#if june were real id tell her to kill herself

[1eos]

You know its something i still find confusing about white people and culture as a whole. (I mean it isnt cause facism but also i honestly cant wrap my head arpund it) This girl was 'rivals' with Athena for who knows how long and didnt even....research her competition? Try to understand it? Yknow. Basic comprehension i learned when i was 12. Something I assume yale tests for? Just because it wasnt something she immidietly mesh with and was about a culture that isnt hers. God i hope she dies.

white ppl inherently don't believe any other culture is interesting or worth looking into (beyond men making up fantasies on how submissive and easily manipulated into sexual servitude are but ntm on that) which is crazy considering like 99% of their history is going to other places and stealing shit from other cultures. but it also makes sense bc they go everywhere and try to make them catholic and miserable. theyre like those viruses that are just programmed to seek and destroyolalkgklagkl. but in yellowface june's whole resentment is that she thinks athena's culture is surface level and a ploy to look 'cool' when the girl is just in touch w her ancestry. and june refuses to understand it bc she thinks its beneath her so she's fucking FURIOUS that other ppl aren't as close minded and arrogant and chalk it up to the industry wanting a diversity hire when we all know the industry may throw a girl a bone to look diverse but you're not gonna skyrocket no where unless u have the chops bc only white ppl (and bts) get to the top being mediocre 😭😭😭😭😭😭 and what's even wilder is that june only does research on athena's cultural interests to suit her purpose and after declaring herself an expert so much she doesnt need a sensitivity reader she still doesn't respect chinese history or the story athena was trying to tell bc all that lack of melanin fucked w her ability to truly care abt the struggle of anyone but her own floppage due to be an untalented hack without a voice

[a-flickering-soul]

EverymanHYBRID And Deer In Media: In Five Parts (click for individual comparisons)

Deer are both a symbol of fragile purity and the untamable wild–here, we examine deer in the context of man, where deer come to represent the urge within us to abandon the conscious ego for the subconscious id. The deer is a symbol, too, of rebirth, of transformation, of shedding and regrowing its weapons each year. To kill, to be reborn, to choose to be monstrous through our proximity to humanity. Is there not something pure in surrendering to animal instinct? If deer are the twin themes of innocence and wildness, then we in turn are the juxtaposition of humanity and monstrousness–our actions made monstrous by the attempt to temper them with humanity.

(transcript, analysis, and sources below cut)

1: The Secret History & EverymanHYBRID--Bodies

The Secret History, on the killing of a man in a hallucinatory bacchanal:

"'Henry,' I said at last. 'Good God.' "He raised an eyebrow. 'Really, it was more upsetting than you can realize,' he said. 'Once I hit a deer with my car. It was a beautiful creature and to see it struggling, blood everywhere, legs broken ... And this was even more distressing but at least I thought it was over. I never dreamed we'd hear anything else about it.'"

EverymanHYBRID, "Ryan and the SEVENTRIALSOFHABIT":

A shot of a deer's dead body at the side of the road at night, looking crumpled and not quite right. The captions read: "Jeff: It's a fucking deer, dude. (Evan: See it?) Yeah. Something cut its belly open. (Evan: It cut its belly open the wrong way.)"

Parallels drawn:

Consider this one an amuse-bouche. Henry draws comparisons between a man he killed to a deer he accidentally hit with a car, mildly naming the incident ‘distressing’. There is a lack of human empathy, of guilt over killing a fellow man. In comparison, Jeff, Evan, and Vinnie at this point in the EMH plotline have not yet become hunter or hunted–they have not yet been warped by their roles in this iteration and can acknowledge the upsetting nature of the events that befall them. Henry has tasted that amoral nature and is less human for it, more visibly willing to shed that veneer of attempting to care about other people. Jeff, Evan, and Vinnie have not yet reached that point.

2: “Whoso List to Hunt”, EverymanHYBRID, and The Secret History--The Chase

"Whoso List to Hunt", on hunting a fabled white hind:

"I am of them that farthest cometh behind./ Yet may I by no means my wearied mind/ Draw from the deer, but as she fleeth afore/ Fainting I follow. I leave off therefore,/ Sithens in a net I seek to hold the wind./ Who list her hunt, I put him out of doubt,/ As well as I may spend his time in vain. And graven with diamonds in letters plain/ There is written, her fair neck round about:/ Noli me tangere, for Caesar's I am,/ and wild to hold, though I seem tame."

EverymanHYBRID, "Slushpops and Surprises”

A shot of white text on a black page, "[Enter the tragic hero and his unattainable companion.]"

The Secret History, on hallucinations experienced during the bacchanal (bold for emphasis):

“‘Camilla said that during part of it, she’d believed she was a deer; and that was odd, too, because the rest of us remember chasing a deer through the woods, for miles it seemed. Actually it was miles. I know that for a fact. Apparently we ran and ran and ran, because when we came to ourselves we had no idea where we were.’”

EverymanHYBRID, “December & early January”:

A shot of Vinnie, hand covering his face in shock, as he sits and listens to Jessa’s last voicemail before she went missing. Jeff can be seen in the background, listening in silence. The captions read “[Jessa’s voice, recorded]: Steph, that thing you were talking about, I saw it...he’s real, he’s right here. What the hell does he want? I think he’s following me.”

Parallels drawn:

The deer symbolizes wild nature, something that man cannot obtain, touch, or capture without abandoning something of his own humanity. Similarly, deer represent the unattainable prey. Noli me tangere, says Caesar’s unattainable deer– touch me not, no matter how hard you may attempt to catch me. Jessa of EMH is deemed the unattainable companion and Jeff’s driving force to discover the truth behind the situation they’ve been placed in–it is Jessa, dangled in front of him after she goes missing, that leads Jeff down the path that inevitably leads to his own death after uncovering too much. The deer is to be chased, to be hunted, and never captured. Camilla from The Secret History believed herself to be a deer during the same hallucinatory bacchanal that cost a man his life, and led her brother and friends on a chase spanning miles. Jessa was hunted by an unknowable force, then used as bait to draw her partner down the path to his own death. Unattainability, the shape of something fleeing in front of you, elicits a powerful reaction to follow, to hunt, to chase. Jessa fell victim to that reaction. Camilla, and the white hind, did not.

3: The Myth of Diana and Actaeon, EverymanHYBRID, and The Secret History--Madness

The Diana and Actaeon Fountain at the Caserta Royal Palace:

The detail of the fountain shown depicts the pivotal scene in the myth of Actaeon and Artemis, where Actaeon, mid-transformation into a stag, is killed for the slight of viewing the goddess Artemis nude.The sculpture shows the transformation in no mercy, plain in its depiction of Actaeon’s pain and terror, and the simple ferocity of the hounds that surround him.

EverymanHYBRID, “May & June”:

A shot of Jeff, blood spattered across him, speaking with a shocked and angry tone. The captions read, “Jeff: Why were we doing that? That was...that’s not what we were looking for. We knew damned well that wasn’t what we were trying to kill. (Vince: Close enough.) It was a deer! It was a fucking deer! I tried to pull you off, you tried to punch me in the fucking face!”

The Secret History, on the Greeks’ view of beauty and terror (bold for emphasis):

“Beauty is terror. Whatever we call beautiful, we quiver before it. And what could be more terrifying and beautiful to souls like the Greeks or to our own, than to lose control completely? To throw off the chains of being for an instant, to shatter the accident of our mortal selves? Euripedes speaks of the Maenads: head thrown back, throat to the stars, ‘more like deer than human being’.”

Parallels drawn:

Most depictions of Actaeon, sculpture or painting, usually show him with antlers or a deer lower body, leaving his head and face a recognizable human shape. However, the sculptor here decided to subvert expectations and leave his body human, giving Actaeon the animal head of a stag. The loss of control and the descent from human to animal is not glorified or made palatable by the mere addition of a crown of antlers--there is only the one constant, fear, that follows him all the way down. Madness may be defined as a loss of control, and there may be something beautiful and terrifying in feeling your sanity slip through your own fingers. Jeff, Evan, and Vinnie are overtaken by brief, inexplicable madness and tear apart a deer as they come dangerously close to uncovering exactly who and what is hunting them. They skate close to seeing soemthing they shouldn't see. It is only Jeff who looks up, shocked by the blood on his hands, and voices his fear. Vinnie, apathetic, lets it go. But Evan, houndlike and irrational, defends his kill.

