#i'm still working on sins of the fathers after all--and i'm still looking forward to working on that story for a while

[ravensroleplays]

Yeah so...I mentioned in a post that I reblogged some time back that I’m just going to keep my BATIM AU pretty much the same...I was toying around with some ideas for incorporating Audrey, and the events of BATDR into my AU, but in the end I was like ‘nah’, and decided to just leave my version as is (though I don’t mind doing threads with BATDR roleplayers, or even discussing ideas down the road!)

I will, however, be making one change to my main BATIM AU/verse--I realized it didn’t make any sense for Joey not to be happy with Bendy when he was basically perfect in every way, so I’m going to say that, when Bendy first came to the real world, his inky body would sometimes start to melt when he got too happy/excited. Think Dani from Danny Phantom, and her unstable body, but with a bit less angst (at least, until Joey decided to kill two birds with one stone regarding Bendy’s unstable toon body, and his own illness...)

TBH, at some point I may or may not look over ALL the verses for my various AUs, and scrap a few...a certain one in particular now being kind of redundant with my upcoming original story, Oasis to Oakwood, which I’m planning to start drawing more for next year. Though hey, given that I’m planning to focus more on my original stuff, as well as other things, in 2023, I’m admittedly not entirely sure how much I’m going to keep doing stuff for my AUs...

[mhsdatgo]

To the point about Rhaenyra being boring, it continues to elude me why the producers, writers, and directors decided they needed to humanize Rhaenyra by downplaying if not outright removing her worst traits. That’s not humanizing, that’s sanitizing.

There are plenty of female characters that exist in fiction who are frustrating to morally ambiguous, to completely evil but still have their fans and are beloved, or at the very least compelling. The comparisons to Shiv Roy from Succession already exist, so I won’t belabor that point, but look at other shows like Mr. Robot, Better Call Saul, and if anyone really wants to press the button for feminism: The Handmaid’s Tale. Those shows have incredibly well-written female characters that aren’t necessarily paragons.

House of the Dragon choosing to center Rhaenyra as the protagonist as opposed to making her part of a true ensemble a la the original Game of Thrones wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. The narrative decision to frame her as heroic (as far as S1 is concerned) is how we get the ‘Protagonist Centered Morality/Unreliable Narrator’ trope that results in plenty of media literate fans that are either neutral or Green-leaning who feel frustrated that there’s not an equal balance between characters.

Perfectly put together, anon. I'm sorry I answered so late. -_-

There's nothing wrong with characters that are written to be good people, but you see, that only works when said character is written consistently and somewhat realistically. Something that the writers completely didn't do in Rhaenyra's case. Are you going to tell me I'm supposed to watch her go through Visenya's traumatic birth, which by the way, happened so quickly after learning that her father was dead, keep her calm, and find it believable?

There is no sense of reason when it comes to grief. None. When someone close to you is gone, you check out. They take a part of your mind away with them and sometimes you don't even realize it. Especially if it's as horrid, as painful and helpless as what Rhaenyra went through. I am not going to sit here and blame the Greens for that baby's death, for all we know of her she had dragon features and was 100% going to die either way. That is digestible for us viewers/readers, who have no connection for a baby mentioned in a few lines.

But Rhaenyra's her mother. And rightfully, when she loses her this way, she goes mad with grief. She wants someone to blame, she cannot cope with the idea that there is no one to blame in this situation, that it would've happened either way. So she blames her enemies, the Greens. She isn't right, but she isn't even sane anymore, she's just had a stillbirth, how can you expect her to think before she speaks?

But the show strips her completely of this anger, and makes her push for peace. Is it possible that not even THAT can make this perfect angel Qween lose her temper like any human would? I understand wanting to rid her of any sin so she looks like a Saint, but really, where's the flaw in being angry and irrational after your stillbirth?

I never liked Rhaenyra as a person but I was looking forward (I'm STILL looking forward lol) to the role she will play as a character, a literary device, a tool to tell a story. I'm not saying I hope they bring out the worst of her this season so more people have reasons to hate women and feel justified for it, but LET HER BE RIGHTFULLY ANGRY. I'M BEGGING YOU.

People will always choose and be more obsessed with the evil but interesting one, not the one who's got more morals. It's already been said in a post I saw not so long ago, but Luke shouldn't be winning polls for best character against OTTO HIGHTOWER of all people because we choose morality in none other than a world like ASOIAF. Please give characters nuance. There's so much potential they got lazy with using timeskips etc. already.

[hecatemoon87]

Warnings ⚠️ smut. Minors DNI

Master list

Part VI - sorry, no editing first draft. Hopefully, it is still enjoyable.

Bob picked up a red pen and wrote a big X on the calendar. One day down, seven more to go.

He was counting down the days left of being in the priesthood and when he could officially be with his beloved, Jocelyn. It was slow going, but Bob wanted to complete the transition of his junior priest duties, and therefore had to wait.

The fact of the matter was that the whole thing would be a lot easier if Jocelyn wasn't constantly trying to temp him! The last time he had encountered her, he had made out with her and may have slipped a few fingers into her tight, little pussy. He was currently thinking of her slick, velvet walls when a chalkboard eraser was launched at his shoulder.

"Hey, Bob! I've been talking this whole time! Didn't you hear anything I said?" It was Bob's fellow junior priest, Jason Choi.

"Huh? Uh, sorry. I was thinking about something else," Bob said, bending down to pick up the eraser.

Jason rolled his eyes and said, "I was trying to tell you that the front court yard needs the leaves raked. I'll get the chalkboards."

"Oh, right. I'll...I'll go rake the courtyard then," Bob said, glad his concentration was broken from thinking about sex. Working with a slight hard on inside a church wasn't entirely ideal.

Bob had made pretty good progress on the leaves when his phone buzzed. He extracted it from his back pocket, checked the text and nearly dropped his phone.

Jocelyn had texted him a picture of herself in a sexy Catholic school girl uniform. She was licking a candied sucker rather suggestively. Beneath the image, she had texted, "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned."

Bob sighed. He wasn't going to get through these next seven days without sinning some more. He pocketed his phone and returned to his raking. After a few minutes, he shook his head and put the rake back in the shed. Then, he made his way to Jocelyn's place.

He had a key and unlocked the front door, then locked it behind him. He placed his keys, phone, and wallet on the kitchen table. Then he rolled up the sleeves to his black priest shirt and made his way to the back bedroom where he found Jocelyn laying on her stomach, reading a book. It was the Bible.

She looked up very innocently and blinked. "Oh, Father Saginowski, I was reading the Bible like a good girl, just like you wanted. But I read about how women are the source of all sin and, well, that just made me horny," she said, biting her bottom lip. Her long black hair was made into a single loose braid that hung over her shoulder, and she twirled at the end as she spoke.

The school uniform barely covered her shapely figure, and the whole role-playing situation broke him. Here, he stood before her in his black priest attire with white collar included. His sleeves rolled up, looking down on this naughty little school girl.

"You've been a very, very, bad girl. You've tempted me from day one, and now, I'm going to punish you," he growled, but all in good fun as this made Jocelyn moan with pleasure, hearing her man being dominant turned her on.

He reached forward, grabbing her smooth, toned legs, and forced her to sit on the edge of the bed, holding her wrists tight. Then he pushed her short skirt to see she wasn't wearing any panties. He grunted upon seeing her naked mound and squated down, yanking her legs up and over his shoulders, burying his tongue into her womanhood.

Jocelyn had not expected him to react so ravenously but gladly fell back onto the bed and squirmed under his lapping tongue. "Oh, Father, yes, baby, yes," she purred.

Bob's cock was hard and he couldn't help but dry hump the air a little as he devoured her cunt. Her fingers glided through his hair, and the sounds of her pleasure burned through him.

He wanted to get her good and wet because he had every intention in pounding that sexy, but oh, so very frustrating little pussy of hers.

He found her clit and mercilessly twirled his tongue over that little, sensitive nub. This caused Jocelyn to shudder and whine, begging him to undo her. And he did, feeling her gush forth over his tongue and mewling like that perfect sinful slut like she was.

Bob licked her one last time before standing up and wiping her honey from his mouth. She looked at him dreamily and was about to say something, something clever, no doubt, but Bob was at his limit with her sass. He undid her shirt, which was only sealed by a simple knot.

As the shirt fell open, his eyes saw her ample, round bouncy breasts, tipped with small pert little nipples begging to be sucked, pinched, and squeezed. He fell upon her, his mouth finding purchase on her left nipple, nibbling and licking like his favorite treat.

Jocelyn cooed and wiggled beneath him, and he broke from her breasts to kiss her deeply. When he broke the kiss, he whispered in her ear, "I'm going to bred that little cunt of yours," Then stood up and flipped her on her stomach. With a knee, he shoved her legs part, her perfect little ass arched up, showing him her drenched pussy lips.

He undid his belt and was about to cast it away but grinned to himself and used it to spank her bottom.

"Bob!" Jocelyn squeaked and turned to look at him.

"What? Too hard?"

She paused, taking in the sensation of the burn and said, "Do it again."

He obeyed and gave her another crack over her soft cheeks. She moaned and gripped the bed sheets, "Bob, oh fuck, I need you, now. Fill my pussy up with that big cock," she whined. Bob dropped his pants and plowed right through her succulent lips, parting her walls and stuffing her completely with his throbbing member. The head of his cock meet the back of her core and he flexed, causing Jocelyn to whimper in both pain and pleasure. "Oh, yes. Punish me, Daddy! Make me your little fuck toy please!!" She begged.

Bob did not hesitate and drilled her into the mattress. Any guilt he had been feeling was far gone as he felt her tight cunt clenched around his girth. He made the whole bed shake, holding her by her haunches and pounding hard.

Hus pants slipped down to his ankles. He pulled out of her, abandoning her hungry pussy causing her to fuss. But he needed to kick the pants away and remove his shirt, he was sweating hard.

Now, fully naked, he pulled her back on his cock and finished breeding her. He came hard, filling her womb with his viscous seed, hot and syrupy.

Jocelyn seemed to be having another orgasm as her cunny clenched and swallowed vigorously over his cock, causing him to cum harder.

As he came down, he was spent. It was like all the tension, guilt, and stress of his life had been erased.

Jocelyn rolled over onto her back and motioned for him to lie beside her. She took him into her arms and kissed his forehead. He nestled his head upon her chest, listening as her heart rate when back down.

"That was amazing, baby. I hope you're not feeling too guilty she said, smoothing back his hair and looking into his handsome face.

He smiled and laughed softly. "Since when did you care if I feel guilty for my sins?"

"I think it's all very silly, but I do love you, so I care," she said, frowning.

He nodded and pulled her into his arms. "I know, I love you too. But damn, Jocelyn, you are relentless."

She giggled and snuggled into him further. "You cummed a boat load in me. I doubt my birth control will stand against all that. Do you want a baby?"

Bob pulled back to look at her square in the face, "Uh, shit. We probably need to get married before that, right?"

She rolled her eyes but smiled. "I want an outdoor wedding, then."

"But inside a church is better," he said.

"Whatever, I guess I can let you have that. But our wedding night will be filled with sin, I guarantee it."

The end.

[wrathfulrook]

WIP Wednesday

I've applied to my schools and I'm writing again <3 I've been tagged by a million people these past few months... sorry

Tagging @skoll-sun-eater @socially-awkward-skeleton @adelaidedrubman @trench-rot @cassietrn @dumbassdep @thedepyuty @direwombat @josephslittledeputy @locustandwildhoney @roofgeese @voidika @afarcryfrommymain @purplehairsecretlair @strafethesesinners @deputyash @inafieldofdaisies @josephseedismyfather and anyone else with something to share! As always, no pressure and apologies for duplicates... <3

Here's a bit from something that is blatantly not Wrathling. I'm still working on Wrathling but here's an AU instead...

When it all ended, when the National Guard came, they all ended up behind bars. Joseph, Jacob, John, and Faith. Tucked away where they could never hurt anyone ever again. In the aftermath, her own name and face were plastered all over the news. Her statements were used in each trial, printed in papers nationwide. And so the courts had been all too willing to grant her petition for a name change. Patience Ekner ceased to be, and Patience Rook was born.

Patience Rook left Hope County, left Montana, never to go back. She put it all behind her and moved forward, the only reminder she chose to keep the new surname she took, her nickname from those brutal, bloody days. Of course, there were other reminders she hadn’t chosen. The tattoo of her sin, for one. Wrath, he’d assigned her. Not that she ever believed, but she found wrath fairly fitting at the time.

In hindsight, he’d chosen wrong. It shouldn’t have been WRATH she spent hours getting covered up with flowers that she didn’t think particularly suited her. No. In retrospect, it should’ve been LUST.

But the tattoo wasn’t her only reminder of that time, of him. There was also the child she’d birthed, the child she adored. Her son. Hers. But, oh, did he look like his father. His hair dark where hers was blonde, eyes blue where hers were grey. He even had that same charming smile, the one that had worked so well on her those many years ago. The only thing of hers she could see on her child were her numerous freckles. But while her freckles remained always, her child had outgrown them by the time he hit high school.

Every now and then, he would say something, make some face, talk with his hands in a way that she was hit full force with the memory of his father. Both the horrible things he’d done and those stolen, secret nights they couldn’t keep apart from each other…

But mostly, usually, she looked at her boy and saw only him. James. Her perfect miracle baby. The gift that made everything about those dark days worth it in her eyes. He was such a happy, smiley baby. Always giggling and gurgling. He’d been talkative long before he learned how to speak. Always so sweet and kind. Petting her hair and telling her “Okay mommy… s’okay mommy…” as she purged herself of a stomach bug he’d brought home from daycare when he was too small to even form full sentences, while she in turn tried to reassure her baby that mommy was ok.

Even now, he was her perfect child. Still sweet, still happy. But now his own person. And she was so amazed by the person he’d become. He was funny. Funny in a way she never was. And so clever. Amazing grades as well as a quick wit. Patience loved her child and she knew how much he loved her too.

