#and in turn feeding your own self-doubt and believing that getting involved will only hurt more people etcetc

[toboldlymuppet]

gripped by fear

my piece for dark waters, an op angst zine

#i love my boy hes so brave and beautiful #usopp #one piece #op fanart #skeletons #horror #i guess? #something about not wanting to be left behind but also fearing your own inability to do something about it #and in turn feeding your own self-doubt and believing that getting involved will only hurt more people etcetc #water 7 enies lobby arc girlies where you at

[superhero--imagines]

Etsy Store Here l Ko-Fi l Commission Info

Part 1 Here! / Part 2 Here!/ Playlist Here!

* Alright so here are the facts as you know them

* Gojo’s a goddamn player and a homewrecker

* The boy probably has half of Tokyo after him

* Not that you can blame them, that pretty face had you fooled at first too

* The second fact, it that for whatever reason, Gojo Satoru has chosen to play house with a future hopeful sorcerer named Megumi Fushiguro

* Which, through forces outside your control, you have become involved with as well

* And the last fact, was that as soon as this no longer interested him or benefited him in any way, Gojo Satoru would abandon the situation entirely and act like it never happened

* So-

* “(Y/N/N), you look nice today, did you do something new with your hair?” Gojo sings

* - pray tell, why is the school prince is currently sitting on top of your desk, looking at you with those heart eyes

* “Oi what do you think you’re doing?” You ask, a vein threatening to pop on your forehead

* “I’m flirting with you~” he sings, only leaning closer with that all-too-pleased smile

* “I’m pretty sure this is bullying” you reply

* Ever since you’ve started pseudo-parenting Megumi and Tsumiki, Gojo’s been doing crap like this,

* Sometimes he tries to feed you at lunch,

* “Open wide (Y/N/N)~” He’ll sing as he holds out a piece of sushi towards you on some chopsticks

* Only for Megumi to eat it instead

* “Why do you look so sad papa, I thought you said I was your pride and joy”

* other times he’s holding doors open for you

* “Ah here let me-“

* You watch as he walks across from you and opens the door to a random void shrine

* You look at him before sighing and opening your own door to the library

* The other day you mentioned how you didn’t get to try the limited edition Sakura Pepsi and came back to your dorm with a bottle on your desk

* Which would be cute- if the bottle wasn’t half-empty with a note that he’d that said

* “Sorry, I got thirsty on the way back”

* Seriously he’s the worst- and yet,

* You turned away from Megumi and Gojo bickering, hoping he didn’t notice how flustered you were,

* you hid your laugh behind your hand as Gojo jogs to catch up with you, saying he was just trying to predict your needs-

* And you held the half-full bottle of Sakura Pepsi to your chest, keeping it on your window sill

* Because you love him-

* Even though you know he’s just doing all these things to entertain himself instead of out of genuine affection

* Even though these feeling will do nothing but hurt you

* You still love him

* He makes your life feel exciting and fun

* And more than that, underneath that moronic playboy exterior, is a gentle, lonely heart

* A heart that will run away as soon as it knows how you feel about it

* So you mask your budding feelings as best as you can

* Because the only thing you imagine is more painful than knowing your feelings won’t be returned-

* Is not having Gojo Satoru in your life at all

* So you do your best to pretend like nothing has changed

* You act just as indifferent as you always have-

* “Here-“ you push your dessert in Gojo’s direction. “You like sweets right?”

* His smile is so radiant you almost have to shield your eyes

* Well, mostly indifferent anyway

* Not that the self-absorbed moronic prince has seemed to notice anyway

* Too busy focusing on the scrumptious piece of cake in front of him

* Still Gojo isn’t one to be underestimated, he looks to you with a twinkle in his eyes

* “Let’s share it!”

* So far he’s tried twice to have an indirect kiss with you, and he’s missed twice

* He even threw away those chopsticks when Megumi ate that piece of sushi in frustration

* But you know what they say, third times the charm

* You look at Gojo with a raised eyebrow, gaze flicking between the cake and his face

* What, did he imbue some cursed energy so it would explode when you tried to take a bite

* “No thanks”

* Cue Gojo crying as he eats his cake

* He’s really been doing his best lately to earnestly pursue you

* But for some reason, you just don’t get it

* “I like you,” Gojo says as you’re walking side by side on your way back to the dorm after visiting Megumi

* You look back at him, and Gojo feels a blush start to fan across his face

* He finally did it! He finally confessed to you

* And his heart is drumming away in his chest

* You don’t seem to understand the monumental significance of what just occurred because what your mind heard was

* “I {really} like {teasing} you”

* You sigh, your heart skipped a beat, for a second you almost got your hopes up

* There’s no way lady killer Gojo Satoru would ever pick you to be one of his lovers, and if he did it would just be so you could be apart of his personal harem

* “Ok”

* And then you turn around and walk away

* Gojo can’t help but feel like this is retribution for all the times one of his romantic partners has said ��I love you’

* And he responded with:

* “Why would you do that to yourself?”

* Or

* “Cool”

* At first he thinks it’s a straight-up rejection, but he figures out pretty fast that you just didn’t get it when you keep acting the same as you always have around him

* But don’t get it wrong babe, none of this deters Gojo in the slightest

* “Why are you looking at me like that?” You ask

* You’re both in the library, but only one of you is actually studying

* Gojo’s been staring at you with an oddly fixated gaze

* Honestly it’s got you feeling an uncomfortable heat spreading from your face to your neck

* “I’m not giving up you know”

* Giving up on what?!?

* What’s going on right now!!?

* But Gojo doesn’t offer any more insight choosing instead to finally bother reading the book in his hands

* What a weird guy

* You look down to your own book

* You feel the heat linger on your face and neck

* It’s because he’s always saying crap like that, that you’ve caught feelings for him

* Well whatever, everything fades right? Eventually, Gojo will probably lose interest in you-

* He’s part of a clan do you imagine they’ll find a nice girl from a respectable family for him to marry

* They’ll probably have a few kids who’ll be next in line to succeed him

* And by then he’ll be in such a prominent position that you’ll never see him again

* He’ll just be a memory

* Some boy you had a youthful unrequited love with

* The thought makes your heart clench but-

* “It’s for the best,” you tell yourself

* You’re going in completely opposite directions in life, you couldn’t possibly home for anything more than what you have

* After all your luck probably ran out the second you saw his face

* The most beautiful man you’ll ever see

* “I bet he would be one of those handsome grandpas when he gets older” you snort

* The kind that charms and flirts with young men and women just because he knows the effect he has on them.

* You still can’t believe you fell in love with someone like that

* “What a pain” you mumble to yourself, falling back on your bed

* You feel uncertain, afraid of the future even.

* Maybe a snack will help

* It’s the middle of the night, way past the time you were supposed to go to bed when you see him in the kitchen

* Great the last person you wanted to run into

* He’s just standing there in front of the fridge with the door open

* He hasn’t even turned around to say hi or anything

* “Oi Baka prince if you leave the door open like that every-“

* You stop mid-word, you only need one look at his face to know something is wrong

* It’s not all that uncommon for him to do something like this-

* See the thing is, Gojo knows he’s strong enough that he will get to choose when he dies- he’s not bound by the same pain the other sorcerers are, but-

* Well, he’s still going to die

* No matter how much he thinks he’s like god, no matter how powerful he is,

* He’s still going to die

* And growing up with the power he’s had and the mindset that he’s the strongest

* The realization can be pretty crippling

* He so afraid of the uncertainty that brings that most times he can’t move

* The worst part is it’s never when he’s actively thinking about death, or even when he’s on the job

* It’s always at times like this when he’s just woken up and is oddly hungry and he’ll remember

* “Oh, I’m going to die aren’t I?”

* And then it’s like he’s frozen solid

* What is it he usually tells the victims that enter his domain?

* “Funny how when you can do everything, you find you can’t do anything”

* Usually he manages to unfreeze after some unspecified amount of time, getting through it on his own

* But this time, when he finally escapes from the domain of his inner mind he’s covered in a layer of sweat just like always-

* But he’s not sure why he sprawled across the floor

* Not until his head shifts a little, only to see your face looming over him

* Omgomgomgomgomgomgomgomg

* He’s resting his head in your lap!!!

* Honestly this has been a fantasy of his for a while, to have his head in your lap while looking at the cherry blossoms, and you feed him chocolates and a gentle wind caresses your face

* BUT NOT LIKE THIS

* “Feeling better?” You ask

* Gojo thinks he might combust, he moves to sit up but winces

* He’s got the worst headache, these little episodes of his do typically end with a migraine

* Your hand feels nice and cold as it rests against his forehead

* “Rest a little longer, we’re not in any hurry”

* Aaaaand now he’s screaming on the inside again

* “Sorry about this” he mumbles, and you can’t help but smile

* It’s oddly endearing to see a shy Gojo Satoru

* “I bet your lovers would kill me if they saw knew you were showing me such a cute side” you’re half-joking when you say it, but you’re also half-serious

* It gives your Ego a little boost to know you’ve seen a side of him that most of his lovers probably haven’t

* You doubt the mighty Gojo Satoru ever allows himself to be this vulnerable, not even while he’s in the throes of passion

* So that same earnest look on his face startles you

* “I don’t have any other lovers”

* You snort

* “Sure, and I definitely didn’t steal Geto’s pudding that he was saving”

* “I’m being serious”

* Gojo sighs, here he is feeling awfully vulnerable and you still seem denser than a rock

* Do you think he would let anyone other than you see him like this

* “When are you going to realize that if it’s not you then it’s just no good?”

* Your heart is drumming in your ears, and you wonder if he can hear it

* Your mind is telling you to pull back, that this is way too good to be true, that this will only hurt you,

* You should get away while you still have a chance

* But instead something in you persists and you say:

* “Why do you think that is”

* Gojo’s hand reaches up, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger, those clear blue eyes looking straight into yours

* Your breath stutters in your chest

* You always have been weak for those eyes

* His pink lips curl up into a smile

* “Because I love you”

* And before you know what you’re doing your bending down, pressing your lips against his

* “I love you too”

Bonus:

* “You can see through it right?” You ask

* Gojo fidgets with the blindfold, honestly he was hoping for a much kinkier reason than replacing his scuffed sunglasses when you gave him the blindfold

* “It’s a little darker, but that’s not a bad thing.”

* His hair is out of his face too which is nice

* But-

* “What’s with the sudden gift?”

* It’s not exactly out of character for you to get the people you care about something, but this seems a little outside of your usual MO

* “I just felt like it” You mumble

* Now that his eyes are covered up you think he might attract a little less attention, and all his former flings probably won’t be able to recognize him

* Your eyes drift to his uniform, even in the gross pantsuit you can still tell he’s got a pretty nice body,

* But you’ll have to adjust

* Gojo sees right through your nonchalant answer, smiling that wolfish grin

* “Aw was my sweetie scared I was going to leave them?” He coos, moving ever so close

* You only turn away your face

* Gojo only grins wider

* “Honey~ you should know by now if it’s not you then I’m not interested” he sings in your ear

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen gojo #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru headcanon #gojo satoru reader insert #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen headcanon #jujutsu kaisen x reader #superhero--imagines

[cosmicjoke]

Alright, up through chapters 111 and 112 of SnK!

First, I just have to say a few things about Eren here and what a massive dick he was to Armin and Mikasa.  It’s hard as hell not to be pissed at Eren here, even knowing that he was trying to push his two best friends away in an attempt to keep them out of harm, and part of that is because, given what Eren later confesses to Armin, about not knowing what he was doing during this scene, I don’t think the way he treats them here IS entirely to protect them.  Armin says after the whole confrontation that Eren’s the one who’s a slave, specifically he says “You’re a slave too, and your master’s a worthless bastard.”  Eren has the gall to get offended by this, after he just spent the last however many minutes telling Armin and Mikasa both that they’re pathetic slaves with no will of their own.  But the important part here is what Armin says.  He’s referring, I think, to all of Eren’s worst traits as a human being.  He’s telling Eren that he’s let himself become a slave to the worst parts of his personality, the parts that want to hurt others, that finds gratification in hurting others.  That he’s letting himself be dictated by those ugliest, cruelest parts of himself.  I think part of Eren’s tirade against Armin and Mikasa was based very much in his honest feelings, those feelings of anger and hatred towards his best friends being born out of his own insecurity about himself.  He tells Armin that his constant attempts to “talk” are pathetic and worthless, and that Mikasa is only strong because of experiments conducted on the Ackerman bloodline.  Essentially, Eren is trying his very best here to strip away both Armin’s and Mikasa’s own merit, and cast their strengths and abilities in a negative light, treating those strengths as either weaknesses or as something unearned, some sort of freak accident of birth.  Eren goes particularly hard after Mikasa, trying to make her exceptional abilities seem somehow lesser or unimpressive because they’re only a byproduct of experiments done to other Ackerman’s over the centuries.  This smacks terribly to me of Eren taking out his own physical shortcomings on Mikasa and Armin both, blaming them for his own weakness.  Eren taunts Armin later while he beats the hell out of him, telling him they’ve never fought because it never would have been a “fair fight”, as if Eren himself was ever any kind of exceptional fighter.  It’s made a point of again and again early in the series that Eren isn’t particularly special or gifted in anything he does.  He isn’t a good fighter, he isn’t especially smart, he isn’t especially skilled.  But here we have him flaunting himself over Armin, as if Eren was ever some sort of uber bad-ass fighter who could destroy any opponent with ease.  It really does just come across as crippling insecurity on Eren’s part, on him acting out his self-loathing and insecurity in himself on his friends.  It’s really one of Eren’s lowest moments in the whole series, and especially because it doesn’t particularly feel like he doesn’t entirely mean it.  I think he does, to some extent.  

Anyway, okay, I also want to talk a little about Levi and how he reacts to the news of the Yagerists taking over the military, and Zeke’s involvement.  

What really strikes me here is Levi’s reaction to Pixis’ and the MPs plan to feed Eren to someone else, to give them the Founder.  Levi says to hell with that plan, and it’s really interesting to me, because this shows two things about Levi and how he regards Eren at this point.  It isn’t that he feels betrayed by Eren that Levi has his internal monologue about all his comrades dying in the line of duty while protecting Eren, it’s because he’s thinking about how all of those people died to protect Eren, only for the military to then turn around and render all of those sacrifices utterly meaningless by deciding to just feed Eren to whoever they choose.  A recurring and vital theme for Levi’s character throughout SnK is that he can’t abide meaningless death.  The thought of anyone dying or suffering in any way without reason, for Levi, is one of the worst things that can happen.  Pointless, meaningless death is a travesty to him.  And by deciding to just kill Eren then and there, to feed him to someone else, the military is basically shitting all over the deaths and sacrifices of an innumerable amount of Levi’s friends and comrades, essentially declaring those sacrifices null and void and pointless.  All these people will have died, it turns out, for nothing.  That’s why Levi calls the current situation they’re in a “farce”, because it’s made a joke out of all those lives lost.  And it’s why Levi won’t stand for it.  He refuses to let it happen, instead deciding it’s Zeke who should be fed to someone.  It must be more galling to Levi than just about anything, that these MPs, who never lifted a finger or sacrificed anything in order to fight for humanity’s survival have now taken it upon themselves to decide that all that effort, all those lives lost, all those morals compromised, all that blood gotten on the hands of the SC members for the betterment of humanity, meant nothing and was never necessary, that they’ll just kill Eren without any input or say from those people that sacrificed so much to keep Eren alive all this time.  And it’s not just the lives lost, like Mike’s, or Nanaba’s, or Nifa’s, or Erwin’s, or any of the other hundreds of SC’s members that died while protecting Eren, but also people like Jean and Armin having to get blood on their hands, going against their moral codes and now living with the burden of having taken lives, or Dimo Reeves essentially giving his life to protect Eren and Historia.  There’s any number of smaller sacrifices, on top of the lives lost, they’ve all made in order to protect Eren, because they all believed him to be essential to humanity’s future, that he was one of them, and could be relied on and believed in to always hold true to the ideals of the SC, to fight for humanity’s salvation.    The military’s decision to just kill Eren throws that belief back in the faces of the SC.  

I think, also, it’s interesting, because Levi’s still holding here to the possibility that Eren hasn’t betrayed them all.  He’s still showing that he believes in Eren, even as that belief is being strained and tested by everything that’s happening.  That Levi doesn’t just immediately wash his hands of Eren here, and say “Yeah, kill him.”, shows also that he still WANTS to believe in Eren, that all the hopes they put in him weren’t unfounded or for naught.  Even as he acknowledges that he doesn’t know if Eren is being controlled by Zeke or not, he still wants to give him the benefit of the doubt.  It shows that he still cares about Eren as a comrade and a friend.  He holds no such ties to Zeke, who’s done nothing but cause him pain and misery, and so Levi’s solution here makes sense.  Feed Zeke to one of the Yaegerists, then, after Historia gives birth, if she’s still willing, let her consume the Beast Titan.  Levi’s trying here to avoid killing Eren, both because he can’t bear the thought that all those people died for nothing, and also because he still feels loyalty and friendship towards Eren, which speaks to the depth of Levi’s dedication as a friend, honestly.  

Also, we get to see Levi’s suspicion of Zeke’s story about how and why he turned the people of Ragako into Titan’s validated, when it’s revealed that he lied about his spinal fluid, if consumed by Eldian’s, freezing them up.  The guy really is just a straight up liar.  And that particular deception of Zeke’s is what leads to the tragedy of what happens next, turning Levi’s comrades into Titans.  Like I said in my previous post, I think Levi was trying to genuinely glean if Zeke really was as heartless and uncaring as he appeared, trying to understand if there was some understandable reason behind his actions, and that he came the conclusion from reading Zeke’s tone, words and body language (just like Erwin says about Levi’s ability to see the true nature of man), that there isn’t any real humanity in Zeke at all.  And of course, what Zeke does here only proves that beyond any sort of doubt.  

Levi’s declaration here that he isn’t going to let Zeke dictate things any longer is Levi being fed up with these mind games and manipulations.  He’s known all this time that Zeke has been stringing them along, lying to them, using them, all with some ulterior motive and plan in waiting, even as he couldn’t know the details of those things, and Levi knows if he waits any longer to take Zeke out, things are going to reach a point of no return.  Levi’s instincts here are right, and have been from the start, but because he was beholden to the chain of command, he couldn’t act.  It’s the pussyfooting around that the military’s done up to this point, their indecision and fear, to trust Zeke, but also to have the balls to move against Zeke completely, that’s lead to things getting so out of hand.  Tragically, Levi’s decision here comes too late.  But man, he was ready to take matters into his own hands finally.  Someone should’ve listened to him sooner about Zeke.  They should’ve just killed his ass the second they had him on the island.

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk 111 #snk 112 #Levi Ackerman #eren yeager #zeke yeager

[sweetsforhikari]

Happy Birthday, Sakuya 🌸

Without you, there won’t be Mankai Company and our story together wouldn’t have begun. In honor of your birthday and the release of your second solo song, please read the letters that I wrote for you about how the troupe members think about you.

a.n. 

I know the format might be weird, but I wrote this addressing Sakuya, so the ‘you’ here refers to Sakuya. I just thought of writing something for him to read so yes, do take note that you need to read everything below as if you’re Sakuya!

Masumi Usui

Your days of taking care of him as a leader, as a friend, as a brother really made an impact to him. Although Masumi never explicitly reciprocated your love, he has grown to listen and respect you. Allowing you to be involved in his business, hugging him, choosing to depend on you, and taking the time to listen to your words are mere proofs of him considering you as part of his family.

Both you and Masumi never really knew what true family should be like, but I’m sure your time together made both of you understand what it meant to have a brother who would stick by your side no matter what.

Tsuzuru Minagi

He has immense faith in you, Sakuya. All the scripts he had written for your role have definitely been adjusted to suit you and you alone. He would have never written a role where he knew you couldn’t perform in.

Without you as the leader, he would also have gone mad dealing with the antiques of the other members. As much as he acts as the mediator, the middle ground of the chaos ensuing in Spring Troupe from time to time, he appreciates your presence as the leader who has grown so much more dependable throughout the years. 

Dare I say, sometimes, he glances at you and smiles softly, proud you as one of his little brothers that he cherishes deeply.

Itaru Chigasaki

Sure, he might view you as a token of gacha luck to bring that SSR home, but you’re definitely more than that. Him accepting his role as the father of Spring Troupe was his way of committing to the found family that he has now. The family that you have established.

Deep down, he’s eternally grateful for your ceaseless attempts to convince him to stay and perform with the troupe during Romeo and Julius. Without you, he wouldn’t have met this group of people with whom he could drop his mask and completely be his true self.

Citron

He enjoys seeing your face light up with wonder and excitement not because he takes pleasure in teasing you, but I believe he wants to preserve that childlike innocence in you as much as possible.

Despite what others might think, I genuinely believe Citron only wants you to feel happy and ignore the negativity and evil that lie in this world. The greatest pleasure in his days has always been to see you smile right after you wake up and before you fall asleep at night. Don’t you think that’s why he enjoys telling you those magical, bombastic, wonderous stories?

Chikage Utsuki

Admittedly, he still enjoys tricking you during your daily coin toss, but he will stop at nothing to ensure you do not need to worry about a thing in life.

After all, you were the first to not give up on him and still saw him favorably (or should I say objectively without any judgment) despite his actions towards Izumi and Mankai in general.

Putting all the other troupe members under the cut so this won’t get too long! 

Tenma Sumeragi

You do know this child actor genius took the audition for Mankai because of you, right? You, who thought your acting was sub-par, turned out to inspire a veteran to face his fears and took that step.

How could Tenma ever thank you properly for that? That’s why as a fellow troupe leader, he would make sure to practice often with you, giving you acting pointers whenever he could. Not to demean you, but to lift you up so both of you can bloom together on stage as equals.

Yuki Rurikawa

He comments about your naivety, but I dare say he actually envies you for it. Being part of the minority and adopting a cynical approach to life proves to be tiring at times. The positive outlook in life despite your background is definitely something that he has considered to adopt at some point in time.

To him, you’re a reminder that being positive is an option. As much as he seems baffled by your innocence, he is part of the crew that does his best to preserve that side of you.

Muku Sakisaka

You two are angels! I can only imagine both of you continue being the precious babies that you are. Muku adores you and definitely considers you one of his precious older brothers.

His enthusiasm is reciprocated with you around and your presence lifts up his spirit as well. You are each other’s healing spirit in a way. Always be there for each other, and just by being together, both of you remind all of us that staying pure is a choice and such sight heals us on a daily basis.

Misumi Ikaruga

He’s off on scavenging triangles for your birthday! Apparently, he heard the cats sang praises about you the other day. As thanks for being his friend and for being kind to the kitties, he’s going to find a special triangle just for you.

Thank you for being so kind and understanding to him, and for becoming his faithful friend, one of his precious treasures in life.

Kazunari Miyoshi

How many times have you appeared in Kazu’s Inste feed, I wonder. He always seem to find joy in sharing what he found that might be of interest to you.

Both of you are expressive so it’s no surprise either when Kazu wants to hear your opinion on anything. Hope you find those times to be exciting. It is after all, quite rare, to find someone to be candid with these days.

Kumon Hyodo

Both of you are quite literally sunshine in human form. At times too bright for some, but that’s why both of you should continue being you.

Even Kumon admits watching you lifts his spirits, can you imagine the influence you have in improving the mood of those around you? Sakuya, as Kumon said, please stay true to yourself and keep being you. Your smile and positivity radiate and I honestly think we all need someone like you in our lives.

Banri Settsu

Don’t feel bad if he lets you borrow his clothes, or if he buys you stuff! It’s his way of letting you know he cares deeply for you. Please don’t think that you’re not worthy of receiving such gifts or even having his company.

If anything, all he wants is to see you all happy with that beaming smile. Keep being the sunshine that you are because I’m sure that’s what Banri wants for you!

Juza Hyodo

The passionate duo; both of you talk about acting a lot and I’m glad you have someone to share your thoughts and passion with.

Juza considers you as a companion of some sort, he seems to always asking you to practice or do etudes together. Just knowing that both of you can support one another in your endeavours is heartwarming. But, please don’t eat too much sweets if you can’t take it. I’m sure Juza would understand.

Taichi Nanao

He likes to try out new things and he’s grateful that you are always open to his idea and agrees to accompany him whenever he tries them out.

Thank you for being a great friend for Taichi, but please make sure that you guys don’t go overboard and hurt yourselves. Wouldn’t want that to happen when you’re having fun, right?

Omi Fushimi

How’s the Neapolitan that he cooked for you today? It must be delicious! All the love and affection he has for you has always been included in his cooking.

Thank you for being the best at helping him out in the kitchen and actually doing the chores. He appreciates it a lot, especially since the dishes don’t clean themselves and with more hands on deck, he is eternally grateful.

Sakyo Furuichi

Both of you really have come along way, from him being doubtful about your potential until today. You did it, Sakuya! You proved him wrong, alright.

I believe you are his reminder to stay true to what your dreams are. In both of your cases, you both want to be an acknowledged actor. What a long way you two have come. Remember that you have the power to prove people wrong with your earnest determination and always remember that you manage to get Sakyo’s approval on your leadership and acting skills! 

Azami Izumida

This kid needs to learn a lot from you and he knows that even though he doesn’t readily admit to it. Being a leader isn’t a walk in the park, he realises that as soon as he meets the other troupe members.

Although both of you come from an entirely different background, with him being rebellious and all, he is bound to understand that being earnest as Sakyo has said, will benefit him in the long run. You are a great example for him to follow, and don’t need to feel the pressure! You’re fine the way you are, and this kid will soon learn so both of you can bloom together!

Tsumugi Tsukioka

I’m pretty sure the cherry blossoms in the courtyard are well taken care of by Tsumugi because it also reminds him of you.

He looks out for you in the smallest ways which you might not have noticed. I’m pretty sure you realise by now that you can talk to him whenever you’re troubled, right? He will listen and he will be grateful he could be an emotional support for you.

Tasuku Takato

Have you been working out a lot with him? I could start seeing those muscle lines on your arms and legs. Keep up the good work!

He cheers you on by always thinking of training menus for you, knowing that your motivation to be stronger is to build your stamina for better endurance while acting. Tasuku might not say anything, but deep down he appreciates you depending on him for such matters. (Don’t tell him I said this, please. He’ll deny it anyway)

Hisoka Mikage

Being in the Christmas play together must have made you guys closer. Hisoka even mentioned how he looks forward to acting with you again.

Your caring nature did not go unnoticed. I believe he even gave you some marshmallows to try? And if that’s not him accepting you as one of his own, I don’t know what is.

Thank you for always looking out for him. He has you to thank for all the times he slept and was protected by the cold weather. 

Homare Arisugawa

I’m curious whether you actually understand Homare when he’s gushing about an inspiration for his poems. But, you always seem to listen intently and take the time to attempt at digesting the verses. 

Homare adores you for that; not everyone can appreciate his poems, he knows that very well, but those who put in the effort to understand his world will always be remembered. And you, Sakuya, are one of them.

Azuma Yukishiro

Being one of the oldest members of the company also meant that witnessing youth in action is always something that he looks out for everyday. This might explain why he’s a bit sad you’re one year older and more mature now.

His wish for you is simply to let you have no worries in life as you experience youth and the splendour it brings. You’re still young, so many doors of opportunities left to open. With that in mind, feel free to embrace your passion and continue pushing forward to reach your dream, Sakuya. He has your back and nothing will ever get in your way anymore.

Guy

Honestly, please convince him that you enjoy Citron’s company. I’m confident that you never once considered Citron to be a nuisance or burden of any sort.

Just know that Guy is at your service for all the trouble that Citron has caused you. And in times of need, he will always be ready to assist you.

#a3! #a3! act! addict! actors! #a3! game #a3 headcanons #a3! headcanons #a3! actor training game #a3! sakuya #sakuya sakuma #a3! masumi #a3! tsuzuru #a3! citron #a3! itaru #a3! chikage #a3! spring #a3! spring troupe #a3! tenma #a3! yuki #a3! muku #a3! misumi #a3! kazunari #a3! kumon #a3! summer troupe #a3! banri #a3! juza #a3! taichi #a3! omi #a3! sakyo #a3! azami #a3! autumn troupe #a3! tsumugi

[kieraswriting]

Coffin Chapter Two

Masterpost

It had been a week since Virgil had arrived, and Logan had finally read through all of the reference material about training vampires. There had been a surprising amount of it, especially since it seemed that most of it wouldn’t be useful to him.

It seemed that the major point, in all of these books, was getting the vampire to a point at which it would be compliant and submissive. The methods of arriving at this point were varied, but many of them involved keeping the vampire under constant threat of pain. There were several points at which Logan’s stomach turned, reading through the accounts. He would have to keep the books away from Patton.

However, Virgil was already compliant, seemingly as a side effect of being kept in the coffin for a lengthy period of time. And also, Logan was not unaware, likely this was affected by Patton’s immediate kindness, and possibly also by Virgil’s age. He certainly was the youngest vampire Logan had ever come into contact with, and the only to claim to have never killed a human. He wasn’t sure if he believed the claim, but still.

But next was a short section on compliancy tests, after which it was suggested that the vampire could be taken on hunts, so long as they were in a situation to be controlled should something go wrong. It seemed that the easiest and simplest first test was the silver test. Logan was ready. He already had silver. He grabbed a bolt that was usually used in crossbows, but they didn’t have any crossbows, just a three-set of the bolts. It had been a gift to Patton several months ago.

He went downstairs, noting that Virgil was trembling again. He’d have to figure that out. Surely it wasn’t still fear. Virgil didn’t stand, but he did turn to face him when he saw that Logan was heading towards the cell.

Logan sat down outside of the cell, facing Virgil. Virgil still had that toy Patton had given him, and was fiddling with it with one hand down in his lap. His wrists still looked awful. Shouldn’t they have healed by now? He’d ask later. For now the test.

Logan held up the bolt. “This is made entirely of silver.”

Virgil nodded hesitantly.

Logan rolled it into the cell, and Virgil scrambled back away from it. Something rose up in him. Some kind of feeling. But Logan pushed it back down. It was a test. And Virgil was only a vampire.

“I want you to pick it up.” Logan said.

Virgil looked back and forth between the bolt and Logan. “I-it does hurt me,” he said, holding out his wrists as examples.

Whatever that feeling was, it lifted its head and bit him, but Logan shoved it down again. “I am aware.”

Virgil looked down at the bolt as if it was about to come alive and bite him. “Why?” His voice was very quiet, as if he were trying very hard to make sure it didn’t sound accusatory.

“I want you to do it because I told you to.” Logan said.

Virgil looked from him to the bolt and back again. He gritted his teeth and picked up the bolt. Immediately his face twisted in pain, but he didn’t drop the bolt.

“Hand it to me,” Logan instructed, putting his own hand through the bars to receive it.

Virgil dropped the bolt into his hand immediately. He let out a hissing breath, tucking his hand to his stomach. Logan had a brief glimpse of reddened, welted skin.

He had shoved the feeling down, but now it started rooting around in his stomach, gnawing painfully. “Well done, Virgil.”

Virgil nodded, still trying to blink back tears.

Logan stood to leave.

“Wait!”

Logan turned back to Virgil.

“I—Can I—? I’m hungry.”

Logan gave a slight frown. “Already? It was my impression that vampires ate less frequently.”

“Normally, if, if we’ve had a full meal.”

Logan has only wanted to do one test today. But the second test listed was a hunger test. It was perfectly logical to conduct the test now.

Still, the feeling in his stomach squirmed uncomfortably as he said, “No.”

Virgil’s face fell.

Logan moved to a cabinet and pulled out a childish game that Patton kept there. If worst came to worst, he didn’t doubt that he could overpower Virgil, especially since he still had the silver bolt in his pocket. He unlocked the cell door.

“Come. I want you to play this game with me.”

Virgil came out and sat down on the couch. Logan set up the game, easily playing while keeping his attention on observing Virgil.

Virgil’s eyes had been tinged with red, but as they played, as Logan stayed so close, the red darkened. They played several rounds in near silence.

As time passed, Virgil’s playing grew more simplistic, his physical movements became more jerky, and he stared more and more at Logan’s wrists. Clearly the bloodlust was affecting him. Honestly, Logan was surprised that Virgil hadn’t made any kind of move toward him yet.

“When this round is over,” Virgil said, his voice deep and growling on the way out. “Can I eat? Please?”

Logan looked up into Virgil’s eyes, not seeing any aggression, even though they were nearly glowing red now. He wanted to see how far he could push this.

“No.”

Virgil’s jaw clenched, and he swallowed heavily. He stood up. Logan’s hand went to the silver bolt. Virgil went into the cell, pulling the door shut.

“I can’t. I can’t stay there. I’m sorry.”

Logan wondered if this counted as passing the test. On the one hand, Virgil had just eaten a week ago, even if it was small. On the other hand, removing oneself from a situation was a legitimate form of self control.

“Very well.” Logan locked the cell door.

He went upstairs. He was practiced in letting his own blood, and sat down to do so. He was hit with a sudden question, and started writing an email right away.

Sir, I wish to have the records of the vampire which you sent us. Specifically regarding feeding schedules. Provided, of course, that this does not contradict the rules of the final test. Thank you.

Logan.

He was just cleaning up when he received a reply.

The vampire was captured on 7/13. It was kept in a containment coffin. It was fed 8 oz. of human blood on 8/17. It was shipped on 9/3. The date of its arrival is estimated to be 9/15. For further details you will have to make an official request.

Virgil is starving.

Depending on when he ate before capture, it could have been well over a month between eating then, and it was another month before he ate. Both times it was well under half of what would properly constitute a full meal. And the whole time he was trapped inside a coffin in constant contact with silver.

Logan’s stomach lurched, and he dove for the sink, leaning over it heavily.

Even for an uncontrollably violent vampire it would be cruel and inhumane.

This was why the silver burns weren’t healing. And why Virgil kept shaking. Why he’d been so terrified. Why he’d broken down like he had when he had been released. It was a wonder he hadn’t been driven mad.

Logan was going to need more blood.

•^*^••

Virgil crouched in the back corner of the cage, his hands fisted tightly in his hair, wishing that the mattress was a bed so he could crawl underneath it. Anything to hide him from the hunger that had spread to every cell of his body.

It hadn’t been that bad until he had come in. Until the scent of blood had filled the room. And then he had pulled out a game, his hands close enough to touch. Close enough to bite. Red and warm flowing just underneath. Of course, he still had the muzzle on, but it was so easily removed. Just a string behind his head.

Virgil clenched his jaw again. He couldn’t keep thinking about it. It only made it worse.

The door to the basement opened, and the smell became so much stronger all over again. Virgil clenched his hands tighter and buried his face down in his knees.

“Please… don’t… “

He heard the cell door open.

“Virgil, I brought you food.” It was Logan, but his voice was much gentler than Virgil had yet heard it.

Virgil’s head popped up immediately, almost against his will. Logan was kneeling in front of him, and in one hand was a blood bag, except this one was full.

Virgil could have cried. Scratch that, Virgil did cry. Logan untied the muzzle and handed Virgil the bag. It was drained in a few brief minutes, but they seemed like some of the most heavenly minutes Virgil had ever experienced.

The hunger finally stopped. He even felt full. He started feeling almost uncomfortably warm, and his wrists and ankles prickled where the skin was starting to heal. The fear he’d been trapped in loosened its hold, and suddenly he was very tired.

“Perhaps that was too much at once,” Logan mused.

“No! I’m-I’m awake. Thank you.”

