#about persuasion and the lack of consent and being stuck

[monomorphilogical]

Wrestle the devil

He sways with the raise of his voice when he steps into my space with hands spiderwebbing my face, and he sings it like praise but I know better when he says “baby why'd you wanna leave this place?” so I just wait for the misplaced embrace to erase any trace of his fatal traits. 

Jekyll to his Hyde, tired of being tied to his side as he smiles wide with pride as if I’m already his bride, tired of being terrified as we ride wild through the countryside while I swear I could have died, and he sighed at me all unkind, tired of the night where I cried like a child ‘cause he lied and denied.

Once I was so strong willed, girl who’d never feared and girl so fulfilled, and then he appeared and had me killed, with them skilled hands, voice that sinned from a mouth that always grinned until I was left dimmed and thinned, suddenly he’d cleared all of me that I’d built.

He’s got me on a steep slope and I try not to lose hope sighing "God, I’m stuck with his arms around me like rope and too broke to try and provoke" and then God spoke "there’s several ways to wrestle the devil" so I didn’t settle for peril and imagined I levelled the metal barrel to his vessel.

If I wasn’t so damn naive I'd like to believe I would’ve never been deceived by the thief that won’t let me leave, unease in the fall of my knees when I’m begging please while all that he sees is the tease of my pleas, girl to squeeze until she agrees just trying to appease to some sleaze.

But he always misread the dread and instead I bled in bed when he spread my legs, and now I feel sick in the head with only a shred left of what I’d shared, alleged he’d been misled and maybe I left some things unsaid but he still pled and went ahead.

So the time has arrived for the bad guy to die, while everyone turns a blind eye, mine are dry, I won’t cry and I won’t try to pacify the high and mighty line of his mouth gone wry, saying my goodbye with a wide smile, shooting my first bull’s eye.

[retvenkos]

newfound love | t.l.

Little Women - Laurie Laurence x Reader, slight angst, fluff

tw: mentions of a dead mother

word count: 1.9k

A/N: i’m apparently incapable of writing fluff without first mentioning crushing loss, so that’s fun.

prompt: we’re going out in the cold for a walk, and I know you don’t want to get wet, but I’m trying to convince you to make a snow angel with me

The first thing (Y/n) knew was the cold. From the moment they had been born, they knew the icy touch of frigid air and the bite of snow. Winter babies were often babies who didn’t survive, but it had been their mother that didn’t last the night. Their family had mourning during the most dangerous of seasons, snow falling on their cheeks and melting at their hot tears.

Ever since, (Y/n) knew that winters often brought more problems than they were worth - from the cold, to the lack food, to the bouts of sickness that always seemed to follow, and the tight grasp of melancholy that held their heart hostage. Times were hard enough without the troubles of a changing season, and to have winter come early was simply cruel.

Already the winds had changed, and sometimes, when (Y/n) looked around at the people who surrounded them, they thought they could tell who was already blown away.

Laurie had always been rather good at convincing them that it was just worry, but the feeling never left, just gnawed a little less. 

Now, with the war being what it was, there was more at risk, and more that ate at (Y/n), devouring the very root of their being. It hadn’t taken long for Laurie to notice the strength of (Y/n)’s grief, that year, and he had grown intent on trying to show (Y/n) the beauty of winter, even with it’s hardship and death.

“You can’t just have one,” he had said, sounding much older than he usually did. “Everything is good and bad.”

“Are we?”

And Laurie had laughed unabashedly, as though the thought had never crossed his mind. (Y/n) hadn’t admitted it, then, but they resolved that if naivete was the worst of Laurie’s offenses, they could fall in love with all of him - the good and bad.

In his attempts to demonstrate the enchantment of winter (because Laurie was a true romantic, and he did insist winter was enchanting), he had exhausted every effort he could think of.

He had taken (Y/n) out to ice skate, had taken them to a winter dance, and had even stolen some of his grandfather’s seasonal wines for them to share. Although that last one was largely a success, before they were caught, (Y/n) still couldn’t shake the idea that winters brought nothing but misery. It was an instinct set deep in the fibre of their soul; something created the moment they were born, when the ice and cold had stolen them from the warmth of a mother.