Even despite how he’d recently been pulling away.

~~~

James wondered how many signs he’d missed over the course of his life. How obvious it should have been. His mom had always told him she didn’t know who his father was. He recalled once, in one of his earliest memories, that she’d told him she chose his name because she’d always liked it, but also because she thought his father would like it too. He’d asked her about it later, and she said that she’d never said it. And he believed her. He was so little at the time; it could’ve easily been a false memory. He still wasn’t sure it’s not. After all, he had a memory from around the same time of flapping his arms and flying like a bird throughout the house, and that memory feels equally as real.

But whether or not she’d told him his father would like his name, she knew. His mom knew who his dad was the whole time. Because he looked exactly like one of them. The Seeds. The cult leaders. He looked exactly like John Seed. The Baptist. The sadistic monster who tortured and murdered and starved innocent people. Just reading about his crimes had been enough to give James nightmares for a week.

James had spent the past weeks learning everything he could about the Project at Eden’s Gate. And he was horrified at the thought his mom would ever willing have any sort of relationship with any of those men. He almost hoped she hadn’t. But if one of those men was his father, and his mom had in fact not been voluntarily involved with any of them… No. James couldn’t stomach the thought of that either.

No matter what the circumstances were back then, the situation now was that James was had told his mom he was spending the long weekend camping with a friend’s family, when in reality he was on a bus to Montana to meet the man who might be his dad. It had been surprisingly easy to contact John Seed.

James’ first letter hadn’t received a response. Probably because he had intentionally been a bit light on the details. Eventually he’d tried again, this time including his mom’s former name and, after much mental back-and-forth, a photo of himself.

And that had received a response.

[felixcloud6288]

Fullmetal Alchemist Chapter 78

10 days have passed after the last chapter.

I'm absolutely certain Mustang's crew were all sent away to be killed. Every single one of them is in a hotbed location for the national transmutation circle. Looks like Falman passed the information about the circle to Breda and Fuery.

And Sloth has finished the tunnel. It's been about two weeks since he was put back into the tunnel so I'm going to guess the tunnel was started very close to Briggs. Maybe the passage Kimblee found last chapter was near the starting point?

We're back in Reole. About 4 months prior, Ed revealed the Leto church to be a sham and reported it to East HQ. Eastern Troops came in to keep the area from falling into a riot. But then Central troops were deployed and the Eastern forces were dismissed. That's when the riots turned violent. That was roughly a week or two later. About a month later, the riots were under control, but many lives were lost.

No explanation is given why the riots stopped. Maybe all the Leto supporters were killed or maybe everyone just were tired of fighting. The Homunculi got what they wanted so there was no need to continue riling people up. Now, everyone's coming together to fix the damage that's been done and move forward.

Rose managed to take Ed's words to heart. Last we saw her, she was on the floor crying because she'd discovered everything she believed was a lie.

But now she's managing to smile despite everything that's happened and she's doing what she can to rebuild and move forward.

There must have been a need for multiple access points to the tunnel for moving refuse and to just get Sloth back on task quickly when he wandered off.

Remember how I mentioned the tunnel was being dug counterclockwise and Sloth had come from the East when he reached Briggs? Do you know where you'd end up if you traveled along a circlular arc traveling southeast from Briggs? You'd reach Reole.

Pride's shadow is large, but it's not infinitely large. Hohenheim said it can move freely within the tunnel, not that it is everywhere. So Pride has likely been hanging around the east part of the tunnel to overlook the processes to remove rubble and guard the newer entry points from any potential intruders.

The survey team Pride killed had probably gotten too close to Reole and Pride ended up discovering them on its patrols.

Hohenheim and Pride's discussion implies the concept of the seven deadly sins exists in the FMA verse. It doesn't seem to be a concept in Amestris though since no one connected the dots over the naming scheme. I'm going to say that in-universe, it was specific to Cselkcess culture and religion.

And Hohenheim is calling Father out. He's surprised Father put in the effort to make Pride look like his old form, and he calls Father arrogant and pompous. Hohenheim knows Father is a hack.

10 days is too short to deploy a military force like the one from Drachma. We also need to remove additional days to account for Kimblee traveling to the country and informing them about Major General Armstrong being recalled.

Al hasn't put his legs back on. Is he still blacking out? Are they worried he might fall over?

And once again, Arakawa is being a coward cause we're not seeing the buttcheek part of that leg.

We also now know Jelso is the frog chimera and Zanpano is the porcupine(?) chimera.

And Zanpano is making a call to the President. Since he was working with Kimblee, he probably had the President's number. I just want to know why Envy is answering the line.

Wrath: Hello President's office. Fuhrer President King Bradley speaking. Zanpano: I'm here to report the whereabouts of Marcoh. Wrath: One moment. *Shouting* Envy, it's for you! Envy: *Excitedly runs into the room and grabs the phone* Hello? You said something about Dr. Marcoh?

back

[rexcaliburechoes]

some misc late night diamant thoughts // literally no one asked

as an addendum this is 100% a-OK to add onto! I'm kinda spitting ideas out into the void tbh so if you wanna expand on anything I have here feel free to!

kinda wanna spoil diamant.

like, not testing his limits so he indulges in his darkest fantasies, not necessarily that, but more like watching him unravel under my hands and feeling how all of the tension bleeds out of his body as he sinks into something that's just as dangerous as conquering and warmongering: peace and vulnerability.

consider diamant slowly stripping away each and every layer of his armour, physical and metaphorical, exposing that soft underbelly of his deepest insecurities and letting them exist without fear of being taken advantage of, or being considered less than perfect. his soft demeanor isn't a flaw. it's just him. it's just who he is.

he's kind and fights for peace and thinks all too much about the world and so little about himself and tries to atone for every sin his country has committed in the past even if that's not all of his burden to bear but it's the cross he'll carry to his death because that's how brodia rules: through might, willpower, and sheer stubbornness to see it through.

he can take any hit and dish out punishment in equal magnitude and pull up his armour higher and higher, erecting more and more walls to protect himself from any perceived threat or potential for harm. he thrives in that environment, didn't you know? he's the only one allowed to be injured because he can take those hits and recover from them on his own. he doesn't need help, he doesn't need protection. he's his own self healing tank. he can hold out for as long as he needs.

but diamonds have their breaking point. he can only take so much heat before he crumbles to ash. he has exploitable weaknesses and flaws in his crystalline structure. he can only recover so much before the amount of enemies overwhelm him and he can't endure any more.

he's his father's son, the perfect crown prince, the healing warmth and protection for his allies. he'd martyr himself if his brother allowed it. what a lonely path he walks- he's not open to his brother because he idolises him and he needs to be a pillar of strength for him when he's already about to pass he, who has already likely hit his apex of strength. alcryst has time to grow. how much can diamant grow to keep himself stronger than his baby brother of 8 years? how much longer before alcryst surpasses him in skill and strength?

don't think about that. just keep training, working, fighting for peace, protecting his allies. his self imposed loneliness is nothing when it comes to the greater future that's at hand. there is no rest for the weary, not when lives are on the line.

because, if he rests, if he lets himself be vulnerable, then who's to say he's not working hard enough to embody his ideals?

he's scared, perhaps not deeply terrified at everything like his brother, but he still keeps (kept) a talisman of courage on him to give him strength. he does not draw courage from his allies (he does, but he can't afford to lean on them for fear of needing help and if he needs help than he's imperfect and that imperfection will cost him) but from perhaps even a childish belief. sure, perhaps he's drawing upon the strength of his culture- his people, even- but such an abstract ideal is just that: an ideal. a belief. a belief that is so far removed from the personhood of sitting down and talking with someone about his imperfections, is he a good son? will he be a good ruler? what will come to pass after the war? what if he's not strong enough? what if-?

don't think about that. just keep training, laughing with his allies, looking forward into the future no matter what it may bring. he isn't alone, he has allies to support him, to make him laugh, to fight for and protect. this isn't loneliness. it's just the burden of a king.

he's named after the diamond, after all. he can't afford imperfections (worrying about this all is an imperfection in itself. don't think about that.)

[genmaichafan]

I love your mafia AU so much and could just read about it all day. Could you try writting some of the angst and trauma coming with beeing part of the mafia with the Dimitrescu sisters or Donna like a first kill or a punishment for failing à mission ?

Sorry it took so long. At the same time im sure I should’ve took another day on this but im inpatient.

Any ways story under the cut

Request story of donnas first kill. Also i hope you don’t mind but i started putting my stories on ao3

Mammina always said i was a gentle girl.

Always sharing.

Never wanting to hurt anyone.

Always speaking when spoken to.

‘Im sorry mammina. You were wrong.’

There was a newly discovered darkness in Donna's eye. The singular eye reflecting the little light the upscale bathroom had to offer. Sanguine passion splashing off the walls onto the botanist face and clothes. onto the sink and mirror.

The object of said passion resting in the tub. Whose eyes were rolled up into the head. Blood still slowly dribbling from the nose. So cold, so stiff that the Ax stood upright into the ribcage.

Donna looked at her hands. While she did not remember doing such a passion, Donna had no doubt that the crimson laqueur gloving her hands was of the ‘poor dear Isabel’.

Donna thought of ways to dispose of the body. Donna twisted the unfamiliar taps. Water ran the over her fingers, clear liquid barely washed the sins off of her deed.

Chemical solution? Nah. Fertilizer? Maybe. if she cremated the body first maybe it would be harder to trace.

not that cops cared about people like her. Or herself for that matter.

In Donna's world justice was self served and often long coming.

______

“Tell me your not scared benevento!” The kids her ‘peers’ jeered.

”i'm not scared..i just don't want to do it.”

Donna was surrounded by kids her age. Circling her they trapped her in with a boy who seemed slightly younger than her.

”chicken fight chicken fight..” the mafioso nepo babies chanted.

”i dont wanna do it!” Donna squeaked up again.

”Jerry! Here's your chance!” Jerry readied himself, not wanting to take more of this school yard bullying, and lounged forward in pin wheeling his arms around till they met Donna with full pitiful force. Bonking her a couple times before she roughly pushed him away.

The crowd quickly dispersed after, quickly realizing how boring making two ‘wimps’ fight it out was.

Donna sniveled a bit, And began walking back to her pick up spot, head not taking her eyes up from the ground. Even when the dingy car arrived. Even when her father asked her about her day. Especially when her father asked her about her day.

Gianni her father looked at her sympathetically.

”piccola” donna didn't look up at her fathers endearment.

Even though Gianni was a mafioso, he was soft. Especially for his remaining girl.

“Papa, I don’t want to play with the other kids anymore.”

Gianni’s knuckle’s whited with anguish. Hearing your child rather be alone than play was cement casings around his heart. He had to do something.

________

It was weeks later and while Donna had begun to become lonely. playing by her lonesome til it was a chore to talk to the friends that weren’t there. Donna became rapidly accustomed to books.

________

”la Mia gioia?” Gianni peaked into his daughter's plain bedroom where she was raptured by her new book.

”yes papa?” Meeting her fathers eyes.

”I have a surprise for you!”

Gianni seemed genuinely excited, and Donna could not but become excited too! Putting down her book, forgetting to take a mental note of the page.

The beneviento house was larger than average; Mostly for the basement which her father often ran his ‘operation’ in, which his fellow employees often visited to do their ‘work’.

Upon reaching the living room Donna saw a man which she recognized as someone that would come over often; only to disappear in the basement. Beside him he held a girl donnas age close to him like a prized but delicate treasure.

this reminded donna of how her father held her.

’i wonder if she like books as well!’ Donna thought. Shielding herself behind her dad a bit.

”piccola! This is Isabel!” The introduction of which caused the girl to take an extroverted step forward.

“Shes going to be your new friend!” Gianni continued, removing himself from donna way.

isabel spoke up

”We are going to have so much fun together!” Donna could not help but feel slightly betrayed if not misunderstood, but she nodded to be polite. to which their fathers left them to go into the basement.

”can is see your room?”

Isabel looked rather excited glimmer in her eyes. Donna really had no choice but to oblige.

They made their way up to Donna's quaint room. Isabel pushed past Donna inside once she was sure it was the room. Quickly examining the space.

”oh hey-“ Isabel noticed the book that had been left behind.

”don't bother reading this one, it gets so boring after tigerstar dies.”

Donna's jaw tightened from the massive spoiler that Isabel had hit her with.

______

Isabel would often come over with her father, Often multiple times of the week. Isabel wasn’t OUTRIGHT the most terrible, but over time Donnas patience wore thinner and thinner.

One time she even took home the head of her favorite doll saying she had to steal some of her mother makeup to get it back. request of which she did not oblige despite loving her doll dearly.

Isabel throwing a temper tantrum at this. In fact she often did when she could not get donna to do what SHE wanted, even Isabel had a habit of ignoring doing the same in return.

til one day Isabel DID something that was too big.

she wanted to go into the basement and see the thing their fathers did.

Donna vehemently refused. This is the one thing her father forbade her to do.

The memory of which she remembered to this day.

the look on his face scared donna, he never looked this way ever. Donna made sure to remember this.

“Oh youre such a pussycat.-“ again passing donna who actually tried to fight back, which garnered an extra shove to Donnas back.

Donna of which was described as repressed was no longer so. Raising her vice in concern for fear of getting in trouble or worse. Followed Isabel around the luckily empty lab.

”god- just shut up im just looking-“ donna could not sway her and so tried to do so with force. grabbing Isabel by the wrist.

”Isabel stop being a brat!”

The truth sent Isabel into one of her tantrums. Who violently grabbed the nearest beaker and threw it into Donna's face without thinking.

The content of which was a solution that burned the right half of Donna's face.

She fell to the ground in agony.

Isabel, turning the corner from anger into fear, called for help.

Something in Donna went to sleep in that moment.the thing that woke up turned to Isabel. angry and was not done with this argument flipped the situation and choked the other girl with a newly discovered ferocity; promptly rendered Isabel unconscious.

Isabel's father was the one that found them both.

_____

Isabels father instantly blaming donna for the entire mess.

Donna trying to explain and not being listened to.

Isabel tried to speak up, but her father was not letting her get a word in.

Her voice dribbled out the mouth, falling flat of an actual attempt to help. It was clear even she was scared of her own father.

”Gianni-“ he went on and Donna could not hold her focus on the situation.

Donna become overwhelmed. Tears swelling in her one working eye.

with her face in the leftover stinging even after being washed.

The sadness of her fathers disappointed expression.

The anger of being blamed for something that was not her fault.

The anguish of not being believed.

_____

donna did not remember much after that. Just being told to go inside. And when they next reunited minutes later, her father was physically less of a man than before. Pinky finger is no longer there to cry and go home.

_____

Donnas still blamed herself till this day for what happened. Worsened by the fact that Isabel’s father became hers superior.

worsed by the fact that he never forgave their family.

worsened..its worsened until they had to pay their family their profits.

worsened when profits slipped.

worsened when Gianni did the only thing he knew would keep his family in good graces with the Don.

worsened when it was only her and mom. The stress of which caused her to miscarry.

____

Donna often “blacked out” during stressful moments after her father died.

Often troubled by dreams of a vulgar wolf under her skin that left her screaming in the night.

Her mother, tired, did all she could to ease her daughter's spirit.

Even getting advice from an estranged friend of the ‘family’. Whom of which mentioned a psychic medium that suggested that the only thing that could calm Donnas spirit now was her father himself.

____

The table had been set in a purposeful manner before donna. The woman contracted before her with an energy that she could not quite place.

she made note of her appearance: tall and fair. A regalness about her.

the room itself was full of draping cloth, crystals and tapestries on one of which was of an angel she was not familiar with, creating an optical illusion that the woman had wings of her own.

the incense was thick; The room dim.

Regal woman not even asking what Donna needed from her.

”you wish to speak to your dearly departed father yes?”

this shocked donna.

It did not occur to donna that her mother could have just have told her before hand.

Donna being vulnerable at the time ate it up.

”oh dear your fathers coming through” pausing. closing her painted eyes tightly which gave the appearance that he was hard to ‘hear’.

”my dear beloved daughter- its not your fault. Please let go- you have great things ahead of you. You have to continue my legacy- for me.”

Donna teared up.

”you also have a guardian angel dear-“ the woman fudged

“her name.. Angie”

____

the truth of which Donna's mother had explained to the medium that Donna's mental situation was growing worse: that her hastening forgetting spells would take on a persona of a slightly younger woman who named herself Angie.

While vulgar only really came out when Donna was ‘under attack’. Even going as far as protecting Donna from those who spoke unwell in front of her. Many that needed a little soap in the mouth. out mouthed. Many that needed punches. Got their lumps.

Angie needed to protect donna. So she did.

___

Many sessions went by. Donna and the medium grew rather ‘close’ whom of which she learned the name of was Miranda,( on the occasion mother Miranda as she saw herself as a priestess )

often mostly to talk to her father who never failed to come through even once. Donna became ‘indebted’ to Miranda.

many years and ‘sessions’ past down the stream of time.

Donna became an excellent chemist and botanist. Often being buried in her work. Proud, even if it was for the mob.

It made ‘Gianni’ so called proud.

Miranda never called on her for favors once during these years. Even when she became married to the former Don. Even at the wedding. Even after Cioara was born.

she never seemed to want something from her and she appreciated that.

Until the usurpation.

____

Donna's work phone rang.

“heisenberg” it said had it been optional donna would’ve ignored it. In fact she would’ve ignored him every time he called.

If she were to describe him she would donna would say “unsavory”

so much so she could just block out the call entirely. Not remembering much but remembering one specific call that ended in him calling her a “Jekyll and Hyde.” Whatever that was.

she picked up.

”hello?”

”Donna. I need you to do something.. please.”

The familiar voice of Miranda came through shaking with a tone that she has never heard before. A desperation that caught her attention. And before Miranda said what she needed she knew she could not refuse.

”yes?”

”I need you to back me up, I need you to-“ Donna did not remember the rest of the call.

When Donna next roused.

She was not at home. In fact she was in someone else’s home: One she'd only been to once before.

This time though it was dark. The light of the moon was beaming down on her and off the blood speckled walls.

Surprisingly she did not feel unsafe.

Something in her told Donna that whatever was needed was done. It was handled.

Donna looked at the body contained in the tub.

A woman her age. As embedded in her chest, past her ribcage.

Her eyes rolled back mouth agape.

It was Isabel Rugen.

Donna found out that she and a few footmen had cleared the rugen estate that day.

[carrs-universe-writes]

Commission from a friend

I recently commissioned my friend @grim-liturgy! I figured I’d share the short snippet with you guys. I highly implore you to commission him too. He’s a fantastic author!

--

The sound of footsteps in the rectory, and the knowledge that no one was supposed to be by let me know that you've arrived once more. It takes but a moment to track the sounds, footsteps, breathing, heartbeats, to the kitchen. You're sitting on the table, a pretty little meal that I can't eat, just within my grasp. 

"How nice, dinner decided to bring itself by," I say, lips curling up in a smile that reveals gleaming white teeth and sharp fangs. A predator's grin if there ever was one.

"There's my favorite mosquito," you say with a laugh, and I can't help but shake my head as I draw near. My hands rest on your hips, dragging you closer to the edge of the table. My head dips down, making me nearly bend in half, even with the added height of the table, nose dragging across your neck. The soft sound of a knife pulling free from a sheath and the burning sting of silver against my cheek has me laughing as I draw back. 

"So it has fangs after all," I murmur, still holding on to you, not allowing you the luxury of distance. Looking down at you is a little awkward, I have to lean back just a touch, but you don't seem to mind. 

You grin, leaning back, your hands planted on the table as you look back and up at me, flashing your neck in a way that has my eyes wandering. 

"It has more than fangs, Father," you say, a grin working its way across your face. Always so willful. If it didn't amuse me so much I'd have taken care of you the first time you tried to kill me. 

"It certainly does. Tell me, little hunter, why have you decided to drop in tonight? Going to try to stab me again?" I ask, though I don't seem too worried about the possibility. "Or maybe you seek forgiveness? Penance for your sins against the church?"

Your smile is a mocking thing as you roll your eyes, "Sins against you, you mean? I don't know, I guess I wanted to make sure that you hadn't started growing cobwebs." 

I wait, watching you closely, ears filled with the sound of your heart that picks up in pace the longer I'm silent. 

"Okay, whatever, there might have been another hunter that talked about coming by this area and maybe I wanted to see if someone had managed to put a stake in you yet, happy?" You snap, a gorgeous blush rising high on your cheeks. 

"It does care," I coo, mocking with a sweetness that feels a little too real. A little to true. You huff, looking away, and I reach forward, gripping your chin lightly to bring your gaze back to mine. "You don't need to worry about me little hunter. They've been dealt with. Your, concern, is touching."

"Yeah, well, you're growing feeble in your old age. I was sure that a stray gust of wind and a splinter would do you in by now," you grumble, trying to sidestep more genuine emotions. It's habit for me to allow it, to play along with a bit of a laugh. 

"I ought to snap your neck here and now for that," I threaten, my grip still on your chin.

Your smile is softer now, a little more truthful, "You won't though." There's more hidden in those words, unspoken acknowledgements that I care far too much for you. That I'd allowed you to live after trying to kill me the first time. 

"You're right. I won't," I agree, letting the truth of my words sink in as I let my hand drop back down to your hip. I should have killed you ages ago, just like you should be trying to stab me through the heart with the dagger that rested on the tabletop. We should be doing a lot of things. Falling in love isn't one of them. 

[angelofrainfrogs]

Spend the Night: Ch. 10

Spend the Night: Ch. 10

~Coauthored by @zeitghest~

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

Description: The familiar melody of Grandfather’s Clock chimes through the echoing halls of the Pizzaplex…

Charlie wakes up in her Puppet’s vessel yet again with one goal in mind: to stop William Afton’s reign of terror for good. She enlists the help of Glamrock Freddy, the emphatic leader of the newest iteration of the Fazbear Band. But there seems to be more to this bear than meets the eye—and the same goes for the mysteriously familiar kid the duo find tinkering with animatronics down in Parts & Service.

With some help from friends new and old, Charlie’s journey into the bowels of the Pizzaplex will unravel mysteries none of them ever expected. 

Rating: T

Read on Ao3

Now behave For the voices in the halls Will try to eat you up alive So before the show begins Please don't hold against our sins 'Cause by dawn you'll be crumbling in your skin

~Unfixable by Dagames~

“You haven't been a home to me in decades, Father,” Michael spat, releasing Charlie so she could get out of his way.