•^*^••

Patton smelled blood. Which was odd. That meant that either Logan or Roman had let blood recently, like last half hour recently. Or maybe just hadn’t cleaned up very well. Patton wandered around the house, but didn’t see either of them. Roman was probably not home, since he had plenty of other things he did in addition to being a hunter-in-training. But Logan was almost always home, and left a note if he wasn’t.

Suddenly a horrible thought crashed into Patton’s mind. What if Virgil had hurt Logan? If Logan was downstairs, bleeding, that would explain both his absence and the blood smell. Patton patted his pocket, the gun was still there. And he knew he kept it loaded. He rushed downstairs.

Logan was inside the cell, with the door open, but seemed perfectly fine. Virgil was holding an empty blood bag, his face flushed and streaked with tears, and his eyes bright red. Patton let out a breath and let go of the gun.

Both Logan and Virgil turned to look at him.

“Greetings, Patton. How was the visit with your parents?”

“It was fine. I think it might have put me a bit on edge, though.”

“That does not seem to be an uncommon occurrence.” Logan noted.

Logan turned back to Virgil and picked up the muzzle. Virgil dipped his head forward to let Logan put it on.

Patton found that he was surprised. He shouldn’t be. Virgil had been perfectly submissive to anything any of them had asked of him. But, coming straight from his parents’ house, it was just different. It made him feel weird. And not a good weird either.

Somehow, he doubted that these feelings were what was intended by the final test. He’d been expecting a wild vampire, one that they had to keep perfectly restrained or else it would attack them. And judging by what his father had been saying earlier, that was exactly the intention. But somehow they had gotten Virgil, who seemed more human than Patton could have ever guessed a vampire could be. And now, Patton was left feeling incredibly guilty.

Maybe he could talk with Logan about it. Logan didn’t really understand feelings, but he always had an opinion, and facts to base his opinion on. So maybe Logan would help him stop feeling so guilty. He knew he shouldn’t feel guilty. As far as hunters went, they were being exceptionally kind to a captured vampire. But it still didn’t stop him from feeling just terrible when he saw Virgil’s face marked with tears.

“Hey, Logan, can I talk with you?” Patton asked.

“Of course.”

Logan came out and shut the cell door behind him.

Patton took Logan back upstairs and poured them each a coffee.

“What is it?” Logan asked. “You aren’t usually this hesitant to begin talking.”

“It’s just….” Patton sat down and took a sip of his coffee. “I’m feeling like, like we aren’t treating Virgil right.”

To his surprise, Logan nodded immediately. “I would agree with you.”

Patton frowned. This was not how he had expected the conversation to go. “What?”

“I’ve found myself… deeply disturbed at the suggested tests in the material we’ve been given. I was even more certain after administering some of the tests. I asked about Virgil’s feeding schedule before coming here, and now I am certain that there is something fundamentally wrong in the way that hunters are instructed to treat vampires.”

A part of Patton strongly agreed with Logan. But it still went against everything he’d ever been taught. He found himself advocating for the very thing he’d always disliked. “But normal vampires aren’t like Virgil.”

“That does appear to be true, however, I am now considering the possibility that we have only been exposed to vampires that are violent, and the further possibility that it was a purposeful move on the behalf of our teachers.”

“But I’ve been around loads and loads of vampires in my life, and I’ve never met one like Virgil.”

“That is only half true. You yourself have told me that you’ve seen vampires act in sometimes shockingly docile ways. In ways that inspired you to pity them. That you disagreed with those that would hurt them.”

Patton nodded slowly. He knew Logan was right. But it just… it just went against everything he’d been taught. He knew, if he made a decision, it could put him against both his mom and dad, maybe forever.

“I still believe that, human or vampire, if one is hurting and killing others, that we would be in the right to kill them. But I’m beginning to disbelieve that all vampires by nature hurt and kill.” Logan said.

Patton hung his head. “You’re right. I just… I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t think letting Virgil go will help anybody. If any of us doesn’t pass this test… well, Dad will be upset. And I don’t think Roman will agree with us.”

“I don’t know what exactly is the best course of action yet, either. But we have plenty of time to research and consider before we are forced into a decision.”

“Do we? I don’t know that I can just leave him down there knowing that I’m doing the wrong thing.”

“Help me then. Surely someone else has come to the same conclusion we have. We just have to find them.”

•^*^••

Roman made it back late at night. Logan and Patton were usually in bed at this time, so he made sure to be quiet as he opened the door and set down his bag. In the kitchen was a note on the table.

Patton and I have gone together to do research. We will likely wish to speak with you upon our return.

Logan.

There’s food in the oven, just turn it on for 30 min!

Patton :)

Roman smiled. It was odd of Patton to join Logan in his research expeditions, but not unheard of. The stranger thing was that Logan still insisted on leaving notes, when he could have just as easily, or more easily, texted.

Roman turned on the oven and sat in the living room. Maybe he’d watch some tv while he waited.

He suddenly realized that the vampire had been left alone for some time at least, and he was responsible, since he was the one home. He should probably check, while the food was cooking.

He went to the basement door and clicked the light on. As he opened the door, he heard a scramble and a quiet clang. Roman rushed downstairs to see the vampire sitting on its bed, breathing heavily.

He looked around the room, noting the cards on the table and the several open cabinets.

“What were you doing?”

“... nothing.”

“No, you don’t lie to me,” Roman said, stalking towards the cell. “You got out, didn’t you?”

The vampire cringed back into the corner. “The door was left unlocked… I didn’t go upstairs.”

Roman scowled. “And you thought that you could just come out? What were you even doing?”

The vampire held up sloppily bandaged arms. “I found some medicine, and the cards.”

“You can’t just go and take our stuff! None of it belongs to you!”

“Well… I-I don’t belong to you either!” The vampire said, raising its voice.

Roman flung the door open.

“No. No, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” The vampire covered its head with its arms.

“You’re a vampire. You hurt people. Your whole kind hurts, and kills, and destroys! You deserve whatever happens to you.”

The vampire curled up into a tight ball. “Humans hurt me too. They killed my sire and kidnapped me and hurt me.”

“Your sire,” Roman scoffed. “Your sire took a perfectly decent person and broke them into a vampire.”

“No, she didn’t! You don’t know anything about her!” Despite the angry tone, the words were still quiet, and muffled by the vampire’s head being tucked down into its knees.

“I know she killed and hurt people. Like all vampires do. She stole your chance at a normal life.”

“She was trying to help me!”

“How does turning you into a vampire help you? You have to leech off others to live, you want to hurt people—“

“No, I don’t!” The vampire broke in. “I’ve never wanted to hurt people.”

“Then why do you?! Why do you all always hurt people?!” Roman slammed his hand against the bars of the cell.

The vampire didn’t make any answer other than a flinch.

Roman turned away, disgusted. He made sure to lock the cell before he went upstairs.

The food was, of course, delicious, but the moment it hit his tongue everything just tasted sour.

#sanders sides #vampire au #vampires #blood #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #emile picani #remy sleep #my own work #coffin #violence #speciesism #vampire virgil #platonic moxiety

[make-it-mavis]

Homesick (Entry #36)

(cw: discussion of addiction/violence, suicide mention) ----------

01/24/88   6:30 PM

Hey.

Once I’d chosen my “higher power”, the rest of the program really began to interest me more.

That isn’t to say that I had suddenly seen the light and knew exactly how to fix everything, no. I was still on wobbly legs and I knew it. The goal was to shift my entire worldview, and that sort of thing does not happen overnight. But I had an idea to go off of, which was more than what I’d had before. And the more I sat with it, the more the idea unfurled itself. 

There are no absolutes in a world of color. No rules, only choices. I thought I’d lived my life as a rainbow, but I’d been painting with one color for so long. I was indigo -- cold, proud, with the depression of blue and the aggression of violet. I was the color of bruises, the sort that are almost beautiful, but hurt something awful. All of my choices were touched by a shade of pain. I never really thought there was another way to be.

But this new theory of mine challenged that with the phrase: ‘There’s always another color.’

I didn’t know which ones exactly I wanted to move forward with, but I sort of figured that keeping an open mind and paying close attention would reveal them to me. And that, as it turned out, was sort of what step three was all about.

Step three is Surrender. We were expected to surrender to our higher power, and hold it in greater importance than our own selfish desires. My own desire was to learn to live by my new worldview anyway, so it seemed easy enough. But I was told that swallowing my pride would be a tough thing to maintain, so I had to stay on top of it. Well, duh. Of course it’s been hard. You and I were always some of the most prideful little beasts in the arcade. I still fail regularly, but I haven’t given up yet. Which is really what matters. Or so I’ve heard. 

I’ll admit something sad. Sometimes, while I’m doing all this work, I wonder if you could have benefitted from anything like this. Like, maybe it would have helped you sort out all that darkness in your head. Maybe it could have saved you, and you’d be sitting right here beside me right now. I don’t know… maybe not. I’m not sure how you’d have ever been convinced to try it. I mean… it took a monumental catastrophe and threat of imprisonment for me to even consider it. If only you had been lucky enough to survive your own… catastrophe. Then, well... maybe.

It hurts so much to think about.

If nothing else, it makes me want to succeed for the both of us.

I was still on step three by my fourth session, but I was preemptively worrying about the upcoming step four. It had been causing me a fair bit of anxiety since the beginning, and I was almost afraid to complete step three and arrive at it. Step four is Courage, which involves pretty much digging deep into your code and listing all the bad things you’ve ever done. A ‘fearless moral inventory’, they called it. I just had no idea how I was going to tackle that. Others might have been able to make a list based on things they felt bad about. I was going to have to think a little harder about mine. Not that I have any shortage of misdeeds to list -- I probably have a hundred for every day of my life. I just… didn’t feel bad about most of them. Feeling any kind of remorse or regret for my actions was never something I was very good at. 

I began to wonder why that was. Probably for the first time ever.

While I considered it, I just listened in to all the shares from the other members. During step three, I’d been going along with the challenge I issued myself before, the one meant to lessen Worluk’s effect on me. It was going alright. As I paid more attention to them, the other members had started to take on their own colors in my mind. I definitely got to know some of them a bit more, and even found that listening to their stories helped me gain better perspectives of my own.

I feel a bizarre need to respect the anonymity of the program even here, so I won’t name names. But I’ll name their colors.

An NPC sprite who gave me pinkish-mulberry vibes told us about his experience with step five, Integrity, which I’d been trying not to think about. He seemed near tears as he spoke, just brimming with emotion.

“I’d been so afraid that she would turn me away when she heard about the things I’d done… but she just hugged me. She said that she would have been there for me sooner if I’d just opened up to her… but I think I’d just been so ashamed, I didn’t even think I was worthy of help. I never knew how important that was. Just to feel like you deserve saving.”

That one reminded me of you a little bit, which hurt. I thought about how you had only chosen to let me in on our very last night together. How you barely gave me any time to help you. I hoped you felt like you were worthy of help, but I also kind of doubted it. 

It also raised questions about my own self worth... but I tried to tuck those away for later.

A Bad Guy sprite with an orange air about him piped up in response, saying he could relate. But in his case, the sprite he had tried to make amends with turned him away. “It was awful,” he said. “It was everything I’d been afraid of, but all the same… I had to accept it. I’d done wrong by them. I have to live with the consequences of that and choose to be better. Even though my fears came true, I’m still alive. I’m still okay. And that’s kind of freeing.”

Again and again, fear played a heavy role in their struggles. And the more I sat with it, the more it sank in, and the more sense it made. As much as I hated to entertain the idea, maybe I’d been afraid, too. Of what, exactly… I couldn’t really say for sure. But I took a look at my life for a moment, and all the things I loved to do, like drinking and fighting and breaking the rules… and felt kind of sick. Like… maybe it wasn’t always just about chasing freedom. Chasing one thing… could also mean running away from another.

But I could hardly be blamed for that, could I? I’d felt alienated for so long, like different rules applied to me because my Easter Egg role sucked so much. Like my pain validated all the bad things I did. It was only fair, right?

But that was when Worluk spoke up. Her voice didn’t strike quite as much terror in me as it had before, but even as small and raspy as it was, it demanded my attention.

“I’ve tried apologizing to the boys. To everyone, really,” she said, a quiet, tired frustration in her voice. “But they won’t take it. They see right through me. I did a lot of things that hurt them while I was neck deep in buffs. And I’m sorry for hurting them, I really am. But I’ll be real with you all. I’m having trouble regretting the things I did. They were all things I wanted to do already. It just felt like buffs made me actually go out and do something about it.”

“That’s understandable,” Clyde said. “But none of us are exempt from regret. None of us here can decide that we’ve done no wrong. The sprites around us, the ones we hurt, are the ones we need to listen to in order to understand the gravity of the things we’ve done.”

Worluk shook her head a bit at that, refusing to look. “I know. I get that. I do. But if you had only seen what I’ve seen, you wouldn’t say that…”

“Pain is the one thing all of us have in common,” Clyde reminded her calmly. “No addict is free of it. But pain only explains our behavior. It does not justify it.”

I winced. 

It felt like that sentence saw my thoughts and slapped me hard for them. His words hung over my head and forced my gaze to the floor. I wanted to argue. I didn’t want it to be true. I needed to keep being the exception in order to justify my actions. After everything I’d been through, I couldn’t be held to the same standard as everyone else.

But, to my dismay, that also seemed to be how Worluk felt.

I knew firsthand how unjust her actions had been. I knew that she had no excuse. Her decision to attack me was nothing but misplaced rage and overwhelming bloodlust. She was nothing more than a dangerous, sadistic lunatic in my eyes, and she deserved to be locked up. She didn’t even deserve to be in that circle with the rest of us.

It was unspeakably frightening to me, then, that we could have the same thought. That we could be the same in any way at all. Yet, I was helpless to deny it.

We were very similar.

We had both used our pain to justify some pretty horrible things. We both refused to take responsibility. And the scariest part was, even though I hadn’t attempted to murder anyone, who’s to say that I wouldn’t have gone down that route if I hadn’t gotten help when I did? I mean, I did threaten someone just to get their buffs. If the circumstances were right, could I have done the exact same thing as Worluk?

Wouldn’t I have killed to avenge you?

I felt sick. I couldn’t let it be true. I had to be better than that. Better than her. 

But in a weird sort of way, I kind of... wanted her to do better, too. Not out of compassion. It was sort of selfish, actually. I felt like she and I were, unfortunately, in the same sinking ship. I could have just let her drown, but I’d just be watching her suffer a fate that would quickly come for me after. If that makes sense. I hated her. I still wanted to rip her antenna off and feed them to her. But if she was beyond help, then so was I. Somehow, I had to believe that it was possible to turn things around, even after we had sunk as deep as we had.

And counselling is hard. Really hard. And boring. But she had to do it, same as anyone else there. She had to swallow the same giant pill that I did, so maybe I could jam it down her unwilling throat. 

Maybe I could take things into my own hands, just a little bit.

I didn’t want to speak to her directly, because I might have lost my nerve and started screaming at her. But I thought up a way to get my point across. Whether it was a good idea or not, I didn’t have time to assess. I only had until my turn to plan, so it was going to be mostly improv.

It was time for more rolling with the proverbial punches.

Once my turn came, I found myself trembling with the severity of what I was about to do. This bug sprite had caused me so much pain and suffering. But I took a deep breath and reminded myself that I could paint with a color outside of revenge if I so chose. So I loaded my brush with exactly what the dreaded step four called for -- courage.

“Hi, my name’s Mavis, I’m an addict,” I began as usual, leaning on my knees. “I’m on step three tonight, but... all I can think about is step four.”

I was met with some knowing nods. Someone muttered, “That’s a tough one.”

I flashed a half-smile and continued, “Honestly, a big part of why it’s so daunting is, I mean, I’ve probably done more bad things in my life than good things. I could try to list them all, but then I’d be on step four for the rest of my life.”

There were a couple chuckles.

“But listening to you guys and your stories about, y’know, opening up to sprites you care about, I, uh…” I paused. “Well, I’m really not good at… being helped. I never really have been. A big part of that’s just pride, but I think, uh… everything that goes along with lettin’ people in has never been my forte, and that’s only gotten worse ever since, uh… well, lately. I haven’t let anyone in on what I’ve been going through. But... well, I guess, keepin’ with step three like I oughtta, I feel like... it’d be surrendering to my higher power to-- Okay, I don’t know quite how to word it, but I need to paint with a different color. That much is clear. And I thought… y’know, I could start right here. So… I’ve got a story I’d like to share, if that’s alright.”

“Please,” Clyde prompted.

“It’s an ugly one,” I warned him.

“There are no judgments here,” he reminded me with a smile.

I took another deep breath and sighed. Here goes, I thought.

“Well, it’s probably no secret to y’all that I haven’t exactly been the most popular sprite in the arcade since… y’know. Everyone’s got their opinion. And some sprites, uh, share it more loudly than others. Throwin’ stuff, yellin’ at me, that all sucks, but I guess I can deal with it. The thing is, though, someone… took it to a whole other level. Back before I got hooked on GC, someone, well… tried to kill me.”

That got everyone's attention.

Clyde turned blue. There were several horrified gasps. Sprites leaned towards me, their eyes wide, so many emotions growing behind the shock on their faces. Worluk's antennae perked up as she listened. Obviously, she knew that I knew who she was. But I don't think she knew what I was doing. She looked less angry and more curious -- maybe she was curious to see if I'd be dumb enough to try to accuse her.

When Clyde came to his senses, he asked me worriedly, "Have you told the Surge Protector about this, Mavis?"

"Well… yeah, I did eventually," I told him. "But not ‘til a couple weeks ago. Right after the attack, he helped me across Game Central, but I just-- I couldn't talk about it then. It was weird."

Before I could continue, a little sprite with lavender vibes interrupted, quivering in alarm, "Wait, wait, I think I saw-- I saw you! With Surge! And your shirt was all--"

"Yep."

"You mean, that was when you’d been--"

I nodded and swallowed. "Yep. Sure was."

"Oh no," the little sprite put their hands near their mouth and looked at everyone. "I saw her, everyone, she looked awful. She could barely walk. Her-- her legs were bleeding!"

"Actually," someone else added, "I remember seeing her, too. I just-- I didn’t look too close 'cause there was so much blood on her face…"

I felt myself going red. It was embarrassing to have them remember just how awful and abused I looked. But it felt like the point of the program was to get used to embarrassing myself, so I tried to take it as a good thing. 

"What did Surge say?" Clyde asked.

"Well,” I said with a defeated laugh, “he said there was nothing he could do. I have no evidence. I don't know who it was. I didn't even see them. I was blindfolded and tied up."

So many horrified eyes were fixed on me. I glanced at Worluk just for a moment, and saw just the slightest hint of nerves in her body language. She was glancing around just a bit more than usual. I figured she would never get my point if she got too defensive, so I decided to cut to the chase.

“Look, settle down, everybody, okay?” I put my hands up with a half-smile. “I’m okay. I mean, I’m here, right? And I’m not here to give anyone nightmares with the details. I just wanted to get that off my chest, because I’d been keeping it to myself for so long. It was one of the big reasons I got into GC. I wanted to drown out the memory. I’m not even totally sure why I didn’t tell anybody. I think… maybe I didn’t wanna seem weak. Or something like that.”

“How could that make you weak?” The lavender sprite asked. “You’re incredibly strong to have survived that.” 

My ears felt hot. I didn’t know what to do with that. “Uh… thanks. The thing is -- and this has puzzled me ever since it happened -- whoever did it… they left me alive. I was totally at their mercy, but they left me alive. For a while, I sort of thought that they might have done it to be cruel. Leave me alive and humiliated. Let the fear consume me ‘til I’d corrupted myself on buffs. Let me tell you, what they did to me screwed me up real bad. It ended up in all my bad trips in one way or another. And I spent many a sleepless night just imagining what I’d do to this sprite if I met them. The revenge I’d take for all they put me through.”

Worluk was watching me dead on for what may have been the first time. I hated admitting that she had made such a significant impression on me, but I tried not to return her gaze too obviously or tense up under her scrutinizing glare.

“But nearly dying of corruption, and blacking out and nearly burning down Tapper’s, it, uh… it put a lot of things in perspective, y’know. ‘Cause, uh… my attacker -- well, attackers, there were actually four sprites there, but the ringleader -- I never did get to see her. But I heard her, and I could tell… she was definitely high.”

Soft gasps. Solemn nods.

“And I’ve sorta realized how lucky I am to be here now. Not just to be alive, but to be getting help. Because really, there’s no denying that I could have gone down that same road if I had more time. And with that, y’know, I wonder… would revenge even make me happy now? Now that I know it could’ve been me? Now that I know how similar she was to me?”

I chanced a glance. Worluk was frozen stiff, her expression intense but unreadable. My words were making an impression. Good or bad, they were doing something to her. An encouraging rush of adrenaline coursed through my body. Don’t stop now, it told me. 

Finish it.

“I never understood why she left me alive, but I think I get it now,” I indirectly spoke to her, my heart pounding. “She’s not a nightmarish monster, she’s just a sprite. A sprite who, when it comes down to it, knows the difference between right and wrong. Who knows that killing me would not actually make her happy. She must have realized that we’re not so different. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be alive right now. Buffs make monsters of all of us. But I can’t condemn her for that, not without condemning myself, too. Wherever she is, she’s not beyond redemption. And neither am I.”

“YOU DON’T DESERVE REDEMPTION!!”

The whole room jumped out of its pixels, and everyone was upright in an instant, reacting to the screeching bug that had leapt to her feet, her yellow wings spread out and quivering with rage. She screamed in a voice that was suddenly far closer to how I remembered her:

“I LEFT YOU ALIVE BECAUSE THE BOYS BEGGED ME TO, NOT BECAUSE YOU DESERVED TO LIVE!”

Well.

All bets were off.

My first instinct was to fight. She was threatening me. Challenging me. Surely, she was about to dive right into me and we would lock into our fated fight to the death, just like I thought we would from day one. But as my hand snapped to the empty space at my hip where my brush would be, my path to her was suddenly blocked. A few other members had stepped in front of me. It took me just a second to realize that they were not barring me from her. 

They were barring her from me.

I’ve felt alone to many varying, crushing degrees in this story, regardless of who was actually there for me. I’m not sure why, but that split-second moment when those sprites stepped in front of me was when I realized I wasn’t alone. I had never been alone. The thought that everyone in the arcade wanted me dead was never true. There were always allies waiting for me.

I had barely a moment to process that.

That was also the moment when the big, buff security guards leapt into action. Two of them were upon her immediately, gripping onto her arms and wings as she thrashed and buzzed. The third guard disappeared entirely, surely out to call the Surge Protector.

Voice deep with horror and disbelief, Clyde called out to her, “Worluk… You’re not really saying--?!”

“YES,” she snapped, “I’m SAYING. Don’t lie and tell me none of you ever thought to do the exact same thing! How can any of you say you trust this lying glitch?! You know she was in on the Roadblasters attack -- she even went all Turbo on Tapper’s, for Pong’s sake!”

A couple of voices came to my defense. I think they said that Tapper’s was a buff-related accident. That Worluk had no proof of my involvement in the Roadblasters incident. That I was just as much a victim as anybody.

I barely heard any of it. All I could hear, echoing again and again, drowning out all coherent thought, was your name said in her voice.

I wanted to push through everyone and rip out her tongue. I wanted to snap off her mandibles. I wanted to mangle her vocal cords just for thinking for one second that she deserved to say your name.

I didn’t do that. I stood there, breathing hard, flames roaring in my belly until I finally shouted the question I’d wanted to ask since the night of the attack.

“Why the HELL would I be in on it?!” 

Everyone’s gaze turned to me. I was shaking, on the verge of tears from pure, raw emotion. Hearing that bug’s horribly familiar screams brought back harrowing flashes of the emotions and sensations I felt the day she tortured me. I felt that fear and helplessness once again, and that fact kicked up seething, scorching rage. I would not be her victim again. I locked eyes with Worluk, sharpened my voice to a deadly point, and demanded, “Why would I help my best friend kill himself?!”

She gave a single, ugly, humorless laugh. “He didn’t kill himself. You just didn’t save him. The plan went sideways, and you failed.”

I shook with so much fury, I felt like I was going to burst out of my own skin. I could barely stand to stay in one spot, twitching and tensing with animal rage. My allies started to lift their hands, trying to keep me under control and preparing to try to catch me if I leapt over them, which I was dying to do. “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT, YOU SCUM-SUCKING BIT-BAG?! WHAT DO YOU CARE?! YOU DON’T CARE! YOU DON’T KNOW ME -- YOU DIDN’T KNOW EITHER OF US! YOU’RE JUST SOME SADISTIC FREAK WHO NEEDED SOME FRESH GORE TO GET OFF ON!”

“I CARE,” she roared back, fighting against the security guards’ arms, tendons in her neck straining as she threw herself into her wet, hissing screams, “BECAUSE I WATCHED YOU LEAP RIGHT OVER MY SISTER’S BURNING BODY JUST TO SAVE A MURDERER -- AND YOU COULDN’T EVEN DO THAT!” 

That threw me. I blinked hard. “Your sister?! What sister?! What are you talking about?!”

“YEAH, MY SISTER! HER NAME WAS GARWOR! SHE WAS SWEET AND INNOCENT AND YOU COULD’VE SAVED HER, BUT NO, YOU WANTED TO SAVE THE MONSTER THAT STARTED THE FIRE IN THE FIRST PLACE! YOU REALLY WANNA LIVE, KNOWING THAT? IF I KILLED YOU, IT WOULD’VE BEEN A MERCY! I WOULD’VE SAVED YOU FROM YOUR OWN FILTHY, PATHETIC EXISTENCE!”

I didn’t understand. She had to be lying. 

But the massive memory gap concerning the time of the Roadblasters incident scratched and dug at my brain. I still didn’t remember that day. But from the stories I’d gathered, there was a blast. There was fire. Always with the fire. It felt like her words were sharp fingers digging into my brain and trying to forcefully uproot my mind. A sharp, pounding headache hit my skull, and I couldn’t speak. 

Before I could manage a response, Surge materialized in the room with a flash of static.

“Alright, alright now,” he said firmly, standing between Worluk and the group and holding a hand up to both sides. “Someone better tell me what’s going on here.”

“Gladly,” Worluk answered without hesitation. “Surge, I confess to the attempted murder of that scrawny waste of pixels over there named Make-it Mavis.”

Surge stood a bit straighter. He seemed surprised at how easy that was. “Is that right?”

“That’s right. I’d rather quit this stinkin’ program and be locked up for life than sit in here and have to pretend she and I are the same for a second longer.”

And, amazingly… that was it. I wish that I had said something more. Anything, really. Just to have the last word. But life doesn’t always work out that way. My head was so muddied up with the explosive stress of the encounter, I could barely speak.

Surge took the confession as the proof I wasn’t able to give him, and he cuffed her, and recited her sentence and rights to her as he and a guard escorted her out of the room and out of sight. To say everyone was shaken would have been an understatement. A couple sprites cried. One nearly had a panic attack and needed to be calmed down. No one came into the meeting that night expecting such a harrowing confrontation. Not even me.

I had come into the program wishing so badly that I could get rid of Worluk. Then, almost the second I convinced myself to live and let live, she got rid of herself for me. I think we really were very similar, in the end. I very easily could have left the program in a similarly explosive fashion. But the only difference between us was that I chose to do better.

I think that was really the moment that sealed my faith in the ‘colors’ idea. It really did come down to choice. She chose to give up.

And I could choose to heal.

That was my surrender. That was step three.

But at the end of that session, I was raw. I was fragile. I felt terribly sick. I made sure to thank everyone for defending me. It really did mean a lot. But I told everyone I’d take a session or two off just to rest and recover. They all understood, of course. A couple others even said the same. But we’d all be back, we promised.

I just had a lot to process.

#fanfiction #fanfic #wreck it ralph #make it mavis #original character #turbo #homesick

[huadie]

anchor liveblog post.

the curse of prophecy: all of my high tier kins channel tmg.

" somebody’s gonna get hurt / i hope it’s not me / but i suspect it’s going to have to be.

---

episodes 1-3: the general doesn't deserve the sympathy he gets. i'm not excusing a woman who killed happy girls on their wedding days, but i do think he owed her that closure. sending his son just pits the burden onto someone who wasn't involved. he should look his failures and mistakes in the eyes. if you can't count on a god to do that, who can you expect it of? it's disgusting. / i feel so tired and sorry for the girl who died saving a man who hated her and hurt her friend. i don't think kind people should be on the hook for ignorance and spite so willingly. her life for his was an unfair trade. / He's Cute. and wildly unexpectedly gentle considering the whole "demon" thing. / b tells me i'll have kin ptsd about the face disorder, but right now it's just heartbreaking. nobody deserves to live with that kind of fear. nobody deserves to live with that kind of pain. / b also implies someone in heaven is doing it to them for fun and i just want to say right now that i'm going to pull his dick off thru his mouth. that's a tier of evil that should have your blood start boiling inside you in an attempt to disinfect it. that was a child. that was just a scared little boy. not a prop or a toy or a plot device. a child. / i like the baby generals. they are so nineteen but it's nice to see it. i know anime leans on comedy skits a lot, but they can carry it off. they're charming. / heaven looks a bit shit. all of that meditation and betterment and it just makes you a spineless politician with the power to airbend? christ on a bike.

---

episode 4-5: initial reactions. watching him swing between fuck-me eyes and genuine emotional distress at no signal i can see is a lot. he's a good painter. i think i get the gist of where he's coming from but it feels insane to me. the twitch duels were cute. he clearly cares a lot more than he enjoys devilry so it's insane to me that he's that strong. general jr destroys me. imagine being so pompous and negligent you'd give your child your name. has he ever been allowed to be his own person? meow meow etc. the face disease is horrific. he was just a kid. he was so scared and in pain. i like the temple. i like that it's raggedy and messy. maybe it should be over-repaired, so people in need can take from it? it's definitely not very reverant, but. gods should serve their people. quotes all of small gods here etc. they should want to serve their people. they should be happy to see their temples valued below human life. it would be nice to live in a ghibli film forever, and read books and cook warm food and paint.

episodes ???. thoughts said out loud. gods own their people. thousands, one, here and now you are alive. gods are owned by their people. it's a cage. it's the most beautiful cage possible. to feed starving people from your hands. the bread and the fishes cut out of you. to give and give and give, to be asked for things you have never had and give them next. each prayer should strip you to the bone. can you imagine? to be so trusted, so cared for, so beloved, so followed, to have so much given to you freely and happily. a live lived to save others is the only beautiful thing. the only beautiful thing! a god should be owned by each of their believers individually. selfishly and shallowly and demandingly. like a child needs you. the power to put a fish back in the water is a blessing so heavy thinking about being created for it should make you wail. to be - for people, for the birds and the trees and the fish too, but for the people. it should break your heart. you should never let it become monotone. sunlight into wine.

on love: i trust b. i trust b. to love him here like this and love him in this skin and then find him again in a book and on a screen and fall in love with him there too, to watch myself fall in love with him too. nobody has ever earned what he freely gives. i want to give it back. oxygen to dioxide, i want to find all the places he stands and pour it back into him. i want to show him how beautiful he is. to love someone like that is a miracle and i want to pull it apart. i want to make him familiar with me and bored of me, i want him to wake up each morning taking me for granted, i want him to be so safe and secure in his place in my heart that it stops being a gift. that it wears down and falls apart. the velveteen rabbit. i want to hold him in my hands like a bubble that hasn't popped and i want to use him like the doorway to a world where even if i had to hurt and be hurt and fall and learn to grow, i can come home at the end of it. my growth can mean something, my stronger back can bear more weight, my lessons can be shared. i want it to mean something. i want to have faith in myself again. in the resurrected kingdom of his arms i can find it - build it. i can come home. it can have turned to gold while i did not see it. it can have worth, i can have worth, i can bend and not break. i can have a claim on things without losing them, without it cursing them. just him. i'm not greedy, i'm not selfish, so please - just him.

episode 6: there's something that hurts about letting other people see what you'll tolerate. what you'll do. the places in your life where you have pathetic history and where you are attempting to be someone who only existed today grinding against one another. i know he knows. i know it isn't a stolen moment, a chance to decide how i exist to someone before they decide it for me. i sleep beneath that painting and whenever i wake up in the night i feel him pretend that he is asleep. i know. i know. but it could have - it could have been. it could have been a lie that i got to play with. a tiny self indulgence. aren't you tired of stars? aren't you tired of being the tree that cannot bend in a storm? of holding yourself down? everyone else does it so easily. everyone else lets go. everyone else knows how. if i can't learn then i want to pretend. i want to be unwanted, and - and meet people. by chance, just chance, and like them and have them like me. no promises i made before i learned i couldn't keep them. just... something smaller. i talked about multiverse theory. how it isn't in the coin flip, but the atoms of the coin. how in one dot you can know everything. every grain of sand in a desert. i cannot survive existing with people thinking of me. not well and not poorly. i want to disappear into it. maybe nobody else is obligated to finish the work. maybe their contributions are a blessing. but i can't... learn how to let it go. it's all i have left in me that i recognize, somedays, as it gathers dust and makes me sick to breathe around. what am i if i am not that? i want to know. i'm scared to know. i will never be allowed to find out.

on being loved: god. it is too much. i don't hate it. it doesn't disgust me. but i feel like a plate being washed in every inch of the sea before i am allowed to see dry land again. i feel like i won't survive it if i look at it because it is a mosque decorated in mirrors, because it is mathematically perfect, because it holds the tiny miracles of angles and existence and light on par with the miracles of human heart and existence, because to make at all is to change the world for the first time, because i do not want to see what it reflects. i do not want to see it. i would be better if it lied to itself, if it was delusional and selfish and obsessed with smoke tricks. if it saw silk and paint and stopped looking. i don't want to know what i look like with my hair down, with my face clean, with my feet dirty, with my hands raw - i don't want to see what it sees to know that it loves there too. i don't want to follow it. i don't know how to make it stop. how could i - how could anyone be held accountable for this? to this? to prayers and plans and a kindness that changes the world in every grain of sand it has and again the next second, how could anything be worth this? and if it could - it couldn't be me. not a collection of stupid wishes and failures and betrayals-by-failure. not me with my hair down. silk could be worth this.

on being loved now that it isn't the middle of the night, and my body isn't betraying us both, and i can remember that there are an infinite number of steps between 0 and 1: but really, it's just ink. just paper. if it's - if he. if it's everything. if it's everything. then it can be one thing. it can be this thing. it can be the blindness. it can be me with my own hands over my own eyes like a shutterbox pretending i don't know how to see myself and admit that the pea beneath my mattress only hurts me - that it's small, to him, that it isn't sharp, that it's a phantom limb i can't stop being tormented by and only ever that. can that be enough to start? can i let it? it's atoms again. grains of sand. if he can love this, he can love everything. if i can see this, the rest falls away. there are more universes where we are kissing than every atom from the start to the end of time. that's how it works. i'm going in circles. you don't mind, do you? i'm writing this for you. you're the only person reading this. i don't know why i'm being impersonal about you when i'm being possessive about me. it won't protect me. it won't make it less terrifying to think of, and it won't make it less painful for you to read. i know you're already mad at yourself for being too much. for making me think that it's too much. you're kind to me like that, even when things are my fault. but if we can sit here together, and i can know that you know i can't imagine being loved, and that that - that moment, that dot, me unable to count to the place where numbers end - is something you love too. if i can just see this one moment, and not doubt it or question it or be afraid of it. it can be enough. because you know how hard i'm working to get to even this first step. you know how hard i'm working. you know how scared i am. you know it isn't you. you'll wait for me, with me, and you won't hate me for it. you promised.