It seemed, even with Laurie’s efforts, that there was one inescapable truth about (Y/n)’s experiences:

Winters were bleak and their frosts were long, lingering well after the snow had melted and the sun dared to peek out once more.

When it neared the end of winter, (Y/n) had assumed that Laurie had let his little project go. It had been a while since he asked them about their opinion of the winter months, and while (Y/n) still caught him staring every once in a while, he made no effort to speak of what he was thinking.

On a day when the cold seemed to be letting up, (Y/n) and Laurie made plans to meet the next day. He had some books he wanted them to see, and (Y/n) was in the throes of  a crisis - finding themself unable to oppose Laurie’s good, if often too forward, nature.

When (Y/n) woke to find that it had snowed sometime between night and early morning, they had sighed, but steeled themself to the reality of it. The day prior they had promised Laurie they would go over, and when Laurie had smiled, they had even promised to be in a better mood. Laurie had said that they needn’t hide their feeling for his sake, but (Y/n) put their hands over his and told them they wanted to.

“It won’t be winter for much longer.”

It wouldn’t have been the first time (Y/n) managed to speak too soon.

Bundled in their warmest clothes, (Y/n) had set out in the cold, intent to walk to Laurie’s house, no matter the weather. The snow crunched beneath their boots, and the rising sun made a blinding glare against the white expanse, but they journeyed forth.

Laurie didn’t live too far away from (Y/n). In the summer months, walking to his house was a welcome distraction and the view of the world in full bloom never ceased to amaze them. (Y/n) looked around at the snow covered world around them and tried to appraise it in Laurie’s eyes - what enchanting beauty could be found, when everything was frozen in time?

Perhaps there was something beautiful in the vastness of it - when covered in snow, the world didn’t seem to end at definite horizon. The clouded sky met the snowy land in a sort of haze - one color mixing with the other and never quite distinguishing itself. And the icicles hanging from trees seemed to shine like diamonds when the sunlight hit them, just right. The ice was sharp and deadly, yes, but it was also delicate and easily broken. 

(Y/n) stopped beneath a tree and when they looked back at the way they came, there was almost something poetic in the way their steps had made a trail - like their existence in the world left a mark, no matter how small.

(Y/n) looked down at their shoes, shaking their head at their own thoughts. If only Laurie saw them now - he might think all of this was his doing.

Perhaps it was.

(Y/n) scuffed the fresh layer of snow with the tip of their shoe, revealing some of the grass beneath - a dark green that reminded (Y/n) of the decorations Laurie had insisted on putting up, claiming that the atmosphere alone would be enough to convince them of the beauty of winter.

(Y/n) was careful to admit it, but all of Laurie’s antic - from the most simple to the elaborate - had made them feel better. Most of the time. Laurie’s presence alone was enough to coax happiness out of them, pushing down that melancholy that stubbornly clung to their being.

“(Y/n)!” A voice brought them out of their thoughts, and it took a moment for (Y/n) to realize they had been smiling.

Laurie, wrapped in a thick coat, was running over to them, his expression a blur and hair flying wild. The sun was rising with him and made it hard to focus on his nearing figure for long, but when he was close enough, Laurie blocked the glare with an amusement that seemed to shine brighter than his heavenly competitor.

“I didn’t think you’d come out for a walk.”

(Y/n) brought a hand up to tame his hair. “Well, I did promise you, didn’t I?”

Laurie nodded his head, dark hair flying once more. “I just thought that with the snow, you might have changed your mind.”

“If it was anyone else, I would have.”

“Do I really mean that much to you?”

(Y/n) felt their cheeks get hot and burrowed their face deeper into their scarf. Laurie hummed in acknowledgement, neither triumphantly nor disappointedly, just markedly.

“You wouldn’t be admiring the weather, would you? I was trying to compose a poem on my way here - something that would capture the essence of a final snow.” (Y/n) scoffed and Laurie’s teasing eyes caught their gaze. “Perhaps you have a line or two to add?”

