ex, that they did not want to come to Japan, but he also knew to recognize tired faces when he watches them.

There were bags under their eyes, they seemed to be 10 years older than they really were, there was a solid sadness that time have only increased, and maybe, just maybe, they were hoping he was going to tell them something, anything about their missing baby that would bring relief to their souls, even if that something is that they have found his remains; how things have turned out like this? Even if they never see their kid again, he supposed they deserved to know.

He hoped they were doing the right thing.

Naomasa entered the room looking as proffesional as possible, and wearing his best cop smile.

"Good evening, I am Detective Tsukuachi Naomasa, and I will be the one bringing in the new information we have got about the case of your son".

Both parents' expressions changed to one you can only describe as anxiety, and fear, he was the one to break the ice first.

"Is my son dead, detective?"

Naomasa took a deep breath, God, how is he supposed to say this?

"Before I answer that question, please tell me everything that happened in the day of his dissapearance, it is very valuable information"

"Very valuable?! How that came be if my boy is dead!?!"

"Akira, please let me say this"

The woman, Ako, answered with a kind and tired voice.

"It was a winter day, my daughter, Kyoko and him went to visited a neighbor, when the time came for them to came home, he left my daughter sight for a moment, and then she never found him again"

"Is that all?"

" Is that all? Really? That's what you have to asked to me?! We looked for him everywhere! We went to the police, they used whole teams with more than 30 officers and dogs to find him, there were posters in the milk products, in the parks, in the schools, I even made a message in the web begging to the one who had taken him to give him back, we offered over a 1,000,000 dollars for any information, and no one at all presented anything about him, he have just vanished in the thin air"

"Well, this will not have happened if you were not so insistent about adopting a kid, Ako."

The silence rained the room

"WHAT?! You are still blaming me for this?"

" Face it! This will have never happened if you have not decided to play the good samarithan, adopting a kid from another country, and don't pretend I don't know why you did, it would have make you look so good in front of everyone to take in a poor orphan kid instead of getting pregnant again! Just so your 'precious' body does not suffer any more strain"

"Oh yeah? You were the one who was not satisfied with Kyoko and Hurato, I could see the dissapointment in your face since the day they were born, they were not what you wanted for kids, and was so anxious to take in someone else's to fill you never filling hole of greed"

"Please! Both of you, calm down, let's go back to the topic of discussion"

It took them a good couple of seconds but they were able to calm down enough

"We have reasons to believe, that your son was kidnapped for a villain. The biological father of your adoptive child, had, and still has a huge issue with a really dangerous villain, that's the main reason he was put in adoption, to protect him and give him a good life, but it seems those efforts backfired up"

"... are you saying, that they reason we divorced, that we lost our baby boy, that we spent the last 12 years in misery mourning him and fighting, to the point we can't stand each other... was for a grudge between a villain and a hero? Nothing else?"

Naomasa with a frowned expression closed his eyes. With a barely contained anger, though none of it directed to the couple say "the villain kidnapped your kid and trained him the last 12 years to become a villain himself, he did it knowing how much would hurt his father, we arrested your son 3 days ago and only found out about it shortly after his escape, I am sorry".

Tears were in the man's eyes, this was getting ugly.

"Well, while he is alive, everything can be fixed! Once you find him again, we can go into hiding into wherever you guys tell us to, we will be there to support him! We-"

"Sir, even if we find him, he is not going to be handed to you"

It was her turn to speak "why not? He must be around 16 years old by now! He is still a minor and we are his legal guardians! You said it yourself! He was kidnapped and manipulated to become a criminal, the law-"

"The law will ensure your protection lady, that villain has many associaties and no doubt, he will do anything to get you out of the picture, you already saw that getting your kid out of the continent did little good"

"But we are his guardians! What is going to happen to-"

"His father has the intention to take him back home"

"We are his home! His father signed in the adoption papers he did not want to know anything about him at all!!"

"Given the very particular circunstances, that has been arrenged, and once taken back into custody, he is going with his biological father; this meeting was never to inform you that he was going to come back to America with you, it was a simple courtesy about his future and how you can continue yours knowing he is alive and ok"

"Continue ours?!?! How the hell can you say that?! First you said that my adoptive dead son is not so dead, that the misery we went through was meaningless and the we will never see him again?! We are his family!!"

"I assure, he does not consider you as such, during the interrogation we questioned him about his feelings towards you and he stated in these exactly words: 'I never thought of them as my family'. I am sorry to be the one to bring such grave news, we wanted you to just know the truth".

Behind a special mirror, All Migth and Gran Torino, were seeing the now crying couple; Toshinori thougth 3 days ago that his heart have crumbled after seeing that postcard, he seems to have been wrong again, it keeping breaking.

" 'I never thought of them as my family?' Really?"

"It had to be said, if they have asked him back, I don't think I could have said no"

That was not what his son needed, no, he did not need adoptive families or a sociopath promising him love and acceptance, he had always need his father, with his flaws and everything else, and even if he could not change the past, he refused to let his son to be turned into a puppet for AFO. Even if he has lost him as a son, that did not mean he could not save him, he have to.

He will save Izuku.

Wow.

[fandoms-galore-yall]

MatachaBlossom as Gods Au pt 2

Greetings! This fic is based off the wonderful art of @shaky-mayhemm (Check it out here!)

This is pt 2, pt 1 is here

________

The plan, while requiring a lot of preparation, was fairly simple. Kojiro would pretend to be drunk and distract Ainosuke and Tadashi. Carla, in her invisible form, would gently guide Miya to a secluded area and Kaoru would talk to the boy. 

Since discovering Ainosuke’s intentions, Karou had been sending Carla to the boy’s town to get an idea of why he had caught the God of Destruction’s attention and how to help him get away. 

Karou hated to admit it, but he had felt uneasy every time she left his immediate area. Like a part of him was being cleaved. He had gotten used to always having Carla, if no one else, by his side.

While he didn’t say anything to Kojiro, the God of Earth hadn’t made any trips to Earth during the last few months before the festival and had spent every night that Carla was gone, with him, holding him and comforting him. 

It had been the only way Karou could sleep without Carla’s singing. 

He would be glad when this would be over, for many reasons. 

Though he supposed that having Kojiro’s voice lure him to slumber hadn’t been the worst thing. 

Still, he was worried about the plan. The thought of Ainosuke or Tadashi catching Carla in the act and then harming her terrified him. 

Furthermore, while he knew that Kojiro could take care of himself, he didn’t want him to get hurt ethier. Ainosuke couldn’t do anything to him physically during the festival but words can still cut even a God down. 

And perhaps, his biggest fear, was that he would fail in his role.

Ironically, despite being the God of Life, Karou was not the most comforting of Gods. 

Oh, he could play the part for a crowd of humans- a pretty shiny beautiful thing for them to admire from afar, never really seeing the truth behind the gentle smiles he wore as a mask.

But when faced with genuine feelings? 

Helping people with their emotional state? 

Well, his best was leading the person in distress to Kojiro and having the other God fix the problem. 

His worst was patting their shoulder, from a short distance away, and trying to make comforting sounds whenever Kojiro wasn’t available. 

Karou is big enough to admit that dealing with feelings isn’t his strong suit. 

Which is why he thinks it ludicrous that Kojiro had insisted it be him to talk to the young boy, Miya. 

Karou assumes it has more to do with Kojiro’s determination to keep his lover as far away from Ainosuke as possible than it is his faith in Karous's ability to handle the situation if Miya were to start crying. 

Karou sighed as Carla faded from his side, seemingly disappearing into the air around her. Karou could still sense her presence but no one else would be able to unless she meant for them to. 

As she got into position near Miya, Kojiro began to ‘drink’ heavily. 

Karou made his way to the gardens on the lower level of the grand palace made for the Gods when they weren’t in the Heavens. 

Carla began to gently pull at Miya’s sleeve to subtly lead him there as well. 

During Carla’s trips to Miya’s home town, she had learned that the boy loved animals which is why the God had borrowed one of the minor Gods Oka’s pet fox Sketchy for this conversion. 

He hoped that it would help distract the boy from any awkwardness that might come from having this conversation. 

Karou heard the boy enter and took a deep breath to calm his nerves. 

Miya took one look at who stood before him and breathed out, perhaps with relief? With wide eyes the boy stepped forward without fear.

“I thought you were going to be Lord Ainosuke”.

“Ah, so then he’s spoken to you about his intentions directly?”

“He has, Lord Karou.”

Karou wrinkled his nose. He normally didn’t react when humans used honorifics but for some reason, it bothered him, when this boy said it with no emotion whatsoever, face now blank. 

Karou hummed at his admission and then gestured for the boy to follow him. He did. 

Karou sat on a patch of grass, near a fountain, and placed Sketchy down on the grass for Miya to see. Previously hidden, bundled in a cloth, the boy lit up at seeing the fox before seeming to remember himself and schooling his features. 

“You may sit and pet him, if you are gentle with him.” Karou told him and Miya quickly walked over, sat, and began petting the fox. 

“You’re an intelligent boy,” Karou began, “I’m sure you know how most of Ainosuke’s disciples do not find their story to have a pleasant end?”

Miya’s shoulders were hunched in and his face hidden when he answered, “I do.”

“And you’re still interested in being his disciple?” 

“He said he’d grant me my wish.”

Karou hummed again, lost in thought. 

One of the reasons Ainosuke continued to get disciples, despite his reputation, was that he would grant wishes that no one else would.

Of course, it was rarely worth a year stuck under his thumb, but often greed or desperation blinded them to the warning signs. 

“I might be wrong, but I’m assuming your wish involves the boys who your parents think you’re with when you're not studying or practicing your future craft that you actually seem to avoid as much as possible?

Miya’s head shot up and he couldn’t mask the look of surprise on his face, “How...?”

“I’m no God of Knowledge or Wisdom but I am a Higher God. There is not much that mortals can hide from me.”

Miya narrowed his eyes, perhaps in suspicion but then caught himself and smoothed out his expression once more.

“Yes, that is correct.”

“How so?” 

Miya sighed. “I thought you already knew everything.”

“Not everything,” The God said as gently as he knew how. “I need you to fill in the final pieces.”

“They… We… They were my friends and then my parents started pushing me to be ‘perfect’ and so I was and they hated it and then they hated me… I just want my friends back…. I just don’t want to be alone anymore.”

Miya seemed surprised by his own honesty and his eyes started to tear up.

Karou silently cursed Kojiro and turned away to get control of himself. 

“Ainosuke won’t make the loneliness go away, not really.” Karou said in his softest tone. “He’ll spend the year breaking you down, then he’ll grant your wish, but he’ll do so in a way that is as twisted as him…”

Karou was silent for a moment as he thought about how Ainosuke would “solve” Miya’s problem and noticed how Miya refused to look his way when he turned to fully face the young boy. 

“He’ll probably make it so that your old friends are like puppets, they’ll act like they love you but there will be no life behind their eyes. Which isn’t really what you want, is it?”

“No,” Miya whispered, trying to hold back tears. Karou hoped he was being kind by not pointing it out. 

Miya buried his face in his hands and mumbled into them.

Karou raised an eyebrow with a gentle chide, “I’m not sure if I was supposed to understand that?”

Miya snuffed, raised his face just enough for his words to come out clear, “What do I do now?” 

“Well, to not offer yourself as a disciple at all would be one option.”

“My parents want me to.”

“Even if it were with The God of Destruction?”

“No risk, no reward.”

Karou hummed again, “Another option would be to join my or Kojiro’s service instead.” 

“The God of Earth?”

“Yes, he’s currently acting as a distraction so that we may have this conversation”  Karou explained.

Miya nodded, “And yours? You haven't taken a disciple in over three decades?”

“That’s true, but I would be willing to make an exception for you”.

Miya seemed angry with his response. “I don’t need your pity.”

The God sighed, “I apologize. I phrased that incorrectly. It would not be pity. I don’t need any disciples but I’ve seen you as you work on your craft. You are a talented young man, I’d be glad to have you in my service...

“Though, perhaps you would prefer Kojiro’s service instead? He tends to be better with” Karou waved his hand around, “people.” 

Miya giggled but tried to pretend he hadn’t when Karou glanced over. The God of Life gave him a small smile to let him know it was alright. 

“But most of all, whoever’s service you enter, our main concern is your safety. Even if you decide to serve Ainosuke you may come to us at any point, for help”.

Miya nodded, listening but clearly getting lost in his own thoughts. 

Karou stood, “The ceremony will begin soon.” Miya stood as well, and handed Sketchy over. 

Karou plucked a flower, from a nearby tree, and placed it in Miya’s hair.

The flower glowed for a moment, becoming a blessing from a God, “For safety and for luck.” Karou told Miya. 

Miya stood shocked for a moment before bowing to the God and exiting the Garden, once again led by Carla. 

Karou thought about the ceremony as he made his way to his throne. Each God had their own, where offerings were left and where any chosen disciples would go to after being taken into their God’s service. 

There were a couple ways one could offer themselves as a disciple. 

The first would be to offer themselves to any God. Any God interested would light a flame next to their throne, then if only one God had shown interest, the human would enter their service. If multiple had, either the human would choose which God to follow or sometime the other Gods would back down.

No God had ever fought over a disciple with Ainosuke before. If Miya opened himself up to any God’s service, he and Kijiro would be the first.

The second way was for the potential disciple to specifically offer their service to a select God or select few Gods. Then as before, if multiple of those Gods were interested the human would choose, unless any Gods backed down. 

Karou assumed that Miya would use the first method, he just hoped that the boy would choose Kojiro’s or less likely, his own service. 

He sat on his throne. Kojiro’s was right next to it.

The God of Earth looked over and Karou nodded, letting him know that the conversation had happened and that he thought it went well. 

Kojiro gave him a smile, the one that said he was proud of Karou. Karou scoffed and looked away. 

Kojiro’s response was to try and play footsie with him. Karou rolled his eyes, kicked at the other’s ankle, and ignored the other God’s pout. 

 Now really wasn’t the time. 

Karou allowed himself to be distracted, knowing Carla would let him know when the boy was up. 

Carla’s hand landed on his shoulder and he schooled his mind back into focus. 

Miya was walking up and a Minor God was listing off his accomplishments.

After that, the Minor God was supposed to immediately explain if any God could express their interest or if they were only hoping to serve a specific God or Gods. 

However, the Minor God frowned at the paper before him and Karou felt his heart sink.

Perhaps the conversation hadn’t gone well after all?

Kojiro took his hand and Karou held on tightly, allowing the other God to ground him.

“Miya Chinen offers his service to only one God…”

Karou stopped breathing and thought he might have heard Kojiro grunt from how hard he was holding onto the other’s hand but too much of his attention was on the Minor God speaking to truly notice.

“Karou, The God of Life”.

Karou let himself breathe again. 

The God of Life shifted so that his hair covered his face so that no one could see his amused grin. 

The boy was testing him, seeing if the God of Life was really in his corner. 

Normally, that would annoy him but...

Karou waved his hand, igniting the flame next to him, to let everyone know he had accepted the boy’s service. 

No risk, no reward indeed. 

From his peripheral vision he saw Kojiro shake his hand and stretch his finger now that they were no longer in Karou’s death grip. 

Miya, from the stage below them, bowed to him. 

I’m having a lot of fun with this story, so I’ll be adding more! 

Whatever Miya’s craft is I think will be the stand in for Skateboarding in this story.. which means I just have to figure out what his craft should be lol! 

Hope you all enjoyed! :D 

[shimmershae]

Some, okay a lot, of pre-mid season (tri? season) finale thoughts.  As if you actually asked for them, lol.

And no, I haven’t actually watched the last episode yet.  I’ve been putting it off all morning.  For reasons.  Reasons that I felt the inexplicable need to put on paper, er, screen.  

If you care at all to read the purging of my fatigued TWD fangirl mind, please look beneath the cut.  Fair warning.  It’s long so pull up a chair maybe, lol.  

I’ll admit it.  The spoilers indicating a significant lack of Carol/Melissa content has dampened much of my enthusiasm and there wasn’t all that much to start with.  

Let me tell you why--

The season, so far, has been woefully unbalanced in favor of the Reaper storyline and the Maggie/Negan conflict (which ties back to the Reaper storyline by the flimsiest of strings) and I’m just not invested.  

Why?  

Well, it’s multifold.  

#1 reason why?  Having a third of the last season ever of TWD devoted to going inside “the lions’ den” of villains I have no emotional connection to or curiosity about is a big fat fail.  

You might say “but there’s the Daryl double agent” aspect and I say “so fucking what” because it was so poorly conceived and has felt like such a WTF set of fraying puppet strings for this plot Angela was apparently jonesing to tell from the GO, damn the torpedoes she had to know where inevitably coming her way.  

Seriously.  I had talked myself into accepting that which I could not change, citing Daryl’s emotional brokenness after Rick.  Convincing myself he’d lost his anchor to goodness and hope and fulfillment in his years of self-imposed exile from Carol and what was left of his family and to a certain extent?  I can still by that explanation.  But really.  It’s the Leah of it all.  

Let me attempt to explain.  

To do that, maybe I should detail how I’ve always perceived Daryl.  

Daryl, IMHO, began this journey with us and the rest of Team Family with a figurative fortress erected around his true, core self.  

He was prickly.  Defensive to any overtures of kindness because he inherently did not trust them.  Loathe to form any real connection to anyone other than Merle, his blood.  

Daryl balked at the possibility of emotional connection and flinched in learned fear from physical touch.  

He did not recognize or accept affection or respect at face value because it was something rarely shown to him before.  

Anybody else remember that childhood abuse book from Consumed?  You know.  One of those first times the showrunners/writers dumped a character nugget in our laps and left it to us to do all the backstory in our own imaginations so they didn’t have to enrich their own characters beyond the scratch and sniff, wham bam this is who they are work?  

Anyway.  We were left to extrapolate from that what most of us h ad already suspected--that Daryl’s formative years were already a living hell before the ZA ever happened.  

So he was standoffish.  He didn’t form emotional connections lightly and physical intimacy was something light years out of his comfort zone.  

Until Carol.  

Daryl’s defenses started to crumble from the very start with Carol because she piqued his interest.  He looked at her, watched her withstand Ed’s abuse, and recognized something of himself.  

