#just to finally give desmond a piece of his mind

[teecupangel]

@thedragonqueen1998 and I had fun adding these tags on this post but we reached the tag limit so I figured we should create its own post…

And still reblog with tags instead XD

Previous tags

#i accidentally reblogged this on my other account #oh well #bitch slap #assassin’s creed #i made altaïr twirl around all the time #altaïr ibn la'ahad

#<previous tags #Altaïr just hears Desmond’s shitty rendition of “You spin me Round”

#< thedragonqueen1998 prev tags #ngl you said “You Spin Me Round” and my brain went “Turn around… every now and then-” #and now i’m just imagining desmond singing both songs on repeat XD

#< previous tag #Altaïr knows no peace #and he can’t do jack shit about the spirit haunting him #Desmond is messing with Altaïr ‘cause he can’t do anything to the Templars #and Altaïr’s a bit of a dick in the beginning so he deserves it

#< thedragonqueen 1998 prev tags 2 #they are both suffering and annoying each other #just to get some kind of ‘reprieve’#but also… #altaïr thinks desmond is his true punishment for failing the mission XD

#< previous tags #does Altaïr think God himself sent a spirit to punish him #or that Al Mualim is responsible? #either way #he just wants some peace and quiet #just for 5 minutes #Desmond please! #i am begging you #Desmond is just having the time if his life

[sunflowericescribbles]

A Radioapple SpyxFamily AU idea dump

It seems that I´ve become incapable of writing down my ideas into a decent story, so I will just dump everything into this post - and whoever wants to pick up these pieces and string it together into a coherent story is welcome to take them and run with it. I just need to get it out of the system otherwise I´m gonna mad here.

Setting:

SpyxFamily Universe - Cold War between Ostania & Westalis (if I wanted to be funny I´d have renamed them into "Elysiana" & "Ereboris" or smth like that, because there already exists Eden Academy, so why not turn it into "Heaven & Hell")

A/B/O- Universe (?)

Alastor as westalian spy known as "Smiles". He´s an expert in hiding in between shadows & and concealing his presence. (You only know he´s there when you see a creepy smile, but then it´s already too late for you.) Officially he works as a radio host at a radio station, which serves also the purpose to get the latest news from everywhere and subtly altering it if necessary. They also use it to communicate in code via broadcast. His excuse for getting almost murdered on the streets or for coming home with injuries will most likely be "haters of his radio persona" or "fanatic fans". Yes, he has a very intense fanbase (and hatebase), yes some might call him the radio demon.

He accidentally rescued a little girl called Niffty while on a mission, who refused to leave his side since then. And before he could get rid of her, his superiors had the brilliant idea to keep her, so he could take on operation "Strix", because it seemed that she´s smart (& old) enough to be enrolled in the famous Eden Academy.

Niffty is able to read minds, so she knows that the plan is to get closer to the youngest son of Sera Desmond, Adam. (You can imagine how the first meeting will go when I say that Adam will be terrified of her most of the time and will constantly try to convince everyone that she tries to murder him.) Lute will be his bodyguard, of course.

Our little gremlin will also make sure that Al gets a "wife"/mate/partner, because of course Eden Academy has this strange/stupid rule that the kids need to a whole set of parents to even have a chance to get into it. Al is not eager to go through the list of potential partners that his informant and old friend Husker provided him. Fortunately the problem solves itself with a chance meeting at the park where Niffty almost falls into a pond full of ducks.

And look who´s there! A cute little blonde (omega) with the name Lucifer, who is pondering his life choices and who´s in desperate need to prove that he´s NOT single and/or incapable of taking care of himself. See, he can still look after a kid and prevent her from falling head first into a pond. See, he can also sympathize with being a single parent, because he´s been in that role many years since Lilith´s death.

The wedding ring on his hand? Oh, that´s just an old remnant that he keeps wearing because he´s not really into finding a new partner & when they see the ring they usually back off and leave him be. Unfortunately it led to his new coworkers believing he was still married, because he had been too distracted (and not in the mood to talk about it) in giving them a direct answer ("I don´t have a wife"- "Oh sorry, husband then"). And somehow he talked himself into a corner with his adult daughter Charlie, too, because she believes he´s been dating someone for a while now. He had only been on a handful of dates because she had been constantly nagging him over the phone & then simply started lying to her about it to make her stop worrying.

Now he has one problem coming from two sides: His new coworkers invited him to a dance party, so he needs a dance partner - preferably his nonexistent husband, because he´s too embarrassed to admit he´s single now that he´s already been there for a while and never corrected this assumption. His daughter deems it appropriate to finally meet his new (imaginary) partner & make sure her dad is in good hands.

Lucifer also kinda fears that Charlie would actually throw away her carrier chances if she worried too much about him, because as much as he tried to hide his struggles from her, he knows she´s seen it. Luckily Charlie doesn´t (& hopefully never will) know how far he went to make ends meet for them, because he´s definitely not proud of it. He will never regret marrying Lilith & having Charlie, even though they got disowned by their families and never got the chance to finish their education at Eden Academy after they found out about them (and the pregnancy).

Lucifer is officially working a boring office job, but has a (regrettably) successful carrier as an assassin since his daughter´s childhood years, because he was desperate for money and would have done anything for his daughter to get her a at least somewhat decent childhood & education. His codename is "Rotten Apple" (he always leaves a faint smell of rotten apples behind) and he´s very good at disguising himself. His small and slender build also makes it easy for him to disguise as woman if necessary.

Anyway, Alastor & Lucifer come to the conclusion that it will benefit both of them if they entered a fake marriage. Lucifer is very glad he found Alastor, because not only can this man cook a thousand times better than him, he can also dance and make his coworkers jealous! Well, Charlie is not entirely convinced yet, but you have to forgive her, she´s very protective of her dad & worries too much (Vaggie is trying to convince her to let her dad be). Alastor is somewhat relieved that he found someone who has experience in child raising & knowledge of Eden Academy. He doesn´t care that his mate is older than him & already had a child roughly 20 years ago. If someone asks why he didn´t choose a younger one: He likes that they can enjoy the same things, such as music, dancing, playing instruments, etc. He´s also good with kids, has experience, doesn´t mind marrying someone with a child, does he need to go on? Ah, yes and both of them don´t ask too many unnecessary questions, because gotta keep their secrets.

Btw Vox is not happy about this fake marriage, because he wanted to play happy family with Al. (Niffty does not, she likes her new "bad boy" dad very much, thank you.)

[ask-the-almighty-google]

Just some Magic Mechanics for my Assassin’s Creed/The Librarian(s) Crossover Fic

Pretty sure I posted this before but forgot to tag properly and then Tumblr ate it so… reposting my art!

Literally begging people to ask me about it please.

Below is an interlude chapter from my fic The Book of Memories under the cut, in which Judson and Flynn discuss magic and the diagram above...

Judson actually jumped a little bit when he walked into the Annex Hub inside the Library and nearly ran into Flynn, who had pounced the moment he’d set eyes on the poor man with an open book balanced in one hand and a cuneiform tablet stylus in the other. His entire appearance was disheveled, to say the least, from the perpetually-tussled state of his hair to the now-constant lack of a tie and unbuttoned collar of his shirt (evidence of Desmond’s paranoia about giving enemies an opportunity to strangle him having finally broken the habit of neckwear) to the fact that the shirt was untucked, and finally to the missing left shoe with the sock that had little snowmen on it.

“Can I help you?” Judson asked politely. Flynn just nodded enthusiastically.

“Yeah. Can you teach me magic?” Judson blinked, and Flynn gestured to the book with the stylus. “It’s just- I’ve been reading up on the books you recommended but I’m not really understanding some things. I was hoping you could explain?”

“…I see. What is the purpose of the stylus?”

“I was practicing on a tablet, it’s not important-”

“And the missing shoe?” Flynn finally paused for breath, that manic gleam in his eye fading away as excitement turned to a grimace.

“One of the gnomes got out and ate it. Desmond lost his right one using it as a lure, and Jenkins lost a blacksmithing glove trying to get it into the groundhog trap. But we got it back into the enclosure eventually.”

“If there isn’t a loss of limbs, I suppose we can chalk it up as a success,” Judson sighed. “Why the sudden desire to learn about magic?”

“Well… I just… I know you’re teaching Desmond,” Flynn said awkwardly. Judson sighed, tiredness seeping into his tone.

“Flynn, it- it’s a different situation. I’m teaching Desmond how to control his natural talents. Talents which you do not possess and thus don’t need to learn to control, and as such have no reason to learn anything.”

“I still want to,” Flynn begged. “Please? I sort of know the difference between Mages and Sorcerers, just not a lot, but I think I could learn! I’m an A student for a reason, hard work doesn’t faze me. Long hours of study? Definitely in my wheelhouse. I love a challenge! Even if it takes years I want to give it a shot. Just… give me the chance?”

“…Very well,” Judson sighed, motioning for Flynn to sit in front of the chalkboard. Taking up a piece of white chalk, he began to draw an information web from rote memory. It consisted of a large central circle with eight small circles around it, and four larger branches stemming off of the center. Above it was base information on magical creatures and below base information on Mages and Sorcerers, separate from all else. The four branches were ‘Null, Linguistics, Mathemagicks,’ and ‘Runic.’ Off by itself not touching anything was a smaller circle labeled ‘Isu.’

“There are some tests we will have to engage in to determine whether or not you can even perform magic at all,” he explained when he had finished with the diagram, pointing at the upper left branch labeled ‘Null.’ “Every living being has some level of base magic inside of them. Mages are born with an excess, and using magic comes to them very naturally. But Nulls are people born with a deficiency of magic, making their levels so low they may as well be nonexistent.” He pointed at a few of the connected bubbles as he spoke. “Because of this deficiency, Null people are naturally shielded against environmental magic, psychic magic, curses, and anything involving any sort of mind control. Like water off the backs of waterfowl, magic just… slides off of them in many instances. The lower a Null’s magic count in their body, the greater chance they have of not being affected by it, though spell strength can occasionally ensnare most of them if potent enough. Now-”

“Continue,” Flynn said patiently, completely ignoring Judson’s flabbergasted look as he stoked their tiny little portable fire pit and prepared a marshmallow for roasting. “I’m listening.”

“Mm… As I was saying, your ability to interact with some of our artifacts tells me you are not a Null, but this doesn’t explain your magical affinity,” Judson said doubtfully. “Mages, while having a natural affinity, need years of study to hone their raw gifts. Sorcerers can attain great abilities after years of study- far longer than a Mage might need I may add- but they can be fairly powerful on their own right. Magical creatures have by far the most daunting levels of raw power, but this always manifests in niche areas of ability and comes with certain restrictions based on what creature being discussed.”

“Like Isu?” Flynn asked, nodding pointedly at the single lonely circle on the diagram. Judson shook his head.

“Not exactly. As you know, the beings mythology have come to think of as the Gods of multiple pantheons across the world were actually a species that predated- and created- humanity called the Isu. After the human rebellion lead by the Hybrids Hawwāh and Adem- Eve and Adam- and the destruction of the world due to the solar flare that caused enough tectonic unrest to trigger the Toba catastrophe over 75,000 years ago, the Isu departed to a different plane of existence called ‘Eden’ much like the Fae world of Tír na nÓg where they could live forever. The Isu, being steeped richly with potent magical affinity, created three areas of study.” Here, he pointed to the remaining three branches on the diagram. “Isu could choose to master all three if they so chose, though different sects chose to master different branches as a cultural demarcation than anything else. The Feyan- or Greek and Roman Isu- chose to focus on the Mathemagick side of things. The Egyptian and Norse focused on Runic. Hindu and Celtic? Linguistic. They would often cross between the three in their experiments and so on and so forth, but the basics remain.”

“Can humans also master all three branches?”

“No. While humans were created in the image of the Isu to be a slave workforce, they took the precaution of limiting our magical abilities. While an Isu could use magic with impunity, a human can suffer extreme backlash if they do not understand the risks or know what they are doing, which is why practitioners of magic are extremely rare. Tossing aside the severe rarity of Mages, Sorcerers just don’t happen that often, due to how long it takes before dedicated study produces any positive results- at minimum, a Sorcerer won’t see any progress until the five year mark if not later. It can be extremely discouraging as a result, meaning that Sorcerers are actually even rarer than Mages statistically speaking.”

“So… trying to master more than one branch would be… bad,” Flynn summarized. Judson nodded.

“Tremendously. Fatally, even. That’s not to say that a practitioner can’t dabble, mind. We do it all the time, but we would never presume to claim mastery over more than one branch. I myself am a Linguist, and Charlene a Mathemagician. Jenkins has become extremely adept at Runes over the years. Deciding which branch to study is determined by which you are most attuned to. Your being a polymath may make that process difficult down the line once you’ve grasped the basics, in fact. But not impossible.”

“Color me intrigued.” Flynn removed the marshmallow from the fire and carefully placed it between chocolate and graham cracker, then crunched down. Judson sighed and decided to ignore the s’more situation in favor of continuing his lecture.

“Linguistics is a fascinating field of study, at- at least as far as I’m concerned. It relies heavily on empathic influence, and the more complex the crafting of the prose the more powerful a spell will usually be. The branch of Incantation carries curses, enchantments, illusion, and even the ability to distort reality. Lyric, or musical, spell casting is also somewhat common if you have the pipes for it. Another branch is called ‘Charmspeak,’ and it implies what you think it implies. The ability to persuade or hypnotize someone into doing or believing what you want. The ah- the little white spell that automatically gains peoples’ trust when you tell them that you are a Librarian falls under such a category. Extremely powerful Linguists can even summon Fictionals using this form of magic-”

“What’s a Fictional?” Flynn asked. Judson paused, mulling the question over, before shaking his head.

“A complex answer for another time, I’m afraid.”

“…Okay?”

“Mathemagicks is the employment of equations and science to affect and even warp reality. It contains alchemy, medicinal miracles for the most well-studied, and usually comes with a high affinity for technology including but not limited to technopathy. Runic practitioners enjoy environmental spellcasting and the ability to create artifacts or encode a magical charge and spell into a desired object through carving, embroidering, calligraphy, or even the occasional tattoo. The magic they use can be freeform in creation, but must contain specific purpose towards the object the magic is being imbued with. Only the most adept can create a phylactery or, in other terms, an object containing a piece of one’s soul.”

“…Like the Book of Memories and the pendant Altaïr created to reincarnate,” Flynn said, catching on. Judson smiled.

“Yes. And, like his forebears, Desmond has a very high affinity for Runic spellcasting in particular. Hence the reason he studies how to control his magic more with Jenkins than he does with me.”