4: EverymanHYBRID & Hannibal--Warnings and Temptation

EverymanHYBRID, “May & June”:

A shot of Evan, spattered heavily with blood, standing with shoulders caved in protectively. His left hand is raised to his mouth, with his hair covering his eyes, and he is licking the blood off of his fingers.

“Shot Through The Hart, and Hannibal’s To Blame” (bold for emphasis):

“In my post about ravens, I talked about how it’s not always easy to tell what the Ravenstag really means. Is it evidence of the Hannibalesque elements of Will’s soul? Or a warning of those parts growing within him? Does the Ravenstag urge Will forward on his journey, or warn him of what’s to come?”

Hannibal, Season 1, Episode 1 “Aperitif”:

A shot of the Ravenstag, staring directly into the camera with one hoof up, as if to approach. There are black feathers interwoven with its pelt and its eyes have an uncanny shine.

Parallels drawn:

On a naturalistic note, deer are skittish creatures. They have thin legs and a sleek body, made for running. A small head and big eyes, placed wide-set to see coming predators. Keen ears. They are ready at any moment to sense danger, warn others, and flee. When a deer does not move, it is either safe or sizing up its options, either accepting where it is or preparing to run. Deer, staring directly at the viewer, come as a sympathetic warning to flee or, in its dark eyes and firm stance, a temptation. Me tangere, they say. Come closer. We are one and the same. In Bryan Fuller’s Hannibal, the commanding presence of the Ravenstag serves as both a warning and a beckoning temptation to turn his feet down the darker path. It is otherworldly, black-furred and feathered, and yet a warning of events rooted in the real world--does Will understand what danger he is in upon meeting Hannibal and take the warning, or will he ignore it, sensing that same darkness in himself, that same potential for corruption? In EverymanHYBRID, it is that same killing of a deer that hints at that same potential for darkness growing inside Evan. He licks at his fingers, animalistic, fully ignoring his own Ravenstag warning signs for the delight of the hunt. Is he Evan anymore? Or is something else growing inside him?

5: EverymanHYBRID & Hannibal--Predator and Prey, or the Final Act

EverymanHybrid, “:D”:

A shot of HABIT, looking up a set of stairs with one foot on the bottom step. In one hand down by his side, he is holding a knife. His posture is tilted forward, poised, ready to spring into action, like that of a hunter.

“Shot Through The Hart, and Hannibal’s To Blame” (bold for emphasis):

“The idea of deer as symbols of rebirth also stands out to me. Hannibal is a series obsessed with becoming and transformation. People start one way, and are reborn as something completely other by the end of the show. There’s even a character sewn up into a deceased pregnant horse in the hopes that when she’s released, she will be literally reborn as something different. It’s thus a neat fit, this significance of deer with the themes of the show.”

EverymanHYBRID, “:D”:

A shot of Jeff, looking up and to the side with an expression of caution and fear. His eyes are unnerved, squinting as, from offscreen, HABIT’s hand plays idly with his hat.

Parallels drawn:

The first and final incarnation of the deer is, of course, prey. Beyond and before any symbolism of innocence and wildness and warnings, deer are prey animals, to be hunted and devoured. And yet, in keeping with the concept of contrasting symbolism, deer are not helpless. Yearly, they shed and regrow their antlers in a transformation of horn and blood. At the climax of EverymanHYBRID, the final reveal, the final transformation, comes to fruition. HABIT, formerly Evan, takes its place as the Hunter, the archetypal predator, with Jeff shown most prominently as the Prey. Jeff’s luck has run its course, with him in the chair as the sacrificial prey-victim to fall to HABIT’s knife. HABIT, reborn, reiterated, made incarnate through Evan’s unwilling transformation, is poised to start the hunt. This is the big reveal, the crux of the transformation, Actaeon caught mid-transfiguration and the bloody sloughing-off of velvet humanity to reveal perfect and gleaming antlers. This is what it comes down to, time and time again. The hunter and the hunted. The wilderness embraced and the wilderness captured, and the monstrosity in that act.

Works Cited

Callimachus. Actaeon and Artemis. C. 220 BC

Fuller, Bryan. “Apetirif.” Hannibal, season 1, episode 1, NBC, 4 Apr. 2013.

Koval, J., Caffarello, V., &; Jennings, E. (Directors). (2011, July 12). May & June [Video file].

Koval, J., Caffarello, V., &; Jennings, E. (Directors). (2012, October 9). :D [Video file].

Tartt, Donna. The Secret History. Penguin, 2006.

Uhminuh. “Shot Through the Hart, and Hannibal's to Blame.” Read the Rude, Wordpress, 19 July 2020.

Wyatt, Thomas. “Whoso List to Hunt, I Know where is an Hind.” c. 1530.

Honorary mention to this fanart by @/rrhaes that started this whole spiral

[dcbnam-aep]

715- amina

pre-ep thoughs

- I already know that this is alycias last episode and i cant say im ready

- alicia is literally my fav character ever I cant believe she’s leavingggg

- but at the same time alycia will be great at whatever role she plays next and shell always have my support so yuh

- anyways on to the ep AKA my breaking point ksjdjjf

ep thoughts-

- straying with a montage of a dying, hallucinating, semi-unconscious alicia wow

- this better be 47 minutes if just alicia

- HER BEING SO OUT OF EVERYTHING BUT SAYING HI TO THE BIRD STOP SHES THE LOML

- the way she’s so shaky sitting up

- june taking her pulse slay

- ‘do not stand up… bring fever under control it will kill you’ owch from the get go

- ‘you need to rest’ alicia pls listen to the doctor and rest

- aannndddd she’s hallucinating again

- she doesn’t know if she’s hallucinating or not

- ok she’s chasing after a hallucination ok then

- it better be her as a child or else 😤

- she rlly just walked into the radiation world as everyone is trying to LEAVE and is not answering her comms

- oh good she answered thank god

- ‘don’t come looking for me’ GIRLIE

- debilitating hallucinations and we’re not even 5 mins in

- almost died count: 1

- THE FLASHBACKS NOOO

- HER TAKING HER MASK OFF DOUBLE NOOOOO OMFG SHES ALREADY DYING

- HER SEEING HER REFLECTION AS A ZOMBIE NOOO

- lol the kid is actually real

- actually my bets are the kid still isn’t real and she’s hallucinating it all to keep the last of her mental sanity

- and since the kid won’t say her name or take the mask off that’s what’ll happen at the very end as she dies kskdnnf

- if the kids ‘friend’ is nick i will SCREAM

- not the kid quoting Alicia’s mum istg it’s literally young her I called this ages ago

- ‘I’ve been fighting a long time’ GIVE BESTIE A BREAK AND HAPPINESS

- not the madison tape talking bout the bird and alicia said hi to a bird

- awww she’s taking it with her and once she dies madison will get it back

- ‘I barely made it here’

- ok at least she’s going for self preservation now slay

- the way she just grabbed the gun and didn’t care

- ‘to do something that might outlast me’ awwww bestie ur memory will live on forever

- yeah u can beat it and help ur friends ‘that’s not true’ owch

- the way the kid has the bite mark in the same place literally baby alicia stop-

- kinda devo ive got no happy scenes for literally a season and now she’s gonna die

- her making fun of young her being short

- almost die count: 2

- she literally cant even stand up stop it

- not her planning on killing herself very much owch

- i dislike that the child is saying how she’ll be find and giving us all hope and then she dies die like that’s so cruel

- i get queerbaited enough now im getting deathbaited do ksjjdjd

- if she’s going to the tower Strand better be with her when she dies

- and she’s fainted. Again.