Against his will, Daryl started to care and when Carol lost the one good thing that had come out of her miserable life with Ed--Sophia--Daryl’s core identity started to be revealed to us and probably?  To himself after burying it so deep for so long.  

Long story short?  Daryl connected with Carol pretty quickly on a base level through the trauma of Sophia’s loss.  

The real connection, the emotional work it too to peel all those protective layers away took more like--like planting a flower from seed and tending it to help it survive and flourish.  

Simply said?  The work was put in and Daryl bloomed with Carol’s (and Team Family’s) care.  They all put in varying degrees of work but Carol planted the seed of his “belonging.”  

And the thing about Daryl?  Once he bloomed?  He grew strong.  He stretched toward the sun.  

He and Carol essentially bloomed and fought their way toward the sunlight together.  

And little by little, Daryl learned to accept the kindness, trust, and love he always deserved.  

From that newly confident man emerged a Daryl not so fearful of forming connections and none have ever been more powerful than his connection to Carol.  

I’ll spare ya’ll the paragraphs of how Daryl and Carol gravitated toward each other like magnets no matter the means of separation.  

I’ll just spell it out like this:  their bond supersedes all others, even Daryl’s bond with Rick.  And with Daryl only accepting affection from those he trusts implicitly, Carol and Daryl have been the only potential “romantic” pairing that has ever fully made sense for his established character.  

At least the character before Angela launched the grenade of Leah into the mix.  

Leah was a fail from the start.  

And you know what?  I’m thinking that was largely intended (for various reasons) but I still think they could have shown Daryl as receptive to having a “romantic” relationship to those willfully blind to the possibility that he’s actually been in a “romantic” relationship with Carol since Season 2.  Never mind that Carol and Daryl haven’t (yet) crossed certain physical boundaries yet.  Emotionally? They are already there even if neither is able to admit it out loud with the actual words yet.  But I digress.  The people that never wanted to “see” Carol and Daryl as “romantic” because they couldn’t fathom Daryl as seeing Carol in that light had already deemed that Daryl just didn’t feel that way about her, that maybe he didn’t feel that way about anybody (if they couldn’t have their way and have him feel that way about their preferred choice for him, they preferred him alone), and Angela wanted to show them differently.  To show them the light.  

That said, if Angela was so hellbent on doing Leah?  There were a multitude of better ways.  

Here.  I’ll give you one of them.  

Daryl isolates himself from his family after Rick’s “death” same as he did in Angela’s version.  

Carol’s been being pulled more and more to the Kingdom because Henry’s needing a mother figure is like catnip to her hurting natural-born, hurting Mama’s heart.  So Daryl’s anchor to the man he’d matured into, the one with all these earned emotional attachments, is reeled back in, little by little, leaving him unmoored.  

Dog literally runs into him just as before.  It hardly makes sense given how young and floppy and uncoordinated puppies are and thus vulnerable to danger, but this is the least of things we need to worry about suspending disbelief for right?  ;)

Dog and Daryl continue to have these run ins until Daryl decides to retrace the puppy’s clumsy trail and viola!  He finds Leah’s cabin and Leah inside.  She levels the same shotgun at him, they have a standoff, until---

Leah suddenly lowers the gun and incredulously says Daryl’s name.  

That’s right.  One simple change and Daryl and Leah have an undefined past already.  

Daryl doesn’t completely let his guard down because he’s Daryl, but he relaxes enough that we see he doesn’t immediately regard Leah as dangerious to his own well-being.  

From that point on, instead of tying Daryl up and threatening him, we could have been told the story of how they knew each other from before.  

My version goes a little something like this--

Daryl met Leah through Merle.  Merle, in turn, met Leah through the military before he got discharged.  He and Leah had an ongoing “I scratch your itch if you scratch mine” thing and Leah?  Well, she always had a bit of a soft spot/interest in Daryl that Daryl never really returned.  

The thing is, though?  With losing the chosen brother that filled the hole left behind by his lost blood brother Merle and losing Carol to her chasing after a chance of a new family (because she feels Daryl’s out of her reach too, our too blind and stupidly, silently in love idiots)?  Daryl finds himself embracing the shared memories however minimal of that brief past and his grief and loneliness leave him receptive to Leah’s eventual advances in ways he never was before.  

We’re still given hints of their unfolding relationship and we still don’t like it, but it makes more sense for Daryl to cling to the past when he feels he’s lost his future.  

Leah still gives her ultimatum (there’s a reason she gravitated toward Merle in perhaps his most toxic state, she’s more than a little fucked up too) and it’s not as much of a hard sell that Daryl might be pulled in Leah’s direction when he feels Carol is all but lost to him.  

Hell.  They could have even explicitly discussed Carol.  But wait!  Angela would have never allowed that because she doesn’t want to shatter all the crackship dreams in one fell swoop.  

But the story from that point on could have continued just as it has and probably I still wouldn’t have liked it but I could have at least bought it somewhat and understood it.  

Obviously, it didn’t. 

I don’t buy the Leah of it all.  Angela built that “relationship” with monopoly money and it shows.  

Because I don’t buy Leah period.  I don’t buy Daryl giving even giving a shit about trying to or feeling like there’s a snowball’s chance to redeem her so I’m not engaged whatsoever with this Daryl double agent story and him even givign her crumbs about his real family.  

That part rings false.  

So that’s a big problem right there and we haven’t even gotten to the other part I don’t buy.  

You know what else I don’t buy?  

#2?  

Why the hell are the Reapers so bloodthirsty for Maggie’s departure from this mortal coil?  

Without giving better reasoning than they’re just cray-cray, the entire faceplants and considering it’s taken up about 70% of 11A’s focus?  I’m pissed.  

Because, IMHO, they should go big or go home on this to give it any entertainment value because it’s all stale, recycled air if not.  

Maggie’s been established as a much darker character this season.  Which led me to believer the Reapers probably had a legit beef against her, but it seems Angela is reluctant to go all that way down the rabbit hole and doesn’t want to commit to what could be a more entertaining and potentially fascinating story than just Maggie’s in the right, the Reapers are just evil.  

Maggie is right about Negan, IMHO, but she’s also wrong in not listening to him when what he’s saying reeks of simple common sense.  Ignoring sage advice makes her seem more like an angry toddler stamping her feet in defiance than the leader they are so bound and determined to tell us she is.  

You know what?  The window for me to give more than the half a fuck I’m giving right now as they beat this dead horse to dust closed when Maggie decided letting Negan rot in the ASZ jail cell was enough and spared him when she finally had her best chance to end him once and for all.  

Maybe if they stopped having the same damn conversation and they didn’t take up 20% of the screen time left after the boring Reapers/Leah shit, I would be less resentful but I’m not and again, I’ll tell you why.  

BECAUSE.  We are in the last season of the OG TWD ever and this show has chosen to waste screen time on stories nobody cares about to the exclusion of the ones we’re yearning for more of.  

Like ASZ.  We’ve barely seen more than an hour of the eight hours devoted to Carol, Aaron, Rosita, Lydia, Judith, Kelly, Jerry and Co. in total.  Especially since they’ve been trying to establish the Commonwealth on the side, too.  

I mean, I never really expected to dig the Commonwealth so my expectations for it were lower than low so they’ve been exceeded at a miniscule level.  But I expected and hoped for ASZ and those characters we’ve cared the most about to receive much more emphasis and the fact that they haven’t in this last season so far has been the biggest FAIL.  

And okay.  Selfishly, I want more Carol.  She’s like salt.  She makes almost everything go down better.  

But really. Give me more of all the characters we actually care about, please.  The Reapers and the offshoots from that story wheel aren’t it.  I love Daryl but I hate this retread story for him.  Leah is a weak point that pressed upon?  Makes this weak ass arc collapse.  Maggie and Negan are giving us nothing new.  They are the definition of the word STALEMATE and that’s not what you want or need on the finale season of a show.  

Yes, I have enjoyed the majority of the episodes overall, but that was because the moments I loved I weighted more than the ones I didn’t and know they have the most impact on the show down the road.  

Probably 11A will fare better when all is said and done and the show can be binged but standalone?  It’s been an overall disappointment and that saddens me more than I can say.  

Anyway.  I’m going to stop rambling now and try to psyche myself up for episode 8.  I’ll be back with thoughts on it later, maybe.  

Sorry for the word vomit, but I felt maybe I could in someway give voice to some of the feelings floating around out there and let you know that you are not alone.  

Until later, lovelies.  

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

NEVER WAS THERE A TALE OF MORE WOE, THAN THAT OF OUR JEANNE AND FANGDADDIO 😭😭😭

But alas, I will relay what I read back in the day to the best of my abilities! Spoilers for the end of Jeanne’s route under the cut, rated E (for everyone) for maximum uwus (and M for angst bc F U C K):

Okay so basically Jeanne’s route goes a lot like most of the routes, and when MC gets attacked (by the rival vampire turned by Vlad) our eyepatched wonder is not happy about it. He storms over to Comte’s room and demands to have his questions answered. Comte notes how deathly serious he is and breezes past the enmity, telling him to go ahead and ask whatever he needs to. Jeanne threatens to kill Comte if it turns out that he’s lying about anything from this point forward. To which Comte (being a little shit), replies that he literally can’t die so like ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Jeanne tells him he doesn’t care what it takes; he’ll rend him apart to the tiniest shred over and over and over again--even if it takes them both to the other side to accomplish it. Comte concedes and says “very well; if I lie, you’re welcome to try.” Jeanne finally asks if Comte has made a revival pact with anyone new. Comte is genuinely confused and confesses that he hasn’t--that he has no idea who Jeanne is talking about. “What ‘comrade in arms’???” Jeanne seems to sense that Comte is responding in earnest (but is also confused bc like, then who the fuck else turned the guy??? WHO IS THE THREAT I MUST STAB)

Jeanne admits that MC was attacked and you can feel the change in gravity in milliseconds. Comte starts asking where she is and if she’s okay, and Jeanne explains that she’s still in the mansion and she’s fine. Jeanne then asks if Shakespeare has the ability to turn people like he does, and Comte is bewildered to put it mildly. He’s like ??????? Where is this coming from, of course he doesn’t???? I turned him myself, he’s a lesser vampire--he doesn’t have that ability???? In a moment of sheer livid impatience, Jeanne grabs Comte by the lapels and screams “Then who can!?!?!?!” Comte stares at him and admits that there are only two people that he is aware of who can accomplish such a thing, himself and someone else. They hear a loud crash and they run to the dining room, only to find a window smashed, Mozart wounded, and MC gone. Comte’s furious sprite appears, and he asks Jeanne to look after MC, he has something to take care of. Isaac asks him where on earth he’s going, and he reveals that he’s going to Will’s house before storming out.

Poor Shakespeare faces the brunt of Comte’s rage--though I get the feeling, knowing now that Shakespeare is Vlad’s puppet--that the threat was meant more for Vlad than for Shakey boy. Comte goes to Shakey’s place and Shakespeare offers to put on tea or wine, says it’s strange for him to appear so late. Comte tells him not to bother, since he isn’t here to exchange pleasantries. Shakespeare seems p shocked given Comte isn’t usually one to be so direct or terse, and when Comte walks in he backs Shakespeare into the wall step. By step. By step. He asks him if he was involved in the harm done to MC, and Shakespeare’s like “Yeah lol what’s it to you.” And when their shoes are nearly touching, Comte grabs him by the throat and lifts him off the ground. He tells Shakespeare that if this goes on, he won’t show any mercy: "To those that would harm a single member of my house, I will hunt them to the ends of the earth. To the very depths of hell." The narration notes that he lets go of whatever dampens his pureblood aura and nearly suffocates Shakespeare with his raw intensity and power, before putting him down again and saying “That’s all I have to say. I have no more questions for you.” Comte walks right back out, slamming the door while Shakespeare is on the floor coughing. 

So, needless to say, things are hella rocky between Comte and Jeanne throughout the better part of the route. But given the odd dichotomy of Comte’s reactions (his complete acceptance of Jeanne’s fury versus his own anger being directed at Vlad), it definitely felt like there was more there. Everything finally comes full circle at the end when Comte gathers everyone inside the dining room to explain precisely what happened (Vlad, etc. I’m assuming) and asks everyone to take proper precautions moving forward: "I'll take steps to make sure this never happens again. But if we are faced with a similar situation, know that I am prepared to protect you all with every fiber of my being." He deems secrecy a moot point given this incident, and just wants everyone to be safe and ask for help should they need it in the future. 

MC notes that he doesn’t have his usual placid demeanor; he’s incredibly serious and grave. She’s like “Oh boy some serious shit went down huh...but if anything, I feel like it’s only made us have more faith in his ability to protect us c:” AND HERE IS WHERE THE BIG HURT HAPPENS KIDS GET YOUR TISSUES AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Jeanne: "...Alright. I will trust in your words. But can I ask just one thing?” Comte: “Yes, Jeanne?” Jeanne: "You know I always hated you, I truly believed you revived me against my will for a long time." Comte just sorta deflates, but he doesn’t say anything (MY POOR BABIE) Jeanne: "But, is that really the case? Did I want to live on, away from that pyre...?" [There was a long silence.] Comte: “...That day, when I appeared, you screamed desperately 'Why must I die here. Whether it be God or the devil, someone make use of me!'” Important note: Jeanne tells MC that he is able to recall thinking that, but he has no acute recollection of saying it; this is the moment at which he lost consciousness. MC: [;-; No matter how hard he tried to stifle it, it (his deep wish to live) came out all the same...] I wasn’t able to transcribe it, but Comte essentially tells him that he tried to ask Jeanne, but he was already barely hanging on--there was no way he could get a proper answer. (This is highly plausible given we know that Jeanne was incarcerated by the Inquisition, tortured, and starved before he was tied to that pyre--it was a miracle he lasted that long. He didn’t even have the strength to move/struggle from where he was tied). Comte goes on to say that Jeanne was pissed to shit when he woke up and there was little he could do to alleviate that (I mean given he was waiting for the sweet release of death it makes sense but also N O ;-;). For a while Jeanne just stares at him before asking: Jeanne: “...Why? Why didn’t you tell me after all this time?” Comte: "Because I thought it was okay if you berated me a little." Jeanne (vine voice: AMERICA EXPLAIN): ?????????? Comte: "Despite being alive...you looked dead to the world ever since the day we met. No matter how hard I tried or whatever I did, I couldn't seem to change that. But...the only emotion I seemed to be able to draw out of you was hate. If hatred was the only thing that could move you, I figured I'd take on that role. Better to see you express something than to see you lifeless beyond any glimmer of hope or change." Jeanne: "Why....why would you go that far?? Why did you bother? I don't...understand" BECAUSE HE HAS SO MUCH LOVE TO GIVE AND HE LOVES YOU I’M SOBBING ALL OVER AGAIN OKAY DEEP BREATHS THE SHOW MUST GO ON MINNIE Comte: "Because I'm the one that revived you...because to me, you're all my precious family." Jeanne: "...............................................................I...I'm sorry" AND JEANNE HANGS HIS HEAD WAAAAAAAAAAAH Comte’s brows rise: “...Jeanne?” Jeanne: "I know an apology doesn't forgive everything I did/said. But I don't know how else to make amends"

It goes on to show them all making amends, and while Jeanne can sometimes be like “ughghhghgh d a d stop nagging I’m fINE” he secretly really loves the guy. In Jeanne’s third bday story he’s literally like [Comte’s a weirdo but I see now that that's just how he cares abt me. He's not just worldly, he's a good guy. c: I just don’t care abt whatever he’s going on abt rn]

So like full disclosure before Jeanne’s route I still loved Comte but I really didn’t know much about him beyond the “eccentric nobleman persona.” Granted we definitely get glimpses into who he really is, but this was a sizeable breakthrough. (And probably a strong allusion to the release of Comte’s MS soon after.) That being said, there were so many things said here that just absolutely shattered my heart. 

Because here’s the thing. I have no qualms with Comte’s wish to be a dad--or even to revive the men, for that matter. If it makes him happy and he intends to take care of them reasonably well, then who am I to criticize him? (Fun fact: Leonardo essentially says the same exact thing; he’s more against it than I am because of the whole turning humans, but he doesn’t necessarily vilify Comte because he knows his intentions are good. And if everyone’s happy with it, what can he say?) But the fact that Comte handles their issues with so much patience and maturity...I’m in love???? There is sincerely nothing sexier than this for me. He’s fully aware that Jeanne was treated like absolute shit by the people he tried to protect, that he never really got to live for himself a single day in his life--never knew a moment’s peace, joy, or appreciation. He tries everything he can think of to get Jeanne to maybe not hate being alive as much, but fails at every turn. He still refuses to give up on the guy despite the less than ideal state of things, and decides that if Jeanne needs an enemy to survive--he will be that enemy. He doesn’t care that the guy he’s trying to help would skewer him the second he had his back turned (Jeanne pls this was a new suit couldn’t this wait). He takes full responsibility for deciding to turn him; knows that since he erred on the side of caution, it’s up to him to offer a life that’s worth keeping/staying alive for. He doesn’t belittle Jeanne’s plight for a moment, never deems him stupid or shortsighted. He’s able to understand that in the wake of so much pain and loss, of course Jeanne might not notice the finer points of Comte’s attempts to cheer him up. Even if it pains him to be on negative terms (HE LOVES HIS BOY HE DOESN’T WANT TO FIGHT) he will fully accept it if it brings Jeanne peace, if it helps Jeanne get to a place where he can begin to accept the affection he wants to offer.

And THAT’S what kills me, kids. Four hundred years, and Comte fucking LEARNED something. He is perceptive to uncanny degrees, and never fails to read a room in milliseconds; not only does he pick up on how people feel, he responds with appropriate, gentle measures. What I love so much about Comte is that he knows full well that genius does not come without its price. You could be the smartest person on earth, the most talented, whatever you choose to call it, but it will invite no shortage of hatred from other people, no shortage of misunderstanding and disdain and violence. If people don’t go mad with power, they are destroyed by the very places that birthed them. As such, the last thing he wants to do is put them under more pressure, or force them to do things against their will; he just wants to give them a chance to live beyond such fickle and hostile circumstances. And he takes this seriously, this isn’t remotely a whim for him despite all evidence to the contrary. He gets that healing takes time, and as much as he wants everyone to be happy he’s more than willing to give them space/resources to figure it out. Like. He is the father everybody DREAMS they had (if they didn’t already have a good one) and the fact that I can’t tell him what a wonderful job he’s doing is killing me on all levels INCLUDING physical.

