#he needs to live according to his own personal whims and desires.)

[sirenofthegreenbanks]

deeply enjoy that the novel can also be read as a commentary on the fallacy of information. we have zzs as the main narrator who adds to this nuance by being a former spymaster and leader of a bunch of proficient investigators. hes very intimate with the process of verification of information, and even his vast databank of knowledge and his abilities of filtering and sorting the "true" from the "fake" is tested throughout the novel through many instances and events. its especially interesting because he makes a major mistake, almost from the very start, that he resolves only after a very long time, and only after overcoming personal weaknesses. his personal weakness at recognizing truth vs decept reveals itself in the inability to meet personal events with a human perspective; he is basically functioning like a person with two lives, and most of the time, he at least acts as if he is regarding wkx, suspected master of ghosts, from the professional business grounds of the retired leader of shadows rather than from the perspective of a person with an adventurous life and wishes of his own. in this lies the danger to misinterpret and to refuse to confront what is truly going on. if zzs cant 'find' the "true reason" for the ghost master following his humble retired self, he is going to do his utmost to make up one (on the basis of his personal and professional experience with such situations), instead of considering at least once the admittedly unlikely chance that wkx might like him and is even deeply sincere about him. this doesnt signal anything less but that we, as the reader, should not irrevocably trust even the one person who is in most stories the most trustworthy; the main narrator. instead, we are advised to reserve us the right to doubt and think for ourself, to look critically upon even zzs, which only circles back to the novel's theme of the fallacy of information. it even lends to the novel's dialogue with the human right to form your own opinion and your own thoughts and come to your own conclusions, no matter how much they might diverge from norm or mainstream or traditions, and no matter how tempting it might be not to.

[religion-is-a-mental-illness]

By: Eva Kurilova

Published: Jan 15, 2024

In 1943, C.S. Lewis delivered a series of lectures at King’s College that warned about the erosion of moral values and the rise of relativism, which he believed would lead to humanity’s ruin. These thought-provoking lectures were later compiled into The Abolition of Man, a book that has since been acknowledged as one of the most significant and influential works of the 20th century.

Today, I believe society has reached the very crossroads Lewis forewarned—an era of subjectivism where concepts of “right” and “wrong” have lost their objective anchor and are instead dictated by personal whims and desires. A striking manifestation of this shift is evident in the construction of an oppression hierarchy. This hierarchy asserts that moral judgements in any given situation is not determined by external, consistent values for judging behavior, but rather by the fluctuating perceptions of who is deemed “privileged” and who is deemed “oppressed.”

In his lectures, Lewis emphasized the importance of universal virtues in guiding our morality. He referred to these virtues, which he believed to be found universally across humanity, as the “Tao.” Originating from Chinese philosophy, the Tao represents a way of life in harmony with the world. Discerning the right way to live, according to Lewis, requires wisdom and character. He describes the Tao as “the doctrine of objective value, the belief that certain attitudes are really true, and others really false, to the kind of thing the universe is and the kind of things we are.”

Regrettably, Lewis observed a decline in such wisdom and integrity among the youth of his era, leading to what he termed “men without chests”—individuals devoid of honor and virtue. His critique was not about dictating the specifics of what is “right,” “moral,” and “good.” Rather, Lewis lamented that we have lost any sense that the right, moral, and good exist at all, writing: “Until quite modern times all teachers and even all men believed the universe to be such that certain emotional reactions on our part could be either congruous or incongruous to it.”

To illustrate his point, Lewis began his first lecture with an anecdote about the English poet Samuel Coleridge. Coleridge was once gazing at his favorite waterfall when two tourists came along, one calling the waterfall “sublime” and the other as merely “pretty.” Coleridge approved the former judgment and rejected the latter.

Lewis’ intention was not to dictate perceptions of waterfalls. His concern was that, when the story was referenced in a “little book on English” for schoolchildren that he called The Green Book, the authors declared that the tourist who called the waterfall “sublime” was merely making a statement about his own feelings. This, according to Lewis, exemplified a troubling shift away from recognizing objective beauty and value.

This sly inward turn toward subjectivity, and away from the belief that certain emotional responses can be congruous or incongruous with reality, deeply troubled Lewis. He feared this trend would lead to “men without chests.” He posited that we would demand from such men qualities like drive and self-sacrifice while relegating virtues like honor and patriotism to mere feeling and opinion. He uses the example of a Roman father telling his son that it is a “sweet and seemly thing to die for his country.” The authors of The Green Book, however, would feel the need to debunk this sentiment the same way they debunked the idea that the sublime nature of the waterfall has any reality outside of the tourist’s own feelings.

Lewis further illustrated his point using a humorous example of himself and his attitude toward children. He admitted, “I myself do not enjoy the society of small children: because I speak from within the Tao I recognize this as a defect in myself—just as a man may have to recognize that he is tone deaf or colour blind.”

Rather than trying to justify the fact that he doesn’t enjoy the company of children by forcing the rest of society to see it as a virtue, Lewis acknowledged it as a personal shortcoming, recognizing that we should value spending time with children. However, it often seems today that people do the opposite: they argue that what they personally like is valuable and what they personally dislike is not. And this is exactly what Lewis saw coming.

When we move away from the Tao and the idea that certain attitudes toward the world are really true and good, we risk evaluating the world solely through the lens of desire and emotional impulses. “When all that says ‘It is good’ has been debunked,” says Lewis, “what says ‘I want’ remains.” He further remarks: “Those who stand outside all judgements of value cannot have any ground for preferring one of their own impulses to another except the emotional strength of that impulse.”

I believe Lewis correctly predicted humanity’s moral trajectory, which is highly concerning considering where he said it would lead. What I don’t think he could have predicted, however, was that one of the major ways that subjective and relativistic morality would manifest was through the oppression hierarchy.

Based on identity characteristics like race, sex, sexuality, and “gender identity,” the oppression hierarchy slots individuals into a stack that ranges from most privileged to most oppressed. At the top, you will invariably find “cis” straight white men. At the bottom, you will likely find black “trans” women, often bearing additional marginalized identities like “disabled.”

The morality underpinning this hierarchy is inherently relativistic. It contends that those lower in the stack are incapable of wrongdoing toward those above. For example, you might have heard that non-white people can’t be racist against white people because they are more oppressed as a group on the basis of race. It is also reflected in the idea that there is no such thing as misandry because under patriarchy men as a class oppress women as a class. This ideology further manifests in attitudes that trivialize or even endorse acts like shoplifting, justified by the belief that capitalism is an “oppressive” system.

Gone is the traditional notion of treating others equally and recognizing antisocial behaviors like theft as inherently wrong. According to this new moral framework, any attitude or action directed against an “oppressor”–be it an individual or a system–is deemed justifiable.

This new morality and its value calculus is also prevalent in contemporary gender ideology. It becomes particularly apparent in how trans-identifying individuals demand privileges that clash with the rights of women. Gender self-identification is a disaster for women’s sports, women’s prisons, and women’s private spaces, but it doesn’t matter because “trans” people are considered oppressed, and “cis” people the oppressors. As a result, trans-identified men can therefore demand anything at the expense of women’s rights, and women who refuse or fail to swiftly comply with every demand are branded as hateful.

Oppression stack-based morality is why trans rights activists feel entitled to call for violence, rape, and death against so-called “transphobes” who disagree with them, and why they receive no real pushback from within their communities. It’s why they feel emboldened enough to hold up signs that say “decapitate TERFs” and to show up at women’s rights events with fake guillotines. It’s why they regularly jump to the defense of male pedophiles, rapists, and murderers who seek transfer to women’s prisons. Critics of such transfers are often accused of bigotry and “misgendering.”

No matter what, the “trans” person in any scenario is viewed as inherently oppressed and incapable of wrongdoing, especially against those deemed as oppressors.

A case in point is Audrey Hale, a mass shooter who killed three adults and three nine-year-old children at a private Christian school in Tennessee. Because she identified as a transgender man, activists quickly slammed media outlets for “misgendering” Hale by referring to her using female pronouns. CNN and The New York Times even issued “corrections,” essentially capitulating to the preferences of a mass child killer. Prominent transgender activist Eli Erlick even called the school a “right-wing institution” and asserted, without evidence, that Hale had been “abused” there.

However, perhaps the most striking illustration of this new morality at play was seen in the response to the Hamas terror attack against Israel on October 7, 2023. Despite the heinous nature of the atrocities committed on that day, a disturbing number of people praised the actions of the terrorists. The moral calculus has been grim. The terrorists were rebranded as oppressed freedom fighters. Consequently, their actions, regardless of how morally reprehensible, were often rationalized or justified because they were perceived as acts against “oppressors.” In this context, the conventional condemnation of acts like mass rape and murder has become contingent on the relative privilege of the perpetrator and the victim. Then, a terrorist attack is no longer a terrorist attack.

While Lewis couldn’t have foreseen the specific outcomes of a shift towards subjective morality, nor the intricate oppression hierarchy that now informs societal judgments of “right” and “wrong,” he was nevertheless correct in identifying that it would be based on nothing more than personal desires and emotional impulses. The supposed objectivity of the oppression hierarchy is, in reality, a façade. The allocation of characteristics within this hierarchy, and the corresponding levels of privilege or disadvantage they confer, are seldom reflective of real-life circumstances. Instead, they are dictated by prevailing social and political trends, and the caprices of those in power. The clearest evidence of this is that a straight man instantly plummets from a position of unrivaled privilege to one of significant oppression simply by donning a dress and wig.

But what implications does this perspective have for society? Lewis wasn’t optimistic. He argued that discarding traditional values in favor of self-crafted ones, based on whims and impulses, does not lead to emancipation. On the contrary, it subjects us to what he termed “Conditioners”—those who “cut out all posterity in what shape they please.” These Conditioners are, in my opinion, analogous to those making the decisions about where individuals sit on the oppression hierarchy. “They produce conscience,” Lewis says, “and decide what kind of conscience they will produce.” In this manner, the Conditioners effectively conquer human nature. However:

At the moment, then, of Man’s victory over Nature, we find the whole human race subjected to some individual men, and those individuals subjected to that in themselves which is purely ‘natural’—to their irrational impulses. Nature, untrammelled by values, rules the Conditioners and, through them, all humanity. Man’s conquest of Nature turns out, in the moment of its consummation, to be Nature’s conquest of Man.

Lewis feared that a shift toward subjective and relativistic morality might inexorably lead to totalitarianism, with those in power guided by their basest instincts. Reflecting on the latter part of the 20th century, it appears his fears were not unfounded. At the time of his observations, such moral perspectives were already shaping the ideologies of fascism and communism. Despite his cautionary words and the unfolding of events that mirrored his warnings, this new morality continued to proliferate throughout society and it is now the guiding star of radical progressives.

While I favor Lewis’ view, I’m not arguing that everyone must necessarily agree with the concept of objective morality. I’m sure many lively debates could spring up around his words, and no doubt many have. I know numerous people with strong morals and values who might insist that they came to those values rationally, that we don’t need to rely on tradition, and that morals aren’t necessarily objective. I also know that some would say evolutionary biology has played a significant role in shaping moral attitudes, a view I accept, though I believe is not the sole factor at play.

Yet, I hope we can collectively recognize the dangers inherent in the other view—that right and wrong should be judged only according to the emotional intensity of a given impulse. This new morality has created an oppression hierarchy, where the moral standing of an action hinges entirely on the relative oppression or privilege of the involved parties. This perspective has led us to a precipice where, alarmingly, an act as heinous as cold-blooded murder might not be deemed wrong if perpetrated by someone from an oppressed group against an individual from a perceived oppressor group.

Do not let yourself become conditioned to accept this.

[sere-ness-ima]

HWS Poland during the partitions: the full timeline (1795-1918) [1]

...but it will take a long time to write, so I will divide the infodump into parts. Haha, divide into parts, get it?? Because Polan–

<concering muffled noises>

...this part contains the following topics:

[1.1] Why offing Poland during the partitions is a terrible move [an essay-flavoured rant]

[1.2] What I'm going for in shaping my hetalia universe [a short boring disclaimer]

[1.3] TL;DR Feliks' timeline 1795-1918 [because I'm not a clickbait type]

The actual essays [nessays?] detailing the events and providing contexts and sources will come later, and hell am I excited for it.

[1.1] An introduction

I’ve been sitting on it for almost 10 years at this point, which is a lot of time to sacrifice to a fictional character’s fictional biography. And I’m speaking about 123 years of Poland’s geographical non-existence, which even my fellow Polish fanfiction writers often skip by unaliving him and only letting him resurrect in 1918 after regaining independence, with cool phoenix metaphors and a jazzy remix of *Poland is not lost yet*.

It's not that I hate this concept utterly, because I have even attempted to write a fic just like that once. I couldn’t resist the picture of Poland, the snobby, aristocratic, moustached, hot-headed peasant-owner from the end of the 18th century, suddenly waking up in the middle of barely-post-WW1 turmoil, with the world having changed SO MUCH since the times he last remembers that he’s like a caveman released from a block of ice in the middle of modern-day New York. Oh, yeah, and his job is to rebuild a country which he lost- wait, he losT FOR HOW LONG???

Yeah, I like the idea. It would be a fascinating comedy plot. But let’s be realistic. The clue of all my rambling is, Poland just before the partitions and just after the partitions are two completely different people, but there’s a road between them, a story of Feliks changing drastically over the 123 years, a story which is absolutely delightful, emotional, hilarious, and honestly the director of The World should get an award for it, because oh boy does Feliks’ character arc HIT HARD. (And I’m not the director here. I’m the film editor, at best. Just choosing the best scenes to bring to light based on a personal whim.)

[1.2] A disclaimer

My hetalia universe works on my own custom-made rules. I only touch canon when convenient, otherwise ignoring it completely. My rule of thumb is to make the concept of personifications as realistic as possible and to bring the “Ness Cinematic Universe” as close to a normal history textbook as possible [some people are just built different, like and subscribe if your goal is to write a history textbook of a fic too!]. I strive for historical accuracy here – but the Rule of Cool takes priority when needed, because I also strive for whatever my heart desires. All my stuff are of the “public hetalia” variety unless stated otherwise. It means the personifications and their identity are usually public knowledge and their existence is a natural phenomenon in-universe.

[1.3] HWS Poland's 19th century timeline: TL;DR

(i'm about to elaborate on each point from this list in my future posts.)

1795 – the third partition. According to their earlier agreement, Russia takes Lithuania east and Prussia takes Poland west.

1796 – Poland moves through Saxony to France… 1797 – ...and from France to Italy, where the famous Polish legions in Italy are starting to form.

1797-1814 – Poland’s Great Napoleonic Adventure :) [to be elaborated on]

1815 – the previous agreements between the partitioning sides get nullified at the congress of Vienna. Feliks has no other way but to agree on a personal union with Russia under certain conditions.

1815-1830 – he then lives a mildly peaceful life in Warsaw, but the conditions aren’t met and the tsar’s brother is unbearable.

1830-31 – Feliks revolts in Warsaw.

1831-37 – prison time (Schliesselburg fortress, Russia)

1838-1848 – Poland’s Great Emigration :) (his mental health rapidly decreasing, he moves to live in France and travels here and there around western Europe. You can insert your ship content here, though.)

1848 – Feliks revolts in Germany.

1848-1849 – Feliks revolts in Hungary.

1849-185X – prison time (Spielberg castle, Austria [nowadays Czech])

185X – 1861 – passed from Austria to Russia, he once again accepts an offer to sit calmly in Warsaw and try not to break anything. [the plot of BSA the fic happens here – for those who know :) you can also use this time for your ship content.]

1861-1863 – mildly chaos with occassional patches of prison time (Warsaw Citadel)

1863-64 – Feliks revolts in Warsaw.

1864-1866 – Poland’s Not So Great Exile To Siberia :)

1866 – Feliks revolts in Siberia.

1867-1890 – a free time slot. Show your OTP some love here. Personally I want to see him in Austria-Hungary, Prussia works too. So does going west and crying into France’s sleeve. So does prison time in Irkutsk, Siberia. Let him have a trip to China. Or Australia. Do your worst.

1891-190X – I’d love to see him in Russia around here, though, in Petersburg. At least when he’s not running wild and committing crimes.

190X-1914 – I’m currently reworking this section. The old version had him start WW1 in Prussia, in the Prussian army, then switch to the Russian side. The new one will probably have him do the exact opposite, so he’d be starting in Russian.

1914-16 – not like it matters, because he manages to fight for all the three occupants’ armies (until they notice he's jumping sides and...

1916-1918 – ...have him sit on his ass till the end of the war).

1918 – he finds his people eventually, or they find him. And the real fight starts now. :)

...see you in the next nessay, which will probably be all about the three acts of partitions and making an attempt to paint a picture of Feliks the moment his country collapses? We'll answer cool questions like:

"should the partitions be blamed on Feliks or is he helpless about his people's stupid decisions",

"was the canon partitions scene with Poland laying in the snow actually the battle of Maciejowice (1794)",

"is Austria the kind one, because you know, Hungary likes Poland"

"yeah but how can we make it pruspol" And more! Maybe I'll even add a picture to the wall of text. As a treat.

[cyanastrologist]

So after me and @princesspastella started on our self-indulgent nostalgia trip of watching TTTE together, we ended up developing an Idol AU bc that's just the brand of weeb we are. I ended up writing some au-specific character descriptions for fun, and I figure I might as well share them on the off chance ppl actually find them entertaining

THOMAS

A newbie idol with much to prove. Thomas can be rather cheeky, and his tendency to act without thinking often lands him in some sticky situations. Despite his lack of experience, he fancies himself a leader to his fellow idols at Shining Time Productions, even though he's not always taken seriously. He is cheerful and sociable, but has a habit of involving himself in the affairs of others, and sometimes he can be a bit too honest. Thomas' mood and whims are somewhat unpredictable, and he will oftentimes act according to however he feels at the time, even if it might inconvenience those around him. Though he can be impatient and forgetful at times, he rarely strays from his convictions, surmounting strife and stress with his own brand of blinding optimism. He's also a fiercely loyal friend, and is shown to be especially protective of his best mate Percy. His singing voice is playful and authentic, making for performances that are vibrant and brimming with confidence.

PERCY

A rookie idol with an endearing personality. Percy is kindhearted and friendly, albeit somewhat timid and more than a little clumsy. Though he's easily swayed by the words of others, he has an overall chipper outlook on life. He is also shown to be a bit scatterbrained at times, prone to daydreaming and getting caught up his own fantasies. This, combined with his fearfulness and tendency to take things at face value, makes him an easy target for James and Gordon's teasing. Having been an avid idol fanatic from a young age, Percy has always wished to become a popular idol so he can shine on stage just like them. Though Percy has matured quite a bit since he was initially scouted, he still falls victim to occasional bouts of naivety and misunderstandings. With a bright, charming singing voice, he delivers lively and cheerful performances.

JAMES

A pretty boy fashion model, with an attitude to match. He has a sizeable female fanbase, second only to Gordon (a fact which frustrates him to no end). Though he seems superficial, James is shown to take his idol career seriously and is a surprisingly hard worker, even though he still complains when he's forced to take on menial gigs. He relishes in the attention of others and will get increasingly agitated if he's ignored, and he doesn't always enjoy sharing the spotlight. This, along with his flippant and selfish behavior, gives off the impression that he doesn't care much for others. Beneath all his vanity, however, James has a heart of gold. He is quick to lend a helping hand to anyone who needs it, and he will frequently take the rookies under his wing. Though he has a sharp tongue, he's rather submissive underneath it all, and he's often teased by Thomas and the others for it. He considers Gordon to be his main rival, though this sentiment appears to be largely one-sided. On top of his idol work, James engages in various modeling gigs. Accompanied by his sweet and luxurious singing voice, his performances are dramatic and full of flair.

EDWARD

An older idol, though still fairly new to the industry as a whole. Edward is a hard worker, polite to everyone he meets, and always willing to lend a hand to those in need. With a soft and cordial personality, he regularly plays mediator for the often antagonistic James and Gordon. Edward has been described as having a calming presence, and due to his compassionate and non-judgmental nature, others often confide in him. As an idol, Edward ironically tries not to stand out, preferring to let his unitmates have the spotlight. He strongly dislikes conflict and expresses a genuine desire to get along with everyone, something that fortunately comes easily to him due to his friendly and considerate personality. However, his easygoing nature does sometimes put him at odds with his more ambitious unitmates. With a mellow voice that seems to embrace you, his performances are as gentle as they are powerful.

GORDON

A part-time trainer turned full-time idol. Gordon is strict with both himself and others, and is willing to do everything in his power to achieve his goals. Though he prides himself on his refined sensibilities and dignified persona, Gordon is inclined to bragging and can be quite the showoff under the right circumstances. While he may seem overly serious, and perhaps a bit moody, he becomes rather flustered when things don't go according to plan. Despite his boastful tendencies and heightened sense of self-importance, he is ultimately well-meaning, and is happy to help his unitmates reach their full potential. Gordon can often be found staying late in the practice rooms so he can keep up with his idol training despite his tight schedule, showing his commitment to self-improvement. His harshness is often interlaced with an overbearing fussiness and perfectionism that renders him unable to sit back and watch while others fail. He delivers a sharp, alluring voice that carries well, along with sophisticated and precise performances.