- the child literally talks and acts like alicia

- The bullet she’s gonna use to kill berserker around her neck

- and now she’s being carried to the start like the beginning again

- luciana queen

- and now there’s no child cause alicia walkied them ugh too predictable

- her mind making things up to make things make more sense for herself is sad

- ok like give her a tranquilizer and put her on the raft and keep her safe jeez its not that hard

- if she saves the girl she’s saving herself stop this foreshadowing of survival is CRUEL

- alicia doesn’t wanna die 🥹🥹

- she knows she sounds crazy lol

- ayyy luciana teaming up to help alicia slay

- Everyone joining to help her

- ahhh happy s5 nostalgia where they were all one happy family not off on separate storylines slayyyy

- not her loading the gun arghhh owchies

- trailer scene power walk icon shit

- alicia telling everyone why they need to live and then sending herself in to die hurts

- ‘I have to do this on my own’ giving Lexa

- the cgi fire also hurts im not kidding i could literally do better

- id say ftwd should hire me but i wouldn’t get to cgi alicia so no

- shes walking like a walker owch

- ‘im not sure i can make it’ owch again

- shes telling herself she can do itttt

- also the birds there again maybe she hallucinated that the first time to

- kinda want a flashback of how she got down from the burning tower ngl

- SHES NOT READY TO DIE AND THEYRE GONNS KILL HER ANYESY FTWD WRITERS PLS LEAVE NOW

- her friend is strand aka alicias friend already this is all so obvious and pointless I hate that this delusional alicia is the last we’re gonna get she’s such an amazing character and deserves so much better ksjjdjdj

- *chanels anger and grief and emotions into keyboard smashes* jsjdjdjjdjdj

- the slo-mo of her almost fainting again djjdjfj

- her grabbing her head and looking broken and done with herself so much owch

- strand is her family when rlly madison her actual mother is coming back next ep and shes already gonna be dead

- oop she fainted. Again again.

- and ofc the kid fainted too cause they’re the same duh

- she actually can’t stand and walk and breath at the same time

- the bird cgi is so bad I could cry

- Strand where u at come comfort alicia already

- he’s gonna be drunk asf

- oh guess what he’s drunk asf

- i mean at least alycia got to film some of her last scenes with bestie colman

- she’s got survivors guilt

- ‘making what she gave us mean something. to do what she didn’t get to.’ Well screw that cause she’s still gonna get to and alicias last years are gonna be for literally nothing

- ‘it’s not fair’

- SHES HOLDING A GUN TO HER OWN HESD AND CRYING AND SAYING SORRY THAT IS NOT IK LEAVE HER SKINE

- FLASHBACKS TO ALL HER FRIENDS STOP AND WHEN SHE WAS HAPPY

- IF SHE PULKS THE TRIGGER ISTG

- oop the bird pulled to the window so she’ll be fine it’s all g

- the madison flashbacks are unnecessary

- They’re undermining Alicia’s entire story because they’re bringing madison back instead and I hate it

- it they’re gonna do both they can do it in a way that brings both characters justice

- the reveal that it was alicia all along i wonder who called it oh yeah that’s right me 🙄

- THIS WHOLE EP HAS BEEN SO UNDERWHELMING AND POINTLESS I WOULDVE PREFFERED HER TO TURN IN HER SLEEP OR GO OUT ON THE BOATS WITH HER FRIENDS AND KNOW SHES DONE SOMETHING RIGHT

- the idea that she hasn’t lost her inner child didn’t involve needing an actual child it could just be her staying rational and sticking to her true values- literally the opposite of everything the writers have done

- i hate ftwd why are they doing this

- stop with the madison referenced we literally all know she’s coming back just give alicia a respectful ending omfg

- cut to them carrying her again

- wow called it again

- IF THATS THE END IM FUCKING MAD

- ok its not the end

- they’re not gonna tell us what she said why???? literally why is any of this happening??? none of the characters are getting development of closure??

- at least charlie saw a beach the single redeemable thing about this episode

- and alicia got thanked that’s good

- luciana wanting to go in the raft with her go bestie

- strand taking initiative and going as well that would have been such a better ending

- this episode has been so not-alicia and i genuinely hate it

- strand would knock her out and put her in the boat not just paddle the fuck away

- and now alicias final act is giving strand closure when she deserves the love

- ok she got 1 (ONE) teary smile and that was it

- her little wave is depressing asf but she adorable

- AND SHE FUCKING COLLAPSED WITH THE GUN IN HER HAND WHAT-

- the bird flying above her-

- she’s awake and not sweaty is this meant to be heaven? im confused

- drink that water gal

- no fever slay

- little alicia not a slay she can go away pls

- ok the bite marks gone and she’s safe now I didn’t need little alicia for that

- SHE COULD HAVE GONE ON THE BOATS WITH EVERYONE CAUSE SHES FINE AND SURVIVED THE BITE FUCK-

- DID THEY EVEN LEAVE HER A RAFT??

- ok got another smile which was stupid in the context but ill take it

- ‘I feel like myself’ yeah well the ftwd writers clearly haven’t been watching the past 6 seasons cause shes not acting like herself

- so they’re just gonna end with her walking off into the supposedly uninhabitable land and leave it like that??

- only good symbolic bit all ep was the very very end when she shot the walker with the last bullet she had saved for herself

- at least she’s not dead so I can make canon-compliment fix-it fics in my head

- pulled an althea not dead but potential chance to come back into the series even tho it will probably never happen???

- overall a pretty shit episode did even get close to the justice and farewell alicia deserves but at least she’s alive and alycia acknowledged how much love she had for the character and support she felt from the fans so there’s that I guess

- ftwd is dead to me but alicia will live on in my heart forever 🫶

[spade-riddles]

Submission:

This is an optimistic take, but maybe the 9 words ahead of the ellipsis in the final few Spade riddles are the "nine that sit in [the Ides of March's] view." I had never thought to count the words before, thanks @chickawah23!

Those riddles were sent in June, which was 9 months ago. Maybe the first 9 words/letters ("THEY ARE FR") indicate 1 month each. Which takes us to this month, March, and coincides with the Ides of March.

Reminder: The Ides of March was the date Caesar was assassinated in 44 BC. (By the way, Kayda currently has 44 posts on her insta.) The Ides were also a deadline for settling debts... which kind of sounds to me like a day for getting even/getting back at the people who have wronged you.

Taylor put "Et tu, Brute?" in the LWYMMD music video. That's a line made famous by Shakespeare's play, Julius Caesar. Let me draw some parallels between the play and Taylor's life.

In the play: Caesar and Brutus are friends/friendly. A group of conspirators convinces Brutus to help them assassinate Caesar for the good of Rome-- they're afraid he'll become too powerful. Brutus eventually agrees to help. The Ides of March come and the conspirators stab Caesar 23 times. The final blow comes from Brutus, and in the play, Caesar says, "Et tu, Brute?" meaning, "And you, Brutus?" Someone he trusted turned against him and delivered the final blow.

After Caesar's death, his reputation actually improves as people remember the good things he did for them. The assassins are driven out of town. Brutus is visited by Caesar's ghost one night, who tells him, "I'll see you at Phillipi." Meaning, Brutus will be defeated at the battle of Phillipi. This ends up being true-- Brutus is defeated and dies by suicide.

In real life: I'm thinking Taylor is Caesar and maybe Brutus represents SB2? Taylor gets stabbed in the back by Sc*tt, who she trusted. She's dead. "You had to kill me, but it killed you just the same." Taylor is redeemed after her "death" and SB2 are pretty widely hated.

But Taylor is still haunting SB2... taunting them about their upcoming defeat. "You know I didn't want to have to haunt you / But what a ghostly scene." "If I'm on fire, you'll be made of ashes too." "I rose up from the dead, I do it all the time." "They strike to kill and you know I will."

This leads us to the battle, which is another metaphor Taylor uses. "So yeah, it's a war, it's the goddamn fight of my life..." Maybe Taylor herself doesn't win the war, but neither of the SBs win either. And after they're defeated, well... "You'll poke that bear till her claws come out / Then you'll find something to wrap your noose around." (Figuratively, in case that's not clear.)

Long story short, Monday is the Ides. It's 9 months and a few days after the "..." riddle. Optimistically, maybe SB2 will see some karma next week. Maybe the previous nine months were the worst of it, and now that we're through it... well, there are only two letters/words left after the ellipsis. Maybe in the next couple of months, everyone will be exonerated. Which takes us to June, Pride month, when THEY ARE FREE is completed.

In the full riddle, the "…🖤." could mean something is over in May and the "..." means we had to wait-- the riddle was foreshadowing. The black heart was sent on May 31, 2020. And if you assume the "..." is the month of March, "Revolution" is February, "Fervent" is January, and so on, the black heart is May.

So my interpretation is that the full riddle means, "Something ends on May 31, 2021. Then THEY ARE FREE." Possibly April and May will be easier to "see through" than the prior 9 months? Then freedom in June? I hope so.

