#its about having godlike power over dozens of lives that you never asked for

[snow-lavender]

woman who goes feral for any kind of fourth wall break or meta-narrative: hey guys i think c!rina might be my favourite sherb

[yodawgiherd]

Incantation of Incineration pt.2

>>>Read on AO3<<<

As we were blessed by a continuation of the GODLIKE fanart, I have decided to keep my word (for once). Check the picture out if you didn't yet, you are missing out O_O -----> https://twitter.com/NxngOna/status/1388902556693405706/photo/1 Anyway, this one is a bit longer and a tad more sinful than the first one, so beware. Unless you are here for the filth, that is.

How does one control a demon?

That was the question at the forefront of Mikasa’s mind in the last week. Despite her doubts, despite all of her previous bad luck she finally managed to summon one but he was not obeying her in the slightest. The opposite in fact, she very much remembered his whispered threatening question.

“Do you feel in power?”

She didn’t, not back then, and Mikasa wanted to be prepared for the next time. Of course that there would be a next time! She had so many questions to ask, so many wishes to fulfill so many…

Ok, easy, first the controlling part.

The last time he was here the Demon was doing whatever he wanted. While it was only eating her out, for some reason, it was done out of his will and the goth was simply swept in it. Never again. Next time they meet, she will be the one in control.

Yet it was hard to fulfill such a wish.

The internet gave her dozens of websites, hundreds of articles and discussions, but combing through them Mikasa didn’t see anything that caught her interest. Searching the amazing book she found in the library, she didn’t find any help there either. If there was a demon-binding ritual, she missed it.

In her anguish the goth asked the smartest person she knew – her friend Armin.

“Ar, any idea how I could control a demon?”

He looked at her, pushing his glasses up a bit.

“What are you talking about?”

“I summoned one last week but I couldn’t make him do what I wanted.”

“I see…”, he didn’t believe her, of course he didn’t, but Mikasa didn’t mind that.

He would still help her because Armin was a ray of sunshine and the best friend a girl could ask for.

“Any specifics about this demon?”, he asked, “Might help me in my search.”

“Well, he was human-looking, but with horns and black claws. He also had strange markings under his eyes and there were torn shackles at his wrists.”

“Horns, markings, shackles…”, dutiful as ever, Armin marked it all down, “Okay, I’ll do some searching and see what I can find.”

Leaning over Mikasa hugged him, whispering a quiet thank you into his ear.

As always, Armin delivered.

It was in the evening when Mikasa was laying on her bed, eyes rowing over the text in her new spellbook when her phone pinged.

A: Found an article that matches the demon you told me about. Apparently you can bind him to you by the shackles.

M: what do I have to do?

A: You need a key which you have, use the one you keep wearing.

Mikasa did like to wear an old key around her neck, an old trinket she didn’t even remember where it came from.

A: The spell is described in the article, use that and the “Demon” should obey :)

Yea. “Demon”. Whatever.

M: thx, I owe you one <3

Opening the link Mikasa’s eyes quickly scanned the spell, muttering under her breath. She lacked a few key ingredients, the biggest one being a live bird (?) for some reason. The required red scarf – that was another thing that Mikasa owned, making her wonder just what kind of spell this was.

Luckily her parents were gone on another business trip and wouldn’t be back for another two weeks, giving her ample time to gather these things. She bought a canary in a pet shop, a new set of black candles and few flowers. Back home she made those into a flower crown, just as the spell required.

In the middle of the room stood the birdcage, the canary watching Mikasa prance around. The key was put in front of the cage, the flower crown around it. Last the scarf – the goth circled it around the crown before putting the candles in required positions, lighting them up.

There, that should be everything.

Keeping the article open on her phone Mikasa began chanting, strange words once again leaving her lips. Whatever those meant she had no idea, but the effect was almost immediate. First of all the candles snuffed out. Then the flower crown caught fire, burning into nothing in a split second. After that the scarf moved, flying towards her and wrapping itself around her neck without anyone touching it. Last it was the key – it turned on the ground with a screech and suddenly the birdcage sprung open, the canary flapping its wings and disappearing out of the window in a split second.

Mikasa stared at it all with wide eyes.

Well, that was quite something. When everything calmed and nothing moved anymore, she concluded the ritual. Hiding the birdcage and scarf and putting the key back around her neck, the goth prepared the usual pentagram with candles, pulling out the knife. Ready to cut herself under the eye again, she said the spell, raising the blade to her skin.

Yet before it could make contact, the smoke explosion was back.

Knocking her backward same as before, the Demon was there in full glory, eyes immediately flying to Mikasa. Thin lips twisted into a grin that exposed the sharp teeth.

“You don’t have to cut yourself anymore, my beauty, I have your scent now. When you call me, I will answer.”

Collecting herself from the ground, Mikasa took a deep breath and straightened, staring the demon in the eye. With just a slightly trembling hand she gripped the key around her neck, thrusting it towards him. It glowed, his shackles did too, and the demon’s face changed from smug to surprised.

“What is this?” he wondered out loud, raising his hand to inspect the torn chains.

“A spell I used.”, Mikasa said triumphantly, all giddy inside that it worked, “I bound you, you are now under my control.”

“Is that so…”

Slow, testing, he took a step towards her, the chains rattling slightly. Summoning all her mental strength Mikasa stood fast, clutching the key like a lifeline.

“S-Stop!”, she commanded the demon, praying to the dark god that the spell will work.

The demon’s whole body shook as he tried to take another step, muscles refusing to move.

“You…”, his eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint entering them, “You don’t know what you are playing with…”

With a grunt he threw himself against the invisible bonds, straining.

“Release me! Or I will make you regret it.”

Despite all these dangerous words, despite all the threats he was forced to stand still and Mikasa felt her lips curving into a smile. She won. Finally, she had a demon under her control.

“I don’t think that I want to do that.”, confident she circled the frozen statue, admiring his body now that she could take a good look, “I think that I will keep you.”

He had a lot of scars, crisscrossing all over his skin, cuts of all shapes and sizes. Fascinated by one that went around his throat, Mikasa reached out, running her fingers over it.

And that was a mistake.

Fast as lighting the demon’s hand caught her wrist, pulling her body against his. Suddenly staring upwards into his smirk, Mikasa felt all her newfound confidence melting away because there was pure rage hidden in the emerald orbs.

“That was a good spell you had prepared, witch, but unfortunately for you, I am very good at attaining my freedom.”

“I-…”, she tried defending herself but the demon wouldn’t let her speak.

His other hand came up, circling Mikasa’s neck and for a second she feared that he will choke her to death. That fear didn’t come true as instead of pressure she could feel his fingers drawing patterns into her skin.

“Let’s see how you like being controlled.”, he whispered, and suddenly there was searing pain on Mikasa’s neck.

She stumbled backward, released from his embrace, and fell to her knees, hands clutching her throat. It burned like hell itself and Mikasa screamed in pain, but as quickly as it appeared it was gone, leaving nothing but a memory in its wake.

Or not, as there was something hugging her neck now.

Carefully tracing the thing with her fingertips Mikasa identified a new choker. She had one before, a simple strip of black leather, but this one was different. It was more like a tight collar, adorned with metal spikes all around.

“How does it feel, being collared like a dog?”, the demon rumbled, getting her attention.

“I… Strange.”, she gulped, realizing that having this “gift” from a demon might not be a good thing for her wellbeing,  “C-Can you take it off?”

“I can but I’m not going to. First I have to show you what amazing things it can do.”, he pointed one black claw towards the magic book, lying on Mikasa’s bed, “You do love spells, don’t you? And what better magic is there than demonic one.”

“Wha-“

Again, the demon didn’t let her finish.

“What’s your name?”, he asked.

Mikasa didn’t want to tell him. Names had power, even more so in magic, and telling yours to a demon is a bad move. But as soon as the question left his lips she found herself answering, unable to stop the words from tumbling out.

“Mikasa Ackerman.”

He grinned upon seeing her confusion.

“See? I own you now, mortal. As long as the collar is on you, I can make you do anything I want.”, his eyes raked all over her body, a hunger appearing in them – the same one that was there the last time they were together.

“Anything…”

The thin, abnormally long tongue slid out of his mouth, licking his lips.

“And there is a lot I want to do with you.”

Despite literally owning her right now, Mikasa didn’t hear any malicious intent in his voice. There was the primal hunger, lust, and also a fair bit of anger but no real hate or resentment. He would make her pay, but it would not be done in a way that she couldn’t handle.

The implications left not only a tingle of fear in her, but also a tingle of arousal, and the goth unconsciously pressed her thighs together to hide it. Only it didn’t escape the demon’s ever-seeing gaze.

“Stand up.”, was his next order and Mikasa did so, body moving on its own.

“Take off your skirt.”, this time her face boiled red as she mechanically obeyed, and still the demon wasn’t done with humiliating her, “And your stockings too.”

Just as she unclipped the first garter, a new order followed.

“Do it slowly. Give me a nice show, I like watching you.”

And she did so, rolling the black material down her legs in the most sensual way she could muster, unwilling and unable to meet the demon’s eyes. She could feel them though, as his gaze burned its way all over her pale legs, now bare of any clothing. With her lower half in nothing but the black panties Mikasa straightened, waiting on the next command from her infernal master.

He was breathing heavily now, she could hear, every exhale laden with maddening hunger for her. Watching her undress got all the fires going, it would seem.

“As much as I would like to get on with the fun, I do have to punish you for trying to bind me.”, he twirled his long fingers, “Turn around and bend over, hands on the bed.”

Again, her body mechanically obeyed, turning around and bending over, exposing her ass to him. And what an ass it was, even better than the demon remembered. Pale, firm, and perfectly shaped, the memories of it in his hands made his mouth go dry. Not to mention the thighs right under, because those deliciously thick and muscled legs…. He was beyond hungry.

Not yet, he reminded himself, first the punishment. Then the fun.

There was a clink behind her and because peeking was not forbidden she looked over her shoulder, seeing that one of the multiple belts came loose from the demon’s black pants. He was twisting the leather between his fingers, snapping it.

The image itself was almost enough to make her fall on her face.

“I believe that a few lashes with the belts will do you good, wouldn’t you agree?”

It wasn’t an order, she realized, it was a question. The demon, a literal demon from hell, was asking her consent. Normally that situation would be so funny that Mikasa would burst out laughing, but that did not fit what was happening inside her body.

Logically she should say no, of course, but logic didn’t have a place here. She summoned a demon – one that gave her some incredible oral pleasure during their first encounter, one she tried to bind, unsuccessfully, and one that was about to give her some good old spanking in retaliation.

Fuck, she wanted it, she wanted it so much.

Biting her bottom lip Mikasa nodded, but the demon wasn’t satisfied with that.

“Words, Mikasa, use those.”

This time it was an order but he didn’t use the magic collar and when the goth girl spoke it was completely out of her free will.

“Yes, I deserve it.”

“Were you a bad girl?”

“I was… I was a bad girl, sir.”

Mikasa added that last bit unconsciously, and from the deep grumble she could guess the effect it had on the demon. Ooh, he liked that.

“Where I come from, there is plenty of sinners like that, so I have a good idea on how to fix you.”, the buckle clinked as he swayed the belt, “I want you to count the lashes, can you do that for me?”

“Y-Yes, sir.”

A satisfied huff and a bit of silence after, making Mikasa wonder if…

The first blow landed on her ass, the slap of leather against skin loud. Taken by surprise she cried out, the flare of pain running through the whole body.

“One.”, she pushed out and was rewarded by a second sting. It was painful, sure, but it also sent pleasurable tremors towards her core. Mikasa was always a bit of pain enjoyer, and this rough treatment was something from her wildest dreams. Being punished by a demon was more like fanfiction than reality, but it was happening to her -right here and right now, and she couldn’t be more turned on.

By the fifth hit, there were tears in her eyes.

By the tenth she was dancing on her toes, clenching against the belt.

Fifteen was enough to satisfy the sadistic demon, and when she cried that number through her tears, the belt dropped to the ground. Suddenly Mikasa was picked up, turned around, and practically slammed against the wall. Her legs automatically hooked around the demon’s waist while his hands held her, one around the neck while the other caught her wrist and pressed it against the wall, immobilizing her.

He was sweating, droplets of liquid sliding over his scarred skin but it wasn’t because of the physical exertion. No, it was caused by the inhuman effort it took to hold himself back from ravaging the teary-eyed goth right here and there.

Even as a demon, he had certain standards.

“You took the whipping well, too well even. Tell me, do you like pain?”

“A little bit…”, she muttered, very conscious of the fire raging between her slick thighs.

A grin spread across his handsome features, the demon couldn’t help but admire her face, now that they were this close. Her grey eyes were regarding him with a hint of fear in them, but there was also the undeniable arousal smoldering, and he wanted to see that fire burn.

Letting go of her for a second the demon grabbed the bottom of her black top, bunched between their bodies, and pulled upwards, revealing her chest. Nice pair of firm tits, covered by a simple black bra, just as pale as the rest of her.

Fuck, he wanted to suck on them.

Returning his hand to its previous place, anchoring Mikasa’s wrist against the wall, the demon spoke up.

“I punished you so now we can move on to a more pleasurable activity. However - I may be a damned soul but despite your stunts I do not wish to force myself on you. So I’ll ask now, and I order you to answer me truthfully – do you want me to go on?”

The goth girl in his arms shook with what he guessed was pure lust, squirming against the restrictive hold he had on her body. Her midnight hair slid over his nose, the addictive scent reminding the demon of just how amazing she tasted.

Forcing himself to wait was torture, yet he held on.

Meanwhile, Mikasa’s mind was doing leaps and bounds all over the room. Her ass hurt but it was nothing compared to what was happening in the other place – she was beyond wet at this point, so turned on that stopping her hips from rubbing on the demon’s amazingly muscles stomach was a chore. Yes, she had to prevent herself from humping him like a sex-starved maniac. His words weren’t an order, just like last time, and when Mikasa spoke it was her own lust doing the talking, nothing else.

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to touch you?”, he continued.

“Yes.”

“Now…”, he leaned closer, next words a whisper, “ Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Hng... I…”

“Answer!”

“Y-YES! Please!”

The self-satisfied smirk grew even wider.

“Well, all you had to do was ask…”

Letting go of her wrist for the second time the demon moved his hand between her legs, rubbing her place of weakness through the dark underwear.

“So wet for me, so willing…”, gently he nudged her face with his nose, rubbing skin on skin, “Is this what you want so much? To be railed by a demon?”

PleasePleasePlease

Unable to speak from the sheer amount of want inside her, Mikasa settled on nodding rapidly.

The hand moved again, much to her dismay, this time stopping in front of Mikasa’s face. A bit of transmutation magic later the claws were gone, replaced by black fingernails.

“Open.”, an order this time and Mikasa’s mouth fell open immediately.

Pushing his fingers between her lips, a new command followed.

“Suck.”

Again she obeyed, swiping her tongue alongside those long digits.

“As much as I want to take you right now, I must stretch you out a bit first.” The demon went on monologuing, his eyes glued to her face, “I’d prefer it if you screamed in pleasure when I fuck you, not in pain.”

Those words went right into Mikasa’s core as she throbbed, impatient to finally have him touch her. Maybe sensing her eagerness the demon pulled the fingers out, dropping his hand between her legs instead. Panties nudged aside and suddenly he was rubbing her directly, fingers parting her dripping pink lips. A slight tap on her swollen clit had her gasping for air, but the opened mouth proved to be a mistake.

The demon practically attacked her, lurching forward to press his lips against hers. The abnormal tongue was back, once again slipping into her mouth and caressing the familiar places. At the same time, his digits finally pushed inside her, slipping into Mikasa’s wetness with a somewhat disgusting sound. The moan forced from her throat by the penetration was swallowed by him, keeping her silent.

For now.

Even without the main treat it was still a full meal. The demon fingered her expertly, curving his digits to rub the good places inside while also keeping his thumb occupied by toying with Mikasa’s clit. The kisses were rough and breathtaking, sucking any oxygen from her and he only left her lips to attack the neck instead, biting and kissing everywhere, renewing the faded lovebites from a week ago. Again and again, those sharp teeth sunk into the porcelain skin and Mikasa felt like she was going to go crazy.

Not even fucking her yet but she was already on the edge. The demon sensed it, of course, having his fingers deep inside her, feeling the contractions of her walls grow faster and more desperate. Smirking into her skin, a single word fell from his lips.

“No.”

The collar burned around Mikasa’s throat and she found her body obeying, disregarding her wishes. On the edge but not falling, she found herself unable to climax, somehow being prevented from doing so by vile demon magic.

“You bast-“

Her protest was cut short because her lips were slammed by his own, stealing Mikasa’s ability to express herself. Whining in protest she was rudely ignored by the demon, who took his time to scissor the fingers inside her instead, stretching her open, preparation for what was to come.

Despite being denied her release Mikasa’s body was more than enjoying this. She was moaning into the kiss, writhing on his fingers, ready and waiting for him. Seven hells be damned, he couldn’t wait any longer. Tearing the panties away with a flick of his wrist and letting his pants dissolve into a puff of black smoke, the demon grabbed his painfully hard length as he angled it correctly against the inviting wetness.

Push.

Mikasa’s eyes widened, and her mouth fell open when she felt the head of his member parting her. She didn’t get a chance to look at it but judging from how it felt the demon was rather well endowed. The girth was impressive, stretching her beyond anything she felt before right down to her limits. This was a lot she was taking, and the demon was unyielding, hands gripping her waist as he impaled her, inch by inch. Insistent he forced himself in and Mikasa couldn’t do anything about it.

Yet her body accommodated to this fullness and the unpleasant feeling was replaced by a pleasant one. He went on and on until she feared that he will ram himself all the way into her guts but just as she was about to ask him to stop, the demon was fully sheathed.

Mikasa had never felt this filled in her life. The head of his member was pressed against the deepest part of her sex, no more space and no more length combining.

“Fuck,”, he cursed, “we fit together perfectly.”

On her part the goth couldn’t say a word, so full of him that thinking was impossible. Not that the demon mind that.

Gripping her waist he slowly pulled out, letting his length rub all the nice places inside her. When only the tip remained he reversed his move, pushing in again. In it went with a wet sound, out it went glistening with her juices, and he almost went feral upon seeing that.

Pushing down the need to ravage her, to split her open by ramming himself inside with full strength he continued this gentle dance of his hips, forcing her body to get used to him. Only when he felt her muscles weakening - when she gave way did he speed up.

In and out like a jackhammer, the demon was finally rutting into her with added strength and Mikasa couldn’t take it. She whined and moaned and gasped, unable to control her body at all. Her head fell back, knocking at the wall while her fingers curved against his back. She was holding onto him for dear life, black fingernails creating bloody lines in their path and adding to the plethora of scars on the demon’s back.

Still she couldn’t climax, still the collar’s magic prevented her from doing so and the goth could feel her sanity slipping away. She would beg if she could but Mikasa’s voice wasn’t of any use to her, anytime she opened her mouth only a sound of pure pleasure came out.

Helplessly open, Mikasa’s “Ah-Ah-Ah” was a direct feed to the demon’s ego. Oh, and what an egoist he was. Her voice was one thing, but when she throbbed down there – that was a feeling the demon etched into his memory with each thrust.

Edged, led on, and denied with the orgasm at the border of her vision, Mikasa was truly losing it.

She couldn’t speak so she screamed, screamed in pure desperation because the demon was now ramming the deepest part of her over and over again, grunting into her neck. Mentally she begged – with her eyes, with her touches, with her legs that squeezed his waist.

This was some truly hardcore fucking she was on the receiving end of, and Mikasa needed to let go, she would go crazy otherwise. The coil in her stomach was wound impossibly tight but unable to snap and it was getting too much to handle. The tears that fell from the grey eyes slipped over the red cheeks and landed on the demon’s body, finally waking him up from whatever pit of pleasure he was in.

Watching her, listening to her, and feeling her all around him, the demon deemed the punishment complete. Not even slowing down in the wild hammering of his hips, the slaps of flesh against flesh echoing through the room, he spoke. Three words, one sentence, and it was the most beautiful sound that Mikasa ever heard in her life.

“Cum for me.”

The collar’s magic was gone, the barrier dissipated, the coil snapped and the dam broke. Mikasa howled, her eyes rolling back and vision going white, black spots dancing all over it. The orgasm ripped through her entire being, from the tips of her curled toes to the ends of her sweat-matted midnight hair. She clutched to the demon because he was the only link to reality that she had, and the goth had to hold onto something otherwise her mind threatened to break completely, swept away by the overwhelming raw pleasure.

Sensing that if he kept it up she would truly go insane the demon slowed down, letting himself fully enjoy this feeling. Her walls fluttered like the wings of a trapped butterfly, the already tight passage grew even tighter and pulsed around his whole length. It felt amazing, out of this world and if he wasn’t a demon he would call it heavenly.