And I just?????? Jeanne’s palpable remorse when he finds out????? And Comte’s surprise???????? Like Comte wasn’t necessarily expecting that level of apology, he knew he was taking a gamble and he was ready to do whatever he had to, he wasn’t intending to hold it against his boy. But Jeanne just has such a tender and well-meaning heart (no matter how much he struggles to express it) that regret was inevitable. There’s just so much love in that moment, in Comte’s capacity to forgive and take on so much of poor Jeanne’s unhappiness, and Jeanne’s fully ability to admit he was misguided, lower his head, and apologize. THEY JUST GET ME BLUBBERING LIKE A THREE YEAR OLD OKAY THEY ARE BOTH SO IMPORTANT TO ME AND I HURT

Tl;dr: JEANNE’S ROUTE SHOT ME FORTY-SEVEN TIMES IN THE CHEST AND LEFT ME PINING FOR COMTE MORE THAN EVER BEFORE OTL

Also a bonus, because it only just occurred to me (spoilers from the end of Comte’s route):

THEY HAVE A LEGIT REVERSAL AT THE END OF COMTE’S ROUTE???? Comte once again gathers everyone to reveal Vlad’s identity and intentions, and he apologizes for keeping it from everyone, lowering his head. He’s more than ready to face everyone’s ire for keeping secrets, but everyone’s just like “dad pls lift your head it’s okay, we’re just glad we can help you now--you don’t have to carry it all on your own.” AND IT IS IN FACT, JEANNE, THAT ALSO SAYS “No need to bow like that Comte, aren't you the one always saying we're family?" AND WHEN I TELL YOU I WAS IN A PUDDLE OF TEARS?????? I WILL NEVER BE OKAY. POOR COMTE WAS SO MOVED AND MY HEART CAN’T TAKE HAVING THIS KNOWLEDGE WHERE’S MY HANKIE. JEANNE. BEING THE ONE. TO SAY. “Aren’t we family?” WHEN HEARING HOW HARD COMTE WAS WORKING TO PROTECT THEM, BC HE 100% IDENTIFIES WITH THE STRUGGLE OF LOOKING AFTER PEOPLE THAT DON’T KNOW/CARE THAT SOMEBODY ELSE IS THE SACRIFICE FOR THEIR PEACE OF MIND. I--

WHAT IS IT THAT JEANNE AND COMTE SHARE TO THE CORE, SO MUCH THAT JEANNE WOULD NEED NO OTHER EXPLANATION TO CHANGE HIS MIND AFTER YEARS OF BITTER DISDAIN???????? THEIR CAPACITY FOR DEVOTION, THEIR EASY WILLINGNESS TO SACRIFICE ANYTHING TO PROTECT A LIFE. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA THIS EPIPHANY IS GOING TO BE THE DEATH OF ME

I’m crying rn I just: Comte: !!!!!!! Somebody who gets it!!! :DDD Jeanne: die. Comte:  Comte: ;-; understandable have a nice day

[maine-writes]

A New Challenger Has Appeared!

An older Connie and Steven led Vonvon, followed by their younger selves, back to the beach house. All the while, older Connie scolded her child for their barely thought out time adventure.

"Do you have any idea what you could've done?" she continued, her kid stubbornly pouting, "You could've messed up our timeline! What if you made yourself not exist?! Your father was extremely sensitive during this time, he could've been evil!"

"Now, hon-" older Steven began, but as he thought about it, it might not be such a good idea to interrupt Connie in the middle of a motherly panic.

"Okay, I get it mom." Vonvon said as they walked up the steps to the front door, "I'm sorry. I just wanted to see you guys when you were on your adventures. You guys just made it seem so cool."

Older Connie and Steven gave each other a worried look.

"Maybe we left out a few details." Steven admitted. "Some things you were better off not knowing."

"Like the time you got your Gem yanked out?" Vonvon asked, ignoring the fact that their father is still bothered by that event. "Or the realization that you broke every bone in your body throughout your childhood? Or the time you got sucked out into space? Or that time when you and Peridot were stuck deep underground? Or that time you had a near mental breakdown at the Stanford Hotel?"

"Ok, that's eno-...wait, the Stanford?" Steven said, wondering why he cannot remember the failed vacation at an alpine retreat.

"Now, where's the Hourglass?" older Connie asked. "We're going home."

"I threw it in the ocean." Vonvon sheepishly replied. Of course, their parents were far from enthusiastic about this.

"You...threw it..." Older Steven muttered.

"Into the ocean..." Older Connie finished as they both looked out at the vast stretch of water and said:

"Ah, beans."

They decided to postpone the recovery of the Hourglass until the next day, when they would recruit the Crystal Gems, who were staying at Little Homeworld for the annual "Surviving Earth" camping trip. For now, they would stay the night.

Younger Connie momentarily returned home to explain to her own parents that there was some weird Gem problem that needed her attention for the night. Surprisingly, although hesistant, they accepted this and allowed her to return to the beach house.

"Hey, I remember using that one when I was in college." Older Connie reminisced.

"What?" wondered her younger self. "Why?"

"Mom and Dad wanted to drop by." she continued. "But I hadn't seen Steven in a while, and he was in town, so-"

"S-So, anyways!" Older Steven interrupted, his cheeks flushed red. "We should probably head to bed, long day tomorrow! Have to explain everything to the Gems, but I'm sure Garnet's probably already told everyone not to panic."

And indeed, somewhere out in the middle of the woods, somewhere out in the middle of the state of Delmarva, the Crystal Gems and two dozen other Gems were sitting around a campfire, surrounded by an assortment of tents.

"By the way guys," Garnet began, stopping in the middle of her catchy campfire song, "Don't panic tomorrow. Especially you Pearl."

"What? Why would I panic?"

"Well-...Maybe it's better I don't explain."

But that may have only made it worse.

Meanwhile, save for the rhythmic rush of the waves, all was silent, and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a rat.

But then, a shifting shadow lurked behind the kitchen counter, peering over at the couch Vonvon was sleeping in, who was facing away from the middle of the room. Younger Connie and her future self were sleeping in Steven's bed, whilst young Steven, and his future self, were wrapped up in sleeping bags on the floor beside the bed.

The shadow loomed over Vonvon.

"Yes..." the sinister figure hissed, "Soon, all will be well..."

But when they gently turned the sleeping form, they found nothing but a crudely made dummy.

"What?"

"Judo Chop!" Vonvon screamed, striking the figure with a chop at the shoulder. The shadowy stranger grabbed Vonvon, pushing them to the ground.

"You fell for my Vonvon Clone Jutsu!" the child laughed mockingly. "My most powerful technique!"

The two struggled on the ground for a few seconds, the ruckus stirring the others awake. Someone flipped the light switch, filling the room with light.

To their surprise, on the floor, yanking at hair, kicking at shins, and gnawing on shirts, were two Vonvons. One was wearing Cookie Cat pajamas, of course, the other wore a pseudo-ninja outfit.

"Aha!" our Vonvon declared, "I knew it! There's always an evil twin! Let me guess, you're from the timeline where everyone's evil and you're here to replace me?"

"How did yo-?" Evil Vonvon began.

"I've been sleeping under the bed and leaving a dummy in my place for months now!"

Both versions of Steven and Connie looked over at Vonvon, wondering if that child is either insane or a genius.

Then Evil Vonvon looked at the older Steven and Connie, their little eyes beginning to water.

"Oh no." Vonvon, the one we know, said. "You're not evil, are you?"

"I'm from a timeline where I never knew my parents." They explained. "I was raised by a glowing pink version of Papa and Grandma and Grandpa."

"Aw man," Vonvon groaned, "You're not evil, you're just sad!"

"Well, there is a sort of evil timeline." Not-Evil Vonvon mentioned, "Except, its not me. It's a big pink version of Papa, and he's like the king of Homeworld."

"Wait, there's a timeline where I become evil?!" Young Steven panicked.

"Not evil, just Pink Diamond" Sad Vonvon explained.

"Why are you here?" young Connie asked.

"This Vonvon's time vacation opened a lot of timelines." Other Vonvon explained, "And I thought, since I'm here, I could replace them for a while until you find the Hourglass."

"But what if we found it tomorrow?" older Steven asked.

"Oh, you wouldn't." Alternate Vonvon said, pulling the device from their pocket. "I found it shortly after Vonvon threw it in the ocean. I was going to give it back after spending time with you."

"Wait, our kid's time travelling opened other timelines?" Older Connie wondered, "What exactly does that mean?"

"Other Vonvon's were able to get their hands on their Hourglasses." said the other Vonvon. "It's really complicated and doesn't make much sense."

"You met other me's?" Prime Vonvon asked.

"Yeah, there's one from a timeline where Papa never got the attention of the Diamonds." They said, producing a small scrapbook from another pocket. "There's a Vonvon who is wandering the timelines, they're giving out these scrapbooks that have pictures of their adventure."

As it turned out, there were over a dozen recorded timelines in the scrapbook. There was a Vonvon who was raised in Japan. Another who lived with the Gems in a similar situation as Steven in his younger days. There was even an insane Vonvon who only had a sock puppet as a companion and frequently broke out of the asylum to unleash chaos upon Beach City. That was the closest version of an Evil Vonvon.

"There's a Vonvon who only knew the Crystal Gems as parts of Gem Tech from the war." Other Vonvon explained. "They said that they looked into the future of our timelines with their Garnet machine. It all works out in the end. No big bad problems."

"None?" Future Connie and Steven asked.

"Apparently."

"See?" said Main Vonvon. "Everything works out in the end. It's the Will of the Force."

"Vonvon," Older Connie said. "The Will of the Force is just an excuse to explain away things that would've been too troublesome to explain."

"But since we're here." Older Steven said, placing his arm around his wife's shoulder. "Don't you think we deserve a vacation too? We could see the old sites, finally get some time to ourselves."

"But what about th-"

"We'll be in disguise. Besides, it might be fun."

Connie thought, and she thought. Perhaps it was time they had a break from the relentless demands of work.

This was the start of a wonderful vacation. A time vacation.

@artsycooky13

[a-student-out-of-time]

April Fools Special Review: Part 5

Twisted Metal

Of course, Session 2 hasn’t ended but even this session had a lot of growth for Hibiki. While she has more or less accepted the true nature of her sister, and has decided to payback the kindness and support she got into helping others, there is still doubt and regret within her mind. Though Hibiki’s career is currently over, she still wants to get back into music eventually once things die down but now on her terms and not what Kanade decided, and there is still a part of Hibiki that loves Kanade like a sister. We also see that people who brush off music like a certain 11037, earn her ire as seeing him low key seeing music as a ‘easy route’ irritated her enough to confront the Future Ultimate Baseball Star himself on the matter. Despite the serious risk of exposure that she could have had, Hibiki might have been wearing a disguise at the time but there was already a scare in Session 1 when a date between her and Hajime was interrupted by a /r/niceguy fan, Leon wouldn’t have been into Hibiki’s genre of music so he didn’t realise he was actually talking to Hibiki Otonokoji. However, he was appreciative of Hibiki’s advice on the matter, and given that Sayaka would be in his class, someone who Hibiki has great respect for, she would be able to set him straight on the matter. When Hajime and co go back to school for their second semester, Hibiki, living alone in Hajime’s house decides to make an announcement on Twitter.com that she is still alive and is busy trying to sort her life out, but will go back into music eventually. The response she got was overwhelming positive as all her fans are pleased to see her alive, some apologising to her for any mean comments they might have made about her in the past, and others said they were worried that Kanade might have killed her. This brought Hibiki to tears as it’s not just the love she gets from her friends and lovers, she’s also got support from her fanbase. Her new emotional maturity is put to the test when Hajime loses his second life because a certain controversial Neurologist decides to test his time travel theory by killing him and Umeko, and of course the pain and trauma that comes from seeing a beloved friend’s dead body and himself getting stabbed. I don’t think the old Hibiki would have been able to comfort Hajime but this new and improved Hibiki was definitely able to comfort and calm him down. She’s not 100% mature yet as at one point she offers to lose her virginity to him, and despite certain lemony Anons wanting to see some spicy action, Hajime was like ‘No, just no’ and stated that no sexual matters will take place until they become 18, which in Japan is the legal age of sexual consent, and protection will be used.

Hibiki’s new fighting prowess had two intense trials throughout Session 2. The first is in Hide and Seek when she had to fight against Monaca’s robots. While she had the option of either joining Chiaki’s group in stopping Monaca from aging herself to death, or joining Hajime’s group in taking down Genocider Syo, she decided that she didn’t want to take on another serial killer, especially after being told that unlike her sister, Genocider Syo actually has some teeth to her and not just that one sprite of hers, and besides, Monaca is hellbent on making herself a adult and given her prowess in robotics, the likelihood of Team Monaca having to fend off robots are high and that group didn’t have a lot of fighters on them. She was able to seriously do a number on the robots, seeing as Chiaki and Emma get seriously injured at various points, Sora is more or less nullified due to the Anti A.I. Black boxes and Kyoji isn’t really a fighter, making her the main fighter on the team. Though like everyone, she is angry that they failed and Monaca is now a biological teenager, though thankfully not that deformed or dead, and that Emma’s and Chiaki’s injuries were for nothing. This again also showed how much she matured as while angry about it, especially about the fact that the aged-up Monaca is again taller than her, cursing her to always be the shortest female, she didn’t get too angry about it as Monaca clearly regrets her decisions and it’s a product of being in a very unhealthy environment and now that she is under Kyoji’s care, it’s not going to happen anymore.

But of course, the biggest test for her was in Twisted Sister, when Kanade was released from prison by Juu and via the aid of a mysterious person who might be a time traveller but one with darker goals then Hajime and co, was giving serious weaponry, technology and combat prowess. With this she was able to tear a bloody path through the Hope’s Peak halls and decimate any Hope’s Peak people who gets in her way. Upon finding out that her sister has broken free from prison and is on her way to ‘reclaim’ her, Hibiki’s first thoughts was to get some armour and then charge in to attack Kanade and just in time as she managed to incapacitate a grief stricken and enraged Nikei, and had just recharged herself with some Red Bull X. Not only is Kanade her own twin sister who she has zigzagged between being utterly terrified of to blaming herself for the monster she turned out to be, but thanks to the upgrades she became an equal match to Hibiki. In addition, this also says a lot about Hibiki herself because Kanade had advanced weaponry, dosed up on an addictive that could kill sleep for a week, advanced armour AND was able to defeat Sonia, Akane, Nekomaru AND Peko who all ganged on her with little to no effort, and yes she had been weakened by Nikei beforehand but said addictive rendered most of his attacks moot point, and despite ALL of that, Hibiki was able to equal with her and eventually with the help of Hajime, finally defeat her. And I didn’t mention the ‘puppet state’ because she never not even once regressed back into that, more or less confirming that is dead. Then again, the ‘puppet state’ may have not that hard to break as Kanade’s main motive for killing Setsuka in SDRA2 is that she could have reversed all the damage that Kanade had done to Hibiki and years of hard work, gone within a few weeks or so. And our lovely ronin sword-wielding vocalist had about 3 months to break the ‘puppet state’. While Kanade’s rampage was eradicated thanks to the third reset, the first one done on purpose, even in the current timeline when Kanade gets beaten deathless, Hibiki was able to knock a gun from Kanade’s hand, throw tear gas in to blind her and direct the rest of Class 77-B, and Juzo, into piling on Kanade and knocking her out, this being the last time we see old Kanade.

But despite all the carnage and pain that Kanade dealt her, there is still a part of Hibiki that cares for her like a sister and wishes for the Kanade she thought she knew back. And she got her chance when Yasuke offered to mindwipe Kanade and turn her into a gentlehearted girl. While the QC were deeply divided on the issue, when Hibiki was offered her input, she said that she was conflicted. Part of her wanted her sister back and Yasuke could quite literally grant her deepest desire at that point, but she is also aware that this is a form of execution, as while physically Kanade is still alive the Kanade that had existed prior to this is dead and never coming back, hopefully. As she isn’t a thinker like some of the QC members and understands the deep moral and ethical divides between them, she decides to hold a vote and whatever wins is the one they go for. Of course, the readers voted for Kanade to be mindwiped, and thus Yasuke got to work remaking Kanade while Hibiki helped to round up the other criminals that got out. I’m not dwelling too much on this as we’ve seen Hibiki’s greatest physical feat already and if she could take out swabs of armed headmen to some traffickers, escaped convicts shouldn’t be hard to deal with. Once the carnage dies down and we move into the Twisted Sister Aftermath Arc, Hibiki is hit with immense guilt. While she is grateful for that the sister she thought she had is back, she also knows what had to be done to ensure this occurs. But now that Kanade is back, she could make amendments as she was a rotten sister to Kanade beforehand and now she could try to reconnect with her, preventing her monstrous self from resurfacing itself. Of course, she has to juggle being with Kanade with also being a member of the Cuddle Puddle and general hero work, but life is never dull when you are with the Quantum Crew.

[akp-1327]

dear diary // chapter one

Hi, everyone! This is the first chapter of the new series I’ve started. I hope you enjoy and stick around for future chapters! 💕

Find a series “description” and other detailing here!

Word Count: ~ 5.3k

(*) Warnings: none

July 16th, 2020

Dear Diary,

Nothing would make me happier than to visit the city. The bright lights, the busy streets, the shops, the smell of car exhaust. For all the wonders I’d discover, for all the opportunities I’d face. For the experience, for the fun.

Living in a small town is boring. It’s the same, day after day. Then as soon as you bat an eye, you’ve turned eighteen and have barely left the state. Some would call me a hobbit, some would call me lazy. But it’s hard to get out of town when your family can’t really leave because of their job and you’re too scared to learn how to drive.

The diner that my parents own is great; awesome pancakes, delicious milkshakes, and every single pie flavor you could ever imagine. It’s called the Golden Griddle and it’s located right in the heart of Cedar Cove, Oregon. You’d have to be blind to miss the sunny yellow paint (that’s ever so slowly chipping away, but don’t tell my dad) smeared on the bricks.

Anyway. I’m Charlotte, but you knew that already, didn’t you? Of course you did. Well, if you needed a reminder of my sob-worthy life story...my brother and I are adopted. But you probably remembered that, right? Wow, I need to stop ranting about how you probably remember me. You’re a literal book for God’s sake.