He honestly didn't know what he was going to do right now. There were so many options: claw William's eyes out? Slice off his ears first? Go for the legs and incapacitate him, then work on the ears?

But... no. Michael caught that gleam in the rabbit's eyes—that look of utmost confidence, like nothing in the world could hurt him at that moment. And then, the gravity of the situation finally dawned on the eldest Afton.

Gone was the greenish-yellow fur, decayed after years of being soaked with a combination of oil, mold, and rotting human remains. The outer casing, once torn enough to show literal human bones and mummified tendons poking through, was now bright purple and pristine. A golden, red-rimmed star graced his left cheek, reminiscent of a sticker a kid might press onto their favorite toy. This was still Bonnie, but not the version Michael had associated with his father for so many years.

In a hushed, horrified tone, he whispered: “You... you have a new body? How...?”

“Ah ah ah!” William tutted, gently tapping the side of his muzzle, the nose squeaking with each press. “I'm an entertainer, Michael. I can't give away every magic trick.”

He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms, Bonnie’s ever-smiling grin seeming to widen. The over confidence in his movements reminded Charlie of the day those angry little souls had cornered him, right before he ran into that bunny suit. This was what Charlie truly feared with William’s persistent immortality, and she tried to discreetly make herself smaller as she stood by her friend.

“Honestly—it would bore you two with how much you missed,” William sighed, looking to Michael and raising Bonnie’s dark eyebrows. “In a roundabout sort of way, I have a new body the same way you do.”

As usual, that answered nothing at all. William had never explained anything that was happening to them, only leaving clues in his wake for Michael to find and scrabble the mismatched pieces together.

“Now that I've leveled the playing field, I believe you both wanted to speak to me?” He gave them a lopsided smirk, knowing that Charlie was cowering. She didn't even look animate at that moment, frozen like a statue behind Foxy’s swashbuckling coat.

Initially, Michael could only growl in response. He took a threatening step forward, but it was half-hearted. He hated to admit it, but he was a bit scared. William was intimidating in this new form, so self-confident and sure—a far cry from the last time Mike had seen him, rotting and burning on the way to his own personal hell.

Well. So much for that plan, Uncle Henry, Michael thought with a grimace. Eventually he found the will to talk again, voice cold and hard.

“We want to do more than just speak to you,” he snarled through clenched teeth, flexing sharp claws and an even sharper hook. “Most of what we want to do doesn't involve words. But I do have one thing to say—I've tried to tell you for years, but you didn't listen.” Michael let out a mirthless laugh. “You've never listened, though, so I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised. But maybe you'll be more receptive with your new and improved ears.”

He locked gazes with his father and spoke in a tone that begged absolutely no question. “I HATE you.”

William didn't really expect anything different. Or, really a response at all. His ears twitched at the words, giving off a look of... remorse?

Surely not; it was doubtful that man was even capable of such an emotion anymore.

“Such harsh words for your father, Michael. My only regret is not telling you everything from the start. Probably would have made all this less confusing for you.” William turned, unconcerned by his son's threatening posture. He instead focused on fixing his bowtie in the mirror.

“—Got to say, this reunion is a bit disappointing. I expected at least a ‘thanks, dad,’” he went on, his reflection gesturing towards Charlie as his eyes locked onto Michael’s in the glass. “I understand that Charlotte hates me. What excuse do you have, Michael?”

“What excuse...?”

That did it. If Mike thought he was mad before, it was nothing compared to how he felt right now.

“What excuse?! You've taken everything from me, and killed so many innocent people in the process! Charlie, Lizzie... even Uncle Henry wouldn't have died in that fire if you hadn't forced him into making that stupid plan to get rid of you—and I'm so, utterly disappointed it didn't work.”

Sharp teeth were bared now as Michael completely ignored the others in the room. It was just William and himself. Father and son. Murderer and—

“You even killed me, you know.” Michael's voice was dangerously soft, an opposite reflection of the turmoil and pain he felt inside. “If it weren't for your atrocious Funtimes, I wouldn't have been scooped! Did you even know about that?! How the soul of my dead sister and her creepy robot friends thought I was you and tore my insides out, then piloted my body around for a week until they left me to die on the sidewalk?!”

Michael palmed at his metal stomach, a faint echo of the past and the shock he'd experienced that day.

“But unfortunately, my soul stuck around. Didn't you wonder why the fuck I was purple when I finally found you again? It wasn't just the uniform, dad—I was corpse, just like you. And it was all because I was cursed with your disgusting, murderous face.

“So, to answer your question: there’s quite a few reasons why I despise you with every fiber of my being.”

Finally Michael clenched his jaw shut, unwilling to say more. If he tried, he feared he might just start screaming. He glanced at Charlie by his side, and too late he realized that he wasn't sure how much she knew about his initial death and how he'd existed afterwards.

Puppet had her mouth covered. It was horrific. Michael had truly suffered through the years. The trial of watching everyone around you die, including yourself... Unable to stop the horrible cycle that William refused to end.

“Why?” Charlie asked, her voice box muffled by her hands. “William, why?”

Will was close to the mirror now, hand braced against it. Death had jaded him, certainly. His feelings long-eroded, the only thing left in his mottled brain was his original idea—to use the souls of children to reanimate his loved ones. When one dead child became another, in turn the universe sent another tragedy to rip his family away.

But despite all this, William persisted. When he found the world's best bandage for the nastiest boo-boo, how could he just sit idly by and let death win?

“I didn't mean to leave you, Michael. You're right, it's all my fault.” William turned, moving slowly as he stepped closer to them. Answering Charlie's question, he responded in a delusional voice. “Sometimes, you'll do crazy things for the people you care about. You can't stop me...”

“Killing kids sure is a funny way to show you care!” Michael yelled, shifting in front of Charlie protectively. “This ends tonight, Father.”

And with that he lunged, pirate hook glinting in the dim light as he swiped at William's face.

“No!” Vanny shrieked, finally spurred into action by the legitimate threat to her savior. She lurched forward as well, though she'd been lingering in the doorway and had a few feet to travel before she could reach them.

Charlie thought if she couldn't muster the courage to fight William, she'd keep Vanessa from getting herself killed while Michael fought his father. Sideswiping Vanny, Puppet attempted to grapple her to the ground.

“I'm sorry, Vanessa!” she yelped over the sound of them both hitting the hard concrete.

Vanny simply shrieked as she was tackled. She struggled valiantly, but though Charlie wasn't nearly as tough as her Glamrock counterparts she was still stronger than a human—even a pissed off one in a bunny suit.

William saw the attack coming, ducking his head as the heavy claw swung to pierce the metal casing on his face. A short gasp escaped his lips, surprised by his own speed before shooting a fist out.

“I did it to bring him back! I would have done it for any of you!” he explained fruitlessly. William had gone crazy, unable to understand how destroying all those naïve children’s futures would never make up for the death of his own family.

Michael grunted at the blow to his stomach, unable to dodge fast enough. Unlike his father with decades of experience piloting an animatronic that was far inferior to his new one, Mike had only been at this for less than an hour.

“Don't... don't you dare talk about Evan!” Michael yelled once he'd regained his balance. “I wanted him back, too, but I also needed you! My dad, who was supposed to help me, just... left me!”

Yes, William might’ve been physically there to make sure his remaining kids’ basic needs of food and shelter were met, but Evan's death unintentionally severed whatever emotional connection they'd had. A cross between a sob and a growl of anguish escaped Foxy's voice box as Mike tried another swipe at William, this time for his arm.

The emotional drain of this encounter was already taking its toll. Mike was losing focus, unable to think of how to outsmart this tricky, old soul as his mind narrowed to a pinpoint of:

Slash, maim, destroy, KILL

Vanny's anguished screams were freaking Charlie out. If she’d broken a bone, she was going to feel awful… Still, it was better than either of the enraged Aftons outright murdering her by accident. That was what she and Michael were trying to avoid in the first place.

The Bonnie suit was dexterous, but William could only move so fast. A light scratch marked up the paint on his arm as he dodged his son's second cutthroat swipe.

“I thought you were strong enough to be on your own! You hate me for having faith in you?!” Jumping onto a nearby workbench, William shouted at Michael as he kicked crates of spare parts to keep him at bay.

“How the hell was I supposed to know you had faith in me?! I was still a kid!” Michael snapped back, stalking closer to William and doing his best to either dodge or smack away the flying parts that came at him. “You might not have treated me like one, but I was! And I'd just watched my brother die in front of my eyes! Why can't you understand how horrific that was?! All the guilt I felt?! I know it was my fault, but you weren't even there to listen to me admit it!”

Vanny could see William steadily getting closer to her. Spurred on by this she redoubled her efforts to escape Puppet's grasp, ignoring the dull ache in her right arm; she'd probably bruised something, but to her relief it didn't quite feel like a broken limb. After a bit, Vanny managed to struggle her upper torso free and hold out her arms, hoping William would be able to snatch her up and take them both away now that he finally had a body of his own.

“Michael, I—” Will began, before he spied where Charlie was wrestling Vanessa on the ground.

She was the key for getting around in this damn place. Vanny was still useful, and so William hopped down from the table and kicked Charlie away like she was nothing more than an annoying gnat. The Puppet smacked the wall painfully, her skull beginning to emit sparks and a hard grinding noise as she attempted to silence her music box. Moving suddenly became harder now.

Scooping Vanny up and holding her under the arms, William brandished the patchwork rabbit towards his son. “Ah! Don't move! You wouldn't want to hurt my friend by accident, right, Michael?”

Vanny giggled deliriously. It seemed that the more unhinged William became, so did the lingering glitch in her brain. What Vanny perceived as a comforting hug and a friendly warning was Will mostly just using her as a meat shield—yet she was lax in his grip, letting most of her weight drape over the animatronic's arm. “Yes... We're friends~”

Michael froze in his tracks. Directly in front of him was his father, the man he'd been trying to take down for nearly his entire life. Again, William was using an innocent to further his own selfish needs. The orange eyes of the fox shifted. To his left was Charlie, clearly damaged and hurting. Mike could try for Will, and he might actually be able to do something about him once and for all...

But that was only a possibility. However, there was a guarantee that William would injure Vanessa without hesitation if Michael moved towards him. He couldn't risk another life lost—physically, at least. He didn't even want to think about the mental torment Vanessa was going through with a crazed child murderer in her head.

Michael turned away from his father with a snarl, rushing to his dearest friend. As he gently picked her up and analyzed the fresh damage, he called out in a strained voice: “Charlie! Charlie, are you awake? Can you still talk?!”

William happily squeezed Vanny, pleased that the plan worked as he attempted to shuffle out of the room.

Live to fight another day, he thought, knowing Vanny couldn't possibly disagree with how happy she was to be snuggling with her favorite pal. Though it hurt to leave Michael yet again, he knew his son just wouldn't understand yet. Clearly he’d been hanging around Henry's brat for too long, and she’d started to make Michael soft.

Charlie was having trouble turning her head and her music box drowned out any helpful words she may have had. All she could do was raise her hand and point at the troublesome bunnies escaping. She was more worried about William leaving than her own wellbeing.

“Ha-Have to s-stop—” Charlie sputtered in a garbled radio frequency. The harder she tried to talk, the worse the grinding noise became.

“Shh, shh, okay, just—relax,” Michael tried to soothe, knowing his words were probably useless. He could feel the panic and confusion emanating from the Marionette, and it took all his willpower not to turn around and stop William as he ran out the door with his human “friend.” Michael waited for the heavy animatronic footsteps to recede down the hall, teeth clenched and head hung in shame. Once he could no longer hear Will stomping he lifted Charlie into his arms, helping her wrap around his body as best she could.

“I'm sorry I let him get away,” he murmured in whatever was considered the Puppet's ear, rocking her slightly in a vague attempt at comfort. “But if I acted again, he was going to kill Vanessa, and I... I couldn't let him do that. She's still useful to him, so he's not going to try anything for a while. At least, I hope.”

He stopped shifting, squeezing his eyes shut as he took in a simulated, shuddering breath. “God, I can't... I-I let you get hurt again, Charlie. I’m sorry...”

“No—t you—your f-f-fault,” she corrected as her hand went out to weakly pet the side of his head.

They had fallen right into the trap. The bastard couldn't even fake being sincere before trying to kill her again, Charlie thought with a white-hot anger. Now Vanny and Gregory were in more danger than ever because she still wasn’t strong enough to stop him. None of this was because of Michael, though, and she needed him to know it.

“D-Don't bla—ame yourself,” her voice box strained to say.

Michael simply squeezed her tight for a good while. Then, he let out a determined huff and turned to the doorway.

“Right, no time to waste—let's get you repaired so we can track down those bunnies again,” he said, starting to walk back towards Parts & Service.

Repairing Charlie wouldn't be a problem at all with his technical prowess. Michael would get her fixed up and then they could check on Freddy and Gregory to make sure the pair were okay before resuming their search for William. In the chaos of their recent encounter, he'd almost forgotten about the other rogue animatronics, the boy hiding from them, and his steadfast robotic protector.

...Almost. Despite it all, Gregory was in the back of his mind. He couldn't let another child befall the same fate as those they'd already lost due to William's madness.

It was frustrating. Clearly her friend needed words of encouragement, but Charlie was unable to properly annunciate her feelings to Michael about how he couldn't be there to protect everyone all the time, no matter how hard he tried. Without Freddy, yes, Charlie would be furious that they’d left Gregory behind.

But thankfully, none of them had to do this alone.

The Puppet did attempt to console Michael some more, but as she tried to nuzzle against him her head snapped painfully to the side and her music box crackled slightly behind the mask. “S... sorry—orry.”

“Hey, I said relax!” Michael gently chided, hoping his light demeanor would detract from his obvious worry. He’d be able to fix her—he would. She’d be speaking normally in no time at all. He managed a small laugh. “You’re still not going to listen to me after all these years, huh? So stubborn…”

She was trying too hard, maybe. Charlie felt called out as he carried her through the darkness. Even with her dented skull, she’d fight tooth and nail to try and do things her way.

Still, it was hard to argue with Michael’s logic. Stressing herself out would only make the damage worse. For now Charlie would have to be content with being carried like a doll again. Giving Mike something close to a pouting huff, her hands fell uselessly to relax on her torso as she remembered all the times she took not being broken for granted.

“Much better!” Mike’s laugh was a bit more genuine now, eyes lighting up as he spied the repair cylinder. He wasted no time in rushing inside and locking the door. Moon had disappeared to who knows where after their last encounter, but Michael didn’t want to risk being caught by surprise should he or another animatronic return.

Righting the overturned chair, he gently set Charlie in it. “Okay! First thing I’ll do is check inside your faceplate to see—”

Whatever excitement has started to build was instantly quashed as Michael moved his right hand to begin working… only to remember that he now had a shining hook in place of fingers. That certainly put a damper on a fast repair.

“Well, shit.”

***

Freddy hadn’t had time to respond to Charlie before she and Michael rushed out of the security office in search of whatever wrote those taunting messages on the monitor. The bear stared after them, blinking a few times; at least they’d had the wherewithal to close the door behind them.

Freddy soon refocused on his most pressing concern: Gregory, who was still sitting in his lap. Now that the others were gone it was just the two of them, and by the look on the poor boy’s face it was clear their swift departure distressed him.

“Are you alright, superstar?” Freddy asked, looking down with concern.

Gregory shook his head. Whatever had gotten the two so worried now had completely vanished from the monitors. Lifting his eyes, the boy met Freddy’s gaze worriedly.

“Is there any way we can help them?” he decided to ask, wondering if this battle was something they could aid in or if they’d just have to sit back and wait.

“At the moment, I do not know,” Freddy admitted with a frown.

Of course he wanted to help, but Michael’s reaction had been so strong, Freddy knew that whatever they were up against was a far greater threat than he realized. If only they’d actually gotten to talk to each other before he and Charlie stormed off…

Freddy’s eyes snapped to Gregory’s. The bear might have been out of commission for a while, but the boy hadn’t.

“You can help me with something, though—there is a small gap in my memory from when I was powered down,” he explained. “Did you learn any new information from Charlie and Michael while I was out? Anything about them personally, or this situation as a whole?”

Clearly Mike’s soul had found its way into Foxy, but how much did Gregory understand about their true ghostly nature? Did he know that Michael and Charlie were more than just rogue AI programs like Freddy had indicated earlier? The bear needed to gauge the boy’s level of understanding before he could speak further so he didn’t overwhelm him.

Gregory looked to Freddy again with a heavy crease in his brow. Poor, innocent Freddy. He was going to be shocked when he heard this... It’s a good thing he was already sitting down.

“Oh man,” Gregory began, bracing himself by placing a hand at the middle of the bear’s chest. “I don’t know how to tell you this…”

With the concerned look the bear was giving him, he figured the best way to say it was to come right out with it. After a huge sigh, Gregory admitted: “I’m sorry… But I found out that Mike and Charlie? They’re ghosts—they’ve been haunting this place for a while I think. I know that might be hard to understand, but… but they’re just people, you know? I think they died super young.”

He hoped this didn’t change the way Freddy saw their friends in the long run.

“…Ah.” The bear nodded in understanding, not seeming shocked at all. “So they told you. I was aware of their ghostly nature, though I do not know how or why they came to be this way.” He gave Gregory an apologetic smile. “I am sorry we kept that from you—we were not sure how you would react.”

Then he frowned, processing something else Gregory said. “Wait… They are both young?”

This time there was a hint of shock in his voice. He realized just then how little he actually knew about the spirits. He’d seen Charlie’s face in Michael’s memories, but the man in Freddy’s head still remained a mystery. Whatever jumbled thoughts had slipped through when they were tied together still didn’t make much sense to the bear.

Then, something clicked: Michael and… Charlie. No—Charlotte. That was her full name. She’d revealed her identity earlier, when Freddy was still new to the concept of ghosts and his electronic brain couldn’t quite connect all the dots.

“When I was human, my father was the co-owner of the original Fazbear dinner.”

She was Charlie Emily. So then, if she’d claimed to know Michael for a long time the logical conclusion was that he was in fact Michael Afton—son to the other founder of Fazbear Entertainment, William, who'd been mysteriously wiped from every record possible for reasons unknown to anyone in this day and age.

But… that was impossible. Charlotte had died many years ago, and Michael had gone missing a few years after. Even Freddy’s simple history of the company told him that much.

So if they were somehow back from the dead… what did that mean?

Oh great! Gregory wondered what other secrets were being kept from him. While he pouted as Freddy told him the truth, he didn’t seem very mad—just annoyed at being out of the loop. Honestly, things could be a lot weirder. They’d already faced strangeness head-on together, as killer robots had seemed farfetched in Gregory’s arsenal of potential threats until this evening.

Back to Freddy’s question. How old was Michael really? Hard to say, coming from a kid who thought anyone over the age of eighteen was an “adult.” When Gregory saw Mike’s face—his real face—he looked pretty young. Whether he was still a teen had Gregory scratching his head, though he was willing to bet Michael was on the older side given his attitude towards himself and his apparent love of 80’s glam metal.

Gregory gave Freddy an undecided shrug. “I think he’s probably, like… like—if we’re talking about when he died? I saw his ghost, and he didn’t look super old. Maybe 20, 21?”

Gregory was terrible with guessing ages anyway, and he could only assume from the stuff he’d learned through movies that ghosts’ appearances were essentially “stuck” as they were when they kicked the bucket. Still, that left the question of how Charlie and Mike lost their lives and attached themselves to this place and the animatronics around them.

Even with Gregory’s haphazard guess of Michael’s age, Freddy’s assumption still tracked relatively well. He wouldn’t know for sure until he asked them, but combining all his scattered knowledge it did seem like their new friends were in fact Michael Afton and Charlotte Emily.

“…I think this mystery goes much deeper than you and I can hope to understand until we reunite with our friends,” Freddy eventually said with a slow shake of his head. Then he gave Gregory a smile and gently ruffled his hair. “But that is alright—as we do not know how long they will take, you and I can still make ourselves useful by getting the rest of those access passes. The more areas of the Pizzaplex are open to us, the better off we will be in the long run.”

He looked to the monitors again, his expression falling slightly. “And if we find a way to stop the other animatronics from chasing you along the way… so be it.”

Freddy hoped they would simply be able to avoid his infected friends while they wandered, but based on Roxy’s increasingly erratic behavior he had a feeling they might be on higher alert as the night went on. If things came down to it, Freddy would protect Gregory in whatever way necessary—even if it was at the expense of his once-lovable companions.

Gregory could think of a few ways to stop them from chasing him. Smash them; dismantle them; burn them. Really, if Freddy wasn't looking and one of his "buddies" was threatening him, the kid might just snap. If Freddy happened to find one of his pals smashed from a fall at a broken escalator, Gregory would own up to it if asked. Though he couldn't see himself regretting it.

After all, they could be rebuilt and downloaded back into new bodies; Gregory couldn't. Not unless he was like Michael or Charlie.

“I'm ready if you are!” the boy said, excited to get moving again. The faster they got those access passes, the quicker they could help the others and escape the danger of the Pizzaplex.

“Excellent! Now, the next two passes can be found in the Monty Golf and Fazer Blast offices,” Freddy explained. “I believe the easiest one to retrieve is in the golf course; however, we need Party Passes to enter both locations, so…”

He trailed off, staring straight ahead with a frozen expression of concentration, save for his eyes which rapidly moved back and forth. Freddy’s AI was calculating the most logical path to achieve their objective based on all the tasks needed to do so.

“Alright, here is the plan!” he announced after a moment, ready to make some progress. “Chica keeps a stock of Party Passes in her room; we will go there first, retrieve the passes, then stop by my room on the way to Monty Golf—I have a gift for you that I think will prove quite useful to both of us.” The bear grinned, knowing Gregory would be excited by this prospect. Hopefully getting a present would lighten his spirits a bit. “Then, we can head to Monty Golf, retrieve the next security card, and return here to figure out the next step. How does that sound?”

Gregory looked at Freddy like he’d put stars in his eyes. He’d seen the animatronics give gifts to children at their parties before—usually a company raffle or special ticket that a kid could use to receive an exclusive prize.

“Heck yeah! Let's blow this popsicle stand!” Gregory exclaimed, hopping off Freddy’s lap and rushing to the door. He seemed to bounce slightly from one foot to another as he waited for the bear to take his hand, anticipating the useful gift.

Freddy laughed at the boy's contagious excitement, quickly unplugging his charging cord and setting it on the desk. He debated carrying it around in his stomach hatch just in case of another power drain, but he'd much rather assure that Gregory had room to hide inside if needed. Besides, the path they were about to take was littered with charging pods, so Freddy should have no problem locating one if his battery started to drain a bit too low for comfort.