The slight wiggle of her hips woke him up from that place, putting him back to reality. Mikasa was watching him with wide grey eyes, pupils completely blown, the movements suggesting that she wanted to go down from her perch against the wall. She probably thought that this was it, that one mind-shattering orgasm is enough of a gift.

She was wrong.

“None of that.,” he denied her, tightening his grip on her sweat-slicked body, “I am far from being done with you.”

With those words, the most intense night of the goth’s life began.

During his aggressive fucking Mikasa’s remaining clothes, namely the black top and bra, were torn to shreds, leaving her in nothing but the spiked collar around her neck. In some strange need to bare her completely the demon even snapped her own choker away, leaving only the one he gifted her on.

The key was also allowed to stay and it dangled uselessly between her now fully exposed breasts, reminding Mikasa of her failed attempt to capture the demon. Now she was paying for it, when his sharp teeth closed around a nipple, sweetly tormenting the sensitive flesh.

Overall the demon took his time with her chest, kissing, licking, groping, and biting all over her breasts. Her chest was ravaged and Mikasa was bound to have so many bruises bloom on the skin tomorrow. Yet that was a problem for the future Mikasa to handle, the current one cared only about how great it felt, to have the demon’s teeth and tongue all over her tits.

She was taken in more positions and in more places than Mikasa could even count. The bastard spiked her pleasure with pain, slapping her ass while taking her from behind, irritating the welts that didn’t even get a chance to fully form.

Every suitable, and some unsuitable, place in her room was defiled by their activities as she was being maneuvered here and there by his unyielding touch. The demon expertly shifted his torment from denial to overstimulation, giving her more than she could handle and then some. He fucked her right into an orgasm and then right through it, holding her writhing body as she lost her consciousness in an unending stream of pleasure.

A sharp bite into the neck woke her, but if Mikasa thought that she was getting a break she was wrong. It felt like the longest night of the goth’s life and it was far from over.

Mikasa came a lot, losing count early into the debauchery, but the demon never finished, holding his release back. He also never tired, his demonic stamina far outpacing the one of a poor mortal. While at the start Mikasa was an active participant in their activities, by the end of it she was practically limp, praying to the dark god that she will survive this endless assault on her body and mind.

When the morning sun peeked at them from behind the windows, when the demon saw that his partner was on the verge of total blackout from sheer exhaustion, slipping in and out of consciousness, did he allow his iron self-control to break.

Coherent enough to pull out at least, he decorated her muscled stomach with spurts of unnaturally hot release. Wouldn’t want any half-demons running around now, would he? It was a lot, a night's worth of it, and Mikasa felt some splash as high as her face, but she was too far gone to care. Being a perfect demonic gentleman he even cleaned after himself with a muttered spell.

Only after himself though, so Mikasa’s filth was left behind for her to take care of. Whatever it was the limitation of the spell or just the demon’s twisted sense of humor, that would remain a mystery.

Just like that, it was over.

He was slipping out of her embrace and soon would be gone, leaving Mikasa with nothing but the ache and exhaustion. A deep part of her needed something, anything to hold onto, a word to connect these memories to, and “the demon” didn’t cut it anymore. She reached out, weakly grasping his wrist but he didn’t pull away, turning back to look at her.

“Please…”, she whispered, only half-coherent, “What’s your name?”

“My name? Demon’s names have powers, great powers, we do not give it lightly.”

“You know mine, it’s only fair.”

He snorted.

“A mortal name in exchange for an eternal one? Hardly equal.”

“Please…”, she begged again, “I want to remember you by it.”

For some reason he couldn’t explain, those words were tugging at the very base of the demon’s existence. He shouldn’t be this affected yet this mortal, this exhausted, sweaty, and filthy mess that could hardly string two words together after a night of demonic sex, this bundle of trembling muscles and pale skin marked by blooming bruises he left behind, this beautiful piece of ass that was welted by his belt just had power over him.

It wasn’t any spell the demon knew, but it was perhaps the most powerful pull he ever felt in his whole damned existence. He couldn’t say no to her.

He simply couldn’t.

“Eren.”, he said, “My name is Eren.”

Leaning down he pushed some of the sweat matted hair away from her angelic face.

“I hope that I won’t have to wait long until you summon me again, Mikasa.”

Giving in to the temptation the demon pressed a last kiss to her forehead, strangely loving and very un-demonic. And with that he was gone, disappearing back to wherever he came from.

On the ruined bed Mikasa sighed, already missing his warmth.

Was there a way to make him stay longer? Maybe even… permanently? The thought of having a full-time demon boyfriend made her giggle and she pressed her face into the pillow to muffle it.

The leather choker-slash-collar was still on her neck, gently tight around the skin, most likely left behind as a gift, and Mikasa already knew that it would become her everyday accessory. The spiked looked might be a bit too aggressive for most people, but she couldn’t care less. It was a gift from a demon, her demon, and she would treasure it.

Eren. His name was Eren and she would be seeing him again.

Soon.

[clansayeed]

Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ― Chapter 18: The Side Effects

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ⥽

While struggling with nightmares of lives she’s never lived, a shadow from the past looming over her city, and the proposed idea that her life may just be a little bit too weird to handle alone, Nadya makes sure to tell herself that everything is perfect just the way it is. If only. When the self-proclaimed King of Vampires (and Maker of her sometimes-girlfriend and always-boss, can’t forget that little tidbit) Gaius Augustine returns intent on claiming Manhattan as the throne that was promised, she and her friends find themselves forced into the task of saving the world. But with millennia-old vampires and an Order of hunters on their heels as well as allies hiding catastrophic secrets at their backs… it won’t be an easy task. Too bad destiny didn’t exactly ask for her input.

Bound by Destiny II and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off, Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Destiny II tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

These things take time; a lesson Nadya is learning the hard way as she continues her psychic training. Guilty consciences are eased, an old flame gains new fire, and a night out on the town doesn't go as planned.

[READ IT ON AO3]

Six weeks later…

“Perhaps we shall make this our last trip for the night, ma chérie?”

There’s a hint of chiding in Serafine’s voice but it lacks real heart. That much is obvious by her amused little smile when Nadya throws a look back to her. It certainly doesn’t help the woman’s case that during these last few excursions into her halls of psychic memory she’s pretty much been given free reign. Like a kid in a candy store.

“If you’re saying that because you’re worried about me tiring myself out — I actually feel really good this time. So maybe, like, one more after this?”

Her enthusiasm gets a little laugh in return. “We shall see. It wouldn’t do to overexert yourself too soon. Now — come back closer please. We won’t be wandering aimlessly this time.”

She falls back in step at Serafine’s side; eyes widening in surprise. “Then why are we here?” A completely innocent question that by all accounts should have had an equally innocent answer.

But there isn’t one single instance in history when a stretched out and tense silence meant anything good. Well… she supposes she’ll find out soon enough.

There’s no doubt in Nadya’s mind that the real Hall of Mirrors in the real Palace of Versailles — only a metro ride away from their apartment — is still breathtakingly beautiful. She doesn’t even doubt that a connected woman like Serafine herself could get them into the Palace after hours for a real, physical tour of the place. But there’s a unique beauty to seeing it in its prime. Everything still fresh and new and dedicated to the Sun King rather than those who came after his reign.

There must be a hundred candles above and around them. But they are, for the purposes of this memory, a source of light rather than heat. Even when Nadya stands on tip-toe and brushes the flat of her palm through a steady orange flame she doesn’t feel so much as a tickle.

Just another oddity to hammer home Serafine’s first lesson.

You are not a participant in the world around you, here. You are merely a voyeur — there to observe and nothing more.

They reach the center of the long and glittering Hall. Serafine stops and gives her an expectant eye. “How are you feeling; has anything changed?”

“Nope — everything’s still crystal clear.” Even in her excitement Nadya knows the importance of these questions. This may look like a field trip on the outside but deep within it’s just another in a long string of exercises. And they’ve been working at them diligently; every night for over a month now.

Frankly it’s about time all her hard work started paying off.

Out of the corner of her eye Nadya sees a flicker in the normally steady light. The flames of half a dozen candles barely clinging to their candelabra’s moorings giving a little impromptu dance. Just a small wind, she tells herself; and chooses to ignore the contradicting stillness of the window drapes.

“Is something supposed to happen?” Is something happening already?

Serafine nods in reply. “Up until tonight, our focus has been on the first step — the crossing of the bridge between minds and memories. But memories aren’t portraits frozen in time. By their very nature they are alive and in an endless cycle.

“The task we’re undertaking won’t be one you can find in an abandoned landscape, Nadya. When the time comes you must be ready to bear witness.” If only the apology in the vampire’s furrowed brow wasn’t more unsettling than it was reassuring… “And I regret to say not everything you take in will be beautiful.”

The candles waver around them again. Casting long shadows and dewdrops of golden light across every shining mirror. Bitter experience has Nadya almost certain she does not want to look into one. Better to spare herself even a brief glimpse of any number of dark and horrific deeds.

That’s the thing about bad memories. They are far too easy to conjure up — no matter who they belong to.

“Perhaps we’re attempting this too soon.”

Concern catches in the woman’s normally carefree tone and drags Nadya’s attention back outward — makes her shake her head insistently.

“I’ve gotta do it sometime. We’re already here, so let’s try it.”

“Are you sure?”

“No pain, no gain.”

Whether the vampire believes her or not, she accepts it. The memory continues.

Sharp footsteps echo back in the direction they had come from. Serafine looks up with a strange resignation in her dark eyes; her normal soft-humored smile replaced with pursed lips turned down somber and stoic.

Nadya doesn’t have the chance to question her about it before Gaius waltzes through the open doors.

He’s not real — he’s not real—he’s not real. She repeats the mantra until the thought is all-consuming but that doesn’t make it any easier to see him. He looks exactly the same after all. As does the familiar cherubic face that skips happily away at his heels.

Marcel.

Every step Gaius takes is with purpose. His eyes are trained forward but from where she stands it’s like he’s looking right at her and even though her brain is a broken record screeching he’s not real he’s not real he’snotreal nothing can stop the noise she chokes out; the hasty one-two-three steps back she takes before he passes her right on by.

She breathes.

You aren’t a participant in this world. You’re just a voyeur.

Marcel’s face lights up and he takes off in a dash, calling out “Serafine, Serafine!” gleeful and grinning. Nadya turns just in time to see him leap into her arms. She swings him around in a full circle before setting him down. They exchange familiar kisses on either cheek.

All at once the child’s face goes sour. The delight of reunion now gone and replaced by something much more important. Nadya knows this because she can feel the trepidation rolling around her insides in that now-familiar phantom way. A feeling that only comes with memory.

“Tell me it isn’t true, Serafine,” he practically whines; throws an arm out behind him to gesture vaguely in Gaius’ direction where he hangs back from the pair politely, “please tell me it isn’t true!”

The two older vampires lock eyes. Serafine wars with the guilt creasing her brow. Her King, as ever, able to compose himself utterly porcelain.

“You know full well I wished to tell him myself.” Her dress billows out as she takes to her knees.

Gaius shrugs; clasps his hands together behind his back. “It happened to come up; in my defense I thought you had already told him.”

Child’s hands cup Serafine’s cheeks. Marcel’s lower lip wobbles.

“Why won’t you come with us?”

She covers one of his hands with her own. “My work here is not yet done, petit. Not while the Holy Knights still lurk in the Sun King’s shadows. Surely you of all people can understand that.”

“But where we’re going… there won’t be any Knights.”

“For your sake I would pray so.”

“Banner is coming; Kamilah too! I cannot bear the thought of leaving you behind!”

“And your love brings me unbounded joy, but —”

“How can you stay here Serafine,” he interrupts, “after everything they did to us? In the New World we can start a new life! One without having to worry about the Knights, or—or any of their silly human struggles.”

Serafine quirks an eyebrow up at Gaius. “I would dare say the struggles in a unfamiliar world would be far greater.”

The man inclines his head. “Steps have been taken to ensure we will be well-received.”

“How can you be certain?”

“Do you doubt me, Mademoiselle Dupont?”

There he is. The Gaius that Nadya recognizes, who she struggled to try and find under his powdered face and frilled collar. But she knew he couldn’t resist showing his true self for long. All this decoration is just another glamour. He’s still a monster beneath.

Quickly Serafine bows her head; speaks a low “Non, My King,” and is forced to wait until he silently accepts her apology to regard him again, “but I have seen the struggles of new nations before, as you have. What is to stop the Holy Knights from following you across the world? They have done so before; surely they would again.”

A shiver runs down Nadya’s spine as she watches Gaius’ eyes burn red. Dozens of flames reflected that give him an awe-ful power; something near godlike. Even though she knows firsthand he won’t see that kind of power for centuries to come it still leaves her frozen in fear.

The Vampire King smiles down at the pair cold; confident.

“I would hope they try. For then I will show them what happens to their kind in my Shadow Kingdom.”

The world around her begins to blur at the edges much to Nadya’s relief. Pinpricks of flames growing brighter, whiter; until they swallow her and the three vampires whole. Until Gaius and Marcel are left in the past and that version of Serafine with them.

Then all she sees is the black void and flashes of nameless colors behind her closed eyes.

Nadya waits until the high-pitched ringing in her ears dies down; gives way to the sounds of the apartment and the strange life they’ve built within it. She knows from tragic experience that coming back to herself, to her own head and the present with it, so soon would only end in nausea and the occasional nosebleed. Funnily enough she’d rather avoid that this time around.

When Lily’s laughter from the other room is louder than the noises in her head, Nadya knows she’s in the clear.

It takes a few blinks for her eyes to adjust. She reaches blindly and feels a cool glass slide into her hand. Her thumb brushes over Adrian’s — he waits patiently until she has the strength to hold it on her own. Each gulp soothes the itching, burning rawness in her throat. A welcome relief.

“How do you feel?”

“Honestly? Kinda fuzzy.”

She regains full and clear sight just in time to catch the furrow in Adrian’s brow. “‘Fuzzy,’” he repeats; and he’s two seconds from scribbling the word down on a notepad before she stops him.

“It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“But you just said —”

“Yeah, well…” Nadya turns her head to look across the table; to Serafine and her (rightfully, absolutely justified, totally warranted) guilty expression. “I wasn’t exactly expecting to hang out with Gaius tonight, so fuzzy is better than the alternative.”

The woman grabs for her waiting glass of wine and sips. Tries—and fails—to be idle about it. At least she isn’t pretending like she didn’t throw Nadya for a loop.

“What the heck was that about?”

Serafine swallows after a moment. “It was not my intention to sneak the memory upon you, Nadya.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“You’ve been progressing so well, ma chérie. The decision was a spontaneous one; not to mention a success, do not forget.”

“Yeah, but…” Surely she gets why Nadya’s not the happiest camper! “Did it have to be him?”

“I was advised you work well under pressure and with little time to think.”

“By who?!”

She regrets it the second she asks. No, she knows the answer the second she asks. It’s pretty obvious after all; possibly even more than since Nadya isn’t alone as she and Adrian whirl around in their chairs to look through the doorway into the living room.

Jax is just a little too focused on his book to actually be reading it.

“Nadya —” Serafine drags her attention back with a hand over hers, lacking warmth but still just as soft; she still tries her best to keep that frown front and center, “— you did remarkably. Far better than I could have hoped. Ask yourself; do you feel any of your usual aches or side effects?”

Under the pair’s scrutiny Nadya does go through her mental checklist. However reluctantly. The ringing is all but gone and whatever stomachache she’s feeling is probably because she hasn’t eaten — for fear of the nausea she doesn’t feel either. Every physical followup she’s experienced since they began the painstaking process of dismantling her ‘psychic walls’ either isn’t there or is so faint it’s easily attributed to being human.

Her defeated sigh is met with smiles from both Serafine and Adrian — rude of them but… still. “No,” she reluctantly admits, “but that kind of pain usually only happened when the memories were being pushed at me, you know? It was all chaos and noise and crowds and stuff I couldn’t understand. But… that doesn’t make what you did okay.” Since Nadya really doesn’t know which was worse; the pain of being practically assaulted with vampire memories or the stress of having to even look at Gaius’ dumb face.

At least she gives Nadya that. “I apologize for my deception. But this is fantastic news. It means we can begin pushing your boundaries, seeking what we need; what all of this time has been for.”

All of this time, she says; like Nadya hasn’t been struggling with her self-imposed guilt every single day. Like she hasn’t been pushing herself — sometimes a little too far too quickly — because it’s been six whole freaking weeks.

Six weeks of psychic Karate Kid training.

Six weeks of (admittedly delicious) gut-wrenching French food and wine.

Six weeks of absolute radio silence from New York.

“We will begin plotting our course tomorrow evening.”

Serafine drags her attention back to reality as she stands; Adrian with her out of habit. She grabs her coat from the back of the chair and folds it over her arm. The last look she throws Nadya’s way is a proud one.

“May I walk you out?” Adrian asks and offers her his arm. It takes everything in Nadya’s power not to burst into knowing and maybe even childish giggles. Like he hasn’t walked her out every night since they started this?

But hey — with roommates as nosy as them she gets his want for even a little bit of privacy.

The woman takes his offer with warmth in her eyes. “I would be glad of the company,” she accepts. The pair exit the apartment with remarkable grace; especially seeing as their sharp vampires ears definitely hear their audience’s laughter the moment the door closes behind them.

When she’s gulped down enough water to hope the Gaius in her head is drowning, Nadya joins Lily on the couch with a box of leftover macarons. It’ll be sunrise soon; not enough time for them to get into any trouble worth the effort.

“Any-f’ing ah’ all?” Nadya asks around her mouthful of sugar; jerks her chin in the direction of the news station Lily must have settled on some time ago.

It’s no surprise when Lily shakes her head. Nadya doesn’t even know why she asks anymore.

Yes she does. Because she’s Nadya.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna come with us?” But this is the third time she’s asked and by now the jig is up — Lily knows full-well she keeps turning back because it’s an excuse to try and inch her way away from the door. A way to try and find a reason to stay right along with him.

Judging by the wry amusement in Adrian’s little smile he’s pretty aware of it too.

“I’ve never really been a club kinda guy. But don’t worry about me — you guys go have fun and have a drink on my behalf.”

“See?” Lily all but snaps. “We’ve practically got his permission to go!”

Jax can be seen through the open front door; waiting in the hall with arms crossed over his chest and foot tap-tapping in exasperation. “You can’t force her to go if she doesn’t want to go, Lily.”

Which is something even Nadya has a hard time believing. It’s like he’s never met her or something. Or maybe it’s because he has — because he knows trying to convince her that she isn’t the Grand Master on High in Control of Nadya’s Fate will only ensure their night out could only be stopped by a nuclear apocalypse.

Nadya wrenches her wrist out of Lily’s grip with no small amount of effort. If she bruises, someone’s sleeping on the couch. “Nadi’ I swear to God —”

“I’m coming, okay?! Yeesh just…” Her words trail off when she looks back to Adrian. All on his lonesome at the kitchen table normally shared by at least two others, staring at his laptop screen with his usual work-busy furrowed brow and his index finger curled over his chin in deep thought.

“Just gimme a minute, okay?”

Lily holds her hands up in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. You’ve got three minutes before I haul you out over my shoulder. And don’t think I won’t.”

“I know you too well.”

“Damn right.”

She closes the door behind her, separating them and leaving Nadya and Adrian actually and properly alone. When it’s clear he won’t be looking up from his screen of his own free will she huffs her way over to him, practically stomping in her heels by the time she gets there, and forces the lid closed with an open palm.

Adrian jumps back, startled. Even with superhuman senses he gets too lost in his work too often.

“Well hey there stranger,” sarcasm dripping from her drawl, “welcome back to reality.”

Adrian tries to frown but there really isn’t any heart in it. He’s barely frowned at all these last few weeks — not unless Psychic 101 ends up leaving her with a headache the size of the Eiffel Tower. It’s been refreshing to see; which is what makes seeing even the shadow of it now all the more frustrating.

“Please come with us?”

He takes her outstretched hand and squeezes it with his own. “I’m not kidding about the clubbing thing, Nadya. And I don’t want you to miss out on my account. Go, have fun, enjoy the real Paris for once. Serafine is right — you need a break. I think we all do in our own way.”

Nadya’s eyebrow almost becomes one with her hairline.

“You know this —” she circles her finger around the laptop, “— this is the exact opposite of taking a break.”

“Not for me.”

She’s probably winding down on her allotted time. When Nadya reaches out Adrian meets her halfway; both of their hands together swinging between them. He’s probably thinking the same thing, too, since he throws a look towards the door fully under the assumption Lily is about to storm her way right back through. Likely while using Jax headfirst as a battering ram.

Adrian brings her back to reality with a tiny squeeze. “You don’t have much time left to tell me why you’re really so hesitant. I’d use it wisely.”