“Are there abilities that everybody can do even if they don’t choose a specific area of study?”

“Of course. The Sight, which you have seen Desmond employ many a time, is so readily usable that even untrained individuals with a decent enough magical threshold can use it, and it is utilized quite frequently by the Assassin Brotherhood. Less- less so in the more recent centuries of course, as wild magic has faded from the world due to inactive Ley Lines, but you understand the principle. My ah- my mirror trick is another easy form of magic, and most individuals with magical affinity that are repeatedly exposed to magic develop a natural shielding of their mind, soul, and body over the years. Ah… clairvoyance, or dreamsharing, can happen by accident for the more magically inclined and give them some rather unpleasant deja vu on occasion. Astral Projection is usually obtained through careful balancing of mind and body and enjoyed as a way to study with impunity by monks the world over. Telepathy and minor illusion spells- usually of the sort that obscure a person from being discovered during a search and so on- require a decent grasp of the base mechanics through study to use effectively.”

Here, Judson smiled and held a finger and thumb up. He snapped them together, disappearing in a shower of golden dust and reappearing on the other side of the long center table. Flynn turned to see him in his seat.

“Snap Travel is perhaps the trickiest baseline spells to master and must not be attempted in any complex way unless done by an experienced practitioner after many years of study. It is not nearly as simple as it appears and requires a nearly encyclopedia knowledge of geography and latitudinal and longitudinal coordinates. Suffice it to say, I feel it will be almost annoyingly easy for you to utilize if you decide to pursue magical study under my instruction.”

“I’d love to!” Flynn exclaimed, leaping up and bouncing on his feet. Lopsided of course, given the lack of one shoe, but not deterring him from his bouncing in any way all the same.

“Hm.” Judson looked him over and gave an approving nod. “I’ll see about adding on to your education as Librarian, then. We’ll see what best suits you.”

[interdimensionalsockdrawer]

This is going to sound crazy. Like really crazy. But my hair is looking good and I’m feeling confident so more have a pl f&c crossover scenario (under the cut):

Fionna Cake and Simon have been side traveling with Aurora and Des(cole) for a bit of time now and they’re staying in the same world together but it’s turning nightfall and Cake’s wondering where the two of them are at. And then she hears distanced humming or singing (I assume cats have better hearing or something) and so she runs off trying to find the voice as she recognizes it as Des’s. Obviously Cake running off means Fionna and Simon are chasing after her.

Well Cake finds Aurora and Des’s camp and she sees that Aurora’s being sung the dream lullaby song by Des and funny thing is. Funny thing is that they have their mask off so their eyes are mostly readable. So Cake listens on and Fionna and Simon eventually catch up to where she’s hiding and watching. Fionna tries to scold her but Cake tells her to zip it and listen.

So the three of them kinda just. Watch as Des is singing the song and his eyes,,, that was it. It began finally piecing itself together in Simon’s mind that Descole was Desmond, one of if not the closest friend he had. The three of them were watching sure but Simon couldn’t take his eyes off her. He was fully enamored, lost to the sound of his voice and look of his eyes. Eventually a memory begins to resurface itself while Des pauses from singing.

And the scene shifts to Desmond’s wedding day, sharing the dance not with their mother, but one of their best friends. Betty Grof. The two of them danced slowly but elegantly to the sound of the music, giving in all its mastery. Simon Petrikov kept his eyes solely on the two of them, and Desmond glanced back at him for a moment, but seemed his eyes were focused on something else. The edge of the dance floor. No one was there, or at least, not to Simon. To Desmond, the spirit of her mother stood and watched the scene, smiling that someone could go and take her place for this one special moment. And Desmond goes back to singing.

Their eyes are teary now, their tone a little choked from a possible sob, but they finish out the song with tears streaming softly down their face. Simon, too, feels the dams breaks, but has no words to speak. None at all. All he can do is watch Des quietly weep while the emissary lay still, sleeping.

Fionna and Cake had to drag him back to their own camp. He didn’t talk for the rest of the night.

[miso-vicious]

Donovan Desmond

As the reader, we know very little about Donovan Desmond.

We know that he is the Chairman of the National Unity Party of Ostania, making him a dangerous threat to peace if he plans to use his position to reignite the war. Unfortunately, due to his reclusive and secretive nature, it’s unclear where he currently stands on the efforts for peace, thus explaining why it’s necessary for W.I.S.E. to send in one of their top spies to acquire this information.

But so far, we have yet to be introduced to the main antagonist of this story. Yes, we’ve been getting by on the Villain of the Week formula since day one, be it acts of domestic terrorism or a simple hurdle at Eden Academy. We also have the slow burn relationship of Loid and Yor, as well as if/when they will figure out each other’s secret lives. But there is one big piece to this story missing, and it belongs to Anya.

Anya has extraordinary abilities that came about through human experimentation. The narrator said she was “created by accident” by an unknown organization operating under the pursuit of world peace, and gave her the code name “Test Subject 007”. Somehow, she escaped the facility and was placed in an orphanage.

As the reader, this is all the information we have on Anya’s origins. It’s been insinuated that she has repressed most of her memories from before she arrived at the orphanage, including that of her birth mother. She may not even remember her actual age, everyone mentions that she’s very small for a six year old. But she remembers the scientists, and their cruel and unfeeling treatment of her. Now that she has been adopted by Loid and has learned of his mission, she is trying to use her powers to bring about world peace. One of the only other small clues we have been given of her previous life is that she is well versed in “classical language”. A fact that even Loid thinks is strange, since it’s borderline a dead language and isn’t something an average child would have learned before starting school.

But how does Donovan Desmond fit into all of this?

I noticed something strange: while Anya knows the primary mission is to get Loid into Donovan’s social circle, she doesn’t actually know who Donovan is. She knows Damian, and she knows that Donovan is a very important man who controls the future of their country. But she’s never actually seen him in real life, just a distorted version of him from Loid’s mind-play.

Anya missed out on the only other time she could have met Donovan because she fell asleep and was taken home by Becky and her guardian before Donovan arrived. Giving Loid a chance to introduce himself to Donovan when he came looking for Anya.

So how does Donovan Desmond connect to Anya Forger?

What if the human experimentation lab Anya grew up in wasn’t your average crime operation? What if it was secretly funded and run by members of the government, sort of in a Stranger Things and Black Widow fashion? Anya remembers the scientist tell her she needed to strengthen her abilities for the sake of world peace. But one man’s world peace is another man’s genocide.

My theory: Donovan Desmond has zero interest in creating a peace between Ostania and Westalis. In fact, he believes that Westalis is inferior to Ostania and wants to wipe it off the map. It’s been made clear that he has no interest in empathizing with other people, even his own children. So he started and funded these labs in an effort to create super soldiers to fight in the war and to infiltrate Westalis, but Anya was the first and only child to produce inhuman abilities. Even with Donovan’s reclusive nature, if he was the brains behind the operation, he would’ve made occasional visits to the lab to observe its progress. Meaning Anya would have most likely met him in the past before she escaped the lab.

I believe we’re building up to the big reveal when Anya and Donovan finally meet, that they will remember each other from their shared past. Making it clear to Donovan that not only has Anya been living right under his nose this whole time, but Loid isn’t who he claims to be, since he told Donovan he is Anya’s biological father. This would jeopardize Operation Strix and put W.I.S.E. at risk of being revealed. Donovan may even believe that Loid knows Anya can read minds, and was using her to infiltrate his household through his own son. Either way, Anya’s life will be in danger. No way would Donovan let Anya roam freely, he would want to get her back. And by extension, he would need to get rid of her fake parents.

Donovan is more dangerous than he appears to be, and has the power to throw the country into war again. This will inevitably boil over into an all out battle between W.I.S.E. and Donovan Desmond for the future of these two countries.

[sparrow-in-boots]

Thoughts on DesClay~? :3

Finally, my time has come >:D

Goodness me, how do I even start. I’ve fixated on these two for like nine years now, they are an intrinsic part of my personality now. Would not be who I am today without them. This is my permanent damage brainrot and I don’t regret a second of it. I could end this on a “Immaculate shit, flawless, 10000/10″ but why would I when I can just be an unhinged neurodivergent on main?

Clay? Dead from the start of the games, existing only as an impossible program in a machine that at that point in the franchise should not be able to preserve a conscience like that. My dude did that on his own, holy shit?? Literally everyone underestimated him, even to the end, even past his death, that shit eats me up alive!!! Yknow who else was? Desmond, that’s who! I mean, he gets proof his parents were right after all and what does he do? “Yeah sorry about that, but I’m in 100% now.” No reluctant hero shtick, he gets it and he’s on the job now. He takes it in stride even! He only doesn’t stand for being treated badly, especially when it’s unwarranted, and he stands up when others are treated badly too. Clay especially!

Also, the fact that together they are such a powerhouse duo?? Clay might have figured out how to do the memory AI upload, but it was only thanks to Desmond finding his clues and piecing it all together. Without that collaboration, they wouldn’t have even met and Desmond would likely not have recovered from that coma. But also, the fact that Clay is present through those clues since like day 1?? The flashes of them Desmond saw when he slept, then fully seeing them before escaping Abstergo and recognizing them on the Animus 2.0, both a warning and a promise. Then Desmond starts to unravel the Truth and those tidbits of memories from Clay, and the way he reaches out to him in ACB, that “wait, don’t go!”, end meeee!!!!

And then Revelations comes in and Clay is there, a bit harsh but still guiding Desmond along, supporting him, saving him again? The way they interact, Desmond a bit hesitant, unsure how to proceed, but Clay fully with no fucks to give and speaking his mind in his own way. Just, peak “I’m already dead, why should I care what anyone thinks of me?” and “You’ve been on my mind for months, and now you’re here and I just realized I barely know you” energy. To be fair, AC2 and AB set up different expectations about how Clay would be, but yeah I can see this for him in a way. Genuinely wish they had more scenes together, cus boy, the amount of existential talks they could have had together? Just two bros, chilling on the beach, talking about the brotherood, their lives, the universe and everything? If I remember right, Desmond’s narration over his memories are meant to be him talking to Clay, and I can just imagine them discussing those memories, trading stories and thoughts and opinions. Litterally so many missed opportunities there, smfh.

Can we talk about the whole theme of passing the torch on Revelations though? That’s the main theme there, how in life you have to know when to stop and let the younger generations pick up the fight, when enough is enough, when you’re living a life you were handed instead of the one you chose, and when to choose to pick up someone else’s torch not because you’re supposed to but because it’s the right thing to do. Written large, that’s the theme with Altair-Ezio-Desmond, but that’s also the kind of relationship Desmond and Clay have. Clay gave his life twice so Desmond would have the chance to see this whole chain through history to its conclusion. It’s not what he wanted, he has his regrets and nobody wants to be a stepping stone in someone else’s story, History with the capital H won’t remember him, after all. But he didn’t have much of a choice there. Except, he could have chosen to take Desmond’s body instead, could have let him be lost in that coma, but he chose not to at the end. He just, passed the torch over to Desmond, it’s his turn.

And dear fuck does Desmond carry that torch. He stands up to him and his memory, he brought him up like a cautionary tale before but now he speaks solemnly and with respect about Clay, he reflects on the memories he received from him (which makes it sorta canon that the Los Archives DLC was someting Desmond had to go through on his way out of the Black Room), he even starts making an audio log!! Yknow, like Clay did? Fuck, I need a minute--

By the way, I cannot shut the fuck up about the pictures Desmond took on his phone so I will not <3 There are only pictures since Turin, so I assume they gave him that phone pretty early cus there’s a team picture there. There’s pictures of the sky, him standing on the beaches of Rio and drinking a caipirinha, some of the forest and even a kitten he must have met on a walk or something. Good vibes only, small tidbits of life that matter and, that makes living worthwhile, and reminds him of why he’s doing all this.

Sure, getting thrown in a coma after murdering your possible crush will Fuck Up a guy. But you’re telling me that after seeing his two ancestors, the people whose memories he almost lost himself in, die or retire, and then seeing Clay give his life again for him, and then seeing what the solar flare will cause, AND THEN seeing all the possible other lives he could have had because of the Calculations, Desmond didn’t start to get existential? He’s not stupid, he can tell time is running out, so might as well save some mementos while he still can. Leave his own paintings on the wall, if you will :’)

In short, two guys going through an insane amount of bullshit, impossibly meeting after so long and bonding through the shared trauma and despite their designated roles in a play they had no say in, caring for each other and being there for each other when they most needed someone (even if only as a name without a face or personality to attatch to), and then living on because they left such a deep mark on each other, becoming a permanent part of each other and their legacies. What is a man but the sum of his memories? We are the stories we live, the tales we tell ourselves.

[aqp799]

Segawatober Day 31 - Happy Halloween

Well damn. It's the final day. Thank you to everyone who has read my writing and I hope you all enjoyed it. And thank you to the organizers for all the fantastic prompts! It's been a hella fun, and honestly helpful, time. Happy Halloween everybody!!!!

TW: Death and spoilers for Farethere, End Roll, and Walking on a Star Unknown

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It was Halloween, all across the goddess’ worlds, each having their own little celebration. Some were celebrating a very scary time, others harvest, and some both. Let’s take a look at three such celebrations, in honor of the end of this festive month, shall we?

Yuuya was incredibly excited. It was Halloween and the entire town said they’d be participating!!! Even Jekyll said he’d come along for the celebration. He was going as a ghost with Shota, and Gemini made candy for everyone to give to each other for trick or treating! Even though he’s dead, he was still going to enjoy all the kid stuff to his greatest ability! And Halloween would be no exception. When night fell, just like when they celebrated after his general store opened, everyone showed up in costumes even Michibki! Werewolves and ghosts and vampires and witches were gathered on the hill celebrating and laughing and having a good time. When it truly became dark, Michibki gathered them all around to tell scary stories, scaring the kids until Jekyll assured them that they were safe and would be okay. And even though he was told it wouldn’t work, Yuuya admitted that he did try and see if the rumors of ghosts being able to travel back and see their loved ones who were alive on Halloween was true, it wasn’t. But he still was able to enjoy the night with his new family, made of people who knew and didn’t, but all cared for each other deeply. Overall it was a very sweet, albeit a bit bittersweet for those aware, celebration.