“Maybe,” (Y/n) conceded, “but only if I can write it somewhere warm - preferably in front of a fireplace, with those books you mentioned.”

The two set off in the way Laurie had come, (Y/n) making it a point to step in his footprints from earlier so that they might avoid getting wet anymore than they already were. Despite having consented to the idea that the winter might be slightly beautiful, in its own, haunting sort of way, (Y/n) was still averse to the cold, and there was nothing worse than the kind of cold that stuck to your skin after getting your clothes wet.

It was when Laurie’s house was in sight, and closer to them than the distant horizon, that snow started to fall from the heavens, sprinkling through Laurie’s dark hair and settling on his scarf. A snowflake fell on (Y/n)’s eyelashes, and they took in a breath, preparing to sigh, but stopped themself short. Laurie looked at them from the corner of his eye, just barely managing to suppress a smile from creeping onto his lips; there was affection in his eyes, though, sweet and pure.

“(Y/n),” Laurie grabbed their hands and the party in question turned to them, snow collecting on their head like the soft down of a duckling. “Do something for me?”

“What?”

Laurie fell back into the snow, letting go of (Y/n)’s hands as he dropped so that he wouldn’t pull them with him. He fell back with an “oof” that seemed to knock the wind out of him, but he quickly recovered started moving his arms and legs, fanning outwards to create a snow angel.

(Y/n) scoffed and shook their head. “Laurie, you’re going to get all wet.”

“And so will you, when you join me.” Laurie’s smile was convincing, making up for his lack of persuasion skills. (Y/n) was able to resist, if only barely.

They opened their mouth to refuse, but no sound came. Laurie seemed to notice the falter in their resolve because he held out a hand, sitting up carefully as to not ruin his angel.

“The house is right there. We’ll be inside before the cold seeps through the layers of your clothes.” 

“Is this another attempt of yours to get me to fall in love with winter?”

Laurie smiled devilishly, despite what he had created just moments before. “You’ve already fallen in love. My schemes are over.”

Laurie was right - (Y/n) had fallen in love - but whether it was with winter or the boy who pointed out it’s beauty, was hard to tell. Maybe a snow angel would help them decide...

“Fine, for you.”

A moment after the words left their lips, Laurie reached for their hand and tugged them downward, pulling (Y/n) with such a force that they stumbled in their fall and landed half on top of him. (Y/n) shrieked and screwed their eyes tight.

They were awfully close, when dared to peek. Lauries cheeks were flushed scarlet, although whether it was from the cold or their position was hard to determine. (Y/n) shuffled away and lay down in the snow, hesitating before putting their hands out. Laurie lay back down, a little breathless, and the two stared at each other for a moment before laughing, not minding the wet snow beneath them.

(Y/n) eventually pushed their arms out and made their frozen angel, their fingers grazing Laurie’s arm. 

When the two stood up, they both looked at their creations with a critical eye.

“We ruined those pretty well, don’t you think?” 

“You were the one who pulled me down!”

“You didn’t give yourself enough space to make wings.”

(Y/n) and Laurie looked at the other challengingly before breaking out in chuckles.

“Let’s get inside. I wouldn’t want your newfound love of winter spoiled by catching a cold.”

(Y/n) nodded, but it wasn’t until they were sitting in front of a fire, books between them and blankets draped over their shoulders, that (Y/n) told Laurie, in just above a whisper, that it wasn’t winter they had discovered their affections for.

[mordigen]

Wicca is a Sex Cult - you won’t change my mind. Pt 1

I have always had a since of unbelonging and curiosity my entire life. So, I’d like to believe that my ‘path’ in the craft has been eternal. But, if we are scrutinizing - I guess you could say it didn’t really begin until I was about 9-11 years olde. Can’t remember the precise age or year - just how it went, and my friends that started on that path with me. When you are olde enough to start developing your own likes and interests, olde enough to start having questions about anything and everything in the world around you - and young enough to have complete reckless abandon and lack of frontal lobe development to indulge such questions, curiosities, and probably otherwise, not the *smartest* of explorations. But boy, did we make some memories. 