[llendrinall]

1/2 I love the way you write Draco and personally I think Draco would've been terrified during the war and somehow grew a pair and got the courage to work against Voldy on his own terms from inside the ranks. Working not for Dumbledore but for himself to get his parents out safe (Id think he polyjuiced 2 ppl/animals and imperiused them to act and think like his parents while his real parents were in hiding or something)

2/2 So I think he created a powerful organisation by himself as a teenager and kept it going long past the war. And the best part is it isnt even a evil organisation. Just one that has its hands in every single thing imaginable. The best part is that if another war broke out Draco's Organisation would be able to squash it in 10 seconds flat. The man is powerful and no one knows. Except for Harry who's his husband and knows fully well what he does.

 It’s not just a question of courage, though. Or, at least, courage as we usually understand it. It’s about relations and how stories work.

You see, there is a reason why so many characters in stories are orphans or become orphans at the beginning of the story. The reason is that parents get in the way. There is this expectation that parents should be the ones fixing things, the ones with authority and with the last word. As long as parents are around, children have to obey and they can’t shoulder the story on their own.

In this case, Draco’s biggest and most immediate challenge isn’t finding a way to bring Voldemort down, or avoid arising His Darkness suspicions, or circumventing the always vigilant Bellatrix. No, the main obstacle is his parents and the fact that they won’t listen to him.

This is how Lucius gets himself sent to Azkaban. He didn’t listen.

Draco doesn’t set to create a powerful shadow organization that gives him insurmountable power. He is just a scared kid who wants to protect his mum. Sure, his mother says everything will be all right and that professor Snape will help, and aunt Bella says Draco will bring victory and honour to the house; but Draco is not so certain. He wants to believe them but he would feel better if he had other assurances.

So while his mother takes aunt Bella to go talk to Snape, Draco fills a cauldron with white wax and milk. He spends the whole night in his bedroom working with it and by sunrise he has a life-sized doll that makes a passable impression of Narcissa. Animating her is a bit more difficult because one book says to use spit and a candle and another book says to use blood. In the end he goes by a third book that says to use something living, so Draco grabs a mouse from the dungeons, lights a candle, drops some blood, puts the mouse inside the doll’s mouth and look at that, a breathing, moving and talking Narcissa!

True, she doesn’t talk that much. The process to create a fake wife was obviously intended so the wizard could steal the human wife and leave the doll behind, not the other way around. But she is good enough. Just in case, Draco pretends to have a fight with his mother and hex her in the heat of the moment. Bella screams at him for an hour and Voldemort says that he admires the lengths Draco is willing to go, but that he expects Draco not to get too carried away. The way he says it, as if laughing at Draco’s desperation, is horrible, just horrible. But, if Narcissa looks a bit lost from then on, nobody questions it.

The real Narcissa is trapped inside a mirror and beside herself with anger. Draco has to keep the mirror in a velvet bag inside a wooden box because he is afraid someone will hear his mother’s screams. The important part is that she is safe and if only she stopped coming to the mirror’s surface to yell at Draco she could admire the room Draco made for her, it is very nice.

Draco sets to do the Dark Lord’s bidding and kill Dumbledore. He does, he actually does. If it had been Potter, Draco might have acted differently. But it is Dumbledore and Draco could never stand the old fart, so he doesn’t feel bad about planning his death.

It is not after his third chat with Moaning Myrtle that it occurs to him that Voldemort expects Draco to fail. That bastard! Can you believe it? He tells Snape about it and Snape agrees which is even more incensing. Voldemort wants Draco to die. Snape assures him that it won’t be so and that he will ensure Draco’s success. The Malfoy family will be forgiven, of course, don’t fret about that. But all Draco can think about is how he is going to ensure Voldemort’s defeat.

First point of his plan: put a curse on any and all of Voldemort’s true followers. Draco is not completely satisfied with the wording because he knows Voldemort has many incidental and opportunistic followers, so perhaps “Death-Eater” would be better. But then again, not all of his true followers have a mark in the arm. Also, Draco has a mark of his own and he doesn’t want to curse himself.

The fact that no one has attempted a curse like this since the fifteenth century doesn’t faze him, nor that said attempt was a failure. There are many documented cases from the thirteen century that were successful and Draco is sure he can do as well as them if no better.

It is not easy to lay a curse like this. Draco doesn’t have the power to do it. Fortunately, he has the good sense to realize what his medieval counterparts took years to discover: no human has such power. He has to borrow it from another creature.

Thus Draco signs his first magic contract with a spirit from the cemetery at Hogwarts. It’s not a ghost and not whatever-the-fuck Peeves is. It is simply a spirit, one who is happy to give Draco a boost in exchange for some warmth and a fresh bouquet of flowers. Now Draco can turn invisible and wander around the restricted section of the library where he finds a lot about curses but not enough about people with whom he could make a pact.

Next he binds to a spirit haunting the crossroads before Hogsmeade. The spirit is happy to do Draco’s bidding in exchange for a secret, any secret. So Draco tells him that amortentia smells to him like Quidditch leather, and the Hogsmeade Crossroads Spirit looks around all the magic roads and tells Draco about the dark creatures moving between them.

Meanwhile Snape and Bella are getting on his case because Draco is no closer to killing Dumbledore and apparently his last attempts were, according to Snape, “stupid and lazy” and Draco ought to be ashamed of himself if he is not to even going to pretend to take this seriously. So Draco makes a trip to Knocturn Alley to examine the vanishing cabinet at Borgin and Burkes and advance the official plan a bit. He also visits the Malfoy vault at Gringotts.

He stays three hours in there, in the dark. When nothing happens, Draco brings out a bag and puts it over his head and he carefully and very, very, slowly begins to suffocate himself until he can see colourful sparks behind his eyelids and his lungs burn and finally, finally, he senses a malevolent presence, something made of the last exhalations of those who died inside the bank. The Exhalation of Gringotts is strong and cruel and drives a very hard bargain, but Draco wasn’t sorted in Slytherin simply because every other family member was and because he wished to be in that house. He knows to be careful and cunning, so he lets The Exhalation of Gringotts believe that staring at the sky from sunset to sunrise and then giving that sight to them (The Exhalation of Gringotts is a them) is a high price in exchange for their strength and their knowledge of pain.

Draco actually enjoys the night he spends looking at the sky and he promises to do it again, just for himself, and indeed the very next Friday he does.

He lays his curse the first Sunday of May. Waiting until June 24th would had been better but he can’t afford to wait so long. He needs it now, a curse on the fortune of any and all true followers of Voldemort.

He gives the Hogsmeade Crossroads Spirit three more secrets (the time he wished a kiss for himself, the truth of Bellatrix’ rage and one of his smallest pet peeves) and he finds how well his curse his doing and who should be his next target. As suspected, many of Voldemort’s followers have enough selfish motivations to escape his curse.

Draco doesn’t have anything of interest to offer the ondines, but the goblins do and the goblins merely want some historical artefacts back which is easy enough to arrange. He has to make a couple of new pacts with the Spirit of the Empty Grave and the Susurrus at Whitehall but he gets the artefacts for the goblins who, it turn, give whatever that thing was (it looked like a comb but it was not) to the ondines, who are happy enough to join Draco because he was very respectful and polite and apparently they were a bit miffed that both Voldemort and Dumbledore had ignored them. Somehow all this translates into people coming in contact with the river Avon and being instantly cleaned from the imperius curse. Not that many people come into contact with said river but accidents can be arranged if you have a couple of swarms at your service, which Draco has.

The swarms are by far the most joyful of Draco’s associates and also the hardest to please. Giving secrets to the Hogsmeade Crossroads Spirit is dangerous, sure, and balancing the requests of the Spirit from the Cemetery at Hogwarts and the Spirit of the Empty Grave can be lethal if he is not careful. But the swarms asked for a song each and it is not so easy to compose an original song, let alone two. Fortunately, the swarms were so pleased with Draco’s effort that as long as Draco writes them new verses from time to time they won’t even ask for another song or melody.

Draco takes a bit longer to secret Lucius away because he is very busy and also a bit angry with his dad. If only Lucius had listened to him, Draco wouldn’t have signed any contracts nor sworn pacts or shook hands with half the forgotten magical creatures of England. Said creatures are actually very nice and have quite interesting things to say. Less than half of them pose a direct threat of madness and/or death to Draco. But he didn’t know that back then and he is angry at his father for the risk he was force to take.

At least Narcissa seems almost happy and relieved when Draco pushes Lucius into the mirror. It’s nice that someone here (other than the swarms) appreciate Draco’s efforts.