HENRY

While Henry is diligent and caring, he is easily swayed by his surroundings and is somewhat high-strung. Despite not having much natural talent, he can be very stubborn once he sets his mind to something, and his resilience and ability to keep trying in the face of any hardship is something many people find admirable about him. Though he is a very hard worker, his frequent bouts of illness often hinder his training. Henry also has something of an inferiority complex, stemming from him seemingly being the only "average" person in an industry full of talented individuals. This, combined with his somewhat pessimistic nature, gives him an altogether negative view of himself as a person, and he often expresses concerns about feeling inadequate compared to his peers. Regardless, Henry never lets his low self-esteem get in the way of working hard and improving himself so that he might one day achieve his goals and become like the people he admires. He greatly looks up to Gordon, attributing much of his own success to the other's influence and trying his best to imitate him in certain respects. a mild voice that wavers deeply as he sings, his performances are soft and lingering.

[writingtoforgetreality]

Springing Forward (Helmut Zemo x Reader)

Request: hey there cathy! i’m a new follower and i was wondering if i might request a zemo x reader where it’s maybe pre ultron and reader’s family own a flower shop in sokovia and somehow through that they meet? idk i know it’s super random but i’ve got spring fever 😂 (by @msmarvelsmain), [Marvel-Masterlist]

Summary: Your family owned a little flower shop. You assisted every now & then. One day, your parents had departed for a while, a man entered the store & changed your life forever.

Words: 3,255

Warnings: fluff, soft!Zemo, it is so sweet, I promise, pretty sure I didn't use any pronouns :), no TFATWS spoilers (you’re welcome), (Y/F/F) = your favorite flowers, REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

Spring was your favorite season of the year. Flowers started blossoming. Nature turned colorful again. Lush hues decorated the outsides. Your family owned a petite shop in the central of downtown in Sokovia. The store was your whole pride & joy. The façade was stacked with uneven, light grey cobblestones. The sign on top of the glass door was illuminated with a warm & congenial light. While you did not have that many guests, your regular customers supported you continuously. Helping out your parents had never bothered you. It was a family business. Your assistance was appreciated & the local citizens enjoyed whenever you served them.

Plants & flowers were your hobby. Somehow, they grew when you tended to them. You managed to flourish almost dead ones. That was one of your skills. Your handling with the people who visited your shop left a good impression. The earnings were not a fortune but you made do. The smiles of your pleased customers were enough to balance that out. Not even once had you been bad-tempered. If something bothered you, then you suppressed that negativity for the sake of your reputation. After all, it never had anything to do with the shop itself.

The mornings were your favorites. When the rest of the town was still fast asleep & the birds slowly awakened with rhythmical chirps. The slight breeze that touched your skin tenderly. The goosebumps erupting where your clothes did not cover you. Yet, you abandoned the thought of pulling over a jacket. As the hours ticked by, the sun would amplify, leaving you content with your tenuous t-shirt. Your parents had left town for relaxation. The shop would be solely yours for the upcoming days. Your little apartment was not far away from your workplace. The short walks back & forth were forever welcomed. During your lunch break, if your job & the weather allowed you that, you wandered through the narrow backstreets. Every corner was familiar but the small details that frequently transformed always fascinated you anew.

Years ago, you loathed leaving the country you were born in to start a new life here in Sokovia. Your parents were incomprehensibly overstrained with your whim that seemed to worsen daily. Friends were abandoned in the process of moving. The beginning in a foreign area was strenuous. Not only did it take a toll on you but on your parents as well. The loan enabled your family’s dream of owning their own shop. Independence was an indescribable feeling. Ever since, your fondness of this place had been increasing steadily. And while you would not exactly say that you had friends here, you definitely made a few acquaintances. Friendships would follow sooner or later. Besides, your work consumed almost all of your time. You lived to work & you worked to live. It was as simple as that. Your lifestyle functioned like that. It was exhausting, sometimes excessive, but you handled it just fine. Still, every now & then, you found yourself craving something. What that particular something was had yet to be discovered.

The delightful ringing of the bell whenever someone entered your shop reached your ears. It was early in the morning. Usually, the first costumers rolled in closer to lunch time. Not that you were complaining. Your body spun around, your apron getting stuck on an infinitesimal bump standing out of your oak wooden counter. Silent curses left your lips, too quiet for the stranger to hear. The struggles were noticeable & a presence approached you. You had yet to glance at the person but your delicate hands were busy with fiddling the fabric.

“May I?” a soft, accented voice spoke up & startled you slightly. Your eyes flickered up & locked with warm, chocolate brown ones. For a few moments, time stopped. Your heartbeat sped up. Something about this simple interaction let sparks burst. And when his lips turned into a gentle smile, you were gone for. Never before had something similar occurred. Especially not that quickly. It was obvious that you were staring a little too intensively. But his eyes did not leave yours, lingering just for a fraction longer. He had asked you a question. As an owner, you completely failed your task. You neither welcomed him in nor did you engage in a conversation. Coughing to hide the embarrassment, you averted your gaze & began.

“Welcome. Um, I’d really appreciate your help, thank you.” your voice wavered but it did not crack. His hands, covered by leather gloves, stretched out & he initiated the process of freeing you. The thick material that hid his fingers was offbeat. Average people tended to avoid gloves during this season. It was warm enough without them. Then again, this stranger did not strike you as average. This brief meeting was proof enough.

“There you go.” he commented after successfully liberating you. “As good as new.” he radiated a feeling that made you believe he was a well-spoken man. You were unsure how exactly you ended up with that conclusion.

“Thank you.” both of your hands reached to the hem of your apron, glancing down at it, checking for possible damages. But, as he alleged, it was perfectly fine. Another moment of silence went by, then you slowly returned to reality. You occupied your according place behind the counter. Back straightened & regained composure. “Apologies for my unprofessional behavior. I will ensure you a discount for your purchase. Right…what did you need?” your rambling was mortifying. Hiding your emotions was not necessarily one of your skilled characteristics.

“Please, do not bother with special treatments.” one of his hands raised in front of his chest, signaling that he was being serious. It did not change that, deep down, you felt poorly. “I was actually looking for…” a chuckle interrupted his speech. “I am uncultured regarding this area, truthfully. If you offer me your assistance now then the two of us are even.” the following wink made you all giddy. What was it about him?

“Okay, well…” your previous painstakingness was pushed down. “What is the occasion?” it was always surprising to gain new customers. His accent betrayed him a little. And what a sweet betrayal it was.

“A decisive meeting with a higher up. An efficient first impression would be convenient.” he enlightened you, choosing his words carefully. Well-spoken he was but that was manifested from the very beginning.

“Any preferred colors, types?” one of your eyebrows perked up. Moving your body around the counter & in the middle of the modest shop, you reacted unwillingly after brushing past his frame. Your shoulder barely grazing but enough to trigger uneven breaths.

“How does a common purchase for such an event look like?” you peered over your shoulder, a bit of amusement written over your features. While he appeared like a literate man, ten times wiser than you, this was a field you surpassed with ease. A quick glimpse on your forearm, where a barely functioning watch swathed your wrist caressingly, confirmed your previous assumption. There was still a load of time left until the shop’s actual occupation. You could bestow him your aggregate attention. The unnamed stranger absorbed your every word of your explanation. Your eyes sparkled with a newly witnessed enthusiasm. The fact that he did not heckle your talk during the entirety of your tour through the shop brought you desired satisfaction. He was the first person to display genuine interest in your employment.

“God, please excuse me trailing off. I did not intend to bore you.” all of a sudden, your energetic self switched to an insecure one.

“I can assure you that you did not bore me. Not for one second.” his affirming smile calmed your incertitude. Together, the two of you picked up various individual flowers. A compiled bouquet would portray him in the best light. Your hands moved on their own. You could still hold a conversation with the man on the other end of the wooden table. It separated the back of the shop from the front, main area. His fascination for you expanded by every further move you performed. Lastly, you wrapped the ends of the stems with a fine, almost sheer paper. To secure everything & hold it in place, you braided a ribbon that matched the color of the textile.

“All done.” you showcased the finished product to him, a small, gratified smile adorning your face. “What do you think?” the question was almost shy, it needed reassurance. Which made him ponder why you were so doubtful of yourself & your abilities. To him, you prepared the most gorgeous bouquet he had ever caught a sight of.

“Plainly astonishing.” his praise warmed you from deep within. “You really do have an unbelievable talent.” you thanked him quietly, eyes flickering down to avoid his intense stare. By no means was it displeasing or inadvertent. It was sweet & thoughtful. You wanted to extend his stay, fearing that this would be a one-time interaction. But you could not remain on this high you were currently experiencing. The sound of the entrance bell fetched you back to the present. Another customer that needed attendance. Your togetherness approached an undesirable end. Controlled fingers punched a well-rehearsed pattern into the cash register. The blue numbers flashed for the man in the coat to see. Gloves & a fur-coat during spring? He was the only living soul you had ever met that made it work.

A wallet was pulled out of his pocket. Fine fingers retrieved the money. A beat went by. Two. Almost like he wanted to savor the little time you two had left. But your duties called. He would not use up any more of your duration. Maybe he had already overstepped & his appearance was no longer welcomed or appropriate. The notes were handed over. Your movements like a slow motion scene in your favorite movie. The scenery grasping your every bit of attentiveness. It was something you wanted to remember. To think back & hope to perceive that same feeling you experienced during the first time. You reached for it. The moment his clothed hand touched your smooth skin stilled the world once again. The gentle brush of his thumb over the back of your hand could have been missed if it was not for your body to be this alerted.

“Thank you for your exceedingly helpful guidance, …?” his eyes looked up at you sheepishly. You knew what he was intending. It was a silent question for your name. And you were more than eager to comply.

“(Y/N).” it was short, adequate. His smirk held a deeper meaning. What it was exactly, you could not identify.

“Why, thank you, (Y/N).” his emphasis was on your name. The way it rolled from his tongue was mesmerizing. You found yourself craving to hear that sound constantly. But you were not even sure if it was naïve to hope for his return. He would exit any second. Leaving behind a pit only he could fill. Your train of thought converted into utter despair. He was your customer. Nothing more. Nothing less.

“You never told me your name.” you called out when he was almost out of the door. One last time, he glanced over his shoulder. The fur tickling his chin a bit. One last time, you studied the way his lips lifted. One last time, you believed.

“Helmut.” he replied. “It was nice meeting you.” his hand pushed the door open. His body moved through the doorway. As fast as he entered your life, he left just as quickly.

“You too.” you whispered but he was no longer here to listen to your words. Your face fell, the previous spark in your eyes completely gone. The person in front of you waited until you paid all of your attention to them. It took a lot of effort but you managed in the end. The only difference was that they were not him. Nobody would ever be him again. But he vanished. Like dust in the wind, blowing away his remaining scent that had filled your nostrils.

Was it possible to crave a person you barely knew? Your subconscious sprinkled salt in your wound. Brains could be ridiculous. Nonsense. The teasing of your dreams, in the dark of the calm night, was echoing. Ricocheting off the walls that kept your emotions buried inside. Similar to being the main character in a horror film, desperately looking for a way out but being trapped no matter what. Why were you reacting like that? Why did Helmut waltz into your shop without any restrictions, turning your entire life, your entire world, upside down? He was one mysterious man. Uncommon, remarkable. Someone who swept you off your feet by simply being. One charming smile & you were gone for. The first words he directed to you & he gained you wholly. The worst part of it all was that he had no idea what he did to you. He had no idea that your thoughts were solely revolving around him ever since his entrance to the store. His entrance to your heart. What was happening to you? You had to move on, that much was clear. Truth was, you abominated that thought. Your focus had to shift. Back to your work, back to your task.

The following day started off with a bad mood. Certainly, the upcoming hours would be draining. You could not allow the shop’s closure. Not even for a day. Your family’s existence depended on it. Everything was the same. Chirping birds, a cool breeze, a short walk. The peacefulness before customers visited. Yet, everything was not the same at all. Because there was this nagging feeling inside of you & you knew you could not get rid of it. The ringing sound caught you off guard. It was unusual. Only once had someone entered this early in the mornings. And this one time was yesterday. Your shock was visible. Helmut’s presence was unexpected but definitely not unsought.

“Helmut?” your voice was an octave higher. The excitement emitting from you.

“Good morning, (Y/N).” he strutted closer to you. The same gloves, the same coat. The same offbeat & arcane man.

“What brings you here today?” your head tilted, trying to find a possible explanation for his return. “Wait. Was the bouquet improper?” immediately, thousands of dark, negative thoughts were rushing through you. You did your very best with the flower’s arrangement. Never before had you spent this much time & effort.

“No, not at all.” one of his hands raised & rested on your shoulder, squeezing the tiniest bit. You had to take a deep breath in order to stay calm. As calm as it was possible with him around. “The exact opposite. Which is why I am here again. Could you assist me once more?”

“Of course. What were you envisioning? Who are the flowers for?” your elbows propped onto the countertop, gazing lovingly into his orange shining brown eyes.

“I meant to ask for your favorites. You strike me as one with fantastic taste.” Helmut certainly had a way with words. No matter what he said, you found yourself captivated by him. The topic could be dreary but he made it sound fascinating.

“My favorites? It’s tough to choose one when there are so many stunning options.” you quieted down for a few seconds to really contemplate your answer. It was flattering that he asked for your opinion. “If you make me pick then I’d say…hmm, probably (Y/F/F).”

“Perfect. I would like to purchase a bouquet then.” right away, you got to work. Helmut watched your skilled hands. His enthusiasm only died down when he saw the frown forming on your face. “What is it?”

“Huh?” you were in your thoughts. His question was almost missed by you.

“That frown. Where is it coming from?” only Helmut could be so straight forward about such a small detail he had noticed. Would you tell him the truth? You should not. He did not need to know that your mood turned sour because he bought more flowers. This time, he did not let you know about the purpose of them. Another dinner with a higher up? Highly unlikely. But not entirely impossible. You assumed he would gift them to a woman. Hence why you sidestepped his question masterly.

“I believe it happens when I’m focused on my task.” you hoped your smile was reassuring but Helmut saw right through you. In the end, he did not comment on it. There was a building tension between you two. This time around, there were no lingering touches. He left the shop once again & it was clear that this was it. Helmut would not come back again. And maybe it was for the better. Your heart was too fragile to be crushed by his bare hands. It was not fair to blame basically a stranger. He had a life you had no insight on. But the aching could not be ignored.

Just as you wanted to lock the door to your shop for your lunch break, a voice reached your ears, followed by hurried footsteps. Turning around to look for the cause of it, you were shocked for a second time today. It was Helmut. The same bouquet he had purchased earlier clasped in one of his hands. The other one balanced two cups of coffee. As much as you wanted to withhold your smile, it was inevitable to repress.

“(Y/N)!” he was slightly out of breath. “I expected you were gone already.”

“Good that your expectation was wrong.” the warmth that filled your body was endearing.

“Here.” he handed you the flowers & your eyebrows furrowed. “For you.” he explained further when you made no move to reach for them.

“Why?” you inquired but grabbed the bouquet from him anyway. His posture relaxed & the grip on the cups was more secure.

“May I invite you on a walk through the town?” he suggested shyly. “I brought you coffee. I do hope it is after your liking?” the last part was a question. A sign that he doubted himself the slightest.

“I’m sure it’ll be delightful.” you eased his mind immediately. The cup was placed in your other hand. “Could you wait here for a minute? I should put them in a vase.” he motioned for you to go ahead. Your heart was doing backflips. It all fell into place now. You pieced everything together. He asked for your favorite flowers earlier today because he intended to give them to you. His plan was to spend your lunch break together. Helmut really went out of his way for you. His efforts were mellow. Returning outside once again, he patiently stood in the same spot. The softness of his features were rare on a man like him. You had met people similar to him but he was different. Helmut was that type of many who bought you flowers & made time to spend more with you.

You knew the town by heart. So did Helmut. But exploring the beautiful spots together felt like you were espying every corner, every building, for the very first time. Conversation flowed easily. Laughter was shared, loving glances were exchanged. He gave you a feeling of belonging. Like you were supposed to be right here from the very beginning. It felt right. With a man like him on your side, your life quality would finally improve. Helmut would be the one to quench your cravings. And you would not want it any other way.

Published (05/04/2021) by Cathy

✨MY Ko-fi PAGE✨

Tags: @takacsgram, @hiddlestoner-cumberbitch, @bibliophilewednesday, @yallgotkik, @noavengers, @lieutenantn, @birdieofloxley, @aisling1985, @trelaney, @sebastian-stan-d-on-my-throat, @thewinterrbucky, @loveinthemadness, @princess-yuna (thanks for your support <3)

[incorrect-ikevamp-quotes]

i saw your post about Charles and what his personality past and part in the story line so i was wondering if u could do the same for vlad? :)

Ah, well, I can at least let you know what I’ve seen so far? I haven’t delved too far into Vlad, and some of his general impressions can be confusing, so I’ll do my best to make it sensible and unbiased! Here you go lovely <33333

Fair warning, there will be mentions of a lot of JPN app content since Vlad and his boys aren’t around much in the ENG app yet.

My general sense of Vlad is basically discount vampire Sasuke Uchiha.

What I mean by this is to say–according to what I’ve read so far–his clan/family were murdered by vampire hunters in cold blood when he was just a young boy. Presumably as a result of that traumatic event, he harbors a sizable enmity towards humanity and kind of lashes out on them in weirdly specific moments of violence. Another aspect of his motivation is something that’s mentioned within Comte’s route; which is that Vlad went through the timespace door on his own one day and allegedly saw a devastated future, where nothing remains of life on earth more or less.

I guess the reason I find him to be so perplexing is that he speaks about his actions in terms of efficiency, while most of the things he does just feel like unhappy outbursts (v often a product of unresolved trauma symptoms, I’d wager.) I also say this because he appears to have no larger pattern to his fury beyond the original event of his loss. Most of the human beings he attacks aren’t much of a threat to him and hurting them really doesn’t bring him any dividends beyond revenge.

For instance, he insists his disdain for humanity and insistence on controlling them is for the sake of ensuring they do not destroy the future–the horrifying wasteland he witnessed when he traveled through the timespace door. However, I’m not really sure how his current movements really speak to that goal? I mean sure, maybe he’s relying on Faust to create an immortal human so that humans will be forced to care because it will be their future too, but he doesn’t allow Faust to draw his pureblood blood for experimenting. (One can most certainly argue this was more about a lack of trust, and perhaps for plenty reason: Faust is vindictive enough to try to turn the tables and exert control over Vlad, or act on his own whims with his findings.) But if that’s the solution he’s waiting on, turning the rivals of the men in the mansion doesn’t really bring him any closer to that vision either? I mean, what good does it do to bring back Gilles de Rais–a prominent French serial killer? How would unleashing him on the populace help humanity “realize the error of it’s short-sighted and wasteful ways” and move to a brighter future?

Can’t help it, I ask these questions as I read.

In Comte’s main story, Comte hammers home that Vlad is not somebody to be taken lightly. One day when MC goes out to buy flowers, Vlad poses as a human florist to sell them to her–which is how Comte finds out he’s in France, and that he’s made contact with MC. When prompted, Comte describes him in a very particular way; and I think people really overlook this when they talk about their relationship. He says that Vlad is frighteningly pure in terms of the way he thinks and acts. The way I understood his description (given what I’ve seen of Vlad) is that Comte really does mean it point blank: Vlad is very simple in terms of why and how he does things. The issue with this is that nuance and context are lost on Vlad as well–and that’s where the problems start to flood in. Vlad is angry at humanity for what they’ve done to him. Baseline? That’s fair, they killed his damn family. However, Vlad thinks that by extension he has the right to decimate the general public and attack people completely uninvolved in his hurt.

And that isn’t right either–it’s ignoring so many factors here. He’s ignoring how much vampires use and toy with humans as pawns, it’s ignoring the massive power imbalance between him and his victims (this really isn’t a case of self-defense most of the time, nobody but Comte/Leo is a sizable threat to him), and he’s ignoring whether or not a person even did anything to deserve his retributive violence. While murder is never okay, it is perhaps more understandable when we see Jeanne’s frenzied and violent belligerence in response to a man who murders a boy’s mother for the sake of his own amusement/convenience. Vlad literally sees almost every single one of the rivals he created begin to heal/improve and murders them in cold blood because they are no longer of any use to him. That’s uh……..that’s a little messed, not gonna lie to you chief.

While part of me understands the efficiency here–he doesn’t want to leave any traces of his involvement, he doesn’t want any loose ends–it’s also just kind of foolish and cruel ultimately. From my understanding of the narrative, all the people he turned had some visible sign that indicated their origin to Comte. So even if he claims it was for the sake of concealment, it was more likely about his personal convenience. Which…..also yikes.

[Comte clearly does not trust Vlad to be reasonable, and I think there’s plenty of good reason enumerated above, but I actually don’t sense quite so much hatred? I think he’s just given up on the idea of Vlad growing up, even if he doesn’t like giving up on people. And considering Vlad’s behavior, I think it’s overkill to say that Comte just abandons him because he doesn’t care lmao. Even when Comte expresses real anger at the end of his own route, it was more because Vlad was fine with endangering MC’s life just to get back at him. I think Comte’s unhappiness with Vlad has more to do with Vlad’s treatment of human life as meaningless and worthless. It’s fascinating but also kind of sad? Vlad’s traumatic experience results in behavior that is a direct exacerbation of Comte’s trauma, and as such--no matter their potentially fond history--they can’t stomach each other.]

In Comte’s route, Vlad also has Shakespeare abduct MC and take her to the cathedral. Later on in the castle, we see an immediate display of Vlad’s shocking powers: he has the ability to manipulate people’s desires/thoughts. I’m not exactly sure how this works, but he is able to give MC visions of the mansion and Comte coming on to her–which shocks her into realizing it’s all just a dream. It’s not reality; it’s all manufactured by Vlad.