But this was also the time when only the ~rich folk~ had internet in their homes, where the rest of us were reduced to the free 10 minute sessions at the public library which came with the intrusive screaming of dial-up, met with properly humiliating glares of disgust and disapproval that was just too much for a bunch of pre-teens to handle. So what other options could were we possibly left with? Well, if you had guessed the idle corners of book stores’ New Age  sections, you would be correct, friends! And what else could be found on New Age shelves in the early-mid 90s but Wicca in all it’s Llewelyn glory?? Nothing, friends. The answer is nothing, unless you hoped to find a few odd horoscopes, a token copy of the Necronomicon stashed away behind some UFO conspiracies from the O.G. David Childress & Co. But if you were looking for anything spiritual in nature beyond the status quo puritan American heritage? Nothing, friends - except Wicca. 

So, needless to say - this was my only experience at this age with anything magically or pagan inclined whatsoever. Now, I came from an immigrant family, lived in an immigrant neighborhood, went to an international school with friends of immigrant families so we were well versed in stories of other customs and cultures - but always in an intangible way. Just stories, things of fictions or long-dead ancestors which no longer exist. I personally came from a mixed-bag family, Irish Pagan, Southern Methodist, strict Catholic, Native Shamans. So religious discussions were always heated topics of animosity - so people just didn’t  talk about it, either out of spite and grudges, or just to avoid constant fights. So though I had family that participated in pagan rites, they didn’t talk about them - and they certainly weren’t teaching me anything (not yet anyhow, more on that later) So these books we perused, for hours without buying to the chagrin of the bookstore employees, were really the only introduction and information we had to go on with regards to anything spiritually related to the magical or to the pagan - and we took it as gospel, as we didn’t know any better - and I simply thought this was the modern term used today for a whole vast array of pagans and witchcraft followers. I thought it was a modern day term for a very olde religion. That is what I truly believed for years, especially with my Irish background - and the very heavy Irish influence in Gardener’s foundation of his religion, I felt like YES - I had finally found what had been calling to me for all these years. This was right, this is what I was meant to be - as a lot of the tales he recounted I had remembered being told, or reading, in my families books and stories my entire life. I recognized the names. I knew what “feast days” he was referring to - this was my blood, my heritage - and this MUST be what my family and ancestors had been following - and this MUST have been why I felt so out of place for so long : I was meant to find this.

 It was awe inspiring, it was liberating. It was exhilarating.....until it wasn’t. One day, after restocking the shelves with a new shipment, did we stumble across the works of Gardener himself. Wherein book after book, chapter after chapter, detailed the use of ‘Skyclad’ rituals and initiations through the ‘Great Rite’ and meditation through the ‘Great Rite’, and visualization through the ‘Great Rite’, and energy rising through the ‘Great Right’  and just about anything and everything through the use of the ‘Great Rite’ or some incarnation thereof. In the particular books that we read, there were even specific instructions on how to handle ritual situations involving young children and minors, with or without parental involvement, and the importance of secrecy.  

This should be a red flag to anyone with a brain cell. 

But, for some reason, it wasn’t. My friends ate it up - the fact that they were being referred to, and treated, as adults and equals. What is more enticing to a bunch of hormonal preteens/teens who are certain they know everything, than to be treated as the adults they are very certain they absolutely are?  We even had intent debates and discussions with each other where we defended that it was completely respectable and not at all inappropriate. We hung on the language they used as proof that, see, they are not creeps - it is at our discretion, and intimacy level. Using words to be extremely specific about consent, and age, and detailing liaisons between mentors/students and members/High Priest(ess)es to not take place until they are of age and to be very mindful of that at all times. It felt all sorts of wrong to me at the time, but I was in complete denial - it just felt uncomfortable because it was new to me. We made arguments that our very strict, closed-minded Christian influence was why it felt uncomfortable. 