Harry wins the war. There is no doubt about that. Harry is the one finding and destroying horcruxes and the one who kills Voldemort at the end.

But Draco helps. Draco gets him time and space. Harry Potter is the most wanted person in England and he spends months without anyone being able to find him, no Death Eater or werewolf or ogre or troll or any of the creatures that work for Voldemort. None. Sure, there is that time when Harry gets himself snatched, but there are twenty other times when he was not, including when he walked straight into Nagini’s jaws. It’s not Draco’s fault that Harry was captured that one time and it is certainly thanks to Draco that he managed to escape. So there.

Voldemort falls and Draco is happy to think that he had quite a lot to do with it.

And then…

Harry comes to him freely. Draco is sure of that. He did nothing about it. He even rejects Harry at first! But Draco has made so many pacts that he can’t be completely sure that his longing and wanting of Harry hasn’t triggered something. The wax doll playing Narcissa wasn’t supposed to save Harry’s life. Draco is endlessly grateful that she did, but he is also worried that his want might have had unexpected effects somewhere else. He knows he didn’t do anything, not consciously or willingly at least, but he also knows that he has been wanting Harry long enough that he can’t be absolutely certain that he didn’t magic Harry’s attraction to him.

Harry is hurt at Draco’s rejection and persistent. Merlin, he is so persistent! So Draco gives in and takes Harry for himself. He also promises all of his own self to Harry, his hand, his heart and all his virtues whatever they may be. If there is the smallest chance that Draco forced this, he will atone by making Harry delightfully happy.

Which is why Lupin miraculously heals form his wounds and why Longbottom’s parents get slightly better (well enough that they can recognize their son at least), and why the proposed werewolf reform is approved despite the vocal opposition against it.

It works. Harry is happy and Draco almost believes he deserves it when Harry smiles at him. And then, a month before they are set to marry Harry comes to him and says “okay, Draco, what did you do?”

“I talked to the caterer like you asked me to?”

“No, not that.” Harry says and before Draco can ask if he was supposed to do something else he says “and don’t play dumb.”

“Um…”

“Draco, the house-elf legislation!”

“What about it?”

“It was approved!”

“Really? Those are great news!” Draco smiles in delight and gets up. They are amazing news. Maybe Harry will kiss him. “Aren’t they?”

“Draco,” Harry says slowly. It doesn’t seem like he is going to kiss anyone. “There was NO WAY it could be approved. We proposed it because it’s the right thing to do, but we were ready to negotiate for some smaller measures and try again in ten years.”

Draco nods. Yes, that sounds sensible. Even a decade might not be enough to change people’s minds about elf ownership. A hundred years would be more like it.

“The werewolves was hard to believe already,” Harry goes on, sitting down on the armchair Draco had vacated. “But I thought we were just lucky when twelve members got sick with a stomach bug and couldn’t come to the vote. Well, I thought we were lucky. The honourable members for Knightsbridge launched an investigation, you know. They said there was foul play with the members for Essex but they couldn’t prove anything.”

Draco hums and grabs a chair to sit, resting his feet on the edge of the armchair and showing off the length of his legs. He isn’t worried. There is no way they can find anything about the honourable members for Essex because there is nothing to find. That had been a legitimate Quidditch accident that made all of them late to the vote. The honourable members for Hampshire, on the other hand, yes, there was certainly foul play in there. Once the blue-folk learned how they were being taken advantage of they made such a riot that the honourable members for Hampshire didn’t have a single minute to spare to think about a stupid vote back in London that was destined to fail. That’s what happens when a hundred years of delayed legislation catches up to you.

“But that was then.” Harry says, his arm coming to rest over Draco’s leg and his whole body unconsciously turning towards Draco. He couldn’t be too angry then. “Today the legislation to end house-elf ownership has been approved, 59 to 57, and freaking Thurman Goldfich changed his mind. So tell me, Draco, what did you do?”

“I merely expressed my wishes to some of my associates.” Draco says, which is such an obscene understatement. He had to deploy the goblins in twelve constituencies where they put the local economy to a stop and then waited for the corresponding representative of the Wiz-Parliament to come talk to them, at which point the goblins expressed their views on current economic trends and how unfair it was to use slave labour and how unless they were willing to impose tariffs on house-elf labour they might as well stop doing business with the wizarding community altogether because it wasn’t worth it.

Draco ventured that this would go down better than any inter-species solidarity argument. If wizards thought that goblins were just being greedy and that by freeing house-elves they were cunningly avoiding their tariff they would be more open to it.

Then there was a small aquatic incident that could had been tragic but for the heroic intervention of a free house-elf (finding a free house-elf was the hardest part of the ordeal). Madame Borricane who was not a member of the Wiz-Parliament but who had six nephews who were, witnessed the house-elf’s heroics and talked incessantly about it for the next two weeks. Enough that four of the nephews changed their vote if only to show to Madame Borricane they were the one good nephew who listened and ought to inherit her fortune.

The Hogsmeade Crossroads Spirit made a wizard arrive late enough times that his electors got sick of him never being in time in the Wiz-Parliament to argue their case, so they removed him by expedite vote and he was substituted by this wonderful nightmare of a liberal witch who was mad enough to vote in favour of house-elf emancipation without any other pressure. She even convinced two other honourable members all by herself. Draco is going to get her a goblin-made present and he invited her to their wedding.

The Susurrus at Whitehall gave three MW-Ps nightmares about becoming house-elves themselves for a week and constantly reminded the honourable member for London Bexley that his ancestors were once slaves and that there is no species distinction when talking about slavery, so the honourable member for London Bexley got his head out of his colossal ass and voted what any moral person with an ounce of historical sense would.

And finally, yes, thanks to The Exhalation of Gringotts Draco got the brilliant idea of putting a swarm to constantly whisper into Thurman Goldfich’s ear about his family name and legacy. Goldfich doesn’t care at all about house-elves, but his name will be recorded as the one who made the legislation possible. He will go down in history when there was no other way that unremarkable man would ever be remembered.

And because Harry is looking at him with those eyes of his and that smile, Draco tells him everything.

“Let me just say,” Draco adds, trying not to grin too much because he feels like he is getting away with it, “that lobbying is perfectly legal.”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s just that I don’t use money or offer traditional benefits.”

“I don’t think you offer any benefits at all.”

“Oh, no. I do! Just not to politicians.” Draco answers and Harry laughs which is the greatest sound ever uttered on Earth.

“As long as you restrict the use of curses, I’m okay with it.” Harry says and what’s more, he finally leans over and kisses Draco. A sweet unhurried kiss, and kiss that says I will marry you in a month and I will kiss you then and every day after. “Now, let me hear those songs you made for the swarms”.

[ink-and-stone]

The Train Did Not Arrive

It started as a daydream, an escape from reality, as most terrible ideas tend to originate from. Now, she was waiting at a deserted train station for a train that would take her anywhere far, far away. She couldn't deny to herself that she was scared – terrified, really – but her heart was set. The digital display read that her train would be arriving in ten minutes so she sat down on one of the benches, the platform silent except for the hushed scuffle of the two people that had snuck off the platform and were shaking what appeared to be spray-paint aerosols. Nine minutes. She opened her rucksack and checked and rechecked for her things: a few sets of spare clothes; a burner phone; a non-descript pouch with her money and ID; a notebook; a pen; a mini First-Aid kit. She rubbed her hands together, adding gloves to the growing list of things she regretted not bringing, although, to be fair, she would not have been able to manage the load anyway. She wriggled the numbing toes inside her trainers. She'd forgotten spare socks too.

But there was no turning back now. Her plan was in motion and her resolve relied on her momentum. She could not afford to hesitate, to have second thoughts because she knew it would throw all her planning and care to waste. Not that she had planned much, but still. She'd burn that bridge when she got to it.

The pair of young men, or perhaps they were her own age though she couldn't tell, were laughing to each other. If she listened carefully, she could decipher their words, punctuated by laughter.

"I – can't – bloody bel-ieve you – of all people – you – did that to him, Will!"  

This came from the slightly shorter one, who held onto the bricked wall of the wide tunnel to steady himself in his fit of hysteria.

"Well," the other guy, Will, said, "I darn well did."

Another fit of youthful, masculine laughter. She sighed and leaned back on the backrest, her eyes cast upwards at the light that flickered slightly every once in a while. She held her bag tighter in her arms, an image of vulnerability, and hoped they could not see her.