Wait; back on topic. I want to go to see the city. So badly. Oh, and have I mentioned that I got accepted into my dream school? New York University, here I come. How have I not written about that yet? Holy crap. NYU preparations have been coming along nicely. I already have half my room packed and almost all my dorm stuff that my mom insists on buying. My brother Henry, too. He’s going to Ohio State on a football scholarship and a desire to pursue athletic training. Big dreams!

Me, you ask? Good gracious, Diary, stop interrupting! (Oh boy, I’m talking to myself. Skye would laugh...). I’m pursuing acting and theater, of course. A major in drama and a minor in production. I’m chasing the sun here, okay? I am a future Broadway star and actress with dreams as far as the eye can see!

I am ecstatic to make the big move at the beginning of August. More updates to come. Sorry if this ending was abrupt. My dad made his famous chili tonight and I gotta go get it while it’s hot and before Henry inhales it all like the vacuum he is.

Yours, Charlotte :)

*

*

The faint, familiar smell of spices filled my senses as I put the old and tattered diary down. It was a gift I got years and years ago from a friend, but I never used it. May as well start before the wild ride of my new life starts, right?

I threw my blonde hair into a bun as I walked out of my room, avoiding boxes piled up high on the floor. Right as I stepped into the hallway, however, my foot met a ball of fluff curled right outside my doorway.

“Aw, Cooper,” I cooed, leaning down and scooping the little snowball I called a dog into my arms, cradling him close, “you’re missing all the food downstairs, buddy!”

A small whimper came from him as I made my way down the stairs. Henry was spread out on the couch and watching some sort of European soccer, er, football on the TV.

“Hey, just in time!” Henry smiled, waving me over to sit next to him. I obliged, setting Cooper down onto the floor and taking a seat next to him. 

...It was crazy how he was twice my size. And how I was the older one by three whole minutes.

“What’s up, Henry?” I asked, nudging his arm. A laugh escaped his throat as he gestured to the screen and unpaused the video (wait, it was paused this entire time?). I watched the screen to see a player get hit in the head with a soccer ball.

“Hah!” Henry laughed, his deep pitch echoing off the walls. I gasped and swatted his arm.

“Henry! Laughing at someone else’s pain is so rude! What if he got a concussion that ended his career?” I said, a twinge of amusement in my tone. All in all, I loved to see my brother get all flustered. He was such a goody-two-shoes that even something like this comment would make him blow a gasket--

“He’s laughing, sis. I don’t think the dude’s hurt.” Henry said, his tone smug. Maybe college was finally really going to his head.

I shook my head with both surprise and disappointment as I stood up, gesturing for the walking vacuum to follow suit. “C’mon, knucklehead. Dinner’s almost ready.”

We both walked into the kitchen to see the finishing arrangements being set up for dinner; Mom was retrieving bowls and utensils as Dad strained the water from the elbow macaroni at the sink.

“You two are in here early,” Mom teased, giving us a side glare as she placed the bowls and spoons on the counter, “what about?”

A sweet, innocent smile crossed my face as I batted my eyelashes at her. “It just smells so good that I couldn’t stay away!”

“I’ve heard that one before, you jest. Come get your bowls.” Mom chuckled, stepping away. Henry and I grabbed a bowl right as Dad turned to us.

“Get it while it’s hot!” Dad said, grabbing a bowl of his own. Henry and I both dove for the noodles and chili, somehow managing to get our servings without making a complete mess like we usually do. It’s crazy to think of how people mature over time...

The old seats at the table squeaked as we all sat down and started to dig into our chili. A comfortable silence blanketed the table and just as I got used to it, Mom broke it.

“So, you two have been packing, yes? Even the stuff you aren’t bringing?” Mom asked sweetly, dabbing a napkin at the corners of her mouth. She’d always been the politest one in the family; too bad no one else at the table had her mannerisms.

“My room is basically packed except for some of my clothes and books,” I said in between chews of the (extremely hot) chili in my mouth, “but otherwise I’m good.”

Henry nodded and pointed his thumb at me, his eyes never leaving his bowl. “Mhmm.”

“That’s great! Your flights leave in only a matter of days!” Dad cheered, giving Mom a high five. It was such a weird but common thing to see parents do: act like teenagers.

“You sound excited about that?” Henry questioned. I looked over to see half his bowl already gone. 

Mom heaved a sigh.

“We’re excited for you both to finally experience the world. We can’t wait for your lives to truly start!” Mom said, a smile encompassing her features. Her kind, brown eyes flitted between Henry and me.

“You two have the world at your fingertips,” Dad added, glancing at Mom. They shared a fond look. 

At that moment, for the briefest second, I wished that I had a connection like that; a soulmate, someone who you could spill your heart out to. Someone who you could love and be loved by. Someone who’d want nothing more than to see you happy. 

Also at that moment, I decided that I would make it a small goal of mine to make this wish come true during my time at NYU.

*

*

My blankets were soft around my legs as I sat propped up against my pillows. Leila and I had been talking on the phone all night. I felt like I was in that moment in Mean Girls where Gretchen was switching between Cady, Karen, and Regina. Except...I wasn’t switching between anyone at the moment. 

Leila Maciel is my best friend. She’s someone with a sarcastic personality and a snarky remark to anything. She’s as smart as a whip and could, without a doubt, put you in your place if you stepped out of line with her intimidating strength. Though, she also has a soft and caring side that she only reveals to those who she deems trustworthy. A confident, kind, and bold girl indeed. 

We’ve been friends for our entire high school careers, but it feels like I’ve known her my entire life.

During our freshman year, Leila was in an extremely toxic relationship. Her ex-girlfriend, a “sweet” but a rather manipulative girl, was to blame for our friendship. This girl, Sadie, ticked all of Leila’s boxes; beautiful, smart, compassionate, sweet... 

Remember that Leila and I had only known each other for a month at this point.

Leila and Sadie’s relationship was adorable from the outside. Both bright-eyed and bushy-tailed freshmen with hearts in their eyes. It was something you’d see in a more realistic version of High School Musical because let’s be real...those movies aren’t realistic. (I still love them, though!)

About a year into their relationship, though, Sadie transformed from sweet to sour. She used Leila to get what she wanted like she was her very own puppet. Her antics ranged from cheating on tests to almost stealing a designer handbag before I intervened. Then, like the cherry on top of this extremely nasty sundae, Sadie revealed that she cheated on Leila with a college girl for the majority of their relationship. Let’s just say that their relationship was terminated seconds after that bombshell blew up.

Leila was broken for months. She truly believed that she loved Sadie, but upon further examination, I found that Leila felt guilty whenever she had the opportunity to say no. It had never been any sort of love; it was an obligation. Also after that relationship, Leila decided that instead of focusing on liking girls, she’d be open and love anyone. She was sick of limits.

So, here we are today.

Now, as we talked on the phone, I thought about how she’d also be going to NYU, majoring in business. We were roommates! It was like a dream come true.

“Uh, Charlotte?” Leila asked with a laugh. “You alive?”

Reality snapped back into place as I blinked my eyes rapidly. “Oh, uh, yeah. What’d you say?”

“Did you buy a fan for our dorm?” Leila asked monotonously. This made me laugh for some odd reason. “Dear Lord, what’s so funny?”

Honestly, though. What was funny, Charlotte? One could say that I was losing my mind.

“I don’t know, spur of the moment? But otherwise, yes; I got the one you pointed out at Target.” I said, surprising myself with how even my voice sounded. A familiar hum came from the other end of the line in response.

“Cool. Then you’re all set to go for next week?” Leila asked, her voice making it sound like she was smiling. I laughed again and nodded to myself.

“Yes!” Was all I could say.

Leila’s sigh was so loud that I could swear that I felt her breath through the phone. “You’re not stressing out over this, are you?”

My eyes widened at her question. Was I stressing out about this? I’d been packing for days on end without breaks. I had folded, re-folded, and re-re-folded all of my clothes several times in my duffel bag. I had splurged on so many things, like that fan Leila mentioned, without a second thought. I don’t think I’ve had a proper shower in almost a week; I was too busy being a nervous wreck.

“Maybe a little bit, but not too much,” I responded, my tone a bit somber as I tried to conceal my lie. My fingers twirled the fringed fabric of my tie blanket around as I waited for Leila’s retort.

“Stressing out over this is like a circle, Charlotte. It’s pointless,” Leila said, her voice starting to reveal her exhaustion, “and you need to relax. We’ll be fine.”

Thoughts buzzed through my mind as I contemplated her words. Would we be fine? Is “fine” even the correct word to describe this situation? How about rephrasing the entire statement entirely by saying “there is a chance that we’ll survive, but it definitely ain’t high.”? That version was more accurate, in all honesty. Moving across the country for school didn’t sound like a situation that could only earn the word “fine”.

“Aren’t you worried, though? A big city, a new city, a scary city...we’re diving into the deep end here, Leila! We have no idea what the hell we’re doing!” I panicked, squeezing my eyes closed.

Now it was Leila’s turn to laugh uncontrollably. Though, hers was more of a witch’s cackle.

“Wow, okay. First of all, we’ll stick together. Second, not knowing what we’re doing is all apart of the college experience. We’ll seriously be okay if we stick together.” Leila assured, still laughing - she never was the sympathetic type in these types of situations.

“If you think so, then I guess I need to believe it.” I yawned, tucking myself further into my blankets. Leila broke out into a yawn as well, making me think that she was actually tired for once (the girl was the definition of a night owl).

“We should get some sleep. We’ll have plenty of time to talk later.” Leila stated. I could imagine her rolling her brown eyes at her own words. A laugh escaped me instead of the hum I intended on.

“Jesus, why do you keep laughing? Why do you have so much energy?” Leila groaned, making my laughter subside.

“I honestly don’t know, I’m a complete and utter mess. We’ll text tomorrow?” I suspired, resting my arm over my eyes to completely block out this embarrassing reality.

“You bet. Love you lots.” Leila said. Her declarations of love truly became more meaningful after that whole spectacle with Sadie. She had a ginormous heart of gold beneath that rough exterior.

“Love you more! Good night!” I said, hanging up after she murmured a farewell. I tossed my phone onto the soft fabric of my blanket and stared up at the ceiling, a nostalgic feeling washing over me. All of the nights during elementary school where I’d do this exact thing, except I would be thinking about my Barbie dolls or my recess adventures. Now, I thought about the future and what waited for me.

College better live up to its well-known reputation.

*

*

Before I could comprehend what was even happening, I was standing in the middle of Portland’s airport with the arms of my family around me. 

Days legitimately whizzed past with nothing short of a greeting. I mean, it was already August 4th...somehow.

“You have all your bags, right?” Dad asked, his voice wavering the slightest bit. I looked down at my belongings for the fourth time; a large duffel bag of clothes, a chest full of dorm stuff and personal items (including that stupid fan, yes), and a very large and heavy carry-on stuffed with all of my technology. And, for the fourth time, I confirmed that I had everything.

“It’s all here, Dad. For the last time.” I giggled, shaking my head. He could only respond with his usual eye roll and grin.

“What about Leila? Are you completely positive that she’s on your flight?” Mom asked, her eyes inspecting mine. A sigh freed itself from my lungs as I nodded.

“She’s already waiting for me by the baggage area, Mom. You even saw her when we walked in, remember?” I stated, returning her inspecting gaze as she fondly smiled in remembrance.

My hands were reaching down to pick up my bags before Henry lightly punched my shoulder. “Wait, whoa, where’s the love, sis?”

“It’s hiding from you,” I teased, punching his shoulder before I pulled him close for a tight hug, “I’m gonna miss you bunches, you know.”

Henry’s grip tightened before he pulled back to show me the tears in his eyes. I gave him a sad smile, knowing that familiar look in his eye; he agreed but didn’t want to admit it.

“Don’t worry, Henry. I’ll only be a call away if you ever need to talk to me,” I said, putting my hands on his shoulders, “and I’ll be a nine hours’ drive away if you ever need me in person.”

He cracked a smile that was identical to my own and let out a deep breath that turned into a shaky laugh.

“Shut up, midget. Go catch your flight.” Henry laughed, shaking his head to compose himself. His blonde hair was tucked away in a red hat with a big, fancy ‘O’ embroidered in gray and black on its face. My heart swelled with pride to see it, too.

“Ditto!” I laughed while reaching down to grab my bags. “Well, I ought to get going. Leila’s been waiting on me for a while”

“Travel safely and call us when you land, no matter the time!” Mom said, hugging Dad and pulling Henry close. My eyes burned with tears as I nodded.

“Can do,” I shakily breathed, “I love you guys.”

Mom blew kisses my way and Dad smiled. Even Henry gave me a rare, genuine grin. I waved, and with a final glance, turned around and headed to the gate that was just behind me without looking back.

The weight of the bags in my hands doubled with each step towards Leila. She was sitting in the waiting area, her bags all around her, scrolling through her phone. Her straight black shoulder length hair was accessorized with a jade green headband, matching her comfy outfit that consisted of a matching jade green tee and a pair of workout leggings.

“Took you long enough, you slowpoke!” Leila smiled, patting the blue seat next to her as she tucked her phone in her backpack. I dropped my bags in relief as I sat down next to her. “How emotional were your parents?”

“Enough to make me almost cry?” I laughed, wiping the wetness below my eyes. “Well, maybe I did cry a little.”

Leila laughed and wrapped her arm around my shoulder. “It doesn’t take much to make you cry, Charlotte. But I am beyond glad to see that you held in most of your alligator tears.”

We both laughed, though our laughter faded after about a minute, turning into a stressed silence...

“We’re really doing this, aren’t we?” I said while taking a deep breath. After almost a year of building up the nerves, the day was finally here.  College...adulthood...life...

Leila turned to me, her eyes showing the most vulnerability that I’ve ever seen in them, and took a deep breath with me. “We may be crazy, but at least we’re crazy together.”

*

*

Bag security was a surprising breeze; little to no lines and no troubles. The security guys even smiled at me. Talk about weird.

Waiting for the flight time was tiring. I did, however, get a text from Henry saying that he’d successfully reached his gate and would be taking off for Ohio at dusk. So that was at least something to keep me occupied for a good two minutes.

Another distraction was to play matchmaker with Leila. It was our favorite pastime in high school, so why not continue the tradition?

“Ooh, that business guy over there wearing the red tie, and...” Leila trailed off, scanning the rows of seats until her eyes focused on a woman talking animatedly on the phone only a few feet away, “her.”

“Wait, the Adrian Raines-looking guy paired with that preppy woman?” I asked, my eyes narrowing. Leila hummed with approval next to me, making me cringe immediately; why, and how, would that work? They were polar opposites!

“Leila, listen. He looks like the type of guy that’d bite your head off if you gave him the wrong coffee order and she looks like the type of girl to organize a charity event. It’s all in the eyes and the cheekbones, even the eyebrows.” I explained, shaking my head. Leila, however, disagreed like she always did.

“They’d balance each other out. He’d soften up and she’d harden up. It’s that simple! Plus, it helps that they’re both very attractive...” Leila smirked, her eyes examining them both with a wistful sigh.

“And they’re probably much older than us, so don’t even get ahead of yourself.” I sighed, rolling my eyes. “But back on topic. Are you talking about the whole ‘opposites attract’ lore? Because that’s just not...plausible. Maybe it is in the movies--”

Leila let out an exasperated breath that hindered the rest of my thought. “It is plausible, though! Just think about how you would feel in this situation. Would you want a guy who has a prickly exterior and a mushy-gushy heart?”

My heart started to palpitate as my hands started to sweat. I have learned to loathe Leila’s ‘boy talk’ because it’d always turn into her setting me up with guys that were either way out of my league or guys that just didn’t meet my expectations.

Her question, though, did deserve some deep thought. I guess I can set my pride aside for a mere second and give her some sort of approbation...

So, the question on the table: did I really have a thing for those types of people? Snarky but also impossibly soft? I guess I’ve never really been invested in relationships of my own. The idea of romance, sure, but not for me. It just never really seemed as important as the ACT or my GPA. I’m starting to regret my valedictorian title; I focused so hard on my studies that I forgot about the fun aspect of high school like the average, rebellious boyfriend with a leather coat and a motorcycle.

“You know what, Leila?” I started, carefully testing this ground as to not lead her down the matchmaking rabbit hole, “I would like a guy like that. A sarcastic and snarky guy with a secret soft side? Yes, please. Oh, and glasses that he’d push up his nose when he was frustrated? Even better.”

An uncharacteristic snicker escaped Leila; she was never one to snicker like that, and now that I actually think about it, our boy talk always had that stereotypical effect on her. Man, this hobby was melting her brain. Is there any research out there on how the quietest whisper of romance can turn the human brain to goo? If so, I need to get my hands on it ASAP. 

“I knew that you had a thing for that! I’ve been scoping this out for years, Charlotte!”

Of course she has.

“Glad you’ve been looking out for me. That or stalking me, but that’s up to you.” I teased, bumping my shoulder with hers only to receive a tired groan in response.

“Oh, hush. You know exactly how damn predictable you can be sometimes. Don’t even try to contradict that, either.” Leila stated, giving me a side glare. I gave her a bright, innocent smile in response as I fiddled with my duffel bag’s handles.

My mouth opened to bring up another round of matchmaker, but I was overpowered by a loud speaker.

“Flight one-hundred two for New York boarding at gate fifty-six!” A voice said gently over the speakers. Leila and I instantly looked at each other with the same anxious looks that slightly weirded me out.

“Um, Leila--” I stammered, trailing off as Leila hopped up and started to grab her things. She wore the biggest and brightest smile when she glanced at me out of the corner of her eye.

“C’mon, slowpoke! We gotta go! Move those short legs of yours!” Leila beamed, grabbing my duffel bag with her open hand. Before I could retort, I was ushered into standing and walking towards the luggage area.

“Alright, eager one, slow down a bit?” I asked through a huff. Only two months off of the cheer team and away from drama and I’m already bent out of shape.

Leila threw my duffel bag and her own suitcase onto the conveyor belt and so I followed suit.

This...this entire experience was moving faster than I expected.