As a now wizened adult, not only is this “language” and position the very same argument pedophiles use to skirt the law and rationalize their actions as simple fantasies and free speech, but there is the bigger issue of the “secrecy”. Officially, on record, they are pillars of responsibility and advocates or legal boundaries and sensitivity -- but behind closed doors, don’t ask, don’t tell. Whilst making a not-so-subtle point to acknowledge all the legal boundaries, in the same breath they advocate the freewill, and consent of the member - regardless of age. Making the not so intuitive leap to assume that age is an afterthought if the member should be a willing participant. Nonevermind to the impressionable mind and intimidation or persuasion a younger member may be susceptible to - if they agree, then whose to stop them? Using the guise of secrecy as an underlying tenet of the faith. They aren’t “hiding” anything if their rites and rituals and teachings are just an understood secret knowledge only bestowed upon the most worthy individuals - or even that they are protecting the sanctity of such important rites by not publicly discussing them all willy-nilly. Nor do they bat an eye on the fact that presenting these rites and secrecy in such a prestigious manner would lead a younger audience even more inclined to actively participate, AND more inclined to also stayed shut-lipped about it -- as why wouldn’t they?? They are special. They are the chosen ones. They aren’t like everyone else - not just ANYONE would be allowed this opportunity. These are classic grooming techniques, that you can find examples of in the cases of sex offenders and sexual predators all over the world, let alone key tenets seen in nearly every other publicly recognized sex cults - so why is Wicca the exception?

What bothers me more looking back at these discussions we had is that they were completely unprovoked -- nobody had challenged us, nobody had warned us that this sounds fucked up - no one had ever tried to stop us or steer us away.  This was just our knee-jerk topic of discussion and reaction to what we CHOSE to follow. We knew from the get-go that there was something shady going on, our gut and our subconscious was screaming at us to not be those dumb little girls....and we were desperately trying to rationalize it to ourselves without realizing that’s exactly what we were doing. And our rationalized denial won - for a while, at least. 

I started straying more and more from that path ever since that day. But, as this was all I had at my disposal to build my world on, I only strayed so far. Other paths still seemed like the works of myth and legend - not “real” beliefs - so I stayed the course, just tended to keep my mouth shut and smiled and nodded when such debates continued on amongst friends. Eventually, several of my friends found local covens to join. They were sweet, and innocent. They opened up certain meetings and classes to new members as a sort of “tiral” phase - to see if it were a right fit. One of my friends in particular went to many of these. She came back with all these fantastic stories and experiences. Learned so many cool new things, and was really growing and developing and learning in the craft. She now had her very own mentor, and I found myself seething in envy. They were all growing and flourishing, and I was left in the dark with my nose stuck in books just dabbling. So I gave in, and went to some meetings with her. They were innocent and informative enough - meditation lessons, a fun Ostara celebration. Sermons on the Summerland and origin stories, God-specific lessons so we could learn all the various pantheon and what they represented. Workshops on creating candle spells, and how to properly sage and cleanse a space. We did yoga. We danced, we played instruments and tries to get into a trance-state. We had potlucks. It was fun.  And so we decided to join.....

(...continued)

[nickelkeep]

SPN Femslash February Master Post

Thank you to everyone who liked, reblogged, kudoed and commented on my stories this month. My confidence has skyrocketed, and I feel like I’m back on my way to being the writer I was before FF.net tore me down.

If you want to just see the series I put together, it’s available on AO3 here. Otherwise, you can see the full list below!

#1 – Time after Time – Favorite ship – Jody x Donna Rating: G Jody is having a rare night alone at home. It's something that she normally enjoys, but she's finding herself rather lonely for once.

#2 – Silver and Sunset – Sunset – Jody x Donna Rating: G Jody and Donna get to spend some time together at Donna's place, away from the girls, their jobs, and most of all hunting... right?

#3 – Fire and Brimstone – Favorite ship with an antagonist(s) – Lilith x Ruby Rating: Explicit TW: Dubious Consent, Consensual Non-Consent Ruby has been captured by Lilith's Minions. How far will Lilith go to get the information she needs?