Nadya whines; it comes out more petulant than anxious which definitely wasn’t her intention in the least. Luckily Adrian knows her pretty well already.

“Are we bad people for doing this?” She asks, and bites her bottom lip.

“What, going out?”

“Doing something fun.” Because Kamilah definitely isn’t having fun. Maricruz definitely isn’t having fun.

So by that logic they definitely shouldn’t be having fun. Right?

“Nadya… c’mere.”

And this, right here, is the reason she’s okay with not being able to double back to her apartment for her anxiety blanket. Adrian’s hugs are just as fulfilling; just as calming. She buries her face into his shoulder and squeezes so tight her arms start to prickle with pins and needles and he knows just the right amount of pressure to give back.

He pets her hair with a small sigh. “I don’t think I’m telling you anything new when I say this, but things… aren’t all that great right now.”

“Wow, really?”

“Really. But this may surprise you — things are still going to be not-so-great tomorrow. Or the day after, or the day after that. It’s terrible, I get it. Every night I wake up and my first thought is always the same; ‘this isn’t the day I’m going to fix things.’ And that eats me up inside. I’m sure you’ve seen it… because to me it feels like if I try and pretend I’m not battling those thoughts then I’m doing a disservice to everyone who stayed behind; especially to those who didn’t have a say in the matter.

“And there’s nothing wrong with feeling that way, or thinking negative thoughts. In fact, I think they can be great reminders for what we’re working towards, here. What everything is for.” Adrian eases her back, practically forcing her to look him in the eyes. He may be smiling more but in the end that doesn’t make up for the fact that Adrian likes to shoulder a lot of the world’s emotional guilt. Nadya does, too. It’s probably why they get along so well, huh? “But if you don’t step back and remember what makes the loss of something so sad to begin with, then you can get caught up in all that negativity way too easily.”

Nadya’s sigh is a heavy thing, but she feels the weight — the burden of it lessen like the oxygen in her lungs. Adrian’s right; they both know it. But how dare he use his years of experience and immortal wisdom against her like this.

How dare he make her feel so young.

“I know.”

He nods. “Kamilah stayed behind because that was the right thing to do. But I think we both know she’d be giving you the lecture of a lifetime if she knew you were spending all your time beating yourself up about it.”

Ugh, true. “Yeah, and when she would be done all the time for going out would have been used up.”

“Exactly.” He kisses her forehead and tries his level best to shift her hair back in place. He fails, of course, but nobody’s perfect.

“So go and enjoy yourself for tonight. You’ll feel less guilty tomorrow, I promise.”

“Promise me you won’t brood here all alone tonight, instead?” Which makes Adrian laugh and leaves Nadya more than a little confused. Less so when she catches his smile.

“Who said I’m going to be alone?” He glances at his watch. “Serafine should be here soon. And you guys were supposed to be long gone by now.”

Ew. He’s staying behind to get lucky.

“Just… don’t forget to put something on the door,” after a quick ruffle to his hair for revenge, Nadya slings her purse over her shoulder and makes to scram, “your tie, a sock, something. I’ve seen enough things to scar me for this lifetime.”

“Not funny, Nady—!” She cuts him off with a closed door.

Jax heaves loudly. “Finally — can we go?”

With Lily’s arm looped in hers Nadya starts to walk rather than give him a verbal answer. “This side of you scares me, you know that?”

“Not me,” Lily chimes in, “after my banger I’m convinced you were a regular Travolta in your heyday.”

“White suit and all?”

“White suit and all.”

Their laughter follows behind Jax like a banner of shame all the way down the apartment stairwell.

By the time they make it to Hip-Trendy Parisian Club Number Three, there’s nothing left for them to do but finally be honest with themselves.

None of them are really “club people,” and even if they were there’s something so fundamentally wrong with the sight of people partying, kicking back; enjoying their lives. Of course these random strangers don’t know any better; their lives are weird and complicated in their own unique ways but for Nadya, for Jax and Lily? All they see are blissfully ignorant victims dancing and grinding and drinking their way through the end of the world.

Not that they don’t nab a few of those drinks for themselves on the road to enlightenment.

Lily forces her way none-too-gently through the throngs of neon-clad pretty faces, finally arriving to their little standing table like she’s made it home from a decade-long war. Nine shot glasses scattered on the tray, more than half of them the same color purple as her locs, and they all grab one and raise the first drink in cheers the same way they had at the club before this, and the club before that.

“For Kamilah.”

“For Mari. Salud.”

“For the Shadow Den.”

In what is now a well-rehearsed choreography, the trio knock back their glasses with gusto. Is she following Adrian’s advice and trying not to wallow in guilt, yes. Does that mean they can’t take a drink for the things their hearts ache for, absolutely not.

Artificial lime flavoring does wonders for masking the alcohol’s burn all the way down to her stomach where it settles just about as well as every other weird flavor before it. When Nadya comes back up she sets the glass down a little too heavy-handed; lets her world spin for a moment in ways that have abso-tootly nothing to do with vampire memories or psychic visions.

Well, that’s what she thought, anyway.

Her brain has a different idea and has decided (without her permission, to be clear) that it’s totally okay to blur the lines between reality and memory. It wants her to see things that aren’t actually there.

Oh, he looks like he is. Sticking out like a sore thumb in his crisp but ill-fitting suit and a scowl that probably sealed in place when he was Turned. Among the party-goers and club kids he’s not easily missed and the fact that he isn’t even trying to blend in all but hammers home the fact that he can’t be real.

Much to her surprise Nadya doesn’t even have to think hard to place where she’s seen his face before. Then again all of the Baron’s goonies look the same at the end of the day; stock-cut henchmen out of a bad British spy flick.

One second he’s standing there, a literal sore thumb in the neon-colored chaos. Three blinks later he’s gone; retreated back into Nadya’s unconscious where she will, inevitably, replay the events of that night on the airstrip over and over and over again.

“Welp, it’s official,” Lily takes her remaining two and knocks them both back together, because why not apparently, “we are the biggest bummers to ever bum around Bummertown.”

It’s enough to bring Nadya out of her Bloodkeeper weirdness and back to the others. Jax, leaning over the table with his head sagging onto his palm, looks to her for translation. Not the first time tonight.

“We’re very sad, dear.”

“Oh, yeah. But that’s not a real place, right?”

“No, dear.”

He clicks his tongue and takes his time sipping something with edible glitter swirling around inside. Flecks shimmer in dazzling rainbow on his upper lip when he’s done, but she can’t muster more than a “heh-nheh” at the sight.

“That’s the double-edged sword of being a mosquito, you know?” Lily looks at them both like they should very much know what she’s talking about. They do not.

Nadya pushes her glasses up carefully. “Uh… pardonnez-moi?”

“You know…” flicking over one of the empty glasses, “on one hand, you can’t get drunk. No hangovers is literal nirvana. On the other hand, you can’t get drunk. And I think I’d give my left tit to be drunk right now.”

“You did always prefer your right one.”

“It’s better shaped.”

Twin looks make their way to Jax at the same time, and finally there’s something worth laughing at. He’s looking between them like they’ve burst into spontaneous French and he’s never heard the like in his life, and that’s pretty freakin’ hilarious. He doesn’t even let her try to translate in between bouts of laughter; just holds up his hand and looks away with a disgruntled “I don’t want to know, I really really don’t.

“But —” and doesn’t that make them snap back to attention, “— I’ll agree about the booze thing. It’s not hitting the spot, you know?”

Lily nods in solidarity. “Just what I was thinking.”

“We could always try somewhere else?” Nadya offers, and tries not to look as utterly offended as she feels by the mutual sympathy the vampires send her way.

“Not like that, it’s… Lily, you explain it.”

Subtle wink. “It doesn’t —” —subtle wink— “— hit —” —subtle wink— “— the spot, Nadi’.”

Not the way Jax would have done it but he did hand it off, so that’s on him. “Not like we were dining out every night at the Shadow Den, but sharing the rations on Raines’ plane between three vampires doesn’t even reach the bare minimum. D’you get it now?”

Yeah, she got it after the first wink, but thanks for hammering it home. And she feels pretty bad about not considering their plight earlier — choosing instead not to look when the day’s blood bag makes the rounds rather than make sure everyone was getting their fair share.

As she sweeps a long look over the crowded club, though, it doesn’t seem like one or two people heading off for an hour or two would be all that noticeable. Right? The advantages of fast-paced urban crowding.

“If you guys need to, like, do the thing, I could be lookout?” she offers. Jax doesn’t miss a beat to laugh, like she’s suggested robbing a bank to meet a measly bar tab, but when he glances to Lily she isn’t joining in. In fact, she looks incredibly thoughtful.

“No.”

The younger vampire whines and stops her foot against the concrete dance floor. “Come on… we’re careful! And it’s just once.”

“We haven’t scoped the territory, noted the exits… we’d be sitting ducks for that order of hunters.”

“I get that,” Nadya agrees in earnest, “but do you really think there’s enough of them to scope every club in Paris, or even all of Europe?”

“I think risking it is inviting trouble.” And maybe she’d be content to let the matter rest if he looked as sure as he sounded. But it isn’t a trick of the lights that have his eyes changing color; Lily’s either. Nadya recognizes the look and by now she’s been around vampires long enough to know when the hunger starts to hurt more than the reasons for it help.

All it takes is for Jax to look at the flicker of desperation Lily normally keeps hidden in her eyes. Maybe it’s easier for someone else to feel it, too. “Okay, okay,” he grunts out, immediately sliding into a different kind of leaning stance. One that reminds Nadya of a tiger; of the predators they actually are. “But we do this as carefully as possible, and we need to find someone who won’t think twice about what’s going on.”

Lily grins wickedly. “So someone high off their asses, got it.”

Anyone else — and perhaps even a version of Nadya in which none of the events of the last year-and-then-some have never happened, thus making her staggeringly normal — would—should—find this to be ‘too far.’ But that version of her doesn’t exist. The last year-and-then-some did happen and Nadya would rather her friends do what they can to keep themselves safe and strong and very much not easily beaten bloody. Despite all of that and with her compromised morals aside, though, she draws the line at actually helping them find someone. That’s a bit like asking a vegetarian which beef tenderloin looks the best, isn’t it?

The girl Lily and Jax finally agree on is ordinary. Well, ordinary in a hangs-out-in-French-clubs kind of way; so almost alarmingly pretty in ways Nadya doesn’t want to describe for the health of her own self-image. There’s a moment where she wants to question their choice only because she doesn’t… look like she’s on something. But when Jax goes over with his dark hair swept a bit over his eyes and the top three buttons of his shirt undone and does his thing — Nadya realizes she’s just a hilariously bad judge of sobriety.

Probably doesn’t help that she’s not too sober herself.

Could be minutes, could be ages, either way Jax finally gets the young woman to follow him out through the back door of the club. “He told her he had a motorcycle,” Lily tells her, making sure to lean in and keep both of their heads down as they abandon the rest of their drinks and follow soon after, “which actually isn’t that bad of an idea.”

“What a gentleman.”

“Actually you’d be surprised. He dresses like a bad boy but he’s pretty tame once you get to know him.” No matter how much she wants to doubt it, though, Lily would know wouldn’t she?

Abandoning the humid atmosphere of the club for the outside world is like traveling to a whole different planet. And it’s one Nadya isn’t sure they should be on; not when the abrupt shift in all her major senses acts as a big fat slap in the face to the fact she’s definitely had more than she thought. It’s like the lack of constant thrumming of bass in her veins throws her off-kilter; has Nadya reaching out for Lily’s arm to steady herself on something, well, steady.

“You sure you’re okay to be lookout?” She gives Nadya a once-over that’s just long enough to show she’s reconsidering. Which simply cannot do. So she pulls up her Big Human Girl Pants and practically shoves Lily away.

“I’m fine!”

Lily’s eyes narrow in suspicion. “I dunno… you’re reminding me of Easter again.”

“Hush, we promised never to speak of Easter.”

“Well at least you remember that.”

It’s the perfect place for this sort of thing; an alley only open at one and and with a large chunk of old wooden pallets stacked precariously against one wall and a dumpster pressed up against the other. The smell isn’t exactly what Nadya would call appetizing, and it can’t be much better for Lily’s hyper-senses, but the hunger wins out over bad smells just like it does over continuing to argue. She squints through the fingerprint smudges on her glasses, trying to catch a glimpse of Jax in the darkness, but all she can see are shadows. Can’t even tell if they’re moving or not.

“Is he back there?” Turns out sight isn’t what was needed, though. Nadya isn’t exactly familiar with dingy alley makeout sessions but she does know what intense kissing sounds like. “This is gonna scar me for life.”

Lily pecks her cheek; when she pulls back her eyes are bright and red and near-primal. “You’re the best B-F-F ever, you know that?”

“Yeah, yeah, go… slurp or whatever.”

She’s lookout, remember? No amount of money could get her to follow and watch.

With a couple (light) smacks to her cheeks and a big gulp of wintery air Nadya whirls around on her heel. The club back door is on her left, the mouth of the alley dead ahead — oh yeah, nobody’s gettin’ in here without her knowing about it.

Well… nobody except for the returning hallucination of Evil Henchman #1.

“Just ignore him, he’s not real…” Nadya mutters under her breath. The same thing Serafine had her say the first time this had happened, and every time after. Eventually her psyche will re-align itself or… re-build her defenses or… whatever technical term there was for the echo of her own memory going away on its own. “Or at least try and think of someone less ugly.”

The hallucination frowns; deep lines carving themselves into his face all the way up around his lumpy bald head.

Nadya’s halfway to pulling out her burner phone to beat Lily’s high score on ‘SNAKE’ when it dawns on her.

Hallucinations don’t react.

“Found you.”

[salamanderergfanfictions]

BSD, mult. chars, Yosano, Atsushi, Chuuya POVs, fight with Dos.

Title: The Narrow Space Between Breaths

Notes: The majority of this was written before season 3, yet, I was reading the manga at the time, so it weirdly contains spoilers as well as totally disregards it.  I also will be the first one to tell you--I don’t fucking know how Rashomon works.  I just don’t, if someone would explain it to me, that’d be great.  Also, if someone would just like to explain to me the...whole plot of BSD that would be great, kthx.

The take-away is, I took hella liberties, I had hella fun writing it, so the most I can wish for is if someone enjoyed reading it at least a little bit.  Thanks!

Summary: A fight with Dostoevsky, and the aftermath.

“How fortunate that you are all in the same spot, it makes things easier,” Dostoyevsky smirked. “I’m going to rid the world of unsightly Ability users with a godlike power. You can’t stop me yourself, Dazai. Only gods can duel one another, and I don’t plan on being challenged.”

Dazai’s eyes widened.

“Armed Agency members,” Dazai’s voice echoed across the warehouse, gaining everyone’s attention by the urgency in which he spoke, “Protect the chibi!”

“Who?” Kunikida yelled.

Dazai pointed to Chuuya with a dramatic swoosh of his arm.

“What?” Chuuya started as all the eyes of the Agency members turned to him, “I don’t need any of your shitty people protecting me!”

“Don’t worry, Mister Fancy Hat City Guy!” Kenji said, raising his fists over his head, “We’ll protect you!”

“I don’t need your—that is not my name!”

“Port Mafia, do the same. Defend your executive with your lives,” Mori said calmly, leveling an intense glare at Dostoyevsky. “And if there are any of our men left standing should Chuuya-san die, I will kill them myself.”

“Hey, hey,” Chuuya’s eyebrows shot up, deeply confused at the concern Mori was showing as well as the threat against his subordinates, “What the hell is going on?”

“Chuuya-chan is the biggest threat to Dostoyevsky’s plan right now,” Dazai said, more for the benefit of the Agency members, “He just said it, ‘Only gods can duel one another’.”

“But what the hell does that mean?” Kunikida shouted.

“While it’s true that I’m the only one that can match Dostoyevsky intellectually, this isn’t just a battle of wits. And in terms of pure power, even god-like power,” Dazai left off to glance at Chuuya, a dark, assessing glint in his eye that knocked the other man back a couple of years and dozens of missions. “In its raw form, there is no match for Chuuya’s Ability.”

Chuuya grimaced and looked down at his gloves, “You fucker. So, I guess that means...”

“If you would,” Dazai nodded, before forcing a cheesy smile on his face and tilting his head, “Only if you want to, of course.”

“You fucker,” Chuuya repeated harshly, tugging off his gloves and throwing them to the ground. “You better stop me, when it gets too—”

“I will.”

Chuuya’s breathing quickened, ”None of that suicidal bystander bullshit. You void me when you get a chance.”

“Have I ever let you down before?”

“Don’t ask me a question with an answer like that right now!”

“Chuuya,” Dazai said in warning, his teasing smile gone as he watched his Agency members fighting Dostoyevsky’s henchmen.

“I got it.” Chuuya grit his teeth and put the appropriate amount of dramatics into his next words as he stared at his hands waiting for the black and red stains to overcome him, to rewrite who he was and control his body as if Chuuya Nakahara never existed in the first place.

“‘O, grantors of—’”

He was cut off as a bullet bent around him and ricocheted off the floor, it was high caliber enough that a large divot was left in the cement. Chuuya turned around to glare at the sniper laying on the rafters above everyone.

“...That could’ve hit my hat,” Chuuya said darkly, clenching his fists in outrage, “I’m gonna kill that fucker first.”

“Actually, Chuuya would be much more useful if he focused on Dost—”

“‘O, grantors of dark disgrace,’” Chuuya recited again, forgoing dramatics this time for pure fury, “‘Do not wake me again.’”

—

There was a lot of carnage, a lot of blood, a lot of dust, rocks, and the groaning, broken, dying, dead bodies scattered throughout.

Yosano came to after healing herself, blinking blood out of her eyes and coughing up dust. She wiped a line of spit and blood from her lips as she pushed herself up with one hand, looking around for her comrades. Dazai had yelled for everyone to retreat from the building not long after whatever Nakahara had become...the pure hell that had been unleashed. Yosano had seen destructive Abilities before, but never anything as raw and indiscriminate as that, not when being channeled through a person—a person who supposedly was their ally. The last thing she had seen before turning her back to try to make it out was Nakahara sending a massive black hole toward his own men, cackling madly from blood-soaked lips while doing it. The sight and sound had chilled her to the bone. She hadn’t envied Dazai having to wade into that chaos for the chance to get skin on skin contact, though she knew that was the only hope they had to make it stop.

It was quiet now, quieter, at least.

Yosano gave one more hacking cough and stayed kneeling on the floor till she was sure her shaking was under control.  One of her heel tips had snapped off, which was going to make it difficult to balance, but she wasn’t about to walk around without anything covering her feet, not with all the jagged pieces of stone, rebar, and nails littering the floor.  The clothes and shoes Yosano was wearing were beyond salvage, though even she would not have wanted this kind of excuse to go shopping.

Thankfully, she hadn’t gotten pinned down beneath any columns or large stone slabs. It would have been horribly inconvenient to be crushed and just waiting to slowly bleed out before being able to heal herself, over and over as the cycle repeated. Yosano had seen the kind of mental break that kind of stress could induce on someone second hand, she had no desire to experience it—

Her eyes went wide.

“Kuni-Kunikida!” She yelled, getting to her feet quickly, wobbling on her uneven heels, to hurry to her friend’s side.  The man was further away from the door than she was, which meant he hadn’t given up on trying to get Dazai to leave with him, even as load-bearing columns were being destroyed.  He was limp on the floor, the longest strands of his ponytail were quickly being stained from blond to red.  The puddle of blood and hair were stretching away from Kunikida’s head like the corona of the sun.  I might have enjoyed it, Yosano thought in fragments, each step on the cement floor jolting a different thought into her brain, I might have thought it was pretty, maybe I would be laughing…

Yosano tumbled gracelessly to Kunikida’s side, her hands trembling as she reached toward his neck, his skin cold as ice against the pads of her fingers.

“Idiot,” She cursed in relief as she felt a thready pulse almost the same instant her butterflies gently landed on his cheek.

Once he was safe to move, she began dragging him toward the door herself, an exhausting task as she did her best to avoid the worst of the debris as well as keep balanced. Eventually she had to stop and take a break before attempting to continue, barely holding back a frustrated yell.

“I got him,” A voice behind her said, a head of bright blond hair accompanying it. “Is he all healed?”

Yosano gave Kenji a quick once over, but the young boy looked as hearty and hale as he ever did and nodded, “Yes, just get him out of the building for now.  Is Tanizaki with you?”

“Yep!” Kenji smiled, “He had to call Naomi first, and I think she’s yelling at him ‘cause he has a silly expression on his face.”

Yosano brushed the comment aside easily, “Come back in when he’s done, I still don’t see Dazai or Atsushi anywhere and we need all the hands we can get.”