After that...weird introductory note...Vlad gives MC the rundown on his life together with Comte, which as always is subject to a question of bias. My assumption is that he did not lie, only because he was trying to convince MC that he was “right.” Furthermore, he does not omit the most damning evidence of his erroneous judgement, which suggests a continued inability for him to see where he went wrong.

We get a series of three flashbacks. The first is them as young kids. I don’t know if Vlad had already experienced the horrors of his family being destroyed, but this particular flashback focuses on Comte. His parents, in an effort to teach him that vampires and humans have no ability to co-exist, send away all of his teachers/mentors/nannies/the servants--pretty much everyone and anyone he was closely bonded to. Think about it this way: we can see that Comte is very sociable and affectionate by nature. He was living in a house full of people, all of whom cared about him and looked after him in their own way. Now the house is entirely empty. Naturally Comte is very very upset, and Vlad appears to try to cheer him up with little success. 

[When I look back on this scene I don’t think I initially registered the sheer dissonance of Vlad’s reaction, versus Comte’s catatonic misery. There was a very solemn feeling to that memory, and the correct choice in terms of extending comfort is to hold his hand believe it or not. There is a sense that he feels very alone. When young boy Vlad enters one can argue that it was the proper thing to do; he was trying to cheer up his playmate and friend. But at the same time, I think I need to double check. Because I’m beginning to wonder if I was wrong. What if Vlad was happy to see someone as alone as him, and that joy is accordingly dissonant for that reason? He can’t see what Comte needs or how he’s hurting because he’s so glad he isn’t alone anymore in a way.]

The second flashback is the war nurse scene that I have spoken at length about. The important thing to focus on here is Vlad’s surprise that Comte would opt out of turning her out of respect for her wishes. The way Vlad frames the situation is starkly different from Comte’s. Comte sees himself as an outsider, somebody who invaded her life as a result of the timespace door and therefore has no right to suddenly change the course of her fate. He had no idea if she even wanted to live (considering the horrors she’d have to cope with and remember) or leave that time period at all, for that matter (considering the only thing keeping her going was helping the wounded/victims). Comte really was listening to everything she had to say, and he was taking her concerns and motivations seriously. 

Vlad simply says: if you want her, take her. It’s as simple as that for him. And in one way that’s not entirely wrong--assuming Comte would have every intention of looking after her and actually cares a lot about her. But what’s being ignored here is her agency and the fact that they really don’t know each other that well? Something like that could begin and be rocky, if it doesn’t end in complete disaster. Worse, I get the feeling Vlad is perfectly fine with the notion of turning her and if things don’t work out, just kill her or get rid of her. Again, the simplistic thinking comes into play here: it ultimately comes down to Vlad being self-centered. He’s thinking only in terms of satisfying his needs, he doesn’t seem to have any concept of a larger pair or group feeling. There’s an inability to bend/be flexible for the sake of maintaining a greater harmonious feeling. 

[For the record, I don’t think this makes him irredeemable? Only that it makes it very hard to live with him or love him, probably. There’s an inability to live at a joint pace? It’s always answering to what he wants without room for anything else most of the time, which to me is not living and it’s not love ;;;;]

Following their escape back to their own time, Vlad explains how he wants to use the door to turn geniuses and control humanity. He eventually wants to create a surveillance state, which would mean everyone is forced to move with his explicit approval, more or less. (He almost reminds me of Louis XIV, can’t tell if that’s what they were going for.) I have my doubts that his abilities could extend that far, but human history shows us that we are plenty susceptible to fascist and totalitarian rhetoric. In a shocking display of anger, Comte draws the line at controlling humanity and forcing them into a regime in which, and this is Vlad’s description not mine, “we (purebloods) would be like kings.” There’s definitely a concept of evolutionary superiority at play here, which echoes what I mentioned earlier; vampires seem to have this awareness that they’re apex predators in a sense, and enjoy the power that comes with that. Unfortunately, that probably makes for a fairly toxic/uncomfortable larger species culture, which is exactly what Comte and Leo hate lmao.

Vlad does not seem to find any issue with this sort of outlook, and asks MC to decide which of them--Vlad or Comte--is right. Who is more realistic, who best understands the future? As expected the MC replies that it's Comte, and Vlad goes from beseeching to big mad at record speed. He's p much that gif of the teddy bear that smacks its head down on the tables and then has the angry eyebrows.

This is where Comte intervenes, firing a warning shot that grazes Vlad's cheek and demanding he let MC go. In response, Vlad shoves MC into the turbulent timespace door--p much guaranteeing MC's death. (Essentially timespace is a void of sorts, a human being could never survive in that environment for long. Vlad fully knew this, and yeeted her anyway.)

So uh, yeah. Disagreement? Death. Moving on? Death. Nuanced approach to reality? Death. Beginning to think he doesn't really have a lot of patience or open-mindedness or any other kind of problem-solving approach. 

He raises flowers and gardens like a fiend, and he openly plucks any single flower with a blemished leaf. Even if a single petal is slightly damaged, it will be removed and destroyed. So one could argue his extremism reflects a kind of perfectionism as well. No room for errors or troublesome dissent. No ugliness of any kind. I mean in all of his interactions with Faust and Charles this is the overt undertone. Don't ask more of me than I'm willing to give. Behave like good children, mommy's busy. Is that insubordination? boss music begins

One thing I actually don't understand very well is his decision making in Dazai's route. Dazai finds out about what Vlad's doing in a nanosecond when he senses MC is in danger, and yet Vlad makes absolutely no move to eliminate Dazai? He just watches from the shadows. Even when Dazai grills Charles about his loyalty to Vlad, no retribution.

My best guess for this specific situation is that Vlad does derive some level of satisfaction thwarting the future of human beings/former humans. Dazai--being somebody with no great desire to live, no rivals to speak of as far as we can tell, and no larger aspirations--is a life that is easily extinguished. There's no satisfaction in it. When Vlad's clan was murdered and he saw the future decimated, it could be that he felt humans had invaded and eradicated every potentiality that was important to him. Where he might have lived happily with his family, that future was ripped from his grasp. Where he might enjoy his flowers and the creation of an immortal for the rest of conceivable time, that too was ripped from his grasp with a desolate future. 

So much about who Vlad is is about control, so it's very possible his lashing out is an extension of that. Dazai does not awaken any of the disdain he feels, and he does not succeed in overthrowing Vlad's control over Charles, so Vlad simply lurks in silence.

And last but not least, I've seen the preview to Vlad's newest birthday event story. The contents are incredibly revealing, in that MC wishing him a happy birthday and offering him a gift has him saying that it was "the best birthday ever." Granted idk if that’s sweet or just...beyond sad, but here we are. It’s only compounding my curiosity about the wound on his chest--I really do wonder if he was attacked and locked away by vampire hunters or hostile human beings or something. I say that only because that line speaks to a lot of isolation, and given how little he seems to care about turning people/subjecting them to his whims it feels odd. Why the isolation or lack of people who care about him? Is it a perceived lack where his actions alienated all the people who wanted to be close to him, or is it a more involuntary lack?

When she says let’s celebrate again next year, he seems a pleasantly shocked by the notion, and remarks “Ah yes, it’s a promise c:”. The preview was also mega horny: “You make me feel so loved, I don’t think I can be gentle with you tonight. If you enjoy it so much, then I won’t stop. I want to see you completely lost for me. I’ll teach your body what it means to be loved by a pureblood.” Aaaaaand pretty sure the CG was alluding to him licking the good stuff from her basement, though not entirely sure given it was only the preview. 

The brief POV they give us is also very revealing:

“You always keep your promises, and I think I underestimate all the time how much you saved me. You are good, only you are good in this world.”

“Will we continue to make promises to each other in the future? Well in that case--you will always, always be mine, my vampire.”

Tbh he’s...v sweet? In his own way? Honestly he feels like a crabapple that is just so sick of the world and wants softe wife to take comfort in. While granted that’s not really my thing, I know a fanbase appeal exists for these types--so if that’s your thing, have at it!

So now that we have reached the end of my ridiculously long analysis (when am I ever brief, I’m so sorry. If you made it all the way here you deserve a cookie at the very least, if not the right to chase me with a bat) perhaps it’s more clear why I said discount vampire Sasuke Uchiha? “My clan is gone, every other second I’m going to be in retraumatization insanity, when I’m not I’ll be seeking power/hobbies, planning the demise of people who wanted the best for me, building a team to my advantage and unquestioned control, and eventually settling for a lifelong love who sees the best in me despite my more difficult moments and perceived hollowing loneliness. Not the most ideal comparison, but I will say if Vlad was not already named the historical figure, would have pointed and yelled Uchiha.

That’s all from me folks, hopefully this was a fun way to get introduced to him? And again, hope I didn’t alienate--I fully respect what people do and don’t enjoy o7

[miscellaneous-bnha]

Naga Aizawa AU

As requested by 🍄 anon.

Unfortunately, this is not a part of the Untitled AU (I’m sticking to calling it that even though I named it), but I’m really glad that I had a chance to write about Naga Aizawa anyway. 🍄 anon is my savior.

—————————

THIS CONTENT CONTAINS OVIPOSITION, BREEDING, AND ONE (1) TIRED SNAKE MAN. DON’T LIKE, DON’T READ. ALSO, IT’S A LONG ONE.

- Aizawa as a Naga in general would be interesting.

- I can def see him sleeping all curled up in sun spots through the day, only really moving when he wants to.

- But then he becomes much more active at night, on the prowl for prey and potential threats to his territory.

- Unusual seeing how cold it can get at night, but effective for him seeing as he blended quite well into the dark with his midnight tail and markings.

- Regardless, as far as he’s concerned, nobody really has the guts to challenge him at this point.

- At least, that was until he met you.

- The scared little mouse that had lost their way into his territory.

- You had heard rumors of half snake people living in these parts, and you really weren’t trying to stray away from the path

- But it was like something in the forest itself was calling out to you.

- According to local legend, the voice of the forest would lead you to your soulmate so long as they were in the forest at the same time as you

- But as you were trembling under the gaze of the Naga before you, the legends felt like cruel, whispery lies to give you false hope

- Now was hardly the time to worry about that, however, considering he looked quite upset to have been interrupted.

- Before you could scramble back to your feet, he was upon you, coiled around you without actually touching you, making you feel trapped and small.

- “Hmmm....” the baritone of his voice sent a chill through you, half with fear and half with mild arousal. You cursed your ape brain silently, squeezing your body tighter.

- “What is a little mouse like you...” he finally touches you, tipping your head to look up at him with a finger under your chin, “.. doing so far away from the path. Hmm?”

- Your lips only tremble as you try to speak, but he presses a finger to your lips to keep you from attempting to speak anyway.

- “No matter... you’re quite lost now aren’t you?” you can only nod, refusing to tear your eyes away.

- You already know that you would never be able to react in time, but your instincts still tell you to keep your eyes locked on him.

- “I figured as much. Unfortunately for you—“ he points up to the darkening sky, “— the sun is going down, and you wouldn’t make it back to town at this rate even if you tried.”

- You swallowed hard, knowing he was right. Maybe the universe really is playing a cruel joke on you.

- He chuckles, running his hand through your hair and ruffling it.

- “Relax, you’re gonna be okay. Human isn’t my first, second, or third choice in food. I’ll bring you to my den to stay the night and lead you back to the trail tomorrow.”

- You squint hard, nose scrunching with doubt.

- “No need for such a sour face, little mouse. If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it by now.” He winks, “Besides, people get lost all the time; the people of town already know who I am by this point.”

- You furrow your brows, but you suppose he was right. If he really did want to cause harm, you wouldn’t be here pondering the legitimacy of his words. It also made sense about how the village seemed to know of supernatural creatures such as Nagas in extreme detail.

- You figured that— worst case scenario— you were dead either way, and your best bet would be to go with the Naga for now.

- He watches you climb to your feet, shuffling a bit. “... That would be really great, thank you.”

- He smirks and blows a slight laugh out through his nose, unraveling his tail as he moves to lead the way. “Th’ name’s Shouta Aizawa, and who might you be?”

——————————

- You wake up the following morning to the sound of crashing thunder and heavy rain pouring outside his den.

- You rub your eyes blearily, bits and pieces of the night before slowly coming back to you.

- You remember following Aizawa to his den, keeping good on his promise not to eat you as you slept.

- The conversation as he led you through the darkening woods was really quite insightful; what kind of (snake?)person he is, what he does in the area. The kinds of goods he trades with the village nearby.

- You were shocked to learn that the forest doesn’t only serve as home for Nagas, but harpies, sirens, and elemental spirits too. “And those are just a few of the people I know.”

- Though he pretended to be annoyed with talking about his blond haired harpy and the pale-blue haired water spirit friends, the shine in his eye gave him away; he definitely cares a whole lot more than his demeanor suggests.

- It was endearing.

-But that was then and this is now, and “the now” meant you would be stuck in Aizawa’s den for a lot longer than originally intended.

- “It’s no problem,” he’d said once he caught sight of your worried face, “we have more than enough supplies to last us a good long while. Comfortably, if I might add.”

- At that point, you were worried less about supplies and more about the fact that you didn’t want to intrude. “If only I hadn’t wandered off the path...”

- “Hey now, no need to start thinking like that now. You never meant to get lost, and this sudden downpour certainly isn’t your fault—“ the glare he suddenly shot outside made you curious, “— so don't worry about it, yeah?”

- Except, by the fourth week of non-stop rain, it was safe to say you were concerned.

- Sure, it did lighten up to a measly drizzle here and there, but the muddy ground was too unstable to try and traverse without risk. The chances of causing a landslide was too great.

- So it was with a guilty— mostly because of your silent cheers with each rainy day you woke up to— heart you shared yet another cup of tea, lounging back within Aizawa’s coils.

- The two of you had grown particularly close in your time staying here. Though you were originally concerned about the state of your clothing, it turned out that Aizawa had quite the collection in case of situations like these

- So alas, the two of you spent the day chatting away as usual.

- He has been in the middle of telling a particularly interesting story when you suddenly found yourself zoning out at the slight stubble on his sharp jawline

- You supposed it really shouldn’t come as a surprise to you, seeing the ‘nature’ of his species, but you were surprised to see someone so inactive also be so amazingly fit at the same time.

- You don’t know when he had stopped talking, or when the two of you had started falling into each other’s gaze

- But you definitely felt the moment when your lips pressed against his. Starting as shy little pecks until he started to press deeper, coils shifting as he brought you closer to him

- Hands setting your drinks aside, you wrap your arms around his neck as he traps you between a comfortable crook in his tail and his body, his hands resting on your hips

- Your head starts to grow clouded the longer you kiss him, a slight tang similar to citrus but as sweet as candy hits your tongue and suddenly he’s pulling back

- His eyes are blown wide, but you can see the struggle on his features as he catches his breath

- “Shit..” he presses his face into your neck, “I shouldn’t have lost control like that... are you alright?”

- You’re confused by his statement. Surely, he was asking if you were okay with him kissing you, but somehow you knew that wasn’t really what he was asking

- Your thoughts start to wander a little as you start to feel a low burn settle deep in your belly, and you’re almost amused by the idea that Nagas do— in fact— have aphrodisiac properties in their venom

- You can almost tell the exact moment when your eyes become completely glossed over, wet with desire and clouded with need.

- “Fuck... I’m sorry. I should have been more aware. I’ll get some water to help flush out my venom-“ he pauses when he notices the unhappy furrow in your brow.

- “Do... do you not like me like that?” You blurt out before you can stop to think about it.

- he hesitates and you close your eyes, disappointment charging through you, but suddenly they’re open again when he coils around you tighter, chest crushing against your own as he presses his face into the side of your head

- “Of course I do... but I didn’t want it to go this way. I shouldn’t have stayed so close while in my rut like this.”

- “Your rut?”

- he nods solemnly, sighing as he runs a hand through his hair

- “It started some time about a week ago... when I first realized that I’m attracted to you... emotionally and physically.” He presses his nose to your temple and inhales deeply “But I’ve been tryna keep quiet about it... wanted to give you the choice to go if y’wanted.”

- You can hear his words start to slur together. “Y’can stay if y’want... but if y’don’t go now, I won’t be lettin’ ya go. At least not without me.”

- You’re already nodding before you can even think about it.

- “Of course I want to stay... if you’ll have me.”

- There’s a deep rumble reminiscent of a growl in his chest

- “Of course I’ll have you. There’s no one else I’d rather have, little one.”

- You felt a strong shudder run down the length of your spine, but you weren’t given much time to dwell on it before his lips were devouring yours once more, the tangy sweet taste of his venom coming back tenfold.

- The haze of arousal consuming you, however, would have been just as powerful without it.

- The passage of time became non-existent the further you fell into his heat, the more you felt your body give in until you could barely bring yourself to do anything but lay back in his coils

- You felt like you were floating in his arms, giving yourself away completely to his wants and whims, the sultry sound of his voice carrying you through the haze.

- A part of you felt like you should have been more embarrassed; it’s only been about a month since you’ve met this man in a forest you’ve never been to before on an island you don’t even live on, but the thought floated away before you could get a grasp on it.

- “What’s wrong, little mouse?” His nose was buried in your hair, chest puffing with every deep breath he took.

- You shake your head sluggishly, body growing ever warmer as you attempt to pull the baggy sweater off your body. His calloused but gentle hands brushing your middle as he helps you pull it up and off

- The anticipation of what would be coming buzzed under your skin like electricity, but your inability to move very much hindered your movements to try and get him to move faster.

- Sensing your impatience, he merely chuckled before pressing yet another heavy kiss to your lips, the taste of the aphrodisiac thick on his tongue, filling your senses once again.

- You felt your eyes drift shut, your head tipping back as you let out a deep, satisfied sigh, wet lips pressing against the side of your throat, his stubble scraping against you gently. You could barely process the feeling of his teeth grazing against your shoulder before a finger slowly pushed into your hole, curling into that perfect little spot that had stars flashing behind your eyelids.

- The noises you were making sounded muffled to your own ears, heaving breaths silenced by the sound of his low hums and wet lips sucking at your skin. Low words of praise left his lips in abundance, as if keeping them in would be like trying to stop a flood with a lone pebble

- You felt yourself drifting along with the pleasure again, arms stretching above your head as he slowly added two more fingers, mouth pressed close to your ear as he murmured all the things he wanted to do.

- “Gonna fill you up… ruin you completely for any other person.”

- “Gonna make you so full and heavy.”

- “Gotta stretch this tight little hole open... don’t wanna hurt you with my cocks.”

- Your eyes cracked open at the sound of that. Cocks? As in more than one?

- You unconsciously tense at that, causing him to pull his fingers from you as he used both hands to stroke your sides, hushing you softly.

- “s’okay baby… m’not gonna hurt ya. Promise.” He grabs one of your hands, pressing kisses to your fingers before pressing it to his chest, encouraging you to slide it down at your own pace until you reach the spot where his human torso meets his snake half.

- You will yourself to bring your eyes to look down to where he guides your hand, your breath catching when you see two painfully hard cocks, both flushed so pink it could almost be red. The heads of both flaring a bit before tapering into a rounded point, the slit at the top of both weeping with precum with every throb.

- You feel your stomach flip with excitement and nerves all the same as he wraps your hand around the lower one, fingers barely touching. You can feel his eyes watching your expression as you slowly process what it is you’re seeing, the arousal pooling heavier into your stomach as you moan softly in anticipation.

- You feel his lips press to your cheek, more whispered promises of being gentle reaching your ears as his hand goes back to work, stretching you dutifully as you sink further into him.

- You don’t know how long he had kept at it, occasionally stopping the motion of his hand to let a thick rope of spit and venom drip down to your hole, but you squirm and whine when he withdraws again. Before you can open your mouth to complain, you feel both heads press against you, and you don’t have much time to even unconsciously clench before he’s slowly pushing in with a loud groan.

- You’re disappointed that you’re missing the way his jaw probably dropped open from the tight, hot pressure of your entrance squeezing around him as he slowly spears you open, but you can’t help the way your head tips back and your eyes clench tightly.

- He braces his arms on his tail next to head as he bottoms out, growling deep in his chest as he grinds deep, bringing his face down to yours as he captures your lips in yet another deep kiss. He grinds his hips slowly, breathing heavily through his nose when he suddenly grabs your hips, groaning loudly when you feel something heavy spread you before it suddenly felt like it dropped into your lower belly.

- He pulled away with sharp hiss, a soft “fuck” leaving his lips before you felt the sensation again, only the stretch was bigger this time. You feel yourself shudder and moan as you realize he was pushing his eggs into you, your face growing hot. His forehead pressed against yours as he struggled to keep his hips from moving, cut off gasps leaving him with every egg until he had no more left to give.

- “Twenty, huh…? Shit, you look so pretty all swollen like this…” you feel his hands caressing your belly now, his hips rocking gently. You work the energy to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him back down as his pace grows a little more rough, hips snapping into yours with a loud clap as he uses his hands to move your hips.

- You lose focus on his words the longer he fucks into your pliant body, growling and moaning low once he starts to get closer and closer to his own orgasm. With a loud cry, you pull his hips into yours with your legs just as your orgasm rips through you, sending him over the edge. Hot, thick spurts of his fertile spunk fills you as he pins your hips to his, eyes rolled back as he growls and grunts and hisses, a powerful shiver running through him as you both slowly come down from your highs.

- Between the sedative properties of his venom and the exhaustion from having your body filled so well, you barely register the feeling of a cool cloth running over your body as you drift into sleep.

- “yeah,” you grin lazily “I’m definitely not going anywhere.”