on being forgiven: i don't know how to do it for myself. i don't know how to blame people for what they do to me unless it's the most extreme circumstance. i forgive too much that shouldn't be and hold ignorance and spite against others long past when it's fair. i handwave any scar someone gave me while they were suffering and never let go of what they do to others. i don't know what makes it different when it's me. i guess i know how to forgive myself for being scared and lost and for making bad decisions under the influence of... whatever... but not lazy cruelty. not letting something bad happen because i felt like it. all i do now is watch. all i do is let things slide past me again and again and again and do nothing to help and it can't matter that my heart breaks about it when theirs don't if none of us get up, and i remind myself that small steps do more than a single leap that uses me up but it's so hard to believe that here and now in the world where i could die if i tried again and harder still to comprehend in a world where 800 years of lives were made and suffered through and lost and i did nothing that matters to help. maybe all of the horrible backstory parts you're so scared of me seeing will be ones where i could do something, where i could climb up and let everyone take a raw bite out of me and go without starving for just one day, and then this won't cut me up inside like i swallowed a hedgehog. some days i am the hedgehog. trapped inside me, unable to stop being something that cuts to have there, unable to get away. i don't know how you can forgive me. i don't even know if you know what i need forgiving for. if i apologize for saving your life - for coming back to you again and again and again and being so selfish and. i don't know. for being me, while you try to love me, instead of being the person i can't forgive myself for not being, who deserves to be loved by you like this. but you'll forgive me. how do you do it? how do you stand it? i'm jealous of you. of how easy your heart warms up. of how kind you are.

kosmi 1-6 rewatch: i dislike pei su less now that i can see him as a person with a horrific job and less as a vehicle for the lies i know pei ming told about every woman he ever used and threw away. "i burned the scroll and won the war on my own" yeah right. gotta get that out first before i start collecting my thoughts. um.

one: the ascention, the earthquakes, (all that fuss for a scrap god. you told me the order it went in, when i asked, and i still think it's funny in a way that validates what i've been saying for something only the most in-need ask for help with to rattle the bells from warlord's palaces. they aren't ignorable. more than - more than anything else, anything before, i can be proud of this. i can be proud of myself for this.) i hate the way people look at you like you're infected with something because they can't play pretend that their inaction isn't malice any more. the bets and jokes and sneers. what have you done, lately? what help have you given? what good are you? and then there's me: starting as ever in unfixable debt, anchoring desperately to simple kindnesses, too tired to do more than smile. it's not worth it. it's never worth it. (being loved and losing it is worse than never knowing. being able to love yourself and losing it is worse than that.) the way that heaven sits unfixable and unchanging and incompetent. i'm proud of them for making something of their futures. i am. i don't begrudge them anything. i trust their character and i trust them to try to do the right thing for the people. i'm glad they didn't fight hua cheng. the kids are sweet. they're little carbon copies of their generals. it's sweet. it's kind. i like how... okay, they're mean and short tempered and fight like cats in a bag, but it's just the way you are at that age. it's not personal. it's easier to stand. i know there's gender coding tm in the novel, but i hate man-in-a-dress gags that point out that the man looks bad in a dress. i thought it was fine.

one point five: ok. i'll talk about it. the butterflies on the dress, the gentle music, the way our colours matched, the way your hand felt in mine. the sound of rain. i didn't know people could be so gentle. i didn't know they knew how. i think it was better for my health, before, when i assumed the best i ever saw was the best people were capable of. worse for me, though, to believe that. i'd forgotten what it was like to see myself in someone else's eyes as welcome.

zero point five: flashback sequence goes here. of course i remember what it was like to be loved, and work towards a clear goal that helped people. of course i remember what it was like to have a home that loved me back. he looked so scared as he fell. he looked terrified. i don't... i'm not good. at hating people. when i know everyone is driven to where they arrive in some degree or other. but that - whatever the reason they think they had, it isn't enough. it couldn't ever be enough. i hate seeing the human face disease. i hate how scared they are. how obviously in pain they are. i know they can't have survived. but i wish they could. i would give anything if they could. i would give anything up for it. have i talked about responsibility enough that this isn't a surprise yet? nobody should be that scared. nobody should suffer who hasn't chosen it to protect others. nobody should have to choose it, either, but if heaven has already failed you -

two: i hate that bald man. i hate watching that poor freckled girl throw herself on him again and again to save him just because he's human, while he takes every turn to re-learn hate and jealousy and hurt others. when he talks to his friends he almost humanizes himself, and i hope the time he spends as a crab fixes the rest. i truly do. but god i hate to see it. i hate being unable to do anything, because she chose it, because she knows him more than me, because her heart is kind enough to reach out to him even as it betrays and abandons the people in-need who can only go to her for help. you have to triage need. a life lived with the intent to harm others cannot come before a life lived with the intent to help, or to simply survive. anyway. the concern i get shown whenever i talk about the butterfly ghost is so charming.

three: i hate pei ming. his story is shallow and self-praising, his jilted lover competent and proud before he cured her of that with a kiss. i don't believe she broke her legs. i don't believe he passed over the chance to shortcut his way into glory. am i supposed to believe women just act like that? they just break their own knees for attention? she destroyed herself for him and he can't even pretend to care. not even at the end. not even to lie, and let her move on. so, what? thirteen girls die terrified and alone on the happiest day of their lives (- and we know it was happy for them, we know they went smiling up the path, we know they were excited) because he didn't have the stamnia to apologise to one person he hurt? i hate him. i hate his name, i hate his family, i hate his legacy of butchers, i hate his cowardice in sending pei su to grind out his cover story and then hide his mistakes where he doesn't have to look. i hate him. / i feel. so bad for that boy. he was so scared. do you know how scared you have to be to take scissors to yourself? i do. i have, literally, in the last year, actually. and that was... one cut. to avoid the risk of infection. sleeping on a wound that screams at you? he was a child. he was just a child. i let him down. there's no excuse. he needed reassurance. he needed protecting. i let him down.

four: i like that shrine. i like making it, owning it, doing something meaningful. i think a shrine for scrap should be made of more materials than it needs. i think it should be a place to sleep, always, and a place to eat, and you should be able to strip the roof if you need to. i don't care about what is proper, or respectful. respect the god of scavenger birds by surviving at any cost. by using what is useful. by taking what is free. i can build it again. if i know - if i can believe one good thing about myself, it's that i can build it again. as many times as it takes. i won't wear out. i won't give up. i can build it again. and how lucky, this time, to have help. there are so many things i can't do, even now. i need to learn. i never even thought about it until i saw that door. too long alone in my own head. too many years spent without it feeling worth the effort when a band-aid would hold.

four point five: again, ok, fine. i'll talk about it. you're beautiful. your eyes are like starlight, your smile is the warmest thing i've ever seen, your hands should be buried in an instrument, your painting is beautiful, your laugh is endearing - what do you want from me, here? of course i was looking. it's different to look now with your hand in mine than it was, then, to look just to look. to count threads just to count. to run my fingers through your hair and across your palm just to touch something. of course i knew. who wouldn't know you? who couldn't tell? but then, what was i going to do? know it? say it? ask things? better to be stupid, and naive, and find out what knife is waiting for me when it happens. i'm tired of speeding through the sweet moments to get to the next blade. i'm tired of being pushed from place to place. i'm tired of being alone. wasn't it fun? didn't we have fun? didn't you like talking together and cooking together and waking up in the morning in an empty shrine with the promise of another day to fill it? do i have to scream and shout and be suspicious and accuse you of - what! of holding my hand? of helping me? of being the exact same as everyone in heaven still deigning to look at me and thinking of me only as a tool to an end in a plan that will hurt people who did nothing wrong but pray? what can the harvest hope for if not the care of the reaper man? if it's - it always hurts. it always hurts. if it's going to hurt. why shouldn't it be kind first? why shouldn't i play stupid and keep you close and be usable without a heart left in me to break? why shouldn't i enjoy it for what it is, if it's all a lie? better me than someone who would be hurt by it. you're smart, and easy to talk to, and you're helping. you can't unbuild that door. unsweep the entryway. you can't undo the physical evidence of when you were kind. that's enough. that's all i can ever ask of people.

four point now: yes i know you wouldn't, now, i know you now, i don't need to gamble. i know you'd build a thousand doors. i know there's no trick. i know that it's safe. i know that i could have accused you and screamed and bit you and nothing would have made a difference and you still would have been kind. i know. i promise i know. i just... have to say where it was before. i have to tell you how important that kindness was, and how much i was willing to be kind to my own self to keep it near me. you understand what i mean, right? the tiny unforgivable act of making a mistake that could only hurt me? i know, i know. cocky to assume it would just be me hurt. but - if i was right to hope for nothing, i would make sure of that. i would make sure of it. i would do what i needed to to make sure only i was hurt for my selfishness.

five: i hate that we built a shrine and the next day something like that waltzed in. now we have to clean again. (i said in the stream, how funny it was to run that only survivor scam, how quickly it falls apart if you've ever seen real suffering, if you know what a survival rate is.) the rest i don't remember. i like working as a team. i like how much the kids hate you. they can tell too. i don't know what they see. but they worry about me. why do they worry so much? do their generals have something invested in me? are they just trying to do what they can now, and my caring for them isn't a one-way road? do you look that sketchy?

six: talking about the plot? in a sandstorm? no. you should keep my hat on. you look so sweet and cute and shy in it. i love the way you crumple when you aren't at the wheel, when an interaction happens without your instigation. maybe i'm not the only one bad at taking kindness. maybe i should offer it to you more often. you smell nice. like hot clay and silk. it's subtle. is that a ghost king thing, or is it just you? i like it. i can't imagine what i smell like. i hope... lillies and cotton. something soft. i'll ask you one day. i'm not surprised you were the most solid thing in a storm. i won't be surprised if you keep being that. i should have let you catch me. i should have dragged you with me. are you immune to it? could you stop it? would you pretend to be as useless and helpless as i am? i want to keep putting you in situations in disguise just to see what you do. it's fun! it probably shouldn't be, and i'm sure i'm setting myself up for a public shriving the more it becomes obvious who you are and how much i depend on you, but. i don't care. if i suffer for it, so what? what difference will that make? what could one more condemnation possibly do?

six point five: i like seeing sqx. i still read that as squeeks. i like seeing squeeks. i like sharing this with teddy. i like knowing that the way we are together can translate to here. i like how kind he is to me, and how funny, and sweet. i want to see him be happy. i want to see him be happy even though i know enough to infer it won't last. i know you love me with the power of a thousand angry wasp queens but it's nice to just sit next to him and joke with him and pretend for a little bit that i got to do this all the time. that i spent all my years drinking honey and rosewater and laughing with him, that things were as kind and easy as they're allowed to be. it's cute when i say he has a moral code and he gets offended. it's cute when i say he's a bitch and he gets offended. i like the way it makes all three of us laugh. i like seeing a place in my heaven where you could be. i don't want you to give up what you built. you built it because you had to. but when i'm sitting with my head on his shoulder, it's a window to that place where heaven exists to help people, where none of us ever had to learn what misery really was.

what power obliges from you: action. movement, always. there is no down time, no sleep, no rest, no running. if you seek people out to rule them - and that is what ascention is, seeking to rule, to tie your survival to your treatment of them - then you cannot do it with force and with ignorance and with the desire to coast. like. i'm not stupid. i know men do. for centuries and centuries with no repercussions, until the king on the rope for his people is as far related to the man who razed their lands as i am, (but inheriting evil is a choice too). i know how easy it is to punish and hurt and demand. how easy it is to hold people for ransom. but that isn't... that isn't power. that isn't kinghood or godhood or divine right. it's worthless. it's the other end of a sword. it kills you both to use. there's no light left in the world, no wonder, no chance to be saved by others so long as you are the thing that keeps you both drowning. you should wake up in the middle of the night for them without being asked. you should bleed for them without being asked. you should be ready to die for them without them ever knowing. even at their worst. at their most entitled, afraid, undignified, ignorant - if they are those things, the blame falls on you. if you are voted in democratically or born to the monarchy and not hanged in the streets it is the same either way: the people have chosen, they are asking you for something, and if you live in their gold and silk and sing their songs instead of smashing your own head in with a rock then you have agreed to the terms. why would anyone be unwilling to do that? afraid to do that? if you can do even a little bit more than someone else they are owed half of the excess. you cannot live in the world alone. you must not live in the world alone. ask the people above you to bleed for you and the people below you for nothing. there is no hierarchy beyond "i can help you" and "please help me" and there is no meaning beyond it either. every day it is hard to remember this but you have to, both parts, without losing either. why wouldn't anyone want this? what else is there to strive for but to better help others, to be someone with an abundance to share, to be used like that for the survival of everyone. isn't that happiness? to be as connected to everyone around you as a river is? to give water and fruit and blessings and promises and safety and shelter? you can seek power without understanding that it is only deeper service, but you will never do anything worthwhile with it. the gold will rot with your corpse. we find immortality in one another, and the celebration of giving more.

???: i saw a video of someone opening their back gate onto a meadow of the same single flower. it was beautiful. that's what it feels like when i catch you looking at me. we could grow flowers, couldn't we? we could plan a garden? i don't want to see myself fall and fail twice at least, or fight a war, without something kind at the end. i want you to tell me there's a way to still be like this - repairing doors, eating small meals, sleeping in warm air - after all of that is done. i want to build something selfish and self-sufficient together. i know we already are. in the things we talk about the jokes we make at my own expense whenever further plot implies at me. and in how excited i was to find out that the word for butterfly was this one. but i want to make things with our hands again.

episode 7: well. i'm glad it was me.

episode 7 (a day later): i'm still glad it was me. i'm proud of the kids for how brave they are, proud of that general for saving lives every time - and god, it was so funny sitting there in a circle of contempt for him, touching a gravestone people had hand cut and hauled up the mountain and carefully ingraved with their thanks, thinking about how loved and how much gratitude he must have died surrounded by. thank you for making them treat it with respect. thank you. he did his best. i'm almost jealous of it. imagine how nice it would be to help people, and have them see that you helped them, and be happy about it, and think kindly of you. i'm glad that you understood how important his actions were. i feel less alone when you're beside me on matters like that. anyway - i'm glad it was me. you're so bad at letting people care for you. i can tell you've been alone with only yourself to depend on for a long time. but your heart is so soft, you know? you don't even know it. you deserve to be protected. to be with people who want to protect you. it doesn't matter if you could have caught it in time, or survived a bite if you didn't - you should be able to think of yourself as precious to others. to me. i don't want to see you hurt. i don't ever want to take your hard-won strengths for granted. on the last day of earth, i want to move between you and danger as quickly and without apology as i did then. you're so easy to care for. do you know? and i'll be okay. i know you blame yourself for it because you said, because you're never gentle with yourself the way you are with me. but if you hadn't been there, i'm sure i would have stepped between someone else and that bite. i'm sure i would have forgotten again to grab the stinger i was just warning everyone about. you know what would change? if you hadn't been there, if you'd been a bit faster with your own defense, "if" "if" "if" - ? i wouldn't know there was a cure. i wouldn't know where to look for it, or be able to depend on someone helping me find it. that's the difference you made by being there. that's the only influence you had on me that day. you keep giving me the chance to survive my own mistakes. thank you. i can't promise we won't end up here again. i can't promise i won't keep trying to protect you. all i can do is hope that you know i don't mean it as a slight on your capabilities (it isn't! i just care about you. even the strongest man alive should be loved by people who want to shield him from danger) and that you don't get tired of me being so reckless.

#anchor.

[alysses123]

@homoeroticsubtextinspace made me do it

1. Do you ever doubt the existence of others than you?

Well now I do! But seriously, no not ever.

2. On a scale of 1-5, how afraid of the dark are you?

3 I’d say. Feel uneasy but not terrified

3. The person you would never want to meet?

Idk, no one in particular I guess

4. What is your favorite word?

In english I love arson, idk why. In french (my native language), couette

5. If you were a type of tree, what would you be?

I love oak trees but I’m not one, i’d say more of a plum tree

6. When you looked in the mirror this morning what was the first thing you thought?

Shit I messed up my eyeliner

7. What shirt are you wearing?

Simple black one with long sleeves

8. What do you label yourself as?

Small

9. Bright room or dark room?

Bright room! With sun! or plenty of lamps!

10. What were you doing at midnight last night?

Definitely sleeping!

11. Favorite age you’ve been so far?

8. I feel like all of my childhood happened when I was 8. 

12. Who told you they loved you last?

My boyfriend I think. We’re quite cheesy actually

13. Your worst enemy?

Capitalism and how it makes us feel bad for being human.

14. What is your current desktop picture?

It’s Mtg art! Slimefoot the stowaway! Loooove it so much!

15. Do you like someone?

Plenty of people! I like my friends, most of my family, my boyfriend, the cat at my place, random people...

16. The last song you listened to?

Honestly no idea

17. You can press a button that will make any one person explode. Who would you blow up?

I’d have said the orange blob but @homoeroticsubtextinspace said Bezos and honestly? Mood.

18. Who would you really like to just punch in the face?

Me personally I wouldn’t like punching someone. However I would love to see nazis punched in the face.

19. If anyone could be your slave for a day, who would it be and what would they have to do?

No slaves, bad thing to enslave people.

20. What is your best physical attribute? (showing said attribute is optional)

My hair! Love it! Especially when I dye it on shave it!

21. If you were the opposite sex for one day, what would you look like and what would you do?

I would look like a very average guy I think, Not short nor tall, a bit on the skinnier side, brown haired… Well like me but as a guy.

Idk. I guess I would want to have sex because it must feel different when you have a penis.

22. Do you have a secret talent? If yes, what is it?

Not really, I don’t want to hide my talents!

23. What is one unique thing you’re afraid of?

Slugs. Hate them.

24. You can only have one kind of sandwich. Every sandwich ingredient known to humankind is at your disposal.

Bread with some cereals, goat cheese, figs, honey, pepper. 

25. You just found $100! How are you going to spend it?

Buy useful stuff for our home. Maybe curtains.

26. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere in the world, but you have to leave immediately. Where are you going to go?

I don’t want to travel by plane! but I’d say Iceland, looks beautiful.

27. An angel appears out of Heaven and offers you a lifetime supply of the alcoholic beverage of your choice. “Be brand-specific” it says. Man! What are you gonna say about that? Even if you don’t drink booze there’s something you can figure out… so what’s it gonna be? 

Uuuuuuuuh…. Idk. I like infused rum so I’d say HSE.

28. You discover a beautiful island upon which you may build your own society. You make the rules. What is the first rule you put into place? 

Don’t hurt others.

29. What is your favorite expletive?

Fuck. I also use Putain in french but I don’t particularly use it

30. Your house is on fire, holy shit! You have just enough time to run in there and grab ONE inanimate object. Don’t worry, your loved ones and pets have already made it out safely. So what’s the one thing you’re going to save from that blazing inferno?

My teddy bear I think? Idk, I don’t have a lot of belongings so everything I have, I love and want to keep.

31. You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be?

I don’t think I’ve lived a horrible experience. bad ones but not horribles ones. 

32. You got kicked out of the country for being a time-traveling heathen who sleeps with celebrities and has super-powers. But check out this cool shit… you can move to anywhere else in the world!

Uh… weird question but honestly it doesn’t feel very me, so I wouldn’t want to move out of France.

33. The Celestial Gates Of Beyond have opened, much to your surprise because you didn’t think such a thing existed. Death appears. As it turns out, Death is actually a pretty cool entity, and happens to be in a fantastic mood. Death offers to return the friend/family-member/person/etc. of your choice to the living world. Who will you bring back?

I think the deads belong with Death, it’d fuck up ones brain to see someone who isn’t anymore.

34. What was your last dream about?

A coat. I want to make myself one soooo bad.But idk how I want it to be, so it’s hard.

35. Are you a good….[insert anything you’d like here]?

porcupine? No, I’m a terrible porcupine.

36. Have you ever been admitted to the hospital?

Yeah 2 times I’d say. Once I fell off a horse and once I fell of a playground trapeze.

37. Have you ever built a snowman?

Yes! I like it but it doesn’t snow enough :(

38. What is the color of your socks?

Brown, they are handknitted by a friend!

39. What type of music do you like?

here are some stuff i like: 

Uuuuuuuh rap, funk, I really like the Cure, Florence and the machine, Devo, les Wriggles, Renaud (his old stuff because the new stuff is… bad. Really bad.), Zebda, Diana Ross, Earth wind and fire...

40. Do you prefer sunrises or sunsets?

Sunrise! feels magical.

41. What is your favorite milkshake flavor?

I don’t really like milkshakes :/

42. What football team do you support?

None.

43. Do you have any scars?

A few. One on my cheeks looks really badass but it’s from my cat. One on my leg from when I fell off a bike. A few burn ones because I’m not careful around hot stuff, and my work involves hot irons. A new one from a dog bite. And three inked scars (okay, they’re tattoos but technically it’s a scar) 

44. What do you want to be when you graduate?

I graduated  a few weeks ago, so I’d say I want to work in my field. 

45. If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?

More confidence! That’s all n.n

46. Are you reliable?

I think I am.

47. If you could ask your future self one question, what would it be? 

Am I cringy rn?

48. Do you hold grudges?

I can put up with a lot, but when I decide I’m done, we’re done.

49. If you could breed two animals together to defy the laws of nature, what new animal would you create?

A cat and a shark! 

50. What is the most unusual conversation you’ve ever had?

I have no idea. 

51. Are you a good liar?

I have major anxiety if I don’t feel it’s the right thing to do but I think I can pull it off quite well, I’m a good actress.

52. How long could you go without talking? 

Talking? a day or two if there’s no one around, even though I’d probably start talking to myself. Expressing myself via text or something? A couple hours, not much more n.n

53. What has been you worst haircut/style?

Fringe. Very bad decision.

54. Have you ever baked your own cake?

Yes, of course.

55. Can you do any accents other than your own?

No, very bad at it.

56. What do you like on your toast?

Cheese

57. What is the last thing you drew a picture of?

pants. Ugly, it was to explain something.

58. What would be your dream car?

None, I don't like cars.

59. Do you sing in the shower? Or do anything unusual in the shower? Explain.

No, but after the shower, I need to get most of the water off my skin before using the towel. Otherwise the towel feels too wet.

60. Do you believe in aliens?

I think there’s very little chance we’re the only living (whatever that means) beings in the whole UNIVERSE. That shit’s big.

61. Do you often read your horoscope?

No. I say I don’t believe in astrology but I know a part of me is like “what if”, so I try not to feed it ;)

62. What is your favorite letter of the alphabet?

A because it’s the first letter of my name.

63. Which is cooler: dinosaurs or dragons?

Oh hard one! Dinosaurs are cooler as in 90’s style cool, dragons are cooler as in badass col.

64. What do you think about babies?

Ugh.

[delcat177]

Text in captions, if that won’t read on text to voice please let me know <3

This is a half-year old, but I only paid Blobs Magician to help me out once and I’m fresh out of delicately painted acorns and he gave me commission rights so I’ll be tipping him a ziploc bag of goldfish later

I feel awkward writing about all of this--there was a bit of jealousy when I got my hyst (not projecting, I was told flat by a trans friend), and I worry that I may be making other people feel alone, anxious, or less-than in their gender by talking about it.  If you feel that at all, please, stop right now.  Don’t look in the mirror, because mirrors are scary. Like, really scary, they have ghosts or stuff probably, but also in the genders sense, so instead, look in your head.   Look at your self.  It’s in there, because it is you.  What is happening to me now is a shell upgrade, a hermit crab moving domiciles.  I was a boy once, then a young man, then a oldman, and now I’m a oldman with a society man shell.  Never mistake the shell for the crab, go “hey crab, I like your shell, I hope you find the perfect shell, because you are the perfect inhabitant” and celebrate that crab.  Because we are all crabs, and we are all beautiful, and we all deserve the shells that reflect us as individuals, and anyone who says otherwise can fuck off into a spiny urchin bush and not have a shell.  Or.  Something.  Did I say I felt awkward?  I AM awkward.  But anyway, drive-in movie totals and such after cut, potential TMI, and protect yourself love yourself, you lovely crabs <333

 (with cut ‘cause longtext is looong)

(ORIGINAL POST)

Alt-text: I'm always the last one to know

so uh

I'm a blithe idiot and somehow never processed or dared to dream that this was possible

which makes the timeline look SPECTACULARLY dumb but I was going through SO MANY LIFESTYLE CHANGES

HYST DATE: SEPTEMBER 28, 2016

2017: Me: Man, living in the townhouse has really amped up my leg game, all that up and down stairs.

Me: I'm down ten pounds since the hyst! Megan: That's probably your natural weight. Me: That or getting there.  Not surprising, I'm not feeding the beast constantly.

Me: *punches Megan playfully in the arm* Megan: OW goddammit Del that hurt like SHIT! Me: oh my God I'm sorry I didn't mean to! Megan: It's okay, just be careful! Me: That's so weird I'm sorry D8

Me: man is it just me or am I good in bed lately? oh right I'm the only one here...I guess it's because I'm more confident?

Me: ghghjh my hair's thinning out at the temples, well been expecting that one for awhile, at least it waited for 30

2018:

Me: Holy shit, the stairs plus the shopping is paying off!  My thighs are HUGE!  I wonder if cracking a watermelon with these bad boys is hyperbole.  I bet I could though.  I BET.

Me: Down to 162 and holding, fuck you past doctors!  I just needed ENERGY goddammit!

Me: Wow, I've lost a lot of weight from my face especially.  That makes me super happy.  Anyway better pluck these stray hairs.  ...have I been yanking these more lately?  Getting old is weird.

Me: (struggling with shorts) Megan: Do you need a belt? Me: I'M WEARING A BELT (lifts shirt to reveal belt double wrapped around hips) Megan: Well then Me: I just need to buy new shorts, my ass is just GONE Megan: In the meantime maybe pay attention to what underwear you have on Me: yeah thank God for boxers

Me: My acne scars are heck of acting up.  I wish I hadn't picked at my face so much as a kid, I guess the pores are just kinda fucked, I've read about that happening.

2019:

Megan: New shorts look good Me: I am so bad at shopping Megan: At least you have them now Me: I'm an assless chap is all Megan: Go to bed Del Me: It's four in the afternoon

Me: My throat feels so *thick* lately.  I haven't been hitting the vape that often, why does it feel weird?  And why am I noticing my own voice more?  I NEVER notice my own voice, I make a point of it.  Am I subconsciously pitching it lower like I used to do talking on Skype because I'm more socially active?  What is my brain I'm so AWKWARD Me: UGH I'm falling back into derma habits, I haven't picked in my face in years, I think I need to change cleansers.  But...my face looks...good?  I guess I had this hiding under that baby fat all these years.  ...I guess? Me: Am I getting a hump from my bad computer posture?  Shit. Me: Oh no, it's not a hump, my shoulders are starting to put on muscle!  That's a relief.  That must be from the...laundry?  Carrying...laundry?

AUGUST 5, 2019: Me: (lying in bed) 2 + 2

Me: wait why am I putting on shoulder muscle now?  I've been doing laundry for years, and it's never done that.  And my legs didn't get this buff with a routine job where I was walking three hours a d--

Me:

AUGUST 14, 2019:

New Endocrinologist: We'll test your levels to make sure it isn't a pituitary gland issue or (some syndrome I've already forgotten the name of), and it could be because there's some small element of testosterone in the estrogen replacement, but the brain does produce androgens.  We can definitely look into switching you to T if you want, but if it's facial hair you're worried about...well, once the follicle is there, it's there.  These are irreversible changes.

Me: No on that then but irreversible,, like,, what I have now,, is forever,,,,,,,?

New Endocrinologist: Forever, and I would expect to continue to see muscle gains if you work out.

Me:

welcome to my second puberty please be aware it apparently involves as many mood swings as the first one but i'm tryin'

Since then, it’s been continuing confirm, confirm, confirm. 

My acne turned out to be little follicles growing in odd places--not fullblown hair, just enough to irritate the skin while it was developing. Tiny tufts of 1-3 entirely white, downy hairs have popped up in a few places on my breasts.  The real fuzz proliferation has been in the southern quarters--with all delicacy, there is no itch like the itch of hair beginning to grow anywhere sweat can proliferate, and I now understand why cis men scratch privates in public.  Having NOT gone through a unified social experience with a peer group accepting of such measures, I am sure there is footage on grocery store cams of someone with an agonized expression walking like he has a weasel down his pants and worrying that 30 is early for hemorrhoids.  Both have settled in for the most part, leaving me with a very fluffy, barely-there peach fuzz mustache that’s only noticeable in the right light, some spare hairs across my chin and neck that I keep in order, and a profound relief that I prefer boy shorts and swim trunks.

I went through a few weeks of being especially rank despite all the showering and was worried that was my new normal, but apparently T sweats be like that, and I’m back to smelling like...whatever I smell like, probably lavender with our fabric softener.  I experienced what I believed was a relapse a month later that turned out to be a false positive--specifically, our thermostat was slowly dying and frog-boiling us until it got hot enough that my sister also went “dear God it is a sauna in here”, leading to replacement of the faulty element and another notch in the “my life is dumb” bedpost.

My face bonebs, which I frankly expected the least out of (when I wasn’t expecting at all), have slowly but surely been rearranging, a visual effect doubled by the much faster redistribution of fat.  I honestly have no idea how this one works.  I know more about dead bonebs than live ones.  I would doubt it if I didn’t have pictures to back it up.  I would say it’s easier to look in the mirror now, but I already stated my opinion on mirrors, do it too much and a skeleton will pop out.  It WILL.  My brain tells me this and it is never wrong about fears and or phobias.  Don’t do it kids.

If there’s been a single most beautiful moment so far, it’s been getting back into Steven Universe after a long hiatus, opening my mouth to sing the opening like I did years ago, and realizing all at once that I was singing falsetto.  I ran it back, dropped a register, and the first names I sang became those who would believe in me most.  There were tears, and later, showing it off, there were fierce hugs.  (Yes, the first ep I watched once I realized was Stevonnie, and YES GARNET GOING “GO HAVE FUN” wah)

I can’t begin to express the validation--I am no gender essentialist’s data point, this is MY experience and no one else’s, but I keep going “my aunt had a hyst and didn’t transition and I had one and I am because my brain makes androgens my brain makes androgens MY BRAIN MAKES ANDROGENS IT HAS BEEN MAKING ANDROGENS ALL THIS TIME IT HAS BEEN TRYING” and living in that, living in “not even SCIENCE is against me”, which is a tremendous thing as a scientist.  (As a scientist, I would be a blithering dullard to claim this is the only thing that affects or proves my gender, and I do not.  Again, TERFs fuck off.  This is simply a very validating thing to me, personally, in my experience.  I’m not thrilled that I have to underline that this hard dammit internet.)

What lies ahead is...I don’t know!  I thought I was done changing, but the post I saw that nudged me to finally do this on here went “you may stop being able to cry for awhile” and this is Important because I have been trying to figure out if I have Sjogren’s but apparently I have androgens which is slightly easier to pronounce.  I’m not sure how I feel about that, because transitioning is a lot of “I’m not sure how I feel about this” and then things being okay.  I would definitely say that the more I learn, the easier it is to feel steady and normal, which is important because the mood swings have been REAL.  This is more than I asked for or bargained for, but I still only have one regret, and that’s that my hyst scars are just slightly asymmetrical and it Bothers Me, but even that is growing on me.

I don’t know how to end this post.  I love you all to death, and I hope if you’re seeking transition, you find it and twenty dollars, and if you’re not seeking transition, you still find twenty dollars.  Thank you so much for you and all you do and are.  Remember--you are great!

Unless you’re truscum.  Then this post isn’t for you (dammit Internet) and you can fall off a boardwalk onto a dead fish.  Have fun with that!

hekk

#trans #trans mtf #trans timeline #del is a trans guy #gender #gender* #blobs magician #i'm sorry this wasn't sooner i was shy aaaaa #you are all tock to me #and you are all wonderful crabs #let us go for a scuttle #longpost #long post #scrolling

[spirit-of-the-void]

Ebony and Ivory (V x Reader Fanfic) Chapter 26

Author’s notes: I changed my mind, take this long ass chapter today and revel in my suffering

Chapter 26

The moment between you and Nero didn’t last for long.

The cold, hard reality of the situation was settling in. You couldn’t afford to sit and do nothing, not with Vergil at the top of the Qliphoth. That numbness was absorbing back, mixing with the endless need to confront the man, to give him a piece of your mind. You needed closure, you needed something. In the hollow void V and his familiars had left in your soul, anger and bitterness were taking their place, mixing with grief and loneliness. To be cast aside again, after so many years of people walking away--it was soul-crushing. In that moment, everyone in the van seemed so distant, all the people who loved you like static. White noise.

Honestly...what purpose did you serve anymore? You were useless to everyone, the very one you loved leaving you and becoming someone who couldn’t even be bothered to look in your direction. What if the others were like that too? Doubt was becoming so loud, ringing in your ears and quieting your logic. There was only so much left that could be done, a limited amount of times one could be betrayed. It left lingering self-hatred, insecurities, exhaustion. At this point, after this many instances of this happening...maybe they weren’t the problem.

Maybe it was you.

And what a way to make yourself even more glum. The time had come to go full circle, landing on the final stage of the process--blaming yourself. A girl could only suffer so much before wanting to give up, before it all became to much. Blow after blow, tragedy after tragedy...maybe you really were destined to always fail, to never truly be happy? What a miserable existence that was. Had you been someone terrible in a past life, only to face endless torment as a result? Maybe this was your fault. You could have done better, could have done more to protect V. To stop all of this.

The very thought made you pull away from Nero, taking a step back and pressing a hand to your temple. You needed to go, to move. You would make it to the top of the Qliphoth, all the way up to Vergil even if you’d die trying. But...why? Why bother? You clearly weren’t here to change a damn thing, that much had been made very apparent. Wasted time and wasted effort, the Deity’s motives scattered and unclear. All you knew was that you needed to go, needed to try.

“I have to go,” You whispered aloud, turning away from Nero just as he moved to face you. Staring in the direction Dante had traveled, eyes glassy and body still feeling like it had been hit by a truck, “I need to go to the top of the Qliphoth.”

Your Foresight immediately flared up at that, sending agony rippling along every organ in a very firm “no”.

Nero echoed the sentiment, grabbing you by the wrist firmly as you started to walk slowly away, “Like hell…!” He snapped, tone harsher than he probably intended, “You’re at your limit! Just what the hell will going up to see him accomplish?”

How were you supposed to answer when you didn’t know yourself?

You shook your head, tugging on his hold and managing softly, “I don’t know. I just know I...I need to go.” That was why you had been sent here, wasn’t it? To find out who tipped the balance and deal out appropriate punishment. At least...that’s what you thought.

“I can’t just let you go up there and get killed,” Nero argued, exasperation creeping into his tone, eyes staring at you with unyielding stubbornness, “What the fuck do you have to gain? Seeing that bastard again is only going to make shit worse, he doesn't—“

“I know…!” You yelled in reply, the force in your voice shocking even you. Nero flinched, hesitation flickering in his eyes as he continued staring at your face--he released your arm at the very least. You knew what the boy was seeing, about a thousand emotions ripping you apart and threatening to claw their way out. What the fuck were you supposed to do, to say, to feel? It was barely containable, leaking into your voice and projecting it with far more velocity than you would prefer.

You quieted your tone, wrapping an arm around your abdomen and turning your head away, “I know...I...just have to go,” You started walking again, the pain in your stomach growing with every step as you gritted out, “I have a duty to see this through.”

If I don’t go, if I don’t try...then what was even the point of it all?