“Okay!” Kenji flashed a thumbs-up before lifting Kunikida up enthusiastically.  Yosano almost laughed at the sight of the two of them walking away, a young boy carrying a man almost two times his body length like he was an overgrown baby, his legs hanging off the side and skimming the ground. Instead, she let out a heavy sigh and looked around again, only a few people were up and moving now, and none of them in an off-white coat or with white hair.

“Yosano-sensei, if you’re done staring into space, your assistance could be used,” Mori called out to her, his voice lilting and recognizable in a strange way.  Yosano felt an irritated twinge go up her spine as she glared at him and that disgusting smirk on his face.  But she was still a doctor, and there were people, mostly Port Mafia members, bleeding all around who needed her help.  Just because Mori was here didn’t mean it was the same as the other time.

Over the next few moments, muscle memory took over and Yosano quickly got to work on the people around her. As expected, Mori was unscathed, almost suspiciously, taking into account where he had been when the major wall had collapsed, but he was tending to the injuries he could as well as performing a kind of reverse triage for Yosano.

“He’s dying,” Mori could be heard saying in a bored voice and Yosano would rush over, regardless if that person was Port Mafia. Working like this with him as a partner brought up bad memories and a sickening feeling of familiarity that she fought hard to ignore. She concentrated on her work, the broken bones, the gashes and gaping wounds.  Most of her own had just been wounded superficially, only Kunikida had, unfortunately and thankfully, been the worst. Kenji had left him leaning against a miraculously still standing wall outside in the sunshine, dazed, covered in his own blood, but not a scratch or bruise on him.  Atsushi made quick work of a rock that had pinned him down toward the back of the building, pushing it off with transformed tiger arms, and then had tried to make a hasty retreat in the wake of Yosano’s generous, yet overzealous, offer to heal him.  Much to Yosano’s delight, he had not been fast enough.  He was now lifting stone slabs along with Kenji as Tanizaki very reluctantly played nurse to Mori. The young boy could be heard making noises of disgust every once and a while followed by Mori chuckling.

Yosano opened her mouth to snap at the doctor to leave him alone—

“Did you hear that?” Tanizaki said, his head perking up, but he didn’t move from his task of keeping the Black Lizard member from bleeding out. “Did anyone hear that?”

Yosano wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, “Hear what?”

“I did,” Mori said with a curious tone. “It sounded like—”

A cough.

Kenji pushed and lifted concrete pieces until the infinite black of Rashomon could be seen under it. As soon as there was no more reason to be activated, Rashomon returned to its owner, unveiling what it had been protecting.

“Hello~” Dazai greeted them all chipperly, looking as if he was perfectly at home underneath a ton of rocks, two Port Mafia members, and covered in blood.

Yosano raised her eyebrow at his tone, “I almost got my hopes up seeing that much blood, but it’s too bad my Ability won’t work on you.”

Dazai grinned at her, “The only thing I’ve been in danger of is being bored to death by my abysmal company. It’s such a disappointment I wasn’t able to be buried alive with two beautiful women instead, I wouldn’t have minded that as much.”

Akutagawa let out a cough. Despite Rashomon having returned to a coat and the danger of being crushed gone, he still hadn’t moved from his shielding position over Chuuya and Dazai, supporting his body on shaking arms.  Chuuya was pinned below Akutagawa and on top of Dazai, bleeding heavily from his mouth and head, soaking Dazai’s shirt and coat.  He appeared to merely be unconscious, but Yosano could see he was breathing shallowly.  She couldn’t even begin to fathom the physical toll an Ability like that took on the body of the one using it, Nakahara had looked like he was being crushed from the inside out just a few moments after activating.  But from how he and Dazai had been talking before, this probably wasn’t the first time, which meant he had survived before and would survive again.  As long as Dazai got to him in time.  Yosano wondered if she would be able to trust Dazai that much with her life, deciding on the answer before she had even finished the thought.

“This one’s been coughing in my face for the past ten minutes,” Dazai said drolly, lifting his chin up at Akutagawa. “Tuberculosis would be such a terrible way to die. Too slow.”

“Give the hat guy here,” Yosano said gruffly.

Dazai held up his hands, “What, do you think I’ve been clutching him to my chest the whole time?  He fell on me, and then this idiot fell on both of us, ruining a perfectly good death by crushing.  It would have been fast and lethal.  Akutagawa, get off.”

Akutagawa finally seemed to come back to himself and rolled off to the side.  In the back of her mind Yosano made a note to check on him as soon as she was done with the Port Mafia executive.  She carefully turned Chuuya on his back, without any help from Dazai, who merely stayed laying down on the ground like it was a comfortable bed.  Or perhaps he was imagining it was a coffin with the way his hands were folded peacefully against his chest.

“Is he dying?” Dazai asked, a smile creeping on to his face.  Yosano gave him an answering grin of her own.

“Not fast enough,” She said gleefully, raising her machete she had pulled out of nowhere, and letting loose a truly terrifying cackle.

--

A few feet away from them, as Yosano worked, Akutagawa was pushing himself to his feet, stumbling away from the wreckage with a determined look on his face, before tripping over some smaller pieces of concrete.  He went to his hands and knees hard, his breathing slowing as sweat rolled from his forehead and down his face.  He squeezed his eyes shut and a few more drops hit the floor.

“Are you okay?” Atsushi bent down next to Akutagawa slowly, laying a gentle hand on the other’s shoulder.

His hand was roughly shrugged off as Akutagawa got to his feet with the same dogged determination as last time.

“Get off me,” He leveled a glare at Atsushi, though the effect was diminished by the paleness of the other’s face and the tremors of fatigue running through his body. Atsushi backed off anyway, holding his hands up with a nervous smile.

“I was just—”

“Shut up,” Akutagawa snapped, “I don’t need your help.”

Atsushi watched Akutagawa take a few more shaky steps before collapsing to the ground again. This time he stayed down, his breathing coming out in ragged gasps even in unconsciousness. Atsushi moved to check on Akutagawa again without the other being able to refuse his help, but another Port Mafia member with long black hair reached him first.  The man in black gently moved Akutagawa’s head to his lap and although Atsushi couldn’t see the other man’s mouth, he could tell he was smiling.

“He reached his limit under there, continually using Rashomon in a defensive position against tons of rock, knowing any slip of control could mean his executive getting smashed,” Dazai explained in a bored tone of voice.

“And his mentor,” Atsushi added with a meaningful look, “You were in there with him too.”

Dazai shrugged.

“You should probably thank him,” Atsushi pushed, not bothering to tear his eyes away from Akutagawa and the Port Mafia member to look at Dazai’s reaction. “I know I will.”

“Thank him?  If he had practiced using Rashomon defensively when I wanted him to, it wouldn’t have taken that much concentration in the first place and he wouldn’t be in this mess.”

Atsushi pursed his lips, “I’m still going to thank him.”

“Atsushi-kun is so thoughtful,” Dazai’s voice lilted in his ear, “Doing unnecessary things.”

The comment made Atsushi frown even more, and he turned around to retort, but Dazai was already walking away.  At first Atsushi thought Dazai was hanging his head because he was somewhat cowed by what Atsushi had said, but that didn’t seem likely.  Atsushi watched him for a few more seconds in confusion, as Dazai slowly walked a random path through the rubble, his eyes focused on the ground, before understanding.  Though he couldn’t think of anything that Dazai had with him that he would have been able to lose.  Maybe it was his book on a thousand ways to commit suicide.

Atsushi turned back toward Akutagawa, intending to attempt to approach the other man again, but something caught his eye several feet away.  It was wedged between two large pieces of cement, bent out of shape and covered in a light layer of dust, but still recognizable.  Atsushi used his tiger arms to push the pieces apart, pulling it out gently once there was enough room. He was pleased when it almost immediately retained its former shape.

“Dazai-san,” Atsushi called out, holding the item up in his hands, turning it, “This?”

Dazai turned around, his eyes going wide in surprise for a half second as he saw what Atsushi was holding up.

“Heh,” He let out a light chuckle as he walked forward, “Like I said, Atsushi-kun is too thoughtful.”

Atsushi beamed and held it out for Dazai to take, “I wasn’t the one looking for it.”

Dazai shrugged nonchalantly, slapping it against his leg to try to get even more of the dust off.  He held the object up and squinted at it, assessing, “But seriously, isn’t this the ugliest hat you’ve ever seen?”

--

Chuuya felt light and bubbly, like his body and insides had been given a power wash.  He also felt strangely naked with his coat, hat, and gloves missing in the wreckage of the building.  Chuuya didn’t want to look around for them though, he didn’t want to see any of the bodies of his subordinates that had been caught in the crossfire, either when part of the building had collapsed or by his own hand. Mori and the Agency’s doctor had been able to heal some, but Chuuya could still remember the looks on the faces of the ones he had aimed at himself, their screams as limbs were blown off or the silence as they were swallowed up into nothing.  Chuuya looked down at the pale skin of his hands, clenching them hard enough that his short nails dug into his palm and they ached from the tension.

“Shame, even Yosano-sensei’s Ability couldn’t fix your ugly face,” Dazai quipped from behind, extremely disappointed when Chuuya did not react.  He could see the other man was still dazed from the aftereffects of Thou Shalt Not Die, a bright, glassy look in his eyes as he stared at his lap.  It was the best shape Dazai had ever seen Chuuya in after using Corruption, he was kinda pissed about being robbed of being able to see the stupid face Chuuya made as he slept.  It had been too dark in their makeshift tomb and Dazai had to perpetually turn his head away every time Akutagawa coughed.  It had been doubly annoying that neither of them had even responded just a little to his genuine, sincere attempts at a meaningful conversation.

“Here,” Dazai shoved a black bundle under his nose, sitting down beside him once Chuuya had taken the clothes with a shocked expression. “Close your mouth, I can smell the wine from here.”

Chuuya blinked slowly as he looked down at the pile.  His coat was folded in a precise square with his pair of gloves laid neatly on top. There wasn’t a speck of dust on either of them.  Chuuya put on the gloves first, feeling more like himself once the leather covered his hands and the cotton-headed feeling of the doctor’s Ability began to fade.

“Hey, you wouldn’t happen to know where—” Chuuya was cut off as Dazai plopped his hat on his head with a put-upon sigh, pressing down till it covered Chuuya’s eyes.

“Yes, though it pained me to even touch such a tacky thing.”

Chuuya righted the hat on his head, “You didn’t wait around as long you usually do before stopping me.”

“Chuuya was bringing down the whole building and Dostoevsky escaped, so there was no more need. Besides, it wasn’t as much fun watching this time.”

“He, what?  Escaped?”

Dazai shook his head, “Don’t worry about it now.  We’ll see him again, you can avenge your subordinates.”

Chuuya absentmindedly shook his head, “I won’t be able to avenge my subordinates unless I kill myself.”

Dazai grinned slyly, leaning back on his arms, “What a strange mood you are in this evening.  You’re not my usual type, but I suppose an exception could be made considering our history.  How about it, does Chuuya want to die with me?  We can spend eternity in the afterlife together.”

“Ugh, I had been taking peace in the fact that I wouldn’t have to deal with you in death, but you’ve just soured that thought.”

“Chuuya started it.”

“I was—” Chuuya started, his voice coming out hoarse and tight, “I was saying that the one who killed my subordinates was me, only my death would avenge theirs.”

“I can follow a basic conversation, you know.  I’m not as dumb as you.”

“Shut up.  I’m obviously not going to do that though, so…I can only offer compensation to their families, if they had any, maybe donate to a charity or something.”

“How altruistic of the Mafia member.”

“Not altruism, business. The Port Mafia donates money to a lot of charities, you should remember that.”

“I do, it is a good strategy.  A great strategy, one might say.  A genius strategy—”

“Shut up.”

“It’s not going to help. Not you, anyway.  Donating an outrageous sum of money to people in need won’t get the screaming out of your head, the terror-stricken faces, and the knowledge that you’ve killed people who were under your command.  Who looked at you like you were a monster in their last moments.”

Chuuya swallowed heavily, missing the numb, tingling feeling he had before this, wishing he could go back to that time a mere few minutes ago when he felt like he was floating above his body, that none of this was real.  He didn’t want to hear what Dazai was saying, it was insensitive, and ill-timed, but nothing that hadn’t already been ringing around in his own head.  Chuuya had killed people before, people he knew, people he didn’t, men and women, young and old, but he had always done it with the knowledge that they were enemies of the Port Mafia.  He had always done it in his right mind, for the past four years at least, and even before then, Dazai had been there to control him. This had all been Dazai’s plan today, a stupid plan, in hindsight.  Unleashing Corruption in such a small space with so many of their allies around, it had been a Hail Mary, and it had failed.  Dostoevsky had escaped, and as usual, the Mafia had suffered many more casualties than the Agency.  Chuuya’s authority might have even been damaged over this with the survivors, and he couldn’t help the small thought eating away in the back of his brain that perhaps Dazai had done this on purpose.

Chuuya slowly brought his gaze to Dazai’s, narrowing his eyes, trying to assess what was going on behind that dead stare.  Maybe Chuuya would be able to see something to prove that Dazai had planned all this in an effort to cripple the Port Mafia and take down Dostoevsky all at once, if that good-goody two shoes persona he showed the Agency was really just a big act like Chuuya had always suspected.  Chuuya had seen Dazai do similar things when they were younger, he wouldn’t put it past him now.  Dazai might have been able to change the color of his clothes overnight, but re-dyeing the soul took a lot more effort.

“So don’t b—” Dazai paused to reconsider what he was going to say, either ignoring or unaware of Chuuya’s suspicious stare, “Speaking from experience, performing a couple of good deeds doesn’t completely erase your past wrongdoings, nor does it lessen the burden on your soul, or magically make you a better person.  But it helps, if you really try, it does help.  It’s all you can really do anyway.”

Chuuya’s eyes widened, that wasn’t flippant or teasing.  It didn’t make light of the deaths that Chuuya had caused or taunt him for caring about them. In fact, it had almost seemed…honest. Chuuya’s heart started beating faster as a thought occurred to him.

“Is that why you left the Mafia?” He asked, pushing himself into Dazai’s space, deciding to quickly take advantage of the rare sight of a serious, candid Dazai.  Dazai looked taken aback by the question, his eyes popped open comically, and Chuuya grinned at having caught Dazai by surprise for once. He spent the next few moments in breathless silence, aware that should Dazai deign to answer, almost four years of doubt and hurt feelings could be resolved.

“Yes, and no,” Dazai finally said.

Chuuya dropped away from his former partner, his former executive, “What does, what does that mean? What kind of shitty, ambivalent answer is that?”

“It means yes and no, Chuuya-chan,” Dazai sing-songed out, his eyes squeezing shut as a large grin spread over his face.

Chuuya’s shoulders fell, and his eyes slowly drifted back to staring at his hands, clenching and unclenching them with the calming feeling of tension from the leather against his knuckles.  These are a new pair, He thought absentmindedly.

Chuuya knew he wouldn’t be getting anything else out of Dazai now, the other man’s mask had already been put on, the walls were fortified, and Chuuya had never been allowed past them. He may have been given glimpses, but never trusted with more than that.  Dazai…Dazai had seen everything of his, whether he had waited for Chuuya’s trust or not.

“Thanks,” Chuuya said after a moment, unable to think of anything else and deeming it innocuous, and true, enough for him to get away with.  No matter what he told himself, it felt like dust coating his tongue. “Asshole.”

Dazai’s smile stayed as big and fake and cheesy as ever, “Of course, partner.”

Chuuya looked away. The conversation still felt unfinished, an inhale that had been stopped before filling the lungs, incomplete and unsatisfying. It hung in the air around them, permeated by dust and rubble and death, by all the words Chuuya wanted to say, and all the words Dazai wouldn’t ever.

The silence stretched on between them, as usual.

How long would this one last?

--

End

[backupblaise]

48 Laws of Power

1. NEVER OUTSHINE THE MASTER

Always make those above you feel comfortably superior. In your desire to please or impress them, do not go too far in displaying your talents or you might accomplish the opposite- inspire fear and insecurity. Make your master appear more brilliant than they are and you will attain the heights of power.

2. NEVER PUT TOO MUCH TRUST IN FRIENDS, LEARN HOW TO USE ENEMIES 

 Be wary of friends — they will betray you more quickly, for they are easily aroused to envy. They also become spoiled and tyrannical. But hire a former enemy and he will be more loyal than a friend, because he has mare to prove. In fact, you have more to fear from friends than from enemies. If you have no enemies, find a way to make them. 

3. CONCEAL YOUR INTENTIONS 

 Keep people off-balance and in the dark by never revealing the purpose behind your actions. If they have no clue what you are up to, they cannot prepare a defence. Guide them far enough down the wrong path, envelop them in enough smoke, and by the time they realise your intentions, it will be too late. 

4. ALWAYS SAY LESS THAN NECESSARY 

 When you are trying to impress people with words, the more you say, the more common you appear, and the less in control. Even if you are saying something banal, it will seem original if you make it vague, open-ended, and sphinx-like. Powerful people impress and intimidate by saying less. The more you say, the more likely you are to say something foolish. 

5. SO MUCH DEPENDS ON REPUTATION — GUARD IT WITH YOUR LIFE 

Reputation is the cornerstone of power. Through reputation alone you can intimidate and win; once it slips, however, you are vulnerable, and will be attacked on all sides. Make your reputation unassailable. Always be alert to potential attacks and thwart them before they happen. Meanwhile, learn to destroy your enemies by opening holes in their own reputations. Then stand aside and let public opinion hang them. 

6. COURT ATTENTION AT ALL COST 

 Everything is judged by its appearance; what is unseen counts for nothing. Never let yourself get lost in the crowd, then, or buried in oblivion. Stand out. Be conspicuous, at all cost. Make yourself a magnet of attention by appearing larger, more colourful, more mysterious than the bland and timid masses. 

7. GET OTHERS TO DO THE WORK FOR YOU, BUT ALWAYS TAKE THE CREDIT

 Use the wisdom , knowledge , and legwork of other people to further your own cause . Not only will such assistance save you valuable time and energy, it will give you a godlike aura of efficiency and speed. In the end your helpers will be forgotten and you will be remembered . Never do yourself what others can do for you. 

8. MAKE OTHER PEOPLE COME TO YOU— USE BAIT IF NECESSARY 

 When you force the other person to act, you are the one in control It is always better to make your opponent come to you, abandoning his own plans in the process. Lure him with fabulous gains — then attack. You hold the cards. 

9. WIN THROUGH YOUR ACTIONS, NEVER THROUGH ARGUMENT

 Any momentary triumph you think you have gained through argument is really a Pyrrhic victory: The resentment and ill will you stir up is stronger and lasts longer than any momentary change of opinion . It is much more powerful to get others to agree with you through your actions, without saying a word . Demonstrate, do not explicate. 

10. INFECTION: AVOID THE UNHAPPY AND UNLUCKY 

 You can die from someone else’s misery — emotional states are as infectious as diseases. You may feel you are helping the drowning man but you are only precipitating your own disaster. The unfortunate sometimes draw misfortune on themselves; they will also draw it on you. Associate with the happy and fortunate instead.

11. LEARN TO KEEP PEOPLE DEPENDENT ON YOU 

 To maintain your independence you must always be needed and wanted. The more you are relied on, the more freedom you have. Make people depend on you for their happiness and prosperity and you have nothing to fear. Never teach them enough 50 that they can do without you. 

12. USE SELECTIVE HONESTY AND GENEROSITY TO DISARM YOUR VICTIM 

 One sincere and honest move will cover over dozens of dishonest ones. Open-hearted gestures of honesty and generosity bring down the guard of even the most suspicious people. Once your selective honesty opens a hole in their armour, you can deceive and manipulate them at will. A timely gift — a Trojan horse — will serve the same purpose. 

13. WHEN ASKING FOR HELP, APPEAL TO PEOPLE’S SELF-INTEREST, NEVER TO THEIR MERCY OR GRATITUDE 

 If you need to turn to an ally for help, do not bother to remind him of your past assistance and good deeds. He will find a way to ignore you. Instead, uncover something in your request, or in your alliance with him, that will benefit him, and emphasise it out of all proportion. He will respond enthusiastically when he sees some- thing to be gained for himself 

14. POSE AS A FRIEND, WORK AS A SPY 

 Knowing about your rival is critical Use spies to gather valuable information that will keep you a step ahead. Better still: Play the spy yourself In polite social encounters , learn to probe . Ask indirect questions to get people to reveal their weaknesses and intentions. There is no occasion that is not an opportunity for artful spying. 

15. CRUSH YOUR ENEMY TOTALLY 

 All great leaders since Moses have known that a feared enemy must be crushed completely. ( Sometimes they have learned this the hard way.) If one ember is left alight , no matter how dimly it smoulders , afire will eventually break out. More is lost through stopping halfway than through total annihilation: The enemy will recover, and will seek revenge. Crush him , not only in body but in spirit. 