She glanced back at the digital display and to her alarm, the train that had been due to arrive in ten minutes, not even five minutes ago, had no mention. The list of incoming trains and the minutes until their arrival behold blank columns. Dread, in its most tangible form, sank in her stomach, her breathing began to run irregular and her heartbeat seemed to be improvising its song.

She closed her eyes in an attempt to calm herself but opened them to be alarmed by one of the young men who had been spray-painting the tunnel, the one who wasn't called Will.

"Hey," was what he said, his smile persuading her that he was friendly.

She looked back at him blankly, and dumbly. Later than was the socially acceptable duration of time to pause, she replied, "Hi," meek as a lamb cornered by a wolf.

The smile on the other person's face seemed to slip by a degree as he shifted into awkwardness.

"Just to let you know, if you meant to catch the eleven o'clock train, it never actually comes here. Nobody ever catches it so the driver just skips the whole district--"

She replied with silence.

He still seemed oblivious to the fact that with every word he uttered, the girl before him spiralled further and further. "-- well, that's what me and Will think at least. There could be a whole other reason entirely." At the mention of his friend, he gestured towards the tunnel, where his friend was carefully peeling off the duct tape they had been using as a sort of stencil, or rule. Will gave a little wave to acknowledge his introduction, which meant to the girl that he was listening in to their conversation.

She regained her sense with a deep inhale and let go of her paranoia with an exhale. She swore an oath for good measure and laid her head back on the bench. "Thank you." Was her simple reply, uttered with her eyes still closed in a posture of placid defeat.

She didn't hear him walk away, but a few minutes later a phone rang and the person who wasn't Will answered it. He swore after a few seconds and told Will that he had to go or his mum was going "burn my computer to ash!", in his own words. Will said that it was no problem and wished him luck and when his friend was out of earshot he muttered something about how convenient it was for Jack to leave just as they were meant to pack.

Indeed, there was a lot of stuff that Will now had to carry by himself.

He tidied up methodically and systematically so he'd be able to carry the cool box as well as the carrier bags overflowing with equipment or with snacks, and the folding step-ladder. Surely, he thought to himself, Jack could have dropped off at least one bag on his way home. He gave Jack the benefit of the doubt though, realising that Jack had probably been too distracted by his mother's discovery of his sneaking out to remember that this was far too much for Will to carry alone. This was Will's way – always giving the benefit of the doubt and making excuses for others. The epitome of modern-day sainthood, many thought of him. This juxtaposed starkly with what many others thought of him: a nuisance, a devil and the list went on. Really, he was both, and the variant descriptions of him only seemed so contradictory to each other because that was simply how real-life people were. Only in books – bad books– could people so two-dimensionally written exist, with simple motives, unvarying reactions and predictable decisions. Yet, it was difficult to see Will as anything but a character out of a book, with his unjustified kindness and, still, the impatience in his step that, almost audibly, demanded "Adventure!". Will was a character not even his enemies could get enough of, who was friendly with everyone (provided they did not have the authority nor the inclination to punish his misdeeds) but only friends with a few.

He had figured out a way to carry all of his belongings and this was how: the step-ladder was hung on his shoulder, his arm peeking through the hole; a bag was balanced atop the cool box, which he held in the hand opposite the one connected to his ladder-shoulder and the final carrier bag was carried in his other hand, repeatedly clanging against the steel of the ladder. He only noticed the girl was still seated on the bench when his clamorous ongoing exit stirred her from her rest and she sat up in confusion.

Will stopped in surprise as well and felt suddenly self-conscious. Then, he felt ashamed of himself for wasting his time feeling that when this girl was obviously having a far more dreadful night. He assessed her quickly, while she assessed him.

"You're running away, then?" Will asked.

Clearly, the girl had made a far less thorough assessment of him as her eyebrows shot up in astonishment.

She nodded mutely and then again, with a bit confidence, when Will gave her an amiable smile.

"Wicked." He remarked, with genuine appreciation, "I'm Will."

The girl considered all that she knew of him, that is to say, nothing.

"I'm May."

This, for some reason, perplexed Will a very good deal, which in turn, puzzled the girl, whose name was May. "What?" She said uneasily.

"But why not April? Or June? Or November?" Will asked.

Fear of being murdered and thrown in a bush by this stranger be damned – May was very much offended by this reaction, still half-confused as she was. "November? What's wrong with May?"

He looked at her as if she was sprouting horns from her forehead.

"Be – because! May's – it's exam season for crying out loud!" He sputtered indignantly.

This response delighted May and she welcomed the distraction Will brought from her current plight, so she laughed at his absurd reply. Then she told him that his reply was absurd, to which they had a heated debate about whether or not November was a good name – or even a name in the first place. Will had put his stuff down, save for the step-ladder, and his hands gestured verbosely with his argument.

Once the topic had been thoroughly exhausted, a pause ensued.

After the ensued pause, Will said, "If you don't have a place to go, there's a spare room in my house."

This, needless to say, triggered May's alarm bells. She wasn't going to go with him to his bloody house because they'd had a good laugh about her name.

Will realised the implications of his forwardness immediately and rushed to assure her of his dignity, "It's literally across the road. You can scream bloody murder if I try to kill you."

May wasn't sure how any of that was supposed to be reassuring, but found that his need to clear his name for her gave her some courage to reply back, "Why do you even want me to come...?"

"Because..." Will shifted to his other foot. And then he gave a shrug, which in itself was a rubbish answer. "I like to have people over – it's boring not to. Anyway, it's not like there's nobody else there – my brother's home too."

These were all rubbish answers but stripped of context and instincts of self-preservation, they were also humorous, and May, after such a dreadful day, was seeing the amusing side of his answer. She didn't laugh but she couldn't hide that she wanted to laugh at his reply.

Will, ever the giver of the benefit of doubt, took her smile as a sign of trust, relaxed a bit. "My brother's only six anyway, if you were worried about that." He knew the power baby brothers had in winning hearts and said this part only to secure her trust.

Unfortunately, May was horrified, "And you left him alone at home!"

"Yes, but –"

"Oh my God! Will!"

"– he's fast asleep and if he wakes up he can just call me and I come home!"

May still looked appalled. "That's a rubbish excuse!"

"No, really, he's fine with it –"

"Oh my God!"

She had stood up and now took hold of the carrier bag atop the cool box. Will let her, glad to be relieved of its burden and victorious as May started to walk with him. She reached for the cool box, but Will ushered her away from taking anything else – he could owe it to her to at least be this chivalrous. He hadn't the faintest clue why she was agreeing to come with him, but the voice in his head was whispering, "Adventure-Adventure-Adventure", again and again and again.

"You do realise I can't pay you for this, right?" She said uneasily when they had arrived at the cramped driveway in front of Will's house.

"God – I'm not asking you to, May. That would be terrifically rude!"

May only thought that it would be terrifically logical to charge a night's rent, but had no reason to tempt him to change his mind. She followed as he opened a side door and then the door to a shed.  

He stopped unexpectedly inside the shed, as if he'd forgotten something.

"You're not going to steal anything are you?"

It was as if the realisation that he had invited a complete stranger into his home had just dawned on him.

"What if you're a serial killer?"

May assumed the question was rhetorical but, amused again by the workings of Will's brains and the way he said everything that he did say in the funniest, most absurd way possible. "You can scream bloody murder if I try to kill you."

This was a good answer, because Will seemed to relax. "Please don't. And please try not to steal. I'll tell the police."

"You can't tell the police if you're dead."

"My brother can."

This was a sort of trap because Will was looking at May expectantly. But there was no way she was going to say, even as a joke, that she'd kill his little brother.

"I guess I'd get arrested then."

This was another good answer.

He nodded at her once, and from then was their friendship sealed.

[dsmadmin]

#GoodAsHell

Written by: @demonhunter1887 , @DemonicGeneral_ & @LilyResurrected

Jacob: I suppressed my California memories years ago. At least I thought I did. But they all came rushing to the surface when I turned on the news. There had been an increase in the number of people picked up for solicitation and public indecency.

There were only so many details the friendly floating head from the news could share with the public. This seemed eerily familiar. The vibration of my phone pulls me from my thoughts.

"What do you want?" I answered. I didn't bother looking at the Caller ID. It didn't matter who it was. They wanted something from me.

"Jacob Greyman?" the small voice on the other end of the line answered.

"Guess you should know who you're calling before you pick up the fucking phone, right?" Irritation was evident in my voice. "What do you want?"