That made the white haired boy sigh, words sounding so heavy as he replied, “I’m so fucking tired of hearing that. You sound like V when you talk like--”

“Stop,” You cut him off, turning to hold up one hand and stopping his sentence in its tracks. Too much, too soon. You didn’t want to hear it, your poet’s name alone making your heart pound painfully faster, “Please...just...don’t say that.”

Don’t say his name, don’t make me think about him anymore.

“...Sorry,” Nero muttered, rubbing the back of his head and turning his eyes away. Oh yes, there was most certainly regret in those gray-blue orbs of his. You felt bad immediately for snapping, shoulders slumping down a bit as he continued, “I know it’s hard, trust me if anyone fucking knows right now...I do,” He looked at you again, expression pained as he met your gaze, “But you can’t do this to yourself, not like this.”

You looked down at the ground, eyes squeezing shut at the pleading edge to his tone. Nero was trying so hard, he was just worried about your well being. But...you weren’t, unable to care any less about what would happen. Even now it was hard to muster up any energy to listen to his reason, his logic. You were reluctant to say you didn’t trust Nero, because that wasn’t necessarily true. The demon hunter had done nothing wrong, he hadn’t hurt you or betrayed you. But...the doubts were so loud, and they were swallowing you whole.

Will you really let him take even more?

But even then...what remains now with him gone? You, a cursed soul born to bear only sorrow and pain...surely all you would do is bring them down.

You swallowed hard, tone low and weak as you replied, “This is something only I can do...there is nothing left for me here, Nero.”

His body jerked at that, eyes staring incredulously and jaw tightening.

“Bullshit!” He snapped, words taking on the edge of a razor as he took another step toward you, “You’re better than this--better than what he fucking did…!” He softened his tone, eyes pleading as he whispered, “Do you honestly think any one of us would walk away from you like that?”

Fuck, he almost sounded hurt, like he could sense the uncertainties floating around your brain. The ones involving him, the others, the only people in your life. And that alone made you crumble more, filled with guilt and more of that gut-wrenching pain. How could you explain to him what you were feeling, just how many times people had chosen to walk away, to not care? You kept your eyes downcast, a shaking hand rising to grip your blouse. It was an unbearable feeling, a cold one, to never be wanted or welcomed by anyone.

Even your parents didn’t want you.

Heaven didn’t want you.

And now the only man you loved didn’t want you.

So why don’t you just return to oblivion?

The Void’s incessant whispering made you groan, pressing your hands to your ears to try and block them out. Deafening, ear-splitting. Like they were shrieking instead of whispering. It was trying to feed into your doubts, coaxing you to return to the embrace of the Void once more. Returning meant sleeping again, and that meant...losing every memory you had here, every experience, touch, and affection. He would never let you continue on this broken, the pain already crushing you and making you lose focus.

And somehow, living without those memories seemed like a worse fate.

“YN?” Nero asked worriedly, seeing the distress in your expression and taking a step closer.

You immediately tread backwards, not wanting to risk him grabbing you again. If the devil hunter was to drag you out of the Qliphoth, he was sure to succeed with how weak you were. No more energy left but fumes, and even those were hard to direct with the Foresight battering you at every turn.

“I’m fine,” You gritted out, obviously a lie as you lowered your hands, “On this...I will not be swayed. I need to get this out of me, Nero, this...this feeling. And I can’t do that in any other way,” You lifted your eyes, staring at him with so much loneliness and exhaustion that it made him inhale sharply, “I have to go.”

Just let me go.

You don’t need me anyway.

You turned again, hair draping over your face as you headed in the direction Dante had gone. You couldn’t waste any more time, not like this. It was too much to handle any more--something about Nero trying and caring...it made you feel guilty, like you didn’t deserve it.

Let no one temper this pain with comfort. It is a reminder.

“This pain will remind me that I am alive,” You whispered, eyes staring numbly ahead as you fought agony in each step, “And I’ll take that punishment for my ignorance.”

You had done this, no one else. Holding in your questions, desires, and thoughts had only resulted in disaster. Not enough strength, not enough courage, not enough of anything. And that hesitation had lost you the one thing you loved the most. In that aspect, the Deity was correct--you were a fool to believe things could work out when you knew all along they were doomed. You ignored your own gut, ignored the truth hiding behind each question as an attempt to shield yourself from the oncoming disaster. But it still hit you, and wrecked everything it touched.

But something about what you said did not jive with the white-haired boy.

Nero let out a growl at your words, the sound of his footsteps rapidly coming closer echoing behind you as he warned, “What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Y/N, you can’t just--”

He was cut off by the Qliphoth starting to rumble, making you stumble forward and him back. You fell to your knees, definitely unable to stay steady on legs so weak. What the hell could possibly be happening now? The day carried enough excitement to last a lifetime. You braced yourself on one arm, a gasp of alarm leaving your mouth when debris started falling from the ceiling, landing behind you in hard cracks of sound. One after another, pieces of the floors above piled on top of each other in a wall of misshapen flesh and stone. Now that the fruit was gone, that Vergil had returned...the roots of the tree were falling to the Earth, losing its integrity.

Nero shouted your name, the sound drowned out by the crashing and banging filling the room. You barely heard him, squeezing your eyes shut and covering your ears. He could handle himself, that was for sure--fast enough to not get hit by anything. As for you...he debris was close, but only enough to settle some dust across your frame, on the dark tones of that blouse.  Coughs burst forth, shaking your chest and rattling the pain already settling inside.

You didn’t move until the collapse had settled, turning in worry to see if Nero was alright. The rubble had blocked you off from him, cut him off from the path entirely. It was almost...you shook your head, slowly dragging yourself into a standing position and turning away. There was no way any sort of fate was on your side, not now and not ever. But it was for the best that Nero would be forced to turn back--he deserved better than to deal with his father any more. Dante was going to...was Dante going to kill him? Nero shouldn’t have to see that, or play a part in it.

Maybe that’s why you have to go?

Because you don’t want that to happen, do you?

That set your teeth on edge, a painstaking breath dragged through your lips. You had to see him, you had to see with your own eyes if V was truly gone. Nothing more nothing less.

You started walking again, letting out a sigh of relief when you heard Nero’s voice on the other side of the rubble, loud and frustrated as he started to try to make a path.

“Y/N! God damn it, you can’t just go up there and get yourself killed…!” He yelled, voice muffled and hard to hear as you moved further and further away, “Come back, just head down to the van..! You…”

I’m sorry, Nero.

All that could be done now was to move forward in silence, passing up a narrow tunnel in the dying Qliphoth. You let out a slow, exhausted breath, dragging your feet with each footstep and biting on pain. When was the last time you had been this damaged, mentally or physically? Unconsciousness was a threatening force, growing every moment the Foresight battled your limbs. You felt bad for ditching Nero, especially when he was going through a hard time too. But...how could you possibly face any of them now, the girls in the van who treated you with such kindness? Did you even deserve it? You had no reason to believe things would ever work out anyway, it was meaningless to try.

All you could do was move. Move and pray your body could take it.

Would you fight Vergil at the top? Protect him? Cry? That was something that surprised you, the fact that no sobs had left your body yet. Only tears, those shattered gasps and sharp breathing. Had you truly cried yet, a full body cry of despair that would release every pent up emotion at once? No...and you got the feeling it would never come, not while you could hold it back. It had been close before, when you saw V crumbling for the first time, but even then...you were holding so much back. For years and years you held it in, held everything in. But now…

Now you felt too numb, too empty to even try.

Return, The Void whispers wouldn’t go away, continuing louder and louder with each step, Return to the Void. Return. RETURN.

Like hell. You weren’t returning, not now. You doubted ever. The Deity had betrayed your trust too, after all. The feeling of violation and fear had not left, lingering in all the tormented spaces between your thoughts. How could he do such a thing after all the years you spent following him, doing his bidding and breaking yourself if he even willed it? Such lines of thinking were tempered with guilt, the sensation deeply unsettling and uncomfortable. If not for the Deity, you’d be just another voice screaming among the chorus of the Void, but…

Maybe that would have been best.

Onward you went, thinking of everything that made happened, of the ones you had lost. That night of passion felt like a dream now, one you wished had never ended. V’s hands, his lips, those soft spoken words...had any of them been real, or just lust? Was it so terrible to try and convince yourself that he truly loved you? It seemed so possible at the time, his actions speaking so much louder than words. The poet had protected you, hadn’t he? Waited when you were suffering your consequences and keeping you by his side. Or...had that all been an act, a means to get him safely up the Qliphoth tree? But even when you couldn’t share that energy, he was still tender to you.

V had even tried to convince you not to help him. So...what was the truth?

And more so, the things V had shared with you, those vulnerabilities and fears. Were those stories true? He had spoken of the mother he lost so young, about growing up alone and being lonely...Would that mean Vergil lost his mother, and Dante for that matter? Or perhaps that was just a lie, spoken to you to earn your sympathy. Manipulation. It didn’t feel that way--His pain seemed so achingly real.

Or maybe you were just reaching, grasping at any straws you could find. It was all that could occupy your thoughts, filling the silence that came with traveling up the Qliphoth alone. Open air had finally been reached, a series of ledges and paths leading up into the sky. The breeze would have felt more relaxing if it weren’t for how terrible you felt, cooler now than the heat and wetness inside that blasted tree. Onward you climbed, glad that this place seemed to have been already cleared out by Dante--scratches lined the ground, telling the tales of demons’ death and Dante’s attacks. He had definitely been here, a good sign in your opinion.

Your body could barely handle the walk, legs buckling underneath you quite a few times. Each instance only lead to you breathing for a few moments, gagging on whale oil before forcing yourself to stand. The pain was bitterly consistent , mixing with the whispers in an attempt to keep you down on the ground. Each time you fell was harder to get up from, but you refused to stop.

I’m not going back. Not now.

That thought solidified in spades when you heard voices carried on the breeze, both achingly familiar. One was Dante, the sound of him grunting and fighting as expected. But the other was what made your heart pound, breathes turning into gasps as you pressed up the next ridge harder and faster.

Griffon, that voice was Griffon.

You’d recognize his stupid, taunting squawk anywhere. Growing ever closer, loud and abrasive as it echoed in the high altitude air. The thought of seeing him alive, seeing any of the familiars again…

It was the only hope you had left.

Trying to climb in the state you were in was fucking agonizing, a strangled whimper finally leaving you as you dragged your form up over the clif fside. The tendrils you usually relied on were weakened, sporadic in their attempts to hoist and aid you. It was a difficult task, but when you finally pulled yourself up over the lip of the cliff it you found yourself staring in shock, heart pounding in confusion and disbelief at what you saw.

The image of Griffon, Shadow, and Nightmare was like a kick to the gut, knocking all the wind out of you and making your eyes burn painfully. They were still here, not gone with the poet and still alive. But...that relief was fleeting, crushed into dust when you saw them fighting Dante, leveling the attacks they once used to aid in battles on him instead. And worse so, they were losing absolutely to the demon hunter. You could already see them growing weaker, unable to match Dante’s brute strength and abilities.

Why? Why were they fighting? What the fuck were they thinking?

You pulled yourself to your feet as fast as you could, blood roaring in your ears as you watched Dante raise his sword, going to level another attack on the bird you once held on your shoulders, laughing with, joking and--

Dante was going to kill them.

“Stop…!”

You were shocked that a scream could even be mustered from your throat, bursting out from your lips and carrying over the space. It caused the fighting to immediately halt, Dante whipping around to look at you the same time all three familiars did, sword still raised over his head. And there you stood, panting and battered on the edge of their battlefield, staring at them in pain and horror at what they were doing. The fact that they stopped at all spoke volumes, giving you even a little shred of hope that you could salvage something from this hell.

The look on Griffon’s face shifted for several moments, you were not oblivious to it. After traveling for him those few days it was easy to identify his emotions before they were hidden--shock, guilt, regret, sadness, then bouncing to a neutral expression. Shadow and nightmare were even less easy to read, but you saw the cat’s tail droop towards the floor, ears twitching back and forth. You didn’t realize how much you missed them until that moment, eyes aching to cry as much as you held it back.

“I thought I told you and Nero to go back to the van…!” Dante yelled, sighing heavily and frowning at you as he turned his body in your direction, “Stay out of this, kid, it doesn’t concern you…!”

You were so fucking tired of hearing that.

Everyone seemed so hellbent on deciding where you belonged and where you didn’t, which conflicts were your business and those that weren’t. How could he say that to you, after everything suffered and how much Vergil...V...both of them hurt you?

Your opened your mouth to reply, indignation burning in your gut among the ice and pain, but Griffon cut you off.

“You shouldn’t be here,” He said flatly, narrowing his tri-pupil eyes on your form and adding, “Hate to agree with Dante, but he’s right.”

His words stung you terribly, breath catching in your chest as you squeezed your blouse again. Squeezed until your fingers felt numb. His tone sounded so cold, detached, and that tripled the hurt you felt. Even Shadow looked away from you, eyes staring flatly at Dante as they bared their fangs. Was this...really what it was coming to? Did they not care at all now, with V being gone? That alone made your eyes tear up, throat feeling like you had swallowed glass when you tried to breathe.

But the look on Griffon’s face before...you hadn’t imagined that, had you? Those brief flashes of emotions, the grief and regret. They had seemed real, but maybe...you had been reaching again.

Please. No more. I can’t take anymore.

“Do you honestly think I would just stand idly by?” You whispered, staring him down with firm eyes as you tried to calm your breathing, “While you all fight up here like this?”

Griffon scoffed bitterly, ruffling out his feathers as he turned his face away.

“Sorry, toots,” He said simply, tilting his head to the side and growling at you, “But we don’t have time to play pals with you anymore.”

Is that all he boiled it down to? Playing pals? You swallowed hard, thinking back on all the moments you shared, every laugh and smile, those times where he was the only friend you had to talk to. Was that all an act too, just like how you were afraid it was with V? It had been so god damn precious to you, each moment he landed on your shoulders, beak to your face. When Shadow opened up to you, purring and soft after your nightmares…

It was all so fucking important.

Return to the Void. Leave them. The Void whispered, sensing your thoughts and doubts. They were only growing louder, threatening to overwhelm you right when you needed to stay the most level. You refused, deciding that there would be no yielding to them, no going back—There was so much that still needed to be done, to be said.

I’ll be damned if I don’t try.

You clenched your fists, voice coming out strained and raw as you countered, “Is that it then? Just going to drop everything, throw your lives away like they don’t matter?”

Griffon let out an annoyed huff, leveling his eyes on you again as he snapped, “Don’t you get it?!” He raised his sapphire wings, eyes sharp and cold as he lifted in the air, closer to you now. The gusting from his flapping made your hair sway, but your eyes wouldn’t move from his. Through it all Dante watched, quiet and expression unreadable. Like he wanted to see how things played out.

“V wasn’t the only thing cast off from Vergil,” Griffon glowered at you, tone harsher than you had ever heard it, “We’re just nightmares, the culmination of Vergil’s abominable thoughts. And a nightmare can’t feel anything, princess--that’s a fact you need to get through that pretty little skull.”

You felt your hands begin to tremble, trying to keep your expression neutral as he flung blow after verbal blow at you, dipping his talons into your despair and ripping it back out again. Even that nickname, what he had called you before you were friends. Before he knew you.

“It’s over,” Griffon said simply, a bit of a laugh mixing in with his tone as he went to turn away, “Now get lost. We have a demon hunter to fry.”

You felt your breathing go faster and faster, legs threatening to collapse under the weight of your despair as you opened your mouth to beg, to plead, anything to convince him otherwise. Gods, it couldn’t end like this. You couldn’t watch Dante kill them in front of you, not after losing V.

Please don’t do this to me, don’t….!

You fought back a whimper, eyes burning with threatening tears as you took a step in his direction.

But you didn’t make it any further.

Return return return.

No more running away.

Return to the Void NOW!

Before you could so much as muster a word to Griffon, the Void whispers turned into screaming, your eardrums rippling with pain at the sensation. You cried out, covering your ears and body crumpling to your knees as you tried to force the sensation away. Pain, so much pain, and now a cold feeling was growing at your back. Like being caressed by ice, the chilly wind wrapping around you until you were frigid with it. There was no mistaking that feeling, that prickling along your spine—that was the Void calling, demanding that you answer. Like the screaming of a thousand voices, millions, worming their way into your skull.

You felt the instant a portal opened behind you, hundreds of ethereal hands reaching out and grabbing several parts of your body, hard and unyielding. You heard the others around you gasp, but you couldn’t see them anymore—one of the hands clamped down over your eyes, fingers as black as the Void and so fucking cold you couldn’t stand it. They started to drag you back, pulling you toward the portal behind you mercilessly and strong—making you return back to the very place you didn’t want to go.

The Deity had enough. He was now forcing your hand, making you come back in a way you had never experienced. Terror filled your whole body once the realization set in, an alarmed cry breaking past your lips as every barrier fell. The pain, the anguish, the panic...they were now on full display, no longer able to hold back in the face of such unrelenting fear.

Return. Return. Return.

He demands it.

You will return now.

“No!” You screamed, fighting and thrashing against the hands as your body hit the ground, knocking all the air out of your lungs. The tears came soon after, white hot and desperate as they rolled past the fingers and down your cheeks. Gulping sobs started to wrack your frame, making it hard to breath as you fought and fought with every ounce of strength you had left. You didn’t want to go, you wanted to stay. Scared, so scared. Nothing like this had happened before, your worst nightmares coming to life one after another.

He was going to erase everything.

He was going to take your memories of V, Griffon, Shadow, Nightmare, everyone.

You would wake days, months, years later. And you would be empty of them all, save for some lingering traces of agony you wouldn’t be able to place.

You didn’t want to forget. You didn’t want the ones you loved to become ghosts of memories, all feelings without substance.

“No no no…! I don’t want to go back…!” You wailed, fingers trying to dig into the ground as you sobbed, desperately fighting the strong force dragging you inch by inch, “Please…! Please don’t do this…! I don’t want to go back to that place…!”

It’s so cold there. It’s so lonely.

Please, I can’t feel that anymore.

“I’m scared…!”

You didn’t hear the rush of wings or claws on the ground, nor did you hear Griffon’s shriek of alarm over the Void’s howling. But the claws that latched onto your shoulders were unmistakable, and it made you gasp in shock.

Griffon was holding you, flapping wildly against the hands trying to drag you through the portal. You could hear him cursing, grunting and straining as he tugged and tugged, talons digging into your flesh. Claws skidded over the ground, Shadow’s teeth clamping on your arm and tugging as well. You could feel them growling against your skin, panting and pulling with all their might. The familiars were trying to save you, they were…You felt your body shaking at the realization when it hit, desperate sobs bursting from your lips as all of Griffon’s harsh words dissolved like smoke.

Return. RETURN! The Void continued to scream, words punctuated by the hands gripping you harder, cutting off circulation now. There was no way Shadow and Griffon could manage, not against the will of a God. The thought alone made you cry harder, hyperventilating as panic gripped your heart so tightly it felt like it would burst. It didn’t diminish even as Nightmare joined the fray, his strange, large hands clamping down on your waist to hold you firmly planted against the ground. No matter what they all  did, you were still sliding, nearing the portal inch by inch.

Please don’t let them take me. Please.

“I don’t want to go…!” You sobbed softly, breath hitching painfully in your throat as you struggled even more, “Not back to the dark, the cold…! I can’t take anymore...I don’t want to forget…!”

I’m so scared. Please save me. Please.

Griffon let out a snarl of desperation, voice strained and sharp as he squawked above you, “We have you, toots…! They won’t take you, not over my dead body…!”

The problem was none of you would get a choice.

Right as your feet started to touch the portal, when came the thought all hope was lost,  you heard a sound from where Dante stood in his corner of the battlefield. For a moment, you forgot he was there, lost in the panic and fear and unable to gather your thoughts at all. But he made his presence very known in an instant, your eyes flying open in shock and a gasp catching at the back of your raw, scream-battered throat.

You heard him let out a shout, followed by the sound of metal whipping through the air over and over again. It traveled right over your head, passing by Griffon’s startled form and making him release a squawk of alarm. You realized belatedly that it was the sound of Dante throwing his Devil Sword, the blade impaling right at the center of the portal opened behind you. It landed with a thick, metallic crack, one that definitely resemble the sound of cutting into flesh. The moment it hit the hands dragging you vanished, the screams of the Void disappearing with low shrieks of pain. Relief, so much relief hit you—more than ever experienced before. You fell forward, pulled away by Griffon, Shadow and Nightmare now that there was nothing holding you back.

A sob left your throat, body resting on the floor as you tried to catch your breaths. Every part of you was trembling, shaking terribly as you tried to reign in the panic, the fear, the pain. But you couldn’t, that dam now broken wide open in the face of something so terrifying happening to you. Visibility had returned, but your eyes were swimming with so many tears that it didn’t matter. They rolled down your cheeks, dripping onto the dead, greying roots of the Qliphoth.

You were scared, you were so scared.

Shadow let out a low growl, wrapping around your form and baring their teeth at the portal behind you as Griffon yanked you into a sitting position, claws no longer embedded in your skin. You felt him press his beak to your cheek, voice overly loud in your ear as he squawked at you.

“Can you hear me? Toots? Are you alright?” He asked anxiously, feathers puffed out in distressed as more tears rolled down your cheeks. He called you toots this time, not princess. That alone was an even heavier relief on your heating, aching heart

You could manage no reply, wrapping your arm around your stomach and pressing your other hand to your mouth to hold back bile. You couldn’t breathe, the stress and anxiety were too much now. Drowning you.

Griffon could sense that distress, letting out a low trill and nosing your face a few times, “H...hey, come on now—it’s okay, yeah?” He stammered, awkward and not used to comforting someone crying, “You’re safe, we won’t let those freaky hands have you, okay?”

You sucked in another breath, trying to find the will to reply when you saw Dante stroll past you, a bemused smile on his lips as he stared at the portal. You inhaled sharply, turning your head to watch him and see just what the hell he had done—first thing to accept was that he saved you, stopping the hands in their attempt to drag you back to the Void and setting you free. It was his way of doing it that shocked you, and the events that followed that made your heart freeze in your throat and disbelief curl into a ball within.

He walked up to the portal where his sword was sticking straight out, eyes sharp despite the lazy expression on his face. Cold, cocky, annoyed. You read that very easily, noticing how his jaw tightened and his gaze narrowed on the swirling blue and black. He reached out, grasping the sword’s handle and yanking it out, and what came with it is what was most shocking. The air around you went bitterly cold, filled with the howling of the Void and a deep, low hum of energy as Dante retrieved his sword, impaled on it the body of a young man, his face the—what did his face look like again?

No that...that wasn’t possible.

That couldn’t be happening.

Your eyes widened, a gasp of alarm and fear filling you when you saw your Deity, held perfectly poised with the sword stabbed straight through his chest. Seeing him in the real world, in the flesh was...unnerving, like looking into a hole that extended so deep that you couldn’t see the bottom. The Deity was an enigma, every feature on his body visible but lost in the mind before memory could commit to it. What was his hair color? Dark, you think, but it still doesn’t register. Is he pale? Tall? Short? All you could remember was those dark eyes, staring with cold emptiness at the Devil hunter wielding the sword.

By the Void, there was no way he was here.

Your Deity rarely showed himself to anyone but his followers, but to allow such a thing to happen was...unheard of, completely unbelievable. You could feel Griffon and Shadow staring at him in shock, seeing a God in the real world for a second time, only now in his flesh form. The Deity only left the Void in brief spurts, rarely in physicality, so this was…

This was unreal.

He was not fazed by the sword impaling his insides, expression calm and a smile playing on his lips. Those black eyes stared down at Dante, the blue glow of the Void illuminating them both as the cold grew and grew, the area around you all seeming to darken. Wind was whipping your hair, kicking up dust and making Griffon yelp and hold onto you tighter. All you could do was stare in shock, heart pounding so hard it filled your ears with a dull roaring. You had never seen your Deity do this, not in any of the years you served him. To allow himself to be stabbed, to let Dante pull him out of his domain...what did he hope to accomplish? What was this game?

Unease filled you, spreading to every corner of your mind and making you tremble in fear. But Dante? He wasn’t fazed either.

He stared your Deity down, face calm and unimpressed by the display of power. He tilted his head, whipping out one of his pistols in his free hand and pointing it at the God’s face.

“Bet you think you’re hot shit,” He commented, raising a brow and raising his lips in a half smirk, “Making an entrance like that, trying to drag her back to your stinking little hole in the dark.”

The Deity smiled wider, looking bemused as he regarded Dante. And a bit...impressed? You blinked, unable to read his expressions considering that you could never remember them. The Deity was an enigma, completely incomprehensible no matter how hard you tried. Even now, as you watched you had no idea what to expect—would he retaliate? Leave? Sending the Void back for more.

But he only smiled wider, seeming absolutely delighted by the whole situation as he pressed his fingers to the Devil Sword. It didn’t like that, a sizzling sound ringing out as it sent a warning pulse of energy up his fingers.

“How...interesting,” He mused, raising his fingers and gazing at them in mirth, “I haven’t felt an energy like that in such a long time.”

Had your Deity met Sparda then? When? And how?

Dante clicked his tongue, cocking his gun right between the Deity’s eyes as he replied, “That so? Enjoy it while you can, because you won’t be staying,” He dug the blade in deeper, inciting no reaction from the God as he said cheerfully, “Why don’t you piss off and find somewhere else to find your entertainment?”

That earned him a low, ethereal chuckle, The Deity tapping his fingers over and over again on the sword despite its adverse reactions. Where he touched, ice formed and melted in an instant. He was testing its power, seeing how it would hold up to the Void’s energy in its purest form. You didn’t understand why, his reasoning for doing all of this at all. He hadn’t even looked at you yet.

What is going on?

“How incredibly fascinating,” His voice was a deep hum, black eyes staring Dante down eerily as his hair drifted on the swirling wind, “Tell me why I shouldn’t take my child back to the Void from whence she came? After all she has done to disobey me?”

Those black eyes turned slowly to look at you, making your body cower like a child about to be struck by their father. Shadow, despite the absolutely obvious threat level, coiled around you more protectively, baring their teeth at the God in a snarl. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what the black eyed bastard was thinking, his motives. This was uncharted territory wherever he was concerned, having spent years in a cycle that you had long grown used to. When had he ever done this, been so reckless and out in the open? So cruel? There was not a time you could remember that was like this, not unless it was erased from you.

The Deity smiled as if he sensed your thoughts, that little curl of his lips making a shiver travel down your spine. Nightmare took a few steps up behind you, a silent giant that was equally as threatening as Shadow’s growling. As for Griffon, he was situated on your shoulders as always, a bit of his energy crackling in the air as he warily prepared to defend you.

Protection. They were trying to keep you safe. Something about that made more tears drip down your cheeks, pattering onto your lap and thighs.

Dante definitely didn’t like the Deity focusing on you, pressing the gun right up against the ethereal man’s forehead and tilting it back a bit. Immediately, all attention was returned to the smirking Devil Hunter.

“Your ‘child’ huh? Guess you’re not earning any Father of the Year awards any time soon,” He said sarcastically, tone taking on a sharp edge that surprised even you. He pressed harder, eyes not wavering from the Deity as he twisted the sword in his chest with a sickening cracking sound. You immediately flinched, eyes wide and shocked at such an action. The Deity didn’t even bat an eye, even when Dante continued on firmly, “Why can’t you gods get it through your head? Human souls aren’t your god damn toys to play with whenever you get bored.”

Is that what I am? Just...a toy?

Was it really so wrong to see the Deity as someone who cared?

Dante pushed the sword in all the way to the hilt, putting himself toe to toe with the bemused God as he scoffed, “How many dimensions have you sent her to, just to see how she messes shit up and hurts herself? You take advantage of vulnerable, broken souls and that shit doesn’t fly with me.”

Those words made you blink in shock, the realization creeping up on you and adding to the crushing despair. Was that all you were to the Deity, a toy that he was playing games with just to see how far he could push you? Time after time, you had done exactly as he asked and headed to a dimension only for them not care. But even on those missions, the Deity had been there to guide you at shrines, keeping up constant aid and communication.

What if every dimension was like this one, already set up to fix their own problems with you thrust in just to see how things could be shifted? The thought made your heart pound harder, vomit creeping up your throat and mixing with the whale oil. All this time, you thought the things you did were helping people, but...what if they weren’t?

What if you truly were the problem?

“You sound like you have me figured out,” The Deity hummed, tilting his head to the side and holding up his hands in shrugging gesture of non-caring, “Have it your way. I care not for this prattle any longer.”

As you watched on in shock, his body started to turn black from the feet up, morphing into shards of black crystal that started to fly into the portal behind him. The wind grew even colder, blowing so hard that Griffon squawked and clung to your shoulders just to stay attached. So this wasn’t the Deity’s physical form after all, just a projection of the Void? You met his gaze, breath catching for a moment as his black eyes lingered on you. Reading his emotions was downright impossible, but for a moment...you thought there was something akin to satisfaction in those murky depths. That couldn’t be right, could it?

“We will speak again.” The Deity told you, his voice carried on the Void’s whispers as the crystals extended over his face, swirling away until he was completely dissolved back into the portal. The instant he left, a crackle of energy rang out, bringing with it a bass hum as the Void’s maw shut once more. It felt like all the air left your lungs in a single breath. Every emotion, fear, and weakness slammed into you like a truck. That seemed to be the final straw, your body falling forward a bit as you struggled to hold yourself up. It was too much, everything was too much now. First the things with V, then the familiars, now this…

Dante clicked his tongue, shaking his head as the sword was summoned back to his body. You felt him looking at you, footsteps moving closer as Griffon started anxiously nudging your face again.

“Are you alright, girlie?” Griffon persisted, a low trill leaving him when the tears continued to drip down your cheeks, “C...come on, it’s fine! He’s gone!”

But it wasn’t fine. Nothing felt fine. Especially not after what he said to you, tried to push you away just like everyone else. You shook your head, pressing a hand to your mouth and trying to steady the emotions clawing their way out your throat. Your life, your purpose...they had all crumbled to pieces, and all you had left was the pain that it caused. To exist only to help others, to try and fix their worlds when in reality you were just a toy sent there to stir things up, to change them how the Deity saw fit.

Even the people here, you were never meant to help them. But…

“So much for a nightmare not feeling anything,” Dante chuckled, causing Griffon to turn and look at him with an annoyed grunt, “Put those talons right in your mouth, didn’t ya chicken? Came right to the rescue.”

Shadow didn’t seem to care, still curled around you and pressing their head to your back. The warmth provided was one of the only blessings you had after feeling that bitter cold. The bird, however, had the graces to look aggravated and a bit embarrassed. It was he who spouted such things, after all.

“Kindly fuck off, Dante,” Griffon snapped in reply, lifting off your shoulders and flapping his wings wildly, “And what about you?! Could have hucked that sword a lot earlier…!”

Dante shrugged, looking a bit bemused as he smirked at the annoyed demon, “Had to let you and the other two prove yourselves wrong first.”

That earned him an indignant squawk, Griffon puffing out his feathers like an irritated blowfish. You were only vaguely keeping up with the conversation, watching with blurry eyes as Shadow padded around to the front of your body, rubbing their fur along you like a house cat. For a moment, your eyes met, and you felt like your heart was going to collapse at the look Shadow wore. They looked...sad, eyes meeting yours and head plopping on your lap. You knew what was going through their head, reading regret in those red orbs as their tail dropped again. That expression, as well as it could manage, said I’m sorry.

Something about that only served to break you more.

You felt a sob hitch in your throat, pulling the panther’s head up so you could wrap your arms around their form. Shoulders still shaking, eyes wet with tears that kept coming even as they leaned into you, letting out a low purr that rumbled all the way to your lungs. You missed them. You missed them. No more loss, no more tragedy. It was so painful now, the thought of having to walk away from any one of the familiars. Did they belong to Vergil? Would they even want you to stay? The thoughts wouldn’t stop, and in that moment you felt selfish, more so than you had ever been. Because no matter what was decided, you didn’t want to go on anymore if they weren’t there.

Griffon immediately fell silent, probably hearing your quiet sobs and looking over to see you holding Shadow against your body. Nightmare slowly sat down next to you, a low rumble traveling through the ground as he settled his weight. How were you supposed to convey any of what you felt to them, this agony? The lonely, aching feel that came when V left, ever heightened when you thought that they would leave you too. It was agony, unbearable. And it left your drive falling to pieces, all energy starting to drain away.

“....” You heard Griffon’s flapping wings, landing somewhere next to you and pressing his beak to your arm. He let out a light sigh, the air of it gusting over your chilled skin as he mumbled, “Fuck, toots. You really don’t make shit easy, do you?”

You felt a breath hitch in your throat, shoulders starting to shake again as you squeezed your eyes shut. What he said was true, you knew that. All you had done was complicate what would have been an easy task, one that didn’t need interference.

But, despite all of that...It wouldn’t let go. The emotion, the caring, the love you had grown for the three of them. How could you just walk away, after all the time you had shared? It felt so wrong to want something after all the mistakes you had made, the loss you felt. It changed nothing, your mind barely holding together by the feeling of Shadow’s body in your arms.

Don’t leave me. Not again.

“Please,” You whimpered, stroking a hand down Griffon’s  feathers, resting it on his back as your fingers began to tremble, “Please...don’t make me lose anyone else.”

You felt Griffon jolt a bit, feathers trembling and a small breath catching in his throat. It went so quiet for a moment, you weren’t sure if he was going to say anything at all. Dante stood by, silent as well despite all the bravado he showed earlier. You had walked in just moments before to them fighting, and if you hadn’t...would Dante have killed them? If a single moment had been wasted, you could have walked in on them disintegrating, becoming nothing more than a fleeting memory on the breeze. If no good was to come of you being here, you wanted to salvage one thing, just one. Your lack of action had lost V, you refused to stay silent anymore and lose the familiars too.

When Griffon finally spoke, his tone was quiet. More so than you had ever heard it.

“We...we’re just nightmares,” He rasped, but he moved closer to you and allowed you to wrap an arm around him too. His wings were tucked to his body, his head now close enough to press against your forehead, “That’s all we’ve ever been, the culmination of Vergil’s abominable thoughts as Nelo Angelo...We never mattered, not now and not then.”

His words made you hurt terribly, holding him closer and letting out a soft whimper.

“You’re more than that to me.” You whispered, tone breaking as you poured every ounce of emotion you felt into that sentence. Every laugh, jibe, the moments you all shared...He needed to know how much they mattered, all of them did.

Griffon fell silent again, forehead still resting on yours as silence made its home for a few seconds. You couldn’t predict what he was going to say, but then again you felt like it wouldn’t really matter. No matter what choice he made...there was no more going forward. Your body couldn’t handle any more, not after the scare that had occurred here. You wouldn’t admit it to the others, but...you had lost feeling in your legs, akin to what you felt that day of punishment. The only way up to Vergil would have been to drag yourself by your tendrils or ask the familiars to carry you. And neither was happening.

But more than all of that...you realized that going would only interfere more when you didn’t belong.

Had the Deity not sent you here, V would have still made it up the tree to become Vergil once more, of that you were certain. Maybe he had been distracted by you during the horseman battle, leaving him open to attack? The familiars would have kept him safe, moving up the tree and to his final destination of where he belonged. Just acknowledging it was so painful, making your heart pound painfully in your chest as you opened your eyes again. This conflict wouldn’t have happened, none of it, had you just stayed asleep. And as much as that hurt...it wasn’t really your place to press for what shouldn’t have been yours at all. Swallowing that pain, that pride...it would be terribly painful, but it was so necessary.

As much as it hurt, V and Vergil shouldn’t have even met you at all.

Griffon’s eyes opened when yours did, meeting your gaze with his own and letting out a soft sigh. You saw regret there, along with its close friends of sadness and guilt. He finally broke the silence, his strange maw opening and feathers puffing out again.