16. USE ABSENCE TO INCREASE RESPECT AND HONOUR 

 Too much circulation makes the price go down: The more you are seen and heard from , the more common you appear. If you are already established in a group , temporary withdrawal from it will make you more talked about, even more admired. You must learn when to leave. Create value through scarcity. 

17. KEEP OTHERS IN SUSPENDED TERROR: CULTIVATE AN AIR OF UNPREDICTABILITY 

 Humans are creatures of habit with an insatiable need to see familiarity in other people’s actions. Your predictability gives them a sense of control. Turn the tables: Be deliberately unpredictable. Behaviour that seems to have no consistency or purpose will keep them off-balance, and they will wear themselves out trying to explain your moves. Taken to an extreme, this strategy can intimidate and terrorise. 

18. DO NOT BUILD FORTRESSES TO PROTECT YOURSELF— ISOLATION IS DANGEROUS 

 The world is dangerous and enemies are everywhere — everyone has to protect themselves. A fortress seems the safest. But isolation exposes you to more dangers than it protects you from — it cuts you off from valuable in- formation, it makes you conspicuous and an easy target. Better to circulate among people, find allies, mingle. You are shielded from your enemies by the crowd. 

19. KNOW WHO YOU'RE DEALING WITH— DO NOT OFFEND THE WRONG PERSON 

 There are many different kinds of people in the world, and you can never assume that everyone will react to your strategies in the same way. Deceive or outmanoeuvre some people and they will spend the rest of their lives seeking revenge. They are wolves in lambs’ clothing. Choose your victims and opponents carefully, then — never offend or deceive the wrong person. 

20. DO NOT COMMIT TO ANYONE 

 It is the fool who always rushes to take sides . Do not commit to any side or cause but yourself By maintaining your independence, you become the master of others — playing people against one another, making them pursue you . 

21. PLAY A SUCKER TO CATCH A SUCKER— SEEM DUMBER THAN YOUR MARK 

 No one likes feeling stupider than the next person. The trick, then, is to make your victims feel smart — and not just smart, but smarter than you are. Once convinced of this, they will never suspect that you may have ulterior motives. 

22. USE THE SURRENDER TACTIC: TRANSFORM WEAKNESS INTO POWER 

 When you are weaker, never fight for honour's sake; choose surrender instead. Surrender gives you time to recover, time to torment and irritate your conqueror, time to wait for his power to wane. Do not give him the satisfaction of fighting and defeating you — surrender first. By turning the other cheek you infuriate and unsettle him. Make surrender a tool of power. 

23. CONCENTRATE YOUR FORCES 

 Conserve your forces and energies by keeping them concentrated at their strongest point. You gain more by finding a rich mine and mining it deeper, than by flitting from one shallow mine to another intensity defeats extensity every time. When looking for sources of power to elevate you, find the one key patron, the, fat cow who will give you milk for a long time to come. 

24. PLAY THE PERFECT COURTIER 

 The perfect courtier thrives in a world where everything revolves around power and political dexterity. He has mastered the art of indirection; he flatters, yields to superiors, and asserts power over others in the most oblique and graceful manner. Team and apply the laws of courtier ship and there will be no limit to how far you can rise in the court. 

25. RE-CREATE YOURSELF 

 Do not accept the roles that society foists on you . Re-create yourself by forging a new identity, one that commands attention and never bores the audience. Be the master of your own image rather than letting others define it for you. Incorporate dramatic devices into your public gestures and actions — your power will be enhanced and your character will seem larger than life. 

26. KEEP YOUR HANDS CLEAN 

 You must seem a paragon of civility and efficiency: Your hands are never soiled by mistakes and nasty deeds. Maintain such a spotless appearance by using others as scapegoats and cats-paws to disguise your involvement 

27. PLAY ON PEOPLE’S NEED TO BELIEVE TO CREATE A CULT-LIKE FOLLOWING 

People have an overwhelming desire to believe in something. Become the focal point of such desire by offering them a cause , a new faith to follow. Keep your words vague but full of promise; emphasise enthusiasm over rationality and clear thinking. Give your new disciples rituals to perform, ask them to make sacrifices on your behalf. In the absence of organised religion and grand causes, your new belief system will bring you untold power. 

28. ENTER ACTION WITH BOLDNESS 

If you are unsure of a course of action, do not attempt it. Your doubts and hesitations will infect your execution. Timidity is dangerous: Better to enter with boldness. Any mistakes you commit through audacity are easily corrected with more audacity. Everyone admires the bold; no one honours the timid. 

29. PLAN ALL THE WAY TO THE END 

The ending is everything. Plan all the way to it, taking into account all the possible consequences, obstacles, and twists of fortune that might reverse your hard work and give the glory to others. By planning to the end you will not be overwhelmed by circumstances and you will know when to stop. Gently guide fortune and help determine the future by thinking far ahead. 

30. MAKE YOUR ACCOMPLISHMENTS SEEM EFFORTLESS 

 Your actions must seem natural and executed with ease. All the toil and practice that go into them, and also all the clever tricks, must be concealed. When you act, act effortlessly, as if you could do much more. Avoid the temptation of revealing how hard you work — it only raises questions. Teach no one your tricks or they will be used against you.

31. CONTROL THE OPTIONS: GET OTHERS TO PLAY WITH THE CARDS YOU DEAL 

The best deceptions are the ones that seem to give the other person a choice: Your victims feel they are in control, but are actually your puppets. Give people options that come out in your favour whichever one they choose. Force them to make choices between the lesser of two evils, both of which serve your purpose. Put them on the horns of a dilemma: They are gored wherever they turn. 

32. PLAY TO PEOPLE’S FANTASIES 

 The truth is often avoided because it is ugly and unpleasant. Never appeal to truth and reality unless you are prepared for the anger that comes from disenchantment. Life is so harsh and distressing that people who can manufacture romance or conjure up fantasy are like oases in the desert: Everyone flocks to them. There is great power in tapping into the fantasies of the masses. 

33. DISCOVER EACH MAN'S THUMBSCREW 

 Everyone has a weakness , a gap in the castle wall That weakness is usually an insecurity, an uncontrollable emotion or need; it can also be a small secret pleasure. Either way, once found , it is a thumbscrew you can turn to your advantage. 

34. BE ROYAL IN YOUR OWN FASHION: ACT LIKE A KING TO BE TREATED LIKE ONE 

The way you carry yourself will often determine how you are treated: In the long run , appearing vulgar or common will make people disrespect you. For a king respects himself and inspires the same sentiment in others. By acting regally and confident of your powers, you make yourself seem destined to wear a crown. 

35. MASTER THE ART OF TIMING 

 Never seem to be in a hurry — hurrying betrays a lack of control over yourself and over time. Always seem patient, as if you know that everything will come to you eventually. Become a detective of the right moment; sniff out the spirit of the times, the trends that will carry you to power. Learn to stand back when the time is not yet ripe, and to strike fiercely when it has reached fruition. 

36. DISDAIN THINGS YOU CANNOT HAVE: IGNORING THEM IS THE BEST REVENGE 

 By acknowledging a petty problem you give it existence and credibility. The more attention you pay an enemy, the stronger you make him; and a small mistake is often made worse and more visible when you try to fix it. It is sometimes best to leave things alone. If there is something you want but cannot have, show contempt for it. The less interest you reveal, the more superior you seem. 

37. CREATE COMPELLING SPECTACLES 

 Striking imagery and grand symbolic gestures create the aura of power — everyone responds to them. Stage spectacles for those around you, then, full of arresting visuals and radiant symbols that heighten your presence. Dazzled by appearances, no one will notice what you are really doing. 

38. THINK AS YOU LIKE BUT BEHAVE LIKE OTHERS 

 If you make a show of going against the times, flaunting your unconventional ideas and unorthodox ways, people will think that you only want attention and that you look down upon them. They will find a way to punish you for making them feel inferior. It is far safer to blend in and nurture the common touch. Share your originality only with tolerant friends and those who are sure to appreciate your uniqueness. 

39. STIR UP WATERS TO CATCH FISH 

 Anger and emotion are strategically counterproductive. You must always stay calm and objective. But if you can make your enemies angry while staying calm yourself you gain a decided advantage. Put your enemies off-balance: Find the chink in their vanity through which you can rattle them and you hold the strings. 

40. DESPISE THE FREE LUNCH 

 What is offered for free is dangerous — it usually involves either a trick or a hidden obligation . What has worth is worth paying for By paying your own way you stay clear of gratitude , guilt, and deceit . It is also often wise to pay the full price — there is no cutting comers with excellence. Be lavish with your money and keep it circulating, for generosity is a sign and a magnet for power. 

41. AVOID STEPPING INTO A GREAT MAN’S SHOES 

 What happens first always appears better and more original than what comes after. If you succeed a great man or have a famous parent, you will have to accomplish double their achievements to outshine them. Do not get lost in their shadow, or stuck in a past not of your own making: Establish your own name and identity by changing course. Slay the overbearing father, disparage his legary, and gain power by shining in your own way. 

42. STRIKE THE SHEPHERD AND THE SHEEP WILL SCATTER 

 Trouble can often be traced to a single strong individual — the stirrer, the arrogant underling, the poisoner of goodwill. If you allow such people room to operate, others will succumb to their influence. Do not wait for the troubles they cause to multiply, do not try to negotiate with them — they are irredeemable. Neutralise their influence by isolating or banishing them. Strike at the source of the trouble and the sheep will scatter. 

43. WORK ON THE HEARTS AND MINDS OF OTHERS 

 Coercion creates a reaction that will eventually work against you. You must seduce others into wanting to move in your direction. A person you have seduced becomes your loyal pawn. And the way to seduce others is to operate on their individual psychologies and weaknesses. Soften up the resistant by working on their emotions , playing on what they hold dear and what they fear. Ignore the hearts and minds of others and they will grow to hate you.

44. DISARM AND INFURIATE WITH THE MIRROR EFFECT 

 The mirror reflects reality, but it is also the perfect tool for deception: When you mirror your enemies, doing exactly as they do, they cannot figure out your strategy. The Mirror Effect mocks and humiliates them, making them overreact. By holding up a mirror to their psyches, you seduce them with the illusion that you share their values; by holding up a mirror to their actions, you teach them a lesson. Few can resist the power of the Mirror Effect. 

45. PREACH THE NEED FOR CHANGE, BUT NEVER REFORM TOO MUCH AT ONCE 

 Everyone understands the need for change in the abstract, but on the day-to-day level people are creatures of habit. Too much innovation is traumatic, and will lead to revolt. If you are new to a position of power, or an outsider trying to build a power base, make a show of respecting the old way of doing things. If change is necessary, make it feel like a gentle improvement on the past. 

46. NEVER APPEAR TOO PERFECT 

 Appearing better than others is always dangerous , but most dangerous of all is to appear to have no faults or weaknesses . Envy creates silent enemies. It is smart to occasionally display defects , and admit to harmless vices , in order to deflect envy and appear more human and approachable . Only gods and the dead can seem perfect with impunity.  

47. DO NOT GO PAST THE MARK YOU AIMED FOR; IN VICTORY, LEARN WHEN TO STOP 

 The moment of victory is often the moment of greatest peril. In the heat of victory i, arrogance and overconfidence can push you past the goal you had aimed for, and by going too far, you make more enemies than you defeat. Do not allow success to go to your head. There is no substitute for strategy and careful planning. Set a goal, and when you reach it, stop. 

48. ASSUME FORMLESSNESS 

 By taking a shape, by having a visible plan, you open yourself to attack. Instead of taking a form for your enemy to grasp, keep yourself adaptable and on the move. Accept the fact that nothing is certain and no law is fixed. The best way to protect yourself is to be as fluid and formless as water; never bet on stability or lasting order. Everything changes.

This is taken from The 48 Laws of Power, by Robert Greene

[thewastedyouth390-blog]

6/19/2119    “Tell me that one story again! Please! please! please!” Jonathan begged again. “No! It's time to go to bed,” I pleaded. “You’ve been up for hours drawing and non-stop-” “just one more for me and friends, please?” He knew I couldn’t say no to those puppy eyes, and he was right “fine! Fine just get in bed, all of you hurry up” I exclaimed he and his friends just bolted, hell I’ve never seen kids run that quick, to a Bed?! To say the least. “So, which one do you want to hear about tonight?” I asked exhaustively and of course the same old answer. “1A Sam!” they all shouted. “Screw that! I told you that one the other night!”. “But but my friends didn’t hear it,” he said with that same damn face. I sigh “I can’t get a break can I?” “of course not,” Jonathan said with a smug smirk. “Alright alright, shut up snotty.” I open up the old torn up journal from our great grandfather his name was, you guessed it, 1A) Sam. he was part of this giant war that waged about 101 years ago on “Earth 1-E” or that's what he calls it at least. Anywho he and our great-grandmother met in the Head Quarters or HQ of where these godlike soldiers or incredible warriors would swarm filling it wall to wall, everyone got along because whenever people were feeling down they’d meet Sam and he’d always find a way to cheer someone up. They called him the “Valkyrie” because he'd always show up when fights were the worse and had the wings of an angel. My name is Jonas, I am 19 years old, and I’m found this terminal out in the wasteland where the first HQ was meant to be built. I hope these documents meet able eyes and can continue to tell the stories of the Wasted youth. Then it hit me, that god damn frying pan he manages to have on him every time I tick him off, I stole it from him this time but who knows how long until he gets it again. “HEY DO YOU JERKS WANT TO HEAR THE STORY OR NOT!” complete silence ensued. “Alright, so you kiddos want to hear about the swift and craftily destructive Valkyrie!” the kids cheered for what sounded like a full minute. With the quick hand motion for silence, they all listened and I continued. “Now just like a Valkyrie he had huge wings, they were so large that if he wanted to block out the sun, it would only take him a mere seconds, but his wings weren’t the only thing that made him fast, he’d use the mandatory jump-kit to accompany his wings to create maneuvers only angels could pull”. “Your lying! a human couldn’t have wings! They’d look like a chicken!” one of the kids shouted interrupting the story. I personally didn’t know my stories had the effect to make kids throw another kid out of our tent. Man, it's like in the village shamen raising a shit load of Vikings. “Now now, the one who shall not be named had a point, we’d look grotesque if humans had wings! But Sam wasn’t your common man born with wings, after years and years of combat, Sam killed multiple winged creatures, with each fight taking the loot off of them, resulting in the mixture of dozens of winged creature DNA to make the proper fitting wings to allow human flight”,“Sam was also known for pulling off the best maneuvers with his jump-kit, between a jump-kit,shield and sword, Sam would sprint to the jump-kit then just the shield.” “Another quality that Sam had was what's known as pure selflessness”.   “What monster did he have to kill to get that” Benjamin asked? “Well Benjamin, "he already had that before the wasted youth was even created. It's what made him one of the best because he knew his life was worth as much as the person standing right next to him.” “Wow! That's so … boring what about his cannon of death?!?”. William sighs, “his Gravitational Beam Emitter you mean?”   “the GBE Sam had was nothing short of dangerous, I repeat jerks it wasn’t a toy for the fate of heart, if you could just ask him where most of the monsters from the in-between went he’d simply just unholster and lift up his gun and shrug, the gun was made out of the Gravitational emitter but the frame and barrel was made by other components for a different, and much more handleable approach, it would blast a 5 foot by 5 foot hole made red-hot laser through anything not made from the metal as the Gravitational emitter itself” “ that’s so badass” Robert exclaims in shock. “That's not even the coolest part” Jonathan whispers. “His other weapon of choice was his trusty long sword with that was taken from the very planet under us right now, it's said that anything from Earth 1-E holds untitled power in different universes, because this is the vortexes on where everything is created, speaking of vortexes, it had a magnetic shield that could stop anything shot at him, and if he really needed to, he’d throw it right back” the kids all had a twinkle in their eyes “buts that's just rumors I wouldn’t hold your breaths” they all dropped their heads in disappointment. “Wait a sec!” William shouted, “didn’t Sam have magical powers like an angel too!?”   “You are very correct he indeed did have powers, for his left arm was covered in multiple spell ruins from a universe where magic truly did exist! He had a total of eight spells. Darkness that could blind even creatures that could see in the dark, firebolt could have been cast at will , fire blast was a moveable flamethrower, fire and ice wall locked bad guys down and could make a smoke screen to help him get away, great one's luck would help him live through most of the dire stupid choice he made ,haste was used a lot when he’d fly for a nearly deadly speed, and charm person would help him gain the number of allies he had in them … um war” the room filled with an utter silence as I brought it up, the war had not only destroyed all known headquarters for the Wasted Youth but left the planet in the condition it is in now … lots of these children are orphans from the harsh conditions outside and the other monsters the Wasted youth couldn’t quite get, I kept care of the kids when the parents were busy salvaging what they could, there were 5 of them with me being the natural oldest. Jonathan my little brother he's 8, Benjamin is his closest friend, he's 11, Williams and Chuck or Chuckles are brothers, William is 9 and Chuck is only 7 yet does nothing but reads and tends to be the brightest, yet he's very snobby. My dad leaves us all together with my job to babysit them, I’ve been doing this ever since I was 15 and I just got used to it, the place he left us was an old HQ that must have been the first functional one … My dad must have known it was safe, it must be a  father to father thing I guess. “Now I bet you're wondering, Jonas, what makes him so special?” “well, there's nothing truly special about him compared to the other wasted youth members” “nothing but that sheer fact that he's … missing in action, no one is truly sure what happened to him after the great war, some say that out killing off what he couldn’t in the war, some say he's in space looking for a new tare to hunt some more, But I believe he’s still here On earth looking for other members of the wasted youth and even the mysterious AI H.e.n.r.y (happily elevated network routing yottabytes)”. The jerks looked at each other in awe and back at me before Williams raised his hand up high. “Yes? William?” “can I go get my brother so he can hear this story one more time?” “FUCK NO GO TO BED!” crack goes the frying pan against my skull. I think when I wake back up after this I’ll go get a safe to hide that damn pan.

00/00/2019

But that's not truly how it started, 1A) Sam Had a real name, it was Samuel, he was a normal college student before his life and the life of some of his close friends would change forever. He got the call late one night as he was doing something on his computer for a story he was writing. That's when H.E.N.R.Y. showed up right on his screen. At first, he felt as if he just gotten hacked by someone but it seemed to get more apparent as the conversation went on between the two this wasn’t joke

“So your an Artificial intelligence?”

“Correct.” “Sent from the future?”

“Correct.”

“You want me to fight monsters from what again?”

“Forms of literacy, stories, movies video games, comic books, ani-”

He chuckles “alright I got it I got it, you know you're asking a lot right?”

“Well statistically not really, if you don’t join your entire universe will eventually collapse and combine with the others one leading to absolute destruction.” “Really how long until that would happen?”

“5 years 14 mins and 52 seconds 51 seconds 50 seconds”

“Okay okay stop counting um … what makes you think I would say yes to all this Bullshit?”

“I know its out of place, I was told to ask everyone to weigh the option themselves? I could do it for you easily and happily but I also can’t force you to join either but stati-”

“Wait wait You want me to pick between everything dying over my future?”

“... Correct”

He sighs “What do I do to sign up or enter?”

[ayellowbirds]

Keshet Rewatches All of Scooby-Doo, Pt. 8: "Foul Play in Funland"

("Scooby-Doo, Where Are You", Season 1 Episode 8)

AKA "An Actual Zoinking Robot, For Real"

As the episode opens, the gang are on a beach near dark, finishing up digging for clams, since it’s 1969 and there’s nearly nothing for young people to entertain themselves with. Although he happily helps with the digging, Scooby astonishingly is revealed to hate clams.

My mind is blown. There’s a food that Scoobert “Scooby” Doo dislikes? The moment passes without any commentary on how mind-blowingly bizarre it as Shaggy looks out towards the nearby Funland amusement park, wishing that it was open... so he could eat park food, with actually going on the rides a distant third.

Daphne’s not interested in going now, though, and in a rare bit of her showing any outright fear, she thinks the place looks “spooky, even haunted!” with its lights out. Even as Velma tut-tuts her, the lights come on at the park! It’s a simple visual of colored dots on black shapes over a blue background, but something about it always stood out as charming to me. Even the gang’s shock that “that place won’t be open for weeks!” doesn’t ruin the image, the romance of the old-fashioned boardwalk amusement park.

As the gang watch from the distance, the rollercoaster comes to life, and a close-up view reveals a rider in the first car. What sort of spooky figure is about to menace the gang at an evocative locale like an amusement park on the beach? Is it a scary clown? A pirate ghost, or a mutant fisherman to draw on the marine locale?

No, it’s a robot. A sophisticated android is enjoying VIP privileges on the rides, eyes blinking amber light with all the excitement his expressionless face cannot convey. The gang can’t see him in the distance, however, and Shaggy and Scooby distract themselves by playing at ordering food... which actually arrives via an unseen hand! When Freddie actually manages to win the notorious stacked bottles game, someone invisibly restores the glass bottles he’d knocked over, and a prize appears while his back is turned!