Taking Gregory's hand, the bear led him back to Rockstar Row. They looked around cautiously for animatronics, but it was eerily silent in the museum. The others must be on patrol elsewhere in the Pizzaplex—a concerning thought for later, but it suited their immediate purposes just fine. After a quick stop in Chica's room to snatch a few Party Passes, the pair were back in Freddy's abode.

“Let me see...,” Freddy murmured, rummaging around in the drawers of his vanity. “I know I had one in here—aha!”

With a triumphant grin, he held up a small object by the tips of his claws. It was a child-sized watch, made to resemble Freddy's color palate and even complete with a set of tiny ears and top hat. “Take this—it is a novelty Freddy Fazwatch. This one is particularly special, as it is synced directly to myself. This way, I will be able to communicate with you if we ever get separated.”

Gregory had never been given such a gift before. It was on his wrist in mere seconds as he admired the sturdy, rounded plastic edges. There were several neat properties of the watch, despite its size. He could write notes on the interactive touch screen and even pull up a map. With the ability to zoom in on any attraction or store to get his bearings, Gregory wouldn't have to worry about accidentally being separated from Freddy or the others anymore!

Testing out the watch Gregory raised his wrist to his face, feeling like a spy from a futuristic movie.

“Can you hear me? Over.” He chuckled, able to hear himself echoing somewhat from the bear’s close proximity. “Thank, Freddy!”

“You are very welcome, superstar!” Freddy replied, his voice coming from both the watch and the bear himself. “Now you can call for me if you are ever in trouble—or if you ever just want to talk. Over.”

His expression softened at Gregory's smiling face. He'd never seen the boy so happy before, since he'd mostly been running from things trying to hurt him from the moment they’d met. The bear was glad that he could provide some joy, no matter how small it was.

As he watched Gregory continue to check out the features of the watch, Freddy felt a strange pang in his chest. He wasn't quite sure what prompted it, nor what it really was... The closest point of reference he had was a file in his databank of simulated emotions labeled “affection.” He cared about all the children he met, of course—he was literally designed to.

But Gregory... he was special. Maybe it was simply because they'd been through so many tough things in such a short amount of time, or maybe it was due to the ghost that’d apparently lived in his head for who knows how long. Michael's emotions were strong, after all, so who’s to say they couldn't rub off on an incredibly sentient AI?

As Freddy stared down at this brave, resilient child, he realized that he couldn't let him go back to that foster home. Until they found a more suitable guardian, someway, somehow, Freddy vowed to protect Gregory until he could no longer function.

On the other hand, Gregory tended to keep those affectionate feelings down. Hell, he'd only just become comfortable hugging the animatronics after discovering which ones were friendly versus murderous—and even that was dicey with those like the Daycare attendant. If Gregory wasn't so stoic for a child, he'd probably gush about how Freddy was his favorite.

That he loved him...

Though if life taught Gregory anything, it was that good things aren't meant to last. He’d wait to tell Freddy that he didn't want to leave—and that if he had to leave, Freddy would be coming with him one way or another. By the end of the night, he wouldn't be surprised if a patrol car was waiting outside to pick Gregory back up, ready to corral him back to his foster family...

Still, he'd let Freddy know his immediate appreciation with a quick hug. Even if the gift was essential to helping them, it was thoughtful nonetheless. Gregory would probably be bothering him a lot should they be separated for even the smallest reason, if only to keep tabs on the bear.

“Monty Golf next?” he asked, curiously flicking between the maps as he scoped out the gator’s attraction ahead of time.

“Yes—the access pass is in the back staff area. We will need to cross through some of the golf course to get to it.” Freddy peered down at the watch as well. Those camera feeds were definitely going to be useful for traversing this place full of wild robots out for Gregory's blood. “I do not see Monty roaming around—we should move quickly though, in case he decides to show up.”

During the day, the animatronics defaulted to staying in their attractions unless performing on stage, attending a birthday party, or otherwise requested to make an appearance somewhere else in the Pizzaplex. Even on those rare occasions they'd been allowed to roam during night shift, the group usually hung out together in one attraction before splitting off to do their own things until summoned back to their rooms. It wouldn't surprise Freddy at all to see the gator's tail swishing just out of the camera's view the next time they checked.

Trotting down the hall with Freddy's hand enveloping his, Gregory was feeling more confident and less scared roaming the massive complex. He wasn't alone, and the chances of them running into something friendly had technically increased. His mood began to turn further as they entered the dimly lit, electric swamp-themed attraction. The ambient sounds promised a fun game, and so did the music playing automatically as the attraction sensors caught Gregory's movements upon entry.

“It really sucks that Monty’s sick,” Gregory sighed, almost melancholic as he looked across an indoor pond. “It would’ve been real cool hanging out with him here…”

“I think you and Monty would get along fantastically,” Freddy said, smiling down at him. Gregory's rambunctious personality was just the type of kid Monty adored—someone up for trying anything and everything, willing to check out whatever cool topic caught their attention next. If the gator was himself, Freddy knew that he'd probably have quite the time keeping Gregory and Monty apart.

“Perhaps once all this is over and everyone is back to normal, you can stop by for a round of golf,” Freddy suggested as they neared a door leading to the back staff area.

His tone was light and nonchalant, pointedly neglecting to mention the unspoken addition of “—and since you will be staying here, you will have all the time in the world to do so.”

The bear was getting ahead of himself again; how was he supposed to keep a human child in the Pizzaplex?

That was definitely a topic to dwell on later. For now, though, they continued through the faux-swap, keeping vigilant for any wayward gators that might be hiding in the foliage waiting to snap at them.

“You can stop by...”

Right. It was all going to end eventually, wouldn't it? There was the Pizzaplex, and there was reality. Sooner or later Gregory would have to come back to it all. His smile faltered thinking about it—how it'd inevitably end up with Gregory being punished for running away, and forbidden from ever visiting this place again. No real family to care about him other than being another government paycheck in their wallets...

To hide the sudden spike in anxiety, Gregory forced a smile and said: “Yeah! I-I mean, if I'm allowed...”

Even if he had to sneak out, Gregory would keep finding a way back. Just as soon as they made this a safer place to visit again—not just for himself, but for the other children, too. For the ones taken without explanation, never to return.

Freddy simply squeezed Gregory's hand in response. He hadn't meant to make the boy upset. Hopefully what they were about to find would bring that smile right back to his face!

“Here we are!” Freddy announced as they made it to the security office. Out of habit, they automatically locked down the doors upon entering the room—this one was the smallest so far, with barely enough space for the pair to fit due to the clutter of boxes and tons and tons of random toys.

“Ah... I forgot that this area is also used as a sort of Lost and Found,” Freddy explained, leaning over to examine one of the box's contents. “Well, it is more of a room to confiscate Faz Cameras—there is no flash photography allowed in Monty Golf, yet this is the only location that sells the cameras, so they get taken often.” He paused to frown, then shook his head and resumed searching. “It does not make much sense. However—”

With a bright grin, Freddy produced a novelty camera bearing his features and held it out to Gregory. “—now we also have this! Our eyes are very sensitive to the flash, so it might prove useful in evading the other animatronics.”

And there was another genuine smile as Gregory saw the camera as a new gift, too. The device was nice and sturdy and it doubled as a novelty flashbang. Not only could he practically blind the animatronics when needed, he’d get free pictures of them in the process! Usually those were $10 up front.

“That doesn't make sense—” Gregory agreed, grinning impishly at the weapon. “—but I won't question it because it's helping us out.” He turned around and took an experimental picture, mindfully facing the flash away from Freddy. When the Polaroid printed out and fell to the ground, an intrusive thought fleetingly sliced through his mind.

If tonight was Gregory’s last night on Earth—if Vanny or the robots killed him—a picture may be the only proof that he was there.

Freddy winced at the flash, still a little bright for him in the tiny space, but thankfully Gregory's forethought to turn the camera away saved him from the worst of it. His eyes reset as Gregory examined the Polaroid, and then Freddy shuffled past him to the cluttered security desk. He moved a few stacks of papers, trash, and confiscated toys before spotting the access pass holder.

“Excellent; here is the pass! Now we can return to—hmm?” The bear let out a confused exclamation as he took a good look at the ticket in his hand. It was not in fact a security access pass, but an entry ticket to... Mazercise? “What in the world—”

“Lookin' for somethin', Fazbear?” A loud, deep voice sounded from outside the room, followed by a roaring laugh.

“Hide!” Freddy hissed, automatically opening his stomach hatch for Gregory to hop into. As long as he didn't actually see Gregory, perhaps Monty would be a little less... feral. Maybe the animatronics could have two seconds of conversation before everything hit the fan.

Gregory had wanted to use the camera flash, but it looked like Freddy didn't enjoy the last picture he’d taken. So instead he was quick to jump into the safety of the surprise compartment, advising Freddy in a whisper: “Act mean! Like you're one of them!”

Who knew—maybe such a ruse would buy them some time. Gregory was afraid of Freddy getting into a fight with Monty. The bear would surely be scratched up by Monty's claws, and if the gator managed to pry Freddy open Gregory would only have the camera as his last means of defense...

Freddy's chest hatch closed him in complete darkness, and Gregory was alone and waiting as Monty banged at the magnetically locked doors.

“Montgomery Gator, stop that!” Freddy yelled, though he did take Gregory's words to heart and smack against the door in response. This action seemed to startle Monty, who paused his assault to peer in the window instead.

From what Freddy could see, Monty was messed up—far worse than Roxy, covered in dirt and grime and who knows what else. It really looked like the gator had been crawling around in the sewers, and one of the spokes of his prized star glasses had been chipped off. If nothing else, that was the biggest indication that Monty was too far gone.

Ever since Chica gifted him those glasses, Monty refused to take them off unless absolutely necessary, treating them with the reverent care of a prized possession. It was the first gift he'd been given by one of the Glamrock crew upon his initiation to the band, and it marked the first time he'd started to feel like more than just Bonnie's replacement.

But now they were dirty and broken, just like the rest of him.

“Freddy! I missed ya, big guy! Where've you been all night?!” Monty asked, his grin much too wide for the simple conversation they were having. At least it seemed that Gregory hid away just in time...

Monty's tone was friendly enough, Gregory decided. There was no need to fret while inside of his safe spot. As long as he spoke in a whisper, it was unlikely that Monty would hear him through Freddy’s chest and on the other side of the safety glass.

“T-tell him you've been looking for me. That you need the access pass to get to me...,” Gregory muttered, hoping Freddy could listen and take his advice without being too obvious.

“I have been looking for the child, just as you have,” Freddy replied, twisting Gregory's words to be his own. “I... believe he may be hidden in an area I cannot reach, so I was coming to find the higher access pass.”

He offered the gator what he hoped was an evil grin, though it was more of a pained grimace. Monty simply stared at him for a second before letting out a loud, barking laugh.

“You're a shit liar, Fredbear!” he exclaimed, and Freddy automatically gasped at the lack of profanity filter. Well, so much for that ruse...

Once Monty settled, he pulled down his glasses to glare through the window, tail swishing ominously back and forth. “Y'know what I think? I think you've been helpin' the little guppy... 's that true, Freddy?”

Freddy pursed his mouth tight, eyes narrowed as he tried to figure out how to answer. Clearly, Monty already knew he was doing just that—there was no point in lying. But the gator was impossible to figure out right now... the way he was talking didn't sound like himself. Not fully. It was just off enough that Freddy found it impossible to predict what he was thinking, let alone plotting.

Nope! No way. Monty was going to eat Gregory’s bones if they went out there. The kid sucked in a sharp breath, the memory of being thrashed around in complete darkness while Monty demolished the room around them still made him shake just thinking about it. The fact that Monty cursed at Freddy made Gregory believe that the real Fazbear bassist was long gone.

“Bad idea—bad idea!” Gregory muttered to himself worriedly.

Maybe he could try flashing the camera at him from inside the room? But that might just make Monty angry, and would also take Freddy out if the bear didn’t cover his eyes quick enough.

“Aw, man, they said you'd be difficult...” Monty gave a dramatic sigh when Freddy failed to respond to his question, then crossed his arms in front of him with a smirk. “You always act so sweet, but you're just as damn stubborn as the rest of us!”

“'They...?'“ Freddy echoed, his eyes narrowing. He took a hesitant step forward, still safe in the confines of the office but trying his best to appeal to the gator. “Monty, this is not you—you would never hurt a child!”

“But that's alright...” The gator continued, completely ignoring Freddy's plea. He let out a low, disturbing laugh, locking gazes with the bear. “I'm gonna get that kid first—I've got a plan. Unlike some stupid WOLF—” He snarled the word, jaw snapping in annoyance. His friendly, competitive nature with Roxy was amped up to dangerous levels by the virus. “—who chases things down and uses up all her energy, gators wait for their prey to come to them.”

His eyes widened excitedly behind his glasses, tail swishing every which way.

“If you want that access card, the kid's gotta come find me!” Monty instructed. “I was even nice enough to give y'all a hint—check the pass you do have.” Then he suddenly turned away, only to call over his shoulder: “See y'all real soon! HAHAHAHA!” 

And with that he ran towards the main golf course, off to wait in ambush for Gregory's arrival.

***

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[farfromstrange]

Foreigner's God | m.m

Matt Murdock x avenger!OFC

Chapter twenty-eight: Look What You Made Me Do

Reader part XXVII here ° series masterlist

Summary: Eliza finds her father after almost twenty years and takes a trip down memory lane

Warnings: None, really, just angst once again (and no Matt), and some sexual harassment at the end

a/n: She has entered her reputation era. This is all plot, no Matt, I'm sorry. But also not, the story has to survive somehow.

“Forgive me father, for I have sinned.”

The man got out of his orange pickup truck. The night was dark and the air slightly colder, even for a summer night. It was the fault of global warming, no doubt. The drastic temperature changes varied from day to day and you could never be prepared. 

He held two bags of groceries in his hands, the plastic crinkling around his fingers. His knuckles turned white. He balanced one of the bags on his hip, reaching for the key in his pocket with his free hand. He struggled to get the key in the lock, but he managed to do it without dropping anything in the end. 

“I have never been to confession before so I will make this quick.”

“It’s not that hard. I’m just going to ask you: What do you need to ask forgiveness for, child? And then you answer with whatever’s on your mind,” the priest said on the opposite side of the confessional booth. 

The man dropped his keys in the bowl next to the door, kicking it close with his heel. 

“Okay, well… I didn’t come here for guidance or to seek penance. I’m not asking forgiveness for something that I have done, father, I’m asking forgiveness for something that I am about to do. I want God to know that I’m doing this for good reason and ask him to forgive me for the things I’m going to do once I am out of this church.” 

“That’s not- you know that’s not how this works, right?”

“Does it matter? I just need to hear that he will forgive me,” she said.

“God is complex, but whatever you’re going to do, if you come back and confess then, I am sure he will forgive you for whatever it is you’re about to do. But you can’t ask forgiveness for something you are about to do, that’s not how this works.”

But the door to the had already shut again, and her footsteps disappeared into the distance.

“Ah, why do I even bother? You guys do what you want anyway.” 

He placed his bags down on the couch. The apartment was small, barely even an apartment, but it worked. 

“You are a tough man to find,” the voice broke out of the dark. 

The light on his desk flicked on, revealing the female sitting behind it. 

“You know, I thought you were dead, but you look pretty alive for a dead man.”

She had a gun in front of her on the table. He couldn’t tell if it was loaded or if the safety was off, but it was a real gun. 

“Oh no, it’s loaded,” she said. “And the safety’s off. I could just pick it up, point it at you, and then you’d be dead.” She leaned forward on her elbows. “So, what do you say? Are you ready to talk, dad? Or do I need to shoot the answers out of your pretty little head?” 

To be fair, Eliza hadn’t planned for this to happen, not from the beginning, at least. The thought first came to mind shortly after her friends told her the truth. She didn’t consider it further until the situation with Matt escalated and she realized that, if she wanted to keep him safe, she needed to do something. She needed to break his heart to save his life. Only like this, she actually had a shot at winning.

She wasn’t stupid, she knew how reckless it was and that this could go as wrong as it could go right. She had thought about it, she had weighed her options and this was the only way to keep everyone who mattered alive. She was the one thing Hydra wanted most, she was the epicenter, and to stop them, she had to eradicate herself. So if she had to die to stop the organization from tearing the world and her city and friends apart, she would gladly do so in a heartbeat.

Her father still kept staring straight ahead at the young woman he had last seen two decades ago. 

“You remember me, right? The daughter you gave away? The daughter you gave into the hands of crazy scientists? That one?” she asked. 

“Alina,” he breathed out.

She clapped her hands together. “He remembers!”

“Of course, I do. I was wondering when you’d finally show up,” he said. “How did you find me?”

“A friend,” she said.

“Ah, have your little superhero friends been watching me?”

“You know,” she got up, ignoring the question altogether, “Your play at the Larson Inc. gala was incredible, I have to give you that. I’m impressed. I didn’t see that coming.”

“You figured it out?”

“Of course, I did. You weren’t exactly subtle.”

“It helped, didn’t it?”

She shrugged. “More or less. I could have done it myself though.”

“And attract all the attention?” He scoffed, “That would have been counterproductive.”

She saw the resemblance. She had his eyes, not her mother’s, and their noses matched. She had her mother’s hair, not his, but if you asked someone if the two were related, they would have agreed. He changed from the original picture, got older, and grayer and his hair started falling out. Still, even after decades, the feeling of familiarity filled her at the sight of him, and she hated that. 

“Well, I suppose you’re right. Looked like you’ve done this before,” she said.

He sighed, taking his coat off and dropping it on the pathetic excuse of a couch. “I’ve been around, Alina. I’m sure you know that by now.”

“Was that your plan all along? To play me for years and then just let it escalate?”

“Let it escalate? No, Hydra did that, not me. This would have happened sooner or later. You can’t be restrained forever. Stark realized that too late and he screwed up, but deep down I’ve always known this day would come.”

He didn’t seem bothered by her presence or the gun at all. He was a cold bastard, perhaps even a bit smug. Another thing that reminded her of the person she saw staring back at her every day in the mirror.

“I have recently learned about my true parentage,” she said, changing the subject once again. “About what happened to my mother and why she died. About what’s running through my veins right now, the precious thing everybody suddenly wants. You can imagine how surprised I was to find out that you gave me to Hydra voluntarily.”

He chuckled. “Did you just come here to blame me for the past?”

“Yes and no.” She circled the table. “Learning that you were alive was the straw that broke the camel’s back. You’ve been spending a lot of time in the States, haven’t you? Always on the run, always trying to evade Hydra. Tell me, how did it feel to give your daughter to them? Did you feel any regret at all?” 

“I regret what I’ve done every day of my life,” he said. 

“Why didn’t you tell them the truth about me?”

“Because I knew once they did, you’d be off even worse than with me.”

“I was already off worse than living with you.”

“You were a child with powers I couldn’t control. I didn’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice!” she bellowed. 

Her father shook his head, “No, not with this.” 

“Liar. First, you give me away and don’t tell them the truth about me, let them experiment and shape me into something that I am not, and then, the second they get to you, you snitch on me.” She scoffed. “That’s pathetic. God!” Her hand hit the tabletop hard. “Did they make you suffer, at least? When they got to you, did they make you suffer?” 

“They were trying to get to you because they saw what you were capable of once you joined SHIELD and then the Avengers, and they figured I lied to them, so they found me to get you back. I gave you to them to protect you. I never thought any of this would happen to you or- or other children like you,” he said. “I didn’t know what they would do. If I had, I would have taken you and run.” 

“You said you didn't tell them about me to protect me back then, but as soon as they as much as threaten you, you're suddenly more than eager to rat me out. You gave me away all over again. Is that just what you do to the people you supposedly care about or is that neglecting behavior just directed at me?” 

“Alina, you don’t get it. They tortured me-“

“SO WAS I!” 

He flinched. 

“I was tortured too and you didn’t even care. So yeah, I get it. I get what it’s like to be tortured by Hydra,” she cried out, “probably much better than you.”

“I’m sorry…” 

“You just left me there like I meant nothing to you, nothing at all.” Her nostrils flared. “What kind of father does that to his own daughter?”

“The kind that is desperate,” he said. “Look, you had powers neither you nor I could control. I heard about this program for peculiar children like you and I thought they could help you. I thought they could offer you a life that was made for you, not a human life with no outlet for your powers.”

Eliza scoffed. “You didn’t think to read into it, like, at all? You just took it?”

“I was alone! Your mother died and I was alone. I had no other choice, believe me.”

“I used to believe that’s true, too. But a man I know and cherish has proven to me that there is always a choice,” she said, “and you chose to give me away without checking where you were giving me to. You are a coward, Anton. Not even after I got out you could find it in yourself to find me.”

“You were safer without me,” he murmured. 

“I‘ve never been safe. You made sure of that.”

“Alina, please.” He made the mistake of stepping forward.

Eliza reached behind herself, took the gun, and pointed it straight at him. He stopped, arms raised. “My name is Eliza,” she said. “Not Alina, Eliza. I haven’t been Alina for a very long time. You made sure she would be forgotten, too. You made sure she died. I was just a number to them, nothing more. Not Alina, not Eliza, until SHIELD got me and helped me get a new name and a new life. So no, I am not your daughter and I am not Alina. My name is Eliza Bennett and I am…” her lip quivered, “I was an Avenger.” 

“My intentions were pure,” he wouldn’t stop.

The anger flowed into the hands that were on the gun. “I doubt that.”

“They were.”

“Maybe, maybe not. I can’t just blindly take your word for it,” she told him. “I’m missing many parts of this story that my file doesn’t state, and I have no memories whatsoever about my life before Hydra and partly during my time there, so I need you to show me. I need you to help me remember where I come from and then maybe I’ll let you go. You won’t have to see me again and for the love of God, fuck off out of my life too.” 

“Okay.” He lowered his hands. “If you want to sit down, I can tell you. There’s a lot that shouldn’t be spoken about with a gun pointed at my face.” 

“I said show not tell. And the gun is for safety measures because I don’t trust you, not even with a fucking goldfish.” 

“What do you want me to do?”

She tipped the gun toward the door. “You have a car,” she stated, “so let’s take a drive. How about North Carolina? I heard it’s nice there. A bit cold, but I was never really a fan of summer anyway. I guess that happens when you spend part of your life here and then move back to Russia just to be moved away again.” 

It slowly dawned on him. His body tensed. She had him right where she wanted him, with no wits and no confidence, just him trapped in her spiderweb. “North Carolina is a nine-hour drive,” he argued. 

“You better hit the gas then.” 

“I can tell you everything here. We could drink some tea and then-“

“Tea?” She laughed out loud, high and bitter. “You want to have tea with me? Are you fucking serious? Oh, my God. The audacity!” 