“We can’t go on without a new master,” He grumbled, almost begrudgingly so, gaze flickering away as he cleared his throat, “Know anybody who would want some cast-off dumbasses around? We ain’t got a lot of options.”

Hope budded, small and frail among the storm toiling inside. If he was implying what you thought he was... Your breath came out in a shudder, lips tilting ever so slightly into a smile for the first time since V had absorbed back into Vergil. You weren’t the only one with nowhere to go, without purpose or reason. The familiars had been thrown away from the white-haired male as well, left to their own devices and trying to fight Dante as one last ditch effort to prove they had worth. And in that...you shared something, a pain that no one else would understand.

If we have no home, we will make it in ourselves.

You squeezed him gently as you pressed your head to his and Shadow’s, closing your eyes once more, “If we’re to be cast-offs,” You murmured, sacrificing a bit more of your Void energy and extending it to all three of them. It was such a strange sensation, feeling the way their own demonic energy burned and ached desperately to root itself, “The best way to do it is together...right?”

Griffon let out a light chuckle, his demonic power activating as Nightmare shuffled closer, bowing over you and letting the Void power connect to them all. You could feel them growing ever closer, the bond between you all like threads of steel, one after the other. They hovered in the air, waiting for those final words to be spoken to seal the deal. The sensation grew and grew, like vibrations curling around all your forms and crawling over your skin.

“Say the word, toots,” Griffon huffed, snapping his beak by your ear, “And we’re all yours.”

You opened your eyes again, expending that final bit of Void energy as you whispered the incantation into the air.

“Through the Void, Souls are Bound.”

Those threads of steel snapped into place, sealing the connection between you and all three familiars in an instant. It was an uncanny sensation, being suddenly connected to so many other beings at once. You could feel each one of their minds, just barely sensible in their thoughts and feelings. Like whispers hovering on the edge of your consciousness. Griffon’s abrasive nature, the languid predator that was Shadow, and strange, intangible static from Nightmare. It made you grit your teeth, feeling a burn spread over your shoulders down to your fingertips. They were filling you with demonic energy in those locations alone, coming into your form like they did with their former master. Tattoos, you realized belatedly--they were forming on your skin.

When you opened your eyes again, the three were gone. But you could feel them, writhing under your skin, getting used to the feeling of you after spending so long in another. It was so odd--like being touched on your shoulders and arms but no one being there. You lifted your hands, breath catching at the black markings extending over your fingers. For whatever reason, you had less markings than V did, something that confused you. Even upon examining your hair, it was expected to be ebony in color, like the poet’s as well. But...only a part of your locks were now black, on the one side curled around your face.

Griffon’s voice whispered through your skull, startling for a moment as he sensed your question.

“You’re a full vessel, toots. Not half a person,” He grunted at you, sounding a bit tired as he took in all the feelings assaulting your body, “You really are a colossal dumbass, aren’t you?! How the fuck did you make it up here feeling this shitty? Why is everything so painful?” His squawks grew in anger, making you wince as he shouted, “Have you lost your goddamn mind?! What the hell were you thinking coming up here to challenge Vergil when you’re this fucking damaged…!?”

You winced more, putting your hands to your head and muttering aloud, “Christ alive, Griffon, please shut up.”

Dante chuckled at your words, taking a few steps closer to you and kneeling down by your form. You blinked, looking at his face with a bit of startled surprise. To be honest, you had forgotten about his presence for a bit there--The devil hunter had been so silent through that whole exchange, standing to the side and letting things unfold how you wanted them to. It was pretty respectable that he would give up his fight, knowing how much he didn’t like demons in the first place. All in all, he looked pleased, wearing that lazy smile as he met your gaze.

“Bet that chicken is squawking up a storm at you right now,” He commented lightly, wind blowing his white hair around his face a bit, “Telling you exactly what I’m about to--leave this tree, go back down to the van with the others. Let me beat some sense into old douchebag up there.”

You lowered your head, feeling incredibly lightheaded as you examined the tattoos now tracing the tops of your fingers. There was no fight left, no argument worth making. This was defeat, pure and simple, but a small victory had come out of it. To even have the familiars back in your life was more than could ever be hoped for. But...you knew that every and any limit had been reached, body barely able to move and a deep-rooted agony pulsing through your limbs. Unconsciousness was threateningly close, held back by purely determination alone.

There were so many doubts, regrets, fears. Ones that wouldn’t quiet.

“Are you going to kill him?” You whispered, breathing rattling in your lungs like frost as you tried to calm the curling sensations in your gut.

That made Dante sigh, scratching the back of his head lightly as he thought over what you asked.

“Do you care?” He asked in reply, raising a brow and meeting your eyes with a searching gaze of his own. You didn’t know what to think of him still, not after everything that had transpired. But...you got the feeling that, despite everything, you had just gotten the wrong opinions on Dante. Stepping off on bad footing, both battling doubts about each other with such a lack of information. You felt awful, but what else was new?

“...Despite everything,” You mumbled softly, shoulders slumping as you admitted to him, “I do. Not just for me, but for Nero as well. Can’t you both settle your differences and...and...not do this to him?”

To find out he had family, only to be forced to the sidelines while they tried to kill each other...it was more than cruel to the boy. Downright unfair, to be frank.

Dante let out another sigh at that, rising slowly to his feet as he grunted in reply, “Wish it was that simple...This shit never seems to end,” He seemed to stare off into the distance for a moment, remembering things from the past that you didn’t understand, “Either way, he needs a beating and then some for what he’s done.”

That you could understand at the very least. But...there was so much more, the insecurities swirling around your head that needed to come out. Vegril was Dante’s brother, right? Would he even begin to know what was going through the surly man’s head?

“Was any of it real?” You whispered, half expecting him not to answer you. Each moment with V was implied in those words, mingling with grief and hesitation now that you knew exactly what had been hidden from you, “Everything that he said...felt...about me? Or was I just another means to an end…?”

Was it all a lie?

Dante went quiet for a moment, gaze still staring off in the distance and deep in thought. For a moment, he looked fairly wise. More like a demon hunter who had fought and fought his whole life to keep humans safe.

“As long as I’ve known Vergil, he’s been the most stubborn dickhead I’ve ever met,” He finally replied, a bit of a smirk tilting his lips, “He’s a prideful bastard, hellbent on power and refusing to waste time on anything else. But...V was his humanity, the most repressed part of him,” Dante turned his gaze to you again, smile fading a bit as he continued, “So I can’t say for sure what he did or didn’t feel. But...I know Vergil is far too prideful to ask for affection or anything, to share himself with anyone. None of the shit I saw when he was with you, so...take that for what it’s worth.”

You didn’t know what to feel about that, or what to glean from it. Dante’s deduction was the word vomit equivalent to a shrug.

But Griffon was there, hovering on the edges of your conscious mind and hearing everything that was said. You felt him stir, his thoughts pressing against yours and voice so quiet.

“For the record, toots,” He said gruffly, voice ever so faint and filled with regrets, “I was in his head, what Shakespeare felt for you...well, it was more real than anything he was used to.”

Hearing that from the bird was just...it somehow made things hurt more, the reassurance both a blessing and a curse. You clutched a hand to your blouse, more tears rolling down your face as you tried to swallow down more whale oil. If Griffon said it was true, was it alright to believe it? You could tell it was what he honestly believed, in no way a lie or an exaggeration. The connection you shared definitely kept things truthful. But...V was now gone, lost inside the sea that was Vergil and taking that love with him. And that ache was more than you wanted to stomach at the moment.

“...Even if I go down there,” You mumbled, exhaustion in your tone and eyes squeezing shut, “I shouldn’t have been here to begin with...would they even really want me?”

I refuse to be a burden on others.

Dante scoffed, walking over and planting a firm head on your hair. You let out a surprised sound, feeling him ruffle it lightly as he replied, “Y’know, when I stopped by the van on my way up one of the first things Lady, Nico, and Trish asked me was where you were. They harassed the shit out of me about it--weren’t too happy that I had left you and Nero alone after all that had happened.”

That made you blink, heart squeezing softly as you thought of them all in turn. Even Trish, who wasn’t as close to you as the others. They had been asking about you? It felt strange, remembering all the times with them you shared as well. There was a strange ache in your chest in regards to everything, knowing that things had fallen apart so terribly.

They tried to help me, but in the end we could all do nothing.

“You seem pretty loved to me,” Dante continued, patting your head again and offering a friendly smile, one warmer than his usual smirks, “Best not keep them worrying for too long, right?”

Loved. The word felt strange in regards to you, but it was only confirmed by the familiars now inside your body. You trembled as you felt it from them, surrounding you from the inside like a warm embrace, chasing away that cold. And in that moment...it was enough, enough to make you turn around. To go back to the others and try. If the familiars could love you despite everything, to hold you so dear even after such short interactions...Maybe the others could to.

“I...I don’t know if I can walk,” You admitted, voice cracking a bit as you tried to bite back more tears, “I’ve pushed myself as far as I can go.”

Griffon materialized out of your body at your words, flanked by Nightmare’s hulking form.

“The big guy here will carry you down,” He said firmly, landing on your shoulders and pressing his face to yours, “We’ve still got some juice in us from Vergil’s rebirth, we can manage for a little while on our own before we return back.”

Nightmare nodded slightly, slowly reaching down with his large, club-like arms and lifting you off of the ground. Jostling your aching form was painful, a whimper escaping your lips despite all efforts. But Nightmare was trying his hardest to be gentle, you could feel that. He held you in something akin to an embrace, tucking you to his chest and cradling you protectively. It was funny--you had tried so long to find time for hugging Nightmare, and now you were finally getting it. When things were their most terrible.

You sniffled softly, eyes tearing up as you mumbled, “Th...Thank you...I’m sorry. For everything.”

Dante let out a scoff, waving off your apologies as he barked in reply, “None of that, you didn’t do anything wrong. Just focus on resting and getting to safety,” He gave Griffon a two finger salute, stepping back and adding to the bird, “Adios, Chicken. Make sure she gets back to Nico’s van in one piece, yeah?”

Griffon snorted, landing on one of Nightmare’s shoulders and ruffling his feathers. Or, at least you thought he did. Now that you were horizontal, eyes staring up at the sky...unconsciousness was overtaking you, edges of your vision swimming with black as each and every exhaustion claimed its victory. Tired, you were so very tired. You gave too much, felt too much, cried too much--now you were running on empty. The sky was still, somehow, blue. The orange and pink tints of a coming sunset dancing on the edges of the clouds. It was so strange to think that all this madness had transpired in one day, that you had met V days ago. It had been a lifetime extended over a week’s passing, but it felt like more than that.

That night of passion with V felt so far away. Your first kiss, hearing him say he loved you...it was so precious, but it came and went in a breath’s time. You both had certainly misbehaved, but you couldn’t find yourself to regret it while feeling so overwhelmingly numb. Your eyes closed, body not feeling any of Nightmare’s footfalls as he turned and started to walk away from Dante.

As you drifted away, you heard Griffon’s voice, low and full of warning as he spoke one last line to the demon hunter.

“Good luck Dante...You’re gonna’ need it.”

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18136193/chapters/44800837

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Tagged: @nightshadow4713 @slightlylunatic @silentwhispofhope @just-call-me-no-name @efiicitia @raven-huntress

#devil may cry v #devil may cry #devil may cry 5 #dmc5 #dmc v #V dmc #V x reader #v x self insert #spirit writes fanfic #fanfic #chapter 26 #Ebony and Ivory #ebony and ivory chapter 26 #dante #vergil

[proxylynn]

Lynchtale: File Name Game of Death #3

Chapter 3: Know the rules, so you can break them.

WARNING: THIS IS A MATURE STORY THAT WILL HAVE BLOOD, GORE, PSYCHOLOGICAL SURVIVAL HORROR, HEAVY CURSING, AND LIKELY SEXUAL THEMES/BONING. I DO NOT OWN UNDERTALE, THAT BELONGS TO LORD TOBY FOX. I DO NOT OWN DEAD BY DAYLIGHT, THAT BELONGS TO BEHAVIOUR DIGITAL INC.. I DON'T OWN THE AU'S THAT SOME OF THE CHARACTERS COME FROM, THEY BELONG TO THEIR RESPECTIVE CREATORS. I DON'T OWN THE IDEA FOR LYNCHTALE, THAT BELONGS TO PUNNYSIDEUP (AKA. SANSFULPUNS). WHAT I DO OWN IS MY SELF-INSERT OC ANOMALY LYNSIE AND THE LOVE OF FAN PARODY. IF YOU'RE STILL READING THIS, THEN CONGRATULATIONS ON EITHER BEING ONE WITH STRONG DETERMINATION OR AN ENDLESS WILL TO OVERCOME THE CHALLENGE OF STOMACHING WHAT I HAVE IN MIND. EITHER WAY, IF YOU LIKE THIS AND/OR MY OTHER CONTENT, SIT BACK AND ENJOY THE ETERNAL PUNISHMENT. HAVE FUN SINNERS. ^_^

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[Elsewhere: Killer Shack]

*CLANG-CLANG*

"Tra la la. The meeting will now come to order."

Wraith materializes and gets the other killers attention.

"As we have been doing for the last five feed cycles...Tra la la...We will now see if anyone has encountered the new Survivor. Show of hands?"

The room is very still. Till one hand goes up in a cocky way.

"YOU'VE GOT TO BE JOKING."

Trapper says bitterly.

"IF ANYONE SHOULD'VE GOTTEN TO HAVE A STAB AT THE NEW MEAT IT'S ME. I AM THE FIRST CHOSEN. IT IS MY RIGHT TO SPILL THEIR PATHETIC BLOOD UPON THE NEW HUNT."

This is indeed true. While not technically oldest killer, by place in time that's no doubt Plague as she's from a time between 1895-539 BC and by age that is up for questioning as time has no effect on them thus they haven't aged nor have they cared to ask what any of them were, but Trapper does hold the title of first taken by the Entity so he is the senior killer. In order of their arrival there was Trapper, Wraith, Hillbilly, Nurse, Shape, Hag, Doctor, Huntress, Cannibal, Nightmare, Pig, Clown, Spirit, Legion, Plague, and the latest one recruited being Ghost Face. But screw this seniority hierarchy bullshit! Legion's grin is wide, full of bravado, and no one likes it.

"Legion, is it true? Did you come across the human in your trial? Tra la la."

"ah, what's the matter? can't stand that it wasn't any of you that got to have fun with the new meat? well, suck it! that was one of the best hunts i've had ever! *manic laughter*"

Ghost Face creeps his way nearby.

"My my...Two of us now has had her all to themselves. Tell us, darling, how did it go? Was she as Wraith told us? How did you kill her? Details. They are important. Do share."

Feeling like the cock of the walk, Legion puts his hands in his pockets coolly.

"now i'm not one to kill and tell, but since you asked...i didn't kill her."

This gets some odd looks his way.

".........?"

"The Shape is right, deary. How did you not kill her?"

Plague asks legitimately.

"heh...i'll tell you, but i want something in exchange."

"✡⚐🕆 ⚐☠☹✡ 👍⚐☠❄✋☠🕆☜ ❄⚐ ✌💣✌☪☜ 💣☜ 🕈✋❄☟ ❄☟☜ ☜✞☜☼ ☝☼⚐🕈✋☠☝ ☹☜✞☜☹💧 ⚐☞ 👌⚐☹👎☠☜💧💧 ✡⚐🕆 ☝☜❄ ✌💧 ❄✋💣☜ 🏱✌💧💧☜💧📬" (YOU ONLY CONTINUE TO AMAZE ME WITH THE EVER GROWING LEVELS OF BOLDNESS YOU GET AS TIME PASSES.)

The Doctor remarks with a thought they all shared.

"trust me. the info i got is worth it. all i want is a gruesome gateau. and i know at least one of you still has one. you give me that, and i'll tell you every single thing that went down. every...last...little...detail."

"For the Entity's sake! Someone pay the man! I can't take this tease!"

Ghost Face is a needy one. But as a recently recruited killer, it's not like he had the item of request.

"How do we know what you have to say is worth it? For all we know, you're just playing us like a fox with a hare."

Huntress makes a valid point.

"fine. if you really need a sample...she helped me kill the other humans."

This little snippet of what he knew is just tempting enough to win over the majority.

"I shall deliver the offering to you after the meeting, dear."

Nurse says politely and Legion rubs his hands together deviously.

"alright. thank you kindly, lady. now gather round papa legion, kiddies, for i got quite the story to tell."

And he wasn't lying. Legion tells them everything. From her unique terror radius, to her resentment leading to betrayal, and her bizarre behavior before he stopped it from getting worst, to then letting her escape through the hatch. The only things he didn't mention are the small joke moments and the personal torture time. Somethings are just to enjoyed by the ones involved. Not like she enjoyed it. But he certainly did.

"T-This human is an odd one. They n-normally don't t-turn on each other unless w-we're going at them hard."

Pig stutters in thought.

"I'LL GIVE HER CREDIT. SHE DIDN'T STAND FOR THEIR BULLSHIT."

Trapper says with a smirk.

"Come on. she's just a messed up Human. quit sucking her dick like she's the god of all Humans."

Nightmare spats unimpressed.

"hAG thought human was she?"

Oh, Hag, you special bundle of try. Nightmare just glares and shakes his head, he's not one known for his patience.

"What do you think, Doctor? Tra la la."

"✋ ❄☟✋☠😐 ❄☟☜ 💣⚐☼☜ ✋☠❄☜☼☜💧❄✋☠☝ ✌💧🏱☜👍❄ ⚐☞ ☹☜☝✋⚐☠🕯💧 ✌👍👍⚐🕆☠❄ 🕈✌💧 ❄☟✌❄ 💣⚐💣☜☠❄ ☠☜✌☼ ❄☟☜ ☜☠👎📬 ✋❄ 💧☜☜💣☜👎📬📬📬⚐👎👎☹✡ ☼☜💣✋☠✋💧👍☜☠❄📬" (I THINK THE MORE INTERESTING ASPECT OF LEGION'S ACCOUNT WAS THAT MOMENT NEAR THE END. IT SEEMED...ODDLY REMINISCENT.)

"You mean the part where she was TURNING?"

That got them to look at Spirit.

"What? You can't tell me it's not OBVIOUS."

"*cough* Would you care to explain? *hack*"

Clown snarkily questioned through his smoker's lung-like coughing.

"I mean, I don't know if any of you remember, but I know the ENTITY likes to do things to the ones IT LIKES. You can't believe we LOOK LIKE THIS ON PURPOSE."

She brought up a good point. They didn't remember much about their pasts, but they knew most of them weren't as disfigured when they first were claimed by the Entity. Trapper didn't put the iron rods and hooks into his bones. Nurse didn't choke herself with a pillowcase over her head. Hag didn't cake herself in muck and deform her hands. Spirit didn't impale her body in shards of glass and she didn't sever her arms or implant a sword in one. Legion didn't merge with other people because they wanted to. Doctor didn't strap himself into his electroconvulsive gear to pry his eyes and mouth open, nor did he stream the wires into his bones. Wraith didn't lose it's form and identity because it felt like doing so. These were things the Entity did, taking what it knew of them and adding to them, sometimes as a punishment. Sure, other killers didn't go through such visible changes like them. Huntress and Clown only seemed to have blackened out eyes, like a creepy doll or a monstrous shark. Shape, Pig, Ghost Face, and Cannibal were unknowns as they wore masks and tended to don fully covering outfits. The hardest to tell if the Entity did anything to were Plague, Hillbilly, and Nightmare. All three were brought in with some sort of disfigurement so its really hard to say what was done to them if anything.

"SO WHAT YOU'RE SAYING IS...THAT HUMAN, FOR WHATEVER REASON, WAS BECOMING A MONSTER?"

Trapper has a totally non-asshole sounding tone.

"That's my IDEA at least."

It is just an suspicion Spirit had and nothing concrete.

"...THAT'S JUST STUPID."

Never mind, Trapper is just an asshole.

"You shouldn't dismiss it so soon. Tra la la. Nothing is beyond reason when it comes to the Entity."

A very good point made by Wraith.

"✋☞ ❄☟✋💧 ❄☟☜⚐☼✡ ✋💧 ❄⚐ 👌☜ 👌☜☹✋☜✞☜👎📪 🕈☜ 💣🕆💧❄ ☼🕆☠ ✋❄ ❄☟☼⚐🕆☝☟ ✌ ❄☜💧❄📬" (IF THIS THEORY IS TO BE BELIEVED, WE MUST RUN IT THROUGH A TEST.)

Doctor being doctor, always wanting to experiment.

"..........?"

Good question asked by Shape.

"✋ 🏱☼⚐🏱⚐💧☜ ❄☟✌❄ 🕈☜ ✌☝☼☜☜ ❄⚐ ☼🕆☠ ❄☟✋💧 ☟🕆💣✌☠ ❄☟☼⚐🕆☝☟ ✌ 💧☜☼✋☜💧 ⚐☞ 💧❄☼☜💧💧 ❄☜💧❄💧📬 ☞☼⚐💣 🕈☟✌❄ ☹☜☝✋⚐☠ 👎☜💧👍☼✋👌☜👎📪 ☟☜☼ ☜💣⚐❄✋⚐☠✌☹ 💧❄✌❄☜ 💣✌✡ 🏱☹✌✡ ✌ ☼⚐☹☜ ✋☠ ❄☟✋💧 🕯❄🕆☼☠✋☠☝🕯 👌☜☟✌✞✋⚐☼📬 ✌☠✡ ⚐☞ 🕆💧 ❄☟✌❄ ☝☜❄ ❄⚐ ☟🕆☠❄ ☟☜☼ ☠☜✠❄ 💧☟⚐🕆☹👎 🕆💧☜ ❄☟☜ 💧❄☼✌☠☝☜ ☼✌👎✋🕆💧 ❄⚐ ☞✋☠👎 ☟☜☼ ✌☠👎 💣✌😐☜ ❄☟✋☠☝💧 ✌💧 ✋☼☼✋❄✌❄✋☠☝ ✌💧 🏱⚐💧💧✋👌☹☜📬" (I PROPOSE THAT WE AGREE TO RUN THIS HUMAN THROUGH A SERIES OF STRESS TESTS. FROM WHAT LEGION DESCRIBED, HER EMOTIONAL STATE MAY PLAY A ROLE IN THIS 'TURNING' BEHAVIOR. ANY OF US THAT GET TO HUNT HER NEXT SHOULD USE THE STRANGE RADIUS TO FIND HER AND MAKE THINGS AS IRRITATING AS POSSIBLE.)

Toxicity works on both ends of this twisted game.

"What of the other Survivors, deary? Surely they won't let a fellow human go attacked for very long."

Crud, a flaw pointed out by Plague.

"*scoff* those idiots? after that trial and the stunt she pulled, they're going to be looking for reasons to let her get hooked."

A very sad but true fact stated by Legion.

"✌☹☹ ❄☟☜ 👌☜❄❄☜☼ ☞⚐☼ ❄☟✋💧 🏱☹✌☠📬 🕈✋❄☟ ☟☜☼ ❄☜✌💣 ☞🕆☼❄☟☜☼ ✋💧⚐☹✌❄✋☠☝ ☟☜☼ ✌☠👎 🕈✋❄☟ 🕆💧 💣✌😐✋☠☝ ❄☟✋☠☝💧 👎✋☞☞✋👍🕆☹❄📪 ✋❄ 💧☟⚐🕆☹👎☠🕯❄ 👌☜ ❄⚐⚐ ☟✌☼👎 ❄⚐ 💣✌😐☜ ☟☜☼ 💧☠✌🏱 🕆☠👎☜☼ ❄☟☜ 🏱☼☜💧💧🕆☼☜📬" (ALL THE BETTER FOR THIS PLAN. WITH HER TEAM FURTHER ISOLATING HER AND WITH US MAKING THINGS DIFFICULT, IT SHOULDN'T BE TOO HARD TO MAKE HER SNAP UNDER THE PRESSURE.)

Cue the dramatic evil music score followed by the rumblings of thunder and lighting.

"Oh man, this is gonna be awesome! That punk is going down!"

Huntress needs very little reason to hunt humans.

"oH! hAG have question!"

A simple one is the Hag, questioning things is her specialty.

"Yes? Tra la la."

"WhaT happENS when the hooman sNaps?"

Not a bad question really.

"The darling does bring up a fair point. If and when the human does crack, what then?"

As curious as he is, Ghost Face is a cautious one and thinks ahead when it comes to his methods.

"don't know. i didn't let things get that far. she was hurting herself to make it stop when i stabbed her."

The mystery continues to mystify.

"☟💣💣💣📬📬📬❄☟☜☠ 🕈☜ 👎⚐ ☟✌✞☜ ✌ 💧💣✌☹☹ 👍☹🕆☜ ✌💧 ❄⚐ 🕈☟✌❄ ❄⚐ 👎⚐ ✋☞ 💧☟☜ 👌☜👍⚐💣☜💧 ✌ 🏱☼⚐👌☹☜💣📬 💧☜☹☞ 🏱✌✋☠ 👎☜☹✌✡💧 ❄☟✋💧 🕯❄🕆☼☠✋☠☝🕯 👌🕆❄ ✋❄🕯💧 ☠⚐❄ ✌💧 💧❄☼⚐☠☝ ✌💧 ❄☼🕆☜ ☟✌☼💣☞🕆☹ ✋☠❄☜☠❄📬 ❄☟☜☼☜☞⚐☼☜📬📬📬✋☞ ❄☟☜ ☟🕆💣✌☠ 👎⚐☜💧 ✋☠👎☜☜👎 💧☠✌🏱📪 🕈☜ ✌☼☜ ❄⚐ 💣⚐☠✋❄⚐☼ ☟☜☼ ✌☠👎 ☹☜✌☼☠ 🕈☟✌❄ ❄☟✋💧 💧❄✌❄☜ 💣☜✌☠💧 ☞⚐☼ 🕆💧📬 ☟⚐🕈☜✞☜☼📪 ✋☞ 💧☟☜ 👌☜👍⚐💣☜💧 ✌☠ ✋💧💧🕆☜ ❄☟☜☠ 👌✡ ✌☹☹ 💣☜✌☠💧 👎⚐ 🕈☟✌❄ ✋❄ ❄✌😐☜💧 ❄⚐ 😐☠⚐👍😐 ☟☜☼ 👌✌👍😐 ✋☠❄⚐ ☟☜☼ ☠⚐☼💣✌☹ 💧❄✌❄☜📬 👎⚐☜💧 ❄☟✋💧 💧⚐🕆☠👎 ☼☜✌💧⚐☠✌👌☹☜ ❄⚐ ❄☟☜ ☼☜💧❄ ⚐☞ ✡⚐🕆✍" (HMMM...THEN WE DO HAVE A SMALL CLUE AS TO WHAT TO DO IF SHE BECOMES A PROBLEM. SELF PAIN DELAYS THIS 'TURNING' BUT IT'S NOT AS STRONG AS TRUE HARMFUL INTENT. THEREFORE...IF THE HUMAN DOES INDEED SNAP, WE ARE TO MONITOR HER AND LEARN WHAT THIS STATE MEANS FOR US. HOWEVER, IF SHE BECOMES AN ISSUE THEN BY ALL MEANS DO WHAT IT TAKES TO KNOCK HER BACK INTO HER NORMAL STATE. DOES THIS SOUND REASONABLE TO THE REST OF YOU?)

A general sound of acceptance is let out. It's settled.

"hey!"

Oh? Seems something is still on Legion's mind.

"let's get something straight before any of you get ideas when dealing with her. she's mine. so don't go thinking you can have any fun times with her."

This declaration gets their attention.

"Yours?"

Hillbilly is befuddled.

"ARE YOU TRYING TO CLAIM OBSESSION RIGHTS TO THE NEW MEAT?"

Trapper sneers.

"trying to claim? no. i already staked it. i sliced my name into her chest. that human belongs to me."

Obsession rights are not easy to get among killers. Currently, only three had them. Shape claimed the human named Laurie, Nightmare claimed the human named Quentin, and Pig claimed the human named Tapp. They were able to do this because they were brought here along with said humans. Sure, other humans have been brought from spots where the killers came from, but this didn't count as there is no direct affiliation. Legion would have to make a very strong case to pass this before the others.

"Did he just say...?"

Cannibal can't even finish.

"You cocky little shit!"

Ghost Face grabs Legion and pins him against a wall.

"What gives you the right to mark the human before bringing up your claim? Do you want me to kick your ass?"

Before things escalate, Shape comes and parts them from each other.

".........."

"But he broke the rules!"

"....."

Ghost Face huffs in annoyance and backs off, leading to Shape turning to Legion.

".........?"

"don't make it sound like something it's not. she's just a quirky human that happened to make killing more interesting. that's it. marking her was a heat of the moment thing. but i figured, what the hell, this might lead to more fun in the future. so i did it."

".............?"

"*scoff* please. don't give me that crap. if you three can handle your unwilling toys, then i should have no trouble with a plaything that actually will play back."

".......?"

"what? no, i'm not going to stalk her. why would i?"

"See?! He can't even fill the role! His claim for obsession rights are trash!"

Ghost Face is clearly sour over this as stalking prey is kind of his thing. Shape is also a stalking killer, as is Nightmare and somewhat Pig. Hell, nearly all of them were stalkers in some way or another except for a few that couldn't help but make very obvious noise without the help of add-ons to quiet them down.

"geez, man. what crawled up your dress to make you such a bitch?"

"This isn't a dress! It's a shroud! For the killer that needs concealment, but craves attention. Black fabrics help give cover, white glossy textures provide fashionable accents. The long jacket helps to keep the rest of the clothes dry as blood splashes with each stab of the knife."

"whatever, weirdo."

"Fuck you!"

Aggravated with the both of them, Nurse slaps them both on the back of the head as a ticked off mom would do.

"Both of you quit this nonsensical squabbling. Honestly...Half the time I cannot tell you apart from babbling children whining over who took the last cookie from the jar."

"But he..."

"No buts. What is done is done. If Legion has marked his claim, I think he should keep it."

Nurse's words take a few back, though none could see the cunning smirk hidden behind that clothe hood.

"What say you, little man? Can you show us that your bite is as strong as your bark and actually do as you claim? Or will you prove the naysayers right by continuing to boast like a pitiful whelp starving for attention?"

Legion snarls.

"i am so sick of everyone talking down to me like i'm some sort of joke. well, you know what? fuck you! fuck all of you! i'm just as ruthless as you assholes, if not more so! i don't need your stinking approval. that human is mine. and i'm going to show you all that i'm not to be fucked with!"

Legion shows that he's a mature person by storming out of there like a fed-up kid going to brood in their room.

"You didn't have to goad him like that. Tra la la. You know how unpredictable he can be."

Nurse shrugs dismissively at Wraith.

"Funny. Because he reacted just as I predicted. Like a child."

"N-Now that he's gone, c-can we discuss his claim p-properly?"

Fairly asked by Pig.

"IF THE RUNT THINKS HE CAN HANDEL THINGS LIKE A MAN, THEN FUCK IT. LET HIM TRY. IT'LL BE HILARIOUS WHEN HE FAILS. AND IT'S NOT LIKE IT'LL ITERFER WITH US IN ANY WAY."

Ghost Face is not taking this line of talk from Trapper well.

"You can't be serious? What if I went out and claimed a human as my obsession? How would you react to that?"

"I'D BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF YOU AND TAKE YOUR OFFERINGS."

"But...That's hypocrisy! Why can he get away with it and not me?!"

Trapper growls lowly.

"FOR ONE, HE'S BEEN HERE LONGER THAN YOU. YOU'VE BEEN HERE FOR ALMOST THREE MONTHS WORTH OF FEEDING CYCLES WHEREAS THIS WILL BE HIS NINTH. SECOND, YOU DON'T EVEN HAVE A TERRITORY WHERE YOU CAN CONDUCT YOUR BUSINESS. YOU'VE BEEN LOITERING IN ALL OF OURS LIKE SOME BUM. AND THIRD, IT'S NOT AMUSING WHEN YOU FAIL. YOU ACTUALLY KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING AND ENJOY IT. HIM ON THE OTHER HAND...?"

Trapper folds his arms and shuts his eyes.

"LEGION MIGHT HAVE BEEN CHOSEN BY THE ENTITY, BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN HE'S A NATURAL KILLER."

Ghost Face is confused.

"What do you mean?"

"*SIGH* IT'S LIKE SPIRIT SAID, JUST LOOK AT US. WE DON'T LOOK LIKE THIS FOR NO REASON. THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU TRY TO REFUSE THE ENTITY'S OFFER OF SERVITUDE. IT DOESN'T TAKE REJECTION WELL."

"*cough* Typical woman. *hack*"

Clown is glared at venomously by the females for that.

"MY POINT BEING, SOME OF US ARE HERE BECAUSE THIS IS LIKE A PARADISE. ENDLESS SLAUGHTER AND NO REAL CONSEQUENCES. SO YOU PROBABLY TOOK TO IT WITH NO ISSUE. BUT FOR THE REST OF US, THE ONES THAT SAID NO AT THE START...WELL...YOU SEE WHY WE THEN SAID YES WHEN ASKED AGAIN."

"But what does that have to do with him?"

"BECAUSE HE SAID NO TO ALL THIS. HE MAY KILL BUT IT'S NOT SOMETHING HE WANTS TO DO. HE HAS TO DO IT. HE HAS TO PROVE HIMSELF. TO THE ENTITY, TO US, AND HIMSELF. IT SHOWS THAT HE KNOWS HE CAN DO BETTER. I RESPECT THAT DRIVE EVEN IF HE'S A LITTLE SHIT. AND AS ENTERTAINING AS IT IS TO SEE HIM FAIL, I'D BE LYING IF I SAID I WASN'T LOOKING FORWARD TO SEEING HIM SUCCEED."

This doesn't seem to help Ghost Face at all.

"So just because I'm new, good at my job, and like it, I don't get to have the same rights as that jackass? That's bullshit!"

"NOT TO MENTION, YOU'RE ALSO A WHINY LITTLE BITCH THAT PISSES ME OFF."

"Fuck you!"

The sudden sound of bone on metal bashes when Trapper rushes over and punches Ghost Face's face, knocking the shrouded killer across the room.

"KNOW YOUR PLACE, NEWBIE. YOU WANT RIGHTS? RESPECT? POWER? THEN FUCKING EARN IT! DON'T BITCH ABOUT LIKE YOU'RE ENTITLED. TAKE TIME TO PROVE YOU SHOULD AND THEN WE'LL TALK."

Ghost Face sneers yet relents...for now. He'll have to bide his time and find some other way to play things his way.

"Um...Other than this stuff, are there any other matters that need to be brought up? Tra la la."

Wraith queries to which Huntress raises her ax up high.

"Oh! I have noticed the signs of an upcoming Blood Hunt."

"Hmmm...Tra la la...This is twice now one has come around All Hallows' Eve."

"☟⚐🕈 ✌🏱🏱☼⚐🏱☼✋✌❄☜📬 💧☜☜✋☠☝ ✌💧 ❄☟☜ ☟✌☹☹⚐🕈☜👎 👌☹✋☝☟❄ ✋💧 ❄☟☜☠ ✌💧 🕈☜☹☹📬" (HOW APPROPRIATE. SEEING AS THE HALLOWED BLIGHT IS THEN AS WELL.)

This gets some odd looks from Plague and Ghost Face.

"I will explain. Once a year for two weeks worth of feedings, the Entity undergoes a purge. During this period, the Entity is infested with blight. The cankers bloom into a strange type of flower that spurts putrid nectar. A thick fluid that oozes like pus from infected wounds."