"I'm Sister June," she said, "from the Cathedral of the Holy Cross."

Of course, I thought, Catholic churches were always so pretentious.

"How can I help you /Sister/," I responded.

"The Prince of Hell has risen," she said.

"Which one?" I asked, "My fath-- ... Lucifer created several."

"Asmodeus."

:::::::::::::::::::::::::

Asmodeus: -Standing on the second role balcony he looked down upon the ground of people. Lights flashed and changed colors as the music offered a beat to move by. He could feel the sexual prowess coming off the crowd, many of who were engaged in sexual acts right in front of others. The club had so much potential as the group of women lying in the bed behind him would prove. He'd been sent back to complete their mission, his to seed the world of many demons as he could. The humans made it so easy, they succumbed to their desires so easy it didn't take much of an effort on his part. MDMA was being passed out and only increased things. Five more beautiful women were brought to him and the others were taken away to the warehouse beyond.-

:::::::::::::::::::::::

Jacob: "No wonder this shit looked familiar," I mutter into the phone. I open my laptop and peck out a few keys.

"I've dealt with him before," my lips pull into a slight smile, "he does make things... /interesting/ doesn't he, Sister?"

"Sinful," she says, "utterly utterly sinful."

"What you call sin," I tell her, "most people call a good time. But Asmodeus' isn't just trying to get laid. At least that wasn't his prior MO. He wants to create more halflings."

"Yes," she answered, "Demons that pass as humans."

"And fuck if that wouldn't be a terrible thing," I responded, "Send me the details you have. Has he picked a woman to carry his seed? Most don't survive the possession."

"That's why I've called you," Sister June stated.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Asmodeus: -Cages descended from the ceiling overhead holding nearly nude dancers, screams went up as the dancers sprayed the crowd with water. Bodies rolling into each other as the new beat started up. The lust thick in the air. Bubble butt, black hair, and blue eyes mounted a pole swinging round. Locking her leg around the pole leans back exposing most of her breasts in the tiny halter top she was wearing. A blonde guy in the crowd leans in and kisses her. Within minutes they're both on stage fucking to the beat as the crowd cheered them on. Asmodeus shoved another woman off, the pile of corpses was piling up. Looks at one of his demons.- Get this shit out of here. -Lighting up a cigarette, walks out to the balcony shirtless looking over the crowd. He hadn't even broken a sweat yet.-

::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Jacob: "Of course," I snort, "the church rarely does its own heavy lifting." My fingers peck on the keys of my laptop searching for anything that would be a hotspot.

"There was a girl," the nun started.

"It always starts with a girl," I responded letting out a deep sigh. "Where is she?"

"She's locked at her parents home," Sister June says, "Cardnal Antonio is waiting for your there."

"Way to bury the lede, Sister," I replied, "Text me the address and I'll be there." I close my laptop and walk to the end of the hall. I open the closet and grab the bag from the top shelf. I put it away a long time ago. But I had to pull it out again.

I toss it in the back seat of my car and pull out of the drive.

:::::::::::::::::::::

Asmodeus: -He'd sent out some minions to see about the half-breed the church had killing his spawns hosts. He was both annoyed and curious. He wasn't completely human to have survived the encounters that were making it back to Asmodeus but confirmation had not yet be made. He wondered if indeed it was the same he'd encountered so long ago and had been bested by. Breeding at least another twelve women he went off in search of other distractions from the club and waited for information to come in.-

:::::::::::::::::::::::::

Jacob: I pulled into the driveway of the address the nun had sent me. Typical Irish Catholic family home. Gawdy cross hanging over the door. I did nothing to detur the demon that ate the soal of the girl locked away inside.

I tilt my head, listening to them praying. I hated to be the one to tell them that it was too fucking late. The daughter they loved was gone. What was left was just an empty shell of what was once there. Maybe she was an innocent girl. But it didn't matter.

I tapped on the door, ready to put on the show before putting down the demon that filled the husk of the girl's vessel.

:::::::::::::::::::::::

Asmodeus: -The priest had been cited the exorcism when the demon turns its charms on him and soon the priest succumbed to his lust of the flesh. The demon attacked the priest and took great pleasure in killing him, head snapped up baring teeth at the knock at the door.-

:::::::::::::::::::::::

Jacob: I follow the chants of the excersism up the stairs of the family home barely hearing the voices of the family begging for my help. It was too late for the help they wanted.

I swing the bedroom door open and see her. The girl was writhing against the prayers. It wasn't enough to destroy her. Priests never got there in time. They had to think and plan and pray before action. By then it was always too fucking late to make a real difference and the body was dead.

The girl started laughing when she saw me, "Yay, a threesome!"

"I don't think so," I told her, "neither you or he are my type."

::::::::::::::::::::::

Asmodeus: -Her limbs contort in odd directions as she crotches like in the middle of the dead eyeing the newcomer.- Well that's too bad but don't worry you won't live long enough for me to care. -Launching herself at Jacob, nails scratching at his face with teeth snapping at his throat.-

:::::::::::::::::::::::

Jacob: I caught the flying girl as she launched herself in my direction. She was strong. I remembered how strong he made the carriers of his seed were. My fingers tightened around her wrists and I push her hand from my face.

I listen to the priest's fruitless effort to cast the demon from the girl's body. But there was no human soul remaining in her body. I push her hard against the wall, "Where is he?"

:::::::::::::::::::::

Asmodeus: -Spitting in his face her head canted to one side her eyes inhuman looking now.- Don't worry he'll find you soon! -Using her feet she shoved with all her might against him and soon as she got loose she bit into the priest's neck ripping open his carotid artery. Blood sprayed over her and the wall.-

::::::::::::::::::::

Jacob: The blood spray coated the girl's room like a bad paint job. I quirk a brow and waive a finger letting a chair slide out from the girl's desk, I take a seat and watch as the possessed girl dances around in the sprays of blood. Like a child running through sprinklers. It was too late to save the priest.

It was likely too late when I walked through the door tonight. But I could report back to the Church that I tried.

"Where is he?" I asked her again, "You're dead either way. Doesn't matter to me."

::::::::::::::::::::

Lily: It was a typical day for Lily, waking up in a homeless shelter, leaving to go find one of the local dealers to get her fix. She took in all the sights; the couples doing their mushy things, people walking their dogs, squirrels playing with each other, the flowers that were blooming for the year, the trees having healthy leaves and children playing since school was out for the summer. Even though Lily was strung out on every drug imaginable it was nice to get a glimpse of the real world every once in a while. By the time she got to her local dealer she had went into depression mode from 'walking down memory lane'. "How'ya doin' today?" "Could be better." Lily answered the dealer. "Well hell, let's fix that." He said with a smile. The two had done their exchange then headed off in different directions. Lily had found an empty alley....well almost empty, the stray animals would dig through the trash cans for food. Ducking behind a trash can Lily had pulled out a tourniquet and wrapped it around her upper left arm. Once it was tight enough she pulled out the syringe that had the special juice that her body was craving. Lily had tapped on her arm to find a good vein, once it was found she popped the top off of the syringe and stuck the needle in then slowly administered the liquid. When the last drop was pushed in she sat back and waited for her high to kick in.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Asmodeus: -His minions always on the lookout for potential humans, they frequented the slums. Forgotten people with no one to care or come looking for them. Coming across a junkie in an alley one grabbed her by the hair and tossed her over his shoulder disappearing into the buildings so she could be taken to his master along with many others. The hotel they'd taken up residence in was filled with people everywhere and sex was stout in the air. Moans and groans filled the air as they took up the latest finds tossing them on the floor at the master's feet. The possessed girl back at the house didn't cooperate just cursed him till she collapsed on the floor eyes blank and soul gone. One more death in a rising death toll.-

:::::::::::::::::::::::::

Jacob: I stepped outside of the Irish Catholic home. The Church's cleanup team would be here soon to take care of the bodies.

I should feel sorry for them. The girl or the priest. But I don't. They are just a blip in the war between heaven and hell. That war had been brewing since the dawn of time it seemed. Each side worked to build its numbers. Both used deceit to get there.

I had to figure out what the target is now and how to slow or stop it.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Lily: Being on her high, Lily's process times for reactions were delayed. She had no clue that she had been picked up until they were in the building. She had tried to ask where the minions were taking her but her speech was too slurred to understand. When they got to their master, Lily barely processed to put her hands out before her face hit the floor. Blinking a few times to get used to the different lighting she heard the moans and groans of pleasure. She raised her head to see more women around her and then her attention came to a man that was in front of her and all the women. What did Lily get herself into this time?