[getlitaesthetic]

Hi I hope the requests are still open because I’m living for the idea of a darker Obey Me take! I was wondering if I could request HCs of the brothers obsessing over a MC who they’re desperate to make their bride of sorts, Cuz something tells me that if one of those boys falls for a human then they’re not gonna let them go easily, or at all, willingly or not

Requests are always open, welcome!

None of the brothers are ever truly going to love MC, but they’ll definitely take an interest, and that’s never a good time for our poor MC, let’s take a look...

Lucifer

MC is his responsibility. That means that they belong to him-- a gift, from Diavolo.

Obviously, anyone touching something that so clearly belongs to him is unacceptable.

He does not see MC as their own person, or even a pet. They are an object for him to do with as he sees fit.

Other demons that pay too much attention to MC are quickly and mercilessly dispatched, with a calm smile. He forces MC to lick the blood from his fingers.

Lucifer doesn’t need MC’s hand in marriage, marriage is an outdated concept anyways. 

Instead, he’ll collar and leash them, and subject them to harsh trainings, until they’ve given in so completely that the memory of their old life is a faded shadow, growing further with every hour of the endless night.

Eventually, he has a perfectly obedient toy, and if it’s only a shell of what MC used to be, who will care to notice?

No one, because MC is not allowed to leave his chambers without his accompaniment.

“Tell me you missed me. I know an hour is too long to spend apart.”

Mammon

Whatever MC does, they should not run.

Mammon has connections throughout the Devildom, and eyes in the human realm. MC will be found, and the punishment they receive will not be worth the few moments of freedom.

If he decides he wants them, they’ll become a staple at his side. MC will always be draped in pretty, expensive things, and taught the right words to say.

MC didn’t ask to become the spouse of a crime boss, but here they were. The ring on their finger was massive. The finger itself? Had to be reattached after it was chopped off as punishment for MC attempting to remove the wedding band once.

The wedding was extravagant-- what a shame MC doesn’t remember any of it, considering they were drugged out of their mind.

Essentially prepared to be forced to play the doting spouse to a man who will do whatever it takes to keep them smiling, even if that means sewing it into their face.

“Hey, hey, hey, lookin’ good, baby! I knew that outfit was worth the price tag!”

Leviathan

At first, he doesn’t seem like a threat. At least, no more a threat than any other demon.

Sure, he’s always where MC is. Sure, some of their things have gone missing. Sure, his camera is always angled towards them.  But that’s coincidence, isn’t it?

Of course it isn’t.

When it happens, it’s all at once. MC is wrapped up tightly in his tail, to the point they can’t breathe, and drug down the hall towards his bedroom. 

They pass out somewhere along the way, and when they wake, they’re suspended over the aquarium, hungry Devildom fish circling below, long hellish teeth gnashing as they wait for their meal.

But he won’t feed you to the fish. Not if MC does just one little thing for him, anyways.

What thing is that?

Marry him, obviously.

Every second they hesitate, he lowers the rope holding them, until they’re so close to the water that it’s only luck none of the fish have decided to try jumping for a bite.

After the wedding, don’t ever expect to leave his room again, not even accompanied. After their death, he keeps the body until it’s too rotten to be any good, at which time he finally indulges the fish. He keeps their bones and ring though, as a reminder.

“Don’t worry, MC, you’ve got everything you need right here! There’s food, and games, and me!”

Satan

MC doesn’t even know it’s happening. They aren’t even suspicious. In fact, they’re truly in love with Satan when they agree to marry him.

They have absolutely no idea he’s been toying with them this entire time.

Testing spells, potions, manipulation techniques.

And he certainly hasn’t bothered being faithful.

When MC discovers this, they want to be furious, to throw off the ring and ask for a divorce...

But they don’t. They continue smiling cordially, and kiss him sweetly, telling him it’s okay, of course they forgive him, as dread pools in their stomach.

Finally, MC is realizing they don’t really have any power here after all. This entire time, a puppet for Satan’s whims, and they’re completely unable to fight it.

They sit at the tea table, humming a joyful tune, laughing at his jokes, finally aware that they are locked inside of their own body.

“I’ve been waiting for this day for so long, MC. Finally you understand that you’re married to the cleverest of demons.”

Asmodeus

Isn’t even hiding it to be honest.

And why should he?

All he has to do is stare into MC’s lovely eyes until they start to melt, their core heating up as they shift uncomfortably, suddenly starving for Asmodeus’ attention. The way he knows it was always meant to be.

He doesn’t bother to lock them up, they’re so high on the taste of him they haven’t once looked for an escape!

Besides, even if MC did get out, what a thrill to chase them down.

He toys with them until they’re completely empty, just a drooling little breeding cow without a thought in their pretty head. But don’t worry, he adores them that way. He’ll make sure to keep them fed and watered, even when their only desire is to keep playing.

The wedding is lavish, but mostly so he can dress MC up and show everyone exactly how weak they were after all.

“Oh, MC~ You’ve never been more lovely than when you finally came the last of your mind out.”

Beelzebub

This marriage, unfortunately, is short lived.

Beelzebub wants nothing more than to be with MC forever, to make them part of him.

He lures them in with comfort, something that seems impossible to find anywhere else in the Devildom, as even the other human here is so much more equip than they are to survive.

They spend long nights curled in his bed with him, laid on his chest, trying so hard to ignore the fact that there’s no heartbeat there to calm them, only eerie silence and a thick sludge of black tar running through his veins.

Finally, MC is comfortable enough to enter his room of their own accord, without coaxing, even smiling. Beelzebub offers them a sweet little promise ring, which they accept.

He’s so happy. He finally feasts on MC, leaving nothing to waste, including the ring. Finally they are truly part of his world.

“MC, you always look so delicious. Can’t I have a taste?”

 Belphegor

He’s much too tired to chase darling MC.

He’ll follow them slowly, a horrifying hulking shadow, always there, watching over. 

No one dares to look at him twice, and they certainly begin to avoid MC.

Eventually there’s no one left to talk to, so they begin to talk to their shadow.

The things he says are sweet, dripping with sap, and slow. It begins to wear MC down.

Depression begins to set in at the lack of contact from anyone else.

They stop going out.

Their appetite begins to decline.

They lose interest in the things they used to love.

Slowly, the demon draws MC towards his chambers, preparing for a very, very long nap with his new stuffed animal.

“Aren’t you so tired of it all already? Let’s go to bed, nothing can hurt you if you aren’t awake to feel it.”

[eggytranslations]

Volume 1, Chapter 11-Fate

Content warnings: n/a, maybe prequel to some nsfw?

The night was deathly still; even the candlelight barely flickered.

In this meager space, Shen Qingxuan’s voice was soft, yet it shrouded every corner, his expression serious, even solemn.

With such an expression he had asked, “Shall our separate paths converge into one?”

Yi Mo was somewhat surprised.

How could he not be surprised?

He was originally just a snake, and only because of his cold and unfeeling personality, was he chosen and enlightened by someone who had already ascended to the heavens as an immortal.

He had cultivated for thousands of years, and after one more heavenly trial, he, too, could shed his mortal body and be born anew. Joining the immortal ranks was just a matter of another two or three hundred years. But now there was this mortal, Shen Qingxuan, saying clearly and resolutely: Shall our separate paths converge into one?

Where could that possibly be, Heaven or Earth?

He could tell that Shen Qingxuan did not have the constitution needed for cultivation, which had something to do with his fate. Because of this fate, Shen Qingxuan was destined for prosperity and abundance beyond compare, yet he could only drift about in the mortal realm, endlessly reincarnating. Although he was in dire straits at this moment, it was just a fleeting period of misfortune.

From the first time they met, Yi Mo understood that this was his and Shen Qingxuan’s fate.

They were destined to meet, otherwise why would he, who had always hid himself in the mountains, enter the Shen family’s courtyard on a whim, go so far as to coil himself around the railing in his true snake form to bask in the sun, and let Shen Qingxuan drench him with a cup of hot tea?

Helping him was just a matter of yielding to fate.

As the mortals would say, he was Shen Qingxuan's , fated helper, and assisting him through adversity would allow him to obtain merits as well.

This was inherently a good thing for both parties, and after Shen Qingxuan overcame this calamity, he would naturally follow the currents of fate. In the future when he became some high official, he would no longer have anything to do with him. Yi Mo could care less about the wealth and status of the mortal realm, but Shen Qingxuan’s fate was predestined. With a body weighed down by oppressive, mortal bones, he would never be able to transcend this world.

Moreover, a mortal's life lasted less than a hundred years, and to him a hundred years was just a drop in the ocean. In the future, when Shen Qingxuan died of old age, and his bones returned to dust, he would still look like this, wandering throughout the world. How could their paths converge into one?

Mortals, they were always so greedy. They wanted to live long and healthy, enjoy fame and fortune, and even dared to meet with a yao at the end of the road.

Yi Mo slowly walked over until he stood with his head bowed over Shen Qingxuan, and after intensely scrutinizing him for a long while, he remarked, "I really underestimated you.”

Shen Qingxuan knew that his words were rash, even offensive, but even he did not know why Yi Mo would say something so out of the blue. At this moment, Yi Mo’s expression was as indifferent as usual. Unable to find any clues from his face, Shen Qingxuan decided to take this sentence as a compliment.

He did not expect Yi Mo to drily continue after a pause, “Although you are so thin and weak that even the wind can blow you away, your lust is awfully strong.”

Shen Qingxuan, who did not hear clearly at first, stared at him blankly with his face still turned up. When it dawned on him, a brilliant cloud abruptly blazed across his face. Suddenly unable to speak coherently, he berated hoarsely, "W-what nonsense are you talking about!”

Yi Mo, still standing with his hands clasped behind his back without a single ripple on his face, merely uttered each word slowly, "I saved your life, and promised to restore you to full health, so it is only natural that you want to repay me with your body. But I have not shown any indecent desire, and yet you are already this eager. You have truly surprised me.”

His words were spoken clearly and distinctly, yet they churned Shen Qingxuan’s mind into a muddied bog. He knew perfectly well something was not right, yet his tongue twisted into a knot, rendering him unable to utter a sound.

As he watched Shen Qingxuan’s control rupture into a blush across his face, Yi Mo raised his hand after deliberating for a moment, fingers delicately curled, and touched that shamefully hot face with his fingertips. It seemed as if he were inspecting something and toying with it at the same time. His actions were impetuous, yet Shen Qingxuan was in a complete daze. He did not even think to dodge, and allowed those ice-cold fingers to touch his burning cheeks.

They were so cold. Cold and icy, like lifeless porcelain. Yet soft and nimble, a living being devoid of warmth.

A snake yao—not even a human. Shen Qingxuan truly could not make sense of his deep infatuation. He could not help but gaze at his face through half-lidded eyes, taking in those picturesque and indescribably beautiful features. Then his heart began to flutter in his chest, beating so quickly that it did not make sense. But since when did this world ever make sense?

While in a world of his own, Yi Mo continued to graze his cheeks with his fingertips, taking in their warmth, the delicate skin suffused with a radiant blush. With such thin skin, how could he be this shameless? He opened his palm, turned his wrist, and let his ice-cold palm thoroughly cover that heat source. Extremely warm. A foreign yet familiar warmth flowed through his palm, and he could even feel the faint pulsing of tiny vessels beneath the delicate skin. A moment later, his palm slowly traced Shen Qingxuan’s face, moving from his forehead to his cheekbones, then to his cheeks, before finally resting on his sharp jaw. After enduring those ice-cold caresses for a short while, Shen Qingxuan's face not only did not cool down, but instead grew even hotter until it was scalding to the touch.

Yi Mo was a yao who had lived for over two thousand years; what strange stories had he not heard? Yet he did not understand how this half-crippled mortal of merely twenty or so years could have such ambitions. Nevermind that they were both men, he dared to entertain such delusions between a human and a yao.

Aiya—this truly made him open his eyes.

Absorbed in his own world, Yi Mo caressed him for a while before leisurely retracting his hand and remarking, "Thinner, but still smooth.”

Shen Qingxuan finally reacted with a low "Ah" and instinctively shrank back, coming to his senses and scolding at once, "You think this is a business transaction that you need to inspect before buying?”

Yi Mo raised his eyes and looked straight at him. "So you want to repay me with your body, yet not allow me to appraise the quality?”

Although Shen Qingxuan was still blushing, he had regained his wits for the most part. Seeing Yi Mo speak so directly and shamelessly, with just the two of them alone in this room and almost no distance in between them, Shen Qingxuan decided that he might as well lay down his shame. He murmured, “According to your words, I am only repaying your kindness. But have you ever seen a man offer up his body in the name of gratitude? There are no such records in all those books.”

However as he spoke, Yi Mo stretched out his hand again and untied his belt.

As soon as his belt loosened, Shen Qingxuan pursed his lips and swallowed back what he had wanted to say. All at once his heart realized—It was not that Yi Mo had misunderstood.

He had not misunderstood. Rather, Yi Mo had understood him so well, that he deliberately credited his feelings as mere gratitude. In this way of borrowing and returning, coming and going, repaying a debt was much easier to resolve, without too much entanglement.

––Yi Mo did not want to be entangled with him at all.

Once Shen Qingxuan understood this point, his heart felt like it had been drenched with ice water, the chill permeating his core. Even he could not describe his emotions. But he was somewhat calculating after all, and he recovered without betraying his feelings. He could not compete with that shrewd and experienced old yao. Whatever he says, goes, and Shen Qingxuan could do nothing about it. So he remained motionless, allowing Yi Mo to undress him.

The atmosphere in the room abruptly returned to silence, only the faint rustling of clothes audible.

Shen Qingxuan looked down to see the collar of his robes wide-open, exposing his snow-white inner robe. He watched as those slender yet forceful fingers worked nimbly, loosening the ties on the side of his waist, before untying the next one. When those frigid fingers touched his skin, Shen Qingxuan would shiver, goosebumps rising from his skin.

Sensing his reaction, Yi Mo halted, and after a moment of silence, asked, “Are you still willing to give yourself to me like this?”

Shen Qingxuan was also quiet for a moment, before giving a low chuckle and removing his own crown from his hair. A head of long hair flowed down, the silky strands covering half of his face.

"Since I am repaying your kindness, I should show some sincerity.” The corner of Shen Qingxuan’s lips quirked as he put his hair crown aside and turned back with an easy smile on his face. "Not to mention, you are a snake and cannot freeze me to death. Even if you were a glacier, I would still be willing.”

Hearing his attempt at courage, Yi Mo simply pressed his ice-cold palm firmly against Shen Qingxuan, deliberately making him shudder.