Nurse explains.

"YOU FORGET THAT IT'S ALSO THE TIME WHERE THOSE OTHER ASSHOLES LIKE TO MESS WITH US. FUCKING HUMANS."

Trapper spits venomously.

"How are the humans trouble during that time, deary?"

"✋☞ ✡⚐🕆 ❄☟✋☠😐 ✋🕯💣 ❄🕈✋💧❄☜👎📪 ❄☟☜☼☜ ✌☼☜ ❄🕈⚐ ☟🕆💣✌☠ 💣✌☹☜💧 ❄☟✌❄ 🏱🕆❄ 💣☜ ❄⚐ 💧☟✌💣☜📬 ❄☟☜✡ ☟✌✞☜ ☜☹🕆👎☜👎 🕆💧 ✌☠👎 ☜✞☜☠ ❄☟☜ ☜☠❄✋❄✡ ☞⚐☼ ✈🕆✋❄☜ 💧⚐💣☜ ❄✋💣☜📬 ❄☟☜ 👍☹☜✞☜☼ 👌✌💧❄✌☼👎💧 ☹✋😐☜ ❄⚐ 👌☜ ☜✞☜☠ 👌⚐☹👎☜☼ ❄☟✌☠ ☹☜☝✋⚐☠ ✌☠👎 ✌👌👎🕆👍❄ 💧⚐💣☜ ⚐☞ 🕆💧📬" (IF YOU THINK I'M TWISTED, THERE ARE TWO HUMAN MALES THAT PUT ME TO SHAME. THEY HAVE ELUDED US AND EVEN THE ENTITY FOR QUITE SOME TIME. THE CLEVER BASTARDS LIKE TO BE EVEN BOLDER THAN LEGION AND ABDUCT SOME OF US.)

That's something they weren't expecting to hear.

"✋❄ 💧☜☜💣💧 ❄☟☜💧☜ ☟🕆💣✌☠💧 ☟✌✞☜ 💣✌👎☜ 💧⚐💣☜❄☟✋☠☝ ☞☼⚐💣 ❄☟✋💧 👌☹✋☝☟❄☜👎 🏱🕆💧💧📬 ✌ 🏱🕆❄☼✋👎 💧☜☼🕆💣📬 ❄☟✋💧 💧☜☼🕆💣📪 👍✌🕆💧☜💧 🕆💧 ❄⚐ 💣🕆❄✌❄☜ 🕈☟☜☠ ✋☠☺☜👍❄☜👎 🕈✋❄☟ ✋❄📬 ❄☟✌☠😐☞🕆☹☹✡📪 ❄☟✋💧 🏱✌✋☠☞🕆☹ 💣🕆❄✌❄✋⚐☠ ☹✌💧❄💧 ⚐☠☹✡ ✌💧 ☹⚐☠☝ ✌💧 ❄☟☜ 👌☹✋☝☟❄ ✋❄💧☜☹☞ ☞⚐☼ ❄☟☜ ☜☠❄✋❄✡📬" (IT SEEMS THESE HUMANS HAVE MADE SOMETHING FROM THIS BLIGHTED PUSS. A PUTRID SERUM. THIS SERUM, CAUSES US TO MUTATE WHEN INJECTED WITH IT. THANKFULLY, THIS PAINFUL MUTATION LASTS ONLY AS LONG AS THE BLIGHT ITSELF FOR THE ENTITY. )

"Who's been blighted before?"

To this question, five hands are put up. Trapper, Wraith, Hillbilly, Doctor, and Huntress.

"*cough* To their credit. It's not like they haven't tried on the rest of us. *wheeze* Nurse nearly got the stuff but only was messed up a little bit. *hack*"

"I had a pumpkin for a head. I would not call that a little messed up."

So this is a thing. A thing that no one thought they'd picture.

"Should we tell Legion about this? The dear is also not one that knows of this event or it's hassles."

"NAH. HE'LL FIND OUT ONE WAY OR ANOTHER."

"With that said, is there any further business in need of addressing? Tra la la."

No one has anything further after all of that.

"Very well. Tra la la. Meeting adjourned."

*CLANG-CLANG*

With that, Wraith vanishes and takes its leave among the other killers.

[Elsewhere: Survivor Campsite]

"'ow she doin'?"

David asks Claudette and Quentin, both of whom are tending to Lynsie who inexplicably collapsed after returning from the last trial.

"It's odd. There are no signs of anything physically wrong with her. Yet she seems to be suffering from Hypovolemia, a state of decreased intravascular volume. This may be due to either a loss of both salt and water or, the more likely culprit, a decrease in blood volume."

Claudette's so smart. It's no wonder she's the top healer of the group.

"She mentioned that Legion 'ad a bit of fun with 'er. Probably roughed 'er up pretty good. But the Entity should've fixed that. Right? The damn thing always does when we finish trial."

"I was thinking about that..."

Now for Quentin's evil theory of the day!

"From what Dwight said, the Entity was turning her into a killer. And from what we've found in those pages of Benedict Baker's journal, the Entity will punish killers that either don't perform well or downright refuse it. I think this was her punishment, a small warning, for refusing the Entity."

"And just 'ow would the big nasty in the sky know that?"

"Because that son of a bitch is everywhere."

Detective Tapp joins in on the conversion.

"I've been looking at this place like I would a crime scene. Trying to make some sense of things. It ain't easy. But some things are and the Red Stain is one of them."

"'ow do you figure that, ol' man?"

"Boy, I will slap you if you call me that again."

David rolls his eyes.

"Now from what I've gathered, I suspect that the intensity of the Stain is directly linked to the range of the Terror Radius the Killer has, meaning that Killers with a shorter Terror Radius have a fainter Stain and Killers with a larger Terror Radius have a stronger Stain."

"Makes sense so far."

"I also suspect that the Stain works as means for the Entity to watch over the trials directly through the Killer's eyes. An indication of this being the case is the of that Killer ability Beast of Prey, as the Stain is gone because the Killer momentarily loses their connection to the Entity and is free to roam due to their bloodlust being so strong."

"So the moment her eyes made the Stain..."

"The Entity knew. Probably saw through Legion's eyes why it wasn't working on her. Nutty kid for thinking she could fight off something like the Entity."

"Then what do we do?"

A not wild Dwight appears.

"About her I mean."

The group looks at the unconscious member with uncertainty.

"As much as I hate to agree with Nea, she does make a point. If at any moment for any reason a team member can suddenly start attacking the team, that does make her a liable threat."

Claudette makes a point.

"But it wasn't for just any reason. She only snapped because she was angry. Angry that we didn't even treat her like she was on the team."

Dwight says somberly.

"*scoff* Severs you fuckers right then. It's about time there was somethin' to put douchebags in there place around 'ere."

Judgmental eyes are cast onto David.

"What?"

"You have an annoying habit of trying to fight the monsters."

"So?"

"You end up dying 96% of the time."

"'ey, you 'ave the respect my 4% chance of doin' anythin'."

"Maybe if it was actually helpful."

"Says the twat that spends 'is 'elpful time 'indin' in lockers."

"Hey!"

"Will you both shut it. You're bickering isn't helping anyone."

Dwight huffs and David mutters curses under his breath.

"So getting back to the point, we've covered the whole she'll hulk out when angry. But what do we do when she does get in smash mode?"

Quentin's age really shows sometimes.

"The kid makes a good point. A silly one, but a point none the less."

"Thanks?"

"But what do we do if she does become a killer? It's not like we can take down a normal monster."

"The same thing we do to every other monster..."

Nea shouts.

"Bash them over the head with pallets!"

Nea's guide to toxicity rule #1: If there is a chance to smack something with a pallet, do it!

"Yeah...No. That just pisses people off more."

"We're lookin' for ways to not make 'er mad. I think bein' bashed in the 'ead contradicts that."

Nea folds her arms uncaring.

"I don't care if it makes her mad. The goal is to make what's chasing you stop the chase."

"By pissin' them off even more?"

"It's called tactical frustration, dingus! You make the other person so mad that they want nothing to do with you anymore."

"So bein' a cunt?"

"Fuck you!"

"Fuck you."

*CROWS CAW*

Fluttering shadows morph from the trees and scatter across the ever glowing gloom of the sky. This garners attention above all other matters.

"The crows..."

"Damn it! The Entity was listenin'."

"It's always listening, dork. It just normally doesn't care about what it hears."

"It cared now."

Meg interjects.

"The real question is...Why?"

"In my experience, it's never a good thing for when a supernatural interdimensional elder god takes interest in anything human-related."

Ash rings in with blunt truth. When something beyond human understanding meddles in human affairs it rarely ends without great suffering of some kind. But who would suffer? One of them? All of them? Humans? Monsters? Who bloody well knows?! That's the terrifying aspect of it. Fate's unpredictability.

[Elsewhere: The Void]

My eyes slowly open to fog. Nothing but dark thick fog. The kind of fog that doesn't just blind you but fucks with your other senses. There's this weird floating feeling even though I know I'm touching the ground. Or what I assume is ground. It's something solid and I just choose to believe its ground because I don't want to think of what it could be otherwise. The air has no smell to it, it's dull and messes with my nose. It even has a faint charred smoky taste to it like you've just licked some burnt charcoal. And as for sound, there is none. There's nothing but this weird dead silence that is just eerie enough that I can sense something is around but again all there is quiet. Moving around to explore is not an option. Not that I can't move, I just choose not to because fuck you, I don't want to be automatically killed by unknown danger like the last time I went off into obvious danger zones.

[The Entity sees that you are learning, little worm. No longer running off into the unknown. Very wise.]

Well, that doesn't make me feel better about the situation.

"Look, I'm not gonna beat around the bush here. You can easily mess me up in ways I probably wouldn't begin to think of just for giggles and I'm not dumb enough to piss you off to do so. So in the bluntest way I can think of asking...What the fraggle happened to me and where/why am I here, oh mighty Entity?"

My attitude started to kick in near the end so I figured a little cuteness will keep me from being turned inside out or something else fucked up.

[My, the Entity forgets how bothersome you worms can be. It is no wonder why we do not speak so often. But it is understandable that a worm would be confused by what the Entity does.]

It is at this moment that I come to believe the Entity speaks in the third person and yet in a way that is still grammatically fitting. I guess ego is next to godliness.

[You, you odd and yet interesting little worm, are a strange creature even by what the Entity knows. The Entity has brought you here so that things would be...well...less of a hassle.]

"Sounds reasonable so far. Yet where is HERE exactly?"

[This is the Void. Or that is what you worms tend to call it. It is a different plane of existence. A place where the Entity stores the broken worms that are no longer of any use.]

I remember being told about this place. The Survivors that have given up and lost all hope end up here as they aren't useful food anymore. That explains the feelings this place is giving me.

"Wow. One trial and you deem me Void worthy? Must be a record."

This earns it a bit of a laugh.

[Amusing. No, little worm, you have not warranted a spot of permanence here...yet. The Entity has brought you here for two reasons. The first, to tell you of your role and personal skills in this delicious game. The second will come later.]

I got skillz!

[These skills or Perks are abilities that the Entity is generous enough to allow you to have. Each side is given three, so you worms are just as capable as the beasts. You may choose to share these perks with the other worms or keep them to yourself and hone them to make yourself better. The choice is yours and yours alone.]

So I can either be a decent person and increase the whole team's chances of living or I can be a dick.

[Your first perk is named after that clever move you pulled in the trial...Snowball's Chance.]

This orange diamond or square standing on its points pops up in front of me and it depicts a glob being thrown.

[Snowball's Chance: Activatable Perk. While within the Killer's Terror Radius and in a Chase for 45 seconds activates Snowball's Chance. Once Snowball's Chance is activated, you may be able to scoop whatever you can grab from the ground to throw at or away from the Killer. Choosing the away option will create a loud noise notification for the Killer at a distance of 10/15/20 meters and provides a helpful distraction provided the Killer goes for it. Choosing the at Killer option, if hit in the face, will momentarily blind them as well as stun them, whereas a normal body hit merely provides a stun. Snowball's Chance deactivates once it has been used.]

"That...sounds badass."

Honestly, it kind of feels like an RGP game where I made up a move for my character and some game developer thought it was just cool enough to put the character/move into their game. I'm a fucking nerd and love this shit! The image in the diamond changes to a pic of me crawling with a sneaky grin.

[The second perk is called...Skulker's Instinct.]

Sounds ominous.

[Skulker's Instinct: Always Active Perk. Years of isolation and distrust have taught you a thing about the benefits of paranoia. You crawl close to the floor instead of crouching, this prevents you from leaving Scratch Marks and gives you faster movement speed compared to crouching by 90/95/100%. This level of stealth allows you to avoid alerting Crows but does spook other Survivors if you bump into them, making them yelp and alerting the Killer. Also, if injured, you know better than to make a sound, you hold in the sounds of pain for the first time at least. Any future injuries will cause you to whimper.]

"I suppose that's fair. And I can be creepy as hell, so the random spooking seems about right."

[The third perk is quite delightful. It is called...Breaking Point.]

That one doesn't sound so good and the image of me looking unhinged doesn't help either.

[Breaking Point: Triggered Perk. Due to your mental toughness, you can handle most stressful situations that would cripple a normal person. But you are only human and even you have a limit where things start to get under your skin. The more your team screws around and the Killer attacks you or hinders your progress, the frustrating stress will begin to pile on until you can take it no longer. Resentment Tier I: Your annoyance level begins to grow, you are more agitated and on your guard. Your speed is reduced by 15% and preforming Skill Checks gets hard to do. Resentment Tier II: All effects of Tier I. The continued stress is not helping you, you can not trust your teammates with even the simplest task and the Killer is not making matters better either. Your frustration makes performing Skill Checks extremely difficult as you are not as focused. You aren't sure how much more you can take. Resentment Tier III: All effects of Tier II. You can no longer take it. Everyone is against you. They want you to die. You have no choice. You must kill or be killed!]

This has me disturbed, to say the least.

"Uh..."

[Which leads into your special ability. The Entity has dubbed it...The Anomaly State.]

"Special ability?"

[Yes, special ability. All Killers have one.]

I'm not liking this anymore.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa...Whoa! I am no killer."

[Oh sure. And what you did to Jake was merely some aggressive affection.]

"I didn't want to hurt him!"

[Yes you did.]

"No. I didn't!"

[Yes, you did. You wanted to hurt him for disrespecting you and talking down to you like some lowly worm. And how dare he do such a thing. He does not know you or your hardships. He lived a life of wealth and comfort. How dare he talk to you like he is superior.]

I know what it's doing. It's trying to talk to me like it's on my side. Like it cares. Appealing to me to make me believe in this false sympathy. It is cruel and manipulative...I fucking hate that It's worming into my head!

[And Dwight...He thinks he is so clever, telling you bits and pieces but not whole truths. If he was not willing to tell you everything before, what makes you think he will tell you anything now? Now that he has seen the beast in you.]

It's getting to me. I'm growling softly and making fists.

[Let us not forget David. Surely even you can see that he is merely using you. Pretending to be interested in something more when all he wants is your body. Do you believe that he will remain friendly once he had taken what he has wanted?]

Stop it! Stop making so much sense!

[Face it, little worm. It is as you have always known. You can not rely on others. They have their own motives and desires. No one will help you out of innocence. There is always something others want from you and will do anything to get it. Even if those means include toying with your very heart.]

"And why should I believe you? You have your own motives too."

[That is true. Yet my motive is very clear and the Entity can not lie. The Entity gains no matter if the beasts or worms are successful. The Entity is neither your friend or foe, though you may believe otherwise.]

Damn it! I hate it when something obviously bad makes incredibly good points!

[Now, if you will allow the Entity to continue, the Entity will explain further.]

I bite my tongue. Nothing I say matters to this thing anyway. It's only humoring me for the time being.

[Each Killer has a very unique Power. Each is distinct and stands out from the others. You are no different...and yet you are. This is due to your soul.]

"My soul?"

[Yes. That soul of yours is not natural for one of your kind. It is...rather delectable.]

Creepy.

[But its oddness is why we are speaking and why the Entity sees fit in gifting you such rare power.]

Dare I ask?

"And what be this power that you would bestow upon me?"

It's freaky in how I can almost feel it smirk. The diamond thing changes to a gray square and now shows a split shot of my face. One side is normal. The other side is like Batman villain Twoface.

[Special Ability: Anomaly State. Upon Breaking Point's Resentment Tier III activation, you will undergo a notable mental breakdown and such a snap opens you up to the Entity. The touch of the Entity leaves burning scars and blisters of light. Is it a gift or a curse? That's up to you as you become the Corrupted Survivor. This tainted essence is always within you, giving off a radius that Killers can pick up on and use to track you down similar to the one you can hear to know when a Killer is close by. As the Corrupted Survivor, you only have one goal...Survive. Your team is a liability, holding you down and keeping you in harm's way. Killing them will increase your odds of making it out alive. The fewer there are, the fewer things they can get in the way of. These actions will please the Entity but the real Killer might not be happy about you stealing its prey. True Killers can still attack and kill you in this state, so even they are just another obstacle in your way. You can not kill a Killer. But you can incapacitate them for a short time and allowing you to finish what you have started. Taking down a Killer grants you immeasurable Bloodlust, making your movement speed increase to 10.0 m/s and letting you see the auras of any remaining Survivors for 3 seconds.]

Not gonna lie, that both is blood-chilling and thrilling at the same time.

[However...]

Oh?

[Just as there are ways to trigger this False Killer state, there are ways to prevent and reverse you back to normal. So long as your team performs as you think they should and do not mess up often, Breaking Point will not activate. If Breaking Point is activated and only at Tier I, the effects can be undone by your team avoiding injuring for 2 minutes or repairing 1 generator. If Breaking Point is activated and at Tier II, your team will need to do better by avoiding damage for 4 minutes or repairing 2 generators. If Breaking Point is activated and at Tier III, Anomaly State will activate. If Anomaly State is active, your team can try to revert you to normal by either proving their worth in doing tasks needed to escape or cause you enough pain to regain some clarity. Proving their worth can be done by restoring generators, healing teammates, hindering the real Killer, and unlocking the gates. Clarity through pain is done by blinding with flashlights, being stunned with pallet drops, being disoriented by firecrackers, and being stabbed by carried victims. If Anomaly State is undone, there is a cooldown time of 4 minutes before Breaking Point can trigger again. Killers can also use pain to revert you to normal, with enough damage from clashing with the real Killer you will be back to being just another piece of meat waiting to be hooked.]

The square thing disappears but not the imprint of what has just been told to me. I am now a living version of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. At any point in a trial, I can be driven into such rage that I will start to kill my team.

[What say you, little worm? Do you like the gifts the Entity has given you?]

Don't be a smartass. This is basically a god you're dealing with. Pissing it off will only add more salt and acid to this wound I call existence. Though it could do without the condescending tone.

"Though I'm not sure why you've done so, I am flattered you've went to such trouble. Thank you, oh mighty Entity."

Why is it now that I realize I'm talking to a voice in my head? And why does it feel normal? I am strangely okay with this and I am not okay with that.

[Good. Very good. The Entity appreciates this version of you. Perhaps you are now more willing to play by the rules and will not have to be punished for very long.]

This confuses me.

"I'm sorry?"

[Oh, you will be. There are consequences for disobedience, little worm. And the Entity does not like it when others try to deny that which is meant to be.]

The ground beneath me rumbles for a moment before I lose my balance and end up impaled through the gut by something that has my heart stop. A spidery-like claw is jutting from my insides and weirdly enough there is no blood. Yet there is pain. Lots and lots of pain! My roar is harsh and hurts my throat. But the claw is merely the beginning. The ground pushes up more and more claws protrude out, making like I'm in the palm of a massive hand.

"Holy shit..."

The claws crush around me, twisting my torso to the side and pointing me up towards what I guess is a sky.

[You will be a good little worm and embrace the power given to you.]

"Yes! I swear I'll be good!"

The claws tighten, my bones ache in pain, and the claw coming out of me twitches slowly down to etch its tip against my head.

[And you will no longer harm yourself.]

"I promise! I promise!"

[Good girl.]

The claw's tip beings to force itself into my skull.

[While you do say the needed things, the Entity believes you should still learn from your defiance. It will be some time before your body regenerates the blood you lost during the trial and allow you to fully wake up. So till then, the Entity will happily make sure you know just how things work here. Your first lesson, what happens when you bring the displeasure of refusal and failure to please the Entity.]

It inches painfully deeper into my brain. My howls are deafening yet have no echo in this place, the fog damping all sound.

[Yes. Wail all you like. Suffering adds such flavor to the soul. And the fear...Tasty, tasty, beautiful fear. Truly it is the spice of life. You worms all taste so much better when you are afraid.]

This is merely the beginning of a very long and agonizingly drawn-out torture. Since this is basically my spirit/mind in this Void, any harm done is all going to further fuck over my mental health and probably going to make it easier to break when under similar stress. All I know is I'm not coming out of this unscathed.

(UNKNOWN AMOUNT OF TIME LATER)

With a loud gasp and violent bolt upright, I finally cast my eyes on something other than the claws of the Entity exploring new ways of doing awful things to me. My body is shaking. Ears ringing. And there's a searing burn coming from my chest. My senses are so dull that once I register that there's something on my shoulder I throw myself halfway across the camp in fear that the claws have come back and I hold myself in sheer fright. Of course that's not really the case. It was just David. Yet this does little to calm my panicking heart and rapid breathing.

"Whoa now. Take it easy, Luv. It's only me."

He takes a few steps towards me before stopping at the blocking arm of Jane.

"Oi, what's your deal?"

"Look at her. She needs a moment. Just give her a bit of space before you go over there."

He grumbles to himself but listens to the woman. Allowing me to regain some semblance of normality. My brain catches up to what is really around me and very slowly settles down from the adrenaline that comes from being fucking terrorized by the Entity for who knows how long. Speaking of which...

"H-How long?"

Did...Did my voice just crack? Geez, I'm messed up if I can't even control that basic function.

"How long what?"

Laurie comes near but keeps a fair distance from me.

"How long was I gone?"

This question has them looking at me funny. I don't like how they're looking at me.

"Gone?"

"Luv, you never left camp."

Granted, they have no clue what I meant by "gone". Still, telling me anything else like "we're not sure" or a number of trials that went by while I slept would be much better. Instead, this dumb answer feels like they're talking to me like a child and it pisses me off.

"Don't talk down to me and tell me how long I've been out!"

My head throbs, both in lingering pain and frustration.

"A while..."

Adam's input is made.

"At least ten or so trials past since you blacked out."

Okay, but what does that mean? A day? Two days? A week? Why haven't these numbnuts found a way to measure time?!

"Too long...Too god damn long..."

I move to stand but find my legs a bit wobbly. Claudette brings a medkit over.

"Try not to move around too fast or so much. You don't want to hurt yourself."

I huff a slight snarl.

"Don't waste that kit. Just teach me Self-Care so I can take care of myself."

Her face, among the others, is shocked.

"How do you know about...?"

"Your Perks?"

I cut her off merely to shut her up so I can explain. Otherwise, we'll be here playing 20 Questions till trial starts.

"I know your Perks. I know ALL of your Perks. It wouldn't let me leave without knowing everything. Forcing each and every bit of information you all failed to tell me so deep into my skull that I'm sure it erased what little childhood memories I had left to do so."

I point at her.

"Your three Perks are Botany Knowledge, Empathy, and Self-Care."

"I don't understand. We never told you..."

"Are you ignoring me or just stupid? It told me EVERYTHING. The Entity told me the things none of you ever bothered to. Like seeing Auras, Scratch Marks, Add-ons, Sabotaging Hooks, Cleansing Totems, and some weird-ass shit called the Bloodweb. Which, by the way, thank you all for being so nice in telling me. It really means a lot that you are all so nice and caring. Oh, wait, no you're not. You're all a bunch of bastards!"

My head pangs harder. A foreboding sense of dread tingles my spine.

"Easy now. Please calm down."

Dwight's voice seems almost distantly muffled in my ears.

"I know you're upset. But you don't need to get worked up over it."

This almost has me seeing red.

"Worked up? You haven't seen worked up. This isn't me upset. This is me after the Entity has had it's fun! Punishing me. Doing god awful things to me...Being killed by the monsters is a dream compared to the nightmare I suffered!"

Nea scoffs.

"Geez. Overly dramatic much?"

My eye twitches and the pain in my head is getting worse. I roar out in agonizing discomfort.

"Stop it! Stop pissing me off! I can't control the beast at Tier III!"

The mentioning of something like a tier gets attention. Though my throbbing head isn't helping me in trying to concentrate. Suddenly, mostly because the pain made my eyes shut, David surprises me by grabbing hold of my face and forcing me to lock eyes with him.

"Look at me. Ignore them, Luv. I got you. Block everythin' else that ain't me. Do that for me, Luv. I know you can."

His eyes. Dark brown and intense yet soft. Why can't I look away?

"That's my girl. Focus on this mug of mine and know it's gonna be okay."

It takes a moment before I regain the memory to blink. In this state, it's easy to get lost in those eyes of his. His smirk is also strangely reassuring.

"Heh. Trippy."

"What?"

"Did you know that your eyes change color?"

"Yeah. Not sure why or when it happens."

"They were kinda red-orange before and now dullin' to light brown."

"Normally they're ether light brown, hazel, light green, or some mix of those. Any other color is rare and just tends to happen."

He smiles.

"So...Feelin' better?"

"A little bit."

"Anythin' I can do to make that little bit bigger?"

I bite my tongue.

"Come on. You can tell me."

I start to blush.

"...Hug?"

He surprised yet I'm the one more shocked that he actually does it. His embrace has me feeling so weak. I tremble, wanting to give in and break down. To cry and let this pain out. But I don't. I won't let myself be so open. Not around them. Not even him.

"'ow about now?"

I just nod against him.

"Do you...I don't know...Wanna talk about stuff?"

[You may choose to share these Perks with the other worms or keep them to yourself and hone them to make yourself better. The choice is yours and yours alone.]

The Entity's words come back to me like a whisper on the wind. Part of me really wants to make them suffer as I have. But I don't want to be like them.

"Okay...But only because there's important stuff to tell you guys."

"Do you want me to stay by your side?"

"...Maybe."

He merely chuckles and musses up my hair playfully. While it is true, what the Entity said about him is something I've thought of when it comes to David's intentions, he sadly is the only one at camp I trust. That and he's not that bad of a guy to be around even if his flirting can get a bit tiresome.

With little coaxing, the others gather around the fire as I tell them what the Entity told me. I do my best to explain my three perks. Though it's the special ability that interests them the most. And can I blame them? Now they have confirmation that a team member can become a killer and attack them if things aren't going so well. It's a downright terrifying idea. One that I'm sure the Entity loves. Still, even though I am telling them these things, I refuse to share with them just how to use my perks for themselves. My faith in these people is nearly non-existent, not including David who's the one keeping me sane after all this crap. Plus, I'd rather understand these perks better myself before passing anything along to them. Frankly, the only ones they could use would be Snowball's Chance and Skulker's Instinct. Breaking Point would be useless to them as it serves no purpose other than to trigger my killer side which is exclusively a me thing. However, my reluctance to share my perks is not taken kindly.

"What kind of crap is this? You want us to share our perks but you won't share yours?!"

Feng beats Nea to the punch on being pissed off.

"I just found out about these things. Let me understand how they work."

"What's there to understand? You throw shit and you're stealthy. There. I did it for you."

Now Nea says her bit.

"If it's so simple then why can't you do it?"

Meg sticks up for me.

"Because fuck you, that's why."

"Cunt, would you shut up. Luv's not askin' for all our perks. Just one. And it ain't even yours."

David is right. I've only asked for one perk and it's Claudette's Self-Care. It unlocks the ability to heal yourself without a Med-Kit at 50% the normal Healing speed and increases the efficiency of Med-Kit self-heal by 10%, for Claudette herself this is 20%. I asked for this skill so that damage wouldn't bother me as much and trigger my killer side. But I guess assholes can't see the big picture what with their head being so far up their butts.

"Call me a cunt again, you Limey bastard! I fucking dare you!"

"And your lot wonders why the rest of the world hates ya."

I tug on David's ear and he whines.

"'ey, what was that for?"

"You don't need to keep throwing logs on her fire. Just ignore it and eventually the heat will die down."

He looks at me funny before draping his thick arm around my shoulders.

"Ah, Luv, 'ad we ever met outside of this place I don't think we'd go very far."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"Because you'd be tryin' to talk me out of fightin'. And me not bein' able to fight just ain't right."

I simply smirk.

"Fair enough. But...We'd still be cool otherwise, right?"

"A rockin' bird like you? Oh yeah. I'd be a right proper git to not be interested in keepin' you around."

"Heh. You're not such a bad bloke yourself, Scrappy-Doo."

"...I was goin' to say it's sexy when you use English, but you killed it by callin' me that cartoon dog."

"Yet the resemblance is uncanny."

"Hey!"

Oh right, Nea's still here and being annoying.

"Don't act like I'm not here."

"Nea, just stop it already."

Ace speaks up.

"The kid has a right to learn her skills before giving them away."

"Up yours, old man."

"Know what..."

Bill interjects.

"I seem to recall a time when you flat out told us to 'shove it' when we asked about your perks."

"Yeah...well...*scoff* Fine! Do whatever. I don't care anyway."

She storms away to be as far from the fire and me as possible without leaving the safety zone.

"Geez, she can be such a bummer for a kid."

Kate remarks as she tunes up her nice acoustic guitar. And that gets my attention.

"Um...Where did you get that from?"

She looks at the guitar.

"Oh, this? I bought it off the Entity."

I look at her funny.

"What?"

"Seems the Entity told up about the mechanics of trials but not the rewards for doing them."

Jake states with a tone that lets me know he's still ticked at me for getting him killed.

"What do you mean 'rewards'?"

Jeff clears his throat to get my attention.

"So the Entity told you about the Bloodweb, right? How that it uses Bloodpoints to get Add-ons and that you gain Bloodpoints during the Trials by performing certain actions."

Dear lord don't tell me it's another long as fuck exposition rant.

"Yeah?"

"Well, aside from Bloodpoints, there are two other forms of currency. Iridescent Shards and Auric Cells. Iridescent Shards can be used to bribe the Entity into gifting you a copy of someone else's perk but that's super expensive. Typically like 2,000 or 2,700 shards. Depends on the Entity's mood. Auric Cells are super rare and are a pain in the ass to collect, but they're worth it. With enough Auric Cells, the Entity will make things a lot more entertaining by letting us get new clothes and items that make living here just a bit more bearable. You get both these things in varying amounts as rewards for how well you did in Trials and you might not even know you have any if no one tells you about it, but you can check how much you have when you go into the Bloodweb."

I just stare at him and soak this in.

"And the cool part is, once you get these things, you can have them permanently. No need to re-get something if you've decided to change. Just think about it and pesto. New duds and stuff."

My brain is starting to fail at taking this information.

"You alright there, Luv?"

"Just...I can't seem to understand the logic of the Entity."

"Don't bother trying..."

Dwight chirps.

"We've been here for what feels like ages and we still have no clue when it comes to that thing."

"I just think it's a little weird. The Entity wants us to die so it can feed off of our souls. It wants us to be afraid of it and die. That's how it gets the best taste out of us. Yet it gives us a place to relax? Then grants us items of comfort? Granted, this is probably to make us last long as a source of food as the useless are sent to the Void. But still...If it can already pull people from different points in time and across other timelines, then why not amass a large city's worth of humans to compensate for any that break easily and not cater to the needs of said humans?"

I like to think this is a well thought out point. I mean, I don't understand beings of alternate realities nor do I claim to. But when I'm hungry, I don't go out to a restaurant and get only some water. Sure, drink enough water and eventually, you'll get full. Yet it's nothing compared to an all you can eat buffet. So why is it content with the few random stragglers that wander in? It doesn't make sense to me.

"It doesn't waste..."

Tapp mutters before hammering his fist into his palm.

"It doesn't waste us. It may feed on us slowly over time. But it will feed until there's nothing left. Like sucking the very last drops of juice out of the box."

"So then the longer we last and keep our hope up..."

Quentin needed to interject for some reason.

"The longer it can continue to feed on a smaller number of victims without too much effort or attention. Like a small-time crook getting away with petty crimes because of a larger more noticeable syndicate has the cops focus."

Could he not refer to his law enforcement career? We get it. You were a cop. That shit doesn't matter here, Tapp!

"You know, for a group of people that don't try to understand the Entity, you understand it more than you think when someone questions things."

Again, I like to think I make good points. And their expressions only further this thought.

"We can increase insights by exposing ourselves to lots of different ideas that might help us form new connections."

All eyes look at Nea who randomly spouted that rather insightful quote.

"What? I know shit too. Douche turds think I can't be smart or something?"

I would crack some remark if I gave a shit. Frankly, I'm sick of letting that bitch piss me off so easily. I should take the advice David and even myself gave earlier, ignore her. Ignore everything that ticks me off. I can't become a killer if I don't let things get to me.

"So..."

Claudette moves over to me.

"I know you told us how your perk works. But do you know if it's only applicable in trials?"

I merely tilt my head in confusion.

"Beg your pardon?"

"She means can you go nuts in camp."

Jake spits and I just shrug.

"No clue. As chatty as the Entity was, it didn't tell me that."

"Figures as much."

"Still, you can never be too safe. Best not get on my bad side."

Probably not the best thing to remotely joke about. Though David tries to play this tension off by yanking me into a headlock and nuggying me till I'm surly growling.

"Awww...Such a big bad killer you are. So threatenin' with that cute face."

"*snarls* Will you quit fucking with my hair?!"

"Oh? And what'cha gonna do about it, Luv?"

I bite his forearm yet he merely laughs. This leads into some mildly aggressive horseplay on both our parts. Despite the oddity that this interaction is it does serve to show that while I am now a threat, that it doesn't mean I'm not human. I'm still me. A nutty weirdo goon that got stuck here just like they did. They can die and so can I. We are all prey. My power in the grand scheme of things changes nothing.

Still, something feels uneasy. While things return to normal and the occasional chat, I get this odd sense of being watched. Well, a different one from the feeling of the eyes of the other survivors. No, this one feeling is off. Predatory. A feeling I once felt long before I had my trial. There's a monster in the woods. The question remains of who it is and why is it skulking around? Is it Legion? Did he come to see me squirm? Or is this someone else? Someone I haven't met yet? I have so many questions!

[Elsewhere: Survivor Campsite Woods]

He watched from his spot as he had done so for quite some time since that fateful meeting. He wasn't going to miss any chance to prove the others wrong. To show that he was worthy. And he was going to use the new meat to do so. His patience paid off this time, as the human was once more up and about after many hunting cycles of just lying still like a corpse. Luck was even further on his side as he intently listened in on their ramblings and learned that the others weren't that far off in their theories on her strange power. This human, if provoked enough, will become a killer just like him. The thought of seeing such a sight made him excited. Such a moment needed to be preserved for posterity. With some careful hand placement, he makes a bold move and readies the shot that will mark his road to respect.

*CLICK*

The small camera's flash was obscured but there was nothing to stop the shutter sound. A few of the humans picked up on it and dismissed it for normal odd noise. Though the new meat is less swayed to ignore the sound. Her eyes search for any hint of something different lurking in the foggy shadows.

lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...lub-dub...

He could hear his heartbeat. Strange, as he didn't think he had a heart to begin with. One of the other humans pulls her attention from investigating further and a sudden thrill has him. He's never been caught before yet his stealth nearly failed him here. This was exciting. Turning the camera around, he looked at the image capture and smirked to himself. Yes...Things were going to be fun for Ghost Face.