Russell didn’t really trick-or-treat as a kid. His parents wouldn’t make him costumes, and wouldn’t really pay him any mind since Halloween was just an excuse to get hammered. But one year, when he was 13, Chris demanded that he come over and they participate before they “were too old to steal some good sweets!” And so Russell ended up being a mummy to Chris’ ghost and got dragged around the town collecting candy. It took him a few doors to understand that he’s supposed to say “trick-or-treat” or that he was allowed to take some candy out of the bowls or that he had to be a bit more energetic or he’d appear creepy, but he got the hang of it. After a while, he could even say he was having fun. It wasn’t much, just a bit of fun, but he appreciated that Chris dragged him along. Of course, Chris was a natural, swindling candy like it was his job, but he always gave Russell a few of his own pieces because “he already had so much and Mom would give it all out”. Russell knew that wasn’t true, Chris’ mom was far too nice, but he took it anyway. And when they finally stopped at the end of the night, he dropped off Chris and started home. He ran into the nice policewoman, who complimented his costume(or lack of now, he left the “mummy wraps” back with Chris), and she brought him home. Neither of his parents were home, so Russell was able to hide all the candy to snack on for a while. It lasted him months. He still cherishes that night, even as he goes to his death.

Apparently, Fukuro and Eddie had come back to Calpucca just in time for their harvest festival. Everywhere they looked, there were pumpkins and wheat and decor. Unlike the Gourmate festival, this was a more private one, a time to honor the land for the harvests it provides and to remember loved ones and fend off vengeful spirits trying to harm the people. They joined in the custom of dressing up as someone else, Eddie deciding to steal Desmond’s clothes much to his chagrin, and Ophelia and Fukuro switched. They carved pumpkins to help ward off the spirits and Fukuro brought offerings to Amrita for the sprites. They helped make the grand feast for everyone, filled with foods from all over the land, and at the end, they joined going door to door with the king giving sweets and receiving them with everyone else on the planet. It was a grand celebration, with laughter and joy and spooks all together. Eddie even joined to give some tales he had learned from him and Fukuro’s journey of spirits and demons from other worlds, with Fukuro occasionally chiming in to correct him on the details. The festival ended late into the night, and Eddie and Fukuro stumbled back into their spaceship, happy to see their friends and excited to see what would happen the next day of the festival, which lasted an entire week. A wild time to be certain, but one they were so happy to be back for.

The goddess always likes to look upon her worlds at this time, because at least a few people in every world have a delightful time, and she can feel their happiness strum through her soul. It was always inspirational, and she adored it dearly.

Truly, a Happy Halloween.

[asphyxiateher]

Only Monsters Come Out at Night

A/N: Debating on whether or not I should put this on AO3. Thoughts? Do I need to edit what I have before posting on my favorite website? Anyways, I’m really into horror and I’d like to try my hand at focusing on MC’s descent into madness while falling for her captors. Dimitrescu Sisters x OFC (Desdemona) Summary: Desdemona, her twin brother and best friend are on vacation in Romania when things go horribly wrong the moment they run out of gas. Desdemona has the misfortune of enchanting the monsters that decided to terrorize her group. 

        It was a cold, pitch black night in the northeastern mountainous region of Romania, a heavy fog enveloping the roads which made it nearly impossible for any source of light to pierce through the gloom. This did not bode well for Desdemona and her friends as they dared to venture through the treacherous weather in order to reach their destination. The humble village of Bran should have been a welcome sight by now although from where the unlucky travelers were currently stranded, Desdemona had her doubts. To make matters worse, her best friend, Veronica, shoved a crumpled map of Brasov, Romania into her boyfriend’s hands and demanded answers. Her hot-headed friend was teetering on the edge of a nervous breakdown.

“Desmond, are you sure we’re headed in the right direction? None of this seems to make sense!”, Veronica exclaimed as she nervously rummaged through her shoulder bag for yet another cigarette. She struggled to light her cigarette this time, the harsh winter’s wind blowing hard against her bare hands caused them to shake violently.

 Desmond sighed in exasperation and ran his fingers through his messy chestnut brown hair, pushing wild dark curls away from his eyes.

“You think the shopkeeper gave us the wrong directions to fuck with us because we’re tourists? I knew we were gonna get shit signal out here in the bum fuck middle of nowhere but come on, the old guy looked knowledgeable. Can’t blame me for trustin’ him.” Desmond casually replied with a shrug. He then took a moment to straighten the map again before folding it neatly and tucking it into his pocket.

Desdemona was of the same mind as her twin. It seemed likely that the locals would be completely burnt out from the flocks of American tourists invading their hometown just to squawk about the castle that inspired Bram Stoker’s Dracula. How exhausting it must be to constantly point out where to go to book a tour or who to call to arrange such things when the internet exists. In hindsight, Desdemona should have known better than to bug the polite yet obviously impatient shopkeeper about their vacation plans.

“Think about it, V, Desmond has a point. The guy probably gave us the run around for shits and giggles. You know, it would have been fine taking a wrong turn and then having to backtrack all the way back into town, but we should have just stayed the night at the Inn. Now we’re outta gas and it’s fucking freezing out here.” Desdemona added, now hugging herself tightly and occasionally rubbing her arms to keep warm for as much as possible.

Veronica growled but relented as she took a long drag of her cigarette, her foot resting against their rented vehicle. She took a deep breath and looked up at the sky. Snowflakes began to drift downwards, and it only fueled Veronica’s anxiety about being stranded in the middle of nowhere in the dark. “Alright, alright, we can either freeze to death in this piece of shit,” Veronica began as she kicks the van for good measure, “or we can freeze to death out there looking for shelter. I think I see a path over there that we can take to find what we need. It might lead us to people who can help us, or it might lead us to certain death. All I know is that we need to make a decision now, it’s starting to snow.” Desmond grins and wraps his arm around Veronica’s waist, pulling her close and pecking her on the cheek. “To certain death it is! Des, grab the essentials and let’s head out. According to the map, there are a few small villages in the surrounding area. Chances are we’ll stumble into one of them eventually and find shelter. We’ll get this mess sorted out.” Desmond eagerly stepped away from Veronica’s embrace and stepped towards the beaten van.

After a few moments of scrounging around for what they deemed important, Desdemona ended up with a backpack full of snacks, water, spare clothes, and the first aid kid. Veronica settled for an entire carton of cigarettes and a few spare lighters because you know, it was “absolutely essential” to her survival in a foreign land. Desmond found a flashlight and decided that going light would be preferable to him in case they ran into any trouble. They paved the way forward, following the path that strayed away from the lonely sliver of road. Turning back to get a final look at the abandoned van, Desdemona swallowed the surge of fear that was beginning to creep up on her. She had seen enough horror movies in her lifetime knowing that this probably wasn’t going to end up well for her little group. The logical side of her brain, what little rational thoughts she had left, gnawed their way through her brain begging to be voiced out and heard.

‘Turn back around, it’s safer to stay put and wait until morning! This is dangerous and you know it!’

Desdemona reluctantly glanced back at her brother walking ahead with Veronica hand in hand and the younger twin suddenly stopped in her tracks. Maybe she should stay behind just in case while her gregarious brother searched for help in these mountains; after all, he was far more easygoing and could easily charm the most stubborn of fools into helping him.

“Des, what’s wrong? I thought we all agreed that we should stick together.” Veronica called out to her, uncertainty lacing her tone as her eyes flicked back and forth between the van and a terrified looking Desdemona.

Nervously fidgeting in place, Desdemona struggles to settle the conflicted thoughts warring in her mind. She knows that staying behind and waiting for help would be the wisest course of action, but there was safety in numbers. There’s danger lurking beyond the vast expanse of mountains that surrounded them and she would be utterly defenseless if left alone. Desdemona’s instincts were begging her to go back to the van but the connection she shared with her twin demanded that she follow him through the sketchy path that would most likely lead to their demise. She couldn’t let anything happen to Desmond, she would never forgive herself if something happened to him out here.

With a shaky resolve, Desdemona straightened up and gazed back at Veronica with a small smile on her face. “I’m just nervous, you know. Desmond and I binge watched all the Wrong Turn movies last Saturday so being out here alone in the dark is uh, freaking me out a little. I’ll be fine, though, let’s just keep going.” Desdemona lied as she rushed over to her best friend who rolled her eyes at the revelation.

“No wonder you’re acting all sketch, Des. First of all, binge watching horror movies the weekend before your vacation was stupid as hell so now you’re all hyped up over nothing. Secondly, Wrong Turn sucks. Y’all should have binged Hatchet, Danielle Harris is so hot!” Veronica declared, eager to get conversation going as the three of them trekked through a rocky and narrow trail that led to who knows where.

Desmond was quick to reply in defense of his favorite horror movie franchise and Desdemona was thankful to hear them bicker back and forth. The conversation drowned out the sound of cold whispers tickling naked branches in the distance, the loud crunching of their footsteps on the snow-covered ground, and ravens crying out above them. It was so eerie and something about it all didn’t sit right with Desdemona. She hooked an arm around Veronica’s free arm and together they discussed their favorite horror movies. Veronica could tell her best friend was still a little spooked, so she pulled her closer until she was pressed against her side to provide as much comfort as she could give.

The trail continued to narrow the further they moved along but nothing they observed thus far gave the impression that that anything was out of the ordinary. When they reached a clearing, Desmond sighed with relief. His breath steaming the frigid air was nearly the only thing they could see ahead if it weren’t for the flashlight providing what little comforting light source they had. The snow fall began to pick up the pace but it wasn’t blinding, thankfully. Desmond brushed aside large shrubs and stepped further into the winding path, coming to a full stop when he realized what lay ahead of the weary travelers.

The trio stared in awe at the overpowering sight of a 15th century castle looming over a quiet village sheltering underneath a blanket of darkness, or what Desdemona assumed was its shadow. No amount of fog could hide the monstrosity that was the architectural brilliance of this castle that Desdemona saw before her very eyes.

“Desmond, honey, where the hell do you think you’re going? Don’t leave Dezzy and I behind!” Veronica suddenly shrieked as she sprinted after her overly excited boyfriend down the hill that led into the village. Desmond turned around and could only offer a sheepish smile with a shrug before eagerly running into the unknown. Desdemona tore her gaze away from the castle and spurred into action, jumping and running as fast as she could in order to catch up with her twin.

Desmond was energized by both the cool crisp air and the promising sight of civilization, but that energy was quickly drained out of him when he encountered something wholly unexpected. Veronica reached the eldest Hawthorne sibling and was about to admonish him for leaving the two frightened girls behind, but she was quickly shushed by Desmond. Desdemona quietly approached the scene, her eyes widening when she realized that this was not the village of Bran at all.

They had indeed reached a small village but it looked completely obliterated. The houses looked shattered and broken, as if something gigantic and menacing had come through and picked away at the people that once inhabited this community one by one. Desmond cautiously led the group forward, calling out for any signs of survivors. This wasn’t on the itinerary…

Veronica was on the verge of tears, her hands covering her mouth as she observed the tragic scene before her. Every now and then, she would step into a broken home and call out to somebody – anybody- only to step back out with a grim look on her face. She pulled out her cell phone and attempted to dial emergency services only to be met with disappointment.

“There’s blood.” Desmond says quietly. His eyes peer over the trail of fresh blood and fear grips him the moment the flashlight scans over the corpse of a rotting horse. “Fuck, that stench – we need to get the fuck out of here now!” Veronica cries, gagging and turning away from the horrific view.

Desdemona would have expressed an equally strong reaction had she not felt a sense of…wrongness abruptly assaulting the atmosphere. The moment they stepped foot into the village, the environment reacted to their presence and that did not sit right with Desdemona at all.

“Desmond, do you hear that?” Desdemona asked, her voice laced with terror. Desmond Hawthorne heard the fear in his sister’s quivering voice and it made him feel uneasy. “I don’t hear anything, Des.” He replies as he reaches for Veronica’s hand and squeezes it tight. The couple began to frantically look around them as they slowly backed into Desdemona. As soon as they grouped up again, both Veronica and Desmond wrapped themselves around the youngest sister. The oppressive silence sent a whole new wave of fear over the group before something insidious could be heard approaching them in the distance. Desdemona gasped when she heard maniacal giggling and it was getting louder. A fluttering of what sounds like wings -bats, ravens, perhaps- advancing towards the group sent chills down Desdemona’s spine. What the hell was coming after them?

Desmond flashed his light from side to side before it settled on the massive black ball of insects that instantly appeared before him. The insects dissipated and somehow revealed the shape of a human being wearing a dark robe and hood. The only thing he could truly make out was the color of a red pendant wrapped around dainty, pale skin and a blood smeared smirk. Desmond’s heart dropped in absolute horror and panic immediately set in.

“RUN!” He screamed, taking off with a terrified Veronica in tow. Neither of them looked back to make sure Desdemona was following. The flashlight dropped, and it briefly circled the ground. The flickering light revealed two other black masses of insects approaching the younger Hawthorne sibling who was paralyzed with fear. All she could hear in that moment was delirious laughter coming from the women that revealed themselves two seconds later, the insects dissolving into thin air right before her very eyes.

The crazed woman standing directly in front of Desdemona leaned forward and took her time sniffing her pretty prey who stared at her with petrified gray eyes. Desdemona found it alarming that despite the lunatic’s appearance, dried blood caked on her lips and unruly red hair and a wild, untamed look in her eyes, she found her quite…striking. Perhaps she was going mad. None of this made sense, how could this be happening right now?

“Mmm, sisters, look at what I found. Such a pretty young thing all for me and she smells oh so delicious.” The woman with the green pendant spoke, giggling madly at the profound effect she had on Desdemona.

 “Daniela, you’re delusional, she’s mine; I’m the one who picked up on her tasty scent!” The one with the red pendant spoke after she turned her attention to the only human who didn’t run from them.

The brunette with the yellow pendant reached over and yanked on Desdemona’s hair so hard back, Desdemona thought her life was over. She bared her teeth as she skimmed her nose across the young woman’s neck. Her tongue darted out between blood smeared lips and left a wet trail, causing the smaller woman’s breath to hitch at the unwelcome contact.

“Mmm, she smells so utterly divine. Bela, by the way, it wasn’t you who found MY new pet, it was me! You ungrateful wretches always want to touch what’s mine!” The hooded figure’s grip on her hair tightened and Desdemona whined, causing all three women to delight in her torment.

What Desdemona couldn’t figure out was what they wanted to do with her exactly and why they were fighting over her like three starved wild dogs fighting over a piece of meat. She needed to get out of there fast. “LET GO OF MY SISTER, YOU UGLY CUNTS!” Desmond’s angry voice broke through in the distance and all three creatures turned their attention on the young man who dared interrupt dinner time.