"Then show me your sincerity.”

~~~~~

This chapter is translated by Renee (wooo her first!)

Edited by Eggy and Tao 

Happy 520 (an informal valentines day because it sounds like “I love you” in Chinese) so posting one day earlier :~)

Next chapter in two weeks

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Streetlight

F/M Pairing: OC x Seo Changbin (Stray Kids)

Warnings: Angst (this is kinda sad at the beginning); fluff; mild language 

Genre: Family AU; Haven Sequel; Strangers to Lovers

Word Count: 7.8K

Summary: For a long time, Changbin’s priorities were centered around the need to take care of Y/N and the rest of his adopted family. However, as their dynamic has continued to evolve, he starts to feel like they no longer really need him. So, maybe Changbin feels a little bit lonely these days, but that all changes when he meets a mysterious stranger who wants to take care of him instead.

A/N: Like Haven itself, I really love this one. Special thanks to the anonymous user who requested this! I wish I could tag you.

Whenever Changbin found himself questioning why he was forced to endure the monotony of a 9-5 desk job with no reprieve, including outrageous weekend hours and overtime, he was always reminded of his family and a persistent desire to take care of them. It was a sound justification for putting up with the rude customers who took one look at his superintendent badge and immediately targeted him as the subject of their endless complaints. For example, they might say something like, “The packaging is all wrong!” or, “The shipment label should be 152 instead of 151!” and, his personal favorite, “Do you actually know what you’re doing?”

In those instances, Changbin would paste on his best fake smile and kindly tell those customers that, yes, he did have some inkling of what he was doing, even if he sometimes doubted himself. After all, his job wasn’t that hard, but it was demanding of his time and efforts, and Changbin was rapidly coming to the conclusion that he wasn’t meant for a customer service position. But quitting would mean jeopardizing the success and good-fortune that had befallen his family during recent weeks. It would mean risking their overstock of food and secure funding for Felix’s college classes. It would mean forcing the younger members to work, or exposing Minho to more hours at the warehouse.

That certainly wouldn’t be fair to Y/N who had come to form a very strong dependency on Minho, even if their relationship had been a major shock for the rest of the family when it was first discovered. The circumstances surrounding the revelation weren’t exactly ideal, and Changbin had been a little hurt that Y/N felt the need to hide something like that from him. She had come a long away from the shy pre-teen who would snuggle next to him at night and tell him about her dreams for the future. 

His heart would sometimes ache for those days because it was nice to be needed. Changbin had a people-pleasing personality, and he often formed strong bonds with those that he cared about. But his love for Y/N was especially strong, and Changbin wondered if Y/N ever missed those nights when she would crawl into Changbin’s bed and ask him to protect her from those horrible nightmares.

It sometimes made him sad when he realized that Y/N didn’t need him like she used to when she first arrived at the house. In the same way that most of his family members had outgrown their childish stages, maturing into young adults who were starting to become independent. Even Jeongin and Seungmin had reached that stage where they could handle themselves, attending school during the day before coming home and isolating themselves away from the others.

In fact, when he really thought about it, most of his family members would spend the majority of their time according to whatever fascinated their current whims. Thankfully, Chan had decided that Friday nights would remain exclusive, and Changbin might be lucky enough to have Y/N crawl into his lap, or one of the other members cuddle close to his side - where he would like to have them for the rest of their lives because it felt nice to keep them safe.

“Excuse me, young man, but is this really the best you can do on stamps?”

Changbin sighed at the interruption, studying the elderly woman who had disturbed his thoughts. “I’m sorry, ma’am,” he said. “We don’t sell anything else.”

The old woman scoffed at him before walking away, and Changbin wondered what Y/N might be doing at that moment...

It was late when Changbin found himself trudging down the hallway, ignoring the sound of Jisung whining about how Changbin had bought the wrong kind of snacks. He really wasn’t in the mood to deal with Jisung, especially when the younger seemed to have forgotten that Changbin took the long way home just to buy those snacks for him in the first place. Instead, Changbin just wanted to curl up in bed and go to sleep because he had another early shift tomorrow, and it made him feel extremely unmotivated to endure another day of his shitty office job. 

In fact, what Changbin really wanted was Y/N, but when he paused outside of the bedroom that she shared with Jeongin and Seungmin, he could hear the sound of laughter coming from the other side. Changbin took a deep breath, cracking the door open just enough to see Minho and Y/N lying in bed together, watching some sort of video on one of the laptops that belonged to the older members. Changbin swallowed hard, closing the door again before he walked up the stairs and found his room at the other end.

He paused for a moment, looking back at the empty staircase, and wondered what the others were doing since nobody else bothered to greet him when he came home except for Jisung. Consequently, there was an unpleasant sensation swimming around his heart, and Changbin tried to ignore it as he walked into his bedroom, shrugging off his jacket before falling into bed still dressed in his work uniform. For a moment, Changbin was perfectly quiet, even while his mind was loud and refused to give him a moment of peace. 

But then he eventually identified what those unpleasant feelings really were, and he hadn’t felt it this profoundly since before his own father kicked him out of his house: it was loneliness. Changbin felt alone in a house full of 8 other people, and when the realization finally settled, Changbin felt a stray tear fall down the side of his face. Because it hurts to feel alone.

It was a struggle then, when he glanced at his alarm clock, vision blurry from the salty wetness that continued to steadily leak from the corners of his eyes, and he could barely perceive the time displayed on the screen. Nevertheless, Changbin had been experiencing a lot of trouble falling asleep in recent weeks, and tonight seemed like it would be another restless plight of tossing and turning. But when had this started? Changbin couldn’t really pinpoint the exact moment when his life started to feel like it was falling apart - like he was losing everything that he had once treasured.

Honestly speaking, even before his stupid job, Changbin had felt like shit because Chan was constantly on his ass about staying at home all the time. It wasn’t even his fault, but it felt like Chan was determined to break him - to pressure him so far that he would literally split in half from the constant push and pull. Then again, Changbin had always experienced moments when he felt like there was nothing he could to prevent his most depressing thoughts. Maybe it was really because of his past - his terrible childhood and his rotten excuse for a father who decided that Changbin didn’t deserve his love or affection. 

Yeah, maybe he had some daddy issues, but he also had to watch his own mother die when he was eight-years-old. For a while after her death, Changbin felt like there were huge parts of him that was left empty, and it had taken an awfully long time to fill those places again. But his family living with him at their precious Haven helped a lot because he was able to occupy his time with taking care of others. But Changbin had also learned how to put on a mask of indifference and pretend that he was okay when he felt unusually sad. Maybe he had gotten so good at pretending that he had started to fool even himself.

Perhaps it was finally catching up to him.

Changbin shook his head, wiping away the tears as he rolled onto his side. His eyes explored the darkness of his room until they settled on his nightstand where he paused on the little stuffed Munchlax that sat next to his lamp - a gift from Y/N after he had stayed up with her for an entire week when she had the flu. “I’m beary grateful,” she had said, giggling with childish delight when she first offered him the gift.

It seemed inconsequential at the time, but Changbin had always treasured the little gift, and when he brought it next to him in bed, he could pretend like it was Y/N. He could remember the nights when she curled up next to him, sharing secrets that she never told anyone else. He could feel a little bit better when he was feeling down, and Changbin savored the beautiful moment of peace that the stuffed plushy brought him before he closed his eyes to sleep.

The next morning, Changbin slept through his alarm, and there was a small part of him that desperately wanted to just ignore his responsibilities for one day and remain warm beneath his bed sheets. But life had different plans for him, especially with Bang Chan in charge of the house. “Get up,” Chan said, and Changbin grunted when he felt the older pull the sheets into the floor. “I thought you had a morning shift.”

“I do,” Changbin grumbled, and he cursed under his breath when Chan finally left the room.

Changbin sighed when he realized that the potential for more sleep was completely gone, and he was forced to shower and dress himself before walking down the stairs. It was too early for most of the members, but Changbin greeted Chan and Minho as he dropped down into one of the kitchen chairs. “Coffee?” Changbin asked, looking over at Chan.

“Hyunjin broke the damn thing,” Chan said. “We’ll have to wait until this weekend to go shopping.”

“What an asshole,” Minho remarked, and Changbin nodded his agreement.

“We’re making a list,” Chan said. “I get my bonus check tomorrow, and we can decide on what needs to be replaced.”

“The hot water heater should be a priority,” Changbin said. “I only had enough for a ten-minute shower.”

“How long do you need?” Chan asked, and Changbin snorted because he knew that Chan would only agree to make expensive purchases when he decided that they were, indeed, absolutely critical. “What do you think, Minho?”

“Y/N and I usually take showers together,” he said with a suggestive raise of his eyebrows.

Chan immediately voiced his complaints, explaining to Minho that neither he nor Changbin wanted to hear about their exploits. Changbin especially was still not used to hearing Minho or Y/N talk about the explicit parts of their relationship. But Minho was always perfectly willing to share.

“Add condoms to this list,” Minho continued. “We’re almost out.”

“Come on, Minho,” Chan muttered, but he still wrote down the request. “I’ll think about the hot water heater.”

“You two decide,” Changbin said, rising from the table as he grabbed his keys off the counter.

“You’re not going to eat?” Chan asked with a worried tone, but Changbin chose to ignore him as he walked outside onto the porch, inhaling the fresh, morning air before approaching his car.

The old van was unreliable, but Changbin didn’t have much of a choice when it came to his preferred choice of transportation. They were lucky enough to find the van on sale at a price that they could afford, but it was still hard to find used cars these days that satisfied their budget. And Changbin spent ten minutes jostling his keys in the lock before he managed to open the driver’s side door, turning over the ignition three times before the van offered a half-hearted rumble.

On most days, Changbin was forced to cross his fingers that the old van would get him to work and back without falling to pieces. Changbin rolled his eyes at the thought of bringing it up to Chan because the least he could do was allow Changbin to bring it to a mechanic. There was definitely a problem if the check engine light stayed on 24/7.

“Please don’t leave me stranded,” Changbin said, easing backwards out of the driveway before gently navigating the van along the back roads that he had plotted out since he couldn’t handle the highway.

He briefly recalled when he first got the van because it was a “shiny” new toy for the younger members to savor, and both Jeongin and Seungmin used to beg Changbin to take them for rides at night. And he could never refuse them, gliding up and down the roads while playing their favorite music over the terrible sound system. But the younger boys loved those occasions, and they often talked to Changbin about any sort of worries or concerns that plagued their minds. 

Like the time Jeongin had a problem with another kid in his class who picked on him for the clothes that he wore. At first, Changbin tried to satisfy Jeongin’s insistence that new clothes would solve everything, and he dug into his savings account to buy him new jeans and shirts. But, of course, the bully only found something else to tease him about, and Changbin couldn’t stand the way Jeongin would start crying when he told him about how much his feelings were hurt. Which is why, on an unforgettable spring morning, Changbin defied Chan’s orders to stay out of it and drove Jeongin to school only to confront the bully in person. Apparently, the kid was so upset by Changbin’s words, that he told the school officials, and Changbin and Chan had to apologize to the kid’s parents for the mishap.

However, that little shit certainly never bothered Jeongin ever again.

Changbin smiled at the recollection. Even if Chan had been furious with him, he had never regretted his actions. It was just one story that he had of many concerning the members of his family, and the lengths he was willing to go to ensure their happiness.

Even at the cost of his own.

“Excuse me, but I’ve been waiting for twenty minutes!”

Changbin sighed, shouldering aside the poor customer service aide who was clearly out of his league trying to help the middle-aged woman who was seconds away from demanding to see the manager. “Hi,” Changbin said, hoping that the frustration that he felt wasn’t evident in his tone. “I’m very sorry, ma’am. Can you tell me what you’re looking for?”

The woman crossed her arms over her chest, cocking out one hip in a posture that clearly screamed privileged. But Changbin didn’t have the authority to throw this woman out for causing a scene inside the post office; instead, he’s forced to listen to her complaints for another ten minutes before he finally offered a compromise that satisfied her audacious demands and allowed him to keep his rational sanity.

“Have a nice day!”

“We’ll see about that,” the woman muttered, and Changbin quickly made the decision to take one of his mandatory breaks even though he only had an hour left on his shift. 

“Bitch,” Changbin grumbled, walking into the back room and sitting down on one of the chairs surrounding his office’s snack machine. “Who the hell ate all of the M&M’s?” Changbin whined, and he wondered, not for the first time, if the universe was conspiring against him.

He settled for a candy bar, checking his phone for any messages, but he wasn’t surprised to see that nobody had reached out. The only people who would try to contact him were his family members, but they knew that he was working. But it still made Changbin feel sad for reasons he couldn’t totally figure out, and he didn’t have enough time to wrestle with complex feelings that made him question whether he really wanted to go straight home after work.

However, when his shift finally ended, Changbin was driving down the same backroads that he always endured, shuffling through the three radio stations that the van managed to pick-up including some sort of EDM station, Country Music Today, and the Classical Hits. Yeah, it wasn’t the best selection, and Changbin distinctly remembered having more options when he first bought the stupid thing.

But he also should’ve known that having such negative thoughts would never lead to anything good, and Changbin was already cursing when he felt the van start to shake and refuse to budge over 25-miles-per-hour. Consequently, Changbin was forced to pull over on the side of the road, in the middle of nowhere with questionable cell service. “Son of a bitch!” he shouted, slamming his hands against the steering wheel before he opened the door.

At that point, Changbin was fed up with everything, and his emotions were bordering on the edge of volatile as he kicked the driver’s side door, growling when he realized that he had left a dent behind in the metal. “Stupid fucking piece of shit!” he yelled, slamming his hands down on the hood before he unlatched the metal piece keeping the damn thing from flying into his windshield.

Immediately, a huge cloud of smoke erupted in his face, and he failed to waft the offending spray away from his eyes which started to burn as a result. “What the fuck?” he grunted, squinting as he tried to figure out where the smoke was even coming from. He wasn’t a fucking mechanic, and his limited knowledge made him doubt that he should be messing around with the little black lid that, perhaps, had something to do with the engine...

“Are you okay?” a gentle voice inquired from somewhere behind him, and Changbin turned around in surprise.

For a moment, Changbin was rendered speechless, looking the unfamiliar stranger up and down before he realized something quite profound: she was beautiful. “Uh...” Changbin trailed off, pointing at his van. “I broke down.”

“I can try to give you a jump,” she offered, and Changbin nodded his head while the woman smiled. “Has this happened before?”

“Not like this,” Changbin said, watching her return to her own car, and no, Changbin was not staring at her ass.

“It’s probably the radiator,” she explained, wrapping the battery cables around her arm. “But I can look at the engine for you.”

Changbin nodded, watching the kind stranger sit down behind the wheel, attempting to turn over the ignition with no luck. “It’s not the battery,” she said. “Believe it or not.”

Changbin shrugged. “I don’t really know what I’m doing.”

“That’s fine,” she said, giving him one of the most genuine smiles that he had ever seen. “I can help.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Changbin said, and he stood aside to allow her access to the van’s plethora of interesting offerings under the hood.

“My name is Sara by the way,” she said. “I’m a mechanic downtown.”

“Really?”

“My brother actually owns a shop,” she explained. “I can have it towed there for you. Free of charge.”

“F-free?” Changbin stuttered because he knew that those kind of services cost more than a pretty penny, but Sara seemed perfectly indifferent.

“Yeah.” She laughed, raising her arms above her head and exposing a sliver of skin at her stomach. “Is that okay? I can also take you home.”

“Oh!” Changbin remarked like the intellect that he was these days. “There’s no need for that, I can call someone.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, fetching her own phone from a loose pocket. “I’ll call the office and send for the tow truck. My brother does work for pretty low prices, and I think he can save your car for you. As long as you’re okay with that?”

“That would be great!” Changbin said. “I mean, it’s been a while since it’s had anything done.”

Sara nodded, holding out her phone for Changbin. “Just give me your number. We can call you and keep you informed, and we won’t do anything pricey without your permission.”

“Thank you,” Changbin said, quickly adding his phone number under the new contact option. “You’re literally a lifesaver.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” she said, leaning against the side of the van. “Do you live around here?”

“Just down the road,” Changbin said, dialing Chan’s number before holding the phone up to his ear. “But, seriously, I’m really grateful for all of this.”

“Please, don’t mention it,” she said. “You looked like you were having a rough day, and I know how that feels. Like, when the whole world seems like it’s falling down around you, the last thing you need is something like this to happen.”

Changbin chuckled, finding himself enamored with the way Sara liked to chew on her bottom lip as if in deep thought. “Yeah,” he said, hearing Chan’s voice reach out to him from the other end. “But it’s not always bad.”

Changbin called Chan to come pick him up after Sara made arrangements with her brother to tow the van to their shop downtown. She smiled at Changbin and reassured him that everything would be handled. “I just want to make sure that you’re okay,” she said, and Changbin didn’t know how to respond to that because it had been a long time since someone wanted to take care of him.

She eventually left after Changbin reassured her that Chan was on his way, but he could still see her lingering around her car until Chan finally pulled over to the side. “Hey! Get in already!”

Changbin closed his eyes, and quickly made himself comfortable in the passenger’s seat after Chan’s embarrassing comment. “Just drive,” Changbin muttered.

Chan obeyed, pulling back onto the road before letting out an irritated sigh. “You said on the phone that you took care of the van,” Chan said. “How much will it cost to have it towed?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing!?”

Changbin smirked. “I met someone who offered to have it towed for free. She’s bringing it to her brother’s shop downtown.”

“A mechanic’s shop?” Chan asked. “We can’t really afford anything outrageous...”

“She said that she would call when they found the problem,” Changbin said. “We don’t have pay anything unless we have the work done.”

Chan scoffed, reaching up to adjust his mirror. “If it’s something to do with the engine, then we might as well have the damn thing sent to the junkyard. We’d have more luck buying something else.”

“Yeah,” Changbin agreed absent-mindedly because he couldn’t stop thinking about Sara. “Did you buy the stupid snacks Jisung asked for?”

“I bought what you sent me,” Chan replied, and he sent Changbin a look that said: if it’s wrong, then it’s your fault!

“Thanks for helping out,” Changbin muttered sarcastically, and he resigned himself to looking out the window for the remainder of the trip home while Chan continued to talk on and on about possible options to replace the van. It wasn’t that Changbin was ignoring him, but he had heard enough about their troubles to last him a lifetime. Chan also liked to take everything to the extreme, and Changbin was usually left to deal with the repercussions.

In any case, the sight of the house was an enormous relief as Changbin all but threw himself out of Chan’s car, escaping another needless lecture. He could see his bedroom window from the front lawn, and he longed to escape to his room and pass out in the quiet darkness. However, Changbin should’ve anticipated that the rest of his family would all be downstairs after catching wind of his incident with the van on the side of the road. And the first person to speak out was Jisung, who called Changbin into the living room, eyes glowing with the reflection of the TV screen.

“I heard the van finally gave out,” Jisung said, sitting up on the couch and dropping the remainder of his potato chips into the floor. “Shit!”

“Jisung!” Chan snapped, propping his hands on his hips like he was some kind of middle-aged mom who was about to reprimand her son. “Clean up that mess!”

“Fine,” Jisung groaned, and he followed Changbin into the kitchen. “Ya! Are these my snacks?” he asked, snatching the bag from across the counter.

“That’s all I’ve been hearing about for an entire week!” Hyunjin remarked, and Changbin realized that the kitchen was almost completely full of his house mates.

Y/N smiled, standing next to Minho as she reached out to tug on Hyunjin’s sleeve. “You’ve been complaining just as much.”

“No, I haven’t!” Hyunjin protested, and Changbin despised how loud it was while he grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. Especially when Jisung’s displeased whine managed to overwhelm all of the other white noise.

“You brought home the wrong snacks again!” Jisung whined, and Changbin must’ve worn out the last reserves of his patience at the post office and on the side of that stupid back road when he abruptly turned around to confront the younger man.

“Why don’t you drive your own lazy ass to the grocery store and buy whatever the fuck it is that I can’t seem to find!”

“Changbin!” Chan gasped, and there was an immediate silence that followed his outburst as most of the members looked at him with matching expressions of shock. 

“I’m tired,” Changbin excused himself, even knowing that it was a lousy thing to say in place of an apology. But he didn’t need to hear Chan speak another word, and hadn’t Changbin endured enough drama for one day?

Instead, Changbin walked upstairs, and he could finally breathe again when he re-discovered the solitude of his bedroom, and there were already tears forming at the corners of his eyes when he collapsed on top of his bed. It had been a while since he really cried, and Changbin rarely showed any kind of weakness around the other members because he was the second oldest - and there was an expectation that he should be strong for everyone else, even when he was screaming on the inside.

But there was only one other person in the entire world who had ever truly seen him break down - and she was standing in the doorway, looking at him with eyes that reflected her understanding. “Changbin?” Y/N whispered, closing the door behind her as she crawled into the bed next to him.

“Yeah?” Changbin murmured because his voice was muffled by the pillows. Even so, Y/N didn’t hesitate to lay down next to him on the bed, pressing herself as close as possible considering the limited space.

“You’re not okay,” she remarked, and Changbin shook his head as one arm wrapped itself around his waist.

“I didn’t mean to snap at Jisung,” Changbin said, and Y/N simply nodded as she held him even tighter. 

“It’s not your fault, okay?” Y/N whispered, and Changbin nodded, looking at her fondly while he managed to prop himself up on the bed.

“It was a long fucking day,” Changbin said. “I hate that stupid van.”

Y/N smiled. “At least Chan has no choice but to fix it, right?”

“Or buy something else,” Changbin remarked, and they were both silent for a while. But Changbin didn’t mind the quiet. After all, it was everything that he wanted ever since Chan had picked him up on the side of the road.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” Y/N eventually requested, and Changbin’s stomach twisted at the thought of opening up and exposing his darkest feelings - the loneliness that he felt these days, and the stupid reason why he missed having the younger members want something more from him other than cheap snacks.

“I don’t know,” he said, deciding to settle on a different version of the truth. One that still made him look strong without having to reveal the weaknesses clawing away at his insides.

“Well,” Y/N said, “when you figure it out, you can always talk to me.”

Changbin nodded again. “Are you staying with me tonight?”

There was an intolerable level of desperation in his tone that made him wince, but Y/N wasn’t the kind of person who would judge. “Yeah,” she said, rubbing her hand along his stomach. “I’ll be here.”

Changbin sighed because Y/N would never understand just how much those simple words meant to him. Because sleep suddenly came much easier, and Changbin allowed his eyes to close while wrapped around Y/N.

Later on, Changbin woke-up without much warning to an empty feeling in his stomach, and he realized that he had skipped dinner. Subsequently, he managed to make his way downstairs to the kitchen, finding the leftovers from dinner waiting inside the fridge. His stomach growled, and Changbin reached for the bowl, examining the contents inside before he walked over the microwave. 

“You want to tell me what your little tantrum was all about?”

Changbin sighed, glancing up at Chan as he stood behind him wearing a familiar scowl. “Not really,” Changbin replied, punching the buttons on the microwave.