If that’s the prize for knocking down all the bottles, what cheap garbage do you get if you only knock down one? As Freddie tosses payment for playing the game down on the counter, Daphne observes that this is a Kewpie doll... and the register automatically rings up the two bits Fred paid! 

Meanwhile, Shaggy and Scooby are enjoying their mystery meals, when Shaggy notices someone running by.

Was it hard to get this screencap because of the speed at which the robot was moving? Jinkies no, because the robot is only moving as fast as Shaggy usually runs. The cast consistently react as if he was moving inhumanly fast, coupled with his “invisible” actions supposedly done at lightning speed, but the animation never bothers to make him move along any faster than any ordinary human character, and none of the scenes of things mysteriously happening are rendered in a way that would suggest the same machine is responsible. Were other thins in the park meant to be automated, or were the artists just unable to think of a way to convincingly show superhuman speed?

In any case, Scooby thinks it must be Superman, but this is a man of steel inside and out. The duo try to track him, but...

Horror-stricken, Shaggy concludes he must be a ghost, but Scooby catches sight of the tin terror entering the Hall of Mirrors... at an even slower walk. Not a ghost, Shaggy concludes, “he looks more like a man from Mars,” and follows him inside. After a few of the requisite visual gags of distorted reflections, Shaggy realizes he’s not alone in the mirror.

HE SAID THE THING!

Scooby and Shaggy flee, and the next time we see the robot, he’s climbing onto the Ferris Wheel in view of Fred, Daphne, and Velma. The ride stops with his carriage at the very peak of the wheel, and Fred operates a hand-cranked manual override to bring him down... but the car is empty, and the lights start going down around the park.

So... the only conclusion one can make there is that the robot rode the Ferris Wheel to the top, and jumped out before going to shut everything down. It seems absurd at first, but, to be entirely honest, if I had superhuman durability? I’d totally do the same thing, just because I could. 

The gang regroup and discuss their strange visitor, and then notice another building in the distance.

Now, that is a hell of a house. Maybe it’s just my under-15K-per-year lifestyle, but i live near some pretty affluent suburbs and a place like that would qualify its owner as solidly wealthy. The gang suppose it must belong to the park caretaker, meaning either they have no concept of the earning levels of amusement park employees, or this is a magical universe where that’s the kind of job that nets you a seven figure income.

Mr. Jenkins and his sister Sarah, an elderly pair who cast doubt on everything the gang says they saw. Maybe the moonlight was playing tricks on their eyes, there’s no-one else on this island, the—wait, island?

An amusement park not only by the beach but on an island, and the villain they went with for this episode is a robot? Thematic consistency is not the strong suit of this series. In any case, the gang decide they won’t be dissuaded, except for Shaggy, who just wants to go home.

Daphne.

Daphne Blake. You have known Shaggy since you were children, why would you ever assume anything but that Shaggy would rather eat pizza?

The gang return to the park and find that the machines are all running again, but wrong. For some reason, this includes the hot dog stand, which is now pitching out an arc of ready-to-eat dogs, buns and all. The antics include the robot, who puts on a show of juggling plates, tossing out dozens of game prizes, and... going into the Tunnel of Love.

He’s just trying to have a good time, y’all!

More carnival antics ensue, including Scooby demonstrating that his tail is strong enough to ring the bell on the strength test game.

Mind you, this also involves demonstrating that his tail is prehensile.

Scooby is a talking dog with retractable claws and an inhumanly strong prehensile tail. Again, i ask: WHAT ARE YOU, SCOOBY-DOO?

The later reveal in Mystery Inc that Scooby is a descendant of godlike aliens starts to make more and more sense.

Amidst all the antics of chasing him and being chased, it’s strange that the gang never identify the obvious robot as a robot. He’s a “torpedo man”, or “that character”, or “the traffic cop”.

Oh, yeah, about that last one.

This episode shows off something weird about how Velma is written when she loses her glasses. It’s not just that she can’t see, she seems to enter some kind of delusional state where she concludes things about the world around her that would make no sense at all if she remembered what was happening to her before her glasses were lost. It goes beyond “Mister Magoo” antics: the instant her glasses are off, Velma assumes she’s out driving her bumper (or “dodgem” as she calls it) car on a regular street, which she had no earthly reason to conclude.

Eventually, the gang encounter Mr. Jenkins again, and he confesses the truth: the being the gang have been chasing around is a robot. An actual robot. Not a person dressed up as one, which the gang never seemed to even guess at, instead thinking he was just a weird, super-fast and invulnerable human being.

Jenkins tells the gang he intended to run the whole park with his robot creations, proving he either has no sense of the value of his creation, or is just really dedicated to following his bliss. 

After a brief attempt at getting the gang to help capture Charlie is thrown off, it’s revealed that the culprit behind the robot going haywire is none other than Sarah Jenkins. Why?

Oh, so it’s a concern about safety and the reliability of untested artificial int—nope, as the gang agree with her, it becomes apparent that this is just anti-robot bigotry and they agree with Sarah that children need to have human contact and would not prefer fully functional automata over creepy carnies.

“I never thought about that,” says Mr. Jenkins. “I just wanted a perfect robot.”

But, whatever! Jenkins rebuilds his creation as “Charlie the Second”, and this episode ends on a bizarre, uncharacteristic note:

the gang met an actual, super-powered, intelligent nonhuman entity and no doubt was ever cast upon it as being genuine

the real culprit behind the mayhem, Sarah, receives no punishment and it’s even agreed that she was in the right

in spite of all this, Charlie is rebuilt, with no indication that he will be replaced by humans after all

Oh, and now he can smile. Or at least, his face is made to appear to smile.

So, Mr. Jenkins, the elderly amusement park caretaker, built a sophisticated android with both superhuman strength and speed, and the delicate sensitivity needed to provide a pet with pleasant stimuli.

What is the backstory, here?

Why is the best roboticist in the world working at an amusement park?

And why isn’t there any actual resolution to Sarah’s sabotage?

(like what i’m doing here? It’s not what pays the bills, so i’d really appreciate it if you could send me a bit at my paypal.me or via my ko-fi. Click here to see more entries in this series of posts, or here to go in chronological order) 

[xtruss]

Argentine Soccer Hero Lived a Life of Extremes!

AT THE PINNACLEDiego Armando Maradona holds the World Cup trophy in triumph in 1986 after Argentina defeated West Germany, 3-2, to claim the championship. (Carlo Fumagalli Associated Press)

— By Hector Tobar | L.A. Times | November 26, 2020

A mop-haired boy from a Buenos Aires slum, Diego Armando Maradona dribbled and dazzled his way to world fame, becoming one of the greatest soccer players of all time and achieving a godlike status in his homeland when he led Argentina to victory in the 1986 World Cup.

But he also was one of the most self-destructive, a volatile man of prodigious appetites whose excesses landed him in the hospital again and again.

Never far from the spotlight he chased with such fury, Maradona died Wednesday of a heart attack, the Associated Press confirmed. He was 60.

Maradona had been plagued by health issues in recent years and was recently released from a Buenos Aires hospital after suffering a subdural hematoma, which required brain surgery.

As the news of Maradona’s death circulated around the world Wednesday, Argentine President Alberto Fernandez called for three days of national mourning, while UEFA, soccer’s governing body in Europe, announced there would be a minute of silence before its Champions League and Europa League games this week.

Soccer stars past and present took to social media to say goodbye.

Pele, the Brazilian legend and perhaps the greatest player of all time, wrote on Twitter that he “lost a great friend and the world lost a legend.... One day, I hope we can play ball together in the sky.”

Cristiano Ronaldo, the five-time world player of the year from Portugal who currently stars for Italy’s Juventus, tweeted, “Today I say goodbye to a friend and the world says goodbye to an eternal genius.”

Like that other famous Argentine export, the tango, Maradona brought flair, passion and an undeniable sense of darkness to his sport and his life. On the field, few could match his artistry, skill and creativity.

During a professional career that began on a Buenos Aires field when he was 15, Maradona scored hundreds of goals, many of them the stuff of legend, including two in a single match against England in the 1986 World Cup. The first is considered by many the most notorious goal in the history of the sport, and the second is among the most celebrated.

He went on to lead Argentina’s national team to the World Cup title that year, marking the summit of his career. But drug abuse and other acts of self-destruction tainted his final years as a player, and he retired in 1997 just a whisper of his former self.

Maradona played 91 games for the Argentine national team and was a star for teams in Italy and Spain. He played his last World Cup game in Foxboro, Mass., in 1994, escorted off the field for a drug test he would fail.

One of eight children of a laborer who had migrated to the city from rural Corrientes province, Maradona was born Oct. 30, 1960, in a villa miseria, or slum, in the suburban Buenos Aires community of Villa Fiorito. The family lived in abject poverty.

In his autobiography, “I Am El Diego,” he recalled walking to school kicking a ball along streets, up stairs and along railroad tracks. He spent hours playing pickup games in a nearby horse pasture.

When he was 9, a friend invited him to a tryout at Argentinos Juniors, an adult professional soccer team. He impressed enough to earn a spot on the Cebollitas, or Little Onions, a feeder club for the team. The Little Onions would go on to win 136 games without defeat, with young Diego often scoring three or more goals a game.

By the time he was 12, he was working at professional games as a ball boy, becoming a favorite of the crowds for his halftime juggling skills. A television variety show invited him to show off his talents and in soccer-mad Argentina, he became a minor celebrity.

Just a few days before his 16th birthday, the coach of Argentinos Juniors brought him onto the first team. He first stepped onto the field as a substitute, with the coach telling him, “Go, Diego, and play like you know how to play. And if you can, dribble through someone’s legs.” Minutes later, the young Maradona did just that.

“That day,” he said later in his autobiography, “I felt like I touched heaven with my hands.”

Leading Argentine teams began a bidding war for Maradona’s services. He moved his family out of Villa Fiorito to an apartment. Eventually, he joined the famed Boca Juniors team.

He was first named to Argentina’s national team in 1977, when he was 16. But coach Cesar Luis Menotti did not name him to the squad that won the 1978 World Cup, which Argentina hosted. Maradona was crushed.

“I knew he was a great player, who was going to have the chance to play in many more World Cups,” Menotti would say years afterward.

In 1982, after leading Boca Juniors to a league championship, Maradona signed with the Spanish club Barcelona. It was there, friends say, that he got his first taste of cocaine.

“I was, I am now, and I have always been, a drug addict,” he would acknowledge years later.

But on the field, his powers seemed only to grow. After fighting repeatedly with Barcelona management, he moved to the Italian club Napoli, scoring a series of remarkable goals that quickly endeared him to the notoriously fickle Italian fans.

In the 1986 World Cup, played in Mexico, the full range of his skills was on display. During the tournament he scored five goals in leading Argentina to its second World Cup victory, but he will always be remembered for the two he scored in a quarterfinal match against England. Passions were high for the game, played just four years after Britain defeated Argentina in the Falklands War.

With the game scoreless, Maradona challenged English goalkeeper Peter Shilton for a high pass. Maradona punched the ball with his fist into the goal, a blatant violation of the rules seen by nearly everyone but the referee. Asked afterward if he had used his hand, Maradona said the goal had been scored “By the Hand of God.”

Five minutes later, Maradona scored another, the decisive goal in what would be a 2-1 victory over England. Taking the ball in his own half of the field, he dribbled and weaved past most of the English team, then tumbled to the ground as he fired a shot that beat Shilton. In a poll conducted two decades later by soccer’s international governing body, FIFA, it was selected the greatest goal in the history of the World Cup.

“Today he scored one of the most brilliant goals you will ever see,” English coach Bobby Robson said after the game. “The first goal was dubious. The second goal was a miracle.”

“It was as if we had beaten a country, more than just a soccer team,” Maradona would recall in his autobiography.

When Argentina defeated West Germany, 3-2, in the championship game a week later, he stormed off the field and into the locker room shouting obscenities; for Maradona, victory was always tinged with the lingering anger he felt for his rivals and detractors.

Still at the peak of his powers, he inspired Napoli to its first Italian league titles in 1987 and 1990. He married childhood sweetheart Claudia Villafañe in 1989, but would admit later to being unfaithful to her. In 1991 he was again suspended for 15 months after testing positive for cocaine.

Noticeably overweight, he went on a crash diet before the 1994 World Cup, hosted by the United States. But after scoring two goals in three games, he failed a drug test for ephedrine, a performance-enhancing drug. He was kicked out of the World Cup and banned from the sport for 15 months.

“My soul is broken,” Maradona said. But he blamed FIFA officials more than himself. “They cut my legs out from me just as I was trying to come back.”

Maradona eventually returned to play for his old Argentine club team, Boca Juniors, from which he retired in 1997.

Away from the field, Maradona seemed a sad, rotund figure. He traveled to Cuba to seek treatment for drug abuse in 2002 and eventually struck up a friendship with Fidel Castro. When he returned to Argentina, he sported a prominent tattoo of the Argentine revolutionary Ernesto “Che” Guevara, one of Castro’s top lieutenants during the Cuban revolution, on one arm.

Shortly after his 2004 divorce, Maradona began another downward spiral and was hospitalized after a drug overdose and then again for alcohol poisoning. His family had him hospitalized in a psychiatric facility after he threatened to leave the intensive care unit where he had been receiving treatment. He was released but returned a few days later after a bout of overeating.

His death seemed so imminent that daily newspapers in Buenos Aires prepared special sections to run with his obituary.

But after a few weeks he was released and went on to host a popular variety show on Argentine television, “Night With No. 10.” And throughout his career, he never seemed to forget where he came from, lending his name and profile to dozens of charitable endeavors that raised millions, mostly for children’s causes.

He coached briefly, and erratically, for two teams in the Argentine league and then, in a move that stunned and delighted the nation, in 2008 was handed the reins of the country’s national team, which was struggling to right itself before the World Cup. The team advanced to the quarterfinals, hoping that new superstar Lionel Messi’s sublime soccer skills would overcome the confounding coaching decisions made by Maradona. He was dismissed in 2010.

In 2018, Maradona — whose gait had now turned to a shuffle and once-crisp voice to a mumble — was hired to coach the Dorados, a professional team based in the Mexican state of Sinaloa, in the heart of drug country. The only person more famous than Maradona in Sinaloa was Joaquin “El Chapo” Guzman, the legendary drug kingpin.

“Taking Maradona to Sinaloa is like taking a kid to Disneyland,” sportswriter Rafael Martinez wrote on Twitter.

But Maradona, silencing critics again, made it work. Hobbled by knee injuries and using a cane as he shuffled about, he managed to take a young team buried deep in Mexico’s second division to the playoff final, where it lost by a goal in overtime.

“He is very happy, very satisfied with his work,” Fox Deportes analyst Daniel Brailovsky, a former teammate, said. “It’s his passion, it’s his life. It’s everything for him.

“Maradona can’t live without football, and football can’t live without Maradona.”

Six months later, Maradona left Mexico, quickly resurfacing in Argentina as manager for the Gimnasia de la Plata club.

His story was told in the 2019 HBO documentary “Diego Maradona,” with filmmaker Asif Kapadia combing through 500 hours of never-before-seen footage. The result portrays Maradona as he was: a man both tortured and talented, a superhero, antihero and villain, brilliantly gifted on the field and maddeningly flawed away from it.

“Maradona is the synthesis of Argentina,” suggested Guillermo Oliveta, president of the Argentina Marketing Assn. “He came from dire poverty and went up so quickly in social status. And then he crashed, just like the country.”

Tobar is a former Times staff writer. Times staff writers Kevin Baxter and Steve Marble contributed to this report.

[imb3cile-vagabond-blog]

The laws of power.

Never Outshine the Master

Always make those above you feel comfortably superior. In your desire to please or impress them, do not go too far in displaying your talents or you might accomplish the opposite – inspire fear and insecurity. Make your masters appear more brilliant than they are and you will attain the heights of power. 

Never put too Much Trust in Friends, Learn how to use Enemies

Be wary of friends-they will betray you more quickly, for they are easily aroused to envy. They also become spoiled and tyrannical. But hire a former enemy and he will be more loyal than a friend, because he has more to prove. In fact, you have more to fear from friends than from enemies. If you have no enemies, find a way to make them. 

Conceal your intentions

Keep people off-balance and in the dark by never revealing the purpose behind your actions. If they have no clue what you are up to, they cannot prepare a defense. Guide them far enough down the wrong path, envelope them in enough smoke, and by the time they realize your intentions, it will be too late. 

Always Say Less than Necessary

When you are trying to impress people with words, the more you say, the more common you appear, and the less in control. Even if you are saying something banal, it will seem original if you make it vague, open-ended, and sphinxlike. Powerful people impress and intimidate by saying less. The more you say, the more likely you are to say something foolish. 

So Much Depends on Reputation – Guard it with your Life 

Reputation is the cornerstone of power. Through reputation alone you can intimidate and win; once you slip, however, you are vulnerable, and will be attacked on all sides. Make your reputation unassailable. Always be alert to potential attacks and thwart them before they happen. Meanwhile, learn to destroy your enemies by opening holes in their own reputations. Then stand aside and let public opinion hang them. 

Court Attention at all Cost

Everything is judged by its appearance; what is unseen counts for nothing. Never let yourself get lost in the crowd, then, or buried in oblivion. Stand out. Be conspicuous, at all cost. Make yourself a magnet of attention by appearing larger, more colorful, more mysterious, than the bland and timid masses. 

Get others to do the Work for you, but Always Take the Credit 

Use the wisdom, knowledge, and legwork of other people to further your own cause. Not only will such assistance save you valuable time and energy, it will give you a godlike aura of efficiency and speed. In the end your helpers will be forgotten and you will be remembered. Never do yourself what others can do for you.

Make other People come to you – use Bait if Necessary

When you force the other person to act, you are the one in control. It is always better to make your opponent come to you, abandoning his own plans in the process. Lure him with fabulous gains – then attack. You hold the cards. 

Win through your Actions, Never through Argument 

Any momentary triumph you think gained through argument is really a Pyrrhic victory: The resentment and ill will you stir up is stronger and lasts longer than any momentary change of opinion. It is much more powerful to get others to agree with you through your actions, without saying a word. Demonstrate, do not explicate. 

Infection: Avoid the Unhappy and Unlucky 

You can die from someone else’s misery – emotional states are as infectious as disease. You may feel you are helping the drowning man but you are only precipitating your own disaster. The unfortunate sometimes draw misfortune on themselves; they will also draw it on you. Associate with the happy and fortunate instead. 

Learn to Keep People Dependent on You 

To maintain your independence you must always be needed and wanted. The more you are relied on, the more freedom you have. Make people depend on you for their happiness and prosperity and you have nothing to fear. Never teach them enough so that they can do without you. 

Use Selective Honesty and Generosity to Disarm your Victim 

One sincere and honest move will cover over dozens of dishonest ones. Open-hearted gestures of honesty and generosity bring down the guard of even the most suspicious people. Once your selective honesty opens a hole in their armor, you can deceive and manipulate them at will. A timely gift – a Trojan horse – will serve the same purpose. 

When Asking for Help, Appeal to People’s Self-Interest, Never to their Mercy or Gratitude 

If you need to turn to an ally for help, do not bother to remind him of your past assistance and good deeds. He will find a way to ignore you. Instead, uncover something in your request, or in your alliance with him, that will benefit him, and emphasize it out of all proportion. He will respond enthusiastically when he sees something to be gained for himself. 

Pose as a Friend, Work as a Spy 

Knowing about your rival is critical. Use spies to gather valuable information that will keep you a step ahead. Better still: Play the spy yourself. In polite social encounters, learn to probe. Ask indirect questions to get people to reveal their weaknesses and intentions. There is no occasion that is not an opportunity for artful spying.

Crush your Enemy Totally 

All great leaders since Moses have known that a feared enemy must be crushed completely. (Sometimes they have learned this the hard way.) If one ember is left alight, no matter how dimly it smolders, a fire will eventually break out. More is lost through stopping halfway than through total annihilation: The enemy will recover, and will seek revenge. Crush him, not only in body but in spirit. 

Use Absence to Increase Respect and Honor 

Too much circulation makes the price go down: The more you are seen and heard from, the more common you appear. If you are already established in a group, temporary withdrawal from it will make you more talked about, even more admired. You must learn when to leave. Create value through scarcity. 

Keep Others in Suspended Terror: Cultivate an Air of Unpredictability 

Humans are creatures of habit with an insatiable need to see familiarity in other people’s actions. Your predictability gives them a sense of control. Turn the tables: Be deliberately unpredictable. Behavior that seems to have no consistency or purpose will keep them offbalance, and they will wear themselves out trying to explain your moves. Taken to an extreme, this strategy can intimidate and terrorize.