The gun waved dangerously close to his face now. 

“No, no tea. We won’t just talk this out like we just fought over Thanksgiving dinner. This is about a life that was taken from me and I deserve answers that just talking won’t give me.”

“I know, but we don’t need to head back to… It’s not a good idea. The house is gone, they burned it down, and there is nothing there but the empty ground.”

“Cool, you can show me around there then. I have a very vivid imagination.” 

“Alina.”

“Eliza,” she corrected. 

He didn’t have a choice. Either he followed or she would shoot him, and that was not a choice he wanted to make.

He let out a shaky breath. “Okay, I suppose we can take a trip down memory lane,” he caved.

“Good, it wasn’t a question anyway.”

“Can you at least put the gun down now?” He reached for his keys. “I’m already doing what you want.”

“No, I’m keeping it right here, in my hand so I can make sure you don’t drive us off the road.”

Her smile was sour.

She guided him out the door and toward his pick-up. He unlocked it with shaky hands, sliding into the driver’s seat. She locked it and moved to the opposite side

He looked at her expectantly. “Drive,” she said.

He put the key into the ignition. “Okay, okay, I’m driving.”

“No games.”

“No games, I promise.”

She leaned back in her seat. The motor roared as he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road. The sky was still pitch-black, with only a few stars to be seen, but due to the many lights illuminating New York, there was not much freedom for the sky to open up and show its true colors. 

Eliza remembered the intimate moment with Matt as they lay underneath the night sky, pointing out constellations. He had been so happy then, being able to see again, being able to appreciate the beauty of the world in a flower field, without his senses being heightened and his eyes working like they did when he was a child. He had sounded so content, so relieved, and she had loved every minute of it. He deserved it, he deserved a break. She realized that he would never be able to have that as long as she was still around. The truth hurt, but it was the truth nonetheless. 

“I didn’t mean to give you away,” Anton broke the silence. She had the gun in her lap but he suddenly seemed as calm as ever in the small space of his truck. 

She scoffed, eyes still directed at the sky out of the passenger window. “If you didn’t mean to, why did you do it?” she asked. 

“The accident your mother got into, the one where the, uh, you know, the stone went into her body, it changed everything. We weren’t sure what it was about to do to you. We thought it would kill you before you were even born, but then nothing happened and you kept growing like any other fetus. Your mom felt good. The pregnancy went over easily, with no complications. She was well until we found out that she wasn’t,” he said. “She experienced symptoms, sickness, and dizziness at first, and we blamed it on the pregnancy, but the more we researched the red liquid we found, the more we realized that it wasn’t from here.”

“How did you even get the stone in the first place?”

“Well, we were scientists, researching foreign matter was kind of in our job description. Our job back at the lab was to analyze human DNA, find new ways to manipulate and shape it, and perhaps even go as far as figuring out the secret to cloning. But we were so far away from that, decades at least. Your mom had her theories and she wanted to be published one day, so we went with her approach, but her plan was set out for years not just months and we were just at the beginning of the research stage when we moved here."

Eliza raised her eyebrows. "Cloning, seriously?" She scoffed. "If I hadn't seen a computer program come to live in an actual physical body with the help of another infinity stone, I would call you crazy."

"What Stark managed," Anton said, "With the Vision, I mean, that was incredible."

"Yeah, but not the point." Her finger ghosted over the trigger.

He swallowed. "You are right. Not the point. Your mom and I worked for a renowned lab in North Carolina that paid us well. They set us up nicely, so we built a house because if we were going to stay around, we at least wanted to build a family."

"So I was wanted?" she questioned.

"Of course, you were." He chuckled softly. "Why would you ever think otherwise?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Accidents happen every day, and your job sounds very demanding."

"It was, but we were doing good things... you know, if we had been able to spend more time on our work, we could have found a cure for cancer along the way. DNA is a funny thing, and so is the human body. We had a lot of theories, your mother and I, and we wanted to hand our knowledge down to someone. A child was our dream, not just the research lab and the funding but you. There is something great about handing your legacy down to someone, knowing your work is never going to die."

"Except that it did die," Eliza interrupted him. The words came without emotional context, just a nonchalant series of letters in a row.

He turned his head to her, the grief heavy in his eyes. She tuned his soul out, she tuned everything out. She didn't want to be betrayed by his colors. He didn't deserve her pity, he didn't deserve the strain it took her to feel for him. He was the reason she even found herself in this stupid position in the first place and he deserved to suffer for it more than she did, even. She might have been the epicenter of Hydra's desperate attempts to gain absolute power, but he was the reason Hydra even knew about her in the first place. Everything started with his inability to take care of his daughter. Everything went wrong because Anton gave her away. She was just a child and he sacrificed her. It wasn't fair and the sharp anger she felt was tightly connected with agony, an agony she couldn't shake even while pretending that emotions meant nothing to her soul but a nuisance.

Eliza unclenched her fist, the blood slowly pooling out of the crescent indentations in her palm. "The stone," she said, "How did it happen?"

"We went to this dig site in the middle of nowhere, Kentucky, in search of different DNA samples," he stated. "It’s hard to explain, I would need to show you specifically what we did for you to understand. Your mom came upon this sludgy-looking thing. It was red and it glowed, and we thought it was some sort of new element or animal, so we took it with us back to the lab. 

"It didn’t happen in the field, it happened when we tried to take it apart. The thing exploded with the biggest power surge I have ever seen, destroying the entire floor of the lab, and it hit your mother, who was about three months pregnant with you. I watched it go inside her and I still blame myself today that I couldn’t stop it, that I wasn’t smart enough not to prod at it until it got so angry, it exploded. The stone, as I later learned, the reality stone, the aether, protects itself, so when I touched that thing, it defended itself. In a human body-”

“It can tear the cells apart and kill you,” Eliza finished. “Yeah, I know. I’ve had a lecture about those stones years ago when Thor first brought it up.”

“I learned from an Asgardian too."

That caught her attention. She turned to him, eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Odin, the king of Asgard, caught wind of the aether showing up on earth after he locked it away to protect it from the Black Elves or something…”

“Dark Elves,” she corrected, her eyes wide with the new revelation.

How did she not know any of this? How did Thor not know it? Or had he been lying to her? Everyone lied to her, so that wasn’t so far off.

“Potato, pot-ah-to,” he said, “Whatever, doesn’t matter. Odin heard about what that thing did to your mother and he sent a warrior down here to take it back. They couldn’t. That’s how we found out it went into you,” he said. “We found out you absorbed the stone into your DNA and that you were going to be born with it."

“Oh, my God. Why doesn’t my file say anything about that? It just says I was born with this, nothing about Asgardians trying to take it back.”

“They wanted to take you, Alina. They wanted to take you after you were born to lock you away on Asgard, probably, or even kill you, so I made a deal. If you survived and didn't pose a threat to humanity after the first months of your life, they wouldn't take you. If you showed signs though, and they would know, they'd take you back. That was the deal. Your mother agreed to it. She had a feeling nothing bad was going to happen. I had my reservations, but I was ready to flee if the time came when you would start showing symptoms. I mean, Odin was hesitant to agree, but in the end, you were just a baby and he couldn't just take a baby away from her parents, that would have been against Asgard's moral code."

Her mouth opened and closed like a fish on dry land. She didn’t know what to say. Her life seemed like a dream and she was just floating in the vastness of space.

She looked down at her hands, toying with the chipped metal of the gun. “Why did you give me away then?” she asked quietly. “Why give me to Hydra and not let Asgard take me after I started experiencing symptoms? You knew how dangerous that stone is.”

He sighed. “I was desperate. The first time you experienced symptoms, I tried to keep you hidden as much as possible. It worked for a while until eventually, your powers became too strong and Asgard was ready to intervene. I had to hold up my end of the bargain, but I couldn't... I knew they had to eliminate you, so I chose to run back to Russia instead. It was stupid, I know," he said, "and I will never forgive myself for choosing some random program I found online for powered individuals over people who actually understood what you were going through. I just thought they were going to hurt you and Hydra's program seemed like it would help you instead of taking you away. I thought you'd learn how to control yourself and then eventually come back to me when you were old enough to understand."

"But I never came back."

"You escaped before you even hit eighteen and I am sorry for realizing so late that what they were doing was worse than what would have waited for you on Asgard. I was just scared, I... I didn't want to lose my daughter. I wanted you to learn how to be yourself, not be torn from the world you were born into. You aren't an alien."

All of these arguments and yet she couldn't find a bone inside of her that was willing to forgive him. His words made sense, they even spiraled around the part of her brain responsible for rationality, but anger had long started making her conscience unviable. Rationality was a myth, only red-hot anger clouded her senses and drove her closer to the edge of the cliff.

"Once I figured out what they did, you were already gone and they had taken me instead," he said. "They took me to find you. I couldn’t…” he swallowed the thick lump in his throat.

Judging by the conflicting colors and the regret she smelled, he truly regretted it. She slowly lost composure. She couldn't believe him, she wouldn't allow herself to. She wasn't weak, she wouldn't let this man fool her after tearing her life apart and leaving her in hell where the biggest part of her died. Alina died, Eliza simply existed to conceal the corpse and give her some kind of identity while the real her kept on burning at the pyre. There was no recovering from that, no finding herself after something like that. No answer in the world could get her the life back she so desperately craved.

Anton's knuckles turned white around the steering wheel. “They tortured me and I told them about the stone. I didn’t mean to, it just happened. And once I did, once they started to hunt for you, I got out. I got out right after the events in Sokovia when Hydra took a hit and I ran to Tony Stark. I ran as fast as I could and I told him to protect you with all he had. If you found out, if Hydra found out, all of my attempts to salvage what I had broken would have been for nothing. I should have known you were going to figure this out eventually. I was foolish to believe any differently."

Eliza nodded slowly, her lips pursed. “So you came when you figured out what I was about to do,” she said, concluding his words because she knew; she knew what he meant. “You figured out I was going to try and stop Hydra and so you came back. I started salvaging what you broke again. I started asking the wrong questions to the right people to fix what you broke and you thought, this is the best time to come back and wreak havoc on her life again." She punctuated every word with even more force than the last. She didn't raise her voice, though she didn't have to. He got a clear picture of how she felt just from the way she said those words. His skin was covered in goosebumps when she was finished, the blame hanging between them and over his head like the blade of a guillotine. He was only waiting for her to let it fall and chop his head off.

“I didn’t just come back,” he told her. “I’ve been here for years, watching you, making sure you were okay. I stayed because I haven’t before and I regret that. I tried to make up for it. I mean it when I say I won’t ever forgive myself for what I did, for what happened to you, and I… I’m so sorry."

Sorry meant nothing to her.

"I'm so incredibly sorry, Alina, and I’d understand if after this, after you got the answers you want, you kill me. That’s okay. I deserve it.”

She didn’t answer for a moment. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet and distant, almost dangerously at ease. “You want to know what it feels like after you’ve been brainwashed by Hydra over and over again, experimented on and used to kill people, and even paraded like a rare zoo animal? Touched by men who were supposed to protect you, used for their enjoyment? Watching yourself kill people from the outside as your mind does what you were told to do over and over again, and when you question it, they punish you?” She looked out of the window again. “It’s nothing compared to what you’ve been through, I assure you. It can’t be. The White Room was even worse than hell.”

His fists clenched around the steering wheel once more.  

“There’s always that emptiness that drags your chest down to your knees, swallowing your heart whole with jaws you never knew were there,” she said. “And now I am stuck in some stupid place in the in-between. An idiotic middle space of perpetual circular motion where everything happens all at once yet nothing is happening at all.”

“I’m sorry,” was all he could say. There were no words to describe what he felt, she couldn’t put a finger on it even if she tried, and neither could he. 

She felt anger and despair, but somehow she simply fell into it, not letting the pain enrage her but rather allowing it to consume her and wrap her in cotton. She was tired, oh so tired of life, and she wanted out. She wanted to escape this stupid middle space, yet not strong enough to fight for it. 

“I’m saying,” she turned back to him, “I am not going to kill you.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

“I’ve been through a lot worse by people who make you look more pathetic than you truly are. You’re not worth my tears or my anger, let alone the bullets I would use if I shot you. You’re not my father, you’re just means to an end.”

“I can accept that,” he said.

“You don’t have a choice. I can make you suffer without killing you, and that is the least you want right now. I am hardly in control of my words, you don’t want to know what it would be like if I lost control of my actions too.”

His soft chuckle filled the air. He bit his cheek. 

“What now?” she barked.

“You remind me so much of your mother.”

“Don’t talk about her. She doesn’t deserve to be dragged into this. She died for me and it’s your fault.”

“You’re a fighter, you’ve been that way since you were young. Your mother was the same. Always quick with words.”

Eliza cursed herself for falling for his attempts to get her to talk to him once again. The subject was sensitive, but she needed to know more. Her body craved closure. She was so close, only a little more and she would have everything she ever wanted. Matt’s voice in her head told her to just have faith, and she tried to trust that voice. His guidance would always be there, even when he wasn’t. 

She ran a hand over her braided hair, pushing the baby hairs back. The car wasn’t static, yet they stood at full attention. 

“I look like her,” she whispered.

“You do,” he said. “You always have and it sometimes made it hard to look at you back then, but now… I am so glad I got to see your face because she is in you. You are your mother.” 

“Stop, please. I can’t do this now.”

“You deserve to know.”

“I deserved to get to know her and you took that away by playing with forces you didn’t understand.”

“We both made that choice. That’s not fair.”

“I have every right to say these things to you and make assumptions,” she snapped. “You took all of my rights when you gave me away and now I am simply taking them back. It’s your fault she’s dead, and mine too. We’re both to blame.”

“You’re not to blame, Alina.”

She slapped her hands against her face, palms pressed into her eye sockets. She groaned. “Stop calling me that!”

“It’s your name.”

“I told you, my name is Eliza.”

“Not to me, you’re not. You will always be my daughter, and my daughter’s name is Alina.”

“Well, then I am not your daughter.”

“I named you after your great-grandmother…”

This was going to be a long nine-hour drive.

Anton went on and on about the history behind her name, how his father fought in World War Two and how his grandmother raised him after his mother died of an infection she sustained from working in an old factory. The last name came from his family, too, because apparently, that is Russian tradition. Her second name, Isolde, came from her mother’s mother because she died too, but because she was murdered (which honestly shocked her a little at just how fast the story changed course) and her mother loved her so much, she gave her daughter the same name. 

They were about four hours in, only five more to go, and as her father went on an extremely long tangent about his father (the war hero) just so he wouldn’t have to talk about Eliza’s life after she was born, she wished she had never gotten into this car in the first place. Or she could have knocked him out and driven herself. Anything but what she had to endure right now.

Eventually, he rolled his shoulders and said, “I need to pee.”

That made her want to put the gun to her temple. Was she this awful too whenever she rambled and thought she was smarter than anyone else? If so, she was going to stop right then and there and never complain again.

“You are so fucking annoying,” she groaned into her hands once again. 

“I just need to pee,” he said.

“Hold it.”

“Hold it? I can’t hold it.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Okay,” she took the gun back into her hand, “Pull over. You can pee and then we move on.” 

He sighed in relief as he pulled over, got out, and relieved himself in the bushes. She stood behind him, looking anywhere but his back, with her gun pointed at him.

“I’m not going to run, you know. You can put the gun away.”

“I told you, I’m not taking any chances.”

“The gun is unsettling. I can’t drive like this.”

“Well, then you better focus a little more on the road and a little less on talking. Hm, how does that sound?”

He rolled his eyes. They got back into the car and for the next three hours, thank God, the car was quiet. Questions swirled around in her head, but she couldn’t find the words to ask them. She would get her answers soon, only two more hours, she told herself. Almost there.

“Alina,” he said, ruining the comfortable silence.

She threw her head back in her seat. “What?” she asked through gritted teeth. She had grown tired of correcting him about thirty Alina’s ago.  

“Do you remember anything about your childhood? Anything at all?” 

“Would I be asking you to drive to fucking North Carolina if I did?” Her elbow leaned against the window, her head supported by her fist. 

He nodded slowly. “Well, you had this bike…”

They drove down an abandoned street in an industrial district, as it seemed. She looked around more carefully. 

The bike. “I remember the bike,” it dawned on her. The vision she had after the explosion at her apartment. The pieces slowly fell into place along with the many nightmares she had that didn’t fit into the Hydra narrative. 

“You wanted to learn how to ride that thing so desperately, so I put you on it, but you were way too small. You cried until I made it possible for you to sit on it and then I taught you how to ride a bike.”

“I fell,” she recalled. “I fell and hurt my knee, but I found a butterfly. I told you to fix it for me.”

He chuckled almost endearingly at the memory. “And then we went home and helped the little butterfly,” he said. 

“He survived?” 

“He did!”

The car slowed down. Leaves flew over the ground with the flow of the wind. The parameter was void of people, only a run-down building in the middle of nowhere. Not nowhere, exactly, but far enough away from other factories that no one cared about it. 

“Is this…” she looked at him, “Is this the lab?”

“Used to be,” he said. 

Eliza unfastened her seatbelt and got out. She tore his door open, the gun tucked into the back of her pants. “Make a wrong move and you’ll regret it,” she warned.

He nodded, glad she had put the weapon down, but weary of the familiar place he had taken them to. He had his reservations as he got out, passing by her and toward the building. 

“I think the structure is a little unstable,” he muttered. 

“I don’t care.”

“Alina, just wait a minute.” He pulled her back by her coat. “Have you thought this through?”

“No,” she pouted, “But if someone comes and tries to kill us, I will sacrifice you first. Unstable structures have never bothered me before. Now let’s go or I will take the gun back out.”

He hesitated. She cocked her eyebrows. Her hand disappeared into her coat, brushing over the cold metal of her gun. He lifted his arms. “Okay,” he said. “Okay, let’s go.”

“Move.”

“You are so bossy. Who raised you?”

“Who didn’t?”

He bit his lip. “Okay, fair point.”

The door easily opened, the lock not displaying a serious hurdle. One pull and the chain fell off, and Anton opened the glass double doors – the glass wasn’t broken, surprisingly, but it had turned slightly brown and milky over the years, and covered in dust and ashes. 

She watched as he stopped, taking a look around the gigantic entrance hall. It had been so modern and clean once, now it was grown over with poison ivy and smelled of death. 

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” she said. She stood next to him with her hands in her pockets. “Being reminded of the life you once lived?” 

“It’s certainly not pleasant,” he said. 

“This is torture of your own making. You better accept that and stop sulking about it. I’m not here for nostalgia.”

“I just… the last time I was here I was so… so happy. Before everything happened, your mom and I had the best job here. I quickly grew accustomed to American life, that’s why my English and my accent are so good, you know? And your mother wanted you to learn Russian too so that both cultures would be implemented in your life.” His chest heaved with the most heartbreaking sigh. “She never got the chance to.” 

“Did you raise me bilingual?” Eliza questioned. “Before we left here, did you raise me as mom wanted?”

Calling her mom came almost naturally. She had always wanted a mother. She never had any females to look up to until she met Natasha and she took her in, and then there was Maria Hill who also looked after her. Men had been in her life since the day she was born, and most of them dictated her life and so she had grown weary of them. A few years at SHIELD managed to ease her trust issues, but not enough for her walls to falter. Now they were back up again, all the way, and there was no breaking through it.

A weird feeling spread through her stomach. Familiarity, recognition, homeliness… her mind seemed to want to remember, but the drawers were shut. 

She missed her mother. The inner child wanted her back, and she screamed louder than ever. 

Anton took a few steps forward, some broken glass scrunching under his boot. He checked. There were blood splatters on the floor. “I tried to,” he said. 

“Tried to?”

“I did my best, but we didn’t have much time together before I gave you away. You were five, I think.”

“Five years,” she repeated. “Five years with you and I remember none of it.”

“I tried to be a good father, but the older you got the harder it became to control you. You don��t remember because it didn’t happen consciously. The stone just started to show its true colors and I wanted to help you control it, if not get rid of it altogether.”

Eliza squeezed her eyes shut. Nothing. “I don’t remember,” she said. 

“I’m sorry, I wish I could make you remember somehow, but I can’t.”

“Where’s the lab? The one you and mom worked in? The one where it happened?”

“Upstairs, third floor to the left.”

She took another look around before heading for the stairs. “What happened here?” she dared to ask. There were signs of something much worse than just abandonment of the building. 

Anton sighed, “Hydra did.”

“Jesus.” She shook her head. 

He passed by her, taking the lead as he walked them up the stairway. The dust turned their shoes into socks, making the metal of the stairs so much more slippery. The railing was covered in some sort of goo though so neither of them wanted to touch it. 

On the last step, he hesitated. She sensed that the memories hit him hard. Unlike her, he had been there and he had been lucid, not a fetus in a uterus. He saw everything firsthand, experienced what happened with his entire body, and from there on he had to watch his wife fade away. 

She almost felt sorry for him. Then she remembered what he had done and why she even spent nine hours in the car with him to drive her to North Carolina and she felt a little less sorry.

The hallway was covered in ashes and broken debris. Smoke had tinted the walls black, the fire had destroyed most of it. At least it looked like the aftermath of a severe burn. Vines decorated the corners and dead animals laid in their way. 

Eliza stepped over them, careful not to dip her foot into the dried blood either or the mold that wetness from the outside had caused to infect the entire building. The way Anton was going, the destruction became worse, and she had to stop herself from gagging at the horrendous smell. They stepped through a plastic wrap that protected the door. The cold wind moved it aside; the windows inside were broken, the glass disappeared altogether, and everything else was destroyed too. The explosion had hit the place hard, though one table remained in the middle of the room, set in stone on the ground. Nothing could sway it.

Her eyes widened. She took a look around. The entire place was one big wreckage. No wonder it shut down. Someone seemed to have tried to repair it, but they never got to finish before the place shut down for unknown reasons. The ladder they used to try and repaint the walls still stood there, the plastic wrap from the windows lying on the ground next to a bucket full of molded paint. 