*

*

The plane ride wasn’t really all that exciting. Just Leila falling asleep on me, like I expected. Throw in a couple packs of peanuts, a dash of watching Dirty Dancing and Grease religiously, and a sprinkle of a baby’s obnoxious tantrum...and you end up with the definition of a typical plane ride.

Woo, college. Already kicking off with such an exciting start.

*

*

We were about thirty minutes out from The Big Apple when Leila finally woke up from her sleep. I felt my shoulder lighten and then felt the instant soreness from the five and a half hour flight.

“How’d you sleep?” I asked, busying myself by pausing Dirty Dancing on its second playthrough. Of course it was right as Baby started to awkwardly dance down the staircase and onto the bridge.

Leila’s response didn’t come when I thought it would, so I looked over to see if she fell back asleep on the plane’s wall. To my surprise, I saw that her eyes were glued to a figure a few seats over. 

The girl who sat there had this gorgeous auburn hair that cascaded over her shoulders. Her black headphones stood out against her pale complexion and revealed the slightest trace of taupe freckles scattered about her cheeks. Also from the girl’s side profile, you could just barely see the tint of matte black lipstick on her lips.

A gentle but teasing smile formed when I looked back over at a wide-eyed Leila, her cheeks now starting to redden with embarrassment.

“See someone you like over there?” I asked, softly nudging her arm with my own. She cleared her throat and blinked rapidly before turning her attention to me.

“I thought she was snoring?” Leila stammered, now rubbing her tired eyes. I looked back over at the girl - her head bobbing slightly to whatever she’d been playing on her laptop - and let out a laugh.

“Sorry to break it to you, Leila, but she’s completely awake.”

Leila whipped her head back around to see and then let another deep blush cover her cheeks. It was hard to notice against her olive skin, though it deepened enough to see from miles away.

“Okay, um, she was snoring a little bit ago. I swear on your life.” Leila said, pressing her hands to hide her bright red cheeks. 

I let out another laugh. She had never let herself get this flustered...ever. This was so rare that I’d only ever seen it once and that was back in high school. Leila locked eyes for a solid twenty seconds with a junior guy named Michael Harrison at lunch during our freshman year. She couldn’t stop blushing or stuttering for the rest of the day, and that’s not mentioning the dejected look she had when Michael walked out of the building with an unfamiliar girl on his arm after school.

As expected, Leila only responded to me with her notorious deadly side glare.

“Shut up right this instant, Charlotte Parker.” She hissed between her gritted teeth.

Did I listen? Of course not.

“Looks like Miss Maciel has been struck by Cupid’s arrow...” I teased, dramatically leaning into her lap with my hand against my forehead. She grumbled and leaned her head on her palm, looking out the window. After I sat up, I could see her brown eyes flit over in the girl’s direction every once in a while and couldn’t hold back my smile. Not teasing, but happy.

I knew that wistful look in her eye well enough to know that she’d been enamored.

*

*

The plane landed at about seven in the evening. Before getting off the plane, I looked over to the girl. She was frantically putting her computer away in it’s decorated case. I saw a patch with the familiar NYU bobcat...right next to another patch with the name “Skye” in this sort of horror-ish calligraphy.

Huh.

“I think her name is Skye,” I said, leaning in to whisper to Leila, “and I think she’s going to NYU.”

Leila glanced over as she stuffed her neck pillow (that she never used) in her bag.

“Cool. Um...Skye, you said?” Leila said, a blush blooming across her cheeks again. 

I’m seriously loving this.

“Yep, Skye. Maybe she’s a freshman like us?” I said. Leila bit her thin bottom lip.

“Maybe,” Leila said, a smirk crossing over her features, “just...maybe.”

*

*

Waiting for our luggage was so boring. I decided that it was even worse than waiting for our fight.

“Ah, it’s mine!” I heard a girl a few feet away from my tired figure cheer. She rushed forward to grab a gaudy pink suitcase bedazzled with fake gems. Leila pretended to gag next to me.

“Gross,” Leila sighed, though her eyes suddenly lit up, “hey, wait, those are our bags!”

She pointed toward a cluster of familiar bags on the conveyor.

“Ah! C’mon!” I stammered, rushing forward and grabbing them. We both started to laugh as we lugged them off.

“Jesus, this is heavier than I remember.” Leila huffed, lifting her bag onto her shoulder. I did the same, though almost toppled over because of the weight.

“Are we sure that these are ours?” I asked, unzipping the duffel bag to see my familiar coat. Relief flooded my features as I looked back at Leila.

Her face was a sickly greenish pale.

“Uh, Charlotte, this...this isn’t...” Leila stuttered, carefully shuffling through the bag. There were lots of black sweaters and lots of striped shirts. A couple pairs of ripped jeans, a few rock band tees along with an NYU sweatshirt...and a tag on the strap.

I reached out for the black tag on the strap and flipped it over. It read...

Skye...Crandall?

“Leila, remember that girl from the plane?” I asked, showing her the tag. Her face immediately fell, though I could see the flame of hope flickering in her deep brown irises.

“Oh. My. God.” Leila groaned, taking the tag into her hand. “You’re kidding. Charlotte, this seriously isn’t happening right now.”

Despite her panicked state, I laughed. And laughed. And laughed.

“I’m officially calling you Eliza Schuyler because you are helpless!” I giggled, doubling over. Leila loudly sighed.

“No, no no no...” Leila whispered, zipping the bag closed, “how are we going to find her now? I bet she left already with my bag.”

I sadly let my laughter subside as I wiped the humored tears from my eyes, being careful to not let my light layer of mascara run or smudge into a huge mess. That was the last thing I needed right now.

“Alright. Well, I think we should wait and see if your bag is still here. We don’t know for sure that she has it,” I stated, patting Leila’s shoulder, “but if it doesn’t show, we’ll track this Skye girl down and give her the right bag. Okay?”

Leila nodded, her face still contorted with a mixed emotion of annoyance and helplessness.

“Welcome to New York, where we lose your freaking bags and make you chase after freaking girls that you like,” Leila mumbled in a bad imitation of a New York accent, pinching the bridge of her slender nose.

“So you do admit it! Aww!” I cooed, booping her nose. She caught my wrist and gave me another glare, though this one was downright teasing.

“Shut it or I will mercilessly write on your face tonight with a Sharpie while you sleep,” Leila teased, “but let’s get going. We still gotta find our dorm and the sun’s already starting to set.”

I nodded and gathered up my stuff, taking another look back at the conveyor...

“Oh, everyone’s gone?” I questioned, my eyes scanning the now empty area around us. Leila rolled her eyes and started to drag me along towards the masses of people with her free hand.

“Yes, but now let’s go find this girl before I lose my mind. I need my bag and I can bet that she needs hers.”

[antoine-roquentin]

The Israeli government of Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu has in recent days launched a series of military strikes across the Middle East. The scope of the attacks itself represents a new escalation for Israel, bombing not just regional allies of Iran in Syria but also targets in Lebanon and deep inside Iraq. Notably, the attacks are simultaneous with new diplomatic momentum between the U.S. and Iran and talk of a potential meeting between Iranian President Hassan Rouhani and President Trump.

Israel rarely publicly accepts responsibility for its international military and intelligence operations. However, Netanyahu has been remarkably open about taking credit for the recent spate of strikes. “We will act—and currently are acting—against them [Iran], wherever it is necessary,” he recently declared. When asked if Iraq is also a target for attacks, Netanyahu responded: “I am not limiting myself.” Israel has also been widely blamed for the strikes in Lebanon but has not openly claimed them.

This acknowledgement of the strikes threatens dangerous escalation across the region. In the face of provocative admissions from Netanyahu and other Israeli officials, Iranian leaders and their regional allies will be hard-pressed to ignore the strikes and not respond. Importantly, it is a myth that groups like the Popular Mobilization Forces (PMF) in Iraq, Hezbollah in Lebanon, and the Houthis in Yemen are Iranian puppets. To the contrary, these groups all have their own constituencies and are entrenched in local politics. Their power reflects demographic realities and they have domestic goals. Consequently, for reasons not having anything to do with Iran, they will also face internal pressure to retaliate.

The Israeli strikes come on the heels of a significant diplomatic initiative by French President Emmanuel Macron to facilitate renewed U.S.-Iran negotiations. After meeting President Trump and Iranian Foreign Minister Javad Zarif during the G7 Summit in Biarritz, Macron declared “a roadmap has sort of been set…” He added that “in the next few weeks, based on our discussions, a meeting may take place between the two leaders,” which he surmised “is going to lead to bringing an end to escalation and reaching a suitable solution to this [standoff].”

The timing of the Israeli strikes suggests they are at least partly aimed at scuttling the potential for such a meeting. A primary goal of Netanyahu’s government has been the prevention of any agreement between the U.S. and Iran. This goal is apparent by the nature of Israel’s lobbying in Washington and its behavior with respect to U.S.-Iran relations. Netanyahu was one of the few world leaders who opposed the Obama administration’s negotiations with Iran and the July 2015 nuclear deal between Iran and global powers (the Joint Comprehensive Plan of Action, or JCPOA). To sabotage that diplomatic process, Netanyahu went as far as violating traditional diplomatic protocol by circumventing President Obama to address a joint session of Congress and criticize the negotiations in March 2015.

Trump's Leverage Over Netanyahu 

For many on the Israeli right, the assumption has been that the price to be paid would come in the form of unwanted concessions to the Palestinians in the Trump peace initiative. Trump administration officials such as Jared Kushner and Jason Greenblatt have often said that there will be elements in their plan that will make both sides unhappy and that compromise will be required. Right-wing Israeli political leaders, such as Naftali Bennett, have for this reason stated in the past that they are grateful to Trump but do not want him proposing any type of peace plan, understanding that no matter how favorably tilted toward Israel, any peace initiative that conforms to a traditional framework will involve elements that the Israeli right will not want to swallow.

There have been multiple signals this week, however, that this view of the situation is incorrect. A variety of clues lead to the conclusion that the price of Trump’s unprecedented policy moves will not necessarily come as part of his peace initiative, but that the peace initiative itself will be another gift in service of his actual ask, which will be tacit Israeli acquiescence to the Trump administration entering into negotiations and an eventual nuclear deal of its own with Iran. Should this be the manner in which events unfold, it will place Netanyahu in the situation of having to decide whether he is willing to trade his political future for the policy goal that he has espoused for decades — containing Iran and denying its nuclear aspirations — or whether he is willing to cast aside the animating idea of his career in return for remaining in the prime minister’s office.

The past few days have featured some curious news items. After saying last week that any peace initiative to be unveiled would come following Israeli elections, Trump abruptly reversed course this week and told reporters that some elements of the plan may be released before the September 17 vote, which then prompted Greenblatt to clarify on Twitter that the plan would actually only come after the election. This came in conjunction with Netanyahu saying at a campaign event on Wednesday with an unusual degree of certainty that the Trump plan would be released after the election, and likely without much of a delay.

On top of this, a Likud internal poll was leaked that asked respondents whether Trump should release his plan before or after the election, or whether it would matter if Trump gave Israel the green light to annex the Jordan Valley or existing settlements before the election. All of this was then followed by Bennett, who as noted above has publicly expressed his opposition to any Trump plan being released, telling Israeli reporters that he will examine any Trump proposal seriously because of the president’s true friendship for Israel.

None of this seems like mere coincidence. It points to a White House that is planning on releasing a peace plan during coalition negotiations – which is the way to avoid charges of trying to influence the outcome of the election itself – and having in that peace plan components that will help Netanyahu form a government; namely, American cover for Israel to proceed with unilateral annexation. Should the election result in another deadlock and this scenario with a Trump peace initiative plays out, Netanyahu will point to the unprecedented concession that he has gotten from the U.S. – something far beyond the Bush-Sharon letter, which effectively conceded future Israeli sovereignty over settlement blocs but only in the context of a negotiated peace agreement – and argue that none of this would have happened absent his leadership and the relationship that he has cultivated with Trump. When portrayed as a historic opportunity to apply sovereignty to areas of the West Bank that may never again present itself, and which depends on Netanyahu in order to see it through, it will be difficult for Kachol Lavan to remain insistent that it will only join a unity government that does not include Netanyahu.

But none of this changes the fact that Trump will still have not asked Israel for anything in return, and this is where the Iran variable enters the equation. As Trump has made his desire to negotiate with the Iranian regime increasingly clear, Netanyahu and Israeli officials have made their concern over this outcome just as clear. While it is difficult to imagine Netanyahu publicly confronting Trump on anything, Netanyahu has made great political hay over the past four years of his willingness to stand up to President Obama over this precise issue, and forsaking the same principle when it comes to Trump will create a real credibility problem for the prime minister. A peace initiative that enables Netanyahu to remain prime minister by allowing him to take credit for American acquiescence to West Bank annexation or application of Israeli sovereignty over settlements is the most valuable chip that Trump is able to cash in if seeking to forestall a Netanyahu response to a future Iran policy that looks awfully similar to Obama’s.

[thedeaditeslayer]

Sam Raimi on his favourite horror movies.

This interview from Den of Geek showcases a look at the horror movies that influenced Sam Raimi. The interview is below.

Sam Raimi might not have directed a movie since 2013’s Oz: The Great And Powerful, but he remains one of the industry’s most beloved and respected genre filmmakers. As the creator of the Evil Dead series and the man who rescued Spider-Man from development hell and introduced him to the big screen, Raimi has more than earned his geek stripes. And while he hasn’t stepped behind the camera for a while, he has been supporting other horror filmmakers as a producer, on films such as Fede Alvarez’s Don’t Breathe and, most recently, Alexandre Aja’s gator thriller, Crawl.

A snappy (pardon the pun) creature feature that clocks in at under 90 minutes, Crawl is a lean and tense example of effective genre filmmaking. And that’s just one of the reasons why Raimi was tempted on board to produce the project. “I’ve never been a brainiac or a guy who works with very deep horror themes,” he admits when Den Of Geek catches up with him to talk about Crawl and horror movies in general. “It’s really a primal experience, and for me the simpler the better, the more direct the more effective, the shorter the better.”

“I think what Alex understands so well – and certainly demonstrated on Crawl – is that the audience wants a rollercoaster ride that kicks them in the butt, flips them on their head and then dumps them out before they’re ready. I don’t think two-hour stories – or longer nowadays – suits the subject matter. A campfire ghost story is the right length for me. If you could make horror movies that were eight minutes long, that would be perfect. Unfortunately, movies don't let you do that – no one wants to go into a theatre and be kicked out before they’ve even finished their popcorn.”

Funny, affable and an all-around good egg, Raimi is happy to chat at length about the genre in which he made his name. Having been a flag-waving supporter of horror since his breakout movie, 1981’s The Evil Dead, Raimi is clearly a man who knows a thing or two about what makes a decent chiller. He might not have directed Crawl, but it’s clear to see how it fits with his sensibilities as a genre lover. He’s also, as it turns out, a big fan of a monster movie.

The premise of Crawl is, as Raimi says, simple and direct. Uni student and aspiring swimmer Haley (Kaya Scodelario) and her dad (Barry Pepper) are trapped inside their Florida family home during a hurricane, faced with rising flood waters and a congregation of invading alligators. “What I liked about the movie was that it’s a plausible scenario: alligators seek high ground in the floods and more and more in the US, the southern area of our country is being flooded,” Raimi explains. “It’s like instant horror.

“I love the fact that it doesn't take a science fiction premise to bring this to life,” he adds. “I don't need a giant monster – I'll take my radiation at the beach and I’m happy to cook a hot dog with it, but I don’t want my monsters to be radioactive. I love the fact that these monsters just live in Florida and the circumstance of this screenplay brings them into a person’s home.” Or, as Raimi’s co-producer Craig Flores puts it (while still chuckling to himself at Raimi’s take on mutated monsters): “The invasion of this natural element into an unnatural environment like our homes, where we have TVs and computers and couches, is a terrifying thought. It's a very disturbing image.”

Not only does Raimi love a good old movie monster, but he’s also a fan of the less-is-more philosophy, too – the “great craftsmanship” of Spielberg’s Jaws being a prime example (although, Raimi says, he counts that as “more of a brilliant adventure film with very effective elements of horror” than a horror film per se).

“It's true, the audience can craft more frightening things than we can show them, but it’s also the filmmaker’s responsibility to plant the fertile seeds in the minds of the audience so they can grow their own monster,” Raimi explains. “On Crawl, I think Alex was aware of not showing the creatures too much. You have to let the audience use their imagination and just give them the right amount to build their nightmare.”

Producing films is one thing, but there’s one big question on our lips: will we see Raimi returning to the director’s chair in the near future? “I’m trying to find a good script,” he says. “I don't want to give the audience something they expect. You know, it’s hard to find a great original script and it’s even harder to recognise it as that because it is so different. So that’s the nutty search I'm on right now.”

In the meantime, given all this talk of horror, monsters and “primal experiences”, we decided to ask Raimi about his favourite genre movies – and here’s what he had to say…

The first horror movie I saw

Night Of The Living Dead (1968)

Raimi says that he was just a boy when he first encountered George A Romero’s seminal zombie movie, and it left a huge mark on the future filmmaker. “I was about nine years old, and my sister snuck me in because I wasn't old enough,” he recalls. “In Michigan [Raimi’s home state], we have tremendous winters and so she had this long coat, and I was tiny enough that I could do this little shuffle walk underneath it and believe it or not sneak into the theatre.

“God I wish I had stayed in that coat,” he laughs. “I really had never been so terrified in my life. I was screaming and shrieking, begging my sister to take me home, and she was trying to shut me up. I'd never experienced horror like that before. It felt so real, like a docu-horror. I had never seen a black-and-white movie in a movie theatre before; it looked like a documentary. There was nothing Hollywood about it – it was just unrelenting and complete madness and very upsetting for me. It left a tremendous impression on me as a filmmaker and I think that’s why The Evil Dead was so influenced by Night Of The Living Dead, because that’s really what a horror film was for me.”

My favourite Hitchcock horror

Psycho (1960)

When Flores and Raimi showed early cuts of Crawl to two of their peers, they both independently referenced the master of suspense himself, Alfred Hitchcock, saying that it felt like “The Birds with alligators”. But The Birds isn’t Raimi’s favourite Hitch flick… “I love Psycho,” he says. “Bernard Herrmann's music is so thrilling, so rich. I love that Hitchcock recognised the greatness of making the audience identify with the hero and then ending her life and introducing the real horror of the story, completely blowing our minds.