“Jisung wanted me to let you know that he’s sorry,” Chan said. “But I don’t know why he’s the one apologizing.”

Changbin shrugged, sliding a hand through his hair while forcing himself to meet Chan’s stern gaze. “What do you want me to say?”

“Is it because of work?” Chan asked. “Do you need to take less hours?”

“No,” Changbin lied, startling when the microwave began to beep in succession. He grabbed his food and held it against his chest. “I don’t really think work is bothering me.”

Chan’s shoulder dropped as his expression softened. “Did Y/N talk to you?”

Changbin nodded. “Look, I’ll apologize to Jisung when I come home tomorrow.”

“He’s sensitive,” Chan said, even though Changbin already knew that. “Did they say when the van would be ready?”

“I think Sara said something about this weekend,” Changbin responded, and he took a bite of his food without really considering what he had just told Chan.

“Sara?”

Changbin winced. “Yeah, the girl who helped me earlier.”

“Ah!” Chan acknowledged. “I guess she made an impression.”

“She was really nice,” Changbin said, and Chan sent him a look that Changbin couldn’t quite decipher. In fact, it almost made the atmosphere between them awkward, and Changbin cleared his throat. “I’m going back upstairs.”

“Okay,” Chan said, and Changbin quickly retreated from the kitchen before he was asked any more questions.

On his next day off, Changbin received a voicemail from Sara that told him the van had been inspected. He was invited to the shop so that he could hear the full report for himself in person. It was a seemingly mundane business exchange, but Changbin found himself bursting with excitement when he walked inside the main office, discovering Sara standing behind the counter.

“Hey,” Changbin said, trying to act cool by stuffing his wandering hands into the pockets of his leather jacket.

“The van might not make it,” she replied with an apologetic look. “When’s the last time you had it inspected?”

Changbin cleared his throat, looking at the ground when he shrugged. “I don’t remember.”

It was a sheepish response, and Changbin expected to hear some kind of lecture about the importance of vehicle safety. Instead, she laughed at his disregard, leaning against the wall with a wide smile. “I kinda figured, but that’s okay.”

Changbin drew in his bottom lip, chewing on the raw skin as he thought about something cool to continue their conversation - maybe something that could allow him the rare honor of hearing that beautiful laugh again. “Its not something we prioritized,” Changbin explained.

“We?”

“The people I live with,” Changbin elaborated, studying the interesting way that the sunlight managed to form a halo of sorts around Sara’s soft brown hair.

“Oh? Kinda like housemates?” Sara asked, and she pulled a file from the heavy stack of folders waiting on top of the counter. 

“You could say that,” Changbin agreed.

“I think it’s interesting,” Sara told him. “Do you wanna see the van? We can talk about it inside the garage.”

Changbin nodded without hesitation, and Sara led him out the side door which brought them to the attached metal building. It smelled like gasoline and rubber - plus an assortment of other scents that he could only associate with a place like this. And he spotted the van in the very last spot, looking worse for wear with its peeling paint and general abuse. 

“So, you definitely need a new radiator,” Sara explained as they paused next to the van. “But I also found a lot of things that need replacing: tires, battery, back-up lights, windshield, and maybe some of the plugs inside...”

“Really?” Changbin asked, and he didn’t need to know a damn thing about cars to understand that all those repairs would cost way too much money.

“I can give you a discount,” Sara said. “I don’t know if it’ll help much.”

Changbin sighed, pulling up the sleeves of his t-shirt as a nervous habit. “I don’t think we can afford it right now.”

“Well, there’s always other options,” Sara said, perfectly understanding. “We actually sell used cars across the road. I’d love to offer you something at a good price. Maybe we could set-up some payment plans to help with your budget.”

Sara may actually be a literal angel, Changbin thought to himself. “Can I see them?”

“Of course,” Sara said. “It’s just across the street, and if you want, we can stop inside the convenience store for some drinks. My treat, of course.”

Changbin looked at her like she had just solved all of the world’s greatest problems. Because he couldn’t remember the last time someone had treated him, nor could he think of a moment in time where he felt the peculiar tugging on his heartstrings. Almost like something completely novel was opening up right in front of his eyes.

“Sure,” Changbin agreed, and that’s how he spent the rest of the day next to Sara’s side, perusing a wide selection of perfectly suitable replacements for the van while talking about anything and everything that had nothing to do with cars or the predicament of Changbin’s financial situation. Instead, Sara surprised him by asking about the things that most people wouldn’t care about - which do you prefer? Long walks on the beach or an overnight stay in a mountain cabin? What do you fear the most? Do you have an opinion on the toxicity of celebrity culture?

That last one surprised Changbin, especially when he realized that Sara was basically a living and breathing genius. It made him realize that they were a lot alike in that regard - judged because of their occupations, but they were actually so much more than what people might perceive. He was only rapidly coming to the conclusion that he really liked Sara. A lot. More than he ever thought possible considering their brief introduction.

Maybe it was some kind of fated connection - the type that everyone wanted to experience. It wasn’t exactly love, but then again, Changbin knew that love could be felt in different ways. For example, the love he had for Y/N wasn’t comparable to these foreign feelings that he only expressed around Sara. In the same way that Changbin’s love for his mother was nothing like what he had for his family members. 

Ultimately, Changbin thought that there was, at the very least, a possibility of something with Sara, but was he willing to pursue it? Because this something might take a lot of his time and attention, and would his family be okay if he wasn’t giving them 110% of his effort and dedication? More importantly, was he brave enough to even try? Did he deserve it?

There was too much to think about, and Changbin left Sara at the mechanic’s shop with a simple promise that he would talk to Chan about buying another used car to replace the van. In the meantime, Changbin could only think of one person who might help him sort through these confusing feelings.

Likewise, Changbin made sure that he beat Minho home, finding Y/N in her basement bedroom reading alone. He knocked once on the door, alerting Y/N to his presence. “Hey,” Changbin said.

Y/N smiled. “You were gone a while.”

“There was a lot to discuss,” Changbin said, schooling his expression before meeting Y/N’s gaze. “Will you take a nap with me?”

Y/N glanced up in obvious surprise - because she wasn’t used to hearing Changbin ask for things like this, especially after the revelation of her relationship with Minho. “Okay.”

Changbin was relieved by her easy, and unquestioning, compliance. But that was one of the best things that he liked about Y/N - she always knew when she needed to ask questions versus when the moment called for contemplation. And in this moment, Changbin needed Y/N to have a lot of patience with him, curling up together on their sides as he met her gentle gaze somewhere in the middle.

“I met someone,” Changbin said, looking over at Y/N as she gazed at him with a complete look of understanding. “We’ll, we’ve met before, but today was different.”

“Binnie,” she cooed, leaning in close so that their foreheads were touching. “Do you have a crush on the mechanic?”

Changbin scoffed, moving away while Y/N giggled at the rosy color decorating his cheeks. “I don’t have time for crushes.”

“Why not?” Y/N asked, and her smile was gone in exchange for a far more serious tone. 

“I don’t know,” Changbin said. “I’ve got to help take care of the house.”

Y/N was quiet for a moment, and Changbin closed his eyes because he was suddenly exhausted. “Changbin,” she finally said. “I hope you don’t mean that you can’t have someone special in your life just because of us.”

“No,” Changbin said, but there wasn’t much conviction behind that one simple negative, and Y/N definitely knew that he was lying.

“Hey,” Y/N said, forcing their gazes to meet. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

Changbin shivered. “Noticed what?”

“You look really sad these days, Changbin,” Y/N whispered. “I don’t know why, but you keep trying to hide it from us.”

Changbin studied the raw intensity in Y/N’s gaze, and it was a powerful force - capable of knocking down all those cruel walls that he had built around himself. “I just want to keep you safe,” he said, feeling the promise of tears sting the raw skin around his eyelids. “But nobody really needs me anymore.”

“Changbin,” Y/N said, but it was just a simple intonation of his name, free of judgement. It said so much with so little, and it let him know that Y/N was shocked by Changbin’s confession, but she wanted him to elaborate and explain himself without interruption.

“For most of my life,” Changbin said. “I was pushed aside and treated like shit. It happened with my father, and I’ve had to face criticism from my bosses and those assholes I lived with before coming here.”

Changbin sighed, closing his eyes. “I just wanted to be accepted, and I never felt that until Chan let me stick around. Instead of being pushed away, everyone welcomed me with open arms, and they genuinely liked having me around because they needed me. I didn’t even have to pretend to be someone better.”

Y/N nodded - her only acknowledgement - before Changbin continued. “I knew you guys would grow up one day, but it started to feel like I wasn’t really needed anymore. I guess it might sound stupid, but I really do feel lonely sometimes when I come home from my shitty job and there’s nobody around to really say anything.”

And there it was - his true and honest feelings were exposed for Y/N, and he laid perfectly still as she ensured that he was finally finished with all that baggage that he had been carrying around on his shoulders. “Binnie,” Y/N finally said. “I’m sorry that you felt that way because you don’t deserve it, and I would never invalidate your feelings and tell you that you had no reason to feel a certain way. It actually makes sense to me, which is why I’m really glad you said something. Because you like to keep your feelings bottled inside, and I hate to see you suffer when you do.” 

She sighed, reaching for his hand to connect their fingers. “Just because we’ve grown up,” Y/N said, “it doesn’t mean that you suddenly matter less. I mean, without you, we wouldn’t be this happy, and you contribute so much to that happiness. And I’m not just talking about your job.” 

Changbin swallowed, placing his hand over his chest because his heart was suddenly beating so fast. “I miss the people that I live with,” he said. “How is that possible?”

“You’re feelings don’t have to make sense,” Y/N said. “But they matter because it’s you, and I want to do everything to help, and I’m sure the others would feel the exact same way.”

Changbin nodded, slowly, and he wasn’t sure what to make of all those feelings just sitting out there - raw and vulnerable, but he was also quite certain that he could trust Y/N. “I’ve never felt like this while living here,” Changbin said. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Let’s just start by talking like this whenever we have problems,” Y/N whispered. “You might think I’m pushing you away, but you’re still one of the only people who understands everything that I went though before I came here. Nobody can replace the level of comfort I feel with you.”

Y/N’s words were heavy, but not in a suffocating kind of way. Instead, it felt like a warm embrace, and Changbin just managed to hold back his tears at the sincere expression. “Thank you, Y/N,” Changbin finally said. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

“I might know something,” Y/N said, and her voice suddenly took on a teasing tone. “Is she pretty?” Y/N asked, and Changbin couldn’t fight his smile.

“She’s beautiful,” Changbin said, and Y/N laughed with her usual playful inflection as she leaned in closer.

“We could go on double dates,” Y/N whispered, and Changbin laughed at the innocent smile stretching the corners of her lips. “But, seriously? Don’t hide these feelings from any of us, Changbin. We all care about you, and maybe it’s time we return the favor after all those years of letting you protect us.”

Changbin nodded - it was all that he could manage. “That might be nice.”

“Yeah,” Y/N agreed. “I think so too.”

And then they were both quiet after that - resigned to these new and confusing feelings. But they had each other to figure them out, and that was enough for Changbin to feel completely unburdened. 

Changbin called Sara on a Sunday afternoon - the only day of the week when he wasn’t required to work at the post office. He knew that the mechanic shop was closed, but Sara was perfectly willing to meet him. “I think we’re interested in the SUV,” Changbin told her over the phone, and Sara was just fine scheduling an appointment.

That was over an hour ago, and Changbin hesitated at the sight of Sara waiting near the entrance to the main office. Because, unlike what he suggested over the phone, there was something else that Changbin planned to ask her, and it was scary to think about what might happen. Especially if she told him no.

But Changbin was an adult, and he didn’t plan to spend all day cowering in Chan’s car, so he met Sana outside with a smile that he hoped wouldn’t give away his nervousness. “Hi,” Changbin said, holding up a hand in greeting.

“There you are,” Sara said, and she looked nothing short of elegant in her dress pants and blouse - like she had gotten all dressed up for this occasion. “Are you ready?”

Changbin nodded, and he spent the time that it took for them to make their way across the street to reorganize the chaos of his rampant thoughts. Meanwhile, Sara had grabbed the keys to the SUV that he wanted to buy, and she was busy opening all the doors to air out the stuffy interior. “It’s fairly updated,” she told him, demonstrating the power windows and bluetooth radio system. “What do you think?”

“It’s better than the van,” Changbin admitted, and it was nice that there weren’t stains all other the leather upholstery.

“I think it’ll make a worthy substitute,” Sara agreed. “We’re selling it for $4,500, but I’m willing to negotiate the price, especially for you.”

Changbin glanced up at that because his heart had skipped several beats at the idea of Sara doing something for him. “It would really help us out,” Changbin said. “You’ve been amazing considering everything that’s happened.”

“Yeah, well, I can tell that you’re worth the extra effort,” Sara said, and Changbin couldn’t believe his ears because it sounded too good to be true. Almost like Sara was flirting with him.

But maybe this was the opening that he had been looking for...

“I’d really like to make it up to you,” Changbin said, and he hoped that those words sounded sincere instead of something akin to a business deal.

“Really?” Sara asked, flashing him a warm smile. “What do you mean?”

“If you want,” Changbin said, pausing for a moment to exhale. “I’d like to take you out sometime.”

“Oh?” she grinned, leaning against the SUV next to him, and Changbin could feel her soft breath since they were suddenly very close together.

“I’d really like that,” Sara replied, and Changbin’s shoulders fell at his relief upon hearing her confirmation.

“Are you sure?” Changbin asked because he was always doubting himself. “I mean, you don’t have to-”

“Changbin,” Sara interrupted, taking another step closer to the point where it felt like they were sharing the same air. “I want to be with you, and I’m glad that you asked me because I don’t want this to be nothing more than a mechanic helping out a customer. Do you understand?”

Of course, he did, but that didn’t stop Changbin’s stomach from doing somersaults while he desperately tried to compose himself. “How do you feel about double dates?”

Sana laughed at that, and, for the first time since before he could remember, Changbin felt completely at ease.

[sourbat]

General, 9 for butter knife? 🥺

“Are they Dead?” 

Summary: Charles surprises Magnus with dinner and a show. Guest starring Trindle and Melmord. 

Warning: imprisonment; implied Stockholm Syndrome 

It was late in the evening when, after another day filled with repetitious meandering in his cell, two hoods surprised Magnus with their unannounced presence. They gave no clues as to where they were taking Magnus, only wheeled him through the unseen, narrow corridors, and warned him when they were about to turn so he could bring his legs close. There was little point in asking any questions; the gears never shared what was in store for Magnus, and it wasn’t like he could flee once unstrapped from the wheelchair if they bothered to provide any unsavory news.

They wheeled him into what he assumed was a security room of some kind. It was the interior of a dark, massive shaft (perhaps the neck?) that stretched several levels high. Magnus rode up the elevator, gears at his side, trying to make some meaning of the red, eerie flashes caught between the levels: brief glimpses of klokateers heavily armed, others in front of computer monitors, a couple carting massive loads of what hopefully wasn’t bodies.

Charles greeted him at the topmost level, offering a silent nod the moment the sliding doors parted. One look around the large, blood-red dome had Magnus screaming “central hub.” The room was lined with screens, cameras and flashing lights, and klokateers attentively typing and clicking away at whatever task assigned to them. Magnus desired nothing more than to comment on Charles’ profuse megalomania, but as he was carted forward, caught the smell of something heavenly in the air that had his mouth filling with saliva.

Charles approached, passing Magnus’ left and briefly vanishing from existence, save for the sounds of his heels hitting the floor. “I hope he wasn’t any trouble. Take him to the table, then lock the wheels. I’ll take it from there.”

“Of course, Master Offdensen.”

The source of the delicious scents took the form of a small, clothed table set in front of a gigantic monitor. Adorning it was a set of finely polished silverware, napkins and crystal wine glasses. Magnus allowed his stare to linger on the knife resting beside a fork. A klokateer set Magnus on the side opposite to a single, empty chair. While the first gear locked his wheels into place, the second lifted a silver cover, unveiling a plate of the nicest looking steak Magnus had ever laid eyes on, with butter still melting and oozing all over the steaming center.

“What’s the occasion?”

“A celebration,” Charles answered plainly, taking his seat and giving the second gear permission to remove the cover to his meal. He returned, brows lifting slightly when met with Magnus’ befuddlement. “You don’t know?” 

Magnus wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. Charles, his only source of information, the well of knowledge from which he refused to drink from. Not that it mattered. Thirsty or not, Charles would eventually supply him with a drop of the bucket, even if it meant forcing it down Magnus’ unwilling throat. Toki’s lapse in therapy, Miss Remeltindtdrinc’s continued success, news of Magnus’ past altercations with annoying hoods, a physician’s request for a change of prescription, or a paltry report detailing unveiled portions of an unfair prophecy.

He stared nervously at the delectable meal resting before him. The decadent smell of garlic mashed potatoes covered in scallions, and the pop of a klokateer freeing the cork from a bottle of dark red wine, alerted him that the information to be revealed could be drastic, potentially life-ending.

He grinned. “Refresh me.”

Charles took a napkin, placing it over his leg. “I’ve checked this month’s reports,” he said, grabbing a knife and fork. “You’ve been taking your vitamins. You, ah, also gained seven pounds.”

Magnus rolled his eyes. “Wonderful. Weight I cannot easily shave off.” 

“You’re still under by twelve, but with some work, will be at a healthy weight.” Charles cut into the steak. It bled and oily, reddish bubbly broth that stewed near the roasted vegetables.

Magnus’s hand drifted over his silverware, unsure to take the knife. “And this warrants a steak?”

Since being locked in Mordhaus, the daily meals sent to his room, while a far cry from the fast food he used to sustain himself with, wasn’t nearly as rich in smell and appearance as the meal before him. Magnus picked up the knife. Charles continued to cut his, sawing a small piece of meat which he jabbed and picked up with his fork. Hesitantly, Magnus did the same. As far as he could tell, no gears had their weapons aimed at him, but he still gingerly brought the blade down in case someone trigger-happy hood mistook his hunger as a desperate try for revenge against Charles.

Charles swallowed. “No, your compliance.” 

Magnus had made it as far as cutting himself a tasty morsel when the word smacked him across the face.  

“It’s been several long, grueling months.” Charles shoveled a lump of creamy, golden mashed potatoes with his fork.

Grueling didn’t accurately cover the anguish Magnus endured since falling victim to Charles’ whims. Being locked in a tiny room, deprived of fresh air sunlight unless he behaved, performed simple tasks upon being handed the instruction, or forced to tolerate Charles’ presence and spend his days alongside him, working together and transcribing old English to unveil more hints of the incoming apocalypse. If he snapped at too many klokateers, refused a meal, medication, vitamins or Charles, then he was ignored, left without any means of entertainment other than the memories that persisted to haunt and fill Magnus’ nights with dread. He spent days alone with no books to read, puzzles to complete, pen or paper to bide through the long, endless hours. Not a person to acknowledge him, nor clock on the wall or light switch to help give a sense of time, no matter how false. 

A few rounds of absolute, agonizing silence were all it took for Magnus to determine fighting Charles simply wasn’t worth the trouble. Magnus could handle manipulation, a fist to the face and a threat to his life, but Charles was hitting him where it hurt most, and Magnus couldn’t bear another reminder of his nonexistence, and not from the man he once loved so dearly. A man who, despite the cruelty, still cared for him. As difficult as it was to comprehend, Charles never laid a finger on Magnus, physically harmed or dared to take advantage of his current physical limitations, restricting all forms of punishment to just mental and emotional. And when the punishment finally ended, Charles always reintroduced Magnus to his bookshelves, television and access to the yard. He apologized when giving a punishment, explained his line of reasoning, and was quick to provide condolences when it was over, hands always reaching, hovering or ghosting over Magnus’ gaunt form, but never making contact unless given explicit permission. True, it could be just as well that Charles was enacting his own divine punishment, proving to Magnus that he didn’t need to harm him to make him bend, but since living within the harsh, deprecating confines of Mordhaus, Magnus wanted to believe this wasn’t the case.

Surely, the man serving him medium rare steak and French champagne was doing this as an act of tolerance, friendship even?

Charles continued: “You’ve been far from agreeable…but now.” 

The words gripped Magnus by the throat, rendering him silent. Utensils lowered, their stares met one another’s. Magnus expected a snicker, eyes confidently framed into slits to better make out his discontent. Instead, Magnus couldn’t tell if it was just him, or the combination of bubbly alcohol and a candlelit dinner, but Charles stared at him with a smile he hadn’t seen in years. There were round, lifted cheeks, and that all-too straight grin that almost crossed the line from being endearing, to becoming a tad awkward.

“I feel like I can rely on you,” Charles said, “Like, ah…like we used to, when we were young.” 

Charm aside, it was a difficult pill to swallow. Magnus dropped his stare, to his once decadent meal. It was hard to keep an appetite upon learning the meal was a celebration for his submission.

A hand settled over Magnus’ right. His eyes returned to Charles, and upon the second glance, made out those small features he spent hours admiring during long nights spent waiting for the bus, in line, or just from sharing the same space. Sharp tip of the nose that always glowed under the smallest of lights. Perfectly shaped eyebrows. The very subtle way the glasses hung down the bridge when he lowered his head to meet him. 

Magnus stabbed at his roasted parsnips, finding it equally difficult to be mad at the man who continued to offer help during bathing, purchased whatever form of literature he demanded, when he was acting in accordance. He picked at his meal, taking small bites and savoring the rich taste of butter, fluffy texture of potatoes and steak that melted in his mouth. The few glances he made at Charles, no matter how brief, were always met with positivity.

Something about it frightened him.

“I have something I want to show you.” 

Upon completion of their meal, Charles called a klokateer from the red depths of the room, and then offered Magnus two thick files. Magnus opened the first, revealing the photo of a young woman dressed entirely in high-end gothic fashion, staring wildly at him. The first thing he noticed about her was that she was a stranger, an unknown he’d never engaged with in his entire life. Yet, he knew there was a connection, something that Charles connected with him.

Magnus rolled a thumb over the faded blur of her nose piercing, eyes briefly engaging with the uniqueness of her name, then closed the folder. “What’s this?”

Charles snapped a finger. “Special cases.”

Klokateer approached with a tray. While they replaced Magnus’ wine glass with smaller, round cups, he picked up the second file, and like before, met another smile, this time from a man. Unlike the goth, the man in the photo appeared lax, if not in a slight, distant daze. The blond highlights in his hair made Magnus want to connect the man with the goth-woman; the goatee and length of his hair made Magnus hesitant to try and tie the stranger with him.

After locating the name, and finding it equally as alien as the woman’s, Magnus sighed. On the other side of the table, Charles was waiting, patiently.

Magnus lowered the second file. “Are they dead?”

The candles’ embers flickered. A devious smile manifested across Charles’ ivory face. Another snap from his long fingers, and the gigantic monitor resting before them turned on, sending Magnus into a state of shock. His wheelchair jolted as he tried backing away from the now active screen, locked wheels keeping him in place while he gathered himself. Displaying on the screen were two people in a small room. A rec room, with a few old arcade games, display cased lines with boxes, an old couch, and a long, rectangular table. Magnus squinted his eyes, making out the dark blur of a shapely figure standing at one end of the table, picking up a paddle and ball. Magnus recognized her as the same woman from the file. He turned to the second figure standing on the opposite side, a tall man with a broad frame, shoulder-length hair, and carrying a lazy grin.

They were playing ping-pong.

A ball bounced from one side to the next as the two jumped, stretched, and did what they could to earn a point. If Magnus didn’t know any better, he’d assume this was just a friendly game between acquaintances, but the files on the table, and the curious glint in Charles’ eyes, told Magnus there was something far more ominous at hand.