Do Not Build Fortresses to Protect Yourself – Isolation is Dangerous 

The world is dangerous and enemies are everywhere – everyone has to protect themselves. A fortress seems the safest. But isolation exposes you to more dangers than it protects you from – it cuts you off from valuable information, it makes you conspicuous and an easy target. Better to circulate among people find allies, mingle. You are shielded from your enemies by the crowd. 

Know Who You’re Dealing with – Do Not Offend the Wrong Person 

There are many different kinds of people in the world, and you can never assume that everyone will react to your strategies in the same way. Deceive or outmaneuver some people and they will spend the rest of their lives seeking revenge. They are wolves in lambs’ clothing. Choose your victims and opponents carefully, then – never offend or deceive the wrong person. 

[mikefuckingbutera-blog]

48 Laws Of Power

Law 1 - Never Outshine The Master

Always make those above you feel comfortably superior. In your desire to please or impress them, do not go too far in displaying your talents or you might accomplish the opposite – inspire fear and insecurity. Make your masters appear more brilliant than they are and you will attain the heights of power.

Law 2 - Never Put Too Much Trust In Friends, Learn How To Use Enemies

Be wary of friends-they will betray you more quickly, for they are easily aroused to envy. They also become spoiled and tyrannical. But hire a former enemy and he will be more loyal than a friend, because he has more to prove. In fact, you have more to fear from friends than from enemies. If you have no enemies, find a way to make them.

Law 3 - Conceal Your Intentions

Keep people off-balance and in the dark by never revealing the purpose behind your actions. If they have no clue what you are up to, they cannot prepare a defense. Guide them far enough down the wrong path, envelope them in enough smoke, and by the time they realize your intentions, it will be too late.

Law 4 - Always Say Less Than Necessary

When you are trying to impress people with words, the more you say, the more common you appear, and the less in control. Even if you are saying something banal, it will seem original if you make it vague, open-ended, and sphinxlike. Powerful people impress and intimidate by saying less. The more you say, the more likely you are to say something foolish.

Law 5 - So Much Depends On Reputation – Guard It With Your Life

Reputation is the cornerstone of power. Through reputation alone you can intimidate and win; once you slip, however, you are vulnerable, and will be attacked on all sides. Make your reputation unassailable. Always be alert to potential attacks and thwart them before they happen. Meanwhile, learn to destroy your enemies by opening holes in their own reputations. Then stand aside and let public opinion hang them.

Law 6 - Court Attention At All Cost

Everything is judged by its appearance; what is unseen counts for nothing. Never let yourself get lost in the crowd, then, or buried in oblivion. Stand out. Be conspicuous, at all cost. Make yourself a magnet of attention by appearing larger, more colorful, more mysterious, than the bland and timid masses.

Law 7 - Get Others To Do The Work For You, But Always Take the Credit

Use the wisdom, knowledge, and legwork of other people to further your own cause. Not only will such assistance save you valuable time and energy, it will give you a godlike aura of efficiency and speed. In the end your helpers will be forgotten and you will be remembered. Never do yourself what others can do for you.

Law 8 - Make Other People Come To You – Use Bait If Necessary

When you force the other person to act, you are the one in control. It is always better to make your opponent come to you, abandoning his own plans in the process. Lure him with fabulous gains – then attack. You hold the cards.

Law 9 - Win Through Your Actions, Never Through Argument

Any momentary triumph you think gained through argument is really a Pyrrhic victory: The resentment and ill will you stir up is stronger and lasts longer than any momentary change of opinion. It is much more powerful to get others to agree with you through your actions, without saying a word. Demonstrate, do not explicate.

Law 10 - Infection: Avoid The Unhappy And Unlucky

You can die from someone else’s misery – emotional states are as infectious as disease. You may feel you are helping the drowning man but you are only precipitating your own disaster. The unfortunate sometimes draw misfortune on themselves; they will also draw it on you. Associate with the happy and fortunate instead.

Law 11 - Learn To Keep People Dependent On You

To maintain your independence you must always be needed and wanted. The more you are relied on, the more freedom you have. Make people depend on you for their happiness and prosperity and you have nothing to fear. Never teach them enough so that they can do without you.

Law 12 - Use Selective Honesty And Generosity To Disarm Your Victim

One sincere and honest move will cover over dozens of dishonest ones. Open-hearted gestures of honesty and generosity bring down the guard of even the most suspicious people. Once your selective honesty opens a hole in their armor, you can deceive and manipulate them at will. A timely gift – a Trojan horse – will serve the same purpose.

Law 13 - When Asking For Help, Appeal To People’s Self-Interest, Never To Their Mercy Or Gratitude

If you need to turn to an ally for help, do not bother to remind him of your past assistance and good deeds. He will find a way to ignore you. Instead, uncover something in your request, or in your alliance with him, that will benefit him, and emphasize it out of all proportion. He will respond enthusiastically when he sees something to be gained for himself.

Law 14 - Pose As A Friend, Work As A Spy

Knowing about your rival is critical. Use spies to gather valuable information that will keep you a step ahead. Better still: Play the spy yourself. In polite social encounters, learn to probe. Ask indirect questions to get people to reveal their weaknesses and intentions. There is no occasion that is not an opportunity for artful spying.

Law 15 - Crush Your Enemy Totally

All great leaders since Moses have known that a feared enemy must be crushed completely. (Sometimes they have learned this the hard way.) If one ember is left alight, no matter how dimly it smolders, a fire will eventually break out. More is lost through stopping halfway than through total annihilation: The enemy will recover, and will seek revenge. Crush him, not only in body but in spirit.

Law 16 - Use Absence To Increase Respect And Honor

Too much circulation makes the price go down: The more you are seen and heard from, the more common you appear. If you are already established in a group, temporary withdrawal from it will make you more talked about, even more admired. You must learn when to leave. Create value through scarcity.

Law 17 - Keep Others in Suspended Terror: Cultivate An Air Of Unpredictability

Humans are creatures of habit with an insatiable need to see familiarity in other people’s actions. Your predictability gives them a sense of control. Turn the tables: Be deliberately unpredictable. Behavior that seems to have no consistency or purpose will keep them off-balance, and they will wear themselves out trying to explain your moves. Taken to an extreme, this strategy can intimidate and terrorize.

Law 18 - Do Not Build Fortresses To Protect Yourself – Isolation Is Dangerous

The world is dangerous and enemies are everywhere – everyone has to protect themselves. A fortress seems the safest. But isolation exposes you to more dangers than it protects you from – it cuts you off from valuable information, it makes you conspicuous and an easy target. Better to circulate among people find allies, mingle. You are shielded from your enemies by the crowd.

Law 19 - Know Who You’re Dealing With – Do Not Offend The Wrong Person

There are many different kinds of people in the world, and you can never assume that everyone will react to your strategies in the same way. Deceive or outmaneuver some people and they will spend the rest of their lives seeking revenge. They are wolves in lambs’ clothing. Choose your victims and opponents carefully, then – never offend or deceive the wrong person.

Law 20 - Do Not Commit To Anyone 

It is the fool who always rushes to take sides. Do not commit to any side or cause but yourself. By maintaining your independence, you become the master of others – playing people against one another, making them pursue you.

Law 21 - Play a Sucker To Catch A Sucker – Seem Dumber Than Your Mark

No one likes feeling stupider than the next persons. The trick, is to make your victims feel smart – and not just smart, but smarter than you are. Once convinced of this, they will never suspect that you may have ulterior motives.

Law 22 - Use The Surrender Tactic: Transform Weakness Into Power

When you are weaker, never fight for honor’s sake; choose surrender instead. Surrender gives you time to recover, time to torment and irritate your conqueror, time to wait for his power to wane. Do not give him the satisfaction of fighting and defeating you – surrender first. By turning the other check you infuriate and unsettle him. Make surrender a tool of power.

Law 23 - Concentrate Your Forces 

Conserve your forces and energies by keeping them concentrated at their strongest point. You gain more by finding a rich mine and mining it deeper, than by flitting from one shallow mine to another – intensity defeats extensity every time. When looking for sources of power to elevate you, find the one key patron, the fat cow who will give you milk for a long time to come.

Law 24 - Play The Perfect Courtier

The perfect courtier thrives in a world where everything revolves around power and political dexterity. He has mastered the art of indirection; he flatters, yields to superiors, and asserts power over others in the mot oblique and graceful manner. Learn and apply the laws of courtiership and there will be no limit to how far you can rise in the court.

Law 25 - Recreate Yourself 

Do not accept the roles that society foists on you. Re-create yourself by forging a new identity, one that commands attention and never bores the audience. Be the master of your own image rather than letting others define if for you. Incorporate dramatic devices into your public gestures and actions – your power will be enhanced and your character will seem larger than life.

Law 26 - Keep Your Hands Clean

You must seem a paragon of civility and efficiency: Your hands are never soiled by mistakes and nasty deeds. Maintain such a spotless appearance by using others as scapegoats and cat’s-paws to disguise your involvement.

Law 27 - Play On People’s Need To Believe To Create A Cult-Like Following

People have an overwhelming desire to believe in something. Become the focal point of such desire by offering them a cause, a new faith to follow. Keep your words vague but full of promise; emphasize enthusiasm over rationality and clear thinking. Give your new disciples rituals to perform, ask them to make sacrifices on your behalf. In the absence of organized religion and grand causes, your new belief system will bring you untold power.

Law 28 - Enter Action with Boldness

If you are unsure of a course of action, do not attempt it. Your doubts and hesitations will infect your execution. Timidity is dangerous: Better to enter with boldness. Any mistakes you commit through audacity are easily corrected with more audacity. Everyone admires the bold; no one honors the timid.

Law 29 - Plan All The Way To The End

The ending is everything. Plan all the way to it, taking into account all the possible consequences, obstacles, and twists of fortune that might reverse your hard work and give the glory to others. By planning to the end you will not be overwhelmed by circumstances and you will know when to stop. Gently guide fortune and help determine the future by thinking far ahead.

Law 30 -  Make Your Accomplishments Seem Effortless

Your actions must seem natural and executed with ease. All the toil and practice that go into them, and also all the clever tricks, must be concealed. When you act, act effortlessly, as if you could do much more. Avoid the temptation of revealing how hard you work – it only raises questions. Teach no one your tricks or they will be used against you.

Law 31 - Control The Options: Get Others To Play With The Cards You Deal

The best deceptions are the ones that seem to give the other person a choice: Your victims feel they are in control, but are actually your puppets. Give people options that come out in your favor whichever one they choose. Force them to make choices between the lesser of two evils, both of which serve your purpose. Put them on the horns of a dilemma: They are gored wherever they turn.

Law 32 - Play To People’s Fantasies

The truth is often avoided because it is ugly and unpleasant. Never appeal to truth and reality unless you are prepared for the anger that comes for disenchantment. Life is so harsh and distressing that people who can manufacture romance or conjure up fantasy are like oases in the desert: Everyone flocks to them. There is great power in tapping into the fantasies of the masses.

Law 33 - Discover Each Man’s Thumbscrew

Everyone has a weakness, a gap in the castle wall. That weakness is usually an insecurity, an uncontrollable emotion or need; it can also be a small secret pleasure. Either way, once found, it is a thumbscrew you can turn to your advantage.

Law 34 - Be Royal In Your Own Fashion: Act Like A King To Be Treated Like One

The way you carry yourself will often determine how you are treated; In the long run, appearing vulgar or common will make people disrespect you. For a king respects himself and inspires the same sentiment in others. By acting regally and confident of your powers, you make yourself seem destined to wear a crown.

Law 35 - Master the Art of Timing

Never seem to be in a hurry – hurrying betrays a lack of control over yourself, and over time. Always seem patient, as if you know that everything will come to you eventually. Become a detective of the right moment; sniff out the spirit of the times, the trends that will carry you to power. Learn to stand back when the time is not yet ripe, and to strike fiercely when it has reached fruition.

Law 36 - Disdain Things You Cannot Have: Ignoring Them Is The Best Revenge

By acknowledging a petty problem you give it existence and credibility. The more attention you pay an enemy, the stronger you make him; and a small mistake is often made worse and more visible when you try to fix it. It is sometimes best to leave things alone. If there is something you want but cannot have, show contempt for it. The less interest you reveal, the more superior you seem.

Law 37 - Create Compelling Spectacles

Striking imagery and grand symbolic gestures create the aura of power – everyone responds to them. Stage spectacles for those around you, then full of arresting visuals and radiant symbols that heighten your presence. Dazzled by appearances, no one will notice what you are really doing.

Law 38 - Think As You Like But Behave Like Others

If you make a show of going against the times, flaunting your unconventional ideas and unorthodox ways, people will think that you only want attention and that you look down upon them. They will find a way to punish you for making them feel inferior. It is far safer to blend in and nurture the common touch. Share your originality only with tolerant friends and those who are sure to appreciate your uniqueness.

Law 39 - Stir Up Waters To Catch Fish

Anger and emotion are strategically counterproductive. You must always stay calm and objective. But if you can make your enemies angry while staying calm yourself, you gain a decided advantage. Put your enemies off-balance: Find the chink in their vanity through which you can rattle them and you hold the strings.

Law 40 - Despise The Free Lunch

What is offered for free is dangerous – it usually involves either a trick or a hidden obligation. What has worth is worth paying for. By paying your own way you stay clear of gratitude, guilt, and deceit. It is also often wise to pay the full price – there is no cutting corners with excellence. Be lavish with your money and keep it circulating, for generosity is a sign and a magnet for power.

Law 41 - Avoid Stepping Into A Great Man’s Shoes

What happens first always appears better and more original than what comes after. If you succeed a great man or have a famous parent, you will have to accomplish double their achievements to outshine them. Do not get lost in their shadow, or stuck in a past not of your own making: Establish your own name and identity by changing course. Slay the overbearing father, disparage his legacy, and gain power by shining in your own way.

Law 42 - Strike The Shepherd And The Sheep Will Scatter

Trouble can often be traced to a single strong individual – the stirrer, the arrogant underling, the poisoned of goodwill. If you allow such people room to operate, others will succumb to their influence. Do not wait for the troubles they cause to multiply, do not try to negotiate with them – they are irredeemable. Neutralize their influence by isolating or banishing them. Strike at the source of the trouble and the sheep will scatter.

Law 43 - Work On The Hearts And Minds Of Others

Coercion creates a reaction that will eventually work against you. You must seduce others into wanting to move in your direction. A person you have seduced becomes your loyal pawn. And the way to seduce others is to operate on their individual psychologies and weaknesses. Soften up the resistant by working on their emotions, playing on what they hold dear and what they fear. Ignore the hearts and minds of others and they will grow to hate you.

Law 44 - Disarm And Infuriate With The Mirror Effect

The mirror reflects reality, but it is also the perfect tool for deception: When you mirror your enemies, doing exactly as they do, they cannot figure out your strategy. The Mirror Effect mocks and humiliates them, making them overreact. By holding up a mirror to their psyches, you seduce them with the illusion that you share their values; by holding up a mirror to their actions, you teach them a lesson. Few can resist the power of Mirror Effect.

Law 45 - Preach The Need For Change, But Never Reform Too Much At Once

Everyone understands the need for change in the abstract, but on the day-to-day level people are creatures of habit. Too much innovation is traumatic, and will lead to revolt. If you are new to a position of power, or an outsider trying to build a power base, make a show of respecting the old way of doing things. If change is necessary, make it feel like a gentle improvement on the past.

Law 46 - Never Appear Too Perfect

Appearing better than others is always dangerous, but most dangerous of all is to appear to have no faults or weaknesses. Envy creates silent enemies. It is smart to occasionally display defects, and admit to harmless vices, in order to deflect envy and appear more human and approachable. Only gods and the dead can seem perfect with impunity.

Law 47 - Do Not Go Past The Mark You Aimed For; In Victory, Learn When To Stop

The moment of victory is often the moment of greatest peril. In the heat of victory, arrogance and overconfidence can push you past the goal you had aimed for, and by going too far, you make more enemies than you defeat. Do not allow success to go to your head. There is no substitute for strategy and careful planning. Set a goal, and when you reach it, stop.

Law 48 - Assume Formlessness

By taking a shape, by having a visible plan, you open yourself to attack. Instead of taking a form for your enemy to grasp, keep yourself adaptable and on the move. Accept the fact that nothing is certain and no law is fixed. The best way to protect yourself is to be as fluid and formless as water; never bet on stability or lasting order. Everything changes.

[theconservativebrief]

Hundreds of Liberians marched through the streets of the capital city Monrovia late last week, clad in black and waving placards that read “No excuse for rape,” “Fix the system,” and “Shame on you Katie Meyler.”

The name on that last sign was the focus of the crowd’s anger. Katie Meyler is a young American woman who, until recently, ran a charity in Liberia called More Than Me, a nonprofit that took in and educated poor Liberian girls at high risk of sexual exploitation.

For years, Meyler was celebrated in the media and philanthropy world for More Than Me’s work. She raised more than $8 million, including almost $600,000 from the US government, and opened 19 schools responsible for more than 4,000 students. But a ProPublica investigation published October 11 found that amid that success, the girls her charity was supposed to be protecting were being raped by the man who helped found it.

That man, Macintosh Johnson, had AIDS when he died in 2014. One of the girls who ended up testifying against him in court tested positive for HIV.

In a statement following the ProPublica report, More Than Me said: “We are deeply, profoundly sorry. To all the girls who were raped by Macintosh Johnson in 2014 and before: we failed you. We gave Johnson power that he exploited to abuse children.”

MTM’s Liberian advisory board recommended an independent investigation, and in a letter to the board, Meyler wrote that stepping “aside while the investigation is underway will further the goal of a thorough and impartial review.” She added that she was “confident that the results from this investigation will outline the best way forward for More Than Me.”

Looking back, Meyler’s trajectory is staggering. She went from being a 26-year-old intern at an evangelical charity during her first trip to Liberia in 2006 to receiving $1 million in 2012 to start her own school from the American Giving Awards, sponsored by JPMorgan Chase. By 2014, the Ebola outbreak would hit Liberia and Meyler would be named one of Time magazine’s People of the Year for her role in the response.

It’s shocking now that no one seemed to question, at least publicly, whether a young American woman with no experience in education or health was qualified to be running a school and a medical center serving thousands of Liberians. But if you’ve spent time in Africa in proximity to the Western charity machine Meyler was a product of, then it’s not shocking at all.

I was a young, white American woman living in Kenya during her rise to fame, and I was often asked, both in the US and in Kenya, whether I was going to start my own NGO, despite the fact that I was a journalist with little experience or interest in the nonprofit world. Such questions evinced a presumption of my innate moral fiber — not to mention a complacency in the belief that any white Westerner was capable of starting an NGO, regardless of qualification or mission.

I have no doubt that at 26 years old, I could have gotten funding to start my own NGO, even though I had no experience in nonprofits. I knew many other young Americans who got funded. If people tell you enough times that you’re qualified to do something, sometimes you start to believe them.

In a 2012 Atlantic piece, Teju Cole called the phenomenon the “White Savior Industrial Complex.” It is “a liberated space in which the usual rules do not apply: a nobody from America or Europe can go to Africa and become a godlike savior or, at the very least, have his or her emotional needs satisfied.”

We should be upset by Meyler’s story. But we should be more upset with what her story is emblematic of: a Western charity machine, propped up by an eager media, that valorizes inexperienced American do-gooders and that values heartwarming stories over impact.

In a tale that would become central to Meyler’s narrative, spun dozens of times in speeches across the US, Meyler herself questioned whether she was qualified to start her own NGO. But a friend told her, “Get over yourself! It’s not about you!” and that tough-love pep talk quashed her doubt.

Meyler would have done well to heed her own alarm bells. In retrospect, the cracks in Myler’s organization were glaring. If she had tried to do the same thing in the US, it never would have gotten off the ground.

Myler had no experience in education or management herself, and the board she recruited only compounded the incompetence. According to ProPublica, it included an Italian prince who sold cosmetics on the Home Shopping Network; his wife, who was a friend of Meyler’s and ran a perfume company; a Liberian American who had a fair-trade clothing business; and an American whose startup organized entrepreneurship trips to Africa for young Americans. The Liberian American was the only one who lived in Liberia even part time. None of them had experience running a school or working with vulnerable children.

The school was staffed mostly by American teaching fellows and, barring one position, no teaching experience was required when it started hiring. The first principal was a 31-year-old high school English teacher with no administrative experience. These low standards, particularly for staffers, might sound surprising, but in my experience they’re not actually uncommon for charities started by foreigners in Africa.

Warning signs cropped up quickly: The charity’s country director wrote a memo in the early months documenting her concerns about girls being taken from their homes without guardian consent and spending the night at staff houses, including Meyler’s and Johnson’s. Money was going missing.

Then there was Meyler’s foray into Ebola relief. When West Africa was hit by a widespread outbreak of Ebola in 2014, Meyler started organizing Ebola-relief efforts in Liberia: complex work that requires high levels of expertise and is better left to the professionals.