“It’s shocking even to this day that he had the audacity to do that. When that happens, you realise you're in the hands of a filmmaker who's capable of doing anything. The whole grasp of the experience is quite terrifying: anything can happen, nothing is sacred, the hero can and does die. So nothing is off-limits. But his choice of shots, his composition, and the brilliant performances that he gets from all the actors are stunning.”

My most influential horror movie

Night Of The Demon (1957)

While Night Of The Living Dead ignited Raimi’s love of the genre, there was one film that cemented it – Jacques Tourneur’s occult classic, Night Of The Demon. “That was such a great film,” says Raimi. “I’m very much influenced by that film even today. My brother Ivan [a scriptwriter] and I were affected by it so much that its influence can be seen directly in a movie we made called Drag Me To Hell, which really is based on Jacques Tourneur’s film. The whole idea of a curse that can be handed down to another, of an unstoppable thing from hell that's coming to get you, is really terrifying. That was really the basis for our movie.”

The modern horror that impressed me

Switchblade Romance (2003)

One of the reasons that Raimi wanted to produce Crawl was the opportunity to work with Alexandre Aja, a director who’d been on Raimi’s radar since his audacious breakout, Haute Tension – better known as Switchblade Romance in the UK. “Around 2004, I asked Alex to direct a movie I was producing called The Messengers, starring Kristen Stewart, but he was busy on The Hills Have Eyes at the time so he couldn’t,” Raimi reveals (the gig eventually went to The Eye’s the Pang brothers).

“I love Haute Tension,” he continues. “I think it was as simple as the way I felt in the theatre – terrified and on the edge of my seat. I didn't know what was going to come next – my expectations kept being thwarted and I really felt that he as a filmmaker knew what I was going through. He was like a puppeteer, pulling one string and then another, and then knowing that I would react one way and then and waiting for me down that alley, where he’d planned yet another surprise. I really felt he had the mind of a maze-maker. He seemed to have a complex awareness of the audience and what their thought process must be, and understanding the timing of things. It’s really a kind of frightening ability if you think about it: how could he know what I would be thinking; how would he be prepared for my reaction? And yet he was. I felt like I was in the hands of a master.”

The last horror I saw and loved

Get Out (2017)

Jordan Peele’s much-lauded social horror Get Out was the last film to really get under Raimi’s skin. “I think that was the last one that really knocked me for a loop,” he says. “It’s just brilliant and original. I love the social commentary, I love the brilliant performance from the lead actress, Allison Williams – she was great. Great directing and funny, too – I just thought that was beautifully done.”

But, as a filmmaker with experience on both indie horrors and big-budget studio pics, Raimi says that Get Out’s awards-season success, while deserved, could come at a price for the genre. “That respectability – it's something gained and something lost, honestly,” he reckons. “I love that makers of the genre are finally being recognised as artists, and yet personally I like working as a filmmaker in disrespected genres - they are better places to hide out and practice my craft. Somehow it's healthier making horror movies there in the darkness away from the sunlight, where things can fester and mould, decay…”

[emma-nation]

The Devil In I - Bela x OC (Resident Evil Village AU) - Chapter 9

“Step inside, see the Devil in I”

Summary: Aleena Novak is a 19 years old orphan who desired more than living in a village in the middle of nowhere. A talented artist with a big future ahead, she gets the scholarship of her dreams in United States. But everything changes when her twin brother, Auryk, steals an important artifact from Castle Dimitrescu.

In this adventure, Aleena will find way more than she expected.

“You’ll realize I’m not your Devil anymore”

Pairing: Bela Dimitrescu x f!OC

Genre: Between T and M (Trigger warning: for violence, blood, abuse and eventual smut)

Tag List: @nydeiri

Castle Dimitrescu, Lady Dimitrescu's Bedroom - Present Days

What did dying feels like? Bela couldn't remember the day she died, before she was turned. For many and many years, she wondered how it even happened. Maybe she was incurably ill. That would be the only plausible explanation on why Lady Dimitrescu decided to transform her into a vampire. Having an illness herself, she must've felt sorry for Bela being so young and already losing her life.

But that night, after being drugged by Mother Miranda, the memory from that tragic event returned to her memory stronger like never.

It was a cold night in the 1950's. Alcina threw a special dinner and invited her three favorite and most loyal servants. Three young girls. They felt honored sitting at the same table as their mistress. They were chatting and giggling but then... something started to feel strange. Starting by the fact none of the servants were around.

It began as a burning sensation in Bela's stomach. She tried to ignore it but it'd only grow stronger. She dropped the silverware she was holding. She attempted to swallow another sip of tea. By her side, she noticed one of the other two girls, the brunette one, starting to show signs of discomfort too.

"What's wrong, my dear?" Lady Dimitrescu asked when the red haired girl, the youngest of the three, started coughing.

"I can't..." she tried to answer, but the words got lost in her throat as she began to suffocate, "b-breathe..."

Bela tried to stand up and help her, but her surroundings started to spin. She held on the table for support. At this point, the brunette girl was already lying on the floor, having some kind of seizure. She looked at Lady Dimitrescu again, but she didn't seem to be worried. She seemed abnormally calm.

"W-What have you..." before she could finish the question, her lungs could no longer fill with oxygen. Her throat and her airways started to burn. She tried and tried to breathe, but it seemed impossible. The weakness started on her legs and spread to the rest of her body really quickly. In fact, she barely felt when she collapsed on the floor. When the seizures started, she was barely conscious. Her vision was already going black, but she still had time to see the Countess staring at her body, almost lifeless, as she said:

"Don't worry, daughter. Everything will be alright."

Poisoned. She was poisoned.

When Bela woke up it was already morning. She could tell by the rays of sunlight entering through the windows. She hadn't died this time, but the sensations she experienced were quite similar. Her head was aching intensely and her vision was still blurred. Whatever Miranda had injected in her blood had affected her senses very badly.

"Aleena," she finally remembered. She tried to get up but her legs were still weak. "I need to find her."

She kept moving slowly, using the walls and furniture for support. If only she could transform into flies, it would be a lot easier, but it hurt to even try.

"Fuck!" Bela cursed, frustrated. She threw herself on a couch for a moment. She needed to rest.

Her eyes analyzed her surroundings. Although Bela was in her mother's chambers, Lady Dimitrescu was nowhere to be seen.

Hours had passed since she was drugged. Anything could've happened during this time. She wondered if Aleena was still there and if she was okay. She had to be. But what if she slept for days? What if the ritual had already happened? Aleena could be dead in that exact moment and she wasn't there to protect her. That thought made her stomach feel sick. And rare were the occasions she felt sick after being turned.

"Bela!" Daniela opened the door, she seemed so confused and scared as she was. "There you are, sister! Oh my god, I was starting to think you were dead."

"You wish..." Bela moaned sarcastically. She couldn't miss the opportunity. "What the fuck happened, Dani? Where's that bitch?"

"Who? Cassandra?"

Daniela handed her a cup full of human blood. Bela drank it all in one sip. That was the only thing able to restore her body from the damage Miranda caused.

Cassandra. She remembered her middle sister being the one who told her to go to her mother's office. Traitor! She should've known when she appeared to be so supportive of her relationship with Aleena in the previous day.

"No, Mother Miranda."

"Mother Miranda was here?"

Before she could answer, the door opened with a slam. It was Cassandra, looking completely fine. She had blood around her mouth and all over her dress. In a blink of an eye, Bela lunged forward, pinning her against the wall.

"How could you?!" She yelled. "You sent me directly to a trap!"

"What are you talking about?" Cassandra argued. "Somebody caught me on a corridor and stabbed my neck with a needle, then I passed out."

"Come on, don't lie to us," Daniela shouted. "You entered my room last night and drugged me."

"And why I would even do this to both of you?"

Realizing what happened, Bela immediately let her go.

"Mother Miranda," she huffed. "She must have shapeshifted into you and attacked us all."

It was time to tell her sisters what she learned from Heisenberg. Miranda had already started to proceed with her plans and it was a matter of time before she attempted to kill them.

"This bitch is going to die!" Cassandra punched the wall. "Nobody pretends to be me and lives."

"This is the least of our problems," Bela said. "She can be anywhere right now, pretending to be someone we trust and ready to kill us all."

"Where's mom?" Daniela asked. "I couldn't find her anywhere."

Lady Dimitrescu was the last person Bela wanted to see. She lied and betrayed her, besides helping Mother Miranda to drug her.

"I don't know, I searched for her everywhere," Cassandra told. "On the bright side, there's fresh breakfast spread all around the castle."

"What do you mean, Cassandra?" Bela wanted to know.

"The servants. They're all dead."

"What about Aleena? Have you seen her?"

"No, I thought she was with you."

Bela transformed into flies and went straight to Aleena's bedroom. It was completely empty. The bed was still made as in the previous night. She went to her own bedroom next. The diary was opened on the bed, right on the pages where her father confirmed what Miranda told her in the office, Aleena was indeed the vessel.

Mrs. Volkov corpse was lying on the corridor and not so far away, there was a trail of blood, Aleena's blood. She froze in place, too terrified to even think.

"It doesn't mean anything," Daniela placed a hand on her shoulder. "Maybe she managed to escape."

"She probably did, that girl is fierce," Cassandra added, noticing how disturbed her older sister looked. "I mean, she's not one of the Lords or a servant. There's no reason for that crazy bitch to murder her."

"There is," Bela sighed deeply. "She's the vessel. Miranda was playing us like puppets. The goblet thing was already intentional, to bring Aleena to the castle where she'd be safe until she prepared the ritual."

"Oh fuck, this is bad."

"I... I'm going to the village. Maybe she's hiding in her house."

----------

Eastern Europe, Village - Present Days

When Bela left, she didn't even bother to check the temperature or to mount one of her horses. She transformed into flies and started to fly to the village as fast as she could. Everything that mattered was finding Aleena. She wasn't dead. She couldn't be dead. They were going to California together and they'd start a brand new life.

She stopped by her house first. The door was locked and the extra key hidden in a vase at the entrance, just where Aleena placed it before they returned to the castle.

"It doesn't mean she's not here," Bela tried to convince herself. "She must have found another way in, to not make it obvious she's hiding here."

She used the key to open the front door. The house was dark and silent. There weren't any signs of somebody's recent presence. She checked every room, the basement, the secret weapon storage... Aleena definitely wasn't there.

"Maybe she's at the pub or at one of her friends' houses," Bela concluded.

There was no way. She had to do that. She took a deep breath, gathering enough courage to enter the pub. There were only three people in there, a middle aged woman behind the counter, a blonde young male cleaning the tables and a girl, who was strangely similar to Cassandra, chatting to both of them. Bela recognized them from the pictures Aleena showed her. They were Olga, Gustav and Elena.

"Hello," she announced her presence. They all stopped to stare at her, but none of them had freaked out yet. Maybe they hadn't noticed the tattoo.

"How can we help you, darling?" The older woman asked. "Are you a foreigner?"

"I... uhh... I'm looking for Aleena Novak."

"She isn't here," it was the boy who answered this time. He had a lot of anger in his voice. "She was taken to Castle Dimitrescu a few weeks ago. We don't even know if she's still alive."

"She is," Bela told. "I've been taking care of her."

They finally understood. Their expressions all changed to pure terror and panic. The two younger adults hid behind the counter, together with the woman. The male grabbed a shotgun.

"Get the hell out of here!" He ordered. "And if Aleena escaped, don't you even dare to touch her again or I'll kill you. I'll find her and bring her home."

"Trust me, manthing. This is exactly what I'm planning to do. Mother Miranda has kidnapped her. She has been planning to sacrifice her in some kind of sick ritual tonight."

"Liar!" Cassandra's doppelgänger shouted. "Mother Miranda wouldn't do such a thing! She's always guiding and protecting us. Everything she does is for the best of all of us."

"Listen, little one," Bela exhaled deeply. She had no patience for humans. That was the reason why she avoided them. They'd usually annoy her to the point they became her prey. "I have proof. Aleena's father has left this diary, reporting everything."

"That man was insane. Most of the villagers hated him."

"But he never lied," Gustav spoke. "Adrian had some crazy theories nobody ever believed but... I've never seen him lying before. He was a man of his word."

"This is true," Olga added. "We grew up together. He was absolutely nasty, a real bastard, but not a liar. He wouldn't invent such a thing, especially when it came to protecting Aleena."

Olga locked the door and the group reunited in one of the tables, analyzing the notes Adrian Novak left.

"Fuck," Gustav cursed, while trying to speak on his phone. "Auryk must've gone after this contacts. I can't reach him."

"Do you have any ideas of where Aleena could've gone to, if she was trying to hide?" Bela asked.

"Other than our houses and the pub? Well... we had this fort in the woods when we were children. Maybe she's hiding there."

"Show me the way, little man."

But Gustav wasn't the one who was most familiar with the path to Aleena's childhood fort, it was Elena. The young woman followed them, complaining about literally everything and praising Mother Miranda.

"Mother Miranda would never do that!" Elena protested. "I'd trust her with my life."

"I was about your age when she did this to me, without my consent," Bela took off the hat she was wearing, exposing her scar. "And do you think immortality is a blessing? Try spending your life locked inside a castle, without being able to go outside most of the time."

"Why are we even trusting her, Gustav? She feeds on human blood and now we're alone with her in the middle of nowhere."

"If that makes you feel more comfortable, I've already had breakfast. Besides, I prefer drinking men's blood."

"Can we just focus on Aleena?" Gustav scolded both of them. Bela had finally found a man she respected. That boy was completely loyal and protective of her girlfriend, so he deserved some credit. "God knows why Bela is searching for her but... we have the same goal here."

"We're dating," Bela informed them of the latest news. "I love her. For real."

Both of the young humans stared at her in shock.

"It seems like we'll have a lot to catch up when I see Aleena again," the boy shook his head in disbelief. "I thought the vampire thing was just a phase."

They finally found the small wooden fortress in the middle of the woods. It was mostly destroyed, but it still could fit one adult person inside it.

"Aleena!" Gustav called. There was no answer. Still, Aleena was hurt. Maybe she was unconscious.

"Go," Bela poked Elena and ordered. "You're the shortest of us. Check if she's in there."

The girl rolled her eyes, but obeyed, ducking and entering the small fort. But there wasn't even a sign Aleena was there recently.

"Where do we search now?" Elena asked.

"I'll go to the other Lords," Bela told. "Maybe one of them is keeping her for Miranda. Thank you for your help, little humans. It was a pleasure to meet you."

Bela walked away from them. Maybe in another life, they could've been friends. The priority now was to find Aleena. She wondered if the girl went to Heisenberg seeking for protection or if Miranda had captured and taken her to that creepy cave. There wasn't much time to think, she needed to act.

She followed to Heisenberg's factory. As usual the man was swearing and torturing human beings on his basement.

"What brings you here, kid?" He asked. "Did you find the diaries?"

"Yes, but too late unfortunately," she answered. "The information we were searching for: all the women in Aleena's family have some kind of immunity against the creatures and their mutations. They healed after getting bitten by Lycans, Aleena healed when you attacked her... she's the vessel."

"We have to kill her immediately. Before Miranda puts her hands on her. If that happens, we're fucked."

"She already did. She showed up in the castle last night, drugged me and my sisters, killed the servants and now... I can't find Aleena anywhere."

"Girl, you had the opportunity in your hands," he clenched his fists. "If you had killed her, like you freaks do to every single human that steps into that castle, we wouldn't be in this situation."

"Shut up, Heisenberg!" Bela grabbed a piece of metallic scrap from the floor and threw in the man's direction. "I had no idea. Even if I did, she's my girlfriend and I have to save her before she's sacrificed on Miranda's ritual."

"Good luck with that. The crazy bitch is very good hiding things."

And Bela knew that. Next, she went to Moreau's, Miranda's most loyal follower. She didn't reveal any information, she simply tricked him by inventing an excuse, that stupid freak was easy to fool. But Aleena certainly wasn't there either. Using her flies, she checked the entire place. She did the same at Donna's house. While she entertained the woman and her creepy doll having a tea party with them, her flies inspected every corner of her eerie house.

She was about to follow to Miranda's cave when she ran into Cassandra, in the middle of the way.

"What are you doing, Bela?" She asked. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?

"I'm searching for Aleena. She's gotta be somewhere and the last place I must check is the cave."

"Mother is home," her sister announced. "She wants to talk to you."

----------

Castle Dimitrescu, Living Room - Present Days

In Bela's imagination, Lady Dimitrescu would apologize. Admit she had made a huge mistake and promise her they'd find Aleena together. That was who her adoptive mother was, she'd always do anything to make her daughters happy. But at the same time, she was also that same woman from her memory. The selfish Countess who killed three young girls to have them as her adoptive daughters. She killed, violated and turned them into monsters. What kind of mother was that?

The three sisters were sitting on the couch, waiting as their mother brought a tray with tea and some other treats. That would probably be their only food for days, as Lady Dimitrescu and Mother Miranda had killed all the servants.

Lady Dimitrescu sat on an armchair in front of them, looking at Bela mostly.

"I understand you're confused, daughters. But I'll explain everything."

"Where's Aleena?" Bela quickly asked. That was the only thing that mattered. Who cared about Mother Miranda's child who died ages ago? "What have you two done to her?"

"Bela, daughter... I understand you're upset and frustrated. However, Mother Miranda has been searching for the perfect vessel to bring her daughter back to life for many and many years. This vessel happens to be Aleena. It's her fate, her purpose."

Bela eyes were burning in pure rage. How could Alcina be so blind? Even Heisenberg, that scumbag of man, was smarter than her mother was.

"Her fate is to live her own life, to go to California and achieve her dreams. Her fate is to be with me!"

"I apologize for having to get rid of all of our servants," she clearly ignored her daughter's objections. "They wouldn't understand what's to come. Once Eva is back to life, things will change. I'd like to ask you girls to behave and treat her well, like if she's a new sister of yours. We'll be throwing a party to welcome Eva to our family and I'll need your help to organize it."

"Party?!" Bela let out a sarcastic laugh. "Are you naive or only stupid? Miranda is going to kill you before this ritual is even finished! It has been her plan all along."

"Bela!" Lady Dimitrescu's eyes narrowed and she raised her voice. "I'm your mother! You owe me some respect, little lady."