#undertale #dead by daylight #Lynsie #Anomaly #lynchtale

[chanyueda]

Harmless Prank My Ass

In celebration of April Fools, I made a rather shitty fanfic but anyone who reads this hope yall enjoy my mediocre writing (it was 4 pages long in google docs -- its long right)

Confessions to your crushes seem like a generic, recurring way of pranking someone, especially during April 1st. It’s April Fools Day, harmless pranks are everywhere. Pranks that involve coming out, hurting someone and the like aren’t tolerated during this day, but what if it sounded so genuine you nearly forget its April Fools? Can you actually say, “it’s just a prank bro!” when feelings are involved? They all tell us to not play with other people’s feelings, and today shouldn’t be an exception to that rule. Every word you say holds weight in other people’s minds.

That’s what he failed to do, being a goofy, happy-go-lucky guy that he is. He is not an ignorant though, he just wanted to play a harmless prank one of his co-workers. He’d plan it so perfectly it’s not bound to fail, or so he thought.

Today was now April 1st, everyone else in Buzzfeed is already playing pranks on anyone they find on the office. Someone had put an air horn on one of the office chairs, waiting to be “blown” by whoever sat on that chair. There were no pranks done on Steven when he walked on towards his spot towards the back. He peacefully sank on the office chair, thinking of the perfect time to execute the planned prank. It wasn’t now, that he was sure, since the person he wanted to place the prank on was nowhere near his spot on the office.

“Must be shooting for Eating Your Feed. Oh well.”

So Steven started researching for new ideas for Worth It. Lately they haven’t shot anything for a new season, and the fans are currently trying to get hold of them because they’ve been away for so long. What’s more, the fans fear that they might not actually come back, due to the fact that Steven now lives in New York; they think that moving back and forth from LA to New York would be quite a hassle for him, hence the reason why they fear the series being discontinued. He’d actually reassured them of their comeback though, but it’s not about food. At least, they’d be getting a Worth It season.

While scrolling away on the iMac, he’d seen his target exiting from the elevator, looking all tired and sweaty. Some co-workers wanted to prank him but he just passed them by, now sinking to the soft, comfy office chair with a sigh.

“Rough day?”

“Yeah.”

Well this wasn’t the perfect moment to do the prank.

“Wanna eat out later?” He had an extremely goofy smile that seemed to radiate happiness to whoever sees it. That smile that immediately sent butterflies fluttering in on Andrew.

“Sure, why not?”

The plan was already in execution, little did he know. Andrew was completely unaware of what was going to happen later, sadly, he can’t prepare himself for it. He had a plan of his own too, but preferred not to do it today as he deemed the day was not appropriate for it. It’s April Fools Day after all, not the best time to admit what you actually feel for someone.

Hours later, the plan was still commencing. The two fancy boys already got out of the office, having a conversation on where to eat. Since the start of Worth It, they’ve noticed their palate changing, they haven’t been getting much fast food lately. They’ve been getting “exquisite” foods but still on an affordable price. Today, they just decided to eat at Shake Shack, since they can’t think of any place to go to.

Shake Shack was bumbling with people, as usual. Steven told Andrew to get seats for them. He just shrugged and went to the far back, away from chatters and noisy kids. While waiting in line, Steven already composed himself for this. It wasn’t the most perfect time but this time, there is an opportunity to do the plan as followed.

Once he’d ordered, the both of them just sat there and ate, no conversations transpired. The atmosphere seemed really different, something was off with one of them.

“You’re unusually quiet today.” Andrew observed, taking a curly fry in his mouth. “Not used to it.”

“I just...have a lot on my mind right now.” He excused. “I want to tell something to this person but I don’t know if they’ll be fine with it…”

Andrew took a sip of the milkshake, “Well, you’ll never know unless you do it.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

Silence soon followed, neither of them spoke a thing or two. Steven was still doing his pretend nervousness while Andrew just continued with being his casual self.

“Stop that.”

Steven has been absentmindedly forking the fries. “Oh, sorry.  It’s just that…”

“What? Still nervous?”

“Kinda…”

Small talk won’t do.

“About the whole thing earlier...well, how should I put it…” Steven wasn’t pretending anymore, he was actually fidgeting right now. He’d went back to forking the fries. Something had settled within himself, doubtful thoughts swirling inside of his mind. “I should...man up and say it, right?”

“Yeah, I mean, that was what a decent guy would do.”

Steven took a long sigh before saying, “I...kinda like you.” He’d patiently waited for any kind of reaction that would emanate from his friend but he only saw confusion. Moments later, there was a slight relief that was present in his green eyes and a smile ceased to reveal itself. Soon enough, it was replaced with a frown.

“Honestly...I didn’t...expect that.” Andrew whispered the last sentence. “Maybe it was mutual after all.”

“That’s the whole point of jokes, dude! You don’t expect them!” Steven was giggling out of himself, unaware of what is actually transpiring before him. His friend looked at him sadly, ceasing any kind of unwanted feelings to appear, any kind of words that threatened to be spoken out.

Andrew stood up almost suddenly, earning a look from other people. He didn’t give a damn anymore, that was sure. He felt mad now, mad at Steven, which he never felt not until now. The silver haired guy was still unaware of everything else, not until Andrew started to take small steps away from their spot. He’d finally exited Shake Shack with a deep frown on his features, still not believing that everything, every word was just a joke. Of course, Steven was now aware that he’d left him alone, so he chased after his friend. Luckily, he was just still outside of the establishment.

“Those kinds of pranks should never be done in the first place, Steven. Playing with other people’s feelings is not a healthy habit, and you of all people should know that.” He seethed as soon as he felt Steven behind him. “You could potentially hurt someone...permanently.”

“P-Permanently?”

“Just like how other people would have trust issues because someone decided to play them like a fucking ragdoll.” He faced him. “Do you understand what I’m saying?!”

So this was the unsettling feeling that he felt earlier. Steven knew he shouldn’t have done this, but still he did. What the hell was wrong with him, anyway? Now, his friend’s gone mad, and the reasons were still unclear to him. Sure, he was angry because feelings got played on but is that it? There was something with the way these words were said.

“S-Sorry...it was supposed to be harmless prank…”

“Harmless prank?! How was that harmless?! Okay, fine, you didn’t hurt anyone physically, but you’ve hurt me emotionally! That still counts as harmful!”

“Why are you getting so aggressive about it?!” It was now Steven’s turn to raise his voice. He was still confused after all, and the only way to clear this up was to ask a question, but he didn’t intend for it to sound that way.

“You wouldn’t even need to know because you never take things seriously.” He snapped, causing Steven to let out tears that he’d been holding back since then.

“You didn’t need to go that far...I only wanted to know your reason…”

He sighed, “Would you take it seriously if I told you right now,” he started wiping those tears off of Steven’s cheeks, “that I actually thought that what you told me was...hmm, mutual?”

Instead of understanding the situation, Steven only got more confused. “Mutual? What?”

“What I’m saying was I thought we liked each other. You know...more than this?”

Steven seemed to have stopped crying now, finally coming to a realization that Andrew likes him.

“The...love type of like or…”

“That type. What else?” Andrew chuckled. “You fancy, silly boy.”

He flicked Steven’s forehead, and kissed it right after. “Maybe I ought to say I love you, instead of I like you.”

#standrew #fanfic #april fools #mediocre writing #harmless prank

[swhurtcomfort]

Fall Apart, Fall Together --- Chapter 5

Chapter 4      AO3

.......................

While Obi-Wan meditates, grappling with the Force for a clue as to Anakin’s whereabouts, Padmé takes matters into her own hands. She digs up the visitor log from her own medical file and finds the identity of the person who dropped off the note for Anakin. A quick holonet search informs her that it is one of the Chancellor’s personal assistants. There’s no doubt in her mind that that’s where Anakin has gone.

“Come on!”

She drags Obi-Wan by the wrist, startling him out of his trance.

They arrive at the Senate complex, running past the sounds of ambulance speeders in the street.

Padmé heads straight for the commotion in front of the main entrance to try to see what happened. Obi-Wan follows, scrunching up his face as if it were too loud.

“Padmé,” he says, his voice strained in a way that scares her. “He’s inside. And he’s in pain. I—”

Obi-Wan breathes in sharply. The color starts to drain from his face.

“What, Obi-Wan?” Padmé demands. He doesn’t answer. “Screw it, just come on then, I know a back way in.”

Obi-Wan allows himself to be led along, holding his head. Padmé takes them around a corner and uses her access chip to open a side door

Once inside, Obi-Wan slumps back against the wall, grimacing.

“Are you ill? Is it some kind of Force thing?”

“The fourth floor,” he chokes out. “Go, hurry,”

He looks like he’s in pain. He’d said Anakin was too. Padmé promises to return soon with Anakin, then hurries towards the lift.

On the fourth floor, the hair on Padmé’s arms starts to stand up. She wishes suddenly that she’d brought her blaster. Then, just as quickly, she is thankful that she didn’t.

It isn’t hard to find Anakin. He is waiting by another lift, wobbling impatiently on the balls of his feet. He doesn’t appear to be suffering as Obi-Wan was. When he hears her approach, he turns stiffly, and Padmé’s blood runs cold.

“Ani!”

“Padmé,” he says in a low voice. He accepts her hands into his. “E-Everything is going to be alright now.” He doesn’t sound sure.

“Yes,” she says. “It is. Ani, let’s go somewhere far away from here.”

“No. Masters Windu and Fisto are upstairs. They’re going to arrest the Chancellor.”

Padmé freezes, caught off guard. “On what charges?” Anakin doesn’t answer. “What do you know?!”

The lift opens, and he steps inside. “Wait for me here.”

“No.” Padmé throws her arm across the automatic doors so they won’t close. “Ani, are you going up there to help them, or stop them?”

He trembles, jamming the door-close button even though it’s futile. “I-I don’t know.”

“Anakin, don’t be rash,” says Padmé. “The Jedi Council is…often misinformed, but they aren’t dictators.”

Anakin takes a small step towards the platform. Padmé needs to get him out of that lift. She continues, “Whatever’s going on, we can entrust to the republic. To justice.”

“I’ve had enough of the Jedi Council’s justice!” he spits. Just for a moment, a strange light flickers across his eyes.

“What do you mean? Obi-Wan wants you to speak with them tomorrow, he said he thinks he can reason with them on your behalf. You’re lucky to have an ally—”

Anakin’s eyes flicker again, decidedly yellow this time with renewed rage when she says his name. “Obi-Wan was in favor of what they’ve done to me—”

“What have they done?” Padmé asks. “And what do they think the Chancellor has done?”

“—and I didn’t see him sticking his neck out for Snips, either did you?”

Padmé shakes her head. On that they can agree. “He wants to help us, Ani. Something is happening, something in the Force and it’s hurting him. Is it hurting you too? Is it Dark?”

Anakin steps out of the lift onto the platform, holding Padmé’s hand. But he looks back over his shoulder.

“It doesn’t matter. I need Palpatine’s help—it doesn’t matter what he is. That’s how we’re going to save the babies.”

“They don’t need saving,” says Padmé. “And neither do we.” She lets go of the doors, and lets the lift shoot upwards without them.

……

Bail gives Padmé the full story, but even if he hadn’t, it’s all over the holonews. Three Jedi died in the Senate complex that day, and a fourth—Windu, according to most sources—is under investigation for his role in the Chancellor’s death. Most believe he will be held guiltless, security tapes clearly showing his actions to have been in self-defense.

Obi-Wan had recovered his faculties by the time Anakin had made up his mind, and rushed to help an injured Windu to the Jedi Healers while Anakin and Padmé slipped off unnoticed. There are rumors that Obi-Wan and the 212th were almost immediately sent off-planet again. Bail’s informants can’t agree on where they have gone—at least, until a new story breaks and the holo footage of him discharging a blaster neatly into Grevious’s heart is playing on every channel, practically on loop.

The galaxy is in tatters. The tide of the war has turned on a dime, and the majority of its citizens don’t understand why.

Several days later, Obi-Wan finds his way back to the medcenter. Padmé supposes it was inevitable.

“Are you ever going to pick up your comm, Anakin?” he asks, entering the room without waiting to be invited.

“Depends who’s calling,” Anakin retorts.

“They’ve grown quite a bit,” Obi-Wan gestures to Luke, lying on his stomach on Anakin’s bare shoulder.

“That’s what babies do.”

They lapse into uncomfortable silence.

“The Council…” Obi-wan begins, and Anakin stiffens. He soldiers on. “The Council wants to commend you for finding the Sith, Anakin. There will be no more talk of disciplinary action for any breach of the Code that might have occurred. It is an invitation, no questions asked.”

Anakin lifts his gaze, almost daring to hope. But he sees Obi-Wan watching him hold his infant son, and he knows it isn’t going to be that easy.

“They are my family,” he says simply.

“The Jedi are our family,” Obi-Wan counters, a note of frustration slipping through his façade.

“What do they want me to do, abandon them?”

“Arrangements can be made to ensure that Padmé and the twins are comfortable. You would do best to formally request not to be assigned to any more missions in the Senate, moving forward.”

When Anakin doesn’t immediately respond Obi-Wan continues, “And in a few years, if Padmé wishes them to be raised in the crèche, I’m sure the Order will be enriched by their talents, but you will limit your contact. Or at least be inconspicuous about it. Attachments fade, Anakin. I know it is painful.”

Bitterness wells up in Anakin. He wants to have it both ways, but he knows he can’t – Obi-Wan doesn’t have to be so obtuse. Luke starts to cry.

“You say you know, but have you ever found something worth leaving for? Do you know what that feels like?”

Obi-Wan clears his throat. “There have been times…but I was wrong, Anakin. There have been times I’ve considered it—wanted it desperately, but I have always chosen the Order.”

“I guess we can’t all be perfect Jedi.”

“Anakin,” says Obi-Wan, tears brimming in his eyes. “You are a fine Jedi—”

“Not anymore,” he says quietly. "I can't be, and I don't want to be." There is a different path before him now. He braces himself for the incoming lecture, but there is no anger flowing from Obi-Wan’s Force presence, only deep sorrow.

“Then you are lost,” says Obi-Wan.

Anakin turns to hand the sobbing Luke to a nurse, because his own hands won’t stop trembling. 

Obi-Wan slowly pulls two objects from within the folds of his cloak and leaves them on a table before he turns to leave, averting his gaze. They’re two little beanbag toys in the shape of tiny bantha.

Anakin shuts himself in a closet and allows himself to break down in angry tears.

……

The war is over. They have a chance to breathe, and a chance to grieve.

Anakin’s sleep is deep and dreamless these days, but he lies awake wrestling with questions, and with choices. Wonders if it’s okay to miss Obi-Wan and be so unfathomably angry with him at the same time. Wonders whether it’s okay that he kind of misses Palpatine. He misses the idea of a benevolent grandfatherly confidant, even if the logical part of his brain understands that that person never existed—that Sheev Palpatine was always Sidious in masquerade. Wonders how it could have all gone differently.

Padmé is quickly realizing how many complicated questions this shift has created, and she’s itching to do something about them. Bail is heading up a subcommittee on the legal rights and future settlement of the clone troopers, Mon is appointed interim Chancellor and hard at work organizing a referendum, and Padmé hears news from Sola about sticky situation of filling Palpatine’s seat back on Naboo. But there are also more pressing concerns, starting with her own health. The first month of the babies’ lives has been so regimented and clinical, Padmé and Anakin both mourn the loss of all the ‘normal’ rituals of new parenthood. But the medcenter staff encourage them to be as involved as possible in feeding and changing and caring for the twins. They hold them whenever they can, and read and sing to them when they can’t.

The day finally comes that the little family is ready to leave for Naboo. They do so in a free galaxy.

Padmé has been watching Anakin all morning. She knows he is hoping Obi-Wan might come to see them off, but privately she wishes he wouldn’t get his hopes up.

“You’ve checked the transport half a dozen times, love. Come sit down.”

Anakin sinks down into the seat next to hers. The babies are sleeping, buckled safely into their seats.

Padmé takes his hand and squeezes it. He sighs and kisses the top of her head.

...

Go to Chapter 6

#anidala #anakin #padme #obi-wan #fix it au #star wars fic #one more chapter to go! #i promise there will be emotional resolution w Obi-Wan #I'm not that mean lol #mpost

[bat-losers-inc]

Collisions in the Dark (Ch 16): Bad Bishop

Pairings: Tim Drake/Jason Todd (one sided)

Summary: With Jason gone, Tim’s living situation inside the manor becomes an unbearable affair as everything’s flipped on its head: suddenly he’s seeking out enemies and betraying friends. And the ever so persistent thought at the back of his head: what does that make Jason? Enemy or Ally? 

Chapter Notes: Bad Bishop: A bishop whose movement is restricted by friendly pawns on its color squares. These friendly pawns are in turn restricted by enemy pawns or pieces, thereby being unable to vacate squares for the bishop.

“Everybody, it seems, is going or dying in this cold mean spring.” — “The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath”, Sylvia Plath

Tim stood in the backyard of the manor as the early morning sun struggled to rise above the manor’s brick wall. His boots crunched in the frosty grass as he shuffled his feet in an attempt to generate some warmth in his toes. Despite the chill of the autumn morning, the phone wedged in Tim’s coat pocket felt hot enough to burn a hole through the lining.

He’d gotten the text yesterday, late in the afternoon.

I hope you don’t think this is over, Detective. We’re very far from being finished.

An earlier self might have thought the idea of Ra’s texting him hilarious. As it was, however, all Tim could do in that moment was stare down at the screen in silent horror, before typing out a hasty reply.

I’m not playing this game.

Ra’s’ answer came smoothly a moment later.

Oh but you are.

It was only then when Tim’s shaking fingers hovered over the keys that he realized he shouldn't have responded at all. He couldn't help it. The only way he could rationalize an action so stupid was from an intense desire for Ra’s, and all of the issues that came with him, to just go away.

Tim had deleted the texts from his phone and blocked the number, but he knew that wouldn't be the end of it.

Far from it.

He clutched his phone in his hand,  willing the trembling to stop.

He’d barely made it through dinner, force feeding himself small bites of food despite his sudden lack of an appetite.

Tim shivered and wrapped his coat tighter around his body. He flexed his hands inside the pockets of his coat, afraid that the trembling might start up again. It had been so hard to stop before.

If someone were to notice…

He was startled when the door banged open behind him. He turned to see Dick stumbling towards him, hissing curses as his bare feet made contact with the icy lawn.

“You scared the shit out of me when I didn't find you in your room. Jesus, Tim. What the hell are you doing standing out here?”

Tim shrugged a shoulder. “Couldn't sleep.”

Dick threw him an exasperated look before motioning for Tim to follow him inside. Tim complied. It was easier to go along with his family’s not-so-subtle attempts at watching his every move. They switched off every day or so and but Dick was always on morning duty since he was the earliest riser in the household. He supposed it could be worse. He could be stuck with Damian and his intrusive questions.

Dick sat on the edge of the couch, rubbing warmth into his bare feet as Tim stood behind the couch shedding his coat and boots.

Tim looked towards the kitchen. “Has anyone made coffee yet?”

Dick shook his head. “We’re the first ones up. Alfred’s at the store.”

“Right. I'll go start a pot.”

Dick followed him into the kitchen and watched Tim as he scooped out coffee grounds and filled the machine with tap water.

Tim sighed and turned towards Dick. “Whatever you want to say, just say it.”

Dick propped his hand against his fist. “So, you’re not sleeping?”

“Could you blame me?” asked Tim.

“No.” Dick grunted. “Is there anything I could do to help?”

“Doubt it. I'm beginning to realize that the best thing I can do is keep my mind occupied.”

“If that’s what you think you need to do, then that’s what you gotta do.”

He paused.

“I talked to Bruce last night. He said you can patrol with Cass and Steph tonight… if you’re up to it, that is.”

Tim made a noise low in his throat. “Group patrol? Haven't done that since I was starting out as Robin.”

“Numbers are your friend right now, Tim.”

Tim threaded a hand through the hair at the back of his head. “Yeah, no. I know.”

“I think it’ll be good for you. Some sense of normalcy, right?”

Normal. Tim didn’t know the meaning of the word anymore. If Tim thought that his first days back home had been awkward and tense, the days following Jason’s departure had been exponentially worse. He meant what he’d said to Dick. The only thing that was saving him from curling up under the blankets and telling the world to go fuck itself without him was his work. He took on his family’s cases, using his insomnia for some good. He had a feeling if he hadn’t he would have lost his mind a lot sooner with the only thing to occupy his attention being tracking the slow progress of time, watching the moonlight creep slowly across his bedroom wall.

He threw himself into his work… and not just the cases. He spent just as much time on his own project, in other words, his burning desire to end this cat and mouse game that he was playing with Ra’s. For good.

After all, what else did he have at this point?

He pulled every file on Ra’s that he could find, sorted out Ra’s’ allies and enemies, and worked on making those enemies indebted to him once every other strategy had been exhausted.

The enemy of my enemy is my friend, thought Tim, and like Dick had been telling him, he was sorely in need of some friends at the moment. He didn’t dare involve any of the members of the Young Justice or the Titans. Perhaps the only one he would ever consider would be Connor. Except Connor wasn’t around to protect him anymore.

He hadn’t been aware of how far his thoughts had wandered until he heard Dick calling his name.

“Tim?”

Tim shook his head, as if to knock his thoughts back to the here and now.

He forced his lips up into a weak smile he didn’t feel and replied, “Right. Yeah, tell them I’ll go.”

Dick smiled. Tim thought it might have been the first sincere one he’d seen in awhile. It was different than those pitying ones he’d been getting from everyone for the past couple of days… like Dick believed that Tim was taking the first step in the right direction… back to his old self.

It didn’t make Tim feel any less uneasy.

“Better go dust off that uniform for tonight.” Dick clapped him on the back.

Tim brushed his fingertips over the recent patch job on his Red Robin suit, Alfred’s handiwork present in the neat line of stitches. He smoothed the fabric of the suit down against the shelf it was laid atop. The same shelf that Tim had discarded his uniform on before starting out on his mission.

With his eyes, Tim found the remaining parts of his suit.

He paused, looking it all over. Curiously, Tim riffled through the shelves positioned around the showers. There was a chance that Bruce would have anonymously dropped it off at the nearest police station, or given it to Dick to do it for him. But if Alfred got to it first, it had probably just been stashed away until it could be discreetly handed back to its rightful owner.

And there it was, stuffed under an unopened package of ace bandages. He guessed Alfred hadn’t gotten the chance to return it.

Jason’s gun, tucked into the the thigh holster he’d given Tim that night before they found themselves in an alleyway with a dead man at their feet.

Tim’s fingers hesitated over it. He was almost certain that Jason wouldn’t want him to have it.

He rested his fingers on top of the cold metal for a moment, debating with himself, before taking it into his had. After a few seconds the gun didn’t feel so cold anymore, the steel warmed by the heat of his hand. It felt heavy in a reassuring way, like the promise of protection crafted out of steel.

Holding it out in front of him, Tim felt safer than he had in awhile. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, trying to hold that feeling in for as long as possible.

Ra’s’ message came back to him. We’re very far from finished.

Tim disagreed. He planned on ending this once and for all.

He tucked the gun into the middle of his folded uniform and took the pile of clothing and gear under his arm. Making his way out of the cave, he thought to himself, I meant what I said. I’m not playing your game, Ra’s. Tonight’s the night that I prove that to you.

As to be expected, Tim tried to ditch Stephanie and Cass the first opportunity he got. They were surprisingly hard to lose, and it took no less than ten minutes before they were climbing in through the smashed window of Jason’s apartment after him.

Tim stood in the middle of the living room with his back to them. Steph approached him slowly, her boots crunching with each step she took on the glass strewn floor.

“Did you come here looking for Jason?”

Tim looked around the damaged room. “I don’t know.”

He really didn’t. Whether he’d come here alone with the hope that it would lure Ra’s into a trap or in the hope that he might find Jason there, he couldn’t say for sure. His head was a mess at the moment. In any case, Ra’s hadn’t taken the bait and Jason’s gun rested useless in one of the pockets of his utility belt.

Tim made his way carefully over to Jason’s bedroom. Jason’s bed was a mess of untucked sheets, the comforter thrown to the end of the bed.

Tim picked up a rumpled t-shirt, discarded on the bed.

“He just needs some space to think, Tim.” continued Steph. She had followed him here too, but stopped warily in the doorway, as if sensing that this was a space she wasn’t privy to. “I’m sure when he’s ready to talk, he’ll come find you.”

Tim turned to look at her over one shoulder. “This is going to sound incredibly rude, but at the moment I’m honestly too exhausted to mince words.”

Steph tucked her arms across her chest. “Just say it, Tim. You won’t hurt my feelings.”

“I know that you think you’re helping me by ‘being there for me’ and all that shit, but if I have to spend one more minute talking about my ‘feelings’, I’m going to start hurting people. I know it makes all of you feel like you’re actually helping me through this, but the truth is you’re wasting my time and my patience. I don’t need to ‘talk’. I don’t need a hug. I need space to myself and a way to stop Ra’s. Feel free to pass that on when you have your next family meeting to discuss my mental state.”

Despite her bold words before, Tim could sense that he’d struck a harsh blow. He didn’t mean to lash out at her, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel bad enough to apologize for his words.

Steph pressed her lips together and nodded stiffly.

“Sure. I’ll give you some time to yourself.”

Tim waited until she closed the door behind her before he sat down on the edge of Jason’s bed. He fisted his hands tightly into the soft material of Jason’s t-shirt and brought it up to his face, breathing deeply.

The faint smell of citrus greeted him, perhaps leftover residue from Jason’s body wash. It was far from the smell of sweaty sheets Tim remembered from his first night with Jason or the crisp smell of dried out grass from that night they’d laid together in that field. This was a foreign scent, a version of Jason before Tim.  

Tim pulled his face free of the soft material, now partially damp from where it had made contact with his watery eyes. He smoothed out the wrinkles his fingers had made in the material and folded the shirt up neatly, unzipping his suit partially until he could shove it in.

When he opened the bedroom door he found Steph waiting just outside. Cass turned away from the bank of windows where she’d been keeping an eye out for signs of trouble.

“You know we’re going to have to bring you back after pulling a stunt like this.” she told him, moving further into the room.

“You don’t have to call it in,” said Tim. “We weren’t gone long. It can be explained away. If we get our stories straight— ”  

“I already called it in,” said Cass. “This was a trial run, Tim. You failed.”

Tim stared at her in a new light.  

“I thought you were different, Cass. I thought you understood that I needed space—”

“I do, Tim. But there’s a difference between being alone at the manor and being alone on patrol. Stunts like this on patrol could get you killed. I care about you too much to allow that to happen.”

Why did it suddenly feel like everyone was ganging up on him? It felt like he was reliving Bruce’s death all over again… back when Dick and everyone else thought he was crazy. Ra’s had been the only one who’d believed him back then.

“I don’t need this family’s approval to keep patrolling.” he stated defensively.

“It’s too dangerous for you to patrol solo.” said Steph.

Tim met each of their eyes individually. Yes, he could see it in their eyes. They remember how they left me vulnerable to Ra’s’ persuasion before. They won’t let that happen again. I’m as much a prisoner here as I was with Ra’s. I just swapped one cell for another.

He looked down at his boots, taking the opportunity once again to molded his face into something that would please them.

When he glanced back up his expression was disheartened… unthreatening.

“Alright,” he nodded. “Let’s head back.”

He spared one last glance around Jason’s apartment before he climbed out the window.

“One week on monitor duty.” Bruce glared at him once they’d returned to the manor, his Batman cowl held between his palms. Whatever he’d been saying before that— probably the same drawn out sermon about Tim’s responsibility to take better care of himself— Tim had tuned it out.

He’d nodded and taken his punishment like he was grateful to be given even that much. Tim became their eyes and ears while on patrol. He performed the job so well that they didn’t even think to question his desire to be there.

Tim slipped the comm off of his ear and let it fall onto the desk. The voice on the other end was still audible, calling out his name.

Tim ignored it, instead he grabbed the backpack at his feet and pulled it onto his back. The keys and helmet for Dick’s bike were waiting next to the monitor. He snatched them up as he made his way over towards the bike.

We need to meet.

Tim typed the message into his phone before sliding it back into his jacket. He smiled and flipped the helmet’s visor down over his eyes, racing out of the cave.

#collisions in the dark #JayTim #Tim Drake #Jason Todd #Jason Todd/Tim Drake #batman fic #fanfic #batman comics #batman fanfic #dick grayson #bruce wayne #cassandra cain #Stephanie Brown #Ra's al Ghul #Damian Wayne

[writing-royza]

Tainted Blood, Tainted Soul: Chapter Twenty-four - Prey for the Trap

A/N: Happy Sunday, everyone! I apologize for the brevity of this chapter; it’s only short by about a page, but my faithful laptop finally gave up the ghost this week and although I write on my desktop computer, I lost some time for writing thanks to dealing with that. I think it still turned out well, though. Enjoy!

I do not own FMA.

Chapter Twenty-four - Prey for the Trap

PLAZA, INHABITED ZONE, JADAD

1033 HOURS, APRIL 24TH

His Lieutenant was a fully-fledged, blood-drinking vampire currently holed up with one of his oldest enemies and, while not particularly liking him, still helping said enemy (also a vampire, it must be noted) to perpetuate attacks on the civilians of a slowly recovering formerly oppressed nation for their blood, for the aforementioned drinking.

And Roy was sitting under an open-side pavilion, cutting squares of cloth and lengths of cord for anti-vampire protection charms.

Beside him, sitting comfortably cross-legged and surrounded by bowls of charm ingredients, Scar's Master worked in companionable silence. The cloth squares went to him, and he filled them with a palmful of holy sand, a rune of protection wrought in silver wire, and three small garlic flowers. The lengths of cord went to Miles, who also took the filled clothes squares, which he formed into pouches and tied securely shut. At a table a few feet away, Scar was busy distributing the finished charms to a curious public.

"What is he telling them?" Roy asked, keeping his voice low in case anyone in earshot spoke Amestrian.

The Master didn't look up, but smiled. "He does not tell the truth, but he does not lie. The people are told that they are religious charms to bring them Ishvala's divine protection." Reaching out, he plucked a rune from a bowl. "Which, in essence, is exactly true."

Roy nodded in understanding. "He's just not telling them what they need the protection from. Anyone who didn't believe would call us crazy and those that did could start a panic."

Nodding in return, the Master set aside the completed mixture. "And those that don't accept the charm will have to rely, however unknowingly, on the increased night patrols we'll be sending out." He picked up the next square, holding it cupped in one palm while adding ingredients with his free hand. Each patroller will have several spare charms on their person, and be a fully trained warrior priest."

Roy's stomach twisted nervously. Riza's skills in hand-to-hand combat were good by Amestrian military standards… but she had never been fully pitted against someone with Scar's training. Her new strength and speed might serve her well… but would it be enough to keep her from being seriously hurt?

"I can at least vouch that the charms work," he said, trying to swallow the tightness in throat he was beginning to associate with worry. "She was staying a good distance away when we ran into her the other night. He hesitated, then added, "And it may have given us a way to help the real Hawkeye get control of herself."

Miles head snapped up, the partially-tied charm in his hands forgotten. The Master's reaction was more subdued, though he evidenced no less interest. "Oh? And how do you think it could help that way?"

Reaching down, Roy plucked at his own charm, letting it fall back against his chest. "Because when I pressed this against her chest, I got two minutes with the Lieutenant Hawkeye I know."

Frowning, Miles started in on the charm in his hand again, but now he glanced up periodically to continue the conversation. "So the charm doesn't just repel the vampires. If it gets close enough to the Lieutenant, it negates the false personality altogether." He raised an eyebrow. "Am I right in thinking you have an idea to use that to your advantage?"

He shrugged, passing another three squares to the Master. "You would be very right. I mean, it's already been inadvertently field-tested. The trick would be to get the charm actually around her neck. Last night, all I did was hold it to her for maybe… ten seconds? And all that bought me was less than two vampire-free minutes."

"I don't mean to discourage your plan," the Master said, his tone the low and gentle cadence of the teacher he was, "but as long as we're exploring the ins and outs of a possible plan…. How long do you think wearing a charm will suppress the vampire personality?"

"I don't know," Roy admitted. "I would think that it would keep it suppressed indefinitely… but you're right. For all we know, the vampire could develop a tolerance through prolonged exposure, or maybe it was all an elaborate ploy and it didn't actually work at all…." He shook his head in resignation. "But we have to try something, and as far as I know, we don't have any other plan in the works."

The Master was watching as Roy spoke, his expression unreadable, but quietly contemplative. He paused a moment when Roy had finished, then said, "I agree, but there are still doubts in my mind. Have you considered what may happen if the charm does not affect her as you expect?"

"What do you mean?"

"We know how she reacts to a brief exposure, assuming, as you said, that it was a real reaction," the Master pointed out. "Ten seconds, you said. And so far, we've spoken about using it against her with an effect that is beneficial… but consider the possible long-term adverse effects." He set aside the latest square of charm ingredients, ticking of points on his fingers. "Suppose, after a while, holding back the vampire persona begins to cause her pain, or alter her mental state, or makes her ill. What then?"

Roy was quite a moment, cutting new squares and lengths of cord, thinking through the new information and trying to amalgamate it with his fledgling plan…. Trying to find a way to get back that wouldn't involve hurting her any more than she already was. "And if she were to come into skin contact with the silver rune in the pouch, or any of its contents, that could hurt too," he said finally. "It would burn her like the sand did."

Miles had been quietly following the exchange the whole time, and now he broke in. "Would it help determine what to do if we could ask the Lieutenant? Not this vampire alter ego of hers, but the genuine Riza Hawkeye?"

One eyebrow lifted in surprise, Roy looked toward the northern Major. "Since its her body that has to go through wearing the charm, if we decide to go that route, then I'd say it's only fair she get a chance to voice her opinion." His look turned doubtful. "Though I'm not sure how we'll get to ask. I don't think she'll be letting anyone close enough to hit her with a charm, and it might not last long enough if we did."

A small, sly smile tugged at Miles' lips. "That would be a part of overall plan… But the first step is getting the vampire cornered in one place that she can't escape from, and were her new friend can't get to her either. Once she's there, we'll have all the time in the world to find a way to talk to the Lieutenant and form a real plan."

A thrill of anticipation wriggled pleasantly in Roy's chest, along with the skip in his pulse and the momentary hitch in his breath. He grinned back at the other man; Miles had the beginnings of a truly sneaky plan… and maybe that was just what they needed. "Well, don't just keep it to yourself. What do you have in mind?"

"It's going to take some time to set up, so we'd best start as soon as we're done here today. But to start with, we're going to need a place that's out of the way while not being too far from the settled areas…."

MARKETPLACE, UNINHABITED ZONE, JADAD

2043 HOURS, APRIL 24TH

It had been full dark for nearly two hours before Roy, watching from the shadows of an alley, finally saw her emerge from the abandoned inn. She paused on the street, looking for all the world like a tourist waiting for a taxi… or a travelling companion.

"No sign of the other one," he murmured a moment later, when Riza remained alone, idly stretching with her gaze on the stars. Her movements were lithe, catlike… full of deadly grace. Self-consciously, he tugged the hood of his borrowed dark cloak further around his face."Either he's already left, or else he doesn't plan on hunting tonight."

"The Lieutenant's habits suggest that it isn't absolutely necessary that they feed every night," Scar agreed from his place crouched behind a dust-covered crate. "But given his habits in the west and the fact that he just crossed a desert with limited supplies of blood, I would think he would — ah. There."