“God,” she breathed out, the oxygen condensing in the air instantly. 

Anton stood with his fists balled, the blood drained from his face. “You wanted to see where it all started,” he said. “This is where.”

Eliza tapped one of the broken test tubes on the table before remembering that it could be poisonous, so she stepped away and wiped her hand on her coat. Curiosity killed the cat.

“The blast completely destroyed this floor,” she said. 

“Yeah, so you can imagine what that stone can do.”

“It’s just hard to imagine that the same thing that caused this-“ she spun around, “is inside of me and didn’t even remotely hurt me.” 

“It manifested itself into your DNA. I tried to figure it out, but I couldn’t. I didn’t have the means after you were born. And I didn’t want to bring you to the doctors either because, you know, the stone kind of qualifies as alien. Try explaining that to a doctor when he sees blood results that might make their equipment explode,” he laughed half-heartedly at his joke. 

“Why did Hydra never figure it out? They ran several tests, a lot of which involved getting my blood.” 

“Honestly? I have no idea. I guess the reality stone is not something you have the energy signature on file of.”

“But you did?”

“Well, I had to check on your mother somehow. I took her blood regularly.”

She walked around the table slowly. “You know,” she said to him, “I’ve never expected my blood to become a rarity that everyone wants. I would be honored if it were one of those rare blood types without a Rhesus factor, but this? I don’t like this.”

“Neither do I,” said Anton.

“You brought me into this mess, don’t act so surprised…” she stopped mid-tangent. On her left, she could make out the faint outline of a picture, though the dust-covered up most of it. She wiped over it. Her nose tickled and she sneezed, which caused even more dust to fly off the picture - a Polaroid - and reveal the content entirely. “Oh.” Her eyes watered.

The picture displayed her mother and her father, smiling into the camera. Just the two of them, no one else. They smiled and they looked happy. Her mother was so young and he was too, and they were just a happy little family with a baby on the way – a baby that would kill Guinevere eventually, and she didn’t even know it. Or maybe she did, maybe she’d had a feeling. Eliza knew the feeling of doom all too well, maybe her mother had felt that too right before she was born. She knew about the stone, and she probably figured she wouldn’t make it out of this, but not everyone goes through life seeing inevitable death in everything that happens.

She closed her eyes. The picture could help her remember, it could help her stretch the itching power swirling around in her chest out and recreate the world around her like a vivid memory. She knew she could do it. The thought suddenly popped into her mind, causing her chest to constrict and her blood to run cold. A stabbing pain seated through her heart, traveling up to her head, through her brain, and into her eye sockets. She felt full of something, she couldn’t determine what. It was there and it was strong, and it seemed to tear her apart from the inside.

If it had been depression, a panic attack, or even a mental breakdown she would have known. 

Anton called her name, “Alina.”

She braced herself against the table, holding the picture to her heart. The burning sensation grew tenfold. “Just let me remember,” she whispered. 

Her eyes flew open like on command. The pain disappeared. The red curtain drew close around them, turning invisible as the reality behind it turned into actual reality. Red turned to nothing and soon she stood in a lab that hadn’t been destroyed by the blast of an infinity stone, white and sterile and with equipment all over the place. 

He looked up. “I’ll be damned,” he cursed under his breath. 

Eliza turned. Huh.

“How did you just do that? No, scratch that, what did you just do?” 

She lifted her hand. Her body knew how to act, and she simply followed. Voices came in through the hallway, both familiar but in different ways. 

“Come on, I have something to show you!” the woman almost squealed as she jumped through the open door. Behind her, she dragged a man into the lab. 

Anton, her father, and the woman her mother. 

She stood at the table, holding the picture Eliza found. She looked at it the same time her mother did. 

“I know it’s not a onesie or whatever parents these days use to make announcements, but I thought this was nice too.”

Anton chuckled a little. “What is this?” he asked.

“Turn it around and you’ll know.” 

He looked at the picture of his wife and him, then turned the Polaroid around. Eliza did the same. She read the perfectly written, cursive letters. 

Mom & Dad to be. 

“Is this…” he met her eyes. “Are you…”

She nodded. “I am.”

“Oh my-“ he lifted her with the biggest grin she had ever seen anybody carry and spun her around. He laughed, “this is amazing!”

“Thank God, I was afraid you might not be on board with this,” she said, still giggling from her husband’s delighted reaction. 

He traced a loose strand of hair behind her ear. They looked so in love it was almost sickening. 

“Not on board?” he questioned. “Darling, I’ve never been happier. I’m going to be a dad?”

She squealed, “You are!”

“We’re having a baby!”

“Technically, I am,” she said, “but I don’t want to ruin your excitement with biology and how this terminology is annoying to all the women in existence who wish to carry a child and do so because men do nothing but provide the sperm to the egg and they don’t even have to give birth.” 

He only laughed more, lifting her again in a bone-crushing hug. “Oh, I love you so much, Gwen. You have no idea.” 

“Oh, I do. I have a faint idea just how much you love me. I mean,” she placed a hand on her belly, “I’m carrying the proof of your devotion inside of me right now.”

He kissed her passionately. “We’re going to be parents!”

“Don’t be so loud, I want to pass the twelve-week mark before we tell people.”

“Three months? That’s gonna be a long wait.”

“Keep it together, baby, because we are going to have this baby, but I don’t want to jinx it, so you better behave.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He saluted before hugging her again, and they had never been happier than the day Guinevere announced that she was pregnant with the child that would grow up to be Eliza (or Alina, anyway).

Eliza watched the scene unfold with teary eyes. “That’s not my memory, is it?” she asked.

Anton behind her fought with tears himself. “No,” he whispered, “it’s mine.”

She wasn’t sure how that worked, but she didn’t complain. She could see things much clearer now.

What happened next knocked the air out of her lungs. The world flashed forward to the day the two scientists brought the aether back into the lab, draped in a cannula. It moved like a slug. She had seen it before in one of her dreams. The one with the little girl who pressured the red to flow into her. 

Every dream she ever had was just a series of memories and the reality of her existence, and she had never even considered that it was possible. She didn’t piece the puzzle together even though it was right in front of her. 

“Anton, what did we just find?” Guinevere asked her husband. They stared at the red slug moving before them. “It’s not an animal and it’s not a gray matter, what is it?”

“I don’t know, I’m just going to analyze the energy structure and then we’ll know more,” he said. 

Eliza didn’t understand much about science. He ran a scanner over the cannula, the signature running straight into his computer. Whatever program he used wasn’t strong enough to recognize the aether. He even attached cables to the glass confines. Hours went by, if not days until the team was finally sick of waiting around and not getting anywhere.

“How about we open it?” Guinevere suggested. She wasn’t showing, but you could tell she was pregnant by the glow on her face and the hand on her stomach. 

Anton shook his head. “What if it’s a dangerous disease or something? We can’t risk that, especially not with the baby.”

“I’ll just step out then.”

“No, no, we’ll figure it out some other way.”

“How can we analyze it without analyzing it?”

Eliza’s jaw dropped. “It wasn’t your idea?” she asked.

Anton stood as stiff as a piece of wood. “No,” he choked out.

What the fuck?

“I did not see that coming.”

Another day passed by until he finally had enough. Guinevere demanded to stay, but she held her shirt over her mouth in case the slug was contagious. Anton used gloves, but that seemed useless after what happened. 

He sighed, “I’m gonna open it.”

Eliza jumped forward, reaching her hand out, but it went straight through. “DO NOT-“ 

Boom.

The glass exploded as soon as he touched the aether. Red light erupted, windows got knocked out, equipment flew around and on top of it all, Guinevere was sent back with a hard push and straight into the wall, denting it. Anton flew in the other direction, hitting the shelf and thudding to the floor. 

Like in her dreams, the stone turned into liquid, and it went through all of her facial entry points. Guinevere was pulled up as if she were a puppet on strings and her body started glowing like Eliza’s victims always did. Her veins were on fire, she was on fire. 

Eliza saw it in front of her eyes. The stone invaded her vision. It was clear as day and when she tried to touch it, the pain in her body returned, she sucked in a sharp breath, and she saw the six stones hurdle across the universe. The Big Bang happened and then nothing. 

The world went back to normal after that. No red curtain, no mother or father or ethereal explosions. 

Eliza caught herself on the table before she could fall to her knees, wheezing and crying with the picture still clutched to her chest. 

Anton was by her side in seconds. He held her up, but she pushed him away.

“I’m fine,” she said. “I’m fine.”

She hoped she was fine, at least. They hadn’t even gotten to her actual childhood yet and she was determined to stay around that long. 

She tried to straighten herself out. Nausea hit. Her entire torso felt like she had been working out for hours.

“I feel like somebody took my stomach and stuffed it with rocks,” she grunted out.

“I have no idea what just happened, but do you believe me now when I say there was a reason for why I decided to give you away?”

She met his eyes. “Yes,” she never thought she would agree to this.

Her head was red with the blood that had collected there. 

“I’m burning up.”

He placed his hand on her forehead. “Yeah, you are. Here, sit down,” he pulled out a chair for her, “there you go.” The seat was dirty, but she didn’t care, her body was on fire. 

“Thanks.”

Anton knelt in front of her. “I know your mother had the idea, but I opened that cannula, so it was my fault,” he said.

“In this case, no one is to blame,” she said. “Not even you, even though it irks me that I can’t blame you for this.”

“I’m so glad to hear that.”

“My powers weren’t your fault, but the fact that I ended up in Hydra’s hands is. Don’t think for a second you’re off the hook.” 

In defense, he raised his arms. His knees cracked a little when he rose to his full eight, extending his hand. 

“Come on, the story here was over the second that the stone exploded. You were right, you deserve answers, and I want to give them to you.”

“Where do you think we’re going?” She eyed him suspiciously. “You do realize you’re not in charge here, right?”

“I’m the driver,” he stated.

“Yeah, and I’m the one with the gun,” she retorted. 

He pouted. “You make very convincing points.”

“I know. Now, where do you think we’re going? What’s your plan?”

“Home.”

Home. 

Eliza cocked her head to the side. Her temples pulsated with whatever had just happened, but she was quick to recover. She had yet to explode. As long as she kept everything bottled up, she could do this. The truth about her powers was out there, she simply saw it happen with her own two eyes.

The volcano was just waiting to erupt and when it did, she could guarantee nothing. 

She didn’t take his hand. She stood on wobbly legs, straightening her shoulders and she walked past him. 

“You better not run,” she said. 

He trailed after her like a dog. 

“I won’t.”

“Can’t trust you, won’t trust you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

For a moment, her mind wandered off. She wondered what her friends were doing. Knowing them, the letter barely did anything other than make them cry, and they were at Fogwell’s now, trying to figure out where she went. She knew the second she left that they wouldn’t listen to her, yet she bought herself time by throwing them off their game. 

She was sure she had caused a fight between Natasha and Matt, knowing both of them well enough to figure Matt lashed out at Natasha and she took all the blame on herself even though she hadn’t made the decision. Eliza would have figured it out on her own sooner or later. Somehow though she believed they made up in the end and chose to work together. When it came to the people they loved, they would do just about anything, and they probably bonded over that. No, she was pretty sure they did. None of them would let her disappearance slide like that, it wasn’t in their nature.

Eliza was smart though. She concealed her steps better than Pandora’s box. There was no getting behind it, not even Matt could find her. North Carolina exceeded his hearing range, and she hadn’t left anything behind that would suggest her whereabouts. By the time they figured out where she went and who she took with her, she would already be gone. And that was something she was more than sure of, surer than of the fact that Matt was going crazy and barely holding on. 

She had to continuously tell herself that he was better off without her. If she didn't, she would take the steering wheel and turn around to drive back to New York in a heartbeat.

He deserved to be happy and she couldn’t give him that, she would only cause more pain in the long run and he was too good for that. He was too good for her. She wasn’t made for this life, for love or relationships. Hell, she was surprised she even made it this far. She saw herself almost die many times before. She survived. She never thought she would make it to twenty-three and still pretty much alive. But there always comes a time when all good must end, and her life up to that point had been far from good. 

Sometimes you have to draw the line, and this was it for her. This was the line she drew, and she made peace with that. No point in mourning a life and a world that never really wanted her anyway.

They pulled into a small suburban neighborhood. The kind of neighborhood with rose bushes, front lawns, porches, and swings on said porches. The kind of neighborhood that people thought of when talking about the American dream. Everything appeared perfect, which could only mean that the secrets ran much, much deeper than what the families living there let on.

Though when she expected them to stop, Anton drove a little further. The empty ground laid a little further away, not surrounded by many houses if any. Once again, the streets were pretty much empty. The people in this town in North Carolina didn’t seem like lively folk. 

He parked on the opposite side of the street, shutting off the engine, and then he stared. Anton stared straight ahead; for a moment, Eliza believed him dead. Then, he eased his hold on the steering wheel, unfastened his seatbelt, and looked at her.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked, or was he asking himself?

She frowned. “I asked you to bring me here,” she said, “why wouldn’t I be sure?”

“I don’t know.”

“I surely don’t have the intelligence from you then.” She unbuckled herself, opening the door rather roughly. “You’re fucking useless.”

He flinched when the door fell back in place. She stood on the street, waiting for him. He didn’t want to risk getting threatened with the gun again, so he got out. His hands shook. She could smell his fear again, feel the colors starting to cloud him, and fill herself with doubt. 

“Is this it?” she asked him.

“Yeah.”

“Why hasn’t anyone bought this site yet?"

She couldn’t remember ever having lived there. The streets seemed familiar, and she recognized the streets from the dream with her bike, but that was about it. She didn’t associate any feelings with the place. Maybe if the house had been there, it would have been easier, but the ground was empty except for a faint outline from what had been there before.

Anton sighed. “Because I’ve been paying for it not to be built over,” he said.

She snapped around. “What?”

“Yeah, I couldn’t let it go.”

“You kept the land?” 

“Yeah, I did.”

“But not the house?”

“Hydra burned it down, so I used a fake name to get rid of the remains and keep the land. Wasn’t all that hard.” 

Something held her back, perhaps her reservations about how wrong this felt. She stepped forward anyway, slowly inching closer to the land. 

“Fuck,” she groaned.

“What?” he asked.

“I can’t fucking remember anything.”

“Well…” he stepped into the outline on the dried grass. First, he moved on to the left lower quadrant. “The living room used to be here,” he stated. “Before your mother died and she was still pregnant with you, we bought a Christmas tree and we hung three stockings to the fireplace. One for your mom, one for me, and one for you. That year, we had a slightly bigger tree and I remember that it fell over and we laughed about it. We ended up ordering pizza instead of cooking and we stared at that tiny stocking at the fireplace, praying that you were going to be okay.” He sighed, “For a moment, everything was okay.”

Eliza slowly followed him. She supposed it was helping because of the familiar pain from before building up. This time though, it came on much slower and much stronger. 

Anton moved on to the left upper quadrant. “This was our bedroom,” he stated, “and opposite from that we had put up your nursery. Your mom chose olive green, but I wanted to paint your room blue, so we had one wall painted green, and the other aquamarine, and everything else in your room was freakishly colorful too. Oh, Gwen would have loved it.”

Eliza crossed her arms over her chest, forearms and hands pressed flat against her body. Her stomach churned. The world was spinning. Tears stung in her eyes and her chest heaved with heavy breaths. The headache was bad this time, worse than anything she had experienced before. 

“This used to be the bathroom and we had an attic, too. It’s where I moved your mom’s things after she passed away. I, uh, couldn’t let go of them… I realize now that by keeping them I just made things worse. They got destroyed anyway, everything swallowed by the fire. After your mother was gone, it was just the two of us in this big ass house and I mourned hard. I stayed though. I stayed until we couldn’t stay here anymore and then we left as I told you."

He turned, remembering the pictures his words had just drawn. 

“We were so happy,” he whispered, “until we weren’t and then everything just broke apart. I wish your mother could have met you. You turned out great, despite everything, and I tried, I really did. We did so many things as you grew older and we bonded. I know you don’t remember,” he said, “and I’m sorry that I can’t tell you every little detail, but… maybe you’ll remember, maybe not now or tomorrow, but I think you will eventually.”

Her lungs failed suddenly and without warning. Her knees buckled. She fell into the grass, but she couldn’t feel the grass. Her ears rang, her shoulders shook with the silent sobs that tumbled from her lips, and the tears overwhelmed her senses with the salty taste, and they mixed with sweat that ran from the sheen on her forehead. 

And just like that, the ball she had built up inside of her chest, all the emotions and the little red demon waiting to be set free, burst out of her. 

She screamed. The red light erupted from her body, expanding in the air. Every last atom was painted red around them, smoke turning into flames into flashes of light. Her cells tore each other apart and put themselves back together. It seemed as if her entire body changed suddenly, everything that had once been controlled and human got overshadowed by the inhuman surge of power that tore her soul to shreds and implanted something else entirely in the empty space. But it had been inside of her already. All of the things she felt were the side effects of what had been sleeping inside of her, what had hidden from the greedy hands of Hydra all this time, what had hidden from her out of fear of being hurt, what had waited so long to be discovered and used to its full potential, and she just let the pain flow out of her. She couldn’t have controlled it even if she tried. 

Anton watched in shock as Eliza turned into a ball of crimson. He heard her faint scream, but nothing could overshadow the sound of the world around the crumbling. Walls built up where there used to be nothing, familiar walls, walls he had just described without even the slightest detail. The house rose around him, and he stood in it, the living room of the house Eliza spent the first years of her life, and everything was where it was supposed to be.

The entire thing took a toll on his mind. She broke everything he thought to know about her. At first, it was little things, like moving things, making objects appear and disappear, or bringing small animals back to life. She had never done anything like this before. With the stone, everything was possible, and this was bound to happen. Something as powerful as this would not allow it to be bottled up for as long as it did, and Eliza had finally reached her breaking point.

This was it - this was the ‘movie’ moment she had been waiting for. 

As soon as the house stood, the red disappeared, and she crumbled in on herself. Her arms were still crossed, the Polaroid clutched in her hands. The trigger for everything that happened. The trigger that sent her over the edge.

Every cell, every living atom inside of her had changed in a matter of seconds. She opened her eyes slowly, blurry from the tears and stained from the mascara she had on. The voice in her head had gone quiet. Her body felt strange and powerful like she had just been born again. She looked down at her hands, turning and twisting them. She was still alive, that was for sure. Whatever happened completely changed her, and she should have been terrified, she thought, she should have screamed some more and hoped it had all been just a dream, but she did none of these things. 

She lifted her head to take a look around. She did that. 

Anton cowered against the wall. He could feel the texture between his fingers. Either the hallucination was tricking his senses into oblivion, or the house was actually real. 

Eliza rose to her wobbly feet. The familiar voice filled the four walls surrounding them. 

The woman rounded the corner at her usual carefree speed. She carried two boxes of paint, one green, the other blue. Her belly bulged behind the overall she wore, her hair tied up into a messy gun and white specks covered her face. For someone who had just been through hell, she looked no less hopeful than she did before. 

“Okay, so, I was thinking,” she chirped.

Eliza met her eye. The same eyes stared back at her every day in the mirror, the same.

“Mom?” she breathed out.

“Oh my, look at you. When’s the last time you slept?” 

This couldn’t be. She couldn’t be talking to her. She pointed at herself, a silent “Me?” slipping past her lips.

Guinevere seemed to be looking at her. She stepped forward, abandoning the cans of paint and reaching out to her face. 

“You know, you could have just told me it was getting bad again,” she said.

Eliza closed her eyes. She was so close she could even smell her perfume. Citrus mixed with the alcohol in the paint. She expected her mother’s hands to come and caress her face, she wished for her to do so, but the comforting touch never came. 

She stepped right through her like she didn’t exist at all. Behind her, Anton watched as his late wife approached the version of him his daughter had created in this vivid recreation of her childhood home. His sunken eyes hadn’t changed all that much. 

“We’re going to be fine, baby. I just know it.”

Except they weren’t going to be fine. Everything went to shit after that. The beautiful memory turned into emptiness and Eliza soon found herself staring at the small baby in her father’s arms as he walked around the lonely space. She grew with each passing second and time only seemed to speed up after she was born. 

Nights spent in the living room, her father playing with her on the floor. He spent days trying to teach her how to cook when she could barely walk. She must have been a happy baby. There wasn’t much life outside of her and her father in that house. It grew too big way too fast. 

It started slowly when she started walking. Objects in the house moved without a plausible reason, glass broke whenever she had a fit, and the occasional floating toys in her bedroom during a nightmare. Anton had been careful not to disturb her too much, deciding to wait it out. He never expected her powers to grow to the size they inevitably did. 

He took her blood, but there wasn’t much he could do without a lab and equipment. He refused to take her to the doctor’s so he gave her every necessary shot himself, and every time she hurt herself outside, he patched her up. Scraped knees and elbows and a cracked eyebrow after she fell off the swing, all of those injuries were normal for a child. Despite her powers, she did what every child would. Her father homeschooled her, but she seemed to be wary of other children anyway, so she didn’t mind playing on her own.

Up until the point she brought the butterfly home from her bike accident, Eliza watched a small family make the best of an awful situation. The first glimpse of the true extent of her powers appeared when the pair sat in the kitchen, crammed over the table where the butterfly lay sedated before them. Anton excused himself to get some supplies. The little girl didn’t want to wait. She gently touched the unmoving insect. 

“Babochka,” she muttered. 

The butterfly’s wings fluttered. His heart started beating again. What had been broken was easily fixed again. Her father came back to his daughter playing with the butterfly on her finger. He seemed to trust her, which was completely against his nature. Usually, he would have flown away by now, but he stayed, and she giggled as his small legs tickled her finger. 

“Look, Dad, I fixed him,” she said. 

The butterfly took off. Eliza registered he was heading for her. She caught him with her hand. 

“Was this when you realized you needed to do something about me?” she whispered. 

Anton nodded slowly. “It was the first time I considered it. The second time, I acted,” he said. 

She wrapped her other hand around the insect. He dispensed into grey dust. Her dead eyes watched as the butterfly disappeared and vanished into thin air. 

“There are so many things you could have done, yet you gave me away.”

“Alina…”

“It was just a butterfly. I know I caused destruction, but Hydra? Couldn’t you have thought about it, at least?”

“I did, but I was desperate, and you were getting worse every day. I thought this to be the right choice. I couldn’t have known they would do this to you.”