Desdemona decided this was the time to take advantage of their distraction and she quickly slipped away, sprinting as fast as she could to the nearest unoccupied house. Desmond, relieved that his sister broke free from whatever those things were, spun on his heel and ran the opposite direction. He could only hope that all three of them would make it out of this godforsaken village alive.

All three women threw their heads back and laughed wildly into the air as they knew catching their prey would be much more satisfying when they caught them alone in isolated surroundings. It added to their fear and it made the blood taste that much sweeter.

“The hunt is on, sisters. Leave the pretty plaything alive, but the others, we will present to our dear mother as gifts. We’ll make the new pet watch mother undo their very lives; it’ll only make her that much more delicious when we have our fill.” The one with the yellow pendant stated as she sniffed at the air, shuddering when Desdemona’s irresistible scent filled her nostrils once more.

Desdemona found refuge in a large house a few yards away and slammed the front door shut when she ran inside. She quickly assessed what she assumed was the living room, she found a bookcase and summoned whatever strength she had and brought it down in front of the door. She heard something clawing at the door the instant she blocked the entrance, the door shaking violently and mad laughter filling her ears once more.

Desdemona shakily reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, turning on the flashlight and began to look for another way out.

‘Jesus fucking Christ, Jesus Christ! What the fuck are those things!? Where’s Desmond? Is Veronica alright? How the hell do I get out of here? I just want to go home!’ Desdemona’s mind was running through a million thoughts per second but she couldn’t for the life of her settle on anything that would give her a moment’s peace. She was sobbing uncontrollably as she explored the dark home, her hands stretched out in front of her as she searched for anything that would provide answers to her problems. When she found a door near the kitchen, she cautiously opened it and cursed the eerie creaking sound that followed. It was discovered that the door led to a cellar of some kind and Desdemona rushed down the stairs without closing the door behind her. She slowly scanned the large open space and saw that this home had been recently ransacked or rummaged through. Clothes were scattered across the floor, furniture had been broken in half and tossed carelessly to the side but Desdemona found a hallway beyond the room she was in. ‘That must be the way out. Hurry up and grab something to protect yourself with!’

Desdemona carefully tip toed around the clutter, her phone flashing from side to side but to no avail, she couldn’t find anything that would prove harmful to whatever those monsters were outside. The woman nearly tripped over and fell when her foot stepped in something thick and wet, causing her foot to slip forward. Desdemona quickly steadied herself on a cabinet but it didn’t make her feel any better when she realized her fingers were covered in a thick, red substance.

Her breathing growing heavier, Desdemona flashed her phone light over to the cabinet only to find that it was covered in blood – a lot of it, to be exact and it was still dripping on the floor as though it were fresh.

All color drained from Desdemona’s face when she heard pained howling coming from the village; it was Desmond and he was screaming for help. Her twin was in danger and here she was selfishly trying to find a way to preserve her own life.

She quickly twisted around to run towards the howling but she stopped dead in her tracks when a black mass of insects appeared before her. The cloaked figure could only be identified by the color of her green pendant and a delirious smile plastered on her face. Fresh blood dripped down her chin and Desdemona’s eyes reluctantly followed the pool of blood forming at their feet. There was a sickle in her right hand and it was covered in blood, much to Desdemona’s dismay.

Desdemona began to tremble, overpowered by the frightening sight and the implications that followed a bloodied sickle carried by a madwoman. “The sound of your heart hammering against your chest is like music to my ears, pretty thing. Do not fret, my beauty, the moment we met I knew you were special. You’re meant to be mine, we’re meant to be!” She whispers madly, her tongue wetting her lips as her eyes rake over Desdemona’s body slowly and deliberately.

Desdemona doesn’t know what she’s talking about and she doesn’t want to know. Before she could form any kind of response, she’s pinned against the bloody cabinet behind her. She gasps in surprise and that seems to trigger the creature into action.

Desdemona screams as the hooded woman lunges at her collarbone and pierces through her skin with her razor sharp teeth. Desdemona weakly clutches at the woman’s shoulders, growing lightheaded from the sudden blood loss that was occurring. Feeling the woman about to collapse in her arms, Daniela pulls back and savors the taste of her blood. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she sloppily licks the blood off her mouth and regains what little self-control she had left to preserve her pretty plaything for a little while longer.

When dazed gray eyes meet hers, Daniela’s cold, black heart skips a beat. She had never seen anything more beautiful. So she raises her sickle, causing Desdemona’s eyes to widen in panic and Daniela can’t help but giggle a little.

“Don’t worry, my beauty, I’ll be gentle with you. The hideous man-thing and his bitch aren’t going to be as lucky as you, I hope. You deserve special treatment.” Daniela whispers, her fingers caressing her prey’s tear-stained cheek before swinging the sickle with full forced into the back of Desdemona’s thigh.

Desdemona remembers a high-pitched shriek escaping her but nothing else seems to come to mind after that. She remembers her vision blurring and a creeping darkness soothing her to sleep but what happened after, nothing. She enters the haunting abyss that welcomes her with black tendrils pulling her from reality, sleep coming to her easily. With better luck, she’ll never have to wake up again.

Only fools believe in luck as the nightmare has only just begun.

[justal0wk3yg4mer]

Things I've Said: Watch Dogs Legion (Spoilers)

Me *Player/My Actions* Character Dialogue

Heads up, this will be a long post. Due to the story and all the random missions there was a lot. Not to mention, I still have to play the DLC (That will be in a different post, I will give Aiden and Wrench the respect they deserve.) So sorry and I hope you all enjoy.

It's time to liberate London Boys! *Remembering all the other games I've played that had me liberate London*…Again.

Holy shit, it's November the 5th. 21st Century style.

Wait, am I driving on the left side? Fuck, I'm American and I already suck at driving in videogames.

Give me your secrets.

Bagley: Well fuck me. Me: Bagley! 😲

Long hiatus from this game, because I have the attention span of a 5 year old and started playing other games. I came back to it later and restarted to give myself the full experience and completely focus on this game.

Okay, first go around didn't know about the traps. Now? Now I'm never entering an area without arming every single one.

Careful Claire, those words get you shot.

The voice acting is phenomenal!

I'm so glad I bought the pass, fucking around as Aiden or Wrench is gonna be fun.

You can't find me~~ nobody can find me~~

This is now my cargo drone son, his name is Jeeves. We will travel together and explore London from the skies.

That's Dedsec, ye old clock fixers.

And here I go again. Doing everything else but the main story.

My operatives be lookin' bougie 😎

Fuck this wheel mission. Fuck it so hard.

Who's playing 'Fuck you'? *Goes back to the bike I was riding* Oh! I'm playing 'Fuck you'. Fantastic.

Who's shooting? I appreciate violence but not that violent.

Character: Albion's Global Center is here in London! Me: Crazy...not like they were establish here.

Is that? Is that the DJ from the first game? No, he died...right?

My spiderbaby got the zoomies!

That's Dedsec, we inspire illegal activities.

Bagley roosting someone is the highlight of my day.

Did you hear that man?! They're hoarding the toilet paper!

Bagley, next time, just say you're gonna make the bomb go boom.

Cybermen. Cybermen are back and taking people. (Doctor Who anyone?)

Yo Wrench, Bagley throwing shade at you and your crew.

Dalton had a husband?! Aw, poor baby, not gettin' deported on my watch.

That's incest Wrench.

Hm, Aiden still has that voice.

This house scares me; it has a tone. The AI is her mom, as fucked as that is, I'm calling it.

Oh Aiden, you're not that old...are you?

*Before starting the Assassin's creed missions* Wait, wait. I gotta do it. *Switches to Aiden Pearce* I had to do it, This is the closest thing to a crossover Ubisoft is gonna give us.

Eagle drone? I'm dead. *Gets closer to the drone and it explodes* Did that thing screech?!

Notorious gangsters? Oh, Evie would have a fit. Jacob would be so happy though.

Oh honey, you don't want to get into that wiki history lesson.

Darcy: Assassin's and Dedsec. Could you ever image that? Me: Uh, yeah. It was only a matter of time before Ubisoft broke down.

To Buckingham Palace! *Starts humming 'Hail to the Chief'* Wait, shit sorry, wrong song.

*Finishes all the assassin missions* Oh, new outfit. *Recognizes it as Desmond Miles's outfit* ...Fuck you Ubisoft.

Ah, I see. You can't continue until you do the other level. I see your jedi mind tricks.

Bagley: Oh no, she's off her fucking rocker for sure. Me: *WHEEZING*

*Hears something exploding in the distance* I didn't do it.

I feel that Zero-Day is memeing here. Like the, 'Would be a shame if I', that one.

I fucking knew it! You can't be that much of an asshole AND be desperate for help.

Lau please, for the love of God do not let this woman walk away from here. Fucking look at her smug face!

Random ACP: *Sneezes* Me: *Out of habit* Bless you. ACP: Thank you. Me: O.o *Cue X-Files theme*

Wow, you went off your fucking rocker didn't you?

On my grave. If this boss battle is a Rule of 3. *A few minutes later* IT'S A RULE OF 3!!!

You know you-*Referencing myself. Not calling anyone out*-suck when the game is giving you a fucking hint to go to an easier level.

What if Hamish was Zero-Day? I would be surprised...no, actually I wouldn't. If you really think about it, it makes sense. Now, Sabine? That would totally mindfuck me.

*Talks to Malik and really thinks for a moment* Is it fucking Sabine? Bro, I was kidding. But...*Really thinks about it and pieces are beginning to fit together*...oh fuck. And all of Dedsec is in one place- OH FUCK.

I am going to destroy this fucking van.

Evil listens to classical music cliché.

We gotta kill Bagley! Why?! Well okay, I understand why but WHY!?

*Chaos everywhere* Did I miss the Purge sirens?

Me: Why are there all these weapon caches? Hamish: Tons of drones comin' your way. Me: Ah, that's why.

Bagley: Shutting down this one will be just like the others. Me & My Operative at the same time: No it won't.

Final cutscene? *A minute later* Bagley! You tough AI--wait...'Finding Bagley'?!

How fucking would that be if Bagley was Sky Larson's brother and something happened to him and he became Sky's first subject.

Bagley did you have a boyfriend? 😃

*Plays the final corrupt memory* I FUCKING CALLED IT.

Bagley is Bagley. And Bradley is Bradley. And Sky Larson is dead. All is well.

[ultrahpfan5blog]

Retrospective Review: Dalton and Brosnan Bond Era

So finally I am at the era of Bond films that I know a bit more of. I had not seen The Living Daylights or License to Kill in their entirety before, but I had seen all 4 Brosnan movies. He was the Bond I knew first before I saw Casino Royale. But I was looking forward to seeing Dalton's Bond movies because I had heard they were more serious and grounded.

For me, the both the Dalton films are really solid Bond movies. They are a refreshing break from what the Roger Moore had become towards the end. Not to mention, Dalton actually looks like he's in the type of shape and age to be a secret agent, running from country to country. The Living Daylights is good. There is immediately a more grounded story of espionage. But the better Dalton movie imo is License to Kill. Which is the revenge movie that we never got after Tracy Bond's death. License to Kill is really good. There is less romantic entanglement because Bond is more focused on what he wants to accomplish. And there is a slightly unhinged edge to him. Plus, you can tell that the movie is going into some darker stuff compared to previous Bond movies.

When it comes to the Brosnan era, I have a bit of a bias since he was the first Bond I ever saw. I genuinely like 3 out of the 4 Brosnan movies. GoldenEye is arguably one of my favorite Bond movies. It is fast paced, it has a good villain, it moves away from the stereotypical cold war era Bond plot, the Bond girls are good, and the action is splendid. Its the best of the Brosnan era. Given its made by Martin Cambell who also made Casino Royale, it doesn't surprise me. I know people aren't necessarily big fans of Tomorrow Never Dies and The World is Not Enough, but I like both. Tomorrow Never Dies is really fast paced. There are some really solid action sequences, including a big bike chase which is quite fun. I actually liked the news mogul as villain idea. Its maybe more relevant now with the idea of 'fake news'. The World is Not Enough is more classical Bond. Its a more personal plot because M and Bond are more intricately involved with some of the players. Bond also has more of edge and is harsher in this movie which is actually pretty cool to watch. There is also a really disturbing element with the relationship between Renard and Elektra King which is also interesting. Die Another Day is unbelievably dumb for sure. To be fair, its fun in a dumb way but it goes into full blown science fiction with the whole idea of DNA being changed and a Korean man becoming a white british guy. Then there is the whole beam of sun villain plot. It is incredibly cartoonish. Its also the most effects heavy of the Bond movies and the effects have not aged well at all. The Brosnan era is one full of really cringey double entendres from Bond. In every movie, there are at least 4-5 and everyone of them is just so cringeworthy now but it seems that the writers were so proud of themselves when they wrote those lines.

The Bond girls across all these eras were a mixed bag to be sure. Kara Milovy, the Cellist from The Living Daylights is a bit on the dimmer side for sure. But there is some humor there because you see Dalton's Bond get really frustrated with her at times. Pam Bouvier is a pretty good Bond Girl because she is actually quite important to the story and plays an active role in rescuing Bond. Lupe is also not bad. In the Brosnan era, Natalya was pretty good. The romance between her and Bond wasn't really necessary and could have been taken out, but she is at least a competent person who is not dependent on Bond doing everything. We also get maybe the hottest side villain of all time in Famke Janssen's Xenia Onnatopp. I loved how sexually charged and batshit crazy she was. I had a crush on Teri Hatcher in the 90's when she was Lois so I always love seeing her even though she's there just to be killed off in TND. Michelle Yeoh was a badass even then. So she was cool. TWINE has the first Bond girl who is the main villain. I loved Sophie Marceu in that role of Elektra King because you are not sure how much to feel sorry for her in how her mind was warped by her trauma and how much to be a bit disgusted by her. Denise Richards on the other hand is perhaps the most hilarious piece of miscastings in a movie that I have seen. She is so completely wrong for the role that its almost entertaining to watch how bad she is. I would love to hear the casting director try and justify her casting for the role in any way other than to say that she is hot. Rosamund Pike and Halley Berry are probably the biggest names out of all the Bond girls. They have done much bigger and better things since but in Die Another Day, they are basically just there to fight each other and be bedded by Bond.

The villains are similarly a mixed bag. In The Living Daylights, the villains are nothing much to speak of. License to Kill has some good villains because Sanchez has some menace to him as does a young Benicio Del Toro as Dario. I think Sean Bean is one of the best Bond villains. Jonathan Pryce seemed to be having a ball in Tomorrow Never Dies. And I already mentioned that Marceu was damn good as Elektra. Renard is more the physical villain in TWINE but he feels more like a henchman for Elektra by the end. Gustav Graves is just completely ridiculous an a villain that just can't be taken seriously. He also wears a power rangers looking suit by the end of the movie which doesn't help.