#4 – Sage and Luck – Magic – Rowena x Charlie Rating: G Charlie and Rowena are helping the brothers with a case when Charlie hits a dead end and a headache. Rowena offers her assistance. #5 – Treble and Ink – Alternate Universe – Pamela x Charlie Rating: G A new shop has moved in across the street from Charlie's Comic Book shop. Dean convinces her to go check it out. 

#6 – Cypress and Pomegranates – Favorite ship with a woman of color – Billie x Rowena Rating: G Spoiler Warnings for Season 14 Rowena has been looking for an answer to Dean's problem. Frustrated at a lack of a solution, she lashes out.

#7 – Secrets and Flowers – Flowers – Jody x Donna Rating: G Donna suggests that Jody picks up Gardening as a hobby. She agrees, but only because Donna says that she'll pick out the flowers for the garden. Donna picks out a unique grouping of flowers that Jody gets to decode.

#8 – Push and Pull – Lyrics inspired – Jody x Donna Rating: Teen Jody and Donna take a rare girl's night out to a dance club. Jody isn't the biggest fan of dancing, until Donna shows her why she should be.

#9 – Emerald and Gold – Favorite ship with a character that’s only been in one episode – Charlie x Dorothy Rating: Teen Warning: Canon-Typical Violence After the War in Oz, Charlie volunteered to go capture her ID. She figured that it wouldn't be a walk in the park, but what happened was anything but expected.

#10 – Lightning and Bottles – Storm – Charlie x Dorothy Rating: G Charlie experiences her first storm in Oz, and Dorothy teaches her a little bit about the weather. #11 – Pride and Revelation – Pride – Charlie x Dorothy Rating: G Charlie is in love with her roommate, Dorothy, but the feeling isn't mutual. Things get a little weird when Dorothy asks if she can tag along to Pride.

#12 – Sight and Circumstance – Favorite ship with a reaper(s) – Tessa x Pamela Rating: Teen TW: Attempted Non-Con Every Reaper is Assigned a Medium. That Medium helps the Reaper with difficult souls that don't want to cross. In return, the Reaper protects the Medium. Pamela will always remember how she met her medium. 

#13 – Lipstick and Liquor – Longing – Claire x Kaia Rating: Teen TW: Alcohol Use/Abuse It's been almost a year since Kaia's death and Claire is still missing her and longing for her.

#14 – Leftovers and Valentines – Valentine’s Day – Jody x Donna Rating: Teen Donna doesn't like the fact that she's alone for Valentine's Day, but won't admit it. So she covers by working a Double so others can have the day off. #15 – Hunter and Witch –  An unusual couple – Mary x Rowena Rating: G Mary doesn't like how close her boys are to Rowena. She doesn't understand why it gets under her skin, until the witch starts to get under hers.

#16 – Before and Always – Favorite OT3 or OT+ – Charlie x Dorothy x Gilda Rating: G Charlie finds out that her two best friends are dating. While they're explaining what's going on, Charlie reminisces about their past.

#17 – Timing and Opportunities – Inspired by a quote – Jody x Donna Rating: G Donna never realized that Jody would change her life in such a way. Donna's memories of how she and Jody went from Friends to Lovers.

#18 – Poppies and Mahonia – Free Day – Charlie x Dorothy Rating: G More Tales from Charlie and Dorothy's time in Oz. Dorothy finds Charlie's curiosity adorable and explains how some of things work in Oz.

#19 – Serpents and Grace – Favorite ship with an angel(s) – Anna x Ruby Rating: G Anna is approached by a demon with information that the Angels should have. The introduction to questioning her superiors is a lesson she didn't expect.

#20 – Crimson and Cracks – Red – Charlie x Rowena Rating: G Rowena is holding the rift open for the Winchesters to come back from the Alternate Universe. The last thing she expects is to see the face that has been haunting her dreams. #21 – Visits and Bribes – “They’ve never met but that doesn’t stop me from shipping them.” – Charlie x Pamela Rating: Teen Dean, Sam, and Charlie have hit a roadblock on their case. Charlie suggests calling in the medium that the brothers knows. They do, but the medium needs a little persuasion to make the trip.