She opened her clenched fist again. The butterfly reappeared, shaking his body and the dust off his wings. “Mom wouldn’t have let this happen,” she murmured. “She would have never let you do this.”

“You don’t know that,” he said. “You weren’t a normal child, and still aren’t.”

“I’m not a child anymore.”

“I know…”

“This life,” she said and pointed at the butterfly, “is vulnerable, yet every time a butterfly dies, another one breaks out of its cocoon. Caterpillars grow wings just by curling up for a couple of months and they come out as this. It’s evolution at its finest. And yet…”

She closed her fist again.

“One wrong move and it’s crushed like an egg under my boot.”

Eliza closed her eyes. She imagined her mother, young and happy, a baby on her lap as they played with the butterflies around them on a beautiful flower field. She wore a sundress and they had matching bows in their similarly colored hair. No magic other than the comfort of each other’s presence. Anton wasn’t there, no one was there but them, and the world finally turned quiet. 

“Alina?” the soft voice called behind her. 

A tear slipped down her cheek. “God, I wish you were here,” she said. 

“I am.”

Guinevere opened her arms, but she shook her head. “You’re not, not really.”

“We could pretend,” she said, “for now.”

Before she could touch her though, the invisible wall drove a stake between them.

“You’re not real. None of this is real. It’s just a product of my imagination, it’s what I crave. It’s not real. It’s not…”

Eliza fell back to her knees as the house she built around the crumbled to pieces. The angry red oxidized and went back where it came from, into her soul. She gasped. Too much pain for such a small, broken person to bare. 

Anton reached his hand out to touch her, the grass cold under him. She slapped his hand away. The sound of footsteps grew closer. The loud rotating of chopper blades caused the leaves on the ground to travel faster over the street. The ground vibrated. They hadn’t realized how fast the world had started growing dark again with the impending nighttime. 

He raised his eyebrows, looking around himself. 

She laughed. The tears clouded her vision and yet she laughed, she laughed manically because those footsteps could only mean one thing, and that thing made her so disgustingly proud of herself and excited for a twisted reason that she never thought possible to happen again. She laughed and then she stared at him with bitterness in her eyes, letting him know that this was his doing, not her own. He caused this, so he had to suffer the consequences. She was done trying to understand someone who gave away what he claimed to love just so he wouldn’t have to deal with the burden anymore. 

She was done and she was done for good. She didn’t remember much, but she saw where she came from and part of her was content with that. The closure could barely be described as such, though the empty place in her heart that had started to swallow her whole, the thing she had talked about in therapy time and time again, the space was finally filled. If from the surge of power or the sight of her old life, she wasn’t sure, but at least she knew who she was now. She knew who she was supposed to be, supposed to become, and that made her even more ready for the showdown that was right around the corner. Only a little more and she would be where she wanted to be, where she planned to be ever since she left that letter on Matt’s bed. The endgame was hers and she would fight as if her life depended on it because, in the end, it did. 

“What did you do?” he asked her, panic written all over his face as the many masked men came closer, guns raised, and the spotlight of the chopper took over the entire abandoned street. “Alina, what did you do?”

“You are so stupid,” she wheezed. “Oh, you should have known I wasn’t going to let you get away with this. Did you think I would just forgive you?”

“You said…”

“I know what I said.” She scrambled back to a seating position. “Karma is a bitch, Anton, and you are about to get everything that you bargained for.”

He jumped up, probably to run, but the electrical current hit him before he could. The taser caused his body to stiffen and fall right back into the grass, unable to move. 

Eliza got up with her arms raised, and hands crossed behind her head. She barely paid attention to the guns pointed at her. 

“Malyhska,” the dooming voice called out for her. “You are a sight for sore eyes!”

Grabby hands tore at her, forcing her to her knees and trapping her wrists with the same cuffs Ivan had already put on her once. She knew she could easily break out of them, but she didn’t. Her face remained motionless. Other than the small smirk set in stone, there was no telling what she felt, let alone what she was thinking.

“Finally, I have found you. God,” he said, “You have grown up so much. I barely recognized you. Truly beautiful, you are.”

Eliza sneered. “You didn’t change,” she said. 

“Oh no, a man like me never changes.”

“How did you survive, Viktor?”

“A man like me can’t die.” His hand brushed her cheek, thumb tracing her cheekbone. Her eyes fluttered shut. The feeling of disgust dropped to her stomach, clawing at the sensitive skin and burning her alive from the inside out. The hold on her made it impossible to squirm away. “Surely, you knew that, or you wouldn’t have left all these hints to get back to me. That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” this time, he grabbed her chin. “You wanted to come back to me.”

She swallowed the sweet pain. “Of course.”

His attention went under her skin like the ink of a tattoo, reigniting the twisted part of her that loved him. She hated him but she also loved him. She loved him in a way no one should love anyone. He was her captor and the feelings she had came from years of manipulation, making her dependent on his touch and attention. Stockholm Syndrom, as you will. His attention had been the only thing sustaining her for a long time, and that girl who cherished each of those seconds was still in there. As much as his presence constricted her airflow and killed her inside, she couldn’t help but fall back into his trap, drawn to him in the most disgusting way possible.

“I think you were right. Once a killer, always a killer,” she said, “and I am so done being the nice girl everyone wants me to be. I’m not a good person, I’ve never been. Daredevil just made me soft. It’s time I got out of that life SHIELD forced me into.”

He nodded. “I forgive you, malyshka. Though you have to understand that there are things that we have to do that won’t be so nice.”

“You going to punish me for leaving?”

“If you put it like that, it sounds awful. No,” he pushed her bottom lip down. “I’m going to teach you a lesson, then I will take whatever I need from you, and maybe then you will have earned my respect back enough for us to try again. Do you understand that, soldier?”

The needle dug right into her aorta. She flinched. Whatever they injected her with worked way too fast to be an ordinary sedative. Her heart rate slowed, her consciousness slipping away. She only managed to choke out, “Yes sir,” before her eyes rolled into the back of her head and she fell forward, her mind slipping into a comfortable void where nothing seemed to exist. 

[kimageddon]

Hey! I hope you don't mind multiples for the ask game! I'm curious about all three of these: 🛠️⛔🤩

Not at all! I'm very excited to get asks! I was so excited to see one from you! I just love your work so much and admire you so so so much!

🛠What tools/programs/apps do you use to write?

I use Google Docs, it's easy to share with my amazing editor, and she can leave comments. It runs pretty well on my clunky little laptop. I do have to start a new document every 100 pages because it starts lagging a little bit.

⛔ Do you have a fic you started, but scrapped?

I don't know if I have scrapped any, I do have asks that I have ideas for that I haven't written and ideas in my head, like a crossover for example. But I don't know if I have any I have fully scrapped.

I do have the Witch AU story that is still in my back log that I want to make my next big project after Sins of the Father.

🤩 Who is your favorite character to write?

As much as I love Zaiya (my main OC) and Maul and Savage and Adaji (another OC), my actual favourite that I can hear very well in my head is.....

Hondo Ohnaka.

I just really like writing him and he has such a unique character and voice and I can hear his cadence in my head when I imagine him speaking. It makes me giggle when I get to write him and some people may not agree with giving him a few soft moments, but I also look forward to giving him some scary moments too.

Fanfic Writer Emoji Ask Game - send me an ask!

Thank you Inky! I love getting asks and I have such respect and admiration for you and your work! Thank you so much!

[legends-of-time]

Amelia’s Story (BBC Merlin Story)

Chapter 26: The Sins of a Father

Masterlist

Amelia's POV

The whole Court gathers in the Hall of Ceremonies for the knighting of some new Knights. Amelia stands behind Uther like Morgana and Arthur, as Uther participates in the ceremony. Anne, Gwen, Gaius and Merlin stand on one side of the room on Amelia's left.

Uther gets to the last two. "Arise Sir Vidor, Knight of Camelot. Arise Sir Caradoc, Knight of Camelot." All the men rise after Uther completes his sword shoulder touching. "You have been accorded a great honour. But with that honour comes great responsibility. From this day forth, you are sworn to live by the Knights' code. You have pledged to conduct yourselves with nobility, honour, and respect. Your word is your sacred bond. You will find no one who better embodies these values than my son, Arthur." Uther places a hand on his shoulder. "Follow his example, and you will prove yourselves worthy of your title."

The entire Court turns to the door at the sound of swords fighting outside. A Knight enters. The newly made Knights of Camelot draw their swords as the Knight approaches. Amelia grips her dagger that's in the pocket of one of her dresses. Anne still finds her demands for pockets in her dresses, and in her own as well, confusing.

Arthur steps forward and the Knight drops their gauntlet in front of Arthur, who picks it up. "I accept your challenge. If I'm to face you in combat, do me the courtesy of revealing your identity."

The Knight removes the helmet to reveal a wealth of long blonde tresses. The Knight is a woman.

"My name is Morgause." Amelia stares at her in surprise. The woman feels familiar somehow but not in the sense that Amelia remembers her from the show but something else. Something deeper.

——

Amelia watches Morgause practising in the Square from her window after she had dressed for bed. Anne is behind her turning down the bed for her to sleep in.

"Who is she? Why would she challenge Arthur?" Anne questions. "It seems no one's ever heard of her." Amelia's notes don't say much either other than to be wary of Morgause and that her arrival will reveal to Arthur the circumstances of his birth, whatever that means.

"I feel as if I've met her somewhere before. Familiar like you felt with Edwin." She feels bad for bringing up her dead brother but Anne doesn't look outwardly upset.

Anne frowns in thought. "Really? Where could you know her from?"

"I don't know," Amelia replies as she turns back to watch Morgause. She retreats from the window when she sees Morgause glance up.

——

Amelia waits anxiously as Uther enters the stand in the Tournament Grounds along with applause from the crowd and passes in front of her to stop in front of his seat. Morgana stands on his other side. They sit down and Morgause enters and stands in front of them. Morgana had said that morning that she also feels the same about Morgause as Amelia does. The crowd cheers when Arthur enters.

Uther stands again. "The fight is by the Knights' Rules. And to the death."

Arthur walks over to Morgause and whispers something to her but Amelia can't hear it nor can she tell if Morgause responds when she turns her head to look at him as she wears a helmet.

They begin to fight. Arthur catches Morgause on the arm but allows her to pick up her sword. She ends up disarming him and presses her sword to his chest. They talk hurriedly before Morgause releases her sword from his chest. She walks over to the royal box, bows and walks away. Arthur slowly stands up looking ashamed.

Amelia's eyes follow her as she leaves; she can't seem to work this woman out.

——

Amelia sits at the opposite end of the table in Arthur’s Chambers as said man is slumped over at the other end. Merlin is unbuckling his armour. She watches the scene feeling highly amused.

"It could've been worse," Merlin tells him.

"How, exactly, could it have been worse?" Arthur wonders despondently.

"You could be dead." Amelia points out, but she knows her words will not have any impact.

"At least I wouldn't have to face everyone," Arthur replies. "I've never felt so humiliated in my entire life. I was defeated by a girl."

Amelia scoffs annoyed. "What does that mean Arthur?" Her eyes narrow at him.

"It's actually quite funny when you think about it." Merlin chuckles but Arthur turns to glare at him. "Or not."

"No." Arthur sits up. "It's like you said. I was hindered because I was fighting a woman. I was worried I was going to hurt her. That's why she won."

Merlin bends down to Arthur's arm to continue unbuckling. "You didn't look hindered..." Arthur gives him a look. "I'll stop talking now."

Amelia rolls her eyes. "Well come and find me when you have gotten over this ridiculous idea of masculinity."

She leaves the room in search of where Morgause's Guest Chambers is as she can't seem to let go of this tug to find answers.

——

Amelia knocks on the door and enters. She can't see Morgause at first but then the woman appears from behind a curtain at the end of the room.

"I didn't mean to intrude. I wanted to introduce myself. I'm Lady Amelia Hallewell." She says awkwardly, feeling bad for just walking in.

"I know who you are." Comes the reply as Morgause walks forward. Amelia swallows uncomfortably trying to think of what else to say.

She notices the bandage on Morgause's arm. "How is your arm? You were wounded."

"It'll heal soon enough." The woman dismisses before analysing Amelia's face intently as she steps closer. Amelia's eyes flicker around, looking for somewhere else to look. "You look tired."

"I haven't been sleeping," Amelia replies.

"I know for myself how troubling that can be," Morgause admits.

"Could it be that we've met somewhere before?" Amelia asks her desperately. Surely she also feels this odd draw between them.

Morgause shakes head. "I'm glad we have met now." She walks away to her things.

There is another lull in the conversation. Amelia looks down and spots the bracelet on Morgause's wrist. "That's a beautiful bracelet."

"It was a gift. From my mother. Please, I would like you to have it." Morgause takes it off and holds it out to Amelia. "It's a healing bracelet. It will help you sleep."

"I-I couldn't it belonged to your mother, which means it's very important." Amelia feels then that she should probably leave. "You must be tired. I will leave you to rest." She turns and walks to the door.

"I hope you will remember me fondly," Morgause says.

Amelia turns to look at the woman and nods though she doesn't know whether she will.

——

Amelia that night is having another restless sleep trying to fight her dreams that have been getting worse recently but there is sudden silence in her mind and she can stop twitching, finding a calm sleep.

She is in such a deep and comfortable sleep that she groans as she wakes because someone is shaking her.

"Amelia. Amelia. Amelia." She hears Anne utter urgently.

"Mmmhh..." Amelia blinks trying to wake herself up. "Why did you wake me up? I was having a good sleep for once." She grumbles.

"Because it's nearly midday," Anne replies.

Amelia looks at her in shock and sits up. "I can't remember the last time I slept so well."

"Morgana said the same when Gwen woke her just now," Anne says. "I'll fetch you some clothes."

Anne walks away and that is when Amelia spots a bracelet that is suspiciously similar to Morgause's sitting on the table at the end of her bed. She picks it up to have a look and feels compelled to put it on. Why would Morgause give her – and maybe Morgana as well, if Anne is right, – this bracelet? Especially one so important.

——

Amelia, after getting dressed, rushes to Morgana's Chambers.

"Did you get a bracelet too?" She asks as she bursts in to find Morgana sitting at her dressing table. She shows the bracelet on her wrist.

Morgana nods eagerly. "Yes!" She shows her own and it looks exactly like the one Amelia received. "What do you think this means? How could it help us sleep so well?"

"I do not know." Amelia answers. "But Morgause said it was a healing bracelet. Maybe that's why?"

"What does this all mean?" Morgana wonders. "How can we feel like we have met this woman when we have never met her?"

"I do not know," Amelia murmurs. What is going on?

——

Morgause had cornered Arthur into agreeing to complete a challenge and she would spare his life. He had. However, his father has refused to let him go and has confined him to his Chambers but Arthur plans to go anyway. Merlin recruits Amelia and Anne to help him get Arthur out of Camelot. Amelia and Anne gather the supplies while Merlin collects the rope they're planning to use to sneak Arthur out the window.

When they meet back in the corridor, Amelia covers her mouth to stop laughing at the sight of Merlin looking like he has put on weight due to hiding the rope under his top. They enter Arthur's Chambers. Arthur is now dressed in chainmail.

"We've got the supplies," Amelia tells him and Anne holds up said bags.

Arthur frowns at Merlin. "Merlin, is it my imagination, or are you getting fat?" Merlin lifts his shirt to reveal the rope wrapped around his torso. Arthur smiles.

Amelia, Anne and Merlin all prepare to anchor Arthur by gripping various parts of the rope. Arthur begins climbing out the window.

"Are you sure you're strong enough to hold me?" Arthur questions them.

"Yeah. We're stronger than we look." Merlin's statement doesn't seem to reassure Arthur.

Arthur jumps out of the room. The rope rapidly gets pulled through the window pulling Anne, Amelia and Merlin along as they frantically try to stop it.

"What are you doing? Lower the rope!" Arthur hisses to them from where he has stopped halfway down the wall.

"There is no more rope!" Anne cries.

"I don't know if we can hold on much longer!" Merlin warns.

"Merlin, do not let go of the ro..." The rope slips causing those in the room to fall on the floor and Arthur face first into a pile of dung.

"I'm sure he's fine," Amelia says.

Uther learns the next day that Arthur has escaped and immediately sends out a search party. It makes Amelia wonder what he is so worried about.

——

Anne's POV

It is during their journey that the three of them learn that Arthur’s horse is the one that knows where they are going and they are forced to follow; mostly because it will not listen to any instructions Arthur gives.

"What if Morgause challenges you to do something you don't want to do?" Merlin asks later on.

"I'm not expecting it to be easy, Merlin. That's why it's called a challenge." Arthur answers.

"So you'd do anything she asks of you?" Anne questions incredulously.

"I gave her my word. It's a question of honour." Arthur replies.

"What if she challenges you to do something even less honourable than breaking your word?" Merlin asks.

"Will you stop rabbitting on?" Arthur snaps. "We're in Odin's territory. We could be attacked at any second."

"We just think it's strange to agree to do something when you don't know what it is." Anne remarks.

"One more word out of you two and you'll be taking the challenge in my place." Arthur declares.

Suddenly an arrow hits the tree in front of Merlin causing his horse to rear up and him to fall. Anne looks around to see that they are being attacked by Odin's men. She and Arthur jump off their horses, pull out their swords and engage with the attackers. Anne is thankful that Amelia had thought of teaching her more on how to use the sword after they went to Ealdor.

A man runs over to Merlin, who's on the floor, with a sword in his hands but Anne runs over and stabs him in the back. Anne hears a cry of pain and sees a man fall out of a tree branch with a spear that is on fire, likely Merlin's work.

Anne and Arthur finish off the other attackers. Arthur looks round and spots Merlin on the floor. "Don't worry, Merlin. We'll deal with this, you lie there, make yourself comfortable."

Merlin lets out a huff and Anne walks over to help him up. "I saw what you did Merlin, thank you."

Merlin gives her a warm smile. "Your welcome."

"Maybe we should turn back," Anne says to Arthur when they get back to the horses. "The woods could be full of Odin's men."

"You two can go back if you want to, I won't stop you," Arthur replies.

"You don't know anything about Morgause!" Merlin reminds him. "You don't know what she's gonna ask you to do! We don't even know where we're going, we're following a horse!"

"Morgause said she knew my mother," Arthur tells them. Anne blinks in surprise. Well, that explains things.

——

Amelia's POV

Amelia gets a knock on her door and opens it to find Gaius on the other side.

"Gaius, come in." She greets.

"Good day, my dear. I brought you your sleeping draught." Gaius says conversationally.

"Oh, I should have saved you the trouble of coming over here." Amelia apologies. " I do not believe I need it. I had the best night's sleep I can remember. So did Morgana."

"No nightmares?" Gaius questions, surprised.

"I can't tell you what a relief it is. I only wish I could thank Morgause for her gift." Amelia rubs Morgause's bracelet that she wears on her wrist. She has been wondering if Morgause is actually as suspicious as her notes say if she has done this for her.

"Morgause gave you that bracelet?" Gaius asks, frowning.

"Gave Morgana a similar one as well. She told me it would help me sleep. She spoke the truth." Amelia notices a worried look on Gaius' face. Does he know something? "Gaius, what is it? What's wrong?"

"Nothing. I'm merely surprised that it's so effective." Gaius replies.

"I feel as if I somehow know Morgause." She tells him, hoping he'll be able to tell her something.

"I don't see how." Gaius answers. "But I'm pleased you're feeling better."

——

Anne's POV

"What was your mother like?" Merlin asks as they sit at a campfire.

"I never knew her. She died before I opened my eyes." Arthur answers.

"I'm sorry," Anne says.

"I barely know anything about her." Arthur continues.

"Can't you ask your father?" Merlin questions.

"He refuses to talk about her," Arthur replies. "It must be too painful for him. Sometimes it's as if she never even existed. I still have a sense of her. Almost as though she's part of me."

"That's the same with my father," Merlin says. "I never knew him. And my mothers barely spoken of him. I've got this... vague memory. It's probably just my imagination."

"Me as well." Anne pipes up. "My parents died when I was barely walking. I don't remember anything."

"I'd do anything for even the vaguest memory," Arthur says.

"Is that why you're so determined to find Morgause? To see what she knows about your mother?" Anne probes. She honestly does not blame him.

"Is that so wrong?"

"No." Merlin answers.

——

Amelia's POV

Amelia has gotten highly suspicious of Gaius’ obvious lying to her face about her connection to Morgause. So she gets a bowl of water into her Chambers and decides this is as good of a time as any to practice scrying, something Anne had encouraged her to practice as Amelia is a seer. She's been getting better with better practice. Finding what she's looking for and how long she can do it.

She finds Gaius entering the Council Chambers where Uther is eating.

"My Lord, I must speak with you. It concerns Morgause." Gaius says.

"What is it?" Uther asks.

"While I was treating her wound, I noticed that she wore a bracelet." Gaius walking closer. Amelia glances down at the bracelet sitting on her wrist.

"Go on."

"And it bore the mark of one of the Great Houses, the Great House of de Bois." This causes Uther to pause in sipping from his goblet. "There is a person, other than Morgana, who would have cause to wear such a bracelet. That is, an older half sister from before her marriage to Gorlois." Amelia gapes in shock. Morgana and Morgause are half sisters?! Why did her past self not think it necessary to note down this kind of information?!

Uther slams down his goblet. "I was led to believe that the child had died."

Gaius turns to look away from Uther. "The child lived, My Lord." Uther stands. "She was smuggled out of Camelot shortly after her birth."

"How do you know this?" Uther asks.

"It was I who entrusted the child to the High Priestesses of the Old Religion." Uther's steps away from his seat and walks to Gaius as the man speaks.

"There is something else," Gaius says before Uther can speak. "Amelia, she's not Helen and George Hallewell's biological daughter." Amelia frowns wondering if she had already known this. She shifts through her memory and vaguely recalls the first few minutes of her new life, a woman not being able to look at her. Was that her biological mother in this life?

"But she must be? I remember her being with child." Uther insists.

"She was but sadly she lost the child while George was away but couldn't bring herself to tell him the truth so I brought another child to her." Gaius explains. Amelia shakily sits down in a chair nearby, close enough to still watch.

"Where did you get this child? Who are the real parents of Amelia?" Uther demands though he sounds as if he has already figured it out.

“Her real mother had gone to visit her brother,” Gaius answers instead, “on the way, she had met a traveller and did not return the same but it was not her husband’s child so she had it in secret.”

"Gaius..."

"Her mother is Vivienne de Bois. The sister of your wife Ygraine and her brothers Tristan and Agravaine." Not only are Morgana and Morgause Amelia's half sisters, but also Arthur is her cousin?!

"You should've told me, Gaius." Uther hisses.

Gaius turns to him. "I had sworn a solemn oath, My Lord. I'm only breaking it now because I fear what Morgause might do."

"Does Morgana and Amelia know?" Uther asks.

"I don't believe so." Might want to rethink that Gaius.

"Morgana and Amelia must never find out that they are half sisters nor that they have a half sister." Uther declares. "I will not have their loyalties divided." Uther walks away.

"Of course. The High Priestesses will have trained Morgause from birth. Her magic will be powerful." Gaius warns.

"Then we must hope the search party finds Arthur before he reaches her."

Amelia decides to stop watching. She collapses against the back of her chair, exhausted from doing the spell. Though the question now is, who is her real father and what does she tell Morgana?

——

Anne's POV

After Arthur’s horse makes them go through a lake and a waterfall, they enter a tunnel behind it and then emerge from the wood to find a Castle.

"Where are we?" Anne asks as they ride up to the Castle.

"I don't know," Arthur responds.