One of the big plusses of the Brosnan era is the inspired casting of Judi Dench as M. She was so good that they kept her in the rebooted Craig era, despite a possibility of confusing the audience. M in the past was just a figure who gave Bond the mission and occasionally told him off. Judi Dench brings a personality and a weight to the character. She has a combative relationship with Bond but you still see that they share mutual respect, especially when you see where she admits that he's the best agent she has in TWINE. After the Roger Moore era, there was a refreshing in some cast such as Moneypenny which changed to Caroline Bliss under Dalton, and then to Samantha Bond under Brosnan. We also got the introduction to John Cleese as the new Q in the last two Brosnan films, taking over from Desmond Llewelyn. Robbie Coltraine has an entertaining supporting role in GoldenEye and TWINE. The Dalton era also saw the last use of Felix Leiter until the Craig era.

When it comes to the Bonds themselves, I think Dalton is extremely underrated. I think he is a precursor in spirit to Craig's Bond. I love the darker edge to his Bond. He gets angry and frustrated. It humanizes his Bond so we see he's not a superhero. He doesn't have the suaveness and charisma of a Moore or Connery but he has the physicality for it. He sells the action scenes far more than Moore did. He is really good in License to Kill which played to Dalton's strengths as an actor. Brosnan's portrayal split the difference between Moore and Dalton. He feels very much like a mixture of the two. He has the suaveness and charm to feel like the womanizing Bond, but he also brings out moments of anger and harshness. Even in the goofiness of Die Another Day, you always feel that Brosnan is giving it his all. I really like him particularly in GoldenEye and TWINE. I do feel both Dalton and Brosnan are underrated as Bond because they were both very good.

Anyways, now only the 4 Craig films, coupled wit No Time to Die. Not sure if I should do a restrospective on the 4 Craig Bond films and then do a separate one for No Time to Die or just include them all together to do a Craig era review since those films are so interlinked.

[manychocolatefactories]

CatCF: White Chocolate

And here is my White Chocolate retelling!

About this version: This version could take place in something between the 90s and the 2000s. It has been strongly inspired by both the world of cartoons in general, and "A Series of Unfortunate Events", as strange as it may seem. In this version, you have Seven Platinum Tickets.

Reinterpretation of Augustus Gloop:

Augustus Gloop, first Platinum Ticket winner. This Augustus, I imagined as a bully.

Physically, he is a very round boy. His belly is round, his torso is round, his face is round, his arms and legs are round, he basically looks like a bunch of balloons tied together, or a mass of spheres/globes. He has two great "beaver teeth". In terms of clothes, he eithers wears hoodies too small for him and of bright, vivid, flashy colors (orange, yellow, pink) or he wears striped shirts that are not slimming at all (such as the red and white stripes shirt of Augustus Gloop in the 2005 movie).

To all adults, Augustus plays the part of the cute, happy, innocent boy. But to all the other kids, he is a horrible, nasty, brutal and greedy bully. He likes to torture and dominate others - though he is not a sadist. He just seeks power and dominion, he loves to strike fear and submission in the heart of other children. A good exemple of his double-faced nature are his beaver teeth - he can actually speak perfectly fine with them, even though they gave him a slight lisp that is quite cute to adults. But with children, he worsens his lisp on purpose so that he would spit and splutter all over their faces, and when said children complain, the adults keep saying things like "He can't help it, he is just different, don't discriminate".

Augustus actually used to be a regular-sized kid (even though taller and bigger than his comrades, but not that fat). He regularly beat up, gave wedgies or other typical bully tortures on his peers to get their money or their toys. But it all changed when one day a boy had the idea to offer him his lunch instead of his money. Augustus was a big eater you see, and he seized the opportunity of having a free lunch. And since all the other kids preferred to give up their lunch rather than their money of their toys, they all started to "encourage" (as in, subtly manipulating him) so that he would racket lunch and food instead of money out of them. As a result, Augustus grew immensely fat on all the free food he got each day - and with his bigger size he could intimidate and crush other kids more easily. But at least, they didn't had to steal money from their parents anymore.

His demise will be with the Exploding Candies (remember those?). I think they would be going by a section of the Factory where some of Wonka's candies are stored, and Augustus would see another kid holding an Exploding Candy. Not knowing what it is, he would bully said kid (maybe Charlie?) into giving it to him. He would swallow it and then...

BOOM! HE EXPLODES INTO LITTLE PIECES!

No, I'm kidding Xp Actually I went with something much more cartoony (this Augustus himself being cartoony - in fact I based him in "fat Chuck with beaver teeth" from the cartoon "Chuck's Choices". It may sound weird but it makes kind of sense in the series Xp). He would  suddenly be all distended and inflated like a balloon, and then deflate completely (again, like a balloon), reduced to a flat, pancake-like boy, with smoke coming out of his mouth, nose and ears.

Reinterpretation of Violet Beauregarde:

The character is named Violet Strabismus, second Platinum Ticket winner. For her, I tried to think about what kind of people/archetype/stereotypes were seen chewing gum all day long, and I ended up finding this idea upon seeing a girl on a train that corresponded exactly to that.

This Violet is the typical embodiment of the cynic, "pseudo-edgy" teenager that seeks everything that is bleak and dark. She is a mix of goth, of emo, of punk and grunge. She only wears and surround herself with things dark, creepy, sinister or sad. She romanticizes notions such as despair, death, suicides, and the like. She is the kind of teenager that claims her whole life is just a series of pains and losses, that she seeks comfort in the darkness and the morbidity, and she disdains everything joyful, innocent or happy. Her two favorite hobbies are chewing gum, and trying to destroy other people's dreams and hopes with depressing talk.

The irony in all that, however, is that despite Violet's claims that she has a miserable and sad life, she actually has a very happy one. She has loving parents that support her in everything she does, and siblings that also love her. She comes from a wealthy background, which allows her to buy all the chains and piercings and extremely complicated goth/punk clothes she wants at specialized stores. She is quite a pretty and good-looking girl, even with her creepy clothes and dark makeup. She even has a huge house, and in fact despite her claims to adore death, never went to a funeral ever in her life, and never knew anyone that died. Still, she keeps repeating that she is a "misunderstood, bullied, rejected loner". And she is not suicidal herself, mind you, nor depressed. She is perfectly fine. She just wants to look like she is, to "fit her style".

Her demise, as with all the Violet variations in my stories, relies on the Three-Course Meal gum. But here, the dish used is the ice-cream. I had the idea that the gum would actually turn Violet's flesh into ice-cream. As a result she is immediately put inside Wonka's cold storage room and freezers, so she doesn't melt. And she is condemned to live her life alone, in dark, cold, locked up places, exactly as she pretended and wished to.

Reinterpretation of Veruca Salt:

Now, I am not much satisfied with this Veruca Salt, but well, it is still worth a shot, even though the idea itself may be not so original.

Veruca Salt, third Platinum Ticket winner. For this Veruca, I envisioned actually a character based on Darla Dimple from "Cats Don't Dance". She is a small, cute and child-like girl, that looks almost like a pretty little doll, but who is able to scream with an insanely powerful voice and can act like a total brat by throwing extremely destructive tantrums and breaking everything everywhere if she doesn't have what she wants.

Her demise was actually suggested by ArtMakerProductions - the Geese Room. The Geese Room from the 70s movie would return, with a full room having geese lay chocolate eggs for Easter (I also think Wonka would be disdainful of this silly idea according to which rabbits laid the Easter eggs). And when Veruca would throw one of her usual tantrum, one of the goose would believe her to be one of her children (due to Veruca's screams sounding like a goose' screams) and just sit on her, crushing the little girl. (Not to death of course, but that's one big goose Xp).

Reinterpretation of Mike Teavee:

This one was hard to think about, but I finally found something I'm quite proud of.

Mike's character is obsessed with television, right? And he wishes to be INSIDE television, right, that's the core of his demise. Well... what about a Mike Teavee that is obsessed with television not as a watcher but as an actor?

Henry Trout, fourth Platinum Ticket winner, is a former child actor who used to be the star of numerous teenager sitcoms and other televisions shows by Disney-like productions. All this fame turned him into a spoiled, arrogant and selfish brat, and when he was kicked off the shows, for both being too old AND being just too much of a jerk, he couldn't let go of the past. He believes that everyone knows him through his work as an actor, and that everyone is a fan of him. He spends a lot of his time looking at his old television shows, and television is his only topic when speaking with other people. He still dresses and acts like a star - and never once realizes that a good lot of people don't know or even remember him. As per ArtMakerProductions, his parents are also his agents, and they desperatly try to find back their son's former glory, by "overselling" him to get a lot of media exposure, and still doing a lot of advertisement and promotion despite him not getting any real work - the finding of a Platinum Ticket was another attempt at becoming famous once more.

Take the characters of "fallen stars" such as Norma Desmond in "Sunset Boulevard" and Jane Hudson from "Whatever happened to Baby Jane?". Mix them with the former Disney or Nickelodeon child and teenage stars, especially if they had a dark turn in their life (the Spouse twins, David Henrie, Cameron Boyce, Zac Efron...). And you get Henry Trout.

His demise is still the Television Room, like all the other Mikes. However his variation is that the television Wonka used was prepared to teleport and air objects, such as Wonka bars. It is still a technology in working, and they only focused on the material and visual parts. They haven't worked on the sounds. As a result, once Henry Trout gets on TV, he is insanely happy because now everyone will see him and nobody will kick him out... but then he realizes he can't speak, because there is no sound. And when rescues from the television, he discovers he turned completely mute.

Reinterpretation of Charlie Bucket :

Charlie Bucket, the seventh and last Platinum Ticket winner.

For this one... I actually don't know. I wanted to do a Charlie based on the "brown-haired Charlie" as illustrated for exemple by 2005's Charlie. But I hesitate. On one side, I haven't used yet the idea of "the too-saint Charlie", aka a Charlie Bucket so good and so perfect he becomes a male Mary Sue, unrealistic and annoying, an exaggerated caricature of a good boy. I thought I could potentially use this with the brown-haired Charlie, especially since 2005's Charlie was criticized for being a too-perfect child.

On the other side, I also liked the idea of a crippled Charlie, in the mind of "Tiny Tim" from A Christmas Carol, and I also thought it would be fitting for him...

So I'll let it float for now.

Reinterpretation of the deleted kids :

# Terence Roper. Since this one had barely any personnality in the original drafts, I decided to include him (especially since I already reinvented the two other kids part of his trio - Clarence Crump and Bertie Upside).

I think of Terence Roper as the typical "hot bad guy" archetype. He is a criminal kid, and a little delinquant, that drives despite not having a permit, that steals, that robs, that like to spread chaos and destroy shop windows and tag walls etc... I think he is the son of two famous criminals, and thus thinks of crime as the "family business". But he is also a very good-looking, very charming, and very popular boy, which resulted in him not only being leader of gangs and the like, but also having a sort of cult or worship around him - similarly to how "bad boys" in high schools can be idolized. I think something very similar appened with his parents - I want to explore with this character how people worship criminals, with very successful bandits, mafioso or drug dealers ending up as popular and romanticized and idolized as movie stars, singers or the like.

He is the blousons noirs of the 50s and 60s, the old-fashioned troublemakers pachucos, the greaser delinquants of the movie Grease, and all other fashionable kind-of-criminal groups you could think of.

But the irony here is that Terence actually got his Platinum Ticket by legal means, by buying a chocolate bar - and in fact, for him to have found the Golden Ticket and not stole it is a great disappointment and shame.

For his demise I thought of re-using the Fizzy Lifty Drink. He would stole it in an act of bravado, and drink it without realizing what it was - which would result in him getting a perpetual case of bad gazes (frequent burps, farts, and other stomach noises). This would completely ruin his cool and good looking image, as well as any kind of grace or discretion he may have.

# Miranda Mary Piker. Sixth Platinum Ticket Winner (Terence Roper was fifth). She is based on the character as most know her : a school-obsessed, fun-killing girl. The original incarnation was a stern, no-nonsense, very strict girl that basically acted like any cruel headmistress or teacher from those horrible British boarding schools. However, given that this character was alreayd beautifully reintepreted by Danguy96, I wanted to do something slightly different. This Miranda is more like an "annoying moral guardian". She is still obsessed with school, good work and being an obedient and good child, and she still disdains silly things such as games, entertainment or fun in general, but instead of being a stern and harsh girl, she would rather be a nagging and annoying pest, that keeps giving speeches and sermons to everyone about why you should act a certain way and not another, a walking moralization that keeps trying to teach "proper manners", "maturity" and "basic knowledge" to everyone in a very condescending way. I also thought she would try to dress up as an adult, and thus with adult clothes - but since she is just a cild, said clothes are much too big for her, resulting in her looking kind of ridiculous.

Her demise would, of course, be the Spotty Powder. I can't remember if this was an idea that was suggested to me, or one used by someone else in their reinterpretation, but I like the concept that instead of falling inside the machine and being crushed to death, Miranda (and possibly her school director father) would actually fall into a big pile of the Spotty Powder, and thus develop all the symptoms of a contagious disease and be forbidden from setting a foot in school for a very long period of time.

Reinterpretation of the rival chocolatiers :

This is the big defining feature of White Chocolate. In this version, the rivals of Wonka have a big part to play.

They don't appear in themselves - but they sent emissaeries, messengers and spoekpersons to contact each of the kids that won a Platinum Ticket, in a similar way to the 70s movie, and each chocolatier tempts the kid with a different "treat".

Slugworth seems to be a chocolatier involved in the criminal underworld - his emissaries at least seem to have some criminal undertones, and act through fear and violence rather than seduction. In fact, I think his chocolate and candy business may actually be a "cover" for darker criminal activites, and "washing" of dirty money.

Augustus Gloop receives the visit of a man with "icy blue eyes and nasty purple scars on his cheeks". He passes off as a waiter in the restaurant in which Augustus is celebrating, even though it is just a disguise. He tries to convince Augustus by both subtle threats, and the promise of a free pass and unlimited offer in all the restaurants and buffets of the town.

And Terence Roper, due to his criminal connections, actually is invited to the house of a wealthy man with ties to the criminal world, a creepy man in fancy, wealthy suits, but stuck in a wheelchair and with a fake eye shining like a silver dollar.