Just as Magnus turned from the screen, caught something hanging in the corner of the cluttered room. A calendar, and when Magnus set his eyes upon it, turned sickly pale at the discovery of the month.  

“They’re like you,” Charles suddenly began, his voice a faint echo while Magnus slowly drew away from the calendar, back to the two unknowns playing ping-pong. “Dead to the world, but–” 

“A never-ending source of entertainment for you,” Magnus harshly bit back. A hand hit the edge of the table, pulling some of the cloth down. Charles remained seated, but his chair had groaned, dragging from the unannounced outburst. Magnus heard it, and he took and rolled with it, hoping it would serve and supply him strength against Charles. 

“I always knew you were a control freak, but this…” Magnus gestured morosely at the screen. “I must say, the voyeurism is taking me by surprise.”

“It’s necessary to monitor prisoners.” Charles appeared calm, but his hands were clasped tightly together, wrinkles deepening from the lowered brow and frown, and patience nearing its untimely end. Still the answer was quick, short and to the bloody point. It was, like everything else that came from Charles, practical to the point of being insufferable.

Magnus humored the idea of their being cameras in his room, and Charles, his once beloved, using the very same excuse to watch him struggle each time he transitioned from chair to bed, chair to toilet, chair to floor. 

Frustrated, he heaved a dry laugh. “And you’re quite sure you never read the works of Harlan Ellison?”

Charles didn’t answer. Magnus hit the table again, sending one of the candles to topple on its side. The flame died on its way down, but the effect was immediate. Weapons were drawn, and Magnus could see fine red dots pin-pointed all over his arm, and when he fell back into the wheelchair, saw a dozen more spread across his chest.

Unaffected, Charles waited until Magnus sank into the wheelchair, momentarily defeated. 

“Would you like to meet them?” 

“Is that a threat?” Magnus asked, arms crossed, the only act of defiance he could get away with.

“An invitation,” Charles insisted, as though it changed a damn thing.

For whatever reason, Charles outstretched his arm, hand hoping to return and rest upon Magnus like it had minutes ago. When it crossed the halfway mark, Magnus withdrew, going as far back into his seat as he could without having to drag his lower half with him. 

Charles sighed, dejected. “I know it must be lonely, what with you, ah–”

Magnus opened his mouth, ready to lash at Charles for even trying. He saw the calendar. Whether he’d been handed a live recording, or something saved from days, even weeks before, nothing could change the terrifying knowledge he had picked up on when his eye set on the estimated date. 

A year. He’d been locked in Mordhaus for a year, and never noticed! Time had blended, blurred and stagnated into a concrete wall that he couldn’t pass nor break. He was getting along better with Charles, tolerating him and almost…a year. Charles had been training him for an entire year, and now, after months of arguing, spitting out his meds, saying nasty words and refusing to wheel himself around, Charles was celebrating a year of them together, and of the slow, but now blatantly apparent improvement of his condition from having broken Magnus at some point. 

“I figured, after you and I finished with the scriptures, you might be willing to offer a helping hand with these two.”

And he had broken him, to some extent. Otherwise, why the candles, the steak and that smile? Why let him use a knife tonight, when so many other nights he’d been handed only the plastic spork, later the spoon and fork, but only when in the company of gears?  The comment about his weight, about the future hard work to come; it all amounted to Magnus surrendering, complying with Charles and doing whatever it took to remain noticed, acknowledged, alive. 

“Well?” Charles’ voice broke through the fury building inside Magnus. “What do you think?”

His nails dug into the tablecloth. “And why would I ever consider aiding you in training additional human pets?” Magnus snapped. His entire chair lurched alongside him, dragging forward and colliding his lower abdomen against the table. Magnus barely noticed, too fixated on Charles’ calm, unmoving demeanor. The smug bastard. Magnus threw another fist at the table, sending his cappuccino to teeter near the end, threatening to fall and shatter. “Really Charles, you know how jealous I can get. Me, sharing another man with you? And a woman? Ha!”

He had done an excellent job refraining from bringing up their old flame, a mere pile of ashy white cinders long since carried off by the cruel, cold winds of fate. Charles had no problem hinting at it, calling forth old memories in a futile attempt to sway Magnus towards his favor, but until now Magnus’ pride had forbidden him to going so low as to attack Charles with stories of walks across the park, going to concerts to sight out potential competition and talent, or nights spent smoking and dreaming aloud.

Not anymore. Magnus undid the harness keeping his legs in place. He pressed his left arm on top of the table, elbow held firm under his weight. With this right, he dragged himself up, using the table for support as he tried to create some height over Charles. 

“Let me guess? They’re exes of yours as well?” Magnus heaved a little as he lifted himself, lame legs adrift in a senseless void. Charles’ eyes finally gave to emotion, widening as Magnus carried himself using rage alone. “They piss you off, too? Didn’t like your prudish attitude? Your compulsive behavior? Tell me, Allied Mastercomputer, other than the fact that you own me body and soul, why the hell should I help you, huh?”

The words spat out, flicking and landing across Charles’ spectacles. He flinched, head and neck reacting to the meager onslaught, then returned to their usual placements. Magnus watched, arms shaking under his weight, while Charles picked up his napkin and removed his glasses to clean the lens. As he did, Magnus’ right elbow locked, and he slipped back. Though he couldn’t feel it, he knew his legs tripped over themselves, and were it not for a klokateers hastily grabbing him by the arms and guiding him back to his chair, Magnus knew he’d have likely fallen to the floor and be made a fool in front of Charles.

He wasn’t sure if this was any better.

No. He was still the fool in this scenario.

“I’ll grant you your legs back.”

Magnus slumped, eyes blank at the promise.

Charles lifted his glasses up the light, nose wrinkling slightly at the smudges that remained, and nothing more. “What’s more, I’ll grant you some privileges, allow you to traverse the hidden pathways on your own.”

Cruel words hardly had any meaning, anymore. And what was the point of trying to give the illusion of height, when both very well knew Magnus couldn’t so much as stand without the use of a wall, pole or beam? Was it even standing, or just support? Was it even support if he constantly leaned, dragged down by his broken body’s weight, bodily dysphoria that mapped out an incomplete form?

“What do you say, Magnus?” Charles asked calmly. There wasn’t the smallest hint that he was angry. Quite the contrary, he appeared as hopeful as ever, like he had been when asking Magnus out on their very first date. That Charles had also been calm, smile favoring his chances, the starlight above casting a light that brought out the rosiness of his cheeks, the pink of his smile when affirmed the upcoming date.

Magnus blinked. The red hue of the room really did bring out the sharp contours of his high cheekbones, the shallow hood of his eyelids.

Magnus shook his head, and when he dropped down to witness the awkward positioning of his legs, felt Charles’ hand return to him.

There it goes, again. “Would you be willing to try?” 

Magnus glanced at the thick files, no doubt filled with all the information he needed to manipulate and convince these unknown factors in his obstructively miniscule world to follow his every word. He’d done it before, had ticked greater men with less information to work with. 

And to walk again…?

Magnus returned to facing the left, at the overcast monitor now displaying just the man sitting on a couch, legs and arms spread as he stared peevishly at the swaying camera observing him. The goth girl was gone. After an inhale from what looked like a cigarette, possibly a vape pen, the man waved at the security camera, and Magnus tore away, ashamed for even considering putting another person through a similar hell as his.

Charles was waiting for him at the table. “Well?”

He swallowed a lump. “What’s for dessert?”

Unmoving, Charles responded: “One of your favorites.”

The circular dome lifted, revealing a small, thin slice of dark chocolate cake, interior thick and layered with a darkening shade of increasing bitter chocolate. Surrounding it were several, plump little raspberries, and just as Magnus was handed a new spoon, a klokateer poured a bright, vibrant pink syrup over the slice. Like dinner, few words were shared between the two. His appetite long gone, Magnus struggled to make due and distracted himself with small bites that tasted less sweet each time his eyes caught the man in the monitor switching between the various forms of entertainment, and looking up to ponder over the unknown taking delight in his situation.

Magnus licked his lips, tasting the tart syrup spread across his upper, and wasn’t surprised when he saw Charles watching him, eyes soft and overflowing with nostalgia. Remembering the date on the calendar, Magnus dared and tested the dark waters. 

He picked up a raspberry. “Happy anniversary, Charles.”

Lowering his cappuccino, Charles replied with a hum. “Happy anniversary, Magnus.”

[tabloidtoc]

National Enquirer, November 16

You can buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Jeffrey Epstein’s madam Ghislaine Maxwell’s nights with Prince Andrew and teen Virginia Roberts Giuffre

Page 2: Brad Pitt kicked married galpal Nicole Poturalski to the curb after getting flak from his ex Angelina Jolie -- Brad’s relationship with Nicole hit the skids after Brad decided he needed to shore up his image during his ongoing custody battle with Angie and his focus right now is to get his dad image back on track and give Angie no more ammo to fling back at him

Page 3: Tiger Woods’ romance with Erica Herman has gone off course over legal troubles and wedding pressure and bickering over where to live and Tiger is so fed up he’s considering ditching his nagging girlfriend in Florida and moving back to his native California -- Erica’s been pressuring him to put a ring on it ever since she moved into his Jupiter Island mansion and that’s something he just won’t do and she’s already taken over his household buying new furniture and remodeling the master bath and building a new closet and hiring a gourmet chef -- California is looking better and better to Tiger who only moved to Florida to play on its tough Bermuda grass which helped improve his swing but now Tiger’s ex Elin lives in Florida with their two kids 

Page 4: Miranda Lambert is scoffing at ex Blake Shelton’s newly announced engagement to Gwen Stefani and she’s convinced Blake’s third walk down the aisle has failure written all over it because she thinks Blake’s bad to the bone and this marriage will wind up being a total disaster and after the hell Blake put her through Miranda can’t imagine his life with Gwen would be any different, lifelong bachelor Simon Cowell has had a change of heart since his horrific August accident and he’s finally ready to tie the knot with baby mama Lauren Silverman -- after spinal surgery to repair his broken back the entertainment mogul feels lucky to be alive and walking and the one constant in his difficult rehab after surgery has been Lauren and he wants to pay her back with a ring 

Page 5: Train-wreck Wendy Williams’ wacky behavior has TV producers scrambling behind the scenes to find her replacement after her unhinged performance on a recent episode of her talk show where she slurred her words and rambled incoherently -- there had been a hope a chatfest helmed by Nick Cannon could be a safety net should the daytime diva who spent a stint in a sober living house last year not be able to continue hosting but plans for that were pushed back after the comic made anti-Semitic rants in a podcast -- they also tried Jerry O’Connell when Wendy was out for three weeks last year but he tanked with viewers -- Wendy’s a mess and it remains to be seen how long producers will be able to put up with her problems before they decide to pull the plug 

Page 6: Grey’s Anatomy star Ellen Pompeo hinted that she may be making her final rounds -- Ellen who has starred on the show since 2005 and makes $20 million a year admitted she’s considering slipping out of her scrubs after the current season 17 but her departure could spell the end of the beloved series and show creator Shonda Rhimes has said it’s unlikely the show could continue without her but Ellen has also expressed her desire to spend more time with her husband and their three children

Page 7: Mariah Carey’s brother Morgan blasted her memoir as filled with lies and distortions and he’s considering legal action -- the book called Morgan and sister Alison her ex-brother and ex-sister and Mariah wrote Morgan had a long history of violence and when she was six he slammed their mother into a wall -- Mariah also wrote her siblings and mother were heartless in terms of dealing with her as a human being and once she got famous they started treating her like an ATM with a wig on but Morgan is fighting back and looking to hire a lawyer

Page 8: Reese Witherspoon’s marriage to Jim Toth is in the muck after the stunning collapse of his new business venture and tensions are mounting in the Hollywood power couple’s already troubled union now that the streaming service Quibi crumbled after less than six months leaving content acquisition president Jim out of work while Reese’s star continues to rise and there’s a real balance of power that’s been building up and that’s put a serious strain on the relationship -- living in quarantine added to the stress between them as Reese has been holed up with her two kids with ex Ryan Phillippe Ava and Deacon and her son Tennessee with Jim at the family’s ranch in Malibu

Page 9: Dementia patient Kenny Rogers cut his three adult children out of his $250 million will and now sources fear the late country legend could have been tricked into signing the document -- Kenny left everything to his 16-year-old twins sons with fifth wife Wanda and the will also stated it was his intent to specifically exclude his daughter Carole with his first wife and son Kenny Jr. with third wife and son Christopher with fourth wife and their issue as beneficiaries of his estate -- Kenny Sr. would never disown his own children according to the source especially since the singer’s son Kenny Jr. is incorrectly referred to Kenny Rogers III throughout the will -- the wording is not like Kenny Sr. and something is not right and his older kids are thinking about contesting the will 

Page 10: Hot Shots -- Kate McKinnon shot a Saturday Night live skit in NYC, Sophia Bush hit the road in L.A. with her co-pilot pup Maggie, pregnant Jinger Duggar Vuolo in Venice with daughter Felicity, Heidi Klum walking the streets in her native Germany, Snoop Dogg saluted young rappers as he accepted BET’s I Am Hip Hop award 

Page 11: Unwitting Jennifer Aniston and Gerard Butler once dabbled in the secret sex cult NXIVM -- the organization masqueraded as a self-help group but in 2017 it was exposed as a pyramid scheme for founder Keith Raniere who forced high-ranking female recruits to become his sex slaves -- in 2010 Jen and Gerry who were dating at the time wound up at one of the introductory seminars but they were turned off by the level of commitment expected and never returned -- they thought it was just a networking opportunity and had no idea what they were getting themselves into, cash-crunched Gwyneth Paltrow is facing hard times like everyone else and is looking to change her free-spending ways -- the belt-tightening caused by the coronavirus pandemic has even hit her lifestyle empire Goop causing her to shut down the London branch and make hard choices for the future -- Gwyneth may be worth $100 million but she and husband Brad Falchuk spend money like it’s going out of style on private jets they use on a whim and they own a fleet of fancy cars and pay steep salaries for staff who are at their beck and call 24/7 and it’s all draining their bank accounts -- they’re looking at making cuts across the board from personal trainers and chefs and drivers to the masseurs and beauticians who come to their house several times a week -- plus the couple believe it’s a bad look for them to be living so high on the hog when the rest of the world is suffering during the pandemic

Page 12: Straight Shuter -- Angelina Jolie spent years developing her own version of the Hollywood classic Cleopatra and now she’s livid that Gal Gadot has stolen the Egyptian queen -- Angie’s dream was to play Cleopatra the role that made Elizabeth Taylor an icon and it was to be the part that won Angie an Academy Award for Best Actress and now that’s over thanks to Gal who will be playing the Queen of the Nile instead, after ABC scrapped plans to honor Regis Philbin with a prime-time tribute Jimmy Kimmel insisted on honoring Regis on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?, MSNBC talking head Rachel Maddow is fleeing New York for her Massachusetts farm after hanging a $2.3 million price tag on her NYC pad but Rachel didn’t want potential buyers looking through all the personal stuff at her apartment so all the personal pictures and books and clothing and everything else was shipped out and replaced with staged furniture, Ariel Winter and her dog (picture) 

Page 13: Ailing Joni Mitchell opened up about how she’s still struggling to get back to her old self five years after a debilitating brain bleed -- after Joni was found unresponsive in her Bel-Air home in 2015 she said she was forced to relearn everyday tasks because the aneurysm took away her speech and her ability to walk and although she’s showing slow improvement she hasn’t been writing or playing the guitar or the piano, Randy Travis is defying all the odds as he plans the greatest comeback in country music history as he is making amazing progress after suffering a massive 2013 stroke that most believed would end his career forever and he was given just 1% chance of survival and even after he pulled through doctors believed he would be bedridden and unable to speak -- instead his grueling rehab efforts have miraculously put him on the road to realizing his dream of returning to the spotlight -- some of his motivation is financial; last year he sold his Nashville home and released his memoir which was fueled by his need to pay medical expenses after years of not being able to perform

Page 14: Hollywood Hookups -- Channing Tatum and Jessie J have split again, Cole Sprouse and Reina Silva dating, Kate Beckinsale and Goody Grace split 

Page 15: Ariana Grande is raising eyebrows with her raunchy new record Positions -- the former squeaky-clean Nickelodeon star who has been dating real estate agent Dalton Gomez spouted off X-rated odes to an unnamed lover on the LP, six months after sidelining her marriage to former quarterback Jay Cutler Kristin Cavallari admitted there are good days and bad days but insisted it’s been nice to be able to focus on herself and figure out who she is now and what she ultimately wants out of life, hotel heiress Kathy Hilton is joining The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills as a friend of the main cast which includes her half-sister Kyle Richards

Page 16: Crime 

Page 17: On Drew Barrymore’s talk show a psychic guest channeled the spirit of one of the host’s former in-laws but the man in question is very much alive -- medium Anna Raimondi told Drew she sensed the aura of a judge causing Drew to burst into tears and named David a relative of her ex-husband Will Kopelman claiming he’d passed but Judge David Kopelman is alive and still going strong -- Will slammed Anna was a submental hack and said he was surprised that Drew chose to give oxygen to someone like that

Page 18: American Life 

Page 20: Cover Story -- Prince Andrew is desperate to quash explosive testimony by his pedophile pal Jeffrey Epstein’s accused madam Ghislaine Maxwell but the socialite’s second secret deposition is torpedoing his return from royal exile -- after Ghislaine danced around details of her relationship with the disgraced Duke of York in testimony released a few weeks ago Andrew is sweating bullets about her second grilling under oath which contains details of their intimate friendship and nights with Epstein’s teen sex slave Virginia Roberts Giuffre 

Page 22: Don McLean viciously slammed ex-wife Patrisha Shnier as the worst person her ever knew but in their ongoing war of words she maintains he was abusive to her -- Don is still bitter over a 2016 domestic incident at their home in Maine that landed him behind bars and led to divorce after 30 years of marriage

Page 26: Matthew McConaughey confessed he nearly turned his back on Tinseltown to be a wildlife guide like late Crocodile Hunter Steve Irwin -- he made a splash in a string of blockbuster rom-coms in the ‘90s and ‘00s but he was eager to move on to meatier movies and even passed on a $14.5 million paycheck in 2010 to seek more substantial roles and the struggle left him considering other careers such as a wildlife guide, Jamie Foxx has been crushed by the death of his beloved sister DeOndra Dixon who was born with Down syndrome

Page 28: Good Catch -- Bachelor stars who are still up for grabs -- Jon Hamm, Owen Wilson, Drew Carey

Page 29: Benicio Del Toro, Ryan Seacrest, Matthew Perry, some stars seem to say I do at the drop of the hat -- Larry King, Jerry Lee Lewis, Billy Bob Thornton 

Page 32: Olivia Munn was caught on camera flashing what looked like engagement bling on her left ring finger as she exited a gym following a morning workout in Los Angeles but she reportedly broke up with boyfriend Tucker Roberts last year leaving fans wondering who bought the stunning sparkler 

Page 36: Health Watch 

Page 42: Red Carpet -- Michelle Pfeiffer 

Page 45: Spot the Differences -- Allison Janney on Mom 

Page 47: Odd List 

[gerec]

AU-gust 2020 Prompts

Masterlist

23. Arranged Marriage - Charles/Shaw, Cherik

A remix of my fic Tribute to the Horde, where instead of an arranged marriage with Erik, Charles is set to marry Chieftain Shaw with Erik being one of his Generals. I’ve been inspired recently by some really great remixes of this story, and it got me thinking enough about this verse that this decided to come out lol.

(Dubcon as per the original story, though there’s nothing explicit in this ficlet sorry.)

-----

Erik is just finishing his noon meal when Shaw comes to collect him, steering them both in the direction of the Chieftain’s tent. He sets a brisk pace, ignoring various greetings and well wishes along the way, leaving Erik to acknowledge them all with a quick nod of his head. The urgency isn’t surprising, as he knows what awaits them in Shaw’s quarters; Erik just doesn’t know what he’s doing here, hours before the ceremony’s planned start.

After all, Erik - and the other Generals Azazel and Emma - have already greeted Westchester’s Prince upon his arrival to the encampment, and accorded him the full honor of a proper Genoshan welcome.

It’s more than Shaw cared to arrange for his soon-to-be mate, leaving it to his Generals to make the choice to do so – or not – on their own.

“So, what do you think of Westchester’s tribute, Erik?” Shaw asks, as they make the way up the incline, Erik following after his adoptive father into the main living area of his lodging. The prince is taking tea with Hank, and smiling a little as they converse in his native tongue, though his expression closes off the moment he and Shaw enter the room. “Is he worth as much as the Markos say? I wonder at their claim; that he remains a virgin yet, at the ripe age of seventeen. A pretty thing like him…I find it hard to believe that father and son have never had him together on his hands and knees.”

Hank flushes a deep red, coughing uncomfortably at the blatant disrespect, though Shaw merely smiles indulgently at the Prince and presses a light kiss to his hand. Quick introductions are made, which Hank translates for the two parties, no doubt ameliorating Shaw’s boorishness with pretty if meaningless words. It’s disingenuous, Erik thinks, to let the boy think Shaw is capable of decency or kindness; better to let him know Shaw as he is without any pretence from the start.

“Ask him if he’s really a virgin still,” Shaw orders, still wearing his most charming smile.

Deeply mortified, but forced to comply, Hank relays the question with a few hastily muttered words. It has an instant effect on their guest – as Shaw undoubtedly intended – with the Prince’s face turning red and thunderous as he snaps a brisk, unhappy retort.    

“His Highness wants to assure you that his virginity is intact,” Hank says, “and that his people would not dishonor the treaty between Westchester and Genosha with any deceit.”

Erik scoffs. Shaw thinks very little of the treaty he signed with the Markos, viewing them merely as puppets to be threatened and kept under control. The reason the Genoshans haven’t conquered Westchester is entirely for their own benefit, and Shaw’s; because it’s much easier to demand tribute than take on the governance of an entire kingdom full of people.

“That’s good to hear,” Shaw says gleefully, even though Genoshans place no special value to a person’s virginity, unlike what he knows about Westchester tradition. Erik has lived long enough in Shaw’s shadow to know it’s purely about the man’s own pleasure and amusement; his delight in getting a mate he can mold to satisfy his every desire and whim. “You may leave us now, Hank.”

“But he doesn’t—”

Shaw cuts him off with a wave of his hand. “The Prince needs his rest now, before the ceremony begins. We won’t be needing your translation services, Hank, until tomorrow at the earliest.”

To Erik’s surprise, Hank looks ready to argue with Shaw, no doubt to advocate for the Prince and ensure his understanding of their customs. It is a kindness, he knows, that would only anger their Chieftain, and Erik shoots him a warning glare before he can make things worse for himself and for Charles.

Resigned, Hank bows his head to Shaw and says a quick farewell to Charles before exiting the tent.

“Now, let us take a better look at our prize, shall we dear boy? A preview of what the evening will bring?”

“I don’t think—”

Ignoring him, Shaw takes the Prince by the elbow, and gently but firmly pushes him beyond the tent flap and into the inner bed chamber. Startled, and clearly a little frightened of being alone with two alphas, Charles follows only reluctantly as he’s guided to a spot beside Shaw’s fur covered bed.

“You are very beautiful,” the Chieftain murmurs, brushing his hand against the Prince’s cheek, making him blush as he leans close and inhales the sweet omega scent. “I wonder…will you cry the first time I knot you, pretty one? Or will you beg me to fuck you harder with those red, red lips?”

Though he can’t understand a word being said, Shaw’s intent is abundantly clear, and yet Charles doesn’t flinch or try to pull away from his grasp. Instead he takes a deep breath and steels himself, his expression a mixture of resignation and defiance, and Erik can’t help but agree with Shaw that he’s never seen anything more beautiful than Westchester’s tribute to the Horde.

And when Shaw reaches for Charles’ collar, and rips the whisper thin robe clean off his body, Erik finds that he cannot stop staring; cannot stop devouring all that silky flesh and longing to run his fingers along every inch of smooth, unblemished skin.

He does not have to be told, to use his powers and remove the hideous chastity belt, and then sliding the plug out of him with a soft, wet schlick.

Charles opens his mouth a little and shudders, but remains standing dutifully in place.

“Come now, my boy,” Shaw cajoles, as he runs his hand slowly down the curve of Charles’ back to the slope of his buttocks, pinching and prodding and making him gasp. “By tradition, the princeling will be my mate yes. But I am quite happy to share with you, and the others, so we may all enjoy this endless bounty.”