According to the ProPublica investigation, MTM never received approval to have an Ebola care facility. In the early days of the outbreak the school itself didn’t even have accreditation from the Ministry of Education. One Ministry of Health official said at the time that Meyler appeared to have a “pattern of disregard for laws.” But that didn’t stop the media from hailing her do-gooding efforts.

Taken together, the levels of negligence at More Than Me are shocking. But Meyler’s story is emblematic of a larger rot within a sector of American philanthropy: the fetishization of young and inexperienced do-gooders setting out to change developing countries, regardless of whether they are qualified to do so.

For evidence of the trend, you don’t need to look farther than some recent scandals that rocked international philanthropy.

Greg Mortenson was a mountain climber who, after failing to summit K2, the world’s second highest mountain, promised a Pakistani villager he met on his descent that he’d return to build a school for girls. He went on to found the Central Asia Institute, which by 2010 reported that it had built more than 171 schools that provided education to more than 64,000 children, including 54,000 girls.

He fundraised by speaking to audiences at churches, schools, and philanthropic dinners across the United States, much in the same way that Meyler did, and chronicled his story in the best-selling book Three Cups of Tea. He was also written up in glowing terms by publications like the New York Times and NPR, and given millions of dollars to continue his work.

His was an incredible story — and a lot of it was a lie. Multiple investigations revealed not only that Mortenson lied about his origin story but that he had allegedly misspent millions of the organization’s dollars.

An even more notorious recent example was the Invisible Children NGO, which came to public view through its viral campaign in 2012 to “Stop Kony.” The organization was founded in 2004 by a group of young American filmmakers who wanted to stop Joseph Kony’s brutal Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA) in Northern Uganda.

The video was viewed more than 100 million times in one week, becoming at the time the most viral video ever. It helped the organization raise more than $30 million and had a profound impact on US foreign policy in the region. One of the founders claimed the organization had lowered the number of internally displaced people (IDP) in Uganda by 98 percent.

But the film dangerously oversimplified events in the region, including the fact that Kony probably wasn’t even in Uganda at the time. And the organization’s impact is questionable (it certainly wasn’t responsible for slashing the number of IDPs to that degree). Donors accused the organization of misleading them by spending money on advocacy rather than actually helping LRA victims as their video claimed. Invisible Children denied this. According to the CEO, they spent all of the money raised by the video in 18-24 months.

These are just a couple of the more prominent examples. Meyler and More Than Me now take their place alongside them.

The fallout over the ProPublica investigation continues to roil Liberia. The government has launched an investigation into the charity and the Minister of Gender, Children and Social Protection Williametta Saydee Tarr said the government would be requesting Meyler’s cell phone records.

Meyler has temporarily resigned as CEO and the board chair has also resigned.

While Liberians work to unravel how More Than Me went so wrong, the rest of us would do well to examine the larger system that Meyler was a product of. In a 2010 article, New York Times columnist Nicholas Kristof dubbed the trend the “DIY Foreign-Aid Revolution.” He wrote that “it’s not only presidents and United Nations officials who chip away at global challenges. Passionate individuals with great ideas can do the same, especially in the age of the Internet and social media.”

But where some see a parade of goodness making the world a better place, others perceive more problematic scenarios. Journalist Courtney Martin refers to “the reductive seduction of other people’s problems,” in an essay in which she points out that it would be absurd for a Ugandan college student who saw a mass shooting in the US to decide to go to the United States to get gun legislation passed. Meyler being tasked with fixing girls’ education in Liberia was no less absurd.

Robtel Neajai Pailey, a Liberian academic, is more blunt: Meyler “reveals our warped tendencies to glorify foreigners for swooping into poor countries under the guise of doing good.”

For all the problems that she brought, Meyler (and the dozens of others like her) isn’t malicious. She and many others like her are driven by a genuine desire to help. But altruism that isn’t fortified by rigor or metrics can lead to disastrous results.

It’s the same impulse behind voluntourism, the widespread practice of Westerners traveling to developing countries to see the world and do some good by volunteering in orphanages or building schools while on vacation. (The practice is actually where Meyler got her start, when she fundraised in high school to send herself to Central America to volunteer with street children.)

Jacob Kushner, writing in The New York Times Magazine about the practice, argues: “Unsatisfying as it may be, we ought to acknowledge the truth that we, as amateurs, often don’t have much to offer. Perhaps we ought to abandon the assumption that we, simply by being privileged enough to travel the world, are somehow qualified to help ease the world’s ills.”

Those are wise words, but they can be hard to heed when the White Savior Industrial Complex is constantly churning out new avatars. There’s a slew of awards, fellowships, TED Talks, and funds directed at people like Meyler. Many American readers are eager for simplistic stories with a relatable hero (read: white and middle class) and media organizations are slow to fact check international stories — particularly of the feel-good variety. (Marc Gunther, in a piece published Monday, went through the major sources of the millions of dollars in funds that flowed More Than Me’s way.)

There’s a lot of anger directed at Katie Meyler right now, and rightfully so. But we’d do well to zoom out a bit. Katie Meyler created More Than Me, but the white savior industrial complex created her — and there’s a lot more of us complicit in that than we’d like to admit.

Sign up for the Future Perfect newsletter. Twice a week, you’ll get a roundup of ideas and solutions for tackling our biggest challenges: improving public health, decreasing human and animal suffering, easing catastrophic risks, and — to put it simply — getting better at doing good.

Original Source -> How the “white-savior industrial complex” failed Liberia’s girls

via The Conservative Brief

[strongestseed]

48 Laws of Power

Law 1 Never Outshine the Master

Always make those above you feel comfortably superior. In your desire to please or impress them, do not go too far in displaying your talents or you might accomplish the opposite – inspire fear and insecurity. Make your masters appear more brilliant than they are and you will attain the heights of power.

Law 2 Never put too Much Trust in Friends, Learn how to use Enemies

Be wary of friends-they will betray you more quickly, for they are easily aroused to envy. They also become spoiled and tyrannical. But hire a former enemy and he will be more loyal than a friend, because he has more to prove. In fact, you have more to fear from friends than from enemies. If you have no enemies, find a way to make them.

Law 3 Conceal your Intentions

Keep people off-balance and in the dark by never revealing the purpose behind your actions. If they have no clue what you are up to, they cannot prepare a defense. Guide them far enough down the wrong path, envelope them in enough smoke, and by the time they realize your intentions, it will be too late.

Law 4 Always Say Less than Necessary

When you are trying to impress people with words, the more you say, the more common you appear, and the less in control. Even if you are saying something banal, it will seem original if you make it vague, open-ended, and sphinxlike. Powerful people impress and intimidate by saying less. The more you say, the more likely you are to say something foolish.

Law 5 So Much Depends on Reputation – Guard it with your Life

Reputation is the cornerstone of power. Through reputation alone you can intimidate and win; once you slip, however, you are vulnerable, and will be attacked on all sides. Make your reputation unassailable. Always be alert to potential attacks and thwart them before they happen. Meanwhile, learn to destroy your enemies by opening holes in their own reputations. Then stand aside and let public opinion hang them.

Law 6 Court Attention at all Cost

Everything is judged by its appearance; what is unseen counts for nothing. Never let yourself get lost in the crowd, then, or buried in oblivion. Stand out. Be conspicuous, at all cost. Make yourself a magnet of attention by appearing larger, more colorful, more mysterious, than the bland and timid masses.

Law 7 Get others to do the Work for you, but Always Take the Credit

Use the wisdom, knowledge, and legwork of other people to further your own cause. Not only will such assistance save you valuable time and energy, it will give you a godlike aura of efficiency and speed. In the end your helpers will be forgotten and you will be remembered. Never do yourself what others can do for you.

Law 8 Make other People come to you – use Bait if Necessary

When you force the other person to act, you are the one in control. It is always better to make your opponent come to you, abandoning his own plans in the process. Lure him with fabulous gains – then attack. You hold the cards.

Law 9 Win through your Actions, Never through Argument

Any momentary triumph you think gained through argument is really a Pyrrhic victory: The resentment and ill will you stir up is stronger and lasts longer than any momentary change of opinion. It is much more powerful to get others to agree with you through your actions, without saying a word. Demonstrate, do not explicate.

Law 10 Infection: Avoid the Unhappy and Unlucky

You can die from someone else’s misery – emotional states are as infectious as disease. You may feel you are helping the drowning man but you are only precipitating your own disaster. The unfortunate sometimes draw misfortune on themselves; they will also draw it on you. Associate with the happy and fortunate instead.

Law 11 Learn to Keep People Dependent on You

To maintain your independence you must always be needed and wanted. The more you are relied on, the more freedom you have. Make people depend on you for their happiness and prosperity and you have nothing to fear. Never teach them enough so that they can do without you.

Law 12 Use Selective Honesty and Generosity to Disarm your Victim

One sincere and honest move will cover over dozens of dishonest ones. Open-hearted gestures of honesty and generosity bring down the guard of even the most suspicious people. Once your selective honesty opens a hole in their armor, you can deceive and manipulate them at will. A timely gift – a Trojan horse – will serve the same purpose.

Law 13 When Asking for Help, Appeal to People’s Self-Interest,

Never to their Mercy or Gratitude If you need to turn to an ally for help, do not bother to remind him of your past assistance and good deeds. He will find a way to ignore you. Instead, uncover something in your request, or in your alliance with him, that will benefit him, and emphasize it out of all proportion. He will respond enthusiastically when he sees something to be gained for himself.

Law 14 Pose as a Friend, Work as a Spy

Knowing about your rival is critical. Use spies to gather valuable information that will keep you a step ahead. Better still: Play the spy yourself. In polite social encounters, learn to probe. Ask indirect questions to get people to reveal their weaknesses and intentions. There is no occasion that is not an opportunity for artful spying.

Law 15 Crush your Enemy Totally

All great leaders since Moses have known that a feared enemy must be crushed completely. (Sometimes they have learned this the hard way.) If one ember is left alight, no matter how dimly it smolders, a fire will eventually break out. More is lost through stopping halfway than through total annihilation: The enemy will recover, and will seek revenge. Crush him, not only in body but in spirit.

Law 16 Use Absence to Increase Respect and Honor

Too much circulation makes the price go down: The more you are seen and heard from, the more common you appear. If you are already established in a group, temporary withdrawal from it will make you more talked about, even more admired. You must learn when to leave. Create value through scarcity.

Law 17 Keep Others in Suspended Terror: Cultivate an Air of Unpredictability

Humans are creatures of habit with an insatiable need to see familiarity in other people’s actions. Your predictability gives them a sense of control. Turn the tables: Be deliberately unpredictable. Behavior that seems to have no consistency or purpose will keep them off-balance, and they will wear themselves out trying to explain your moves. Taken to an extreme, this strategy can intimidate and terrorize.

Law 18 Do Not Build Fortresses to Protect Yourself – Isolation is Dangerous

The world is dangerous and enemies are everywhere – everyone has to protect themselves. A fortress seems the safest. But isolation exposes you to more dangers than it protects you from – it cuts you off from valuable information, it makes you conspicuous and an easy target. Better to circulate among people find allies, mingle. You are shielded from your enemies by the crowd.

Law 19 Know Who You’re Dealing with – Do Not Offend the Wrong Person

There are many different kinds of people in the world, and you can never assume that everyone will react to your strategies in the same way. Deceive or outmaneuver some people and they will spend the rest of their lives seeking revenge. They are wolves in lambs’ clothing. Choose your victims and opponents carefully, then – never offend or deceive the wrong person.

Law 20 Do Not Commit to Anyone

It is the fool who always rushes to take sides. Do not commit to any side or cause but yourself. By maintaining your independence, you become the master of others – playing people against one another, making them pursue you.

Law 21 Play a Sucker to Catch a Sucker – Seem Dumber than your Mark

No one likes feeling stupider than the next persons. The trick, is to make your victims feel smart – and not just smart, but smarter than you are. Once convinced of this, they will never suspect that you may have ulterior motives.

Law 22 Use the Surrender Tactic: Transform Weakness into Power

When you are weaker, never fight for honor’s sake; choose surrender instead. Surrender gives you time to recover, time to torment and irritate your conqueror, time to wait for his power to wane. Do not give him the satisfaction of fighting and defeating you – surrender first. By turning the other check you infuriate and unsettle him. Make surrender a tool of power.

Law 23 Concentrate Your Forces

Conserve your forces and energies by keeping them concentrated at their strongest point. You gain more by finding a rich mine and mining it deeper, than by flitting from one shallow mine to another – intensity defeats extensity every time. When looking for sources of power to elevate you, find the one key patron, the fat cow who will give you milk for a long time to come.

Law 24 Play the Perfect Courtier

The perfect courtier thrives in a world where everything revolves around power and political dexterity. He has mastered the art of indirection; he flatters, yields to superiors, and asserts power over others in the mot oblique and graceful manner. Learn and apply the laws of courtier ship and there will be no limit to how far you can rise in the court.

Law 25 Re-Create Yourself

Do not accept the roles that society foists on you. Re-create yourself by forging a new identity, one that commands attention and never bores the audience. Be the master of your own image rather than letting others define if for you. Incorporate dramatic devices into your public gestures and actions – your power will be enhanced and your character will seem larger than life.

Law 26 Keep Your Hands Clean

You must seem a paragon of civility and efficiency: Your hands are never soiled by mistakes and nasty deeds. Maintain such a spotless appearance by using others as scapegoats and cat’s-paws to disguise your involvement.

Law 27 Play on People’s Need to Believe to Create a Cultlike Following

People have an overwhelming desire to believe in something. Become the focal point of such desire by offering them a cause, a new faith to follow. Keep your words vague but full of promise; emphasize enthusiasm over rationality and clear thinking. Give your new disciples rituals to perform, ask them to make sacrifices on your behalf. In the absence of organized religion and grand causes, your new belief system will bring you untold power.

Law 28 Enter Action with Boldness

If you are unsure of a course of action, do not attempt it. Your doubts and hesitations will infect your execution. Timidity is dangerous: Better to enter with boldness. Any mistakes you commit through audacity are easily corrected with more audacity. Everyone admires the bold; no one honors the timid.

Law 29 Plan All the Way to the End

The ending is everything. Plan all the way to it, taking into account all the possible consequences, obstacles, and twists of fortune that might reverse your hard work and give the glory to others. By planning to the end you will not be overwhelmed by circumstances and you will know when to stop. Gently guide fortune and help determine the future by thinking far ahead.

Law 30 Make your Accomplishments Seem Effortless

Your actions must seem natural and executed with ease. All the toil and practice that go into them, and also all the clever tricks, must be concealed. When you act, act effortlessly, as if you could do much more. Avoid the temptation of revealing how hard you work – it only raises questions. Teach no one your tricks or they will be used against you.

Law 31 Control the Options: Get Others to Play with the Cards you Deal

The best deceptions are the ones that seem to give the other person a choice: Your victims feel they are in control, but are actually your puppets. Give people options that come out in your favor whichever one they choose. Force them to make choices between the lesser of two evils, both of which serve your purpose. Put them on the horns of a dilemma: They are gored wherever they turn.

Law 32 Play to People’s Fantasies

The truth is often avoided because it is ugly and unpleasant. Never appeal to truth and reality unless you are prepared for the anger that comes for disenchantment. Life is so harsh and distressing that people who can manufacture romance or conjure up fantasy are like oases in the desert: Everyone flocks to them. There is great power in tapping into the fantasies of the masses.

Law 33 Discover Each Man’s Thumbscrew

Everyone has a weakness, a gap in the castle wall. That weakness is usual y an insecurity, an uncontrollable emotion or need; it can also be a small secret pleasure. Either way, once found, it is a thumbscrew you can turn to your advantage.

Law 34 Be Royal in your Own Fashion: Act like a King to be treated like one

The way you carry yourself will often determine how you are treated; In the long run, appearing vulgar or common will make people disrespect you. For a king respects himself and inspires the same sentiment in others. By acting regally and confident of your powers, you make yourself seem destined to wear a crown.

Law 35 Master the Art of Timing

Never seem to be in a hurry – hurrying betrays a lack of control over yourself, and over time. Always seem patient, as if you know that everything will come to you eventually. Become a detective of the right moment; sniff out the spirit of the times, the trends that will carry you to power. Learn to stand back when the time is not yet ripe, and to strike fiercely when it has reached fruition.

Law 36 Disdain Things you cannot have: Ignoring them is the best Revenge

By acknowledging a petty problem you give it existence and credibility. The more attention you pay an enemy, the stronger you make him; and a small mistake is often made worse and more visible when you try to fix it. It is sometimes best to leave things alone. If there is something you want but cannot have, show contempt for it. The less interest you reveal, the more superior you seem.

Law 37 Create Compelling Spectacles

Striking imagery and grand symbolic gestures create the aura of power – everyone responds to them. Stage spectacles for those around you, then full of arresting visuals and radiant symbols that heighten your presence. Dazzled by appearances, no one will notice what you are really doing.

Law 38 Think as you like but Behave like others

If you make a show of going against the times, flaunting your unconventional ideas and unorthodox ways, people will think that you only want attention and that you look down upon them. They will find a way to punish you for making them feel inferior. It is far safer to blend in and nurture the common touch. Share your originality only with tolerant friends and those who are sure to appreciate your uniqueness.

Law 39 Stir up Waters to Catch Fish

Anger and emotion are strategically counterproductive. You must always stay calm and objective. But if you can make your enemies angry while staying calm yourself, you gain a decided advantage. Put your enemies off-balance: Find the chink in their vanity through which you can rattle them and you hold the strings.

Law 40 Despise the Free Lunch

What is offered for free is dangerous – it usually involves either a trick or a hidden obligation. What has worth is worth paying for. By paying your own way you stay clear of gratitude, guilt, and deceit. It is also often wise to pay the full price – there is no cutting corners with excellence. Be lavish with your money and keep it circulating, for generosity is a sign and a magnet for power.

Law 41 Avoid Stepping into a Great Man’s Shoes

What happens first always appears better and more original than what comes after. If you succeed a great man or have a famous parent, you will have to accomplish double their achievements to outshine them. Do not get lost in their shadow, or stuck in a past not of your own making: Establish your own name and identity by changing course. Slay the overbearing father, disparage his legacy, and gain power by shining in your own way.

Law 42 Strike the Shepherd and the Sheep will Scatter

Trouble can often be traced to a single strong individual – the stirrer, the arrogant underling, the poisoned of goodwill. If you allow such people room to operate, others will succumb to their influence. Do not wait for the troubles they cause to multiply, do not try to negotiate with them – they are irredeemable. Neutralize their influence by isolating or banishing them. Strike at the source of the trouble and the sheep will scatter.

Law 43 Work on the Hearts and Minds of Others

Coercion creates a reaction that will eventually work against you. You must seduce others into wanting to move in your direction. A person you have seduced becomes your loyal pawn. And the way to seduce others is to operate on their individual psychologies and weaknesses. Soften up the resistant by working on their emotions, playing on what they hold dear and what they fear. Ignore the hearts and minds of others and they will grow to hate you.

Law 44 Disarm and Infuriate with the Mirror Effect

The mirror reflects reality, but it is also the perfect tool for deception: When you mirror your enemies, doing exactly as they do, they cannot figure out your strategy. The Mirror Effect mocks and humiliates them, making them overreact. By holding up a mirror to their psyches, you seduce them with the illusion that you share their values; by holding up a mirror to their actions, you teach them a lesson. Few can resist the power of Mirror Effect.

Law 45 Preach the Need for Change, but Never Reform too much at Once

Everyone understands the need for change in the abstract, but on the day-to-day level people are creatures of habit. Too much innovation is traumatic, and will lead to revolt. If you are new to a position of power, or an outsider trying to build a power base, make a show of respecting the old way of doing things. If change is necessary, make it feel like a gentle improvement on the past.

Law 46 Never appear too Perfect

Appearing better than others is always dangerous, but most dangerous of all is to appear to have no faults or weaknesses. Envy creates silent enemies. It is smart to occasionally display defects, and admit to harmless vices, in order to deflect envy and appear more human and approachable. Only gods and the dead can seem perfect with impunity.

Law 47 Do not go Past the Mark you Aimed for; In Victory, Learn when to Stop

The moment of victory is often the moment of greatest peril. In the heat of victory, arrogance and overconfidence can push you past the goal you had aimed for, and by going too far, you make more enemies than you defeat. Do not allow success to go to your head. There is no substitute for strategy and careful planning. Set a goal, and when you reach it, stop.

Law 48 Assume Formlessness

By taking a shape, by having a visible plan, you open yourself to attack. Instead of taking a form for your enemy to grasp, keep yourself adaptable and on the move. Accept the fact that nothing is certain and no law is fixed. The best way to protect yourself is to be as fluid and formless as water; never bet on stability or lasting order. Everything changes.