Slugworth's purpose seems to be the destruction of Wonka. He tries to convince the children to sabotage or put maybe bombs and things like that inside the Wonka factory, or to ruin batches of candy, stuff like that.

 Prodnose rather keeps sending women as emissaries. In fact  even thought of making Prodnose actually a female chocolatier, but I don't know yet... I thought of Prodnose as some sort of media mogul, that tries to spread their brand to everything (there are Prodnose television shows, book series, toys, sport equipment, gardening tools, etc...) including candy-making and chocolate-making.

One "messenger" contacts Veruca Salt. She is one of the journalists interviewinv the young girl after she found her Ticket. Based on Cherry from the musical, she is a happy, charmant, pleasant woman. But her face has something... weird to it, almost unnatural, as if she had a bad surgery job done to it. And she keeps smiling all the time - her smile seems completely stuck.

Henry Trout is the other one to receive a messenger from Prodnose. As Henry goes to have a new suit tailored for him (because of course Henry only had tailored suit perfectly to his size), the tailor reveals herself as a messenger of Prodnose, who could easily bring back Henry in Prodnose-made television series and shows. The tailor herself is a tall and thin lady all dressed in black, and with long, spindly fingers with long and pointy nails - her hands in fact look like creepy spiders.

I thought of probably Prodnose trying to cause a huge scandal inside the Wonka factory, and thus asking the kids to find out Wonka's dirty secrets, and if not, to invent some that they would "reveal" upon leaving the Factory. Where Slugworth tries to ruin physically and economically Wonka, Prodnose tries to ruin his reputation and to discredit him on moral ground.

 As for Fickelgrubber, he is actually envious of Wonka. I think he is a very young person hailing from a very wealthy and powerful family, and his dream was to become a candy-maker, but he was very bad at it. However he refused to give up - especially when seeing how Wonka was succesful. Fickelgrubber is an envious and jealous child-minded young person, and he refuses to admit Wonka can succeed where he fails. Fickelgrubber has tried to copy and steal Wonka's inventions for years now, but all his attempt ended up failing miserably - he copied the ice-cream that never melt of Wonka, but they had a tendency to turn into rock-hard material. He copied the gum that could create gigantic balloons of Wonka, but he mixed up the recipe, and the gum actually made kids inflate and pop like balloons. And when Fickelgrubber released glow-in-the-dark candies, it was later revealed they contained a huge dose of radioactive components.

Fickelgrubber's emisseries are creepy kids (I still don't know if they are "friends" of his or merely all sorts of cousins of his real family - as I said, Fickelgrubber is quite young, both in spirit and mind).

Violet, upon visiting her local cemetery, is contacted by a beautiful blond teenager standing on the wall of the cemetery. He acts flirtingly, seductively, playing the "good cop" (and he also actually acts like a cat, meowing, purring and sometimes even moving like a cat - I thought of him as a parody of Cat Noir from Miraculous). And when Violet is not receptive to this, the boy presents his sister, that is waiting behind Violet. A big, burly, muscular girl with a bulldog-like face.

Miranda is also contacted by Fickelgrubber emissaries - twin girls, identical, but "perfect", as in with perfectly clean and ordered clothes, identical beautiful hairstyle, and the like (I thought of them as inspired by the twins from The Shining). They are basically the kind of "perfect" and "proper" kids Miranda seeks to create in the world. And they try to convince her to join them (they even have prepared for Miranda clothes identical to their own so that they would become their new sister). I don't know however how would Miranda react to that - either she refuses, due to stealing secrets being perceived as cheating and she is against it  ; either the sisters actually convince her to go along with the plan by the simple argument that Wonka is an excentric, ridiculous man that gets success without hard work, and Miranda hates both goofy/clownish and not-hard-working people.

As for Charlie Bucket, he will actually be visited in turn by one messenger from each chocolatier (in fact, he may even escape them when they start fighting each other).

Slugworth's emissary... I actually don't know. Xp I thought of maybe a kind olf man, almost grandfather like, that acts all nice and doting, but then reveals that inside his cane, there is a blade.

Prodnose's emissary is a loud-talking woman with a lot of makeup and wearing a huge coat made out of crocodile (I thought of her as a mix of Cruella and Ursula).

As for Fickelgrubber's emissaries, Charlie meets at first a beautiful Japanese teenager (male or female?) dressed in a refined suit, something between a fashion model and a succesful business owner. And when their smooth talk fails, they present their brothers - because they are triplets. And appear from the darkness two huge sumos, teenagers yes, but the size of elephants. (This was again inspired by usual sumo appearances in cartoons, from JCA to the Simpsons passing by Shuriken School).

[storytimefromthecreed]

The Other Side of the War

When one steps into the Animus, in the time it takes for the world to appear, everything is grey. That’s what it was like right now. Searching the horizon for the world to appear, Desmond searched the grey and found that this was not the case. It remained ever present, and panic shot through him. Something was wrong. Maybe the Animus glitched? Maybe something had happened to the rest of the team, and he was stuck in that damn chair?

If he had a heart, it would be hammering. That should’ve confirmed the thing he dreaded most was true. Perhaps, when you get there, this is what you have to figure out on your own.

As the memories resurfaced, he pieced through his day. Did he need more time with Connor? He’d thought he’d finished his story. Oh. They had. They’d found what needed finding. He remembered waking up and wishing he had coffee. Juno, the face of his family as he pushed them away, the burning. It was the most painful thing he’d ever felt in his entire life. “Maybe that’s why it killed me.” Taken aback that he’d spoken the words, Desmond looked around once more. For a world that would never build.

Of course, he would wind up in hell.

Falling to the ground with a sob, Desmond sat and pulled his knees to his chest. For a moment, he just sat there and wept. Then, he yelled into the void, “I’ve done a lot of bad things in my life!” There was no echo. “I’ve lied, cheated, stole. Hell, I’ve even killed, but you know what?” He waited, what for? He wasn’t sure. Maybe the Devil would show his face or God would smite him. “I’d do it all again! Ok? I fought for good, for the lives of the innocent, for the right to choose, and I’d do it again!” Nothing happened, and so Desmond returned to his crying.

A beam of light appeared a few steps away, like someone had drawn a curtain. The beam grew until a shadow formed inside it, and Desmond braced himself for a fight. He was an Assassin, after all.

He plopped down beside him and offered him a hand. Gold eyes twinkling at the sight of him. “God, I must be really handsome for my line to turn out as it has.” Desmond knew that voice, had spoken it, and yet it should be impossible for this person to be before him. His life was always filled with impossibilities. “Des-mound.” His accent was thick and made Desmond smile. “It’s really good to finally meet you.” Taking his hand, Altair helped him up. “Now, without delay! I had to fight the others to be first in line, and I’m sure they’re going to be mad if we’re late.” He’d began to make a step but stopped when he saw Desmond paled.

“The others?” He asked.

Altair nodded, “Yes. The other Assassins.” Now, he smiled, “We’ve been watching the adventure you’ve been on, and I have to say, Des-mound. We…we’re all so proud.”

“Proud?” Desmond pulled his arm away and cradled it against his chest. It should’ve been burned, and yet his tattoos were in perfect condition. “How can you be proud of me? I died. I made the wrong call. I…I lost.”

A hand went to his shoulder, and he looked up to see Altair giving him a soft smile, “Des-mound, a friend once told me what I am going to tell you. War is endless, it is a cycle between good and evil. It is, and always shall be. We make war on others and they in turn make war on us. Now, that’s not saying that it’s hopeless or not worth fighting, all it is saying is that there are no winners and losers. There simply is. As long as you fight for truth, for good, you’ll always win.” Tears sprang into Desmond’s eyes, and Altair felt a pang of sorrow. Maybe Connor and Ezio were right. They were better with their words and never would’ve made Desmond cry. Just as he was about to say this, Desmond wiping his face and finally smiled.

“Thank you, Altair.”

Swiftly, Altair pulled him in a hug. Shock colored Desmond’s face when Altair let him go, to which he said, “I’ve always wanted to do that. Now, tell me, are we ready?”

“Let’s do it, Gramps.” At this new nickname, Altair swung his arm over Desmond’s shoulders, and they started walking into the light. Scared, Desmond put his arm around Altair’s shoulders, and they stepped in.

Everything was white, and nothing existed save for Altair’s weight beside him. It made Desmond brave. Then, suddenly, there was a, “He’s HERE!! DESMOND!!” Heaven looked nothing like how he thought it would. There were no harps or clouds, but plenty of angels. As his eyes searched the room, he recognized some familiar faces amongst the strangers.

A woman with bright red hair looked him up and down before nodding her approval, the man with a ponytail gave him a small wave. Maria looked between him and Altair, hands clasped in excitement, and Malik stood by her. He looked different when he wasn’t yelling. His face kinder when he smiled.

Breaking apart from the crowd was someone Desmond would know anywhere. Ezio made his way before him and offered a hand, his mouth opening and closing before he finally spat out, “Hi. I’m Ezio.”

Chuckled, Desmond opened his arms, and Ezio walked right in. “I know who you are, Ezio, and it’s so good to finally meet you.” As they pulled away, Ezio held him at arm’s length and looked him over with tears in his eyes. “I can’t imagine how frustrating it was working through the veil and not knowing the whole story.”

“I’d love to hear it from the source, that is,” Ezio looked sheepish, “if you wouldn’t mind?”

“I’d love that, Grandpa.”

“Hey now, don’t go calling just anyone Gramps.” Altair pouted with a cross of his arms.

“Ignore him,” Maria stood before Desmond now, offered a hand. “He thinks the whole world revolves around him.” With her snark passing, she gazed down at him gently. “You probably don’t know who I am, but I know so much of you, Desmond. It’s truly wonderful having you here.”

“Maria Thorpe.” Demond gave her a hug too. “I know you.”

An argument had broken out between Ezio and Altair behind them, but they ignored them. “Oh,” Maria turned bright red. “You do? Well, I can explain. You see, in the beginning….actually, I’m sure I’ll have time to explain everything later.”

“I’m his Prophet.”

“I’m his Gramps!”

“I’m Connor.” The voice made Desmond turn and look up, all the way up, until he found warm by eyes.

Desmond leapt, “Ratonhnhake:ton!” He offered a handshake, “I just finished a session with you, and there’s so many things I have to ask.”

“A session?” Connor took his hand, and Desmond shook it eagerly.

“Yea! In the Animus. So, what happened to the Homestead? Where did the turkey go? How do you feel about the current state of America?”

“Uhhhh….”

“Sorry,” Desmond laughed, “Got a bit ahead of myself, didn’t I?”

“It’s understandable.” Connor assured him, “But the turkey? He lived a long, happy life, and died of natural causes, I promise you. Here, there’s some people you have to meet!”

Meeting Haytham was strange, but meeting Haytham’s Assassin/pirate father was even stranger. “What do you mean you never got to go through my life?” Edward huffed, angrily fluffing a pillow for Desmond. “These two,” he waved the pillow between Haytham and Connor, Haytham flinched. “Wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me.”

“Maybe it’s because you pissed away the head start the Assassins had worked thousands of years for?” Arno sipped his coffee.

Desmond wheeled to Edward. “That was you?!”

“Aye, get off it, all of you. Don’t go embarrassing me in front of my grandson, you hear?” Edward mumbled.

“But I’m the Gramps!” Altair called from the kitchen.

The day was spent catching up, as well as a family can with eras between them, and Desmond’s mind wandered back to his family in the land of the living. He hoped they were safe and knew he he’d be waiting for them when it was their time.

Until then, he was in wonderful company. What’s the worst that can happen with all the Assassins living under one roof?

[maurianasravenholdt]

I’ve been thinking about this a lot recently. There has always been (understandably) a great deal of focus on the events of Nightwing 93, where Catalina rapes Dick. And that is horrible and traumatic, but I also wanted to explore the events that lead up to that culmination. The horror and sadness that Dick survived before he was violated. Too often, the cumulative traumas of that run are eclipsed by the sexual assault near the end. But trauma isn't a competition, and Dick's strength in pushing forward deserves at least a one-shot.

So here it is - another practice piece. 

Grief has a Gravity

All Dick wanted was home. John Law’s stories, His neighbors’ gentle smiles. The smell of his father’s leather jacket, the faces of his parents forever captured on the “Flying Graysons” poster hung proudly by the front door. But it was all gone. Taken. Razed for the singular crime of being associated with him. Like a perverted king Midas, he was cursed - not with a touch of gold, but one of death and destruction. He was poison 

His eyes blurred with tears behind his mask, and he took a deep, trembling breath. Rain was coming, he smelled it in the air. He could only hope the weather held. Just for a little while. Long enough that he could lie down somewhere in secret and let his aching muscles rest. Sleep would be too much to ask.

Finally, too spent to keep searching for the best place to lay his head, he found a sturdy-enough fire escape landing attached to a largely empty, run-down apartment building. For a moment, he contemplated breaking into an unoccupied unit and taking respite there, but ultimately decided against it. It was enough of a risk sleeping outside. Going in could mean death for the people in this building, too. If Roland Desmond found him. And Blockbuster seemed to be everywhere, these days. Suffocating him.

There were some discarded newspapers trapped in the corner where the bars of the railing met the steel grates of the floor. Carefully, with numb hands, he pressed them flat against the landing. Then, before the wind could sweep them up, he laid down on top, shivering against the poorly guarded metal.

Rest was supposed to do him good. His feet ached and throbbed, his ribs felt like they were split in two, the fissure opening more and more with each breath. The cut on his cheek, a gift from Shrike, stung when he swallowed or worked his jaw. Dried sweat, blood, and dirt caked his face, his suit. Unfamiliar stubble scratched at his skin. He was a mess.

Poisonous, his mind growled viciously.

And really, it was true. Everything in his orbit was turning to rubble. The smell of ash and death clung to his hair, nearly gagging him. He hadn’t felt this weak, this defeated since…

Since he sat beside his parents cracked and broken corpses, wailing with his hands covered in their blood.

There was blood on his hands again, even if it was a different sort. Everyone that died, died because of him. His fault. Poisonous. Even Catalina could see that, and she was a murderer.

Maybe, by proxy, Dick was one too, now.

He couldn’t stop shivering. Whether from the frigid, damp air or the potent self-loathing he couldn’t be sure. It didn’t really matter. He grabbed a spare piece of filthy newspaper and pulled it up to his shoulders. A mockery of a blanket, but he chased the warmth of his breath against it until his body finally gave in to a restless sleep, just as the sun started to poke through the oppressive clouds.