::::::::::::::::::::::

Asmodeus: -The hotel was full of humans fornicating all over the place but the women were brought to his bedroom first. It was huge and many women laid upon it. Candles flickered around the darkroom. Lust was oozing from his pores and moans were slipping past the whores lips. They thighs opening and begging to be bred. Each one he took the lusting seemed to get worse, twisting and thriving they were ready for him without complaint. As he got to the latest arrival he ran his vessels fingers down her spine before rubbing his rather large members between her now stripped thighs. He breached her with out word and began to fuck her like the trash she was. He hoped some of these were strong enough to bring his children into the world and serve their master well.-

[iammarylastar]

The Exception. 6. Epilogue 

They had 4 kids, Britany their little Bree, Luke, Adam and Chris. Life took the third back to God just a week after he was born. 

They cried, they mourned, weeks turning into months and Chris came unexpectedly, bringing happiness and joy back to the family.

Stefan stroked the old picture with his thumb.

Mieke and he were standing on the Sydney Bridge, Bree in his arms, Luke in his mother’s. Adam was still growing inside his mother’s womb, little angel who had been ghosting his memories for more than 50 years. 

Cora, as she was used to on each Sunday, took this picture in May 1945, Adam was born in June, about two months early.

They were celebrating the end of that damn war, the World sighed in relief but there was so many wounds to heal.

Europe, Russia had been devastated; Germany and Japan would pay for their faults for decades. Mankind would recover, maybe, and have its dignity and faith in humanity bringing goodness back.

Chris was missing in the black and white picture. He came the year after Adam died. 

Stefan felt a stab in his heart at the reminder. Mieke and he had been more devastated by his lost than any city blown up to ruins by bombings. 

They cried again and again, fighting hell to get up in the morning, trying their best to keep up a smile on their tired faces and raise their other children. Mieke had acted like a ghost for months and all his attempts to cheer her up failed miserably. She closed her heart and her thighs to him, slowly fading away. 

One night where she was silently crying, he took her in his arms and rocked her gently; his chin on the top of her head, whispering soothing love words in her ear as she finally let it go. 

She cried and hit her fists on his chest, biting his shoulder to keep herself from screaming too loudly. She dug her nails deep into his skin, leaving marks, and then slapped his face with all the force she had left. 

Like it was his fault. Like it could be someone’s fault. 

He let her straddle him as she was beating him up, until she crashed down on him, exhausted and panting. He wrapped his wife close to his chest and sat up; combed back her hair damped with tears, stroked lightly her perfect lines, then brushed her lower lips, red from being bitten to blood.

“Mieke, I love you.”

He just said.

She stared at him for a solid minute, reading deep sadness in his eyes, along with hope. And love.

She leant over to brush her lips on his, and then pushed him back to the mattress. Grabbing the hem of her nightdress, she rolled the cloth up her thighs and lifted her ass up to line up with his shaft. Her fingers grasped his pec, and she sighed as she slid down his cock, her eyes never leaving his.

She made love to him, the same way she always had, in their other life.

Chris came 9 full months later. They welcomed this strong young boy, healthy and bald. Happiness filled their house again, along with the cries of the newborn, hungry both for life and milk.

The Kaiser was right; they fought for human rights and equality on each occasion. 

They fought for the rights of the natives, and drove to Canberra that day in 2008, when Kevin Rudd apologized officially for the shameful way Australia treated Aboriginals and the stolen generation.

They fought for the equality between men and women, between all human beings, whatever colour their skin was.

They fought against the ‘gay panic defense’ law, which allowed people to justify a murder in the name of their fear of homosexuals.

More recently they fought for gay and lesbian’s rights, hoping for them to be allowed to get married one day. Love was love after all.

They were involved in several causes and proud to teach this to their children. Goodness and justice as a legacy. 

And Australia was on its way to the fairness she claimed.

Mieke died the year before, in her mid 70s. Breast cancer. At least, he had all his family back home for the funerals.

Stefan let a sob out, it still hurt so much. They had a good life together; they could tell they knew love and happiness. Which he wished to all his children and grand children.

Brittany married twice and gave birth to three girls. She had to follow her latest husband to Perth and he missed his little Bree so much. She called her mom and dad every day by phone or Skype. 

Handwritten letters and much awaited mails were bygone days. He wondered how things would have gone if Mieke had been able to call the Kaiser with her IPhone and get an answer by fax or e-mail within an hour. 

Anyway, the two or three times a year he had them home was never enough to enjoy his beloved daughter and her team, to which he loved telling stories of their mother as a child. She still thought she was born here in Sydney, as written and stamped on her certificate of birth.

Luke had always been a lonely and introvert child, only fully alive when talking about ocean and what’s beyond. He was eager to travel the world, dreaming of being a sailor or working on an oil rig. He loved staying all by himself and told his parents he didn’t feel like he belonged there. He was only 6.

Mieke had cried many rivers, blaming herself not to have been able to take care for him after Adam died, foreseeing their son leaving their household at an early age, which she wouldn’t survive as she repeated again and again. 

She survived though, when he came home at 17, hired as a steward on a yacht, bound for a cruise to French Polynesia. He was over excited, about to ‘live the dream’ , jumping up and down through the house, packing his stuff and shoving them in a big duffle bag.

Pulling his crying mother in a huge hug, he begged, subtly delivering the speech he had prepared for the occasion.

“Mom, this is what makes me happy. I promise I’ll send you postcards from every single place I land on. Mom, please, let me go.”

Stefan looked at the wall where thousands of cards were pinned. There was no country in the world Luke had not put a foot on. 

He tried to settle down in Sydney when he was 30, even took a wife and had a son. But this was not a life for him. He had stayed at bay for 4 years but the ocean screamed his name so loud every fucking day and he had to struggle too hard not to pack and leave within the second.

Chris had always been his favorite. Not really his fav but they always had been very close. Thinking alike, same sense of humour, same skills in teasing and winking, same no skill in taking pics. Mieke was use to mocking them, saying they couldn’t take a good picture to save their lives. 

Chris married a blonde beauty who brought two children into the world. A girl and boy. 

They named their first born Bree, after Chris big sister. And the boy was weirdly called Jai, a name he had never heard before, Stephen as a middle name. Like his beloved grand pa.

Bree had dark eyes and hair, she reminded him of Mieke so much. Smart and beautiful, she wanted to become a teacher like her mother. She was surprisingly -not that much- very skilled in foreign languages.

The boy was the perfect Aussie bloke, blonde curls, amazing blue eyes, sporty, cheeky and kind of a womanizer. He had inherited his frame but looked so much like his mother. Pretty allergic to each foreign language that was not deep accented australian.

He often paid a visit to his grand parents, shamelessly skipping school to sip a beer with his grand pa, chitchatting about girls, life and acting. It had always been his passion, playing someone else, telling stories.

He was chasing the gig, dreaming of a career in Hollywood.

Stefan chuckled. He and Mieke had been very talented at it. Being someone else, telling stories, lying about their roots.

Mieke made him swear to never ever speak about their former life. Too dangerous. The shadow of what happened when they arrived in Sydney haunted her brain and she told him she’d rather kill him than relive those bad times. 

Their deepest secret had laid under a floorboard since they moved in this house, after Luke was born. Sealed like their lips. 

The ID they made whilst in London before leaving, Nietzsche’s 'Beyond good and evil’ he still remembered Mieke’s note and the first page by heart. The letter the Kaiser wrote to save Stefan’s life. The official court decision that made him a free man. Their wedding pic. Few pics of them taking pose with Cora or Marvin before they had to cut ties with them. To keep the secret.

It was a miracle that none of their children or grandchildren ever asked about their roots, their story, where Mieke’s name came from or why she kept calling his husband Stefan instead of Stephen.

The rules of family secrets. No questions.

At some point, he would have to tell his family the truth. 

Stefan Brandt and Mieke De Jong. 

The Kaiser Willem II. The spy, the murders, the war, the run. The real story of Bree’s birth. Her real name. The reason she named all her dolls Cora. The real reason why Luke lived for sailing. Running from Oz to find where he was really from. 

The reason why Jai wanted to be somebody else for a living.

The real story of the Courtney’s.

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