"If we weren't sure Morgause was a sorcerer before, we can be certain of it now," Merlin says.

"That must've been how she defeated me. She was using magic." Arthur decides. Anne rolls her eyes. Typical Arthur.

"Hmm, it didn't look like she was," Merlin remarks.

"And what would you know about magic, Merlin?" Arthur questions condescendingly.

"Nothing." Anne shares a look with Merlin.

They dismount and enter into a Chamber empty except for a block of wood with an axe.

"Now what?" Arthur asks.

"Maybe we should ask the horse," Merlin remarks sarcastically.

Nothing happens so Anne grabs her chance to get out. "Well, there's no one here." As she turns, a voice interrupts them.

"You kept your promise." Anne turns to see Morgause, now dressed in an elegant red dress, descend from some stairs in the corner.

"What is the nature of the challenge you wish to set me?" Arthur asks.

"Place your head on the block." Morgause picks up the axe. What?!

"You gave me your word that you would do anything I asked." She then says after Arthur hesitates.

"Arthur, don't." Anne pleads but Arthur ignores her and kneels to place his head on the block.

"What are you doing? I won't let you do this!" Merlin cries.

"Stay out of this you two!" Arthur orders.

Anne and Merlin stand anxiously as Morgause begins to swing the axe, then puts it down.

"You have shown that you are truly a man of your word, Arthur Pendragon," Morgause says, walking away. Arthur quickly stands, looking shocked. She turns back, "and for that I will grant you one wish. Tell me what it is that your heart most desires."

"You said you knew my mother. Tell me all that you know about her." Arthur orders.

"Perhaps you would like to see her," Morgause says instead.

"I want that more than anything," Arthur replies.

"As you wish."

——

Amelia's POV

Amelia charges down to Kilgharrah's Cave to demand some answers.

"Ah, young one. I was expecting you." He greets her casually as soon as she enters as if he hasn't done something that has really angered her.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Amelia demands. "I know I probably knew before my injury but you could see I had forgotten many things, why couldn't you have reminded me?"

"It was your destiny to forget until the correct time," Kilgharrah says.

Amelia groans annoyed. "That's not your decision!" Amelia takes a breath, trying to calm herself down. "Does this mean you know who my birth father is?"

"Best left to know at the right time."

She's silent for a moment before hesitantly asking, "How am I going to tell Morgana?"

"It's best she not know," Kilgharrah says shortly.

"Why?" Amelia asks, narrowing her eyes at him. "We're literally sisters! We have a sister!"

"Because of her destiny."

"Heh?" Is Amelia's intelligent response.

"It is best the witch—" Kilgharrah starts but she cuts him off.

"What did you just call my frien- no, my sister?!" Amelia cries. "You know what, I don't want to talk to you right now." She turns and leaves the cave.

——

Anne's POV

They move inside into a room that seems overgrown from the nature outside with fire pits scattered about. Morgause prepares her spell by lighting candles on a table.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Merlin questions Arthur.

"If you two were granted the same opportunity, would you not want to meet your own parents?" Arthur counters. This quietens Anne as she realises that she would.

"Uther won't forgive you if he finds out you've collaborated with a sorcerer," Merlin replies.

"What if my father's attitude to magic is wrong?" Arthur wonders.

"You really think that?" Anne asks with shock and hope.

"Perhaps it's not as simple as he would have us believe." Arthur continues. "Morgause is a sorcerer, she has caused us no harm. Surely not everyone who practices magic can be evil."

Despite the hopeful look on his face, Merlin is still worried. "We don't actually know why she's doing this."

Anne frowns, he does have a point.

Before they can talk more, Morgause turns to them. "It is time." She holds out her hand to Arthur. He walks towards her and turns him to face Anne and Merlin. "Close your eyes." Arthur does so and Morgause begins to chant. "Arásae mid min miclan mihte þín suna to helpe. Hider eft funde on þisse ne middangeard þín suna w'æs."

The wind picks up but then slows as if time is being slowed down.

"Arthur." Anne turns to see a woman that looks like Arthur standing behind her. "Arthur."

"Mother," Arthur replies in shock.

"My son." Ygraine goes to Arthur and they meet in the middle and hug. Anne watches with a small smile on her face.

"When I last held you, you were a tiny baby." Ygraine pulls back to look at him but still holds him. "I remember your eyes. You were staring up at me. Those few seconds I held you were the most precious of my life."

"I'm so sorry." Arthur apologies.

"You have nothing to be sorry for." Ygraine admonishes.

"It was my birth that caused you to die." Arthur insists.

"No, you are not to blame."

"I cannot bear the thought that you died because of me." Arthur finishes.

"Do not think that." Ygraine hugs him again. "It is your father who should carry the guilt for what happened." Anne looks at Merlin confused.

"What do you mean?" Arthur asks.

"It is not important." Ygraine dismisses. "What matters is that you lived."

Arthur pulls back. "Why should my father feel guilty?"

"It is better left in the past." Ygraine's dismisses again.

"You cannot leave me with more questions. Please." Arthur begs.

"Your father, he was desperate for an heir. Without a son, the Pendragon dynasty would come to an end. But I could not conceive." Ygraine begins to explain.

"But how was I born?" Ygraine hesitates. "Tell me."

"Your father betrayed me. He went to the sorceress Nimueh and asked for her help in conceiving a child... You were born of magic." Ygraine admits.

Anne almost gasps at the revelation. She cannot believe it but at the same time, Uther's hatred now makes more sense.

"That's not true." Arthur tries to deny it.

"I'm sorry, Arthur. Your father has deceived you as he deceived me. To create a life, a life must be taken. Your father knew that." Ygraine continues.

"No."

Ygraine is not finished. "He sacrificed my life so the Pendragon dynasty could continue. It makes you no less my son, nor me any less proud of you. Now I see you, I would have given my life willingly. Do not let this knowledge change you."

Anne cannot help but think it is too late for that.

Arthur looks down, shaking his head. Anne notices the wind turn up again and when she looks to where Ygraine was, she is gone.

"No!" Arthur cries when he notices. "Bring her back!"

"I cannot," Morgause admits remorsefully. "Once the doorway is closed, it is closed forever. I am truly sorry that your learnt of your mother's fate in this way. I can only imagine how it must feel to discover your father is responsible for her death. It is an unforgivable betrayal." Morgause leaves.

"Are you alright?" When Arthur does not respond, Merlin tries again. "Arthur?"

"Fetch the horses. We're returning to Camelot." Arthur orders walking away. Anne watches after him, worried.

——

Amelia's POV

Amelia sees them return and runs to greet them.

"Arthur! Anne! Merlin! What happ-" Amelia begins when she reaches their horses but is cut off by Arthur who instead of greeting her when he dismounts, grabs the sword from his horse before walking up the steps into the Castle. Amelia looks after him confused and looks back to Anne and Merlin for an explanation.

Merlin instead walks past her and calls to Arthur, "What are you going to do?" Arthur keeps walking. Anne just looks lost.

Gaius comes up to them. "Merlin. Anne. I'm relieved to see you're both safe. Where's Arthur?" He asks.

Merlin walks around Gaius to the Courtyard Corridor. Amelia now feels incredibly confused and, along with Gaius and Anne, follows Merlin into the Courtyard Corridor where he faces the wall.

"Arthur was born of magic." Merlin states.

"What?!" Amelia exclaims. She spins around to look at Anne, who nods.

Anne turns to Gaius then. "Wasn't he? Uther used magic."

"Anne..." Gaius starts.

"All those people he's executed..." Merlin says with simmering anger, "he's as guilty as they are. He sacrificed Arthur's mother! He as good as murdered her! People should know the truth about what he's done."

Amelia looks to Gaius. "How could you not tell us?"

"I feared what Arthur would do if he ever found out," Gaius explains.

"Oh, he's found out now." Merlin runs up the steps into the palace. Amelia follows with Anne.

Merlin turns to them. "No, you're not coming."

"But—" Anne starts and Amelia is ready to argue with her.

"No Arthur is too dangerous right now," Merlin says.

"Fine." Amelia snaps. They didn't have time to argue. "You better tell us all about what happens."

"I will." Merlin sprints away.

——

"Uther... thanked you? And he called you a trusted ally in the fight against magic..." Amelia says slowly as if she can't believe it.

"Yep," Merlin replies. He had come to her Chambers to tell her and Anne about what happened in the Council Chambers. Merlin had gotten Arthur to stop by telling him that Morgause had lied and conjured an illusion of his mother to trick him. However, this has led to Arthur declaring that magic is evil though Amelia decides not to focus on that as it clearly hurts Merlin to talk about it.

"Anyway..." Anne trails off. "Amelia was saying she had some news for us."

"You do?" Merlin asks.

Right! Amelia nods. "Ah, yes seems like it's all about patents at the moment." She pauses trying to think about how to explain this. "Um, so turns out Morgana's mother Vivienne mothered Morgause with someone we don't know before she married Gorlois and had Morgana then after that had an affair with another man which resulted in me." She looks at their stunned faces. "And that about covers it."

"You're telling me," Anne mutters. "Have you told Morgana?"

Amelia shakes her head. "Uh no. I don't know how plus Kilgharrah told me not to in an unflattering way."

"Maybe you should listen to him," Merlin says.

Amelia turns to him in surprise. "Eh?"

Merlin shrugs. "Maybe he has his reasons."

"Not nice ones probably." Amelia scrunches her nose. "But fine, I won't tell her unless the situation calls for it."

"The question is," Anne begins drawing their attention, "who is your real father?"

"How am I supposed to know? I wasn't there at the conceiving." Amelia remarks causing the other two to snort.

——

A/N: Gaius and Uther called Morgana and Morgause half sisters while it was still believed Gorlois was Morgana's father. This implies Gorlois is not Morgause's father.

I also put Morgause's birth in this version to before Vivienne got with Gorlois plus in this world Morgause, Morgana and Amelia's mother is the sister of Arthur's. So it made overall sense for the symbol of the bracelet not to be from the house of Gorlois.

Please leave comments on how you're enjoying this story and what you think.

[violetsystems]

There's this thing in America right now where being mean is en vogue. I'm good at returning it and being an asshole but being angry is exhausting for me. Maybe it's always been that way but it has more righteous political motivation since Trump. and it comes from both sides. Like they learned it from the Joker or what not. But it's ok to roast people you don't like because they deserve it. You can come up with all sorts of prejudice and reasons for it. It's still prejudice. You don't really know someone until you sit down and talk to them. And people think stalking your social media is you talking to them. Even if you've shut down your Facebook, twitter, Insta and all the forward facing public shit they'll find your private life somehow. They think this is ok. In some very rare cases maybe? But people think they can invade your life on that premise often come up with reasons that are timely, plausible and righteous. Just like they did in Nazi Germany or the Mccarthy era. You are a spy for China. You come from a family or bloodline that someone doesn't like. You don't belong in this neighborhood you've lived in for twelve years. You said some shit about Karl Marx once favorably. There's a point when that provocation or revolutionary spirit goes overboard. And I think we're getting to that now. When you see somebody suffering all the time for the sins of the father or what not. And you've proven your acid test of someone's life doesn't match the same judgement of your own. I can be the villain all day. It doesn't really suit me. If I'm a villain for anything it's for coming up with ways to still be myself. But you bully someone enough with whatever reasons you have to a point where the glass house paradigm comes into play. These people switch from bully to victim real quick and you see it with conservative right wing radicals like the proud boys who escape jail time and come up with excuses. Or that MMA guy who thinks the matrix is after him. Oh I have a health condition. I'm working class yet I am also a viral sensation singing about rich men in Richmond. I thought you were talking about British Columbia honestly. Love the Chinese food out there. Speaking of China. It's the same mentality. There's a point where America's self righteous talk about freedom isn't carrot and stick. It's a billy club used to beat everyone who doesn't submit on the world stage. And if you look around the world stage everything is out of control. The trick for me has always been the balance between giving back the same energy and still remaining the person I am inside. Kind, vigilant, caring and attentive. Only a few people deserve that and they can feel it as can I regardless what the medium is. If you are here to roast me or fuck with my life? Just remember however hard you watch me? There are people watching you do what you do. And my advice in a non malicious way is that time is running out for people to act like this is all a joke. There's a real price for things down the road. Lord knows I've been paying it for three years. I can't be the target forever. There's a point when you stand up to bullshit tactics and you find these people don't have an emergent strategy. One trick ponies only last in the rodeo one or two seasons. Then it's off to the glue factory. Remember whatever you throw out there in terms of shade comes back and sticks eventually. I'm not here to forgive people for it after what I've been through. But just like always I'm going to look the other way when karma works it all out.

[amassgraveofsaints]

start somewhere

as i write this, it's june 18th, 2023.

mom is out on a business trip, dad is asleep, not for long though as he has to wake up in a few minutes.

it's my friend's birthday, and while the day is young and it's a worthwhile reason to celebrate, this is the lowest i've been in a while.

i was supposed to go to new york with my dad last night, my idea of an early father's day gift, however earlier he fell and hit his head on a table. thankfully, he's okay, though it did put a scare on me and a damper on my mood for a good portion of the day.

he's still in high spirits, eager to care for his youngest as always, and just as ready to go to work like every other day, and i can't blame him. can't let small mistakes ruin your mood.

i feel as though i'm wired different from most, though. either that or all those small mistakes are piling up, as when i walked alone for the first time in years to the supermarket, everything just... hit me.

i remember when, too. 6:45pm; an hour and 15 minutes before aew collision, and around the time the first openers were to come on at that show.

maybe it was the music. maybe it was the situation i found myself in. maybe it was the loneliness. maybe it was the shoes, which i had bought for that concert and i saw as a reminder of how much my parents love me in spite of the stupid shit i ask of them daily.

i looked tired on the outside, and i was looking for tea, so to the passerby, i'd probably just look like i was looking for a pick-me-up. internally, all of my fears, sins, and bad memories had come back with a vengeance.

there's way more negative i can say about myself than positive, but there's only so much time in the world for me to bring it all up, and the one thing i hate worse than myself is how little time there is in the world.

i can't spend forever looking back or looking forward. and yet i despise looking at the now. the past looks empty, the future looks like nothing, and the present looks even lesser than both.

but this doesn't stop the clock from ticking. and ticking. and ticking.

midnight always comes one way or another, no matter what we do.

and so the clock moved, and yet as it moved i forgot everything i did in that supermarket.

i got my stuff and left, and everything else is a blur.

i got home at around 7:58, eager to watch aew collision with my dad in lieu of the concert. i gave him the father's day gift i was to give him today then and there, and he embraced me for a hug.

aew collision began, and we watched. and as i watched, all my fears had vanished.

dm's from friends rolled in as one spectacle happened that night after another. me and my dad were ecstatic at the big spots.

it didn't fully hit me, but i understood at that moment, something i probably won't understand again in my life.

time is finite, and ever crawling. one day we will be here, the next we won't. make the most of things that disrupt your pattern. spend what you have with people you care about. chess, or a funny co-op game, or watching tabloid news shows/pro wrestling together. even if it's only for a little bit, or if it's mundane, cherish it.

as i write this, it's june 18th, 2023.

it's 4:50 am, dad is asleep. he's only slept a handful of hours due to caring for me amidst mom not being here, and yet the couple of times he woke up he's still got a smile on his face and a thumb pointed upwards.

it's my friend's birthday, a day we started off with by playing chess and cod at the same time, many a laugh to be had before she went to sleep.

i'm alone in my bed. i feel nothing like the alone i was at the supermarket.

i'm 20.

my friend is 20.

my mom is 53, 54 this wednesday.

my dad is 47, 48 next month.

the clock moves.

i know our time is finite, but for now at least, all i see is "today after today after today".

tomorrow, at night, mom will be back from her business trip and things will be back to normal, most likely.

uncle wakes up to go to work at 4:50pm, dad comes home at 5:30pm, i watch inside edition at 7pm, and the occasional chat with my online friends throughout.

last night was an outlier, as dad was off work the whole day and it's the first time since february me and him spent the whole day together.

that time we went to a concert.

this time we didn't.

there's more chances, and i won't let this roadblock fuck my day up for now.

even as things go back to business as usual, i will, at least for a couple of days, learn to appreciate today for what it is. maybe even convince dad to go to a concert next week just for us to make up for it.

will he agree? probably not.

but if not, then at least i'll have a newfound appreciation for the time we all spend together.

after all, you never know when the clock will stop unti

[amicidomenicani]

Question Dear Father Angelo,  I am very disoriented. In the last confession, made at a shrine, the confessor said to me, "Have you ever thought of becoming a priest?" And then resumed saying, "God's will and his call can be expressed in many ways, even in what I'm telling you." Honestly, it is already the second time that I have been proposed to become a priest, the first time was by my former parish priest, now ninety years old. Now, is that truly the Lord's call like this for me? How can I find out if my vocation as a Christian is lay or consecrated? In recent times, it is true, my faith  feels more intense, more fervent. I feel this even from the little things. A few days ago, I was left alone in the chapter house of the cathedral in my town to finish a little job for the parish priest until late in the evening, who, having to leave early, left me the keys to the church and asked me to lock it when I was done. My little work done, I walked down the dark aisle and felt an inner peace, almost like a feeling that Jesus was with me. Over this I ask you to help me understand better if possible, to clarify myself a bit. I ask you one more question. I've made a resolution to take communion when I'm at Mass on weekdays (I don't think it's a vow). Tonight, in particular, I felt unworthy. I felt I needed a confession. While I don't remember any specific mortal sins from the last confession, I feared committing sacrilege, offending the Lord more than I had by keeping the resolution. Was it a temptation? However, I will try to confess as soon as possible.  I look forward to your blessing and prayerful remembrance, promising to remember you in my prayers.  Francesco Priest's answer Dear Francesco,  1. The Lord's call can be expressed in many ways, even through the confessor's voice. However, the confessor has not told you that you have to become a priest. He asked you to think about it. And, you do well to think about it. But until you feel within yourself an internal inclination that drives you to become a priest, there can still be no talk of a vocation.  2. The priest probably saw many good qualities in you and also a possibility that you may become a priest. But, the Lord has his own plans.  3. I too have seen in my life many young people who are better than me (and I still see some) who, if they had become priests, would have done an immensely greater good than what I can do. I spoke openly with them about this too. But they said they didn't feel the call. I didn't go any further. However, in conclusion, I have done my part and, on this point, I am calm. And they too are calm, because after having examined the matter seriously and serenely, they have acknowledged that they have not been called.  4. You told me about the great serenity you felt in the Church, when you found yourself all alone after having done good work. It was the thank you that Jesus said to you. You won't be able to forget it easily. Perhaps it is also an incentive to spend more time in intimate recollection with him, right there in the Church, where the sacramental presence exists and is felt.  5. About the sense of unworthiness you felt in receiving Holy Communion, despite not having awareness of grave sin, I don't know if it was a temptation or if it was a grace. Because, sometimes the Lord gives us a sense of his holiness. And in that moment we feel so small, so unworthy and also so dirty or ungrateful, even though we are unaware of grave sins. In those moments we feel like saying together with St. Peter, who just before had received an amazing grace from the Lord, "Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man" (Lk 5:8). You didn't have to confess to this. But I urge you to confess often, even if there were no serious sins. The Lord is happy to purify and sanctify us more and more. And we must be grateful to them.  Goodbye for now, I remember you to the Lord and I bless you.  Father Angelo

[tuffc0okie]

09.24.22

I'm watching The Miseducation of Cameron Post and reflecting on my time in the church. It's crazy to think about how the last church I went to told my Dad, who was an associate pastor and worship leader at (and at many churches we went to everywhere we moved), that he needed to "maintain his household before leading the congregation" when I started listening to secular metal and was into alternative fashion. Being so sheltered and cut off from the world, I didn't even know anyone at all who was LGBTQIA even remotely yet I still had a huge crush on the pastors daughter (we will just call her B). We were inseparable, we spent so much time walking through the neighborhood, having sleepovers, dressing up and singing to musicals on CD, spending time with her family, just everything really. We'd also spend a lot of time swimming together and I remember I didn't really have any sexual attraction, but more I found women mesmerizing. I remember having dreams of the lifeguards and of her swimming underwater and looking like ethereal mermaids... almost like in a Sextape by Deftones way before I ever discovered it.

I remember one day she made this elaborate story about some boy from her school who had a huge crush on me. I was homeschooled, so I didn't really spend any time with boys at all and I was super curious about it and, when I would ask her about how he knew he had these feelings about me she would tell me she told him everything about me. I asked her more and more and she would tell me these stories about how he wanted to meet me, but then I noticed when she showed me a "picture" of him, that is was the same picture cut out from a teens magazine I had snuck home (because I wasn't able to have teen mags then). She would give me letters he had supposedly written me and they would always be so messy. One day I burst into her house to play with her and she wasn't in her room and I found half written letters she was still working on to give me. I realized I was being gullible but I kept playing along.

There was a new girl who came to the church (we will call her K) and she was coming around more when her parents got much more involved in the church, so naturally her and I were at church hanging around 4 or 5 days a week. We naturally became inseparable like B and I had been, and, I remember one time specifically when she saw K and I passing notes with little hearts and our hands... lingered... we had held hands when the congregation would pray and I would always be softly rubbing the outside of her hand but this time was different... and B saw. From that day forward none of the moms wanted me to hang out with their daughters and B would ignore me. The pastor, her father, pulled me aside and told me "I wasn't welcome in HIS house of God if I wanted to live in sin and tempt other young women down an unrighteous path". I was scorned and hated everyone in the church from that moment forward. I only wanted to hang out with the older guys who were in hardcore bands, but secretly it wasn't because I wanted to be with them, I wanted to be in bands with them. Just like I wanted to play football with the boys in elementary school and was told I couldn't unless I shaved my head, which my Dad wouldn't let me.

I remember I still saw K though, we would spend tons of time together and steal kisses in the bathroom while we did our makeup side by side. Though she always had a boyfriend, she would always insist it was so easy- all you had to do was choose the one you want and say yes. After many nervous nights of laying beside her with my arms by my side, we eventually found ourselves cuddling. I loved her candy smelling perfume and how girly she was. I was mesmerized. Her family eventually heard about it and I couldn't spend time with her anymore, though we used to meet in the neighborhood sometimes and talk, it faded away. I wonder if the church brought this up to my Dad or not. I wonder how he felt, maybe he felt betrayed? Maybe he saw how fucked up the drama of the church was and how judgmental and hateful these "followers of God" were? I want to ask him but I'm still scared, considering I hid my wedding day from him until I had already been married for months...