“You would let us…beyond the ceremony? But the people—”

“What will the people care,” Shaw scoffs, as he rubs a finger along the rim of Charles’ entrance, making him whimper when he slots the entire length in, “as long as the Bearer gives us plentiful heirs? He’s an omega, Erik, made for pleasure and for breeding. It would be a waste not to share him with the most trusted of my clan.”

To bribe them, his Generals, and keep them in line, though Erik can’t deny that the Prince is a very tempting and generous incentive.

“We must do this properly, and wait for the bonding ceremony,” he hears himself say. “I won’t dishonor his place amongst our people by denying him a public mounting.”

Shaw grins, as he tugs Charles down and onto the furs, soothing him with light touches and a tender kiss on the brow. “Yes, we will wait to mount him properly at the feast, as is his right. But there are other things we can do now, my boy, to make his first time that much easier…for his sake.”

Looking down at the omega spread before him like a feast, Erik can only nod, and push his own finger in to join Shaw’s inside that delectably tight passage. “For his sake, yes, we should help as much as we can.”

[darkdisrepair]

Chicago PD Alignment Chart

so i’m bored and have always thought this would be interesting to do. here follows the chart i came up with, along with an explanation of why i put the characters where they are. unfortunately there were only 9 squares, so vanessa wasn’t on this. 

analysis below, descriptions in italics taken from http://easydamus.com/alignment.html. pronouns may not be correct :)

GOOD:

the three i chose for “good” are the ones who have always worked to be better, to do better. they fight for the city (and in jay’s case the country) to make it better. they have always been very clear in their dedication to the truth. 

lawful good (kim):  

“A lawful good character acts as a good person is expected or required to act. He combines a commitment to oppose evil with the discipline to fight relentlessly. He tells the truth, keeps his word, helps those in need, and speaks out against injustice. A lawful good character hates to see the guilty go unpunished.”

i think this describes kim well. sometimes she is so set in the law that it can get her in trouble, like with her first CI, but it is all with good intentions. she does have flaws because she might not know when to stretch the rules, but she’s learning.

neutral good (jay):

“A neutral good character does the best that a good person can do. He is devoted to helping others. He works with kings and magistrates but does not feel beholden to them.”

this is especially accurate for jay. he’s just trying to do his best and help those he can. he has a bit of a savior thing going on, but sometimes he struggles to follow through, as exemplified with camilla. overall, though, he always has good intentions.

chaotic good (kevin): 

“A chaotic good character acts as his conscience directs him with little regard for what others expect of him. He hates it when people try to intimidate others and tell them what to do. He follows his own moral compass, which, although good, may not agree with that of society.”

after the season 7 finale, i think this alignment is very appropriate to kevin. he wants the best for everyone but isn’t afraid to question the rules in order to bring about questions of racism within the chicago police department. some may see this as a weakness (the site actually listed it as such) but i think it’s one of the most powerful things about him.

NEUTRAL:

as we go down the list, the edgier people get :)

lawful neutral (antonio):

“A lawful neutral character acts as law, tradition, or a personal code directs [him]. Order and organization are paramount to [him]. [He] may believe in personal order and live by a code or standard, or she may believe in order for all and favor a strong, organized government.”

antonio definitely firmly believes in the code of law. he was almost always the voice of reason within the group and always reminded them of the lines. this got him in trouble with voight but he always stayed true to that... until the end. which is partially why he isn’t “lawful good”, because he did let his morals slip toward the end of his time on the show.

true neutral (hailey):

“A neutral character does what seems to be a good idea. She doesn't feel strongly one way or the other when it comes to good vs. evil or law vs. chaos. Most neutral characters exhibit a lack of conviction or bias rather than a commitment to neutrality. Such a character thinks of good as better than evil-after all, she would rather have good neighbors and rulers than evil ones. Still, she's not personally committed to upholding good in any abstract or universal way.”

originally i had hailey in the “good” category, but the more i thought about it, the more i realized that she doesn’t actually fall as solidly good as some of the others, especially post-season seven. her choices toward the end show that she has not committed fully to executing justice as a lawful or good person would- she’s willing to toe the line. 

chaotic neutral (erin):  

“A chaotic neutral character follows his whims. He is an individualist first and last. He values his own liberty but doesn't strive to protect others' freedom. He avoids authority, resents restrictions, and challenges traditions. A chaotic neutral character does not intentionally disrupt organizations as part of a campaign of anarchy. To do so, he would have to be motivated either by good (and a desire to liberate others) or evil (and a desire to make those different from himself suffer).”

erin is motivated by good (seen by the fact that she is a cop) but she is often driven by her own motivations, or even the motivations of others, like voight or her mother. she doesn’t strive to create chaos, but it tends to revolve around her anyway.

“EVIL”:

i say evil in the most relative way. none of these characters are evil- they’re police officers who work to improve the world. these descriptions require editing because i think all of these characters come from a place that isn’t quite evil, but a willingness to tread the line.

lawful evil (adam):

“A lawful evil villain methodically takes what he wants within the limits of his code of conduct without regard for whom it hurts. He cares about tradition, loyalty, and order but not about freedom, dignity, or life. (...) He is comfortable in a hierarchy and would like to rule, but is willing to serve. He condemns others not according to their actions but according to race, religion, homeland, or social rank. He is loath to break laws or promises.

(...) Some lawful evil villains have particular taboos, such as not killing in cold blood (but having underlings do it) or not letting children come to harm (if it can be helped). They imagine that these compunctions put them above unprincipled villains.”

adam cares about the law, but he is willing to break from his morals if it means he will protect someone he cares about (as shown by how he puts his career on the line for antonio). he is a little bit of a bad boy, but one who prefers to follow the rules whenever possible.

neutral evil (olinksy):

“A neutral evil villain does whatever she can get away with. She is out for herself, pure and simple. She sheds no tears for those she kills, whether for profit, sport, or convenience. She has no love of order and holds no illusion that following laws, traditions, or codes would make her any better or more noble. On the other hand, she doesn't have the restless nature or love of conflict that a chaotic evil villain has.

Some neutral evil villains hold up evil as an ideal, committing evil for its own sake. Most often, such villains are devoted to evil deities or secret societies.”

olinsky understands the police department. he knows what will work and what doesn’t. he’s willing to break these rules when he knows that following them won’t get him anywhere. the “secret socities” could be considered his relationship with voight, along with his shared knowledge of who killed bingham. he doesn’t seek to break the rules, but will.

chaotic evil (voight):

“A chaotic evil character does whatever his greed, hatred, and lust for destruction drive him to do. He is hot-tempered, vicious, arbitrarily violent, and unpredictable. If he is simply out for whatever he can get, he is ruthless and brutal. If he is committed to the spread of evil and chaos, he is even worse. Thankfully, his plans are haphazard, and any groups he joins or forms are poorly organized. Typically, chaotic evil people can be made to work together only by force, and their leader lasts only as long as he can thwart attempts to topple or assassinate him.”

if voight were not a police officer, he would be extremely dangerous. but since he is a sergeant, he is not quite as dangerous. yes, he is hotheaded when it comes to defending the people/cases he cares about. he knows how to get what he needs and will do it, whatever the cost. like many chaotic evil figures, he is pursued by people who seek to overthrow him (the ivory tower).

~

what do you think? i’d love to discuss!

[bigskydreaming]

I was about to say, I can't see Jason letting his guard down as much as intoxication would. I CAN see Jason drinking apple juice and pretending to be drunk. (Funny how I can remember Dick drinking, never more than one or two drinks, and Jason refusing wine, but the fanfic writers get it al wrong.)

Yeah, tbh, I don’t really see any of the Batkids ever being or becoming even casual drinkers. They all value control too much, and have too much experience with mind and mood-altering substances for it to be appealing to them in my personal opinion. 

Just my personal headcanon is like, they tend to treat drinking as like, another skill to acquire. They try it to maybe just have enough experience with it that they can fake it undercover and know what they’re doing, or that if they end up in a situation where they have to take at least a quick drink to sell their cover like, they’re not going to be totally blind-sided by the taste or sensation, especially because most of their reputations don’t or aren’t likely to lend themselves to being completely unfamiliar with alcohol. And maybe they occasionally make an point to build up a tolerance in case for some reason they need it, but I honestly can’t really ever buy any of them as casual drinkers.

I mean, I focus a lot on Dick’s times brainwashed or under someone else’s control, and also his rigid insistence on self-determination in his life, and I just can’t honestly see any mindset where he’s like yes, lowering my inhibitions and lessening my ability to be in control of myself is exactly what I’m looking for. Its kinda like how I drastically disagree with takes on him as submissive in any kind of dom/sub fic, lol. Its not about the partner, its about the fact that Dick isn’t the kind of control freak who looks for opportunities to take a break from the stresses of holding such an iron control over his self.....rather, IMO, Dick is that way BECAUSE of how often he’s had virtually NO control of himself or what happens to him, and how much that always....sucks for him. 

He tries to maintain self-control and control stuff in his life wherever and whenever he can because he’s not about to lose any of the basically rare opportunities to not HAVE to push back against someone else’s will or expectations for him, where he can just be uncontested in being in charge of his autonomy and own destiny. And I honestly have never seen anything in his character that suggests he’d ever remotely be looking for or welcome to opportunities to basically just....willingly hand over the control of himself that he fights soooo damn hard to obtain and maintain....because when has that EVER ended well for him, you know? So I just....don’t buy sub Dick and never have, and I don’t buy Dick as a casual drinker even, for pretty much the same exact reasons.

Jason I see as a bit more complicated, because of a couple factors. First, there’s the presence of drugs and alcohol in his early life and how much that affected his life as just a bystander, essentially. And its not like every child of an alcoholic parent grows up to be hostile to alcohol, etc. But in Jason’s case I feel that he would be, like he’d almost personify drugs and alcohols as an actual antagonist in his life that have made him suffer, been the actual enemy that prevented him from having a real go at a family with his first parents. And thus he’d just be viciously opposed to them in their entirety, like even as a expansive, nebulous concept of them and everything related to them. Which would also play into things like his insistence that drug dealers in Gotham not sell to kids, etc.

Also, there’s the fact that Jason kinda ended up with....gap years in his development, where the normal linear timeline of developing as a teenager was derailed by his death and then supplanted by a very unorthodox later development that was guided by assassins and influenced by an external-turned-internal force that had a definite influence on his emotions and thought patterns at times. So Jason kinda missed out on a number of years where he could have potentially worked through a lot of his childhood issues with abuse, his parents and drugs and alcohol to a degree further than he did in canon, but just......never got the opportunity to. So it was like....hitting pause on all of that and then unpause when he actually came back to Gotham and rejoined society in his own way, as that put him around these kinds of things again and forced an internal confrontation with how he felt about them now.

And then there’s also the matter of the Pit itself.....much like Dick, but in entirely different ways, Jason has been extremely impacted by things that are not his fault or choosing, that originate OUTSIDE of him and end up controlling or influencing him internally, again through no choice of his own.....and thus, same as Dick, I don’t see how any substance that lessened his control over himself during the times he actually HAS it, would like....remotely appeal to him.

But then again on the other hand, I do think Jason is very self-destructive at times, not more so than Dick, as he can be very self-destructive as well, but just in different ways. Like, Dick IMO is someone who self-destructs quietly and over time. Suffering in silence, not availing himself of any of the opportunities he has to get help from others in various matters because he either doesn’t trust that they’ll prioritize him or he doesn’t feel that he deserves to be, or a combination of both. Jason, IMO, is neither innately more self-destructive or less, its just that....his tendency towards self-destruction manifests pretty explosively, like, in singular burning bright kind of instances that flare up, are just colossally bad decisions that he very quickly regrets, but then die back down and leave him cleaning up the aftermath, but at least having gotten whatever caused that particular turn towards self-destruction like, kinda out of his system.

So his means of self-destruction tend to just be LOUDER, and more.....in your face...but they also come and go more quickly, IMO. And one of those are pretty much the only time or reason I can see for him ever engaging in drinking or voluntarily giving up control.....like, the appeal specifically is a kind of self-punishment, and thus makes for an ideal weapon of choice at least once.....BUT again, the caveat there is like I said, I view Jason as someone who cycles through periods of self-destruction, but then he like...moves past it (or at least on a surface level, like, he FEELS like he has, though the initial problem often stil remains under the surface). But the point is, I think he regrets these instances of self-destruction soon after they happen....and I also think he’s someone who believes very strongly in not making the same mistakes twice. 

Like, he knows not to take things for granted better than anyone. Shit doesn’t go according to plan, my personal headcanon for him is his ideal followup is the immediate realization well, that didn’t work, time for something completely different....and then he does something completely different in the hopes of getting closer to his actual desired result. So I could see him doing something like getting black out drunk, etc, as one of these bouts of self-destruction....but the key in my mind, is I could only see him doing that ONCE. Once he’d done it and regretted it, it’d be crystallized in his mind as a Mistake and like, nope, not doing that again. Even when having another tendency towards self-destruction at a later date....I think he’d do it in a different way.

Also, I’ve never bought Jason as a smoker, like, I could see him faking it for The Mood or whatever, lol, but like.......this is a kid who grew up malnourished and thus had to take on criminals as a very under-sized Robin. He comes back after the Pit like, over six feet tall and well-oiled muscle that makes it SO much easier to kick ass as a vigilante? Why the FUCK would he ever screw that up by messing with his lungs or anything else, you know? If anything, I see Jason as being like, as much a ‘my body is my temple’ kind of guy as Dick is, just for different reasons.

I’ve always said I see Dick and Jason having a lot more in common than they’re usually credited with, and all of this is a huge part of why. They both just have HUGE issues with control in regards to themselves and their lives, and just being able to HAVE it and to take advantage of it, do what THEY want to do rather than constantly being moved about by the whims of others and having to always adjust or adapt to whatever everyone else was doing or the box they were being forced in by situations, etc. They’ve BEEN without control, self-autonomy, in ways and to degrees most people couldn’t imagine, so, like....its IMO more likely to be that much more precious and valuable to them than it is even to most people? Like, these are two men who I don’t see ever giving it up without a fight, and thus, they’re just like.....I’m gonna hard pass on the alcohol, etc.

And its got nothing to do with judgment on their part, I don’t think, like, other than the fact that they can’t personally relate to seeing the appeal. Its just the end result of lowered inhibitions/loss of self control or autonomy that they’re like...yeah, that’s what we’re not on board with, thanks but no thanks. Not for us.

I don’t have as strong of headcanons about the other kids just because they’re either too young or it just doesn’t come up as much, such as with Cass (though you can probably guess my headcanon for Cass there given that I talk about the similarities ALL three of the eldest Wayne kids share in a lot of ways, lol) but honestly I think it’d be more of the same with all of them, even if not always for quite the same reasons or quite as strong of reasons. Like, they’ve all been raised with too much reason to value self-control and too little cause to see lowered inhibitions as appealing, so the Batfam as a whole I personally headcanon as being nah, we get our highs from adrenaline and being weird as fuck, thanks though.

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Psycho Analysis: Senator Armstrong

(WARNING! This analysis contains MAJOR SPOILERS! Hell, just knowing Armstrong is the ultimate final boss is kind of a spoiler.)

The Metal Gear series is known for quite a few things: ridiculous over-the-top characters, complex and entertaining villains, awesome boss battles, and just generally being absolutely insane while also being very philosophical and deep. Now imagine, if you will, if all of those things congealed together into a single character. That, my friends, is Senator Armstrong, the final boss of Metal Gear Rising and easily one of the greatest characters in the entire franchise. He only has the cutscenes prior to his boss fight to establish himself, but I guarantee that you will never forget this man after you’ve beaten him.

Actor: Armstrong is portrayed by Alastair Duncan, who you may know as Alfred Pennyworth from The Batman, Mimir from the 2018 God of War, or Councilor Sparatus from Mass Effect. To say he does an incredible job is an understatement; his performance is easily the most hilariously quotable one in a franchise where nearly every single character is hilariously quotable.

Motivation/Goals: For a villain who comes almost entirely out of nowhere, he sure does deliver a very well thought out speech about his true motives:

"'I have a dream.' That one day every person in this nation will control their own destiny. A nation of the truly free, dammit. A nation of action, not words, ruled by strength, not committee! Where the law changes to suit the individual, not the other way around. Where power and justice are back where they belong: in the hands of the people! Where every man is free to think — to act — for himself! Fuck all these limp-dick lawyers and chickenshit bureaucrats. Fuck this 24-hour Internet spew of trivia and celebrity bullshit! Fuck American pride! Fuck the media! FUCK ALL OF IT! America is diseased. Rotten to the core. There's no saving it — we need to pull it out by the roots. Wipe the slate clean. BURN IT DOWN! And from the ashes a new America will be born. Evolved, but untamed! The weak will be purged and the strongest will thrive — free to live as they see fit, they'll make America great again! ... In my new America, people will die and kill for what they BELIEVE! Not for money. not for oil! Not for what they're told is right. Every man will be free to fight his own wars!"

Now, for those who don’t quite understand, let me explain: Armstrong wishes to end war as a business and create a Social Darwinist utopia, where all the citizens of America fight their own battles and the strong survive while the weak perish. From a certain point of view, his arguments actually do make sense, and considering America, and by extension the world, were until recently controlled by the whims of the Patriot AI, it’s not hard to see where he’s coming from. For what it’s worth, he very much despises the Patriots; in fact, Armstrong is ideologically quite similar to fellow Patriot-hating politician George Sears, AKA Solidus Snake, who coincidentally Raiden also fought. Hell, much like Solidus, Armstrong also has some connection to the creation of child soldiers.

Of course, it needs to be noted that while Armstrong definitely makes a good case, he is also a bonafide anti-villain. For those who need clarification, TVTropes describes an anti-villain as “a character with heroic goals, personality traits, and/or virtues who is ultimately villainous. Their desired ends are mostly good, but their means of getting there are evil. Alternatively, their desired ends are evil, but on a personal level they are far more ethical or moral than most villains and they thus use fairly benign means to achieve it, and can be heroic on occasion. They could also be someone or something whose desired ends or means are not necessarily ‘evil’ at all, but their actions simply conflict with that of whoever seems to be the protagonist.” While he does have good intentions and seems to genuinely want to better his country, the fact he resorts to terrorist actions, child soldiers, and ridiculous levels of violence makes him clearly the bad guy.

Personality: Armstrong’s personality is very, very intense. He is a man capable of delivering the most impassioned, honest speeches you will ever hear from a politician… and according to him, he doesn’t even write his own speeches! He is loud, he’s brash, he’s proud, he curses up a storm, but he also has lines he won’t cross and shows nothing but respect for those he fights, and when he beats Sam in the DLC storyline and when Raiden defeats him, he has nothing but respect for the men. It’s honestly impressive how they could cram so much nuanced personality into a man that is maybe onscreen for twenty minutes tops.

Final Fate: Of course, as is the fate of any politician who thinks he can beat Raiden, he is not only killed, but has his heart ripped out by Raiden and crushed in his hands.

Best Scene: The entirety of his speech to Raiden, where he explains his entire plan. Mostly for the fact that Raiden is likely as stunned by all of this as any first-time player.

Best Quote: Literally everything out of this man’s mouth is golden; there’s a reason he’s one of the most quoted, meme-worthy characters in one of the most quotable, meme-worthy games of all time. But credit where credit is due, his immortal words to Raiden as he kicks him like a football and apparently rips a hole in the fourth wall that lets in the cheering of a stadium crowd stand out:

“Don’t fuck with this senator!”

Final Thoughts & Score: Let’s get this out of the way right off the bat: Armstrong is an easy 10/10. But why is that? Well, beyond his personality, which basically consumes your attention, there’s a lot of symbolism to his final match with Raiden.

Firstly, there is the fact his philosophy is very similar to Raiden’s mentor’s philosophy. Much like Solid Snake, Armstrong sees a world where soldiers fight and die for causes they don’t believe in, and citizens being suppressed by meaningless, trivial garbage. The philosophies fork from there: Snake wished for a world of peace, where there would be no need for fighting anymore, while Armstrong wishes for a world of freedom, where all people choose to fight the battles that they want, where they decide what is worth fighting for and what isn’t. Armstrong knows he could never end all war; he just wants those who put their lives at stake to be doing it for good reasons, and not to line the pockets of bureaucrats. As Raiden carries on Snake’s philosophy in his own way, this is sort of a test of Armstrong’s ideologies, to see whose vision is truly worth upholding in this world.

This brings us into the symbolism of the fight itself, which is set up like a political debate, though of course one tailored to Armstrong’s “Might Makes Right” philosophy. Armstrong is running for president in 2020, so is it not fitting that he defend his viewpoints the way he believes they ought to be defended as the final great debate on the way to the presidency? There’s also the inherent symbolism in the weak vs. the strong, with Raiden representing all the long-suffering American people and Armstrong representing the politicians who prey on the weak. He is still a politician, and his philosophy outright values the strong over the weak, so Raiden is something for a voice for the voiceless, a hero to fight for those who cannot fight for themselves. Raiden in the battle represents what true strength should be: a tool of justice, used to protect those who cannot protect themselves, while Armstrong of course represents his own philosophies.

And of course, there is the fact that in the end, Armstrong s very much the shadow archetype to Raiden, a dark reflection of what he could be. As you may have noted, ultimately Raiden and Armstrong’s philosophies aren’t entirely different from each other. This is even pointed out in the song that plays over his battle, the epic “It Has To Be This Way.” The lyrics are as follows:

Standing here, I realize

You were just like me, trying to make history.

But who's to judge the right from wrong?

When our guard is down, I think we'll both agree

That violence breeds violence,

But in the end it has to be this way.

I've carved my own path, you've followed your wrath,

But maybe we're both the same.

The world has turned, and so many have burned,

But nobody is to blame.

Yet staring across this barren wasted land

I feel new life will be born beneath the bloodstained sand.

Beneath the bloodstained sand!

Armstrong isn’t just brilliant because he’s a hardcore badass whose every line is quotable and who is souped up on NANOMACHINES, SON! Armstrong is brilliant because of how he symbolically contrasts Raiden’s own philosophy and, even if he is ultimately defeated, has passed on some of his philosophy to Raiden in a way. Did Raiden not prove his philosophy was the correct one by killing Armstrong? Did Raiden not just fight for what he believed in, fought a war to prove the superiority of what he believed in?

Alongside Ocelot, the antagonizing forces of the Metal Gear series just didn’t get better than this.