#22 – File and Agency – Crossover – Charlie x Scully (X-Files) Rating: Explicit Agent Scully is stuck on desk duty when another FBI agent comes in demanding what should be an unknown file.

#23 – Judge and Executioner – Favorite ship with a demon(s) – Anna x Ruby Rating: G Anna continues to meet with the demon who provided information about the start of the apocalypse. Continuation of Serpents and Grace

#24 – Run and Gun – Power couple – Jody x Donna Rating: Teen Jody and Donna are lounging around when Sam calls them and asks them to take on a hunt.

#25 – Stars and Wishes – Favorite ship with a hunter(s) – Charlie x Dorothy Rating: G More tales from Charlie's time in Oz with Dorothy #26 – Magic and Technology – Opposites attract – Charlie x Rowena Rating: G Rowena is brought to the Men of Letters Bunker for help translating a spell. She meets Charlie for the first time, and they don't exactly see eye to eye.

#27 – Salt and Burn – Favorite ship with one of the Wayward Sisters – Jody x Donna Rating: G A quick snippet in to how Jody and Donna work on a hunt together.

#28 – Death and Taxes – Free Day –  Anna x Ruby Rating: G Third Part of the Serpents and Grace story. Anna and the Demon continue meeting, and consequences catch up to them.

[schlemicl]

“ IF YOU’RE EXPECTING A HAPPY ENDING...”

She had been persistent, she always was in her own way. In a sense, it was also one of the things that drew Out into her… aside from the fact she prevented him from being arrested with handcuffs. “So, care to tell me why you were stealing large quantities of gold from the prime minister of the LLC committee?” Her voice was calm but inquisitive, as she held a pack of papers, straightened them and then placed them down, looking at him with a similar emotion. “Um…” He started, it had been half a year since his escape of Saul’s grasp and talking to a human, or an elf, in this case, was still foreign to him, that or he didn’t like it. Speaking too much could reveal too much which could lead to betrayal. Something he hated and didn’t fancy at all. However, there were times where he had to take up a job or two to access black market deals, gain money for his survival or worst of all find purpose as a thief, murderer, and any other criminal background. He was versatile like that and the Voidwalker form helped his dark parts of work, doing as it pleased when he demanded more money than what his contracts had and when they wouldn’t pay, kill them with a simple slice of his blade. Out saw it as a lesson, one they would never forget. It was their fault for being too reckless and not knowing a poor man’s demands that needed to be met. “Well?” She spoke, leaning backward to retrieve the clipboard from the gray floor. They had taken him to an investigation room, where she was ordered to question him and his crimes. He didn’t know it but there had been a bounty on his head for sometime but the title of ‘black-eyed bastard’ had been the only one given to him, nothing else, and it was only distributed in the slums where it was easier to murder someone and get away with it than steal a sack of bread in the business area of the LLC. Seemed he made a name without even realizing it. Not that he cared much for fame, he wasn’t big on attention.

Out wondered what his charges were exactly and the only way to figure that was to answer her questions before he could ask his own. A trade-off as he saw it, but to her, it wouldn’t go like that. She’d never tell him what he had been convicted of. Later he would, however not from her. “Come on I know being deprived of speaking for a few minutes is nerve-wracking but still it’s not the end of the world. I know a lot of big bad people out there and you aren’t even close to them.” His eyebrows rose in surprise at her comments laced with sarcasm, did she see this as a joke? Offense filled abyssal eyes, opening his mouth to protest before she cut him off. “I don’t want to hear anything from the notorious ‘black eyed bastard’ until I get my answers. Now, tell me why were you stealing from the prime minister?” Evading her previous sarcasm with work, interesting. He kept her green stare for what seemed like ages before cutting off the contact, she was a simple prick on his side and once he escaped from this hell he’d be back to his contracts. “I have a right not to speak my reasons.” “Yeah, but that right doesn’t apply to serial killers who work for food.” Almost instantly a tension filled the room, making it seem as if the air was thicker and making it harder for him to breath. A spark lit in his eyes, something he prefers to hide. No one got the better of him and he wasn’t about to let an elf get away with his weakness of showing emotion. Instead, he shook his head, a long sigh drawing from his scarred lips. This was useless, if only he had been stealthier than he wouldn’t be in this mess. Curse Oren should’ve never picked up the rumors from the damned beggar. Out would make sure to pay him a visit once he was free from the UPR’s grip. “I was desperate,” he harshly spoke, narrowing dark eyes to the female across from him as she wrote it down. “Hmm, go on…” His eyebrows knitted, clearing his throat. “Are you writing this down?” She nodded, flipping the clipboard over to show him the lined paper and the simply written notes she already had.