It was nearly nightfall before he jolted awake. An alley cat glared at him angrily, its squashed face dominating his vision. He heaved himself up into a sitting position carefully, giving the animal space when it hissed and spat at the sudden movement. Offended, it gracefully leapt down the fire escape and ran out of sight. There was humor in the situation - something about him stealing a cat’s perch - Dick was sure of that, but he couldn’t find it. Instead, he got to his feet, pulled up the top of his uniform, and took stock of his injuries - a task that should have been completed before he fell asleep. Careless. Reckless. Poisonous.

Separated ribs at least. A deep gash that still bled sluggishly, that he knew he should stitch. His torso was a mottled mess of bruises and cuts. Gingerly, he dug around in the bag Alfred had brought to the apartment memorial. “A few odds and ends”, he had said. There were some clothes, some granola bars, and - blessedly - a host of first aid supplies. He set to work, flinching only a little as he rubbed disinfectant into the gashes littering his skin. Suturing was a mechanical process, and Dick buried dark thoughts.

This doesn’t matter. You don’t matter. You destroy everything you touch. Poisonous.

Indulging that line of thinking was a poison all its own. After all, the job mattered. Stopping Blockbuster mattered. It was the only way to keep the people in his world - the people who were his world - safe. Whatever happened after that…

He kept stitching.

Then there was the matter of his suit. Nearly in tatters. He grabbed another suture kit and pulled the fabric taut, weaving the needle in and out carefully, like Alfred had taught him. Alfred… He had seen Alfred just days ago. Now he was at risk too. Poisoned. Would Desmond take him, too? Or Bruce? How long would it be before everyone he loved…

No. Stop thinking. Keep stitching.

When at last he was done, he redressed himself carefully, making sure to be gentle with his injuries. The suit was damaged, his body was damaged, and his heart had been torn asunder. But he wasn’t helpless. Not yet. There was still time. He could atone for the losses of those at the circus, at his apartment, by stopping this madness his way. The right way. He just had to trap Roland. Implicate him in the destruction. Get a confession out of him, whatever it took. It was the least Dick could do.

He looked out at the darkening sky and took a deep determined breath. He may be bruised and hurting, but he wasn’t broken. Not yet.

It was time to get to work.

[thero0ks]

In Our Next Life <Desmond Miles>

My last fic of 2020. I promised a Desmond Oneshot, and here it is. A little bit of angst to end 2020.

“All he ever did was use you.” Kyle shouted, exasperated his arms waving as if it’d solidify his point. “Why can’t you see that?” His voice grew quiet as he took her in. 

The leather jacket she wore barley staved off the cold. Her arms hugged herself, she looked small and guarded as her hair fell in her face. It created a curtain between her and her boyfriend. She never let him past her walls, and she knew it wasn’t fair to him. He deserved her whole heart, but all she could offer him were whispers of a smile. 

“He left.” Kyle continued, logic spewing from his lips, “he didn’t even bother to say goodbye.” 

“He dis-”

“Yeah, yeah he disappeared.” Kyle said, waving her off. This excuse was nothing new to him. This argument seemed to take place weekly as of late. “Well guess what Y/N. He’s a grown ass man. He can take care of himself.” His hand ran through dirty blonde locks. “I think we’re done.” He concluded, “I can’t live up to a ghost, and you can’t let go.” 

Y/N gnawed at her lip as she listened. Guilt washed over her. She had to be the worst girlfriend that had ever existed. It wasn’t fair to Kyle to let him live in the shadow of the man she couldn’t let go. For the first time she started to think Kyle’s words had merit. Desmond had been gone for five months. Most likely he thought disappearing would be easier than ending things. Hope caressed her telling her he would never. Such a damning thing hope was. “I’m sorry Kyle.” She said softly, her (e/c) eyes locked with his. He could see the tear tracks down her cheeks. “You deserve someone who can give you their heart.” 

*

**

Desmond crouched on the rooftops watching the scene unfold. Guilt flooded him. He had been taken, but he never tried contacting her once he was free. If Abstergo knew he loved her they’d go after her, and he couldn’t risk her safety. He hadn’t planned on eavesdropping tonight. It was mere coincidence he’d happened to be running across rooftops when he saw her. 

“Dammit, (Y/N).” He muttered. “Move on, go after him,” but he knew she wouldn’t. 

There was no one who knew her better. He wasn’t surprised she had hung on these past five months. Loyalty was one of her strongest traits, the only thing stronger than her loyalty was her stubbornness. Which he’d bared witness to tonight. She was too stubborn to let him go, even if it meant she would wind up miserable and alone.

The (petite/curvy/lean) woman watched another ex walk away. It wasn’t until he was out of sight did she turn on her heel and make her way home. She shoved her hands in her pocket, and kicked a few rocks for good measure. Desmond followed along in the rooftop shadows. The thought of her walking home alone at night didn’t sit well with him. 

He watched her fish her keys out of her pocket. She hadn’t moved out of their tiny apartment, and he was sure if he checked the parking lot he’d find his motorcycle. It was an impulsive decision entering her apartment through one of her windows. Her scent filled him, and his body relaxed. It felt like home. He ran his hand down the row of hoodies neatly hung in the closet. 

“Desmond, where are you? You’re way off course.” Rebecca’s voice came over his Bluetooth ear piece.

“I’m just making a quick detour.” He responded back, before muting the device. He left the small box on the dresser as his feet carried him into the living room. 

Amber eyes flickered over the wall lined with books, Y/N had apparently picked up a reading habit since he disappeared. A smile grew as he noticed the gaming consoles lining her entertainment center. She hadn’t changed a bit. 

The door swung open revealing the only woman Desmond had ever truly loved. She flicked on the light, and his breath caught in his throat seeing her face up close again. He had a few seconds to take her in before her eyes flickering up at him. 

Her jaw went slack, and her eyes went wide. “Desmond?” Her voice came out as a whisper. 

“Hey Y/N.” He said tentatively, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“I thought…” Her voice trailed off as her feet carried her closer to him. 

Fingertips reached out to place feather light touches across his stubble. She pulled him into her embrace, and he could feel tears wet his neck. “You’re alive.” 

He wrapped his arms around her. He’d longed for her touch for so long, and it didn't matter how many Animus’ he climbed in, or how many ancestor’s lives he relieved. No one’s touch could compare to her’s. “I wanted to come earlier, but it wasn’t safe.” He murmured against her skin. “It still isn’t safe.” He added, reality crashing through him. 

He smoothed her hair savoring her touch. Desmond had put to sleep all of his regrets when he decided to become an assassin. He didn’t regret his decision until he touched her skin again. This would be the only regret that would haunt him for the rest of his life. “You need to forget about me.” 

Hollow words echoed inside her. Pain shot through her heart, and she felt as though she’d strayed into an old memory. Those words sounded so familiar, and the pain had echoed across many lifetimes. “You don’t mean that.” Her words came out as a plea. ‘Please don’t mean that’ is what she wanted to say, because some part of her knew he meant every single word. 

“I’m not who you thought I was.” He took a step back, keeping her at arm's length. His touch had gone cold, and Y/N could feel the chasm grow between the two. She was desperate to fly across, and he was slowly leaving her behind. 

“Sell my motorcycle, and take yourself to Paris, or Rome.” He continued, seeing (e/c) eyes glaze over with unshed tears. Hurt and confusion swirled in her eyes, and it felt like a knife to his heart. “Move on, get married, have kids. You’re going to be the best mother.” 

Desmond had hoped that would be their future. That was before Abstergo had abducted him, and he’d finally accepted his fate as an assassin. “I wanted those things with you.” Her voice was small.

“Maybe in another life.” Desmond whispered, pressing his lips to hers. In the blink of an eye he was pulling his hood up, and disappearing out her bedroom window. Y/N followed him to the window, but he’d disappeared into the black night. She sunk to her knees, tears falling freely down her cheeks. 

She’d had her heart shattered twice within the span of a couple hours. The finality of Desmond’s visit was sinking in. The way she had pictured their reunion was filled with joy and love, but what she got was a lifelong heart break instead. The apartment felt empty. Desmond was gone, and he wasn’t coming back. Kyle’s words echoed in her head, “all he ever did was use you.” 

Maybe he was right. Perhaps Desmond never really loved her. If he did he never would have left her, right? He said it wasn’t safe for them to be together. Did she even know who Desmond Miles was? She shook her head to clear her thoughts. Pulling herself up, she shut the window. Something caught her eye. She approached her dresser to pick up the small black velvet box. Her breath caught in her throat as she opened it to reveal an engagement ring. 

Desmond loved her. All of her doubts were laid to rest. The pain of what would never be weighed on her as she sat on the edge of her bed clutching the ring.

*

**

*

Desmond sat on the edge of the rooftop wiping his eyes. It’d taken everything inside him to walk away. It was for her safety that he left her. His heart ached at what he lost. He’d hoped Y/N would move on, even if he wouldn’t. He’d meant it when he told her he hoped they’d meet in the next life. 

He wanted the happy ending with her, but it wasn’t in the cards for them. Maybe that’s why he left the ring. She needed to know how he felt. He’d carried that thing around for seven months. Looking for the right time to pop the question, but it never came. Now it never would. 

He let his mind drift off into a daydream he’d conjured quite often when he was at Abstergo. Arms wrapped around Y/N as they sat on the patio, watching their kids play. 

The beeping of his Bluetooth pulled him back to reality. “Desmond, you okay?” 

“Yeah Rebecca. I’m on my way.” He got to his feet, allowing himself one last look back at her window. “I’ll find you in our next life. I promise.”

_____

Tag List:

@pink-polarfox @marshmallow--3 @jstar1992 

[twistedcharismaaa]

Lost & Found Pt 4

Summary: You’re living a suffocating life and you finally find breath in Masego.

Author’s Note: Hi guyssss! I’m finally back with another chapter. I really struggled piecing this chapter together so I really hope you guys enjoy! Leave a comment for ya girl! You know I live for the commentary, I love you guys so much! Enjoy!

Micah’s eyes left yours for a brief moment. He inhaled and leaned his head back on the wall and readjusted his shades on his face. He watched his calculated chaos unfold in the elevator which gave him much delight. 

“You know I told you my name…” he said while raising a finger and wagging it dramatically.

“You even told me your boyfriend’s name, but you never told me yours.” he continued.

You slowly pulled off your rubber yellow cleaning gloves one by one and tossed them on the supply cart. You crossed your arms and leaned back on the wall behind you letting your eyes trail the many lit elevator buttons. 

“Charisma,” you answered with a subtle smirk on your face. 

“Charisma? You know I’m full of that,” he said while placing his right hand on his chest proudly.

Again, you found yourself laughing. You shook your head and rolled your eyes towards the ceiling before eyeing him once more with a half-smirk.

“That I can clearly see,” you answered.

“You know what I want to see right now?” he quizzed while pulling off his black shades and stuffing them in the pouch of his all-black hoodie.

“Indulge me,” you responded completely intrigued. 

“Me and you having lunch,” he said while waving his hands in the air theatrically as if he was actually visualizing it.  

“So, are you hungry, lady?” he asked with a raised brow.

You inhaled silently and eyed the elevator for a short moment. Letting your eyes wander from wall to wall. Finally, you fixated on a painting that rested on the wall behind him. You’ve seen this painting a thousand times before but today, for whatever reason, it caught your attention. You admired its simplicity which made it even more elegant. You visually found pleasure in the contrasting colors of blue and red. The uneven brushstrokes seemed to tell a story that mirrored yours. It was a painting of a cup that was half-full. Or was it half-empty? Looking past Micah you spoke lowly.

“If I told you a secret, would you keep it?” you asked still eyeing the painting.

“Absolutely,” he responded. 

“This is the most I’ve laughed in a while,” you admitted while swallowing slowly. Now locking eyes with him, you continued to lean on the wall behind you for support. You bit down on your bottom lip nervously and waited for his response.

“And why is that?” he questioned.

“Life hasn’t been so kind to me lately. I’m figuring things out - figuring me out actually. So I don’t know if I’m the perfect candidate to have lunch with.” you said while changing positions. This time, you shifted your weight off of the wall’s surface and placed both hands on the supply cart. You watched the elevator doors close and open. The classical music playing in the background seemed to intensify. Or maybe this moment was intensifying?

“I have a secret too since we’re sharing,” he admitted. You enjoyed his speaking voice. It oozed calmness and embodied serenity. 

“I saw you last night at the club. You looked beautiful by the way. While I was on stage, all I wanted to do was dive in and save you. I would take you away if you’d let me. Lunch is just the first step.” he said while eyeing your frame subtly.

Your heartbeat quickened as your palms grew sweaty. He watched you like you were the only thing that mattered. His intense, penetrating eyes piercing right through made you weak. It scared you but intrigued you.

“You’re famous. You whisk away every girl that you find pretty?” you quizzed trying to make sense of it all. Just last night, you had a man that refused to touch you. Just hours ago, you were neglected in every way that you could think of. And now, you have a caramel kissed man standing in front of you treating as if you were the purest diamond. As if you were rare, unique, and completely hard to find. 

You watched a smile dance across his full lips. He shook his head and licked his lips before answering.

“I hate being famous actually. For many different reasons that I, unfortunately, don’t have enough time to tell you. We’re running out time lady.” he said while watching the elevator buttons. “It’s hard finding authenticity in people. It’s hard finding real love, real emotion, real music - I can literally go on and on. Everyone hides behind facades and masks. You’re different. You’ve always been you it’s just no one was insightful enough to pay attention.” he continued.

You finally reached your destined floor. The doors opened and you felt your heart sink. You didn’t want him to go. 

“Thank you for making me smile today,” you said softly.

“Best believe, it was my pleasure. See you around Charisma,” he responded while holding the elevator door open for you. You reluctantly exited the elevator and waved him goodbye.

--------

After a tedious day of working hard, you decided to attend your appointment with Tiffany, your trusted therapist. After the loss of the baby, you’ve been seeing a Tiffany inconsistently. By nature, you were instinctively self-reliant due to your own insecurities and the insecurities forced on you by others. Desmonde thought it was a waste of money and your friends who you barely speak to now had their own speculations. You viewed Tiffany as a human diary, holding your precious secrets - holding your darkest memories. There were times where you made progress and had these astounding revelations ready to make leaps and bounds in life and unfortunately, there were times you left feeling the absolute same. Consistently, inconsistent with your mental health, with your emotions, with your goals, and with your dreams. Maybe you cared too much? Too little? Maybe you were broken beyond repair? You grew up in a single-parent household where your mother showered you in the healthiest love and attention. Every time you needed her she was there. Constantly, going over and beyond for you - with you. But with her passing at the tender age of 20, it seemed as if life came at you like a raging storm. Quickly, devouring you piece by piece and brick by brick. At 21, you dropped out of college. Working like a dog and living check to check. At 21, you met Desmonde and fell for him and by 22 you were pregnant. Now at the new fresh age of 23, you were alone again.