"I don't! Not when you drugged me and let Miranda kidnap my girlfriend. I want to know where she is."

"Daughter..." Alcina grabbed her by the shoulders and lowered her voice. An useless attempt to help her to calm down. "Aleena is gone. She's dead."

The world seemed to stop. As well as the clock. The voices. Everything. Not even Bela's brain was capable of working and processing the words she had just listened. Dead. Aleena was dead. Her Aleena. Her girlfriend. The woman she loved. She stopped breathing. Her stomach ached as much as in the night she was poisoned. She felt she was about to collapse and die again. Her heart was beating in a strange manner. It was out of control. She was out of control.

Bela raised her golden yellow eyes, filled with hateful tears and stared directly into Lady Dimitrescu's eyes.

"You..." she clenched her fists. "You lied to me... You betrayed me..."

"I was willing to let her live, daughter," the woman tried to excuse herself. "Until the last meeting. Mother Miranda told me the truth and asked me to give her the vessel."

"HER NAME WAS ALEENA," using her strength, Bela grabbed the heavy coffee table and threw it across the room, shocking her mother and sisters. "She had a name! She was NOT a vessel."

Very rare were the times Bela actually cried after being turned. She cried when she first woke up in excruciating pain, with that huge wound on the side of her head. She cried later, when she felt lost, without knowing who or what she was. And she was crying now. Without Aleena, she felt lost again. She had nothing left. She no longer wished to live. A life without that girl's contagious joy, optimism and bravery was meaningless.

"Bela..." Lady Dimitrescu tried to touch her, comfort her somehow, but the blonde girl slapped her hand away.

"I always did everything you asked me... I always tried to be the perfect daughter for you... AND FOR WHAT?" Bela sobbed. "The only thing I ever ask you, you denied me. You took Aleena from me. You chose Miranda over your own daughter!"

"I had no choice, daughter! She'd turn against us if I refused to give her Aleena. Who knows what she'd be capable of doing?"

"She's doing it anyways. She's going to kill us all now she's gotten what she wanted."

She started to walk away. She had to be alone. As far away as possible from that woman, from that family, from that stupid castle. That small bed & breakfast at the village seemed like a good option.

"Daughter, wait," Alcina went after her, as she entered her bedroom.

"Don't you ever call me daughter again, Lady Dimitrescu," Bela angered. "I'm not your daughter. You kidnapped, killed me and turned me into a monster. Who knows what you've done to my real parents. We're not your daughters, we're only your toys, your dolls. You're not that different from your sister, Donna, after all."

She slammed the door and locked it. The bedroom was still the same way they left in the previous night. The candles, the flowers, the discs... Aleena's perfume was still on her pillows. Bela threw herself on the bed, holding the pillow against her body as she cried uncontrollably.

This was all her fault. They should've finished reading the diaries earlier and found out the truth before Miranda's visit, but she distracted Aleena, wishing to spend as much time with her as possible before she left to California. She should've been there to protect her, she promised it. She shouldn't have trusted the woman she used to call 'mother'. She was an idiot and now, Aleena was gone. Forever.

----------

Castle Dimitrescu, Guest Room - Present Days

Memories. Only a few days earlier Bela was afraid memories would be everything she'd have left from Aleena and now, it really was. Without anybody noticing, she went to the guest room the girl had been staying during those weeks in the castle. She obviously wasn't there, but traits of her presence were still all around.

Her clothes were still in the closet. Some where lying on the armchair or even around the floor. Bela grabbed one of her t-shirts, one from Aleena's favorite TV show. It still had her perfume on it.

"I miss you, love," she inhaled deeply the sweet fragrance. "So much it's killing me."

Then, she took the sketch book from the desk. Aleena was the most talented artist Bela had ever met. Her sister, Daniela, was a good artist, but she wasn't so creative, so expressive and precise on her traces. Bela had many classes with Lady Dimitrescu, and though she could paint decently, it wasn't her strong suit.

The drawing was still there. The one Aleena where was drawing her face. The reason why they kissed that night in the library, when she said Bela was worth being remembered.

"And now I'm the one who have nothing to remind me of you, Aleena. Remind me of every detail of your perfect green eyes, your smooth brown hair and those sweet freckles all over your body."

Her cell phone was still inside the bedside table's drawer. Bela turned it on. Aleena had set a picture of them together as her lockscreen. She smiled. In the gallery, she found many and many pictures of all the days they spent together, since the lunch Bela threw on her birthday when she arrived.

There were videos too and as soon Bela heard Aleena's voice, she couldn't help but start crying again. Why did her mother betrayed her like that? She could've helped her to save Aleena. She could've helped them to take down Miranda. That was what a real mother was supposed to do!

"Hey," she rolled her eyes, noticing she had forgotten to lock the door again. Cassandra was standing right behind her. "I'm came here to check on you."

"Leave me alone, Cassandra," Bela angered. "You didn't even like her."

"This isn't true. Aleena wasn't my favorite person in the world, not that I have one by the way, but still... I didn't want her to die."

Bela ignored her. Cassandra didn't have maturity enough to understand how she was feeling. Sometimes she wondered if her sister was even able to feel empathy for another being. But then, she was surprised by her next move.

"I'm sorry," her middle sister touched her shoulder slightly, tenderly. "I know she made you happy. Deep down, I was rooting for you both."

She forced a small smile before pulling her sister for an embrace. It was probably the first time they exchanged such a genuine moment of affection.

"We'll make her pay," Cassandra stroked her hair. "Let's kill Bitch Miranda."

The three sisters gathered together in the library. Lady Dimitrescu couldn't be aware of their plans. Daniela revealed her sisters she once heard about a dagger their mother possessed, one that was able to kill any monsters and demons.

"Are you sure about this?" Bela asked to confirm. Daniela had a creative and delusional mind after all.

"Yes," her youngest sister said. "I stole one of her diaries once. She was reporting everything about this dagger, except for its location."

"Then I'll keep her distracted while you search for it," Cassandra suggested. "I'll pretend to help her with her party for Miranda's daughter rebirth."

"What about me?" Bela wanted to know.

"You're not okay, sister. Let us handle this. Save your strength for when we stab the bitch and end her for good."

"As long as you let me do the honors, it's fine by me."

That was it. Bela would pretend to be alright. She would pretend to forgive her mother. And when the time came, she'd get her revenge against Miranda.

But then... there was nothing left for her in this world. With Aleena gone, she lost her only chance of living a new and normal life. She lost the only thing that made her feel happy and human. And if the dagger could kill any monsters and demons, well... it would be able to kill her too.

Still holding Aleena's shirt against her body, Bela lay on the bed and fell asleep, thinking of the moment they'd be reunited again in death. However, she had a terrible nightmare. Aleena was dying in her arms and there was nothing she could do.

She got up and drank some water. It had been hours since Daniela left the room to search for the dagger. She wondered if something had gone wrong. Lady Dimitrescu would never agree with that plan. She was about to leave the bedroom when the red haired girl entered the room so excited she could barely breathe.

"Bela..." she panted, "I found her!"

"The dagger?!" Bela asked. "Where is it?"

"No! Aleena. She's alive in the dungeons!"

----------

Castle Dimitrescu, Dungeons - Present Days

I opened my eyes, but I couldn't see anything. The environment around me was different from everywhere I had been in the last few weeks, the air was humid but still suffocating. It also smelled terribly, like rotting flesh and blood. I tried to stand up but my leg was still badly injured. I wondered how long it'd take for the amulet to heal my body again. Maybe it only worked once. Or maybe it had to do with the fluid Cassandra injected on me before she threw me inside that nasty cell.

Speaking of Bela's sister, I was pissed. Truly pissed. It was no secret she never liked me, but I never thought she'd be able to betray her own sister like that. Telling Bela to go to their mother's office only to bring me to the dungeons was a low blow, even for her. And there was Mrs. Volkov too. I couldn't believe she was dead.

"H-Help... somebody help me..."

I tried to scream but the blood loss and the drug made me too weak. I had to find a way out. A way to regain my forces and escape that place.

It didn't take long for me to lose my conscience again. As much as I attempted to stay awake and hear any signals someone could be around, I just couldn't. I was trapped in that endless cycle of waking up for a few minutes, moan in pain and passing out again. That was it. The Mother Miranda bitch was certainly behind it. When the right moment came, she'd come and take me for the ritual. Drugged as I was, I wouldn't be able to fight it.

"Aleena!" I heard Bela's voice, approaching. Maybe it was just another hallucination. "Oh my god!"

The cell's door opened, allowing some light to enter. I was able to distinguish my girlfriend's beautiful face among all that darkness.

"It's okay, love. You'll be okay, I promise you."

I forced a small smile as she placed my head on her lap. Using a blade, she opened a small gash on her wrist and forced it into my mouth.

"Drink it," Bela ordered. "My blood is going to heal your wounds and the drug effects."

I felt my stomach twisting from the metallic taste of blood going down my throat. I definitely wasn't born to be a vampire. For a second, I thought I was going to throw up.

"Shhhh," she held me still as the nausea struck. "Just breathe. Hold it down and you'll be okay."

I did as she told. I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths, the nausea was slowly going away. Bela started to caress my face and I felt as some warm tears dropped on my forehead.

"Hey, I'm just a little beaten up," I assured her. "But I'm starting to feel better."

"I... I thought you were dead. My mother told me you were dead."

Why would Lady Dimitrescu do such a thing? Of course, she needed to make sure Bela wouldn't ruin Miranda's plans. She needed to convince her to not search for me.

I was already strong enough to sit. I hugged Bela very very tightly. She was sobbing desperately. Her heart was beating so fast inside her chest, it seemed like it'd explode at any moment.

"I'm so sorry," I kissed her forehead. "I'm here and I'm not leaving you ever again. I promise."

"You're the vessel, Aleena," Bela told me. "Your body is immune to the attacks of any creatures in the village. And now Miranda wants to use you to bring her daughter back to life. She believes your body is going to accept the mutation."

She also told me about my amulet. Miranda was the one to sell it to Auryk. I immediately ripped it off from my neck.

"I knew about being the vessel. I discovered it right after you left the bedroom. My father knew it and Auryk did too, this is why he wanted to get me out of the country so badly."

Bela wasn't listening to me. She was still staring at my face in disbelief, her eyes glistening with tears from the relief of finding out I was still alive. She cupped my face between her hands and pressed her lips on mine multiple times.

"I'm going to fix this," she was still crying. "I promise you. We have a plan to kill Miranda. There's a dagger hidden here in the castle, it can kill any monsters or demons. Daniela is searching for it, while Cassandra is distracting my m-," she hesitated to say that word, "my mother."

"Okay, but Cassandra was the one to kill Mrs. Volkov to capture me. We can't trust her at all!"

Of course. The bitch had more tricks I wasn't even aware of. She could shapeshift. Now I finally knew how my father was probably killed or how Auryk obtained that amulet from her. It was also obvious who attacked the castle that morning, Miranda was willing to test my healing properties again.

"She didn't. Mother Miranda can shapeshift into any person, this is why we need to be careful. We have this safe word, to know we're the actual Dimitrescu sisters. It's 'blowfly'."

I sighed and attempted to break the tension.

"And how do you know I'm the real Aleena?" I smiled.

"Trust me, love. I know," Bela kissed me, slowly and passionate. "Otherwise, I wouldn't be doing this. Imagine how disgusting it would be to kiss that crazy bitch."

We both broke into laughs. Then, she took my hand and helped me to stand up.

"We need to get you out of here. My mother can't know I've found you. Miranda is coming to pick you up at midnight for the ritual."

Through the secret passages we made to the stables, where Bela had already left my bags and a horse prepared to take me to the village.

"Once you get there," she told me. "Just drive as far as you can. Go to the city, find your brother and fly to United States."

And then I realized.

"But Bela... what about you?"

"I'm staying here, love. I'm going to kill Miranda, together with my sisters and Heisenberg."

"And then you'll meet me there, right?!" I raised my voice, fighting hard against the tears that insisted falling down. "You'll go to California."

She was in silence for a moment, trying to find the right words, but I already knew what she wanted to say. First, she handed me my cell phone.

"You said you wanted something to remember. Now you have plenty of pictures of me in this device of yours."

"Bela... what are you saying?"

"Let's be honest, Aleena," she looked down. "It was never a possibility and you knew it. We'd have to stop at the first temperature drop we came across. We probably wouldn't even make it to the airport."

"I said I'm going to find a way! It's Summer, dammit. It's not so cold away from the mountains and once we arrive in California, it'll be even hotter."

"You know your world would never accept me, love. Look at me, I have this nasty scar, this weird tattoo, I need to drink human blood to live..."

"STOP MAKING EXCUSES TO BREAK UP WITH ME! I'LL FIND A WAY! FOR ALL OF THIS. IF THEY CAN'T ACCEPT YOU, THEN FUCK THEM! I LOVE YOU AND IT'S ALL THAT MATTERS."

"I love you too," Bela kissed my forehead. "And this is why I'm letting you go."

"Even if I go, Bela," I argued, punching her shoulder slightly, "it doesn't have to end! I'm going to call you. I'm going to write you. And I'll come here to visit you too."

"In the first few weeks, love. Then, you'll become too busy to write. Our phone calls will become shorter because you'll be too tired. You'll disappear for a few days. We'll start to fade, little by little. And finally someday, you'll meet somebody new. Somebody who can make you laugh and distract you from your tragic past. Somebody who can take you to an actual date. Somebody you can introduce to your family and friends. Somebody who actually deserves you. Who can give you a future with marriage and children. Because she isn't dead. Because she isn't... me."

"I don't want any of this! I want you and only you. This future? We can have it! Here in this fucking castle or in my old small house. I don't care if I have to serve tables for the rest of my life, as long as I have you."

"You deserve a lot more than that."

"And so do you. What are you going to do, huh? To keep playing house with the woman who killed and turned you into a vampire? Serving her every wish and pretending you love this life? Or sleep with a different servant every week to hide the fact you're completely lonely and miserable?"

"Yes, Aleena. It has been this way for six decades now and it's not going to change. I have no choice, I'm sorry."

She vanished into a swarm of flies and disappeared, leaving me completely alone in the stables. I fell on my knees again, sobbing and screaming my lungs out.

"Bela, come back here!" I cried. "I love you! Please... come back..."

I still waited for a few minutes, but as I knew and as Mrs. Volkov always warned me, when Bela made a decision nothing would change her mind. Not even her mother or her sisters. Not even me.

----------

Castle Dimitrescu, Bela's Room - Present Days

"I'm hungry," Cassandra complained from the couch. "Pretty please... I'm helping you with the secret mission. A scrambled egg is enough."

"Tell Lady Dimitrescu to cook," Bela remained unmoved on her bed, staring at the ceiling while wearing Aleena's jacket. The one she borrowed her when the castle was attacked. It was the only memory she'd have from the woman she loved. "She was the one to kill all the servants."

Bela was listening to an old love song from the 60's. It was the one thing she was actually capable of doing in that moment. She couldn't even manage to create different scenarios about how she could kill Miranda inside her mind, or even wander around the castle searching for the cursed knife.

She knew Aleena had safely arrived in her house at the village. She sent one of her flies to follow her and observe her for how long it was possible. The girl was completely devastated, heartbroken and it killed her to see that. She could she glimpses of the moments where she sobbed while packing her bags and taking them to her old truck. But it was the best for both of them. She'd never be safe by Bela's side. Especially while Miranda was still around.

"This music is making me nauseous," Cassandra went to the disc player and turned it off. "You should've gone with her then."

"It was the safest for her. Mother would come after me immediately and take her back to Miranda's claws."

The brunette sister went to her own bedroom and returned with a book in hands, what surprised Bela because Cassandra wasn't much of a reader.

"Check this out. I asked the Duke to get you the sequel," and she started to read, adopting the same dramatic tone as usual. "As much as I struggled not to think of him, I did not struggle to forget. I worried — late in the night, when the exhaustion of sleep deprivation broke down my defenses — that it was all slipping away. That my mind was a sieve, and I would someday not be able to remember the precise color of his eyes, the feel of his cool skin, or the texture of his voice. I could not think of them, but I must remember them. Because there was just one thing that I had to believe to be able to live — I had to know that he existed. That was all. Everything else I could endure. So long as he existed."

"Ha ha, very funny," Bela rolled her eyes. Deep down she absorbed those words. She feared someday she'd forget all those small details about Aleena too, but knowing she existed someday, and that she loved her back, was enough for her to be able to live for the rest of her immortal days. "Next time, get us something useful. Like that fucking dagger."

The door opened and Daniela walked inside, pushing a food cart.

"I brought us dinner," she announced.

"Did you kidnap a villager to cook for us?" Cassandra asked, immediately grabbing a plate.

"Of course not! I cooked it myself. If Bela can do it, I can too."

The two eldest sisters exchanged a suspicious glance, before deciding they were not so hungry after all.

"And here is the main dish..." Daniela said, lifting the lid and revealing the content inside the silver pan. "A poisonous dagger."

"You did it!" Bela exclaimed, surprised and proud.

"Yes! Let's chop that bitch to pieces."

Daniela hugged her eldest sister again. It was happening too often lately, for Bela's discomfort. But this time, she accepted the hug.

"Where's mom?" Cassandra interrupted the moment. "I haven't heard from her since I left her alone in her bedroom."

The castle was way too quiet. It wasn't the first time the servants had to be gotten rid of and they were completely by themselves. Or maybe sometimes, Lady Dimitrescu would lock herself in the Opera House to play the piano or even read a book alone in her bedroom, but that wasn't the case this time. That was a different kind of silence. A silence that indicated danger, a threat.

"Mother?!" Cassandra called, followed by her two sisters. "Where are you?"

There was no answer. They were about to reach the library when the power went out, as well as the heating system. A wave of panic instantly spread over Bela's body. She feared the cold, more than anything.

"What the hell?!" Daniela yelled. "Who's there? I'm starving and angry, so don't mess with me!"

"Shhhh," Bela silenced her. She had a feeling, a hunch about who could it be. As they approached the office, her suspicions were confirmed by the argument coming from inside the room.

"Where is she, Alcina?!" They heard Miranda yelling. "You promised me to keep her safe!"

"Mother, I swear... she was in the dungeons! There was no way she could escape. The drug was supposed to keep her down until now."