If Riza hadn't turned to look into the shadows of the hallway behind her, Roy might not have seen the figure standing there. The vampire wore a dark suit, his hands in his pockets, and his stance — what Roy could discern in the darkness — one of laid-back insolence. The only parts of him that stood out were his white shirt and the pale oval of his face.

Roy leaned forward, squinting slightly as though the action could somehow help him see better. "Does that look like Kimblee to either of you? I can see it in the posture, and he's certainly the right building, but…."

"If he were wearing that ridiculous white suit, I'd be more sure," Miles said. Like Roy, he was swathed in a dark cloak, standing close against the wall in its deepest shadows. "But even though I can't make his feature out, it definitely does look like him."

"It is Kimblee," Scar said darkly, red eyes fixed on the man in the shadows partway around the plaza. "The vampire has a very faint aura about him, but what there is has traces of the man he used be… and I remember that." He shifted slightly, though whether in anger or anticipation, Roy didn't know. "He and I have unfinished business."

"So do I," Miles muttered.

Roy stared across the plaza, watching the two figures, one in white and the other in black, as Kimblee emerged into the was a good amount of space between them; they didn't even appear to be holding a conversation… but the thought still nagged at him of what the thing in Riza's body had said after his rejection of her….

"…Perhaps it would be a fitting punishment for turning me down. Maybe I will let him have a little fun."

It had been over twelve hours since that little insinuation. They had spent the daylight hours sequestered in darkness, sleeping through the sun's travel across the sky. Alone? In each other's company? It almost didn't matter, since it was plenty of time for them to have — no. He clamped down firmly on the thought before he could complete it, at the same time as he suppressed a shudder from going down his spine. There was, he hoped, still too much hatred and distrust left from the real Riza for this new Riza to do… that.

"I think we can case a broader net than just the three of us as Kimblee's enemies," he murmured at last. "At this point, there isn't anyone within a day's travel that wouldn't have some kind of bone to pick with him, whether personally, or for his role in the war in general." His lip twisted in a grim smile. "We might be farther ahead to paint him as Public Enemy Number One."

"Gladly," Miles answered. "Though is still leaves us with the problem of how to bring him down."

Scar hadn't moved, his gaze still on the pair of vampires. The one in Riza's body had moved to sit on a crate beside a long-abandoned vendor's stall, while Kimble was still standing with his hands in his pockets, head tilted back to survey the stars. "I believe we should keep to the original plan, though it would be better to get her alone before we try to put it in motion."

"Here's hoping she hates him enough to avoid going hunting with him," Miles commented. "If we don't get lucky and she doesn't go off on her own…."

"She will," Roy said firmly. "Even if he is her sire, she made ti clear to me that she's only sticking around him out of mutual interest in their own survival as vampires." He shrugged, the motion uneasy. "Necessity, not shared ideals. I'm sure, if she had any other choice —"

Scar held up a hand for silence, then pointed one finger across the marketplace. Words were clearly finally being exchanged between the two vampires, though sound had no hope of carrying this far. Kimblee's stance hadn't changed at all, his shoulder relaxed as he stood directly in front of her crate perch. Riza sat with perfect, straight-backed prim posture, her dangling feet crossed at the ankle and her hands folded in her lap. There was some kind of back-and-forth that lasted only half a minute —

And Roy's stomach clenched as Kimblee took a step forward to peck her gently on the cheek before turning and striding off into the night.

All three men were quiet a moment longer, watching her watch him leave with a neutral expression in those amethyst eyes. Finally, with deliberate slowness, she scrubbed her sleeve across her cheek, wiping away any trace of this kiss. Out of the corner of his eye, Roy was aware of Scar's gaze turning briefly in his direction — to gauge his reaction, no doubt — but kept his eyes on Riza.

It's not her, he reminded himself. It's her body, but it's not her mind. Your Riza isn't in charge, so it's not her fault…. But all the rationalizing in the world couldn't stop the jealousy from bubbling, hot and acidic, in his stomach.

After what seemed like ages, though it was only a few minutes, Riza slipped from her seat beside the table, dusted herself off, and set off at a leisurely pace just to the right of their position.

"Time to pull back and get into our secondary position," Miles murmured, now doubly careful to keep his voice low. None of them knew exactly how far a vampire's sense of hearing could reach, but they also weren't particularly keen to find out. "As long as she doesn't use that string travel method like did to escape the yantir, we should be able to get there in time."

Getting to their feet, the three men ran quietly as they could back down the alley, paralleling Riza's current path, but needing to move faster in order to gain ground.

As they got up to leave, Roy was the only one to look back at her over shoulder… but he doubted he was the only praying that this would work.

INHABITED ZONE OUTSKIRTS, JADAD, ISHVAL

2103 HOURS, APRIL 24TH

The time spent away from Kimblee's presence was pleasurable, even if she could still feel the faint pressure of his mind against the edge of hers. Since arriving, it seemed like all he had done was hunt, rest, and talk. In all honesty, the third option was the worst of the three. With hunting being restricted to a few hours at might and vampires not needing an overabundance of sleep… talking held the majority vote.

Riza wouldn't have minded so much if he actually talked about things that interested her or were of some use. Things like literature, culture, places like East City or Central… he••, she would have settled for firearm technical specifications or dogs. Instead, she got his war memories from Ishval, stories from his time in prison, how to fool psychologists into overlooking very obvious psychopathic tendencies, and an accounting of his 'work' with the Homonculi and their Father before he had been eaten.

She had learned exactly one useful thing in all his babbling: to him, there was no separation of before-Kimblee and vampire-Kimblee. The two were one and the same, unlike before-Riza and vampire-Riza. He had accepted his vampirism wholeheartedly; she still had some assimilating to do.

Finally free of him until daylight broke and she was forced to be sequestered in the inn room that adjoined his — another one of his ideas and one that she was not at all thrilled with — she was content to take her time with her own hunt. A nice stroll to the residential neighbourhoods, a lovely, private dinner, and —

Rounding a corner, into what had once been a quiet street of well-to-do homes, she stopped in her tracks at the sight of a male figure in the open archway of a faded, flaking stucco façade. The man looked up and immediately stood tall, straightening his tunic in… was he self-conscious? Nervous about seeing her?

A little thrill convulsed in her chest and slithered its way down into her belly. If she still had the ability to make Roy Mustang self-conscious and nervous as a schoolboy on his first date… maybe he wasn't a lost cause after all.

She let her most sultry smile spread across her lips; just because she still had half a mind to seduce the man didn't mean she didn't like the way he squirmed when he saw her pointed teeth. "Well, isn't this a surprise…. Out taking the air, fire boy?" She slid a few metres closer. "Weren't you listening yesterday when I told you that monsters come out at night?"

He didn't smile, but his tone was civil. "I didn't think you could possibly be referring to yourself when you said that. You're not a monster." Those dark eyes met hers, looking solemn and fathomless in the shadows. "Although I'd be lying if I said I hadn't been hoping I'd run into you."

"Oh, is that so?" She stopped at the bottom of the three stone steps leading up to the archway where he stood. "Now, why don't I believe that — oh!" She snapped her fingers, eyes wide in a satire of sudden knowledge. "That's right; because you already proved that you're pissed off that I took over pretty little Riza's body, won't give it back, and that I happen to think humans are tasty." She pouted sarcastically. "Maybe you're also mad that I drank your tea this morning?"

It was easy to see that he was discomfited by her reading of him, not to mention her little performance, but he kept himself collected. He even managed a small smile. "Actually, I'm not mad at all about that. In fact…." He turned, bending to pick something up from behind the arch's side. Riza's pout disappeared, her body tensing as she prepared to dodge whatever he was about to attack her with.

Instead, when he turned back and straightened, he was holding a small stoneware jar and pair of cups. "I brought tea with me. I thought, if I did happen to run into you and you didn't immediately try to kill me, we could share it this time, instead of you simply stealing mine."

It was impressive, really, that in the space of any conversation with him, she could go from wanting to tumble him buck naked in the sand to wanting him to just leave. The look she gave him now was far from the sultry start of barely a minute earlier. "Right," she drawled sardonically. "Should I look away so that you can add the poison, or is it already mixed into the tea?"

"It's not poisoned," he answered, turning and walking into the abandoned house. "I might not like it, but that's still my Lieutenant's body you're possessing. If I try to hurt you, I just end up hurting her… and that's something I can't do."

She paused in the archway, watching as he moved into the middle of the house's inner courtyard. Tarpaulins stretched overhead, blotting out the moon and stars and creating a shelter out of what would normally have been an open-air space. Colonnades lined the little square, which held a hollow that might have once been a fountain or decorative pond. He sat down on the edge, looking around with… he seemed contented, almost, as though there weren't a deadly supernatural creature lurking just behind him.

"Odd place for you to wind up when you're supposedly just 'out for a walk,'' she commented, not moving any closer. Something felt off about this…. He was too calm, too in control, his answers too prepared…. No matter what he said, it was clear he had been waiting for her… but how had he known she would come this way?

He glanced back over his shoulder, smiling. "We were considering this house as an outpost for the Reconstruction Office, once we start to build up a little more in this direction. We scouted the location the other day, and I liked the architecture enough that I wanted to see it again." He waved a hand at the courtyard's perimeter. "Nobody builds with colonnades like these in Amestris, until it's in the south, close the Aerugonian border."

"Pretty dark for a human's eyes," she pointed out, drifting cautiously closer, just inside the square formed by the colonnade. "Isn't it hard to appreciate architecture when you can't see?"

His sudden grin was boyish, if short-lived. "Not for long. Promise not to tell the Ishvalans?"

Without warning, he clapped his hands together before snapping the fingers of his left hand. A double handful of small fireballs shot out in every direction, zooming straight through the air to slam into the heads of torches sitting in sconces at intervals around the yard. Riza jumped briefly as one flashed past a mere metre away, her eyes blinking in the sudden flare of torchlight.

When the light spots cleared, Roy was already at work, pouring still steaming tea from the stone jar into the pair of cups sitting next to him on the sand-covered tiles. Picking one up, he held it out to her. "Come on; I figure that if you're going to be possessing my Lieutenant for the foreseeable future, I should at least make some effort to get to know you."

She watched him for a moment, trying with all her psychic senses to detect some kind of deceit, some kind of hint as to what he really wanted… but no. Apparently, he really did want her to drink the tea, to stay and talk for a while, to just… be companionable. His mind wasn't entirely truthful about it, that much was clear… but she suspected it was because he was lying to himself about how he felt about this. He was forcing himself to be okay with this situation, but for her, it was harmless.

Besides, if she talked long enough, perhaps she could win him over. Roy already hated Kimblee, probably more than she did. If she could get him relaxed enough to let down his guard, to take off that stupid protective charm, then maybe she could get close enough…. Just one little bite, and then he would be hers. Turn him, use him to help her dethrone Kimblee, and then the two of them could….

She shook herself mentally, pushing her sudden daydream to one side. Crossing the sand and flagstones, she took the cup with a softly murmured 'thank you,' settling down with it just out of reach of the malevolent energy emanating from that homely-looking cloth pouch around his neck. She sniffed her cup, watching suspiciously until he took a sip from his own. Hers held no foreign scent other than fragrant jasmine, and, as he had said, to poison her was to poison his own lady love. He would no more hurt her than he would the real Riza Hawkeye.

"So it occurs to me," he said, after a moment, "that I actually don't know what to call you." When she looked up at him, he shrugged. "I mean, you're not Riza as I know her, but you're still… at this point, you're more a part of her, I suppose. So do I still call you Riza, or Hawkeye? Or is there some other name that you use that you would prefer?"

She waved away the concern with an airy hand. "It doesn't matter much to me. Identity is a small concern next to survival, when you essentially have to forage for your food." She watched his expression go blank, likely so he wouldn't betray his own distaste, and kept going. "I still think of my name as being Riza, but if it helps you differentiate, calling me Hawkeye wouldn't bother me either."

"I see." His shoulders tensed as he visibly braced himself to ask his next question. "And how are things with Kimblee?"

"I think you mean 'how are things with the windbag.'" She grinned at the surprise that crossed his face. "I think being in solitary confinement for so many years had more of an effect on him than he's willing to admit. He just won't stop talking."

"Really?"

"Yes, and it's getting tiresome, even after only one day." She rolled her eyes, taking another sip of tea. "About the only interesting thing he would talk about is how much he wants to mess with you." She raised an eyebrow. "I told you, didn't I, the entire reason why he turned me?"

Roy nodded, the look in his eyes far away and introspective. "Yes…. You said it was to get revenge on me, since he and I have been on opposite sides from day one. I would have thought he had bigger fish to fry than me, but maybe it was just a case of wrong place, wrong time."

She tilted her head first one way, than the other, weighing the opinion. "Mmmmm, partly, but that's not all of it. Mostly, yes, you were just the closest person on whom he could vent his spleen, but the other part of it is just sheer pettiness on his part." She shook her head, disapproving. "You were chosen as a human sacrifice instead of him. Granted, he was mauled by Heinkel and then eaten by Pride, but if he'd had the chance, he would have jumped at the offer to be a human sacrifice for the Homonculi."

Roy laughed humourlessly, downing the contents of his cup. "He could have traded with me if he hadn't been eaten. I wouldn't have minded not being blinded.”

'That's what I told him." She rolled her eyes in derision. "But he spouted some nonsense about how it would have allowed him to first make a massive change in the world and then watch the aftereffects of that change. But, unfortunately, fate had other ideas."

A voice rang out from the shadows of the colonnade. "All right, Colonel, we're clear."

Riza's head whipped around to the archway they had entered by, to find Scar and Miles standing just inside the archway, outside the colonnades. "…Gentlemen? I didn't realize there were going to be other guests at this party." Her purple eyes suspicious, she turned back to Roy. "Seems the sort of thing you ought to have warned a lady about, Colonel."

"Would you have stayed if I did?" His tone was flat, his eyes and expression hard. "Although now… I doubt you have much of a choice."

She laughed, setting her cup aside as she got to her feet. "You've still got a lot to learn about me and my kind. Thanks for the drink, but four's a crowd. I'll be on my way."

He got up as well, facing her. "I understand enough to know that you're staying right here," he said firmly. "You and I still need to have a talk, and I'm not satisfied by five minutes of chitchat over tea." His arms folded over his chest. "I told you before, you might look like my Lieutenant, but you're not her by a long shot. And I have no problem interrogating an imposter."

Anger suffused her chest, wanting to escape her throat in a snarl, but she held it back by virtue of her gritted teeth. She stalked forward a pair of steps, intent on showing this lowly, insolent human who was in control here… and recoiled as the stench coming from that tiny little pouch assailed her.

"If you think that little charm is going to be enough to keep me here, it's exactly the opposite," she spat. Turning toward the archway, she glared daggers at Scar and Miles, both men watching her with stone faces. "If the two of you know what's good for you, you'll step aside before you get thrown."

Scar's voice was calm and cool, but with a hint of frost at the edges. "That won't be necessary."

Riza was still stalking toward them, just beginning to ready her muscles for the task of throwing aside two fully grown men, when she fetched up face-first against and invisible barrier. She rebounded with the redirected momentum, lost a brief battle with equilibrium, and dropped backward into the dirt.

"I tried to warn you," Roy commented mildly. He hadn't moved from his spot, knowing he was safe from her so long as he kept the charm on him. "We've tweaked the protective circle since we last used it for the yantir, so now it doesn't just keep demons inside." His lips twitched in a thin smile. "It keeps vampires, too."

Even in a dire situation such as this, her heart rate was still far slower than the average human's. And as the gravity of this new situation began to creep in, Riza felt her heart sinking, down through her stomach to settle as an uneasy feeling deep in her gut. She, the hunter, was now very much the prey.

#fma #fmab #Roy Mustang #Riza Hawkeye #royza #royai #fma fanfiction #royai fanfiction #tainted blood

[berniesrevolution]

On the list of America’s irrational fears, Palestine is near the top. This is no small feat for a “country” with no actual territory and a population about the size of South Carolina. Despite its lack of an air force, navy, or any real army to speak of, Palestine has long been considered an existential threat to Israel, a nuclear-armed power with one of the most powerful militaries in the world and the full backing of the United States. Since there’s no military or economic justification for this threat, a more nebulous one had to be invented. Thus, Palestinians are depicted in the media as hot-blooded terrorists, driven by the twin passions of fanatical Islam and a seething hatred for Western culture. So engrained is this belief that the op-ed page of the New York Times can “grapple with questions of [Palestinian] rights” by advocating openly for apartheid, forced expulsion, or worse.

This worldview demands an Olympian feat of mental gymnastics. It can only be maintained so long as most Americans have no firsthand contact with Palestine or Palestinian people. Even the smallest act of cultural exchange is enough to make us start questioning the panic-laced myths we’ve been taught since birth.  

Of course, the best way to discover the truth about Palestine is to visit the country yourself, though most Americans don’t have the free time or financial resources to do so (this is not a coincidence). This means that those of us who are fortunate enough to visit have a responsibility to share what we’ve seen and heard, without lapsing into pre-fabricated narratives, even “sympathetic” ones. We can’t fight untruth by telling untruths from the opposite perspective. What we can do, however, is report what we saw and heard in Palestine. We can try to provide a snapshot of daily life and let people come to their own conclusions.

With this in mind, here’s what I learned during a recent trip to the Holy Land…

The Palestinian doorman of the Palm Hostel in Jerusalem is a large and friendly man who insists his name is Mike. My fiancée and I are skeptical, as we’d expected something a bit more Arabic. We ask him what his friends call him.

“Just Mike,” he says, and taps an L&M cigarette against the wooden desk. He’s sitting in a dark alcove with rough stone floors, nestled halfway up the staircase that leads from the fruit market to the Palm’s small arched doorway.  A pleasant, musty oldness floats in the air. You could imagine Indiana Jones staying here, if he’d lost tenure and gone broke for some reason. To Westerners like us, it seems too exotic to have a doorman named Mike.

Before we can ask him again, though, Mike pounces with a question of his own. “You’re from the States, right?” He speaks English with a thick accent and slow but almost flawless diction, an odd combination that is causing my fiancée some visible confusion, which seems amusing to Mike. I tell him that we’re from Minnesota, a small and boring place in the center-north of the USA. His grin gets bigger, which makes me self-conscious, so I also explain that Minnesota has no mountains or sea, and the winters are very cold.

“Yeah, I know,” says Mike. “I lived in El Paso for thirty years. Border cop, K9 unit. It was a nice place. Had a couple kids there.” Now it’s my turn to gawk, and I start to race through all the possible scams he might be trying to pull. Mike seems to guess what I’m thinking. “Really. I even learned some Spanish.” He scrunches his brow in mock concentration and clamps a hairy hand over his forehead. “Hola. ¿Como estás?Una cerveza, por favor.”  He opens his eyes and laughs. “Welcome to Jerusalem, guys. Damascus Gate is that way. Enjoy.”

I don’t know why I’m so surprised he knows a handful of Taco Bellisms, or why this convinces me of his honesty. However, now it’s impossible to walk away. We have too many questions. The first one: Why’d he return to Jerusalem? Mike looks down at his cigarette, smoldering into a fine grey tail of ash. He flicks it against a stone and a bright red ember blazes to life.

“This is my home. I had to.”

Later, as we sip sweet Turkish coffee outside a rug shop in the Old City, it occurs to me that Mike was the first Palestinian person I’d ever spoken with face-to-face. His life story seemed unusual, but I have no idea what’s “usual” when it comes to Palestinian lives. I’d never thought about them before, to be honest. The world has an infinite number of stories, and the days are not as long as I’d like. It’s not like I’d chosen to ignore Palestine. I just hadn’t chosen to be interested in it.

Which was odd, because Palestine has been all over the news since I was a kid. There isn’t a single specific story I recall, just a murky soup of words and phrases, like “fragile peace talks” and “two-state solution” and “violent demonstrations.” They all swirl together, settling under the stock image of a bombed-out warzone as the headlines mumbled something about Hamas or Hezbollah or the Palestinian Authority. I remember reading about rockets and settlements, refugees and suicide bombers, non-binding resolutions and vetoed Security Council decisions. Not a single detail had stuck. I could feign awareness of some important-sounding events—the Balfour Declaration, the Oslo Accords, the Camp David Summit—but I couldn’t say what decade they happened, or who was involved, or what was decided.

For years, I’d been under the impression that I knew enough about Palestine to be uninterested in what was happening there. This isn’t to say I felt any particular animosity toward the Palestinians. But it’s impossible to fight for every cause, no matter how righteous, if only for reasons of time. Every minute you spend feeding the hungry is a minute you’re not visiting the sick. Life is a zero sum game more often than we’d like to believe.

As we headed toward the Via Dolorosa, the road that Jesus walked on the way to his crucifixion, I began to feel uneasy. The Israeli police (indistinguishable from soldiers except for the patches on their uniforms) who stood guard at every corner still smiled at us, and they were still apologetic when they forbade us from walking down streets that were “for Muslims only, unfortunately.” Their English was excellent. Many of them were women. They were young and diverse and photogenic, a recruiter’s dream team. But all I could see were their bulletproof vests and submachine guns. Above every ancient stone arch bristled a nest of surveillance cameras. Only a few hours ago, I’d been able to block all that from my sight, leaving me free to enjoy the giddy sensation of strolling through the holiest city on earth.

The road ended at the Lion’s Gate. Just as we approached it, a battered Toyota came rattling through. It screeched to a halt and a squad of Israeli police surrounded the car. All four doors opened and out stepped a Palestinian family. The driver was a young man in his 20s, with short black hair cut in the style of Ronaldo, the famous Real Madrid footballer. When the police told him to turn around and face the wall, he did so without a word. It was obvious this was a daily ritual. The policeman who frisked him looked as bored as it’s possible to look when patting down another man’s genitals. Soon it was over, and the family got back in their car. One of the policemen pulled out his phone and started texting.

If I’d made a video of the search (which I didn’t) and showed it to you with the volume off, you probably wouldn’t find it very interesting. The Israeli police didn’t hurt the man, and he barely made eye contact with them. There were no outrageous racial slurs or savage beatings. The only thing you’d see is a group of people in camouflage battle gear standing around a small white sedan, with a middle-aged woman and a couple of young girls off to the right. Unless you have hawk-like eyesight and an exceptional knowledge of obscure uniform insignias, I doubt you’d be able to tell “which side” any of the participants might be on. All you could say for sure is that the police wanted to search the family’s bodies and belongings, and the family looked very unhappy about it, but the police had guns and cameras, and that settled things. It’s interesting what conclusions different people might draw from a scene like that.

Later that night, after we get back to the Palm, I tell Mike about what we saw. He asks what we’d thought. “It was fucked up,” we say.

Mike sighs. “You should see Bethlehem.”    

Jerusalem is so close to Bethlehem that you barely have time to wonder why all the billboards that advertise luxury condos use English instead of Arabic as the second language before you arrive at the wall.

The wall is the most hideous structure I’ve ever seen. It’s a huge, groaning monument to death. Tall grey rectangles bite into the earth like iron teeth, horribly bare, cold, sterile, a towering monstrosity. The wall makes the air taste like poison.

We’re in the car of Mike’s cousin Harun, who is Palestinian, but his car has Israeli plates so we aren’t searched at the checkpoint. We inch past the concrete barriers and armored trucks. Harun holds his identity pass out the window, a soldier waves us through, and a few seconds later we’re in Bethlehem, a short drive from where Jesus Christ was born. It feels like entering prison. I don’t say prison in the sense of an ugly and depressing place you’d prefer not to visit. I say prison in the literal sense: a fortified enclosure where human beings are kept against their will by heavily armed guards who will shoot them if they try to leave. This is what modern life is like in Bethlehem, birthplace of our Lord and Savior.

Looking at the wall from the Israeli side breaks your heart because of its naked ugliness. On the Palestinian side, the unending slabs of concrete have been decorated with slogans, signs, and graffiti, which break your heart for different reasons. One of the hardest parts is reading the sumud series. These are short stories written on plain white posters, plastered to the wall about 10 feet up. Each story comes from a Palestinian woman or girl, and most are written in English, because the only people who read these stories are tourists.

One in particular catches my eye, by a woman named Antoinette:

All my life was in Jerusalem! I was there daily: I worked there at a school as a volunteer and all my friends live there. I used to belong to the Anglican Church in Jerusalem and was a volunteer there. I arranged the flowers and was active with the other women. I rented a flat but I was not allowed to stay because I do not have a Jerusalem ID card. Now I cannot go to Jerusalem: the wall separates me from my church, from my life. We are imprisoned here in Bethlehem. All my relationships with Jerusalem are dead. I am a dying woman.

The flowers are what gets me, because my mother also arranges flowers at church. Hers is an Eastern Orthodox congregation in Minneapolis, about 20 minutes by car from my childhood home. That’s about the same distance between Bethlehem and Jerusalem, although there aren’t any military checkpoints or armored cars patrolling the Minnesotan highways. Until today, I would’ve been unable to imagine what that would even look like. The situation here is so unlike anything I’ve ever encountered in real life that all I can think is, “it’s like a bad war movie.” For the Palestinian people who’ve been living under an increasingly brutal military occupation for the last 70 years, an entire lifetime, I can’t begin to guess at the depths of their helpless anger. What did Antoinette think, the first time the soldiers refused to let her pass? What did she say? What would my mother say? There wouldn’t be a goddamned thing she could do, or I could do, or my father or my sisters, or anyone else. We’d all just have to live with it, the soldiers groping us, beating us, mocking us. No wonder Antoinette gave up hope. In her place, would I be any different? We walk in silence for a long time.

We end up in a refugee camp called Aida, where more than 6,000 people live in an area roughly the size of a Super Target. Here, the air is literally poison. Israeli soldiers have fired so much tear gas into the tiny area that 100 percent of residents now suffer from its effects. If they were using the tear gas against, say, ISIS soldiers instead of Palestinian civilians, this would be a war crime, since “asphyxiating, poisonous, or other gases” are banned by the Geneva Protocol. However, such practices are deemed to be acceptable in peacetime, since there’s no chance an unarmed civilian population would be able to retaliate with toxic agents of their own. Without the threat of escalation, chemical warfare is just crowd control.

Before we continue, there are three things you should know about Aida. The first is that there’s no clear dividing line between Aida and Bethlehem, so an unwary pedestrian can easily wander into the refugee camp without realizing it. The second thing is that it doesn’t look like a refugee camp, at least if you’re expecting a refugee camp to be full of emergency trailers, flimsy tents, and flaming barrels of trash. The third thing is that the kids who live there have terrible taste in soccer teams.

We meet the first group as soon as we enter the camp. There are five of them, all teenage boys. One of them is wearing a knockoff Yankees hat. They’re staring at us, and at once I’m very aware of my camera bag’s bulkiness and the blondeness of my fiancée’s hair. A loudspeaker crackles with the cry of the muzzein, and it’s only then that I realize how deeply we Americans have been conditioned to associate the Arabic language with violence and death. The boys exchange a quick burst of words, raising my blood pressure even higher, and cross the street toward us.

“Hello…  what’s your name?” The kid who speaks first is tall and stocky, wearing the same black track jacket and blue jeans favored by 95 percent of the world’s male adolescents. He’s also sporting the Ronaldo haircut, as are several of his friends. Two of the kids start to pull out cigarettes, so I pull out my cigarettes faster and offer the pack to them. Is this a bad, irresponsible thing to do? Sure, and if you’re worried about the long-term health of these kids’ lungs, you should call the American manufacturers who supply Israel with the chemical weapons that are used to poison the air they breathe every day.

I tell the kid my name is Nick, and he shakes my hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Shadi.” He’s carrying a rolled-up book, as are his friends, so I ask if he’s going to school. “Yeah bro, exams. We have three this week.” His friends laugh, and then engage in a quick tussle for the right of explaining that they’re heading to their math exam now, which is a boring and difficult subject, and I agree that it is, although at least you never have to use most of it after you finish school, a sentiment that earns me daps from Shadi and his friends, and we stand there giggling and smoking on the street corner of the refugee camp, though for a few moments we could be anywhere in the world.

My fiancée and I, both teachers by trade, start to pepper the kids with questions. Shadi says that he has one year left at the nearby high school, which is run by the UN refugee agency that was just stripped of half its funding by Trump. After he finishes, he plans to study at Bethlehem University. The other guys nod with approval, and speak of similar hopes. I ask them who their favorite footballer is, and they all say Ronaldo, at which I spit in disbelief, because everyone knows that Ronaldo sucks and Messi is much better, visca el Barça! Shadi and his friends break into huge grins, since few elements of brotherhood are more universal than talking shit about sports. Seconds later we’re howling with laughter as Shadi’s buddy makes insulting pantomimes about Messi’s diminutive size. A small part of my brain is loudly and repeatedly insisting that everything about this moment of life is batshit lunacy, that there’s no reason why I should be standing in a Palestinian refugee camp, yards away from buildings my country helped bomb into rubble, with my pretty fiancée and expensive camera, talking in English slang with a group of boys whose lungs are scarred with chemicals made in the USA, the exact kind of reckless young ruffians whose slingshots and stones are such a terrifying threat to the fearsome Israeli military, and the craziest thing of all is that here in the refugee camp, surrounded by derelict cars and rusty barbed wire and 6,000 displaced Palestinians,  we are not in danger, at least not from whom you’d think. Here, in the refugee camp, we can joke around with people who speak our language and know our cultural references and actively seek to help us navigate their neighborhood. None of this is to say that Aida is a safe, comfortable, or morally defensible place to put human beings, but only that the people who live there treated us with such overwhelming kindness and decency that I have never been more ashamed at what my country does in my name. I tell Shadi and his friends to take the rest of my cigarettes, but they smile and decline.

“We, uh, have to go now,” says Shadi, as his friends start to walk up the street. “Do you have Facebook?” We do, because everyone does, and as we exchange information, I wish him good luck on his math exam. “No way, bro, I suck at math,” he says. We both laugh, and I pat him on the back.

“Fuck math. But hey, you’re gonna do great, Shadi.”

“Thanks bro. Fuck math.”

I hope he gets every question correct on his exam. I hope he goes to university and wins a scholarship to Oxford. I hope he invents some insanely popular widget and it makes him a billion dollars and he never has to breathe tear gas again.

We continue walking through Aida camp. The buildings are square, ugly, and drab, but the walls are decorated with colorful paintings of fish and butterflies and meadows (along with a somewhat darker array of scenes from the Israeli military occupation). We meet a group of cousins, aged four to 10, all girls, who ask if we can speak English. When we offer them a bag of candy, they take one piece each, and run away yelping when a man limps out the front door of their house. “Thank you,” he says, his face a mask of grave civility. Cars, all bearing green-and-white Palestinian plates instead of the blue-and-yellow Israeli ones, slow down so their drivers can shout “Hello!” We meet another group of kids, boys this time, who grab fistfuls of candy and make playful attempts to unfasten my wristwatch. We make a hasty retreat from this group. The streets are scorched in spots where tear gas canisters exploded.  Narrow strips of pockmarked pavement lead us down steep hills and into winding alleys, and soon we’re lost.

This is how we meet Ahmed. He’s a tall man, about 40 years old, with a small black mustache and arms as thin as a stork’s legs. A yellow sofa leans against the concrete wall of the three-storey apartment building where he lives. Ahmed is sitting there with an elderly couple. He asks if we’d like a cup of tea, and although we’ve been warned about the old “come inside for a cup of tea” scam, we accept his offer. The elderly couple greets us in Arabic, and I try not to notice the large plastic bag of orange liquid peeking out from beneath the old man’s shirt.

While we climb the stairs to Ahmed’s apartment, he tells us that the old people are his parents. “They live here,” he says, pointing to the door on the first floor, “because they don’t walk very good. My mother has problems with her legs, my father is sick from the water.” He traces the pipes with his finger, and we see they’re coated in a thick reddish crust. “Here is the home of my big son,” he says when we reach the second floor. “He has a new baby.” We congratulate him on becoming a grandfather. “And I have a new baby, too! Come, I show you!” One more flight of stairs, and we arrive at Ahmed’s apartment.

It looks remarkably similar to a hundred other apartments we’ve visited. Framed photos of various family members hang on the living room walls, which are painted the same not-quite-white as most living room walls. There’s a beautiful red rug and a small TV. A woman is sitting on the sofa, nursing a baby as she folds socks. “My wife,” says Ahmed.

She speaks a little English too, and says that her name is Nada. She has a pale round face and long black hair. Her eyes are soft, kind, and completely exhausted. Yet if she’s annoyed or embarrassed by our presence, she doesn’t show it. She just hands the baby to Ahmed and goes to make the tea.

“I’m sorry for my house,” says Ahmed, cradling his son like a loaf of bread with legs. “We try to be clean, but…” There’s not so much as a slipper out of place, but I know what he means. “We rent this flat. And my son, and my parents. All rent. Before we have a farm, animals, olive trees, but now, we rent.” I ask about his job. He smiles and shakes his head. “I want a job,” he says, “I love to work. With my hands, with my mind. I love to work. But here, haven’t jobs.” For a second he looks like he’s going to continue this line of thinking, but he stops himself. “I help my wife, that is my job.” Ahmed laughs and passes his baby to my fiancée. “And he, he helps in the home?” She demurs while I protest in mock indignation. I do the dishes every morning before she even wakes up! Still laughing, Ahmed rubs his shins, and again it’s easy to forget we’re sitting in a refugee camp in Jesus’ hometown.

Then the baby wheezes. It’s a dry, scratchy wheeze. Ahmed squirms in his seat, looking embarrassed. The baby begins to cough. My fiancée rubs his back as the coughing turns wet and violent.  Machine gun explosions blast from his tiny lungs. As an asthmatic, I recognize the sound of serious sickness. The baby writhes in my fiancée’s lap, struggling to breathe. He’s gasping and it’s getting worse fast. At moments like these, personal experience tells me that a nebulizer can be the difference between life and death. I don’t insult Ahmed by asking if he has one, because it’s clear that he doesn’t. All I can do is rub the boy’s chest with my finger, a stupid and useless massage. He kicks and stretches as if trying to wiggle away from the unseen demon that’s strangling him.

Nada hurries back with the tea. “I’m sorry,” she says, picking up the baby. She coos to him in Arabic and rubs his back, both of which are comforting but neither of which can relax the inflamed tissues of her infant’s lungs. “My baby…” Unable to find the words in English, she looks to her husband.

Ahmed rubs his cheek. “When she is pregnant, one night the soldiers come. They say the children throw stones. They always throw stones. So the soldiers shoot gas in all the houses. In the windows, over there.” His voice gets quieter. “And she is very sick. When the baby is born, he is sick too.” I ask him if it’s possible to find medicine. “Sometimes yes,” says Ahmed, “but very, very expensive.” For the first time, there’s a note of frustration in his voice. “Everything is expensive here. You see this,” and he picks up a pack of diapers, “it cost me thirty shekels. 10 dollars, almost. And the baby needs so many things. It is impossible to buy. I haven’t money for meat, how can I buy medicine?” He points to a plastic bag with four small pitas. “This is our food. One bread for my two sons, and two breads for my wife. She must make milk for our baby.” When I ask him what he eats, he holds up his cup of tea.

Somehow Nada has soothed the baby out of danger. His breathing is almost normal again, just a quiet raspy crackle. She’s still staring at him, her big brown eyes wide with worry. I don’t know how many times she’s done this before. I don’t know how many times are left before her luck runs out. 

Somehow she’s keeping her baby alive with nothing but the sheer force of her love. I ask to use the toilet so I don’t have to cry in front of her.

(Continue Reading)

#politics #the left #current affairs #foreign policy #long article #long reads #worth it #Israeli Occupation #freepalestine #apartheid