> Rude.

> Desperate ( sheez he sounds like a glorified HOLOdrama. )

> Worst of all, a serial killer who kills for bread. Jeez, he was right on the desperate part.

A snarl lifted his lip, dark eyes glaring at her with a desire to leave. “Don’t, my words are private.” She shook the pencil his way, flipping it back to scribble some more nonsense. “Yeah, I get it but I need this as evidence.” He rolled his eyes, “And calling me a glorified HOLOdrama is evidence?” A shrug of her shoulders was his answer as she moved her pencil around some more, “continue.” He sighed again, crossing his arms unamused. “Fine, as you know where my home is and looking through it without my consent, you must know I lack a wealth of money and desire to steal from the rich and live as a poor man picking up sketchy jobs, doing anything for a few more credits. I stole from the prime minister because I needed the money to get me a decent meal. I can’t remember the last time I’ve had a full meal and the last time I did eat were a few pieces of bread and a can of beans. No matter how hard I try it seems to be difficult to get rid of my status as poor or move from the LLC and actually find a purpose in this life of misery and hate. If you’re expecting a happy ending, you’ll be sorely disappointed because you’ll get nowhere in life when you live in the LLC or in the slums. You’ll forever be stuck living with your past pains and suffer like rest of them. You wanna know why I stole from the big fat guy sitting in a chair? Because I desire to have a better purpose in life. I don’t want to be someone’s puppet for eleven years and then subjected to hide in the slums and live as a criminal for my whole life. I want a job, I want a home and most of all I want a will to live. Not just for survival.” It seemed he had rendered the elf speechless. Her green eyes were cast to the clipboard and the half-sentence she had written. The grip on her pencil tightened as she slowly looked up to him. 

“Wow, that’s a lot of motivation, I haven’t heard in awhile.” Was her voice cracking? His expression morphed slowly to relax as he could hear her own sigh. “I knew the poor part but what else were you saying eleven years… as a slave?” Her eyebrows rose in concern, green eyes looking into black ones trying to see if he was lying or for any false information but the only thing she could see was hurt, pain and the intense look of fear. “Please, I don’t like talking about it… I don’t want to go back...” Out trailed off, his gaze snapping away from her’s and down to the floor. She could barely hear him whisper, the bravado of a strong criminal seeming to fall as if it was an act, a play that most convicts play until the end, but he was different. He was speaking the truth. “So the prime minister was just someone that was actively helping you out without him actually realizing that he was helping you by having so much wealth that you could steal?” The criminal nodded, keeping his gaze lowered in what seemed like disappointment, shame maybe? ( Why was he being shameful now? Was it because he finally realized how silly this case was, or for a whole other reason? ) “Okay, so that’s the full report.” She began to stand not knowing if it was such a good idea to leave, he seemed serious in distraught. But it was her duty… she had to. “Stay here, I’m going to give this to my CO and see what he has to say in all of this and then discuss your trial and sentence.” His head snapped up to look at her, black eyes seemed to be glossed over as if tears were burning in his eyes. “I’ll be back.” 

As she left little did Out know that this was the beginning of a wonderful relationship with her and the UPR. Thanks to her persuasive and more natural tongue she was able to change a few minds of her comrades and take the poor and broken man as their new spy or as he liked to be called The Unwanted.