"Your daughters... they must've helped her to escape. Decades trying to find the perfect vessel and they ruined it all. They'll deal with the consequences!"

"Mother, no! Don't hurt them, I'm begging you."

In that moment, the sisters witnessed as a powerful flock of birds started to fly around the caste, shattering all the windows. As the cold air of the night in the mountains filled the entire place, the three sisters knew their ending was imminent.

----------

Eastern Europe, Aleena's House - Present Days

The tears blurred my vision as I followed my way back to the village. Sometimes, I'd stop for a minute, hoping Bela would change her mind and come after me. Why would she assume I was safer without her? If there was someone who could protect me, that was she.

As soon as I arrived, I went straight to the garage, getting my old truck to come back to life. Then, I followed to my bedroom to pack my bags. There wasn't much I actually needed to take, mostly my clothes, my laptop and a few other important belongings. I didn't plan to sell the house anyways. I could come back and take the rest later, if I had to.

My books. I would definitely take at least my favorites. Most of them were gifts from my mom. I couldn't leave those precious treasures behind. As I grabbed one of them to place it inside of my luggage, a small piece of paper fell on the floor:

'Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds. It is an ever fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken. Love alters not with time's brief hours and weeks, but bears it out even to the edge of doom'.

I recognized it. It was an excerpt of William Shakespeare's Sonnet 116. Bela should've left it there when she was alone in my bedroom. In the end, she wrote: 'Please, think of me sometimes. I love you, forever'.

Of course I would. There was no way I'd ever stop loving that girl, or even forgetting about her at all. I could never forget about the girl who threw me the sweetest birthday party or made me the best pancakes in the world. And especially, the first girl I ever loved. I pressed the note against my chest, letting out a few tears. I placed it among my belongings, those I was going to take with me to California.

I heard the front door opening and I immediately grabbed my rifle and my blades too. Something had to at least cause some harm to that bitch. I was slowly going down the stairs in an attack position, when I heard a voice.

"Leena? Are you home?" That was my twin brother, Auryk. "I'm back."

"Auryk," I finally revealed myself. My first impulse was running to his arms, before I remembered all the lies and the betrayal. "You knew it. You fucking knew it and you hid it from me!"

"I'm sorry, okay? I was trying to keep you safe from Miranda. I planned to get you out of here before it all came to surface, but that bitch was already one step ahead."

"We have to go, right now. She's coming after me. I just escaped Castle Dimitrescu."

"Leena, no..." he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I thought I was clear when I asked you to stay in the castle until I returned."

"Auryk, she drugged me and locked me in the dungeons!" I yelled. "She was going to sacrifice me in a sick ritual tonight. Which part haven't you understand yet?"

"This was the plan, Aleena. When she was vulnerable, during the ritual, the agency would take the opportunity to explode this place and all these freaks."

"WHAT?! What about the village... and the people, their houses? What about ME?! What if I got killed in this process?"

"They're going to evacuate the village in a couple of hours," he explained. "And then, they'll help them to rebuild their lives or something... I don't know for sure. But they would protect us."

"Stop them!" I ordered. I couldn't let them hurt Bela or her sisters. Or even put the villagers in danger. Some of them, such as Olga, Elena and her father would never abandon that place and its traditions. "Right now! You're not going to hurt them. You won't!"

"Aleena, what the fuck? They're monsters! They're going to kill you!"

And then, I did the first thing that came to my mind. It was stupid, unplanned and completely reckless. I knocked my brother's head with the rifle. As soon as he fell unconscious on the floor, I tied him up and locked him inside Adrian's secret storage.

"I'm sorry, Auryk. But I must save my girlfriend."

[rauthschild]

The Dark Suits Rules the U.S. 

Vladimir Putin states aloud what aware people have come to realize:the dark suits of the NWO make up the Deep State and rule the U.S. & its puppet presidents. Dark suits run the U.S. and whatever figurehead puppet president that gets installed in the White House.

The same goes for many countries, including Russia, the home of President Vladimir Putin himself.

However, there is something distinctly and extraordinarily entrenched about the Shadow Government, Parallel Government or Deep State in the USA, which is of course what Putin was referring to in the below video.

FULL interview HERE...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=2&v=XP3D1sUSuzg&feature=emb_logo

The dark suits are the unelected bureaucracy or true ruling class that stays in office no matter which party on the spectrum is temporarily in power.

The dark suits are the international bankers. The dark suits are the mighty MIC (Military Intelligence Complex), the sprawling collection of 16 agencies (including the nefarious NSA and CIA, lesser known but still massive agencies like the DIA and NGA, and ominous agencies like the NRO [whose mission patches proudly proclaim mottos like "We Own the Night"]).

The diabolical influence of these dark suits can already be seen in the first 100 days of the Trump presidency, e.g. in the disgraceful ways Trump has flip-flopped more than a fish out of water on a multitude of issues.

Those aware of how the game works can see that the dark suits have already got to Trump.

Putin Exposes the Reality of the Dark Suits

In a recent interview (May 30th 2017, above video) with French media outlet Le Figaro, Putin joked about those in dark suits telling every successive and incoming U.S. presidential administration exactly what to do:

"You know, I've communicated with one U.S. president, and with the second, and with the third… presidents come and go but the politics remains the same.

Do you know why that is? Because the bureaucracy has a lot of power. So a person is elected, he comes with his ideas.

Then people with briefcases come to visit him - well dressed, in dark suits, kind of like mine. Except instead of a red tie it's black or navy. And then they explain what to do, and the whole rhetoric changes, you see?

This happens from one administration to the next."

The dark suits ensure the agenda, the New World Order agenda of a globalized central dictatorship with a,

world army

world bank

world carbon tax

world digital currency

genetically modified and microchipped population,

...always stays on course no matter which puppet is in power.

The ever eastwards-expanding NATO, who recently absorbed Montenegro into its ranks.

But it's purely for defense … right?

Image credit: InspireToChangeWorld.com

NATO's Internal Contradictions

Putin also remarked on NATO's internal contradictions:

"What interested me, from the recent NATO summit, is that they stated that they wished to improve relations with Russia.

Why then increase the defense budget? Who are you going to war against? There are some internal contradictions here - but it's none of our business. You decide within NATO who should be paid and how much - we're not worried about it.

We look after our own defense capability, we do it well and with a vision for the future. We are assured in ourselves."

Like Government in general, NATO needs an enemy in order to justify its own existence.

Logically, that enemy has to be Russia, since NATO has already absorbed many Western and Atlantic nations into its organization. It just gobbled up Montenegro in the Balkans to ensure Russia doesn't get too much of a foothold there.

In the beginning, NATO was set up to stop the spread of Soviet communism into the West via Europe. If Western leaders suddenly embraced Russia and begin to cooperate with it rather than demonize it, NATO would become irrelevant and, dare I say it… obsolete.

Speaking of obsolete, remember what Trump said about NATO and "obsolete"?

Click above image...

Trump:

"NATO is no longer obsolete" (after the dark suits spoke to him)

The Mythical Russian Threat

So it suits the Western leaders of the world right now to continue propagating the myth of the grave "Russian threat", both, for foreign policy (justifies military spending, buildup and wars) for domestic policy (justifies more draconian surveillance and laws in the name of stopping "Russian interference" in the election, as famously happened in the U.S. but also cropped up in France)

A constant theme of Putin's message for over a decade now has been for the nations of the world to unite against terrorism:

"First you invent [the mythical Russian threat], then you scare yourselves on this basis formulate policy.

This kind of policy has no future - there is only a future in a policy of cooperation across all spheres, including security. The main security threat in the world today is what? Terrorism.

They blow up Europe; in Paris, in Russia, in Belgium. There is a war in the Middle East.

This is what we should be thinking about, but here we are debating the threat that Russia poses."

The dark suits:

they've sold their souls and

(as Dutch whistleblower Ronald Bernard says)

frozen their consciences at -100°

to become devoid of humanity and empathy.

Conclusion: We've Been Through this Before

History repeats itself, because we subconsciously and unconsciously create similar scenarios in the outer world based on our underlying inner psychological states.

Paul Craig Roberts recently wrote (Van Cliburn: America's Greatest Diplomat) about how other previous U.S. and Russian presidents had to contend and struggle with their respective bureaucracies and military men who thrived on suspicion, fear and war, rather than cooperation, trust and peace.

He writes:

"Khrushchev achieved the de-Stalinization of Russia and worked with U.S. President John F. Kennedy to defuse the Cuban Missile Crisis. Their cooperation opened an end to the Cold War.

However, hardliners in both countries removed both leaders from office, thus condemning the world to the ever present risk of nuclear Armageddon…

The Zionist neoconservatives and the military/security complex have succeeded in destroying the accomplishment of Reagan and Gorbachev, and have resurrected the prospect of nuclear Armageddon."

Presidents and prime ministers have a hard job in many ways.

The hardest aspect may well be resisting the urge of the dark suits around them to constantly feed the fear, create new enemies, inject life into old enemies and play the game of separation politics.

It seems in Putin there is a leader who is genuinely prepared and able to go beyond those childish games and strive for cooperation and peace.

Is Trump mature and strong enough for that task?

Being a bully shows weakness of character; building a relationship of mutual trust and cooperation requires strength.

[burningsoprettily]

NO MORE - Star Wars Fic (2/2)

[Read the entire work on AO3]

[Part One on tumblr]

*

"We, as Jedi, have lost our way. We were once truly neutral, serving the people. And look at us now."

"Master Kenobi, we still serve the people to the best of our capabilities."

"No. We serve the people in power, rather than the people who truly need our help."

*

Of all Jedi, Obi-Wan Kenobi is one of the infamous Masters. He is known for his compassion and grace, implacable serenity in face of adversity. From the Initiates to his fellow Masters, most aspire to be like him.

So, when the Jedi in the Temple were faced with a Jedi Master, known for his unshakeable calm, striding through the corridors, simmering with fury, they knew something significant had happened.

All the Jedi could think was, 'Someone's going to get their ass kicked.' They know that Jedi aren't supposed to feel gleeful or hunger for drama, but when Obi-Wan karking Kenobi has thrown away his vaunted serenity for pure murderous fury, they think they can be excused.

The Force was swirling with whispers of change.

In the Council chamber, Master Yoda's ears flicked and he hummed. Yes, change there is. Change, there will be.

Elsewhere, Darth Sidious was filled with a strange sense of foreboding. Something was happening. Something he did not foresee. And he did not like it.

*

"Know better, you do, than the Council?"

"Considering the recent history of the Order's actions, that's not really setting the bar high, Master Yoda."

*

Tales of how Obi-Wan Kenobi stood up against the Council ('Stood up?' some would snicker on hearing about it. 'More like he gave them all a tongue-lashing so bad, we can still see Master Windu wincing at times.') was spoken in awed whispers, and passed on to the Jedi in all the corners of the Galaxy. Obi-Wan didn't know it then, but he had just set the precedence for the future Jedi, and that would save the Order from being decimated many times in the future.

Within few weeks, news slowly spread from planet to planet that something monumental was happening in Coruscant, in the Jedi Order and that it was all centered around General Kenobi. The troopers of 212th and 501st exchanged wary glances, knowing that General Skywalker would be right in the middle of the mess, side by side General Kenobi. Commander Cody steeled himself and started making contingency plans, and if worst comes to worst, evacuation plans too.

Some whispered that the Jedi were requisitioning clones of Kenobi. Others muttered derogatory comments, while hiding their curiosity. And there were some, tired and weary, who looked at the whispers and rumours with hope dawning in their eyes.

*

"What would you propose that we do, Master Kenobi?"

"Simply put, we need to declare ourselves as a neutral organisation again, instead of being beholden to the whims of the Senate. And we need to stop being people who condone slavery- no, do not deny it. Slavery is what the clones are being subjected to. And if you do not realise that, you are being willfully blind."

*

Anakin went back to the battlefront, after extensive discussion with Obi-Wan. He knew that his Master had a plan. So, while Obi-Wan will be tackling the Senate and the Republic as a whole, Anakin will be holding the fort, so to speak, along with Ahsoka.

*

"What do you mean when you say we have lost our way?"

"Look at what we have done, Masters, in the name of peace. Do you think this is what the Force intended for us? To become warmongers?"

*

After talking with Cody and Rex, it was unanimously decided that the 212th will be grounded at Coruscant, at the Temple to be precise. The public were told that the troopers needed a break. The true reason was that their General needed round-the-clock guarding of his person. (When asked if the clones don't trust their General to take care of himself, Cody gave them a look that it made the person, who put forth the query, feel like their entire lineage and their mental capacity had been called to question.)

*

"You say that you follow the Will of the Force. Tell me, Masters, can you really sense the Force's Will when there is nothing but Darkness on Coruscant? The Force is choked with so much despair and confusion on Coruscant, that it is a miracle we have not all Fallen already."

*

Ahsoka had always heard of how proper her Grandmaster was. From Anakin, the description was a bit more explicit, both fondness and exasperation coloring his tone. And from the remaining Jedi, she only ever witnessed utmost respect, admiration, sometimes envy, with regards to Master Obi-Wan. But for the first time, Ahsoka was seeing the side of Obi-Wan Kenobi that was the most true to him, the part that would stand for no injustice, the part that was truly Jedi. She understood then, as she watched her Grandmaster take apart and rebuild the Republic with just his words, that this was what inspired the loyalty and the bone-deep devotion that she had witnessed in the people who had been fortunate enough to have come under Obi-Wan's brand of protection.

*

"We were trained in the arts of diplomacy and negotiations. Let us be what we were trained for. Let us be Jedi of the Galaxy, rather than Generals in this pointless war. Let us negotiate for peace between the systems. The people deserve peace, not more bloodshed."

*

In another world, Anakin refused to believe Fives when the clone brought the chips to his notice. In this world, though he was filled with skepticism and disbelief, there was a part of him that Sidious hadn't managed to poison against his Master. And so, with the unwavering faith that his Master will be able to clear the confusion in his head, Anakin confided in Obi-Wan.

That changed everything.

Sidious did not know it then, but his plans had already crumbled to dust. As the Sith Lord, he had wanted to spread more pain and suffering in the Galaxy. He had seen the opportunity in Idien II, and had taken it.

And that? That had cinched his fate.

*

Afterwards, no one could be sure as to which declaration produced the most opposition; when Master Windu stated that the Jedi will stop participating in the War or when he stated that the Clones will be inducted as members of the Order, and hence out of reach of the Republic. (When the Senate appealed to the Kaminoans, their succint reply was, "The Clones were made for the Jedi, and hence they belong with the Jedi.")

Leaving the Senate building in an uproar, Windu recalled the Chancellor's face when he had made his declarations on behalf of all Jedi. The man had looked like he had been slapped in the face with a fish. Windu had taken great pleasure in that reaction as he had never liked Palpatine.

*

The withdrawal of Jedi from the war had one unexpected outcome. The Separatist Army, instead of continuing to take over planets, had come to a standstill. Though General Grievous was quite outspoken regarding the untrustworthy nature of the Jedi, Obi-Wan Kenobi in particular, the other members of the Confederacy remembered the times when the Jedi had come to their aid without any reservations.

When voted among themselves, the majority was overwhelmingly towards biding their time. They would wait, and if the Jedi (not the Republic) were to extend their help in negotiations for peace, then they would decide accordingly.

General Grievous' howls of outrage were rather unpleasant to hear for the others.

*

Jedi Masters Mace Windu, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker were lauded for their defeat of the Sith Lord Darth Sidious. The revelation that it was Chancellor Palpatine who was the Sith and the puppeteer who had controlled both sides of the war, produced shock and horror throughout the Galaxy.

*

Anakin had been reluctant to believe the worst of his friend. He had confided in the Chancellor, unloaded his deepest fears and darkest secrets. He had almost trusted him more than Obi-Wan ('almost' because the reason he never confided in Obi-Wan is not because he didn't trust him but because Anakin could never bear to see the look of disappointment on his Master's face).

When the Chancellor had pleaded and cajoled with Anakin, he had hesitated. But then Ahsoka had burst in, worried and determined to help them (Force, she was so much like him. He wondered if his child would have the same impulsive tendencies), and Sidious reflexively caught her with the Force, tightening his grip on her windpipe.

Seeing his Padawan in the air, hands grasping uselessly at her throat, unable to breathe, Anakin was struck dumb. He breathed in, focusing on Obi-Wan's singular faith in him, and surged into the fray, like a mother gundark attacking the enemy who dared to threaten her children.

The battle was over in minutes.

In the next second, Anakin was holding Ahsoka tightly and Obi-Wan joined in. Mace Windu looked at them and smiled, a little uptick in his lips, his Force presence surging with satisfaction and serene contentment.

*

It took two years for peace to be established again, between the Republic and the Independent Systems. Obi-Wan was the most sought after Jedi for negotiations, and him being who he was, he never refused a request. Hence, by extension, Anakin ("Like kark I'm letting you go without me, Master!"), Ahsoka ("I am your Grandpadawan, and Anakin's Padawan. Where you go, I go.") and Cody ("With all due respect, General, but you're not going anywhere without me.") were run ragged too.

There was an inner peace to Obi-Wan that Anakin had never observed in him till now. Knowing how much of a toll the War had taken on all of them, he was not surprised. Rather, he was glad that his Master could be who he was always meant to be.

The Galaxy will always be in chaos. There will be unrest, yes. But now the Jedi can focus on doing their Force-given duty.

Seeing Obi-Wan guiding a batch of clones in meditation, Anakin smiled softly.

Things were looking up, finally.

*

"Master Kenobi, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course, youngling. And call me Obi-Wan, dear one."

"Okay, Master Ken- sorry, Master Obi-Wan. What made you want to take decisive steps to stop the Clone Wars?"

"There will come a time for every Jedi, where our faith, in everything we hold true to, will be tested. You will have a choice then. You can choose either to keep going, taking what is being thrown at you and continue enduring. Or, you can stop, and say no. Is whatever is happening the Will of the Force? Remember, we are Jedi and we are part of the Order. But being a Jedi means more than just following orders and living by the Code. It means following the Force. And sometimes, rarely when the Council says yes, and the Force says no, you'll have to choose what kind of a Jedi you are. The one who follows the Council or the one who follows the Force."

"Is that what you did, Master? You said 'no'?"

"The Force was screaming 'no', little one. It had been screaming for a long time. So, I chose to say 'no more'."