Tiffany opened her office door and greeted you with the brightest smile. She wore a sky blue buttoned blouse and grey slacks. She wore her hair down making her amber highlights easy to notice. You greeted her with a smile and a warm hello before entering her office. Casually taking a seat, you noticed that she redecorated. Had it been that long since you’ve been here?

“How are you feeling today?” she asked while opening her mustard yellow notepad.

“Confused,” you said while tugging at the sleeve of your dark red hoodie.

“Hmmm. Why is that? Oh, and happy belated before I forget,” she quizzed attentively.

“Thank you. I actually broke up with Desmonde on my birthday. I don’t mean to make it as aggressive as it sounds. I just didn’t know how else to um say that.” you admitted still fidgeting with your sleeve.

“What brought this on?” she asked now actively scribbling in her notepad.

“At this point, I’m convinced it was inevitable,” you answered now making direct eye contact.

“How so?”

“He didn’t touch me, nurture me, educate me, push me - He didn’t do a lot of things. My cup was always half empty with him.”

“You’ve been together for quite some time, right? So why did you stay? If he didn’t water you or stimulate you? Why give him so much of your time?”

“I stayed because I thought he was what I deserved,” you admitted.

“Why do you think you deserve to be wilted and neglected?” she questioned.

“That’s a question I keep asking myself honestly,” you responded.

“It sounds like this break up with Desmonde brought self-awareness to you,” she suggested.

“Can I ask you something?” you quizzed.

“Of course,” she answered smiling meekly.

“I’m naturally closed off. But today, I had the deepest conversation with a stranger. What does that mean?”

“What did you talk about?”

“I admitted to him that I was practically unhappy,” you said while finally resting your busy hand. No longer messing with your sleeve.

“That’s very interesting. And his response was?”

“His response was that he would rescue me if I’d let him. And the crazy thing is I believed him,” you said feeling a smile grace your lips.

“This stranger sounds like quite the charmer,” she said smirking and taking more notes casually.

“His name is Micah. He’s a guest at the hotel,” you admitted.

“So not a stranger then?” she quizzed.

“ An acquaintance I suppose?” you replied.

“So, you’re questioning why you’re doing something that’s typically out of your guarded character? Yes?”

“Yes,” you stated.

“Maybe subconsciously you want something different. Different responses attract different reactions. You put out a different response because internally you’re longing to break routine. After feeling half-empty for so long, it’s only normal to crave to feel full.”

“He asked me to lunch. I declined at first of course. But now, I’m reconsidering because of note he left me while I was cleaning his room.”

“What did it say?” she asked completely enticed.

“I-I have it in my pocket. I’ll read it to you.” you stuttered.

Slowly pulling the note from your pocket, you cleared your voice and read it aloud. 

“Listening to music doing nothing but thinking of you. Thinking of your body and how it was handcrafted by God. Each curve sexier than the last. My mind keeps reminiscing about your sweet smile and how it fiercely ignites me while softly illuminating my soul. Those soft plump lips begging to be kissed on. I never have seen a woman so radiant. I’ve never seen eyes so captivating and so pure. I continuously watch you - study you in hopes that I can understand your beautiful complexity. I can see the brokenness. I know we barely know each other, but everything happens for a reason. I hope that you’ll let me kiss you in every area that he’s hurt you. But first, let me be a friend. - Micah”

Before you knew it, tears streamed down your cheeks connecting down to your chin. 

“Why are you crying Charisma?” Tiffany inquired.

“I haven’t had a friend in a very long time,” you answered honestly.

“There is no perfect way to heal. Healing comes in many different forms. It can come through isolation, art, family, new scenery, and friends. Charisma, maybe it’s time for a friend.”

You nodded in acceptance and quietly thought to yourself about the painting from earlier. Cup half-empty or cup half-full? It’s all open to interpretation. All you knew is that you’re ready to be full. To be whole. 

Interrupting your thoughts, Tifanny posed a question.

“So what do you say Charisma?”

“I say, it’s a date. I need a friend more than I need anything else right now. It’s a date.” you answered.

------------

Part 3 Part 5

@l-auteuse​ @ghostfacekill-monger​ @thickemadame​ @chaneajoyyy​ @soulfood-fics​ @nizzle-mo​ @jamielennkeeler​ @ljstraightnochaser​ @pineappear​ @lostennyc​ @miss-nneka​ @thadelightfulone​ @qweentbh​   @big-brows-bigger-dreams​ @rosemilage​ @sarcastic-sunshines​ @mygirlrenee​ @keiva1000​ @justanothernerdgirl​ @cyntgefel01​ @libbylivliv​ @theboldlady​ @geriixox​ @seffyn​ @errin261​ @migosis​ @cocogodess15​ @scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade @kemkem101 @peacefuldesiress @babbyaangel @mooon-berry @ju5tp34chy

[friendlylocalwhumper]

colby | colby released | desmond and kip | desmond and kip released | sonia

“Do you think she’s in pain?”

“Uhhh… I don’t know. She hasn’t, like, yelled, or anything.”

Lux frowns as he gets far enough into the safehouse to make out what the kids are saying. He steps into a living room stuffed with mismatched couches. There are two teens hovering by a woman who’s shoved herself into the corner, knees drawn up to her chest, arms over her head.

“She’s scared,” Lux murmurs, expression drawn with concern, and the kids startle, staring at him with wide eyes. “I’m with the Resistance, it’s okay. You guys need to back away from her, though, you’re making her feel trapped.”

“She’s hurt, we wanted to help. She won’t talk to us, though. We tried to pull her out, fix her up. She started hitting us.”

At one of them dabbing at their split lip with their sleeve, the listening warlock nods. “Yeah, well that happens when you grab someone who’s scared, huh? Give me some space, guys. I’ll try to help her. You two find another place to crash, this one might be burned.”

The kids scatter at his advice. Lux allows himself a moment to look over the room, to remember what it’s like to cower in a place like this. One that’s safer than hiding out on the street, but rundown and full of survivors who watch for weaknesses, who are just as likely to mock you as help you. This girl cowering in the corner seems like she’s had a bad scare and she can’t muster up the energy to get herself anyplace safer.

“I’m gonna walk closer to you. Gonna sit on the floor. I won’t touch you.” Once the room falls silent again, he starts moving, carefully, predictably. Once he’s within arm’s reach of her, he sits on the floor, legs crossed, hands in his lap.

“Hey,” He whispers, and she flinches, shoulders scrunched up to her ears.

Her eyes are open, but she’s not looking in his direction. Anyone this scared would watch the nearest threat.

“Can you see?” His voice is as soft and unobtrusive as it can get, the angle of his posture rounded at the corners to project calm, worry.

She shakes her head. Big hoop earrings sway.

“Can you tell me if you’re hurt?”

She hesitates, one arm coming slowly from over her head to be tucked between her thighs and her front, out of his immediate reach. Lux watches, notes the movement, the timing of her wince. Her wrist is hurt.

The witch shakes her head.

“You can’t tell me? Or you’re not hurt?”

Oddly pale, cloudy eyes blink. They’re easier to see now that her face is only partly hidden. Her breath rasps out, lips forming words. She bites her trembling bottom lip, after a second, like she wasn’t totally sure that no sound would come out, and she’s desperately upset to find that it didn’t.

Sadness knots up Lux’s stomach. “Okay. I understand. Um, sorry if this is stupid to say. But I’m a warlock. You’re in a safehouse, the one on Ruston Lane. There’s, um, one warlock and two witches here, right now, I think. And it’s daytime, like, three o’clock.”

Her brows crease, head tipping to the side. He can’t tell if she’s confused by the offered information, or by the fact that he shared it.

“Sorry, just. Giving you some context. I don’t know if you’ve always been blind, and you’re used to it, or if… I don’t know. You seem really scared right now. Overwhelmed. I thought it might have to do with not knowing what’s going on.”

A tense moment passes, where she listens for more, and he waits for her reaction. Finally, she nods.

“My name’s Lux. And I… I think I know what happened to you. There’ve been… people, like us, getting hurt. Were you… were you hurt?”

A soft, whispy sound escapes her. It’s like trying to talk to a ghost, Lux thinks - hard to reach, hard to understand. A shell of a person who was once living. The sad quiet sound is followed by a nod. Yes, she was hurt.

Lux dips his head down, breaking her wary, off-center eye contact. “I was too. Just, um - just a long time ago. Same guy, though. So I know… I know how scary it was. And he… he took your sight, huh?”

Glancing up, he catches her nod.

“And your voice? That’s why you can’t talk?”

Another nod, emotion etched into her face.

“I might be able to help with that. Which one do you want me to try to fix, first? Whichever one would make you feel less trapped.”

Pale, foggy eyes widen, and she taps by her temple to indicate them - but then she makes a jagged wheezing sound, waves her hands, taps at her throat. Anxiety only builds in the air around her as she makes an uncertain choked sound, hand hovering by her face, as she tries to decide.

Lux frowns. “Woah, hey, it’s okay. I know you want both back. I’m gonna work on it. Be as fast as I can. I know it feels important to be able to talk, to say what you need and tell people to back off, but maybe your sight is more important? Just so you can see where you are, and who’s close, and know what’s - know if anything’s coming. That’s what I would pick, anyway.”

The witch shoves herself harder into the corner, fingers clawed in frustration, knuckles pressed to her cheek as she hesitates.

She’s too vulnerable, and Lux is an unknown, an invisible threat looming over her. He needs to level the playing field before she’ll let his hands or magic come close.

Lux thinks about himself, his weak points. Things she can exploit. Things he can offer to her, to use against him, if she needs to.

“I-I, uh, I settle down when I get hit,” He admits, hushed and open. “He, he made me like that. So if… if I scare you, just throw a punch. I’m close enough that you’ll hit me. And when you do, I’ll - be sorry, and back off, and be scared. I’m really easy to scare. Okay? Just throw a punch, don’t even have to try to knock me out or shove me away. One hit and I’ll come undone. Does it help, to know that?”

Suspicion crinkles her expression. It must be hard to believe, that he’s so easy to disarm. She tenses, angles her head to listen closer, and he’s careful not to move, not to seem threatening. Her hand comes down from her cheek, slowly, furling up with stress, she’s digging her short nails into her palm in anxiety, he thinks -

The punch comes quick, too quick to react to before it lands. Lux’s head snaps to the side with the force of it, and he falls back from where he sat on his heels, arms flying out to catch himself. He scrambles back, sliding against the wall, breaths coming harsh and uneven.

The witch’s weight is leaning forward, now, hands on the ground, as she listens. She makes some sudden, small movement like she’s going to get up, and Lux whimpers, letting himself fall to the floor in favor of covering his head with his hands.

He should’ve seen that coming, he thinks. Of course she already felt scared enough to lash out with the first chance he gave her. She had to bring him down to her level. It’s not her fault. It’s okay.

He can’t stop cowering, though. He just can’t. Memories flash through his mind of his dad, Ant, the Hunter. Mind-controlled friends, warlocks in safehouses that beat him down so he wouldn’t be a threat. He can’t seem to get out of the deep sinkhole that is remembering the ache of his cheek, the anxiety that comes after being hit. Trying to figure out how he could have been better, and how he might be hurt next.

Lux flinches and curls up tighter when a hand is laid on his arm. It slides up to his shoulder, patting twice, then follows his arm down to his hand to pull it away from his face.

Above him, the witch hovers, trying to pull him back up.

“O-oh,” Gasps Lux, letting her tug on his arm until he’s sitting up against the wall. “Sorry. I - I meant it, when I said, s-said it makes me… scared.”

The witch nods. She needed that, he guesses. Needed a win. She doesn’t seem amused by his coming undone, at least.

“Can I try to help, now? With your eyes?”

She shakes her head, and his heart sinks… but she finds his hand, again, by patting across him, and brings it up to her throat.

“Oh. Your voice first?”

A nod, and a frown when he pulls his hand out of hers.

“Okay. I’ll work on it. Just - I’m not, I don’t wanna touch your throat, okay? I don’t - I know it’s scary to get grabbed, like that. I can do it w-without touching.”

Thick brows arch with confusion at that, but she lets him talk himself through the spell he’s going to try, and raise his hands to her throat to seep magic in there, and fail, and try again. Her head jerks to the side, a few times, like she hears something behind her, but they’re alone. Each time, Lux ends the magic and promises he’ll tell her if someone comes in.

Finally, after cobbling together some experimental spells, Lux unlocks something. The little, nasty spell keeping her throat from doing something important that puts sound behind words. The witch gasps with volume now, choking out a startled laugh.

“Oh! Hnn. F-fuck. That’s - better. Hah. God. Okay. Thanks, guy.”

“Lux,” He offers, smiling at her relief. “That’s better?”

“Ye-, yeah. Never heard that spell before. You make it up?”

“Uh, I did, yeah. Just mixed together the one for fixing, like, things that fell apart, and the one-”

“Right. Cool. Well I’m sorry for hitting you. You got scared, huh?”

Shame drags Lux’s shoulders down. He guesses that she can’t know it hurts him if she can’t see how he reacts. And besides, magic users don’t soften up and get gentle just because someone’s feelings are hurt. “I get… get scared, a lot. I was with him f-for a year.”

Her expression drops in an instant, voice failing her. Finally, she rasps out a dim, “Oh.”

“B-but, it’s okay though. I’m okay now. ‘Cept when I get hit. Um, can I ask your name?”

Those hoop earings sway again as she nods. Lux wonders, idly, why the Hunter let her keep those in. Seems like they’d get torn out or something, with everything he does. Maybe he didn’t want to erase who she is. Maybe he’s letting them keep things like that, little things, that make it hurt after they’ve changed. Old pieces of their identity no longer fitting, now that they’re different, a little broken.

Those bold earrings still suit her, though, Lux thinks. She’s still tough.

“Sonia,” She answers.

“Nice to meet you, Sonia. Mind if I work on your sight, now? And - you won’t hit me, if I can’t do it, right?”

A small, bitter smile pulls at her lips. “I won’t hit you. Just… fix it fast? I can’t stand it.”

Lux nods, hands coming up to hover by those unnaturally grey eyes. “I’ll try. I really will. He, um… I’m gonna fix as much of this as I can. Ev-verything he’s doing. He doesn’t get to mess people up like - like this. ‘